First, let me just say that I am not a mountaineer, but I think that this is less due to a lack of will and more a result of my environment growing up. When you’re raised on the East Coast, there aren’t really a whole lot of mountains around to climb… Hills to hike maybe, but not true mountains. However, for years I have been fascinated by climbing. If there’s a book written about it, I’ve probably read it. If there’s been a movie, documentary, or TV show made, I’ve probably seen it. Even the completely unrealistic, cheesy fictional ones. I also enjoy pushing myself to see what I’m capable of. For example, I refused to take any seasickness medication before going out on my first big sailing trip because I wanted to see if I would actually need it. Turns out I didn’t. I did the same thing when I went to Peru to hike the Inca trail. I didn’t take anything to help with altitude sickness because I wanted to see how well my body would adjust on its own. Turned out it adjusted pretty well, although I did have some issues the one night when we stayed above 14,000 feet. I want to run a marathon this year for this reason. In the same way, the challenge of mountaineering is extremely attractive to me. Pair that with my adventurous spirit, throw in my love affair with mountains and the outdoors, an interest in climbing seems like a natural byproduct.

As many of you know, I was born in Bend, Oregon and I have come to believe that this somehow encoded a love of mountains into my DNA. I adore them (they’re not part of the illustration on my blog by accident!) and can’t underscore enough how much I look forward to living back among them again. But since my parents moved me to the Philly area when I was a mere 6-months-old, my affection for mountains lay dormant until the first time I saw some in person.

I was 20 and was headed to Seattle to attend the Christian Writer’s Conference at Seattle Pacific University. I had first flown to San Francisco and spent a few days with my family there before flying from San Jose up to SEA. I had a window seat and was looking out at the clouds when suddenly noticed a particularly large object jutting up through them. It look me awhile to realize I was staring at Mount Hood. I was so overwhelmed with its beauty that my eyes immediately welled-up with tears. Pictures and movies hadn’t even come close to preparing me for the actual majesty of an in-person mountain.

Alaska was where I became truly addicted to them, though. There is nothing like being up in a small plane and looking out to see nothing but miles upon miles upon miles of a rippled mountain landscape coated in snow. There is something so awe-inspiring and quieting about them that words alone fall short in conveying. In Alaska, you also have the added bonus of being literally surrounded… Some volcanic (like Augustine and Redoubt), but more just the ranges of them that run down to the sea. One of my favorite places to go when I needed to get away for a minute without going far was up to Flattop. Flattop, so named for its flat top, is a mountain just on the edge of Anchorage and part of the Chugach Range. It’s a great hiking mountain in the summer especially, but there’s also a fantastic vista point not far from the parking lot where you can see for miles…all the way up to Denali on a clear day. I used to love to drive up there on winter mornings when the whole of Anchorage was encased in an ice fog. On the drive up, the fog would be dense and heavy, but it would start to thin near the top until suddenly you emerged in the crisp, winter air and glorious sunlight. The city below would be completely cloaked and you could imagine yourself alone in the world. To echo some of Ben’s sentiments from his post, I have always experienced God in the mountains in a different way than I have elsewhere.

Biblically, this makes sense to me as well.  God seems to have a special place in His heart for mountains. I love how He always had His temples among his people, but when He chose to take up residence with the Israelites in the desert and speak to Moses, it was on a mountain. Jesus also had a thing for mountains. The gospels speak repeatedly of him going up into the mountains by himself to pray…sometimes he would stay there all night (Luke 6:12). He also did a lot of his speaking from mountainsides (but I suspect that probably had more to do with acoustics).

Shortly after arriving in Alaska, my friend who moved with me had decided she wanted to go home. Those first few months there after she left were some of the loneliest I’ve ever known as I tried to figure out what my new life would look like 5,000 miles from everything I knew “home” to be. But the great paradox I learned is that it’s in loneliness that I feel the least alone for it’s in loneliness when I am most reminded that I am not alone.  God is there.  As David writes in Psalm 139:7-9…

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,

Even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

It was also during this time that God used the mountains as perspective givers for me. If things weren’t going well, or if I was feeling overwhelmed with life, I would just drive out to where I could spend some time with the mountains and in prayer. It’s extremely humbling to stand on (or even next to) something so majestically huge with the knowledge that it was formed by our God through His power alone (Psalm 65:6). He is indeed an awesome God.

I wrote the following poem on 10/14/96 during my first few weeks in Alaska…not surprisingly, it begins and ends with mountains:

The mountains stretch out
Across purple skies
To the end of the world
Or so it seems.
But they do stretch far
Far
Far out of sight.
Beyond comprehension.
Beyond confusion.
Beyond dismissal.
Beyond betrayal.
Beyond lies.
Beyond fear.
Beyond feelings of hopelessness
And loss.
All my fragments
Of ragged dreams
Are swallowed up
In the magnificence
Of jagged rocks
Blanketed with snow.
The enormity
Of the mountains
Makes problems seem
Insignificant.
Small.
Trivial.
Resolvable.
So I sit
In stillness
And focus
On the mountains.

Partly what I love about not just mountains, but the wilderness in general is the peace that’s there. I feel like peace is often so hard to find today in our crazed tilt-a-whirl lives. In an attempt to obtain it, I will sometimes purposely leave my cell phone at home (gasp!). I love when I go on trips that cause me to abandon my connections to the world. I have found that when I extract myself from the craziness of life, turn off my cell phone, and just allow myself to be quiet, God is able to speak without competing distractions, and I find I am often more apt to hear Him. The wilderness gives me an excuse to do that.

John Muir once said:

To the lover of wilderness, Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world.

When I had gone back to AK for a visit in 2002, it was a particularly clear day and Denali was so stunning, I decided to go on a flight-seeing trip out of Talkeetna up to the mountain.  It was kind of last minute, and outside of the regular tourist schedule, but I found someone to take me and ended up with a bonus – the pilot was flying the first climber of the season out to Denali base camp and I got to ride along. On the way back, the pilot told me about someone he had dropped off on a glacier near Denali for several weeks over the winter. I had actually read an article about it so was even more interested when the pilot told me he had been their “taxi” to and from their adventure. To be left in the middle of the mountains in Alaska would probably be a nightmare for some, but it sounded like heaven to me.

There has been a lot of judgment flying around from the so-called “armchair experts” who are, in my opinion, awfully brash – throwing their dogmatic opinions at people and on topics about which they have little knowledge and no personal experience. While not a mountain climber myself (or at least not currently), I still can understand the drives and the desires that motivate them… I also know the joy that comes in doing something you love, even when discomfort – or even danger – are involved. I think I realized this the most acutely on the second day of the Inca Trail. It was the day I both looked forward to and dreaded with the same breath. Most guidebooks even referred to it as “grueling”. We were coming up to the highest point of the trek at 13,770 feet – Dead Woman’s Pass. We were tired, sore, hungry, wet, and cold. I remember stopping for a breather at one point and saying to one of the other members of my group that I was walking with that, even though I was as physically uncomfortable as I was, I was also incredibly happy. “At this moment,” I told her, “there is absolutely no other place in the world I would rather be.”

That’s a fantastic state to be in. One day, I hope to reside there permanently… For now though, part of my journey is learning to live in contentment with where God has me. But He also knows my heart…better than anyone else…and He understands the irresistable song the mountains sing to me and maybe one day He will place me among them again. Perhaps then I’ll start to climb them too.

Pictures are posted on Flickr which really speak for themselves, but here are a few highlights from the trip:

1. Dinner, laughs, and commandeering the jukebox at Diamond Knot with Amy & Jel.
2. Reliving the 80′s & 90′s music videos on YouTube.
3. Doing the MIB dance with Will for the first time in almost a decade.
4. Introducing Sean to “Dumb & Dumber”.
5. Dealing with the smell I most commonly associate with NYC in a Seattle’s Best Coffee shop in downtown Seattle.
6. N.E.I.E.C.
7. Dancing in the parking lot of the QFC to one of our old mix tapes until 50 cops showed up for some reason which made us nervous so we sped off.
8. Trying to find parking for the new PCC – have people never seen one before??
9. Cracking up in the grocery store…what were we laughing at anyway?
10. Getting to spend 10 whole days with my best friend.

Click here for the full set of photos.

So, in a fit of boredom and driven by my desire to be in keeping with blogging standards, I hereby present my list of 25 Things About Me.   Ahem.

1. Coffee is my favorite comfort food. I couldn’t imagine a world without it…nor would I want to.
2. I adore roller coasters – I laugh hysterically when riding them and I love to be in the front car.
3. I am completely addicted to travel – I have been to 15 countries on 4 continents.
4. They say you can’t buy love, but my dog has taught me otherwise.
5. My biggest pre-teen crush was a tie between Bill Bixby (from “The Incredible Hulk”) and Shaun Cassidy (from “The Hardy Boys”).
6. I once worked in a chocolate factory.
7. I love Jesus and believe in the power of prayer and the importance of community.
8. My favorite beer is Dogfish Head 90-Minute IPA.
9. I rang in the New Millenium in NYC.
10. I have lived in Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Alaska, New York City, and England.
11. My favorite TV shows through my life so far have been “Sesame Street”, “The A-Team”, “The Wonder Years”, “Seinfeld”, “Friends, “Frasier”, “Ally McBeal”, “90210″, “Gilmore Girls”, and “LOST”.
12. I have painted every wall in every room of my current home including closets & ceilings.
13. I volunteered with the Red Cross at Ground Zero (The World Trade Center) after the terrorist attack of 9/11 which was one of the most sobering and rewarding experiences of my life.
14. I was 20 years old the first time I visited the Pacific Northwest and have been in love with it ever since.
15. I will not eat raw tomatoes.
16. I have never seen any of “The Godfather” movies.
17. I wrote my first book (called “The Oddness of Andrew”) in 3rd grade. There was a boy in my class named Andrew who was not amused.
18. The first time I saw real mountains in person, I cried.
19. I have had roommates for the majority of my adult life – 14 in all.
20. I love Oreos.
21. I once wanted to be a marine biologist.
22. I collect Starbucks mugs…I have one from every city I’ve visited (assuming I could find a Starbucks).
23. Snow is my favorite form of precipitation – I am thrilled when there’s a blizzard.
24. The biggest earthquake I’ve ever been in was a 6.4
25. I have not had a landline phone since October 2001.

Somebody told me it was frightening how much topsoil we are losing each year, but I told that story around the campfire and nobody got scared. – Jack Handey

For those who were not fortunate enough to be with the New Life Presbyterian Church Youth Group camping trip to Cornerstone ’90, the title of this post will mean very little. However, for those who have at least been camping or have slept in a tent at some point in life, you will probably understand what a “bungee” is and why it might be necessary to grab it during a torrential downpour with gale-force winds beating your tent into the ground and then attempting to turn it into a kite.

This weekend I went camping with about 20 people from The Well. Thankfully it was not Monsoon season in French Creek State Park, so I do not have any tales like that of the Perfect Storm that hit our camp at Cornerstone, but there were still some wild times and laughs had I thought I’d share.

Friday I decided to take a half-day. Worked from home in the morning and then knocked off around 1:00 to pack and run errands which included taking Chena to the groomers for her first trim. Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures of her at the moment, but I really should take some now. She lost about 2 inches of fuzz all over making her look a lot thinner (which is a good thing because everyone seemed to think she was fat before). The catalyst for this visit being that I was afraid taking her camping with her previous coat would be too hot for her. I mean seriously, how would you like to go camping in the hot, humid August of the East Coast while wearing your woolliest winter ski coat? And then what if your woolliest winter ski coat was actually GROWING on you? Not sounding very fun, is it? And so I had Chena’s coat trimmed down a bit.

After getting Chena and making a stop at the store, I picked up Gary (we were carpooling) and we took off for the hills.

French Creek State Park is located about 60 miles away from where I live (heading out towards Reading), so it’s an easy drive and a really nice state park compared to Tyler. I’m not busting on Tyler, but it is pretty small as far as state parks go, and doesn’t have nearly the activities available that French Creek does…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

After most everyone else showed up on Friday, we set up and got everything situated for the weekend. More stragglers joined us periodically up until about 11 o’clock when Mark and Beth finally found us (as you might imagine, it gets increasing difficult to find one’s way in the woods after dark – even, or especially, when driving). Friday night consisted of dinner, campfire, s’mores, laughter, and finally sleep.

Saturday morning, Chena woke up growling because it seemed she had trouble telling the difference between other members of our group looking for breakfast and rabid animals looking for fresh meat. Being an early riser anyway, I didn’t mind so we got up and made a b-line for the coffee.

After breakfast, everyone sort of grouped together and went off to tackle different activities. I ended up with a handful of people who wanted to go down to one of the lakes and see about renting a boat. Located next to the biggest pool any of us had ever seen in their lives, the boat rental dock is right on the shore of Hopewell Lake which was beautiful (this included Mark & Beth who had brought their dog, Ollie – a perfect friend for Chena). Unfortunately we weren’t there more than 10 minutes when the threatening thunder we had been hearing in the distance all morning decided to blow our way and put on a rather impressive show. The storm didn’t last long, but after it had finished, we decided instead to head back up to the campsite after detouring to pick up more ice for the coolers.

Chena and I both ended up lazing for the rest of the afternoon with a few others who stayed at camp, finally rounding out the day with dinner, more s’mores (is it just me, or does that sound redundant?), and of course laughter. A little later Saturday night, Ryan and Michelle broke out a nifty camping tool which looks somewhat like the precursor to the Panini press. Two iron squares which fit together neatly hold buttered bread and filling of choice (cheese, meat, pie filling…but not all at once) held into the fire for a few minutes cooks up a tasty treat. There was a name for them, but I’m blanking on what it was…and no, it’s not “sandwich”.

I’m sorry to report that I don’t remember much of Sunday. The morning was fine and I remember that well. Chena growled, we got up, I decided to take a shower which ended up sparking a high-speed chase through the campground (Chena running up to the showers to find me, Mark running after her, Ollie running after him, Chena running back to the campsite, Ollie taking off in a different direction, Mark running after Ollie, leaving everyone back at camp wondering where Mark & Ollie were once Chena showed back up).

It was only after breakfast that I started noticing a headache coming on. Within a couple of hours, it had progressed into a full-blown migraine – the likes of which I haven’t had in a pretty great while. Somehow I managed to pack up my stuff, but was struggling with how I was going to manage the drive home when another couple from our group (Davis & Denise) offered to help. Denise drove my car with me and her husband followed. I don’t really remember the drive, just the pain. Once home, I collapsed on the sofa with a large ice pack covering my head and there I stayed until about 8pm when it finally began to subside. Ug. The best part is, I think I did it to myself. Sadly, one of my migraine triggers is chocolate and I’d had a lot of that this weekend. Not all in one sitting, but over the course of 24 hours, I’d had a lot more than I’m used to and I feel fairly confident that this is what did it. Way to go, Deb. I’m just thankful it didn’t hit we were getting ready to head out anyway, otherwise what a bummer that would have been.

All-in-all, it was a great few days with a lot of valuable takeaways:

• Chena is a fantastic camping dog
• Gary is an excellent human Poison Ivy detector
• French Creek = good PA camping
• Campfires are great no matter what time of year it is
• Those little iron things make great camping treats (despite the fact I can’t remember what they’re called)
• There are still new friends to be had in the Philly suburbs.

On that last point, I really was thrilled to have the opportunity to make some more friends (as well as get to know some of my newer friends better) – something I would have not thought I would have been doing a year ago. In fact, it was a year ago that Kim was coming down from NYC to help me avoid The Zoid. Wow. What a difference a year makes.

God is full of surprises.

The day started out innocently enough.  I got up at 6:30 and planned to head to PHL airport around 7:30 for a 9:54 flight to Atlanta.  Normally, the trip would only take me about an  hour, but due to rush hour traffic, it took closer to an hour and a half.  Even so, I got to the check-in counter for Delta in plenty of time.  The drama began when the counter agent asked to see my ID and I was horrified to discover I didn’t have it. 

I went through my wallet about a dozen times.  I tore my bag apart.  I checked every pocket.  Every nook.  Every cranny.  Every crevice.  Nothing.  Not my driver’s license, passport, or even utility bill with my name on it.  Nothing to prove that I was me.  I tried to remember when I’d had my license last, but couldn’t.  The thought then occurred to me that I might not have used it since I traveled last.  If that was the case, I suspected it might be in my travel purse that I use on vacations, or in my backpack – and, as irony would have it, here I was traveling and neither of these were with me.  Go figure.

Fighting back tears of frustration and angst, I called my parents to let them know that I was going to be forced to miss my flight.  Thankfully (and unlike the last time I flew – or rather DIDN’T fly – Delta), they were able to book me on a 4:40 flight instead, giving me enough time to drive home, get my license, and come back.

So I caught the courtesy shuttle back to my car in the Economy Lot, paid the flat $9 rate for 24-hours (even though I had barely been there an hour), and drove the 36 miles home.  I first checked my backpack and, while my roommate was looking through my otehr bag, I began looking for my travel purse when I suddenly remembered that - and here comes that damn irony again - it was in the trunk of my car.  I went back out to my car and got the purse.  My driver’s license was in the front pocket. 

Yes, that’s right.  My license was with me.  In the purse.  In the trunk.  The whole time.  The WHOLE time.

And so I got back in the car and drove the 36 miles back to the airport to try and get on an earlier flight than 4:40 since I had time, but unfortunately the earlier flight was now sold out. 

Now I’m killing time sitting in the Delta Crown Club Lounge (which, while better than sitting in the terminal, is not as comfortable as the Continental President’s Club Lounge).  Honestly, I’m just thankful they let me in since, in keeping with the theme of the day, I also couldn’t find my President’s Club membership card either.

This is not a unique story to my life.  I have made such faux pas in the past that some might say this pales in comparison, but still…  All-in-all, I think the cost of my own mistakes in this case is in the neighborhood of $75-100 when you consider parking, gas, ticket change fee, etc.

I know that I will look back on this and laugh.  I know it.  But right now I just want to be in that place where I’m looking back and laughing because right at this moment, can’t really say I’m feelin’ it.

I had my whole morning planned down to what I was going to read when I was finally seated on the flight for the first leg of my journey to Kalispell. Everything went smoothly…I left insanely early in case of traffic and was shocked when there was none. But then I got to the airport.

I’ve already posted a whole entry when I was on my way to North Dakota on how much I hate Philadelphia Int’l Airport so I’m going to repeat myself, but rather I will add to my reasons to stay away. PHL is easily overwhelmed. Between the storms we had in the area last night and the fact that this is the Friday before a week with a holiday…let’s just say that Philly was freaking out.

The chaos I viewed from the window of the Economy Parking Shuttle as we pulled up to the terminal was more than a little frightening. Getting off of the shuttle, I made my way through the masses of people attempting curbside check-in and found a Delta kiosk so I could get rid of my giant duffel bag and head up to security as quickly as possible. This is when I found out that I was too late to actually check my bag for my flight as, due to an error on my part where I read the time of my flight off of the wrong boarding pass (I had 3 I was juggling for today). Oops! So while I still had 45 minutes before my ACTUAL flight time, it was not enough time to get my bag or myself through security and onto the plane.

Okay, I thought, no sweat. I’ll just get myself rebooked on another flight. I have 24 hours before I actually HAVE to be in Kalispell so surely they’ll be able to get me there by then.

So I stood in line only to be told by the ticket agent that there were no seats on any flights that would get me anywhere near Kalispell. None. Nada. Zip. I was dumbfounded. Was she sure? How about another airline? Another airPORT, even. Could she check again? She did. Nothing. What about standby? No standby seats available either. Nope, if I wanted to go to Kalispell, it would have to be another day…like next week.

I laughed – I mean, what else COULD I do? Thanked her for her efforts, proceeded to make my way past the 300+ (no exaggeration) people waiting to go through security, back onto the Economy Parking Shuttle, and then to my car where I sat for 15 minutes calling to cancel everything I had arranged for the next few days. Sigh.

And there you have it! I got a call back from the Montana guide company I had booked with who said they would be happy to rebook me for another trip some other time, but sadly I would lose 25% of my payment due to the late “cancellation” which was fine because hey, that’s a heck of a lot better than losing it all!

I’ll be working these days that I should have been spending trekking around deep in the wilds of Montana. I’ll definitely be rebooking – for when, I have no idea. Possibly next summer, but we’ll see. For now, I have to just assume that my not going right now is somehow for the best.

The wilds will have to wait and so will I…just hopefully not for too long!

There is probably no more obnoxious class of citizen, taken end for end, than the returning vacationist.

I’m back at work today and thrown back into the atmosphere of reality (caution: objects may burn up upon reentry) which is why I’m taking a few minutes out to write now. I’ll finish up from home most likely which will give me a chance to add some photos as well.

So to recap quickly…

Since I last wrote which was sometime on Friday morning, we landed in Victoria on Vancouver Island, BC around 5pm or so. I was supposed to have a shore excursion to the gardens, but my day had just been absolutely non-stop since 8:30 that morning, I decided to skip out. Seen one flower… I mean, I’m sure it would have been pretty, but I just didn’t have the energy. So instead I waited until about 7:30pm and took a shuttle into town where I walked around the waterfront and just enjoyed the gorgeous day for a couple of hours.

Friday night was mostly spent trying to drink up the rest of the wine some of us had bought in various ports before finally heading off to bed.

Saturday morning was a bit of a blur… I got up exhausted since being out late and for some reason not having slept well. I managed to crawl out of bed around 7:15 and somehow gathered my bags and got off the ship. Janelle picked me up on the dock and we headed back to her house. Sean ran out for a haircut, but then we all went into town to walk around the Edmonds Art Festival and enjoy some food, and fresh lemonade. Good times.

Jel got me to the airport in plenty of time to make my flight (which was late thanks to Houston thunderstorms) and I pretty much passed out as soon as I got on the plane only to awake four and a half hours later in Newark. Always a downer when coming back in from the Pacific Northwest…or almost anywhere else, for that matter. When I’ve been away long enough, I forget how people here can be – especially in the areas surrounding NYC. For example, here I’ve been used to being on a ship with friendly vacationers and wandering around towns with friendly residents. Then I fly into Newark and make the mistake of smiling at a guy walking past who happened to look in my direction. What I got in return was…well…put it this way, if looks could kill… And so I am once again left wondering why I haven’t picked up and moved to Seattle, and once again there are no answers. Sigh.

Anyway, since my flight had been delayed, I missed the last train from EWR to Princeton where my car was parked so I examined my options: Stay overnight at the airport, or take a car service. Turned out the price was about the same either way, so I opted for the car service. This landed me home around 3am.

Sunday I went to pick up my Chena (for those of you who don’t know, her name is pronounced “Chee-na”) from my aunt & uncle’s house – and what a happy reunion that was! A lot of peeing and excitement ensued (just to clarify, Chena did the peeing…I was just excited). I think she had a blast while I was away, but she also seems to have crashed once I showed up. She barely left my side, couldn’t wait to get into the car when we finally went to leave, and even this morning she was doing a lot of yawning and lazing around as I got ready for work. I suspect she’ll be sleeping most of today.

I’m finding that I’m having an easier time getting back to regular life than I have after other trips. I suspect that this is due to the shorter length so I don’t think I ever got into full vacation mode as I did with, say, Thailand. As for the trip itself, and final thoughts: I definitely enjoyed myself – more so as the week wore on. I was pleasantly surprised, and of course some of the people I met certainly enriched my overall experience as well as making it more fun.

Despite my earlier reservations, I think I would do another cruise, but I would probably be a little more inclined to go with pre-existing friends I’m not having to start from scratch with relationship-wise. I could see where I might have had more fun sooner if Jo or Es or Jel had been with me. I would also make sure I didn’t do a longer trip – 10 days or more at least. The 7-day just ended up feeling like something of a tease.

So I realized that I’m actually heading out again in just under two weeks (which I think may also be helping with being home). I have a 4 day backpacking/camping trip in Glacier National Park, Montana set to begin on June 30. To further assist with my readjustment until then, I will focus on the immortal words of Milton Berle:

Laughter is an instant vacation.

Thankfully I manage to get a lot of that in!

Until Montana…

As I type right now I’m literally “at sea” and yes, I did say that I was not going to surrender to pay the crazy on board Internet charges, but I caved. Not due to boredom or anything – trust me on that, but rather I wanted to post an update and hating that I didn’t have the time while in port for our short time in Ketchikan yesterday and the fact that I’m pretty sure I’ll lack the time in Victoria.

Now for the bad news, since I am on the ship, I also will be unable to post pictures until later which REALLY bummed me out since I didn’t realize this until after logging on. So sadly you’ll all have to wait to see my pictures of Ketchikan and the others I took in Sitka – and possibly even the ones from Victoria I’ll take later.

What I wanted to make sure I did was at least chronicle the last couple of days since we’re now nearing the end of the trip which has really turned into a delight despite my first day or so of not understanding exactly what it is that I’d gotten myself into!

So Sitka. Sitka was Wednesday and is known as the “Paris of the North” although, despite a exhaustive Google search, I am unable to find a source that can explain why it was given that nickname. Another off-hand question…why is it not the other way around? Why isn’t Paris called instead the “Sitka of France” or something comparable? Thoughts? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

After I left the Internet cafe in Sitka, I headed over to an semi-out-of-the-way coffee shop which a local recommended called “The Back Door”. Great coffee and even greater molasses cookies. Seriously the best molasses cookie I think I have ever had. It was big and warm and postively melted in my mouth. In Sitka. Who knew? In fact, I enjoyed that cookie so much that I would return to Sitka just to have another one. Perhaps the Sitka visitors bureau should add this little-exposed fact in their tourist information packets or Chamber of Commerce publications…? Just a thought.

So with cookie in hand, I meandered over to Chapel Hill for the view and ran into a couple from our group so I had some company for the rest of my wanderings. We visited St. Michael’s which is a Russian Orthodox Church just about in the center of town. Apparently from 1840 to 1872, Sitka was the seat of the Russian Orthodox Diocese which governed all of the Russian Orthodox Churches in North America. The original structure was completed in 1848, but burned down in a major fire which hit the town in 1966. The building as it currently stands is an exact replica of the original and, amazingly enough, they were able to save roughly 90% of the artifacts that still reside in the chruch (icons, paintings, chandeliers, etc.).

After St. Michael’s, we walked over to the Sitka Raptor Center. I will admit here that my first thought was the raptor center had something to do with dinosaurs, although I didn’t tell anyone this since I was pretty sure I was wrong. I was. The Raptor Center is in fact a wild bird rehab. They receive injured raptors (bald eagles, owls, hawks, etc.) from all over North America and work to rehabilitate them for release back into the wild.

I have seen more than my share of bald eagles up-close-and-personal (as Es can attest to after our trip to Homer), but they never cease to impress me with their size and majestic presence. They command attention – and it clearly doesn’t matter if they’re sitting on a piling, soaring through the sky, or hangin’ in a pseudo-habitat.

Realizing that we were cutting it close if we were to head back to the ship on foot, we called a cab with a rather unique list of charges posted inside including a $100 charge for “pukers”. Naturally questions arose, so our driver explained that they often do a lot of shuttling of individuals home from the bars and so “pukers” became a nuisance because, well, who wants to clean up that? Hence the extra charge.

The rest of the evening on board ship was I think the best yet, followed closely by last night – but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Wednesday night first.

I went with a bunch of the group to dinner and then killed some time before the semi-finalist round of “Superstar” (this is the American Idol-esque show they do onboard that I mentioned in my last entry). Since they were having some technical difficulties, the MC for the event and the cruise director were having a time trying to come up with jokes to tell the audience. After a few rather lame ones, I ran up to the stage and stuck my head around the curtain and said, “Hey, why don’t you guys ask the audience if we have any jokes to share?” Our cruise director asked if I knew any and of course I couldn’t turn down an invitation like that! So I got up and shared a rendition of the best all-time Alaska catch-phrase that Janelle and I used so often I’ve lost count when explaining to people why we had difficulty meeting men in Alaska despite what is perceived as the exceptionally favorable ratio: “The odds are good, but the goods are odd.” Thankfully the audience thought this was as funny as we always have…and they don’t even know how true it is!

After the “Superstar” came a ventriloquist act in the main lounge area which was really cool. Never having seen aone live before, I was thoroughly impressed and laughed so hard my face actually began to hurt. Finished out the evening relaxing with a drink (or three) in one of the ships many bars.

And that was Wednesday, more or less.

Out late, up later. We had arrived in Ketchikan early yesterday morning, but I didn’t force myself out of bed until nearly 9:30. When I pulled back the balcony curtains, I was smacked in the face by bright sunshine and clear, blue skies – a welcome break from the previous few days of mostly clouds and rain…made even more amazing when you have the knowledge that Ketchikan is the city that gets the most rainfall in all of North America.

I took a shower and got myself off the ship by 10:30. Unfortunately we only had until 12:30 or so to explore which is why I didn’t have time to do the Internet thing while in port. I went up and down the roads right along the port, up the infamous Creek Street – Ketchikan’s former Red Light District so named for the creek that runs along its side which, as the old saying goes which was plastered across every t-shirt I saw, “is the only creek in the world both men and salmon go up to spawn”.

In search of totem poles, I wandered a little further into the residential area and ended up giving some pruning feedback to a local who was staring at a flowering bush in his yard, but otherwise didn’t see much in the way of residents – I think they had all retreated when they saw the approaching cruise ships, perhaps wisely.

I was back on the boat by about 11:45, ate some lunch outside on the Aft Deck by the pool and then went to a couple of events on board. This included getting roped in by a 12-year-old to play an adjusted version of “Family Feud”. I had just gone in to watch, but had a difficult time saying “no” to her when she begged and said they had to have an adult in order to play. And so I caved and so it was me and four 12-year-olds. Bet you all wish you could have seen that! I sort of felt like I was auditioning for “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” We actually didn’t do too badly (all things considered) and lasted through a couple of rounds, although the question we lost on came down to one of the girls who must not have understood the question because when asked to name one of the top five creatures that people would wipe out if they could (think spiders, mosquitoes, etc.), her answer was “fireflies”. Hm.

Afterward, I wandered around the ship a little and hit dinner alone on the Lido deck (everyone else was at “formal night” which I had more-or-less boycotted since I didn’t have the space to pack a cocktail dress before leaving). After dinner I met up with some people for the final show put on in total Broadway splendor – seriously. I’ve been to a lot of shows and what these performers did for us last night rivals much of what I’ve seen in and around Times Square.

After the show we hit the much ado-ed about “dessert buffet” where I’m sure one could literally drown in chocolate if one so desired which, in my book wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. Then a handful of us then went dancing until…well, there’s some debate as to what time it was. It was the night we changed the clocks back from AK to West Coast time, and we weren’t sure whether the clocks we saw had been updated yet or not. Either way, it was late.

This morning we had our group farewell meeting and then attended the disembarkation session where just about all 800 of the cruise ship crew lined the stage and sang for us (I have some pictures of that as well which I’ll surely post later). It was a little cheese, but it was fun cheese – like perhaps Gouda.

We arrive in Victoria, BC tonight around 6pm. I may or may not have time to get online again before heading home on Saturday night. If not, I’ll definitely post another blog (WITH pictures) when I get back home on Sunday.

So to get back to the title of this entry – how do you hug a cruise ship? Well, I haven’t entirely figured that out yet…my go-go-gadget arms have been malfunctioning… I may just have to settle for hugging the crew. I doubt I’ll have time for all 800 of them but perhaps a select few.

And there you have it. I’m a cruise convert and am definitely feeling a strong affinity for the ship in general – I’m only sorry it took so long for this to set in!

Thanks for reading – I know it’s not as fun when there aren’t any pictures to keep you entertained… I will add those when I get home.

In the meantime, hope you’re all having fun in your normal, ship-less, mountain-less, Alaska-less lives.

After my last entry in Juneau, I left the Internet cafe and walked back to the ship. This ended up being a very wet mile, but it was nice to get a semi-hike in. Back onboard, I got changed into dry clothes and went to dinner followed by a comedy show and then a version of “American Idol” they hold on board where passengers “try out” and then sing before a panel of judges which included our illustrious cruise director, one of the singers from the shows they do on board, and one of the DJs. It was most definitely a lot of fun.

I’ve finally realized something which maybe should have been more obvious, but I’m not always the first to catch onto stuff – a fact that will come as no surprise to many of you, I realize. Anyhow, what I’ve come to see is that going on a cruise is really almost more about the ship than it is about the destination. This being the case, I can see why it’s such a desireable thing to do in places like the Carribean. So rather than viewing the cruise as just a mode of transportation to take me someplace I want to be, like I would an airplane, the ship itself becomes an active participant in the overall vacation experience. I took some time and walked around the ship yesterday and found a cooking demonstration by one of the restaurant chefs, people winning and losing all kinds of money in the casino, a never-ending abundance of food being served in the various dining rooms, and shopping galore.

All this is to say that I’m finally starting to see what I need to do in order to get more enjoyment out of being on the ship itself…and who knows, this might just change my entire outlook on this trip.

Yesterday was a rather long day, partly because we didn’t get off the ship at all. I had sessions with my travel group in the morning. They’ve been taking us through a full DISC personality assessment which has been interesting – turns out I’m a High I and my overall profile is “The Persuader” (I is the highest with D next and then very low S and even lower C). At 12:15 we all met on the Aft Deck to get a group photo taken as we began motoring in to see The Glacier.

One might be tempted to think that if you’ve seen one glacier, you’ve seen them all. And while I agree with this statement, I also am always amazed by glaciers. They’re just really beautiful… Sadly because we were on a large cruise ship, we could not get in as close to the glacier as you can in places like Portage where the ship gets so close that the glacier fills your field of vision completely. Still, Hubbard was a pretty large and breathtaking sight.

After being outside so long I couldn’t really feel my fingers anymore, I went in, grabbed a tray of food, and went to the room to sit and eat on the balcony and continue to take in the stunning view.

I then did my walk around the boat – checked out the culinary arts demo, looked in every nook and cranny, and then went to change for dinner before heading over to our second group DISC session.

We all were given a gift card for The Pinnacle Grill which most of us were doing after the session. The food was great – I’ve never seen so much salmon on one plate in my life. I was able to eat about half of it before knowing that to continue would only mean pain. The chocolate volcano cake I had for dessert (because let’s face it, there’s ALWAYS room for dessert) was to absolutely die for.

Anyway, so after dinner I went to a magic show which was really fun – the man and wife team performing have done shows in Vegas and other places so you can imagine how talented they are. After that, there was another more intimate show playing in the lounge with the four singers who performed a medley of Broadway tunes – everything from “My Favorite Things” to tunes from “Rent”. Very fun.

I finally ended up my day as I do on the Aft Deck which gets really quiet after the pool and hot tub close down at 10pm. I sit out there with a glass of wine and enjoy the peace and beauty… It’s good to be alive.

Please don’t think that I got on the boat with this attitude entirely. If you read my previous blog entitled Why Cruise Ships Scare Me, you might think that I did. The fact is that, skeptical though I was, I still found myself excited by the prospect of getting on such a large ship and seeing a part of one of my “home” states that I’ve always longed to.

I’ve spent the last day or so – since we left the Port of Seattle on Saturday – trying to figure out a way to describe exactly what I think about the cruise. I still don’t know. The closest thing to a description I’ve been able to come up with is “surreal” – and even that doesn’t quite do it justice.

Let me at least give you something of a taste, if I may…

The ship is huge. Freakishly. I mean, there just are no words. It holds ~2,000 people (passengers & crew). 2,000. There are towns in Alaska that don’t even have that many residents. My cabinmate, Lisa, is really cool so for that I am exceedingly thankful as having a cabinmate that I didn’t like or had a difficult time relating to would have had a major impact on my ability to at least enjoy the cruise for what it is. Our room is also really cool. There is certainly something to be said for splurging and getting the nicer room with the balcony on an Alaskan voyage where you’re not going to spend your days sitting out on the Aft Pool Deck because it’s just too dang cold and/or rainy. Having a room you aren’t trying to come up with creative ways to avoid is nice…

Another thing I’ve enjoyed is the free-food thing. I love not having to pay for room service. I love being able to order breakfast in the morning which I can then enjoy sitting wrapped in a blanket on the balcony…and it’s all free – in a manner of speaking. On top of which, the food is actually good. I’m trying to also be healthy and, despite all of the various and tempting options, I’m choosing a lot of salads, seafood, and fruit – the last thing I need is to return from this cruise with all of the food I ate permanently attached to my thighs.

Something that I’ve found to be a bit of a bummer is the lack of intimacy. I realize that this is really unavoidable due to the size of the ship, but I still am sorry to find it missing. On my usual trips, the groups are so small that you end up meeting and really getting to know everyone else. On the cruise ship, I’ve gotten to know Lisa…and that’s about it. I’ve seen some of the other members of our group at the intermittent meetings we’ve had, but then they get swallowed by the ship and do not reemerge until the next meeting!

So, Saturday Jel dropped me off at the dock and I went through the somewhat arduous process of checking-in for the cruise line. After dropping everything off in the room, I found the hospitality desk that the group I was with had set up on Deck 3. Afterwards, I went on a tour of the spa (I’m scheduled for a massage tomorrow and pedicure on Friday). We had a lifeboat drill, and then left port around 4:30pm.

Sunday was an “At Sea” day which translated into a mild amount of boredom for me, but I made do. I walked around the boat some, but discovered that most people were feeling ill (the water was pretty choppy as we were circumventing a storm) and as a result, I kept finding little, shall we say, “reminders” of this that some left around the ship. Not pleasant. I have never had trouble with seasickness and so while I did feel sorry for people who were suffering, I love the motion of being on the water so it was all I could do not to stand out on the balcony and beg for more!

Last night was probably the most surreal so far. I didn’t go to the formal dinner night, but ate instead in the casual dining area on the Lido Deck (don’t ask me what it means) and then Lisa and I went over to watch one of the shows on board. This is where it starts getting a little bizarre for me. Remembering that the biggest boat I’ve ever been on (aside from a ferry) before Saturday is a 50-foot catamaran, it is just beyond wild to me that you could be on the water in what amounts to a floating building that houses not only a couple thousand people, but also two pools, a spa, basketball courts, a couple of restaurants, a night club, cafe, full gym, as well as a stage and movie theater. Nuts.

Anyway, so I’m watching these people dance around on stage singing in Broadway-caliber voices and all the while thinking to myself, “I’m on a ship. I’m floating on the water right now. These people are dressed up in sequin-ridden clothing and doing dance routines in a stage on the water.” For those out there who have previously done cruising, I understand that this may be a little, “Well, duh” for you, but my boating background is very different and my mind is just having a hard time reconciling this experience with my previous ones.

Okay, so that was yesterday. Today we arrived in Juneau. I think the ship got into port around 10:00am and everyone started to disembark for their various excursions by about 10:30. Mine didn’t leave until 11:45 so I took my time and stayed onboard as long as I could since it has been both raining and cold here today.

As I said in the beginning of this entry, I ran away from my tour as quickly as soon as I could. I enjoyed the tour – it was a Photo Safari of Land & Sea. I was extremely pleased that the guide was actually from Alaska – or at least had lived here in Juneau for the last 31 years. You wouldn’t believe how many people do tours in other parts of the state that are simply here for a summer job and are actually from Colorado or something. This was one of my pet peeves in Anchorage – I couldn’t stand going for a rafting trip and having the guide not be able to answer some of the specific-to-Alaska questions I had because he didn’t actually know anything about the state, he’d only come to raft.

We saw some great stuff on the tour. Mendenhall Glacier is beautiful – and out on the boat we got to see a baby humpback whale breech which was really cool, but I can’t say that I felt the whole trip was worth what I paid. In fact, I’m going to see about canceling my other two shore excursions when I get back to the ship. I think I’d rather just come into town and do my own thing… I’m glad I got to see the whale – really. But I think I would have done just fine on my own. Especially here in Juneau where there’s plenty to do. It’s a small city, but it’s not that small.

And so here’s the rest of the week’s agenda:

• Tuesday – Hubbard Glacier
• Wednesday – Sitka
• Thursday – Ketchikan
• Friday – Victoria, BC
• Saturday – Seattle

Tomorrow we don’t leave the ship again. Wednesday we do, but not for a full-day like today. Same with Thursday. From Thursday night until 6pm Friday, we’ll be on the ship also. Friday night we only have a few hours in Victoria and then we have to steam ahead to be back in Seattle by 7am or so Saturday morning.

I have to admit that it’s good to be back in AK. I miss it a lot… I still don’t think I’d want to live in the Southeast part of the state – too much rain. But there’s something about the state itself that I have just always been in love with. The mountains, the ocean, the eagles, the whales…take your pick. Not to mention that this was the first place I chose to call “home” when I moved out on my own lo those many moons ago. I’m sure for that reason it will always have a special place in my heart. For now, what I can say is that I think I’ll be coming back to Southeast AK at some point in the future. I’m thinking a 2-week kayak trip in July/August or the like…

In the meantime, I will value this trip for what it is and what it offers and hopefully will be able to send another update from Sitka. Apologies if this entry was a little disjointed…maybe by Sitka I’ll have my thoughts a little more in order.

This was not my first trip to Niagara Falls, nor do I suspect it will be my last. My parents brought me here when I was little (I think I was 8 or 9) and I have definite memories of the trip and particularly the Falls, but needless to say it has changed a bit over the last 25+ years. Not so much the Falls themselves as I don’t imagine they’ve really changed all that much in the last few thousand years, but the surrounding area definitely has. The addition of buildings, hotels, and neon-casinos have probably also meant the addition of more tourists making it all-but-impossible to imagine what the Falls must have looked like to the first human eyes that took them in when they were surrounded by nothing but wilderness. I thought about that a lot while I was there. What must that have been like to “stumble” across something this immense and magnificent for the first time? Surely they would have heard the Falls long before first seeing them… Did they wonder what that endless thundering sound was? I would think the sound alone would be a little frightening without knowing the source. Could they have fathomed the sight they were to encounter?

Well, before launching head-long into my weekend, let me save you some of the suspense and say that no, I did not go on the Maid of the Mist or the Journey Behind the Falls. It is not so much that I wasn’t interested in doing these things, but that I did do them when I was little (and I still remember it), and it was also a rather cold weekend and I just didn’t much care for the idea of spending part of a windy and chilly Saturday drenched to the core. Like I said, I highly doubt that this will be my last trip to Niagara and I’ll just work those in then.

Now for the weekend play-by-play…

Friday started early. I met up with the group I was going with to Niagara in the Church of the Savior parking lot in Wayne, PA at 7:30 a.m. – Starbucks firmly in hand. We boarded the minibus and were on our way around 8 or so. 7 hours and 3 pit-stops later, we arrived at the Rodeway Inn Fallsview on the Canadian side of the Niagara River. I’m not going to bore you with all of the thoughts I had on the lodging situation, but I think you’ll get the idea when you hear that the best thing I can say about the Rodeway is that at least it had four walls. I’m not trying to be a snob because I’m sure it was economical and all, and those of you that know me know how much I love roughing it…but I feel very strongly that “roughing it” is a phrase that should only be used in association with camping, NOT hotels. I don’t feel that I relax as well or have nearly as much fun when staying in a place where I’m afraid to take my shoes off. Sure, camping is dirty and all, but let’s just say that if I dropped a hotdog on the ground while camping, I would be far more inclined to brush it off and eat it anyway where as there is absolutely no way I would eat anything that hit the floor at the Rodeway.

So as you might imagine after we checked in, I left the room as quickly as I could and headed down with a group of people to take in The Falls.

Wow. And allow me to say again, wow.

They were big and loud (but not in a bad way) and gorgeous. I couldn’t stop staring at them. The path along the road was speckled with viewfinders (you know, the kind you stick a quarter in – or dollar in this case – and look through the holes) which made me wonder if people really had that much trouble seeing them with the naked eye? The Falls also amazed me at the way they would change size based on where you were standing. For example, from the top of Murray Street, the American Falls look like towering giants – as if you would get down to the bottom of the street and have to be looking up at the Falls. From the Niagara Parkway which runs alongside the river, the Falls still look big, but definitely on an equal parallel. Then, from the US side (which we visited yesterday afternoon), the Falls look even larger up-close than they did from the landscape vantage point on the Candanian side (which I kinda preferred, but more on that later).

Friday night we all went out to dinner to a place called Cocoa’s on Murray Street. We sat outside which turned out to be a rather chilly decision, and ended up huddling around the heat lamps that were strategically placed on the patio area. Afterwards, some of us headed back to the hotel and layered-up (it was REALLY cold…I even toyed with the idea of strapping one of the heat lamps to my back to carry around all evening, but in the end I decided it wouldn’t have been very practical, and I might have even caught fire). We were back down to view the Falls by 9 when they were lit up by both spotlights and fireworks. I managed to get some relatively decent pictures considering I’m still trying to figure out my camera and am pretty far from mastering night scenes.

Saturday I was up by 9-ish and out hunting for Starbucks by 10. I managed to find one with some nice outdoor seating where I chilled (literally – it was still cold) and enjoyed my latte before beginning my 7-hour self-guided walking tour of Niagara Falls.

I wandered down to the Falls, walked North along Niagara Parkway until it became River Road and ran right up to Rainbow Bridge. I followed the sidewalk under the bridge where there was an exotic bird aviary. I like birds so I bought a ticket and walked through. It was fun to see all the birds and, even though it doesn’t compare to seeing Red Macaws in the wilds of the Amazon, I still enjoyed myself.

I came out and walked back down and, despite how windy and even chilly it still was, I found that all the walking was quite a workout – especially in the sun – so I decided that a stop at the hotel was in order. I changed and headed back out to the IMAX theater where they were showing a film about the Falls covering its history and some of the raving lunatics…er, I mean BRAVE SOULS…who have launched themselves off of the Falls inside “barrels” made of everything from wood to home insulation.

After the movie I walked for another couple of hours, taking pictures all the while. I stopped to find a tacky souvenir toothpick holder for Es and pick up a Niagara Falls Starbucks mug to add to my collection at home. Finally I decided that I’d had enough alone time (somehow I managed to not run into anyone from the group all day) and went back to the hotel to see if anyone else was contemplating dinner.

About half of us ended up eating at The Keg inside the Embassy Suites (good steak, EXCELLENT mushrooms stuffed with crab and cream cheese) and then one of the women who I’d become friends with (Julie) and I walked down to the hip-and-happening Clifton Hill area. We found a sports bar, had a couple of drinks and dessert, and closed out the night taking some photos in front of the Casino on Fallsview.

Sunday was a long day. It started out even colder than Saturday with a sky that threatened rain all day long (eventually making good on that threat). We had to get up and have the minibus loaded by 9, however we weren’t actually shoving off for brunch at the Skylon until 10, so Julie and I decided to walk over to the Tower after we handed over our suitcases. We made a quick souvenir shop stop and met the group in the lobby.

Brunch was good and we had a beautiful view of the Falls from our seats. FYI – if you ever go, be sure you ask to be seated in the main dining room which is a revolving restaurant. Wherever it was that they seated us didn’t move an inch.

After brunch we spent 2 hours (give or take) waiting to cross the border back to the U.S. (which was exhausting and subsequently made us about 2 hours late getting home). Anyhow, once we got back into the good ol’ U.S. of A., we stopped for awhile in Niagara Falls State Park for some photos and a completely different (and in some ways better) view of the Falls.

I say “better” because as beautiful as the Falls were from the Canadian vantage point, and as nice as it was to be able to stand in one spot and view them all at once, there was just something really majestic about being right next to them – thundering water cascading down 22 stories at the tune of 600,000 gallons per second – in other words, one-half of the Mediterranean Sea. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

I think some of the pictures I took Sunday afternoon are still pretty, but it would’ve been nice if it hadn’t been so overcast. You can judge for yourself. I’ve of course included my fave pics in this entry, but if you want to view all of my shots from the trip, visit my Niagara Falls album.

All-in-all, it was a nice weekend. I got some sun (a little more than I would’ve liked, actually – I’m still feeling it on my face and upper arms), I walked probably close to 20 miles, and got to spend some quality time with one of the natural wonders of the world.

I will leave you with a couple of quotes. One from Charles Dickens in which he described his Niagara Falls encounter during his visit there in 1842. He certainly puts it far more eloquently than I. And, because I like to keep things fun, the final quote is from Mark Twain upon his visit to the Falls:

When we were seated in the little ferry-boat, and were crossing the swollen river immediately before both cataracts, I began to feel what it was: but I was in a manner stunned, and unable to comprehend the vastness of the scene. It was not until I came on Table Rock, and looked – Great Heaven, on what a fall of bright-green water! – that it came upon me in its full might and majesty.

Then, when I felt how near to my Creator I was standing, the first effect, and the enduring one – instant and lasting – of the tremendous spectacle, was Peace. Peace of Mind, tranquility, calm recollections of the Dead, great thoughts of Eternal Rest and Happiness: nothing of gloom or terror. Niagara was at once stamped upon my heart, an Image of Beauty; to remain there, changeless and indelible, until its pulses cease to beat, for ever.
– Charles Dickens, American Notes for General Circulation, 1842

Although it was wonderful to see all that water tumbling down, it would be even more wonderful to see all that water tumbling up.
– Mark Twain

So, when we last met, I had just gotten back from Machu Picchu (still not over that one!) and was back in Cuzco on the night of 26 March. Monday the 27th began pretty much like any other day with nothing specific on the agenda. I was up much earlier than Nancy, as per usual, and after a shower decided to go for a walk and find some breakfast. I figured there must be some places open since it was a work day and therefore people in general would be out and about earlier going to school, work, what-have-you.. But alas, practically everything was closed. I saw a few open markets, but not a whole lot else. Thankfully I found a place on the Plaza de Armas where Nancy and I´d had lunch last week (The Yaku Mama Cafe), so I went in ordered myself a pancake (read: crépe) with coffee, fresh fruit, toast, with juice and got to watch the heart of the city of Cuzco come alive. It was a fantastic morning – a little crisp, but sunny and just what I needed after having so many thoroughly exhausting (but rewarding!) days of strenuous physical activity.

Other than that, not much went on… We had lunch out with Aileen & Kirsten, visited a market briefly, laid about for a chunk of the afternoon, a quick briefing on what to expect with regards to the next couple of days itinerary, and then had dinner out with those who were left of our original group (Aileen, Kirstin, Imogene, & Marissa – Marissa was the only one left who wouldn´t be joining us in the Amazon trek having already done an excursion into the rainforest in Brazil prior to joining us for the Inca Trail).

Tuesday the 28th is when things started to become interesting again. For starters, it was my birthday (yay!) and what a fabulous day it was…

We met up Tuesday morning for breakfast at 9am and were on our way to the airport by 10:30 or so for our 1-hour flight to Puerto Maldonado in the southern part of the Amazon jungle. A quick but humorous kerfuffle: There was a bit of a problem with my checking in – apparently the LAN Peru rep didn´t look at my passport closely and checked me in as Collin Miller on a flight to Lima. Thankfully we got the mistake corrected before my bag made it onto the wrong flight.

At the airport we were met by stifling humidity as well as our guide, Daniel, who loaded us onto a bus and drove us through the city to the GAP office where we could transfer our junk for the jungle into smalled (and far more manageable) duffle bags. I can´t understand it, but I would swear that my bag has gotten heavier since arriving which makes no sense as I´ve bought next to nothing so far, and I feel like I´m wearing more of the heavier clothes… This is a phenomenon I´ve discovered tends to occur on overseas trips and I´m wondering if there´s some sort of hidden law of physics that might explain it…?

Anyhow, after scaling down our belongings, we were driven a short way to a small boat dock where they loaded us into a fiberglass boat and we began our 3-hour journey up the Tambopata River to the lodge that would be our home for the next couple of days.

Like the Inca Trail, I feel it´s going to be next to impossible to describe really just how exciting this part of the trip was, but I´ll do my best.

The boat trip alone was a thrill… We saw a caiman (alligator), a capybara (the world´s largest rodent that can weigh-in at over 130 pounds), turtles, and countless birds. It was like being on a water safari. Daniel (our guide) was superb – able to spot things from a mile off with his bionic eyes and point them out to us. It was sunny and humid still, but the lilac-scented breeze from the speed of boat really made the ride comfortable.

We had to make a stop at a checkpoint along the river bank where we climbed up a long wooden staircase, filled in a guestbook of sorts with our name, occupation, destination, length of visit, etc. and then got our passports stamped (for about the 80th time this trip). At that point we were only about another 30 minutes from the lodge.

The lodge. How to describe it… Would “paradise” or “utopia” be too strong? How about “perfect”, “amazing”, and “freaking cool”? I honestly can´t think of any good analogies for it… I would say that it´s kind of like adult camp, but that doesn´t even come close to doing it justice. I think I may have to just say it´s one of those places you have to see to believe and leave it at that.

From the boat all we could see at first was a long wooden staircase leading up from the bank of the river. After climbing it, we found ourselves on a stone pathway which led a little ways in to the heart of the lodge which is comprised of 14 bungalows (or cabins), a bar, a dining room, a kitchen, and some other staff buildings.

It is called the Libertador Tambopata Lodge and is one of 9 lodges of its kind in the Tambopata River region of the Amazon making this one of the top destinations for eco-tourism in South America.

The bungalows feature cold water showers, no electricity, or any other major modern conveniences (however they do at least have toilet seats on the bowls which is more than I can say for most places in Peru). Bedrooms in the double bungalows share a common roof with open space between so basically there´s no such thing as “true” privacy here. Beds are all provided with their own mosquito nets as you can never be too careful (I´ve come to enjoy sleeping under it so much I think I might like one for home). The pathways outside are lit at night by naked torches and the rooms all by candlelight and/or kerosene lamps. Basically to be happy here, you need to be pretty okay with totally roughing it which naturally for me translates into a near-heaven experience.

The lodge also has a baby spider monkey on the grounds which they are looking after until he can take care of himself. His name is Wally (as in “and the Beaver”). He´s only 9 mons old and absolutely adorable (except when he pees on the ground and then proceeds to lick it up…then he´s pretty gross, but that didn´t happen too often – the first time this happened, Kirsten´s response was, “Oh come on now, nobody´s that thirsty”). They keep him in a cage at night to protect him from possible predators, but otherwise he just wanders the grounds and will come running out of the brush and up the legs of anyone going past if feeling in the need of a little affection. Didn´t take long for us all to fall in love.

After we arrived on Tuesday, we checked into our rooms, were shown a short slide presentation about the rainforest, and then headed out for a “night walk” before dinner. Since a large number of Amazonian creatures are nocturnal, naturally the best time to try and spot them is after dark so we braved getting positively eaten alive by mosquitoes or, worst yet, carried off by some for the chance to see some of the night wonders of the Amazon.

Through the course of the walk we saw trantulas and multitudes of other types of spiders, but unfortunately that was about it – oh, except for the bat that flew into our midst at one point when we turned off our flashlights just to listen to the sounds of the forest which was somewhat unnerving. The group that took the walk after us also spotted some night monkeys and an armadillo. That was fine, though, because the next day made up for it.

The dinner they served us when we got back was fab, especially by candlelight, and we´d even brought a couple of bottles of wine which we cracked into one in part to celebrate my “big day”. After dinner, we all retired to the bar for drinks, a round of “Happy Birthday to You”, and even some presants which I thought was just BEYOND sweet.

We had an early morning ahead of us (wake-up knock was coming at 5:30am), so we went to bed somewhat on the early-side for us and I slept better than I think I have in weeks…

So Wednesday came with our 5:30 awakening, breakfast at 6, and then us back on a river boat around 6:30 or so to explore Lake Condenado (an ox-bow lake about 15 minutes or so upriver) and the surrounding rainforest.

According to the lodge guide we were provided, ox-bow lakes are:

…old-remnant river courses cut-off from the main river by the effects of erosion and the constant shifting of river channels.

To put it more plainly, Lake Condenado used to be part of the Tambopata River, but now it’s not. The journey there proved to be a thrill ride complete with a siting of red howler monkeys (which Daniel told us were not often seen), saddleback tamarin monkeys, several colonies of army ants, the largest tree in the Amazon, and even a poison arrow frog (a VERY small specimen that Daniel also said was rare to find). The natives used to put it on the tips of their arrows as one drop could kill as many as 10 men. We also got to climb inside what was left of a tree that had been worked over by a Strangler Fig (got a picture of the inside of that which I’ll post).

Out on the lake we saw a Mealy Parrot, a Kingfisher, sleeping bats, as well as a strange bird called a Hoatzin which is usually difficult to spot given its extreme shyness. It’s a large bird with oddly-colored feathers and wings that apparently don’t allow it to fly very well, so instead it uses them along with the little prehistoric-like claws it has on its wing-joints to propel itself up trees. We saw Angel Fish in the lake as well (I always sort of wondered if they did actually live in the wild somewhere, or if they were instead confined to pet shops and classroom fishtanks).

After we returned, I spent most of the afternoon relaxing. Around 3pm a group went over to a nearby farm, but I opted to stay back at the lodge, have a nap, and do some birdwatching from the porch of our little bungalow. I saw at least 6 different birds that I didn’t recognize (a couple of which I still need to try and identify), a Paradise Tanager (GORGEOUS bird – try and look up a picture if you can), as well as 2 Scarlet Macaws that flew directly overhead. Apparently the group at the farm actually got to see them in a tree which I wonder if it could have been the same ones I saw flying… In any case, one got a fantastic picture that he’s going to send me. Naturally, all these parrot sitings have made me miss my own bird, but I’ll be home soon enough.

That night before dinner we went out on a caiman (alligator)-watching adventure. Loaded into a riverboat, we motored up and down the river with one of the guides scanning the shoreline with a giant spotlight hoping to catch some caiman’s on the riverbank. We got to see quite a few as well as one of those giant rodents again and a night-bird of some kind (I know we were told the name of it, but it elludes me at the moment). There are a decent amount of baby caimans out right now and so the guide was able to actually grab one of them and bring it on the boat so we could take pictures as well as even pet it, if we were so inclined which I was. It was definitely a fun and exotic way to spend an evening.

Another dinner, round of drinks, and fabulous night’s sleep brought us to our final morning. We had breakfast and then boarded the riverboat one last time to transport us back down the Tambopata. We took a bus from a different port this time and 45 minutes later we were back in Puerto Maldonado where we picked up our original bags and were then left at the airport for our flight back to Lima marking the end of the trip, more or less.

We arrived in Lima yesterday around 4:30 or so, had dinner out at a local restaurant (food was really good), and now today will just be killing time until my flight out tonight at midnight. Not particularly looking forward to a red-eye flight (I really hate them), but I’m also feeling ready to come home. Nancy’s still up in our room – she was just waking up when I was leaving to come down here and get this blog going. I don’t think we have much of a plan today, but I’m sure it includes some shopping and eating. We might do a Lima city tour, but I don’t know if a final decision had been made on that.

Since I haven’t mentioned my grandfather in a few entries, I’ll just provide a quick update on that here – he’s been pretty much holding his own these past couple of weeks, but the impression I’ve gotten is that it’s still hard to tell exactly what we should expect going forward or how much longer he’ll be able to remain with us. My plan right now is that I’ll be home in PA through next Tuesday. Tuesday night I’m taking a flight down to Atlanta to see him and will be working from there through the end of the week, returning on Sunday. So please continue to keep him and my whole family in your prayers.

I would say that this would be my last blog, however I will probably post just one more with respect to this trip when I get home to cover some missing items and also to make some closing commentary which I don’t feel I can adequately do while still sitting in Peru, if that makes sense. So, with that I’ll just say goodbye for now and enjoy the pictures!

In case you’re wondering, I’m calling this entry “A Walk in the Cloud Forest” as most of the Inca Trail is located in what is known as a Cloud Forest which is a wet, tropical forest located at high altitudes and often sports cloud cover, even in the dry season.

Let me begin by saying that the Inca Trail is no cake walk…not by a long shot. And I’ve got to admit that it’s got me wondering about these tales I’d previously heard about 80+ year-old women doing this hike. I really don’t see how they possibly could have made it unless they were a) in phenomenal shape, or b) strapped to the back of one of the porters. It was absolutely, positively, without a shade of doubt, 100% the hardest physical challenge I’ve ever undertaken. However, having done it now, I feel pretty certain that I could do just about anything. So who wants to join me on my Everest summit attempt? Kidding, of course… But I think I may have lost about 10 pounds over the last 4 days having burned at least 6,000 calories per day. You think I’m exaggerating, but I assure you I’m not!

Naturally I’m not going to make you relive the entire trail with me… As much as I would like to, I think it would just be too difficult to try and convey some of what went on over paper (or computer screen, as the case may be…). What I will try to do is provide some highlights at least, and honestly I think the pictures will probably speak louder than my words ever could – they’ll probably scream so loudly from the page you’ll wish you had ear plugs.

Our group was absolutely fabulous.  We were comprised of 2 Canadians, 2 Scots, 5 Americans, 2 Australians, and 3 English plus our primary guide, Carlos, and another guide named German (with the “g” pronounced like an “h”). Tack onto that 21 porters and 2 chefs and you can understand just how large this group was. Everyone was a little quiet at first, but that didn’t last too long on a trail where you’re sleeping about 2 feet away from each other and having to share bathrooms and meals along with blood, sweat, and tears. There wasn’t any actual blood, that I’m aware of, but there was certainly sweat and tears at times, but I’m getting ahead of myself…

We were starting out to do the trail in the typical 4 days starting at Kilometer 82 (there’s the option of starting at KM 88, but not for us!). The schedule Carlos was taking us on was to cover 14 km on Day 1 (that’s about 8.7 miles for those of you who might be a little metrically challenged), 16 km on Day 2 (10 miles), 8 km on Day 3 (5 miles), and reaching Machu Picchu after the final 6 km on Day 4 (3.7 miles).

Day 1 – Over the River & into the Woods

We were picked up at 8am from our lodge in Ollantaytambo (which, appropriately was called the Ollantaytambo Lodge) and taken on what I would venture to call one of the most hair-raising rides of my life. The road was, shall we say, a bit “off the beaten track” to put it mildly. Picture 4-wheeling, but in a bus.

Our ride down this one-lane dirt road which ran alongside the Urubamba River took us over a bridge (that I’m not altogether sure wasn’t just for show as we nearly rolled off of it) but climaxed when a truck that was blocking our path proceeded to dump about 2 tons of dirt on the road before moving. We then had to wait for the workers to clear enough of the mound that we could carry on (I got that part on video).

We finally reached the trail head, crossed the bridge which ran over the Urubamba River, and began hiking just after 10am. We made a couple of stops, including for lunch around 1:30 and then continued on to our first campsite which was at a place called Yunkachimpa.

One of the things that was just amazing was to watch how this whole operation was maintained. Over the course of the trail, you’d watch as the porters who were part of each group literally ran past you on the trail carrying approximately 2,000 times their own weight on their backs, get to the lunch stop or campsite ahead of everyone, and have the tents set up and meals cooked by the time you huffed and puffed your way in at whatever time it would take the people who hadn’t been bitten by radio-active spiders to complete the same distance. Tack onto that the fact that their footware mostly consisted of nothing more than sandals…and some of them weren’t even wearing that much! They were positively amazing.

Most of the day was gorgeous – sunny and warm… I even found myself wishing that I had brought some of my tank tops with me on the trail (I had left them all back at the hotel in Cuzco). But, as Carlos warned us, the weather can be very unpredictable especially during this time of year and in the altitudes we were hiking at. So it came as no surprise when it started raining sometime around dinner and cooled down considerably at night so that I was in my sleeping bag wearing 2 layers as well as my hat and gloves to keep warm.

(As a side note, this first day of the trail was Thursday, March 23 – my grandfather’s birthday. I told the group this, and they all agreed to sing Happy Birthday to him which Nancy got on video. I hope I can show that to him at some point.)

It was a long day, and relatively trying physically – at dinner we discussed how some people had been told that Day 1 is the second hardest day. We had no idea what we would be dealing with on Day 2.

Day 2 – Over Dead Woman Boob…I mean, PASS

Day 2 started with one of the toughest climbs I’ve ever done. We were woken up at 5:30 by porters at our tent door with hot water and our choice of tea or coffee to give us a good start. Breakfast was at 6 and then we were back on the trail by 6:30 heading up Dead Woman Pass.

We actually had 2 major passes to get through on Day 2. The first was Dead Woman Pass which sits at 4,200 meters (13,780 feet) which is the highest point on the hike. The elevation of our camp had been at roughly 3,500 meters (11,483 feet) and so we were setting out to climb almost 2,300 feet first thing in the morning at a higher elevation than most of you reading this have probably ever been – this height was a first for all but one of us in the group. It’s almost impossible for me to try and relate to you exactly what this hike was like and how difficult it was – not so much because of the muscular effort involved, but because of the elevation. When you’re trying to do extreme exercise in thin air like that, you wouldn’t believe how quickly you get out of breath, and it’s that more than the effort involved with taking steps up the mountain that completely undo you. For example, personally I don’t feel like 2,300 feet is not that bad of a climb – I’ve done more than that hiking in Alaska, but climbing 2,300 feet when starting at sea-level is a completely different undertaking than 2,300 feet starting from almost 11,500.

We were told that Dead Woman Pass is called that because the mountains resemble a dead woman lying on her back. Um…yeah. Whatever. In reality it looked like a giant boob (look at my picture captioned “Heading Up Dead Woman Pass” and you’ll see the “boob” on the right).

I mostly climbed with Kirsten (one of our new Scottish friends) and Nancy. Kirsten and I kept pretty much the same pace which was to go about 50-60 feet, and then stop to catch our breath. 50-60 more feet, and then stop. And so it went until we finally reached the top of Dead Woman Pass. Oh, and did I mention that it was raining the entire climb as well as being cold and windy? Fabulous! (I’m sure you’re all reading my sarcasm there, but the fact is that I even turned to Kirsten about 3/4 of the way up the pass and said, “You know, even as hard as this is and as wet and cold as I am, there is still absolutely no place else that I would rather be right now” – and I honestly meant that).

But getting to the top of Dead Woman was only a portion of what we had to accomplish for the day. As soon as we reached the summit, we started the rocky (read: death-trap) descent into utter madness down 1,968 feet (where we stopped briefly for lunch) before climbing another 900 or so feet up the second pass (Runkuraqay), and then descending down the other side to our camp at Chakiqocha, just past the ruins of Sayacmarca.

At some point when coming down Runkuraqay Pass, I got ahead of the rest of our group so I hiked on my own for awhile which I enjoyed. I didn’t really see all the Inca ruins of Sayacmarca as they were located up a steep staircase that I just couldn’t talk myself into climbing after what I had just put my legs through, but I did pause briefly and considered it before decided to just continue on to camp. Thankfully the rain had stopped by that point and the sun was even threatening to come out, so I couldn’t help but sing a few rounds of “Here Comes The Sun” to myself as I plodded along (eventually I got tired of hearing my own voice so I took out my iPod and let the professionals take over).

Dinner that night was the quietest meal we’d yet had as a group. Everyone was absolutely exhausted – in fact, I wish I had done some video of our first dinner because the contrast of that to our second night was really almost comical.

Carlos also congratulated all of us at tea after we got into camp on having completed the toughest part of the hike. It was at this point that he told us that often times on trips one or two people in the group need to turn back on Day 2 – either having not been prepared for the level of physical fitness required to complete the hike, or just overtaken with altitude sickness. We were discussing this later and all agreed that it was a REALLY good thing he didn’t tell us about this prior to Day 2 as it could have really had a negative psychological effect on some if not all of us… But telling us AFTER the fact was great as it only further enhanced our feelings of accomplishment at having made it that far.

That night after dinner as we were getting ready to head to bed, we noticed that the sky had finally cleared and stars were out with a vengeance. I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw that many stars… I’m sure I probably have in Alaska, but it’s been years. They were positively breathtakingly spectacular. Apparently it’s too early in the year to be able to see the Southern Cross which I didn’t mind so much since I got to see it in Thailand, but what I did find fascinating was that Orion was visible, but in a position flipped around from how I usually see him at home – really drove home exactly what our location on the globe currently is.

Day 3 – Is It Much Further Pappa Smurf?

Day 3 really was an absolute pleasure cruise after what we had been through on Day 2. We didn’t have to get up as early (which translated into something like 6:30, I think).

We hiked for only about half the day overall, and took our time more so than on the previous 2 days. We stopped to see the ruins of Phuyupatamarca (“City in the Clouds”)and Intipata (“Sun Place”) along the way before reaching our camp at Wiñaywayna.

Wiñaywayna means “Forever Young” which I enjoyed finding out. Some of us had trouble remembering exactly how to say it, so one of the Canadians (Jason) just started calling it “Willy Wonka” because it sounded pretty similar.

The campsite itself was more crowded than the others had been as it is the final campsite before reaching Machu Picchu. As a result it also had a little more in the way of modern conveniences (if you can call them that!). For 5 solés you could have a shower (a huge treat!) and there was even a bar where we all happily settled with a beer or Pisco Sour (local drink that I’ve really taken to), feeling clean and fresh in time to see the most perfect rainbow form over the mountains.

At 4:00 we met back at our camp to walk over to the ruins of Wiñaywayna with Carlos. Having seen other ruins along the way, I was pretty much figuring that these would be similar. I was not prepared for the scale and beauty of these.

I’m attaching pictures, but believe me when I say that they don’t even come close to doing it justice. They were just magnificent and surrounded by such utter beauty as the Andes as well just was almost an overload of gorgeousness (remember, of course, that I hadn’t seen Machu Picchu yet).

Coming down the slope into the actual ruins, they looked almost fake – like someone had superimposed them over a mountain backdrop. (I think someone also commented that it kinda did remind them of Willy Wonka´s Chocolate Factory). Carlos walked us around and discussed the ruins some… There’s a waterfall that sits right behind the ruins which feeds water both to Wiñaywayna and then continues on to Machu Picchu. Wiñaywayna was also the last stop to wash before reaching Machu Picchu.

We lingered awhile, took some pictures, were treated to yet another rainbow over the mountains (our third in almost as many days which I think is more than I’ve seen in my life up till now), and then wandered back to camp for tea.

It was starting to get dark, but Nancy suggested that I go and get the video camera since it would be our last tea together and she wanted to try and get some video before it got too dark. I thought nothing of this and ran to get the camera. When I got back, Carlos asked Nancy to step out of the mess tent for a moment, and when they returned, they did so with our chef and a birthday cake made out of super-thick pancakes covered in an orange-flavored icing with “Happy Birthday Deborah” written on it with candles a-blazing! I could not have been more surprised – especially considering that my birthday isn’t until Tuesday, but what a treat to get to celebrate it on the Inca Trail with this group of people who we really seemed to have bonded with pretty well given the short period of time we’d all been together.

I blew out the candles and Nancy gave me a card which she’d managed to get the whole group to sign. Then the curtain parted again and another cake emerged as apparently it was Carlos’s birthday the next day (March 26).

After the second blowing out of candles, Carlos told me I had to come join him for a Peruvian tradition having to do with blowing out the candles, making a wish, and taking the first bite of cake. I got up and went with him to the head of the table as they re-lit my candles and (I SO should have seen this coming) when I leaned in to take the bite of cake – keeping a close eye on Carlos to try and anticipate some sort of joke, the assistant chef shoved my face directly into the cake!! (See what I mean by I should have seen that coming??) Nancy managed to get the whole thing on video which I’m looking forward to watching – I’m sure it must have been a riot to see – and I was laughing pretty hard as well.

After dinner we had a final ceremony to say farewell and gracias to our porters and cooks (many were to leave us the next day with most of the gear, with only a few remaining to carry our duffel bags down to Machu Picchu for our final trek back to Cuzco). There was laughter and singing and dancing (the porters sang and pulled a few of us girls in to dance with them, myself included).

So it was a good day. Finished with a final beer at the bar and then in bed ready to be up at 4am to prepare for the final trek to Machu Picchu – the whole reason we were doing this in the first place.

Day 4 – The Unveiling

Up at 4am, in line for the checkpoint just below camp at 5am, and on our way to Intipunku (“Sun Gate”) and Machu Picchu by 5:30 or so. It was going to be a long day, but the excitement from the past 3 had been building and I think we were all ready to see what we’d been hiking all this way for. Naturally there was a partial fear of it being anticlimactic, but we had nothing to worry about.

We reached the Sun Gate at just about 6:30am. This is the location where you’re supposed to get your first magnificent view of Machu Picchu. SUPPOSED to, but don’t always because – as we’d been learning – the weather is incredibly unpredictable in the rainy season especially, and so we were aware that, should there be much fog and clouds around the mountains, our first view might be of nothing…and indeed it was. We were met at Sun Gate with loads of white and not much more. In some ways, it didn’t matter – we knew we were still on the true homestretch and we found it rather funny that there was nothing to see.

Not in any particular hurry to get down (and waiting for the entire group to make it to the top) we all settled in and had a quick snack, drink of water, and just chilled out. Over the course of the next few minutes, we got the best surprise… A break in the clouds!

All of us at Sun Gate (including the other groups that had come up around the same time) watched as the clouds slowly began to move apart and Machu Picchu appeared… Ghost-like, at first, but becoming more and more clear by the minute. The reaction from those of us there was unanimous – and cheer went up and everyone applauded. It really was as if someone had seated us all in an auditorium and then slowly drew back the curtain.

Machu Picchu – the city that the Incas had successfully managed to hide from the Spanish for over 300 years sat just below us on the side of a mountain. Even though it was still far away at that point, I was still stunned by its size and beauty. Again, the pictures fail to do it justice to the point that I almost don’t want to post them… I will, of course, but really just make sure you attach that disclaimer to all of them. This is really one of those things that must be seen with your own eyes.

The clouds began to move back in and hide the city again, so we started down towards it, stopping at another area just above the city where we had a couple more breaks in the clouds. It was almost 7:30 at this point and we were hungry so we stopped and had our snack bags they had given us before leaving and watched the city drift in and out of visibility like an ancient version of Brigadoon.

The final descent to Machu Picchu came around 8am and Carlos took us in to begin our tour with him at 8:30. I have to admit that it was hard to concentrate on everything he told us – partly because I was so tired, but then also because I was so distracted by the city itself.

The clouds had lifted off the city almost completely by then and it was almost impossible to take my eyes off of it. The enormity of this city, let alone the natural fascination with how exactly the Incas managed to build something of this size and complexity in the highlands just baffles the mind.

After our tour, we were left to our own devices until 1:30 when we were to meet Carlos at a restaurant in Machu Picchu town (Aguas Calientes), a short bus ride down from Machu Picchu.

We wandered around a bit, saw strange little animal living in some rocks that I think may have been a chinchilla, but I’m not sure – looked like a cross between a rabbit and a squirrel. Then we met at the restaurant for lunch and finally caught our train back to Ollantaytambo at 4:20 where a bus was waiting to take us back to Cuzco.

After taking proper showers and putting on clean clothes (both novelties for us), we met in the lobby at 9pm and headed out to a final dinner together at a restaurant called “Fallen Angel” – kind of a funky little place with seriously good steak.

So in summary, we walked from KM 82 to Machu Picchu which was roughly 44 KM (or about 27 miles), over 3 passes – the highest one at 4,200 meters (13,780 feet), reaching Machu Picchu in 4 days. Without a doubt one of the most thrilling things I’ve ever done – and I think most (if not all) of the group would say the same.

Many of our group have flights out Monday morning with a few others leaving on Tuesday. Nancy, myself, and 3 others from our group are joining 3 people from a different group and heading to the Amazon on Tuesday (my “official” birthday) for the second leg of our trip which I’m really looking forward to now. As for Monday, I think the day will be spent rather lazily with a massage to hopefully be worked in somewhere as I honestly have never been more sore in my life – but in a good way!

Next installment hopefully from the Amazon so stay tuned!

So yesterday, as predicted, we were up early…like crack of freaking dawn early. I think the wake-up call was for 5am and I’m pretty sure I was up before that call came through not having slept terribly well. Nancy and I both had a hard time going to sleep which we think was due to the coca tea we had at dinner which apparently helps with acclimation, but is also a stimulant which should certainly be taken into consideration if one is planning to drink it right before one intends on turning in. So that’ll learn us, I suppose.

The ride to the Juliaca airport was quite an interesting one…or perhaps “hair-raising” would be a better descriptor. It was about a 45 minute drive from Puno through crowded city streets, narrowly missing children and dogs alike, and passing slower moving vehicles with barely time to avoid a head-on collision. We were doing about 80 km/hour the whole way (I could see the speedometer) which I’m not exactly sure how fast that is in mph, but figure it’s probably just as well.

Juliaca airport was probably one of the smaller airports I’ve ever been to having only 2 gates, but it was relatively efficient and I think our total flight time back to Cuzco was only about 30 minutes. We grabbed a cab and were back to the Prisma Hotel before noon, I think. We then proceeded to take naps, but I was back up about an hour and half later and snuck out of the room to see about making a quick phone call to check on my grandfather as well as do a quick email scan for anything of importance.

While I was sitting at the computer in the lobby, a group of people came piling in and then proceeded to take seats together at a long table just behind me. I knew that the group that Nancy and I were supposed to meet up with should have been flying in around noon or so and so I was wondering if this was, in fact, them. Turned out it was… So I joined them at the table and listened to our guide, Carlos, give a brief overview of what the next few days were going to look like followed by some quick instructions on how to help yourself acclimatize. Nancy wandered down and joined us as well (having been awoken from her nap when the front desk called to inform her that they had all arrived – the little dears).

After the little meeting, it was hard to tell what (if anything) the rest of the group was up for doing since everyone pretty much retreated to their rooms. Nancy and I took up our duffel bags upstairs and worked on packing them a bit (we were all given specific duffel bags that we were to pack for the Inca Trail and told to keep it within a certain weight limit), then we decided to head out and try and take in some of the cathedral tours in Cuzco which we hadn’t yet felt like doing.

Don’t hate me, but here’s where my memory gets fuzzy and I really need to go back and pull out my ticket stubs because I can’t for the life of me remember which cathedral we toured first… The second one I remember more because it was a church that was built over Inca ruins, but even there the name escapes me… In any case, the first cathedral was really magnificent. Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures because we weren’t permitted to take any indoors, but I was quite impressed with the alter work, paintings, etc. – really brilliant it was, and very different from what I’ve seen in other cathedrals in the US or Europe. On that tour, we ended up with one of the girls that’s a part of our group for The Trail (named Eve), so afterwards we went onto the second cathedral (the one built on Inca ruins) and then back to the hotel for a quick rest before heading out to dinner.

Dinner was probably the most fun dining experience we’ve had yet. Eve came with us as well as another member of our group (Marissa) and we hit a restaurant that was recommended to us by the front desk of the hotel which they said had good food and local music. I can’t so much speak for the food since I didn’t eat (Eve had a guinea pig which I have to admit that I tasted…yes, I know, having had a guinea pig for a pet when I was young, I really struggled with that decision, but felt that in the interest of all things local, I should try it). Anyhow the music was great – two local bands played Peruvian music (which is often very reminiscent of Simon & Garfunkel which, we were informed, Peruvian music is where Simon & Garfunkel got some of their inspiration) and they even had dancers come out some of the time including two men dressed as wolf-like demons or something who proceeded to pay special attention to our table (4 gorgeous women, who can blame them?).

This morning was one of moderate excitement (at least for me) since it was the day we were finally checking out of the hotel and leaving Cuzco, gearing up for The Trail.

Carlos came for us at 9am with a van and we all piled in and proceeded to drive out to The Sacred Valley of the Incas. What an amazing drive…seriously unbelievable. We saw some ruins and got a good walking tour of them, stopped in Pisac for lunch and market shopping, and then finished up the day checking into our hotel here in Ollantaytambo (meaning “resting place of Ollan”) where we also visited the ruins here and then walked around a bit before having dinner (about 8 of us had dinner together at a little local place not far from the hotel). This valley is just unreal… And I don’t mean to downplay the ruins at all, but frankly the stunning scenery really sort of overshadowed everything else for me. The mountains are amazingly dramatic – I can’t even really liken them to anything… Alaskan mountains are stunning, of course, and not that the Peruvian Andes are MORE stunning, but they’re just stunning in a completely different way. I’ve just never seen anything like them.

Before arriving at the hotel, we stopped at a little bar along the way and got to try one of the local specialties – a type of beer made from corn. Wasn’t my favorite thing, but I’m glad it works for them. There was also a room full of guinea pigs – raised to be eaten, of course, but that was still something to see.

Tonight’s dinner was also a treat because we got to know some more members of the group better and really had a good time. I was also relieved to find out that they all seem to be just as nervous about the Inca Trail as I am, apparently having also read all kinds of dreadful things about how hard it is, etc. especially after some of the hiking around ruins we did today (did I mention that one guidebook actually called Day 2 “grueling”?!). The hiking today was a good warm-up, I’m sure – and one thing that was actually good to find for myself was that, though I got out of breath relatively fast in the altitude, as soon as we stopped to rest, I recovered very quickly. Hopefully that will continue to be true of me through the next four days!

Okay, I think that’s really it for now… I’m kinda tired and we’re up and out at 8am tomorrow heading for the trailhead. We’re all excited, I think, and I want to make sure that my excitement doesn’t keep me awake too late tonight.

I won’t be able to post another update until at least Sunday which is when we reach Machu Picchu so just know that for the next few days, I’ll be on The Inca Trail.

Wish me luck!

I also updated my previous blog with pictures so you might want to check it out – there´s only a couple of them, but they´re still worth looking at.

First things first, just to give you all an update, I heard from my mom that my grandfather is not doing well… Apparently he had a heart attack on Friday night and it´s looking like he could only continue to be with us a matter of days or even hours. Please continue to keep my family in your prayers…and I´m very sad to not be there as well.

Onto happier topics! Doing pretty well with altitude adjustment…I haven´t even had so much as a headache. I have noticed that I do get winded a lot more quickly than would be normal, and I also sometimes have trouble saying as much in one breath as I typically would (maybe some of you think that´s not such a bad thing…?). It´s also difficult to get a good, deep breath in when on the street as there seems to be a lot more exhaust in the air than I would have thought – I wonder if that´s just a feature of the thin air, or if they maybe drive more diesel fueled cars here…? Nancy´s been having a bit of a tougher time, but she´s also fighting a cold which I´m sure doesn´t help. I left her in the hotel room sleeping this morning – figured she could probably really use it…but it was such a beautiful sunny morning I couldn´t stand the thought of not going out, even for a short walk.

Last night we had dinner at a place called the Inka Grill right on the Plaza de Armas which is more-or-less the center of town. It´s an open square with a gorgeous fountain in the middle surrounded by cathedrals and little shops and restaurants. It´s really perfect. It was really beautiful when we got there last night. The weather was crisp and cool and everything was lit up like it was on display.

Our dinner was good, but the place was an obvious location for tourists – the fact that the menus were in English was a pretty good tip-off. But the atmosphere was great, and we even had some live music for awhile – a guy playing one of those Pan flutes (I can´t remember what they´re called). Anyway, Nancy got some sort of ravioli stuffed with sweet potatoes (who would´ve thought?) and I had some form of risotto with artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and sundried tomatoes. It was pretty good, but the rice really wasn´t risotto-y, but more Uncle Ben´s Converted Rice-y (as in not sticky and more rice-like than risotto-like).

We turned in early (relatively speaking). Even though we´d had that great nap in the afternoon, we were really pretty exhausted… Probably an affect of the altitude. From what we hear, the 3rd day in altitude is supposed to be the worst. We´re about to enter into our second full day, so I´ll continue to let you know how it goes. For now my time on the Internet here is about to run out and I want to upload some pics before I sign off.

Later all.

I also updated my previous blog with pictures so you might want to check it out – there´s only a couple of them, but they´re still worth looking at.

First things first, just to give you all an update, I heard from my mom that my grandfather is not doing well… Apparently he had a heart attack on Friday night and it´s looking like he could only continue to be with us a matter of days or even hours. Please continue to keep my family in your prayers…and I´m very sad to not be there as well.

Onto happier topics! Doing pretty well with altitude adjustment…I haven´t even had so much as a headache. I have noticed that I do get winded a lot more quickly than would be normal, and I also sometimes have trouble saying as much in one breath as I typically would (maybe some of you think that´s not such a bad thing…?). It´s also difficult to get a good, deep breath in when on the street as there seems to be a lot more exhaust in the air than I would have thought – I wonder if that´s just a feature of the thin air, or if they maybe drive more diesel fueled cars here…? Nancy´s been having a bit of a tougher time, but she´s also fighting a cold which I´m sure doesn´t help. I left her in the hotel room sleeping this morning – figured she could probably really use it…but it was such a beautiful sunny morning I couldn´t stand the thought of not going out, even for a short walk.

Last night we had dinner at a place called the Inka Grill right on the Plaza de Armas which is more-or-less the center of town. It´s an open square with a gorgeous fountain in the middle surrounded by cathedrals and little shops and restaurants. It´s really perfect. It was really beautiful when we got there last night. The weather was crisp and cool and everything was lit up like it was on display.

Our dinner was good, but the place was an obvious location for tourists – the fact that the menus were in English was a pretty good tip-off. But the atmosphere was great, and we even had some live music for awhile – a guy playing one of those Pan flutes (I can´t remember what they´re called). Anyway, Nancy got some sort of ravioli stuffed with sweet potatoes (who would´ve thought?) and I had some form of risotto with artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and sundried tomatoes. It was pretty good, but the rice really wasn´t risotto-y, but more Uncle Ben´s Converted Rice-y (as in not sticky and more rice-like than risotto-like).

We turned in early (relatively speaking). Even though we´d had that great nap in the afternoon, we were really pretty exhausted… Probably an affect of the altitude. From what we hear, the 3rd day in altitude is supposed to be the worst. We´re about to enter into our second full day, so I´ll continue to let you know how it goes. For now my time on the Internet here is about to run out and I want to upload some pics before I sign off.

Later all.

Before I get into the events and other thoughts, I want to say Happy Birthday to Esther, so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ES!!! I´d call, but I don´t think my oxygen and sleep-deprived mind can totally wrap itself around how to use the phone here quite yet. It´s all I can do to type on this funky keyboard with all the superfluous characters that the Spanish language requires.

Okay, so onto the play-by-play…

My flight from EWR was fine except for being one of the most turbulent flights I´ve ever been on. Seriously. And for most of the flight as well… But, I kept thinking, at least I´m in first class (having used miles to upgrade), so if we crash in the Andes, I´ll go down with lots of leg room and a good meal.

A guy named Brian was my neighbor on the trip and also was heading out to Cuzco with a bunch of his friends and then doing the Machu Picchu thing starting Wednesday, a day before us. Lucky guy having gotten into first class because his buddy he was traveling with got a free upgrade for a friend. They´re doing the trip with 4 other suckers who were all stuck back in coach, poor things.

Anyway, once the plane was on the ground, I collected my bag and proceeded to wait for Nancy’s flight to arrive and for her to make her way through the maze of glass hallways and escalators that is the Lima airport – honestly, coming down to immigration from the gate made me feel like some sort of lab rat with all these people watching us from the other side of various glass walls.

The baggage claim area was fairly large, but difficult to get lost in so I had no doubt I´d be able to find Nancy easily enough.

While waiting, I was highly entertained by how many Peruvian men were walking around with their shirts 3/4 of the way unbuttoned showing off their thick rugs and gold chains; as well as watching these girls who were representatives of the FreeCell kiosk at the end of the baggage claim area. You might ask how I knew that they were FreeCell reps – well, it was really no secret. They were dressed in bright yellow spandex outfits with FREE CELL written in large letters going up the sides of their arms and legs. The outfits were otherwise covered with flags from just about every country imaginable making them look more like a walking poster children for the United Nations. The shirts also had emblems of all the major credit cards out there that apparently they accept (however it was unclear to me as to whether they personally accepted those cards for heaven knows what purpose, or if just their company did). Their job, as it appeared to me, was to be more-or-less cell phone pimps. They would assault people who were coming through immigration with offers and promises of free incoming calls and ease of in-country calling. They were not at all unlike the women at the perfume counters at Bloomingdales. A little annoying, but certainly entertaining.

Finally I saw that FP´s flight had landed and her bag was quick to emerge from on the beltway. She followed (through the door, not the beltway) a few minutes later. We figured out the taxi situation and then left the baggage claim area passing through a narrow roped-off corridor that was surrounded by a crowd of people at least 3 or 4 deep. I´ve never felt so much like a celebrity! It was really kind of cool… Very movie-premier-ish.

Our Lima hotel (Colonial Inn) was situated right next to a Pappa John´s Pizzeria (I wonder of Pappa John even knows that he has a store open in Lima…I wouldn´t imagine he gets out here much). The room was a really good size with 3 beds, a bright blue tiled bathroom, and a fan that sounded somewhat like it might leap off the wall at any moment and slice us to shreds while we slept…and yes, we HAD to keep it on – it was really hot and humid out and there was no air conditioning.

This morning our taxi driver from the night before (Jesus) came back ´round at 8 to run us back to the airport for our flight to Cuzco which we almost couldn´t get on (some mix-up with the tickets not being e-tickets, but paper and of course we didn´t have the paper tickets and so they wouldn´t give us our boarding passes. Took some time, but we sorted it out and still managed to make the flight).

We touched down in Cuzco at noon and got a quick ride to the hotel. Cuzco, from what I´ve seen so far, is not what I was expecting. I think I had imagined it smaller,for some reason. Rather it´s something of a sprawling town with houses and buildings that creep up the mountains surrounding them. It´s a very interesting look and atmosphere and I can´t quite think of what I would liken it to, but give me time and I´ll come up with something… I´ll also post some pictures to this blog a little later, but I haven´t really taken any yet – but be sure to re-check this post later for pics.

The hotel here (Prisma Hotel) is great – open and airy. Our room is smaller, but it has a balcony that looks out over the city and is just beautiful. The one major downside (or blessing, depending on how you look at it) is that the hotel doesn´t have an elevator and we´re on the 4th floor. And remember, the air is thin here at over 10,000 feet, so it´s a bit of a task to climb up those stairs!

Now, before you ask, yes – I can definitely tell that the air is thinner. It was an immediate change in my breathing when I stepped off the plane and almost felt a little lightheaded. FP noticed it as well (which I was glad of because at first I wondered if it was just in my head). It´s a little better now, but after climbing up 4 flights of stairs, I was huffing waaay more than I would normally be.

As for the altitude sickness, well, it´s not something that tends to hit right away – my understanding is that it takes at least 3 hours or so to really set in (if it´s going to at all), and then apparently the 3rd day in high altitude is known to be the worst. So we´ll see, I´ll keep you all posted.

Right now I´ve got to get back to the room and take a nap. I´m completely exhausted…and sleeping is also supposed to help with acclimation.

More to come!

So I leave tomorrow! I’m so excited that I’m almost literally beside myself (which I wish I was because I could really use an extra set of hands). This trip has been a long time coming. Yes, I booked this adventure in August of last year, but I’ve actually been waiting not just the 7 months since booking. This trip was one that I was originally supposed to take in March of 2004, but unfortunately had to postpone due to an unexpected (and unwelcome) stay at Lenox Hill Hospital. But now it’s finally be rescheduled and looks as though it will actually happen – although another hospital incident almost derailed the trip again.

Briefly, because I don’t want to bum everyone out, I found out this morning that my grandfather (the only one I have left) suffered a major stroke and is now in the hospital in Atlanta. My knee-jerk reaction was to not go on the trip, but after careful consideration and a conversation with my grandmother, I decided that I would still go. My grandfather’s birthday is a week from today, in fact, but hopefully I’ll at least be able to give him early-happy birthday wishes over the phone before I depart, and will prayerfully hope that his speech will have returned to him by the time I get back. In the meantime, I’m going to do my best to enjoy myself and soak everything around me in so I can provide him with a full report.

Anyway, one of the definite perks to having this adventure postponed is that my friend Nancy will be accompanying me. Nancy (who I lovingly refer to as Fancy Pants or FP for short) and I didn’t even know each other in 2004, but met and became buds on my afore-blogged-about Thailand trip. Nancy has one of the most contagious laughs I’ve ever heard and is something of a clown (but not in the frightening Stephen King sense of the word). Oh yeah, this is going to be fun.

However fun as this may be, I must admit that there are a couple of things I’m mildly concerned about so I’ll mention them now so you’ll all be aware as I’m sure I’ll bring them up later: 1) Altitude sickness and B) the Inca trail.

1) Altitude sickness. This is one of those things that is something of a mystery to me. I mean, I know what it is and why it happens having read multiple books on Everest and other mountain climbing expeditions, but there seems to be no sense in why some people will get completely bowled over by it, and others seem to fare just fine. That said, I have no idea where I will fall in that spectrum and I’m just a tad nervous about finding out. For example, I know people who get headaches and other mild symptoms in places like Denver (elevation 5,431 feet) and others that have no issues at all, even in places like Aspen (elevation around 8,000 feet). Now, if those places can be used as any kind of gauge, then I can at least say that I have had not even a hint of a “Rocky Mountain High” in either Denver or Aspen, but Cuzco sits at 10,912 feet which is hardly the dreaded Death Zone, but still a pretty drastic change from sea level in a short period of time. From everything I’ve heard and read, it takes about 3 days to acclimatize and then you’re fine. There are medicines you can get (by prescription only in the US), but they can also carry with them side-effects which I’d rather avoid. So without drugs, worst case scenario: you feel like you have the flu for a few days until your blood begins carrying more oxygen. Best case scenario: you feel a bit light-headed and get out of breath quickly until your acclimatization is complete. I don’t know about you but given the choice, I’d opt for the latter. Since I’m not going the drug-route, my plan is to hydrate myself like crazy and then start chewing coca leaves or drinking tea made from them (a local remedy that’s supposed to help). I also read where sleeping after arrival is recommended as well so perhaps FP and I would be well-served by staying up late the night before. Just a thought…

B) The Inca Trail. While this is without a doubt the highlight of the trip and the reason I wanted to book in the first place, I have to admit that some of the comments made by those who have gone before are a little scary. For example, one of the favorite phrases I’ve heard with regards to the trail has been: “It’s by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Well, who wouldn’t be a little freaked out by a strong, 30-something, buff guy making a statement like that? But of course there are others who then brag how their 70-year-old aunt did it. The dichotomy of these two statements leads me to believe that the strong, 30-something, buff guy either isn’t as strong and buff as he seems or that the 70-year-old aunt is a retired superhero able to leap tall mountains in a single bound…or perhaps the truth lies somewhere inbetween. I’m sure the trail isn’t exactly a cake walk, but it probably also is not a task being assigned on Mission Impossible either. Of course I won’t know until I get there, but what I can promise all of you, dear readers, is that I will be frank and honest in my assessment of the difficulty of the trail…keeping in mind that I’ll be making this trek only 4 months after breaking my foot. I will also be sure to include any comments from Nance (FP) and other members of our group…

As for the moment, the bigger question is: Am I properly packed??

I typically pride myself on being a really good packer. On more than one occasion I’ve had people look at what I’ve brought with me on various trips and say, “Wow, is that really all you brought?” “Why, yes!” I beam back at them, “I am the Queen of Efficent Packing, but please no autographs.” However, this trip is a might different. I found it easier to pack for my last 2-week trip (Thailand) where all I really did was throw a bunch of tank tops and shorts into a bag and off I went. This is more difficult and I feel like I’m packing too much, or not enough of the right stuff… I read back over the dossier from the trip company I’m using (which conveniently includes a packing list) and I just feel like there are a lot of things NOT mentioned on there (such as underwear). To bring enough underwear for 2 weeks is a lot of underwear, is it not? The list also seems to not necessarily be tailored to the specific time of year that a trip is scheduled for and so someone going in August (read: non-rainy season) is being given the same dossier and subsequent packing list as those going in March (read: rainy season). The part of this list that I found almost comical is that the only mention of clothes is as follows (Ah-hem):

• 4 shirts/t-shirts
• 1 pair of shorts
• 2 pairs of long trousers
• 1 pair of hiking pants/track pants
• Thermal underwear

Yeah, right.

To say we should only bring 4 shirts…well, uh, I don’t know about you, but there is NO WAY I’m going to wear the same 4 shirts for 14 days. Nope – not happening. Same goes for basically what boils down to 3 pairs of pants. And then this is also packing for 2 totally different climates – the high Andes and the low Amazon. Cold and hot, dry and humid… I could not possibly pick out 4 shirts, etc. that would work interchagably for both climates. Right now I’m just trying to figure out what I should be planning to sleep in since apparently the temperature in the mountains can drop down below freezing at night in the thin air. I have a good sleeping bag (and liner sheet), but I don’t want to be confined to it after the sun goes down because the 4 shirts and 3 pairs of pants I brought can’t hack it alone. And so I’ve packed more than that which leaves me feeling as though I may have over-packed. Even as I type, I’m acutely aware of my duffle bag scowling at me from the floor as if to say, “Take some of this crap out of me!” Perhaps I should listen to it.

Before I sign off and do a re-evaluation of my duffle’s contents, a quick word about what lies ahead… I had emailed out a high-level itinerary which I will include below (with some additional details). I will be taking my camera and a card-reader along so hopefully will be able to post some photos as we go and not have to do them all retroactively. FP and I have also have rented a camcorder which, I might add, is practically smaller than my camera – so some video will be made and a short-length feature film will be forthcoming upon our return (for those of you who I tied down and forced to watch the movie I made after Thailand – start preparing yourselves for another one!)

Itinerary:

• March 17 – Flight from EWR to Lima, Peru
• March 18-19 – Flight to Cuzco in the morning with the rest of the time spent hangin’ and trying to acclimatize a bit.
• March 20 – Early morning train to Puno (Lake Titicaca) – the highest navigable lake in the world at over 13,000 feet.
• March 21 – Flight back to Cuzco and meeting up with the rest of the group
• March 22 – Travel to Ollantaytambo (by bus I think…or perhaps llama)
• March 23-26 – Hiking/Camping the Inca Trail arriving in Machu Picchu with a return train ride to Cuzco. (note that the 23rd is my grandfather’s birthday)
• March 27 – Day in Cuzco
• March 28-29 – Travel to and stay in the Tambopata Rainforest Area (note that the 28th is my birthday – hence the timing of this trip)
• March 30 – Return to Lima (via Cuzco)
• March 31 – Flight from Lima to EWR (a ever-so-fun redeye flight leaving at midnight and arriving in Newark the morning of April 1st)

And so with less than 24 hours before my departure to the southern hemisphere, all I can say is: ready or not, here I come!

Now of course this is completely different.  It’s 2001.  May.  I’m on a Virgin train, not Amtrak.  And I’m traveling north through England, not west through America.

We’re just passing through Crewe headed towards Manchester – ultimately stopping at Glasgow Central.  It’s about a 6 hour trip from Leamington.

Why am I writing now?  Well, I fell I should document this day so that I don’t forget how fabulous it is!  This is a day where I love England.  Everything is green, even the trees.  Everything is flowering (we passed by a field of yellow blossoms so bright it was as if the sun had taken up residence there).  The sun is shining brightly.  The sky is clear and blue.  And I am not cold!

What I have just described to you is NOT the England I have grown used to this past year.  And it is definitely NOT the England I have been living in.  This England is the day to the black night of the England I know.  I’ve been living in an England of grey clouds and dark skies.  Dismal, dreary, drizzly, dank, and dark.  A far cry from this world of sun and warmth we have the pleasure of today.

And my prayer is that this will perhaps last…at least through tomorrow as I spend my couple of days in Scotland.  I would like to think of Scotland with blue skies since I don’t know that I will much remember England that way.
I also need to remind myself not to forget that England CAN have days of beauty like this.  I don’t want to look back when I leave and forget that the sun sometimes DID shine and the sky sometimes WAS blue.  I don’t want to ever let the clouds and grayness rule my memories or England will forever seem a sad place which it wasn’t always.

——————————–

Now I’m in the hotel…  I’ve spent my time after arriving wandering around central Glasgow.  Very charming!  Of course now I’m settled in bed and just finished watching REM live in Koln (I have no clue where that is – I think maybe Norway or Sweden…I’ll have to look it up.)

But anyway, seeing them live on stage only brought back vivid memories of seeing them live with Jel in Seattle.  What a great time that was!  I don’t know if I could ever top that – I suppose only in that I could actually meet them.  Otherwise Seattle was about as good as it gets.

You know, with each passing day as I sort of stand still and look back on my life this far, I really could cry for joy.  It has been even better than I ever could have hoped for – I have so many wonderful memories and I’m only 27 years old!  There’s so much more to come!!  I think it’s only recently that I’ve really been able to look at my life and say “Thank you, Lord!”  God has really given me so much and has fulfilled so many of my silent dreams & desires.  It’s so much easier to focus on what I DON’T have that I sometimes forget to look at what I DO have.

Thank you Lord for blessing me in more ways that I never would have even dreamed.