I'll admit I had to read my last post to figure out where we were the last time I wrote. With the last post from Bhutan, I have a lot of catching up to do. No excuses for the long lapse other than to say we have been on the road and on the go. Finding reliable internet was not the only challenge to regular posting. Finding the time after driving and hiking all day was by far the biggest barrier. Let me see what I can come up with to represent what we did and saw in New Zealand.
But before I even think about NZ, we spent a few days in Bangkok transitioning from Bhutan, or at least that is what the guide books said might be a nice thing to do. As was hopefully obvious, we really enjoyed Bhutan and felt little need to transition away from it back to the larger world.
And Bangkok is the larger world though we were better prepared for it on the return trip than when we arrived from Europe. Despite our previous visit, we weren't sure what was awaiting us as we flew in because of the massive flooding that affected all of Thailand and subsequently southeast Asia. Water is something the Thai people seem to understand because to our eyes the city seemed to be just as energetic as before the flooding. Sure, there were cars parked in long lines on every elevated road, but business appeared as usual to us. After just two days, we were on our way to New Zealand. Overall, our time in Thailand was very short, too short to say anything about Thai culture other than we met some wonderful people despite the overbearing tuk-tuk drivers.
Some fourteen hours after leaving Bangkok, we arrived in rainy and chilly Auckland. We thought we were headed back to summer but New Zealand offered us just about everything but summer. All I am going to write about New Zealand is as an impressionist might paint a scene because my memories are already sorting into pictures and feelings more than actual facts. We rented a Jucy campervan. With its distinctive green and purple markings it was very easy to see us and fellow Jucy renters on the road. A definite camaraderie developed among Jucy drivers identified by the way we would all flash our lights and wave when we passed each other on the road. While hardly spacious, the kids slept in a pop-up on top while Lucy and I got the inside compartment. With a little gas stove and some plates and utensils, we had most meals out of the back of the van or in the kitchens of the camp grounds we frequented.
We were new to campervanning. Just like arriving in a city is confusing for a few days, so it was with the campervan scene. There is a whole infrastructure built for campervanning with nuances learned only with time and practice. I found myself eying other campervans, checking out the set up of each one in an effort to improve our ride. As we became more practiced, we figured it all out allowing us to access the Department of Conservation free or nearly free campgrounds in the most out of the way locations along beaches or in the mountains. With such beautiful backdrops every night, we mused about the future of such a lifestyle.
Any reconnaissance of New Zealand, whether by guide book, internet, or on the ground will quickly demonstrate an immense variety of landscape and adventure potential. The North and South Islands have between them lakes and rivers, volcanoes and hot springs, mountains and glaciers, rain forests and fiords, and kilometers of beaches many of which are empty of people or nearly so but rich in tide pools and seals and sea lions with dolphins surfing the breaking wave faces. Imagine Colorado with a long coastline but throw in a bit of Yellowstone and the glacier cut peaks of the northern Rockies, with the grasslands of the high prairie and that begins to capture all of the natural wonder we enjoyed.
Our basic goal was to travel from Auckland to Invercargill and back again. Auckland is in the northern part of the North Island and Invercargill is the southern most city of the South Island. It was ambitious and maybe too much but we were glad to have toured through the places we did and still be able to spend several days with our friends Neil and Nory in Invercargill. Because we were in a different place almost every night, I will avoid the list of nightly campgrounds but instead try to describe some of the places we really loved along the way.
1. Mountain biking in Rotorua: New Zealand works its forests hard in that many of the forests we saw were actively managed by the timber industry. On the outskirts of one such forest, the local community has carved out awesome single track that curves and climbs, dips and rolls through recovering forest. Aidan and I rode for about two hours, which seemed just about right for our hiking trained legs.
2. Tongariro National Park and Craters of the Moon: the southern part of the North Island is formed by several large volcanoes and their outflow, some of which were featured in The Lord of the Rings. On the drive to the park we partly circled Lake Taupo, a volcanic crater forming the largest lake on the North Island created by the most violent volcanic explosion in the last several thousand years. Hiking through the grass covered open country of Tongariro NP over what was once lava flow gave us all yet another appreciation of the destructive/creative cycle of volcanoes. At Craters of the Moon, we walked the board walk around mud pots and steaming craters, listening to the earth hiss and bubble, reminding us that the place hasn't cooled off yet.
3. The Marlborough Sounds: welcome to the South Island! We ferried from Wellington to Picton and drove the Jucy to a beach side campground along one of the fingers of the Marlborough Sounds. There is far more to see and do here than sip sauvignon blanc wine. We spent an afternoon walking along the Queen Charlotte track high above fiord-like waterways. Though we arrived before the summer warmth settled in, we also arrived before the summer crowds. We thought it easier to deal with chill weather than crowds so we considered ourselves lucky.
4. Totaranui Beach and the Abel Tasman track: We drove some 70km away from the town of Nelson with its upscale feel to this isolated beach on the Golden Bay. Our timing again was perfect as we found the 850 person capacity campground with just a dozen or so folks leaving the several kilometer long beach for us to explore almost completely alone. The bonus here was access to the beautiful Abel Tasman track, which makes its way in a north/south direction along the coast. The hike that motivated the kids was the 15km round trip coursing over several deserted beaches to Separation Point where we could sit and watch a small seal colony play among the rocks in the surging surf. And while Auckland was rainy and chilly, we walked under horizon wide blue skies.
5. Thanksgiving with the Osorios and Kellers: we joined our friends for a belated Thanksgiving dinner. It was wonderful to share the American tradition with our friends, and gave our kids a sense that the world is not such a big place.
6. Mt. Cook National Park: though bad for Christchurch, the Southern Alps are the spectacular result of the Australasia and Pacific plates slowly grinding away at each other. The mountains rear up into some antarctically driven wet and windy weather guaranteeing enough snow to support glaciation. Again, the weather gods looked upon us favorably and changed the foggy, nearly snowing weather of our arrival in the park to a blue bird day the next day so we could enjoy the majesty of those peaks from the Hooker Valley Trail and Tasman Glacier. The park offers another special treat in the Edmund Hillary Alpine Center where we could listen to a recording of Hillary describing his ascent of Mt. Everest.
7. The Otago Penisula: that sheep should have the views they have from the pastures on this highland jutting into the Pacific Ocean above the city of Dunedin is something to be envied. We hiked through steep sheep pastures looking over beaches harboring the rare Yellow-eyed penguin, found only along the southeast coast of the South Island. The Pacific Ocean stretched before us unobstructed until Easter Island, thousands of miles to the east with still some 2000 miles yet to the coast of Chile. That is a lot of empty ocean!
8. The Catlins: our friends Neil and Nory invited us to stay with them in Invercargill, often described as the armpit of New Zealand. It lies at 46 degrees south latitude, in a stretch of the world known as the Roaring Forties for the relentless wind that circles the globe. The Catlins is a stretch of coastline occupied by sheep stations and is mostly un- or minimally inhabited. Nothing but high grass covered dunes and headlands, breaking waves and sand, penguins and sea lions, and the wind. If that is living in an armpit, we were happy to immerse in it. We surfed at Curio beach, as Hector's Dolphins, the smallest of the dolphins, played around us and showed us how to really play in the surf.
9. Invercargill: despite its rep as an armpit, a lovely town made even more comfortable by our friends.
10. Clifden Cave: imagine a limestone cave a few steps off of the road with a sign that shows the route through and then a mild warning of something like "if you go, it is your own decision and your own risk...". Only in the land that invented bungy jumping. We spent about forty minutes wandering through this small cave. The kids could not believe we had the place completely to ourselves. Oh, and did I mention there was nobody collecting an entrance fee?
11. The road to Milford Sound: if you ever Google Milford Sound, undoubtedly a picture of Mitre Peak towering some 1750 meters above the surface of the water will be prominent. Formed by glaciers, everything about Milford Sound fiord is drop-dead beautiful, except for the persistent sand fly. The fly is so obnoxious the Maori (indigenous people) have a legend about the creation of the fly that says one of their gods created it to remind man of his mortality lest the beauty of Milford Sound cause him to forget. The road to Milford Sound was just as beautiful as it cut through glacier cut valleys curtained by waterfalls affording several jumping off places for hikes to glacier fed lakes like the beautiful Lake Marion.
12. Queenstown: as the birth home of bungy jumping and the location of Middle Earth in The Lord of the Rings, Queenstown is the adrenaline capital of New Zealand and a definite tourist destination. Set on a long lake backed up by the Remarkable Mountains, it is easy to see why so many outdoor and aerobic junkies flock here. We had but a day as we passed through, but it was made far more memorable by our stay with our friends Chip and Lindsay.
13. Wanaka: Some twenty years ago, I bicycle toured around the South Island. While this trip proved that I have few accurate memories from that trip, I clearly remember riding into Wanaka, at the gate to Mt. Aspiring National Park, and thinking it to be a town I could happily retire to. Though a bit bigger and more upscale than when I was last there, the lake and mountains remain unchanged leaving me with that same feeling as we drove into town this time.
14. Gillespies Beach: we drove a long way to get to this free beach on the west coast, recommended by Chip and Lindsay. As we drove in, with the clouds hanging low on the Southern Alps, we laughed at the Mt. Cook View Hotel, guessing they had a picture of the view in their lobby. The ever present sand fly greeted us as we pulled into the little parking lot. We parked next to a van with a Canadian flag on the side window and I made a joke with the occupants asking them if they were really Americans posing as Canadians. We enjoyed Garreth and Shauna's company and stories of their year-long stay in NZ. And yes, they really were Canadian. But the biggest surprise, which crept up on us like all surprises do, was the lifting of the clouds freeing Mt. Cook and all of its neighbors to look down upon us with an air of grandeur more regal than any monarchy. We watched the sun set across those mountains, with the pounding surf at our backs, and considered ourselves once again extremely lucky.
Now that I have written all of this, I think about all the places I didn't mention. There are many of them. But I can't give all the magic away or nobody reading this would ever need to go. There is plenty of adventure and beauty in New Zealand I didn't describe so you can still find it for yourselves.
We made it back to Auckland but it was cold and rainy so it was easy to pack up for another fourteen hour flight to Chile and Patagonia.
Happy Holidays and great adventures in the New Year to all!
Paul
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Bhutan touring
With just two days left here in Bhutan, we all are a bit sad that our time has passed so quickly. I could blame it on the amount of interesting work for me in the Casualty Department, or that Lucy had a short but very productive collaboration with the physician providing care to folks with HIV and AIDS, or that we have befriended several Bhutanese and western folks with whom we hope to remain connected. All of those reasons make us want to stay longer. But just as big a contributor to our sadness is that this country is incredibly beautiful. In two different trips we traveled to central Bhutan and just like we experienced in the western part of the country, every turn in the road (and there were literally millions of them) revealed a view that bettered the previous one.
Traveling in Bhutan is not for those inclined to car sickness. We found that out early on as Charlie is just that way. The National Highway, the single road that traverses the country from Thimphu to the eastern part of the country is about one and a half lanes wide in the good parts and more like a dirt path in the challenged parts. I say challenged because the terrain over which the road traverses is steep and cut by thousands of streams and cascades, and forested thickly. The road has sloughed off down the mountainside in several places necessitating large scale reconstruction. Where the road still clings to the hillside, landslides brought on during the rainy season brought the mountain down on the road. As a result, average speed for any significant distance is about 20 mph. At such a leisurely pace, the views come slowly and linger. And that is what makes the drive so wonderful.
On our way to central Bhutan we crossed three different passes all of which offered views to the high Himalayas to the north and west. We spent our first night in a farmhouse in the Phobjikha Valley. The Phobjikha Valley is an important wintering spot for the endangered black-necked crane. The cranes spend the summer months in Tibet but come to the lower elevation (9500 feet) of the Phobjikha Valley for the winter. The valley is wide and sparsely populated. Just like the cranes, most of the people who live there migrate south each winter. For hundreds of years, the locals have gathered up their possessions and animals and walked south to warmer climes, returning again in the spring. As we entered the valley, yaks grazed in the tall grasses, kids clothed in traditional dress walked home from school, and the clouds of impending winter hung low on the ridge tops. Our farmhouse afforded us a view of all this.
The farmhouse hosts were especially kind. They cooked us Bhutanese food, which we ate in traditional Bhutanese manner on the floor gathered around the central wood stove. The wood stove is key because Bhutanese houses are not insulated, nor is there weather-stripping around any of the windows or doors. In other words, it was a bit chilly and drafty that evening. Despite the chill, we slept well under thick comforters. In the morning we were presented with suja (butter tea) and other typical foods. After breakfast, we toured the valley by car and foot but were deprived of black-necked crane sightings because they had not arrived in the valley yet. The crane is revered by the locals and is the center piece of a festival held in their honor each year but we were just a bit too early.
From the Phobjikha Valley we continued east following river gorges so deep we couldn't see the bottom. Through Trongsa, formerly the capital city, and over the Yatong La (another pass), we arrived in the Bumthang region. With views to the summer palace of the second King and Tharpaling Goemba (a monastery) perched high on the mountainside across the valley from our hotel, we settled into the stillness of Chumey Valley. One of the outstanding and truly beautiful aspects of Bhutan, and especially where we had landed, is the richness of the vast amount of virgin blue pine and mixed hard wood forests. Like the desert of western Colorado, it takes a little bit of time for the mind to understand the serenity of a dense virgin forest but once registered it becomes hard to leave. We made several hikes in the forests always accompanied by an awesome stillness, only broken by the wind or the falling water of a stream. On our last full day there, with a deep blue sky and warm sun, we climbed up to a high ridge to take views of the snow covered Himalayas. Even the kids enjoyed the forests and airy ridge-line. To top it all off, Pema, the manager of our "hotel", treated us like family visiting with us each evening at dinner. The staff showed our kids games with beans that kept them all entertained. It was hard to leave.
But leave we did, making our way all the way back to Thimphu (9 hours) on that curvy, bumpy National Highway. I thought it would be a downer to return to the city after such an incredible journey. But we were all happy to see the lights of Thimphu, especially the brightly lit National Memorial Chorten. The Chorten was built in memory of the third King, who died in his early 40s. It is just down the road from where we live so it is a easily seen landmark from all over the valley. Now we are finishing our time here, visiting with the friends we have made, and taking care of the inevitable last minute details that come from getting to know a place. In two days, we travel to Bangkok, which we hear is barely keeping its head above flood waters. Now that will be a bit of a shock for all of us.
It will take some time for me to organize my thoughts about our time here in Bhutan. On the one hand, I came to volunteer my experience in emergency medicine. On that experience I have mixed feelings. I was definitely not here long enough to make any system wide impact though I did help individual physicians and nurses with important skills and concepts. Unlike the other countries we have visited, Bhutan is a developing country and has the growing pains of that status. The health care system is challenged by lack of sufficient resources and infrastructure that I believe will take many years yet to overcome. On the other hand, the people I worked with are sincere and motivated to improve the system though there are systems issues that in my opinion will be slow to change. On the balance, I would come back again to further assist the process. From a non-medicine view, our time here has been truly wonderful. So, if I add it all up, it was well worth all the effort to be here and we will look longingly out of the airplane windows as we fly away.
Traveling in Bhutan is not for those inclined to car sickness. We found that out early on as Charlie is just that way. The National Highway, the single road that traverses the country from Thimphu to the eastern part of the country is about one and a half lanes wide in the good parts and more like a dirt path in the challenged parts. I say challenged because the terrain over which the road traverses is steep and cut by thousands of streams and cascades, and forested thickly. The road has sloughed off down the mountainside in several places necessitating large scale reconstruction. Where the road still clings to the hillside, landslides brought on during the rainy season brought the mountain down on the road. As a result, average speed for any significant distance is about 20 mph. At such a leisurely pace, the views come slowly and linger. And that is what makes the drive so wonderful.
On our way to central Bhutan we crossed three different passes all of which offered views to the high Himalayas to the north and west. We spent our first night in a farmhouse in the Phobjikha Valley. The Phobjikha Valley is an important wintering spot for the endangered black-necked crane. The cranes spend the summer months in Tibet but come to the lower elevation (9500 feet) of the Phobjikha Valley for the winter. The valley is wide and sparsely populated. Just like the cranes, most of the people who live there migrate south each winter. For hundreds of years, the locals have gathered up their possessions and animals and walked south to warmer climes, returning again in the spring. As we entered the valley, yaks grazed in the tall grasses, kids clothed in traditional dress walked home from school, and the clouds of impending winter hung low on the ridge tops. Our farmhouse afforded us a view of all this.
The farmhouse hosts were especially kind. They cooked us Bhutanese food, which we ate in traditional Bhutanese manner on the floor gathered around the central wood stove. The wood stove is key because Bhutanese houses are not insulated, nor is there weather-stripping around any of the windows or doors. In other words, it was a bit chilly and drafty that evening. Despite the chill, we slept well under thick comforters. In the morning we were presented with suja (butter tea) and other typical foods. After breakfast, we toured the valley by car and foot but were deprived of black-necked crane sightings because they had not arrived in the valley yet. The crane is revered by the locals and is the center piece of a festival held in their honor each year but we were just a bit too early.
From the Phobjikha Valley we continued east following river gorges so deep we couldn't see the bottom. Through Trongsa, formerly the capital city, and over the Yatong La (another pass), we arrived in the Bumthang region. With views to the summer palace of the second King and Tharpaling Goemba (a monastery) perched high on the mountainside across the valley from our hotel, we settled into the stillness of Chumey Valley. One of the outstanding and truly beautiful aspects of Bhutan, and especially where we had landed, is the richness of the vast amount of virgin blue pine and mixed hard wood forests. Like the desert of western Colorado, it takes a little bit of time for the mind to understand the serenity of a dense virgin forest but once registered it becomes hard to leave. We made several hikes in the forests always accompanied by an awesome stillness, only broken by the wind or the falling water of a stream. On our last full day there, with a deep blue sky and warm sun, we climbed up to a high ridge to take views of the snow covered Himalayas. Even the kids enjoyed the forests and airy ridge-line. To top it all off, Pema, the manager of our "hotel", treated us like family visiting with us each evening at dinner. The staff showed our kids games with beans that kept them all entertained. It was hard to leave.
But leave we did, making our way all the way back to Thimphu (9 hours) on that curvy, bumpy National Highway. I thought it would be a downer to return to the city after such an incredible journey. But we were all happy to see the lights of Thimphu, especially the brightly lit National Memorial Chorten. The Chorten was built in memory of the third King, who died in his early 40s. It is just down the road from where we live so it is a easily seen landmark from all over the valley. Now we are finishing our time here, visiting with the friends we have made, and taking care of the inevitable last minute details that come from getting to know a place. In two days, we travel to Bangkok, which we hear is barely keeping its head above flood waters. Now that will be a bit of a shock for all of us.
It will take some time for me to organize my thoughts about our time here in Bhutan. On the one hand, I came to volunteer my experience in emergency medicine. On that experience I have mixed feelings. I was definitely not here long enough to make any system wide impact though I did help individual physicians and nurses with important skills and concepts. Unlike the other countries we have visited, Bhutan is a developing country and has the growing pains of that status. The health care system is challenged by lack of sufficient resources and infrastructure that I believe will take many years yet to overcome. On the other hand, the people I worked with are sincere and motivated to improve the system though there are systems issues that in my opinion will be slow to change. On the balance, I would come back again to further assist the process. From a non-medicine view, our time here has been truly wonderful. So, if I add it all up, it was well worth all the effort to be here and we will look longingly out of the airplane windows as we fly away.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tango, Cheri, Phajoding, Taktshang, and Chelela
Thimphu lies in the Wang Chhu valley, which flows out of the Himalayas to the north near the border with Tibet. The Wang Chhu is a clear river with tempting rapids, reminding me of the Salmon River in Idaho. The hills rise sharply from the river bed providing remote, contemplative places for monasteries. As I am working on weekdays, we have used the weekends to explore the nearby hills.
Buddhism is central to life here in Bhutan and monasteries are central to Buddhist education and development of the practice of meditation. The first two monasteries we visited are just north of Thimphu. Following the Wang Chhu, we made our way up valley driven and escorted by Passang, the ED nurse manager. Tango was built hundreds of years ago and functions as a Buddhist University at roughly 10,000 feet above sea level. The monks in residence were informative and even playful as they dressed Aidan up in red robes. Check out our photos - Aidan dresses up pretty well in red. We hiked down the mountain and then back up another trail to Cheri monastery. Though in an equally stunning location, the feel of Cheri was completely different from Tango. Cheri is a monastery for advanced meditation practices. We saw no one and heard almost nothing. It was incredibly peaceful in its isolation. Though I found it hard to imagine what three years, three months, three weeks, and three days of meditation would be like; I also found it hard to hike back down the mountain toward civilization.
Seeking another monastery experience and on the advice of my friend Rick, the following weekend we hiked to Phajoding. All of these monasteries are high up on the side of mountains and the monks supply their homes by hiking down and then hauling supplies back up. It is quite a work out when the "grocery run" is an 1100 meter climb to 12,000 feet. Our hike was without groceries and despite the "boring" hike through the forest, our kids made it. Phajoding was built some 800 years ago and was formerly a very important and affluent monastery. Over the years it has fallen into disrepair though monks continue to find what they seek in that place. When we arrived, the sounds of wind blowing though the trees and faint chanting spilling out of the buildings greeted us. Farther up the hillside yaks were grazing unconcerned by our presence. In the surrounding fields stood several tents placed by trekking parties for the first night of the Thimphu to Paro trek. Just like Cheri monastery, we saw nobody except for a couple of monks bringing supplies up from the valley. The kids hoped they didn't forget the butter down in town. We lingered to enjoy the long views over Thimphu and the Wang Chhu valley. If I hadn't been told that the monks seek these places to perfect their meditation practice, I would have thought they stay on the mountain just for the views. On the way down, we met Martine and Henri from Nice, France. We had a conversation with them that could have been mistaken as one between old friends who had not seen each other for a long time. They told us of their backpacking trip on the Continental Divide Trail through Colorado and how they hoped to return in two years to complete it. As they were likely fifteen years older than me, we admired their energy and adventure; and hoped to meet them when they returned to Colorado (maybe even on the CDT). After such a fine hike to a beautiful place coupled with meeting Martine and Henri, we made our way back into Thimphu and finished the day with ice cream cones. It could not have been better.
This past weekend, we traveled out of the Wang Chhu valley for the first time. Returning to Paro (where we landed upon arrival to Bhutan), we headed to Taktshang, also known as Tiger's Nest monastery. Bhutanese culture has it that Guru Rinpoche, sometime in the eighth century flew on the back of a tigress to this cliffside location to subdue the evil demons in that area. After completing his task, he remained in a cave to meditate for three months. A monastery was built in that location and is a very holy place for Buddhists. The cave in which Guru Rinpoche meditated is protected as the most important space in the monastery. As with each of the monasteries we have visited, the intricacy of the artwork is stunning, demonstrating a deep devotion to Buddhism. Similar to the other monasteries and despite the larger numbers of tourists at Taktshang, the sense of peace was pervasive.
After Taktshang, we visited the National Museum of Bhutan. It is located above the town of Paro and the Pa Chhu (river). The valley floor is covered with fields of ripening rice, the backdrop the Himalayas: golden rice against snowy peaks. The National Museum holds collections of art representing Bhutanese and Buddhist culture and provided us with answers to some of the questions we had as we watched the masked dances at the Tsechu Festival during our first week in Thimphu. We finished the day at the Gangtey Hotel. Designed like (or maybe even within) a monastery, our room was colorful and comfortable. Sitting on a bench of land above town, we watched twilight overtake the valley with few lights to obscure the view.
On Sunday, our driver delivered us 1600 meters above the Pa Chhu valley to Chelela. Chelela is a pass between the Pa Chhu and Haa Valleys and is accessed by the highest motor road in Bhutan. At 3810 meters, the pass afforded us a lofty start to the ridge above. Our hope was to view Jhomolhari and some of the high Himalayan peaks on the Bhutan/Tibet border. We had a bluebird day walking up the ridge, weaving our way through thousands of prayer flags. As we hiked up, Jhomolhari and the surrounding peaks stood clearly in front of us. To the west on the Nepal/India border stood Kanchenjunga, the third highest mountain in the world. What a place, what a day! The planned hike of thirty minutes turned into a two hour wander and even then was much too short. But that is what we are discovering about our whole experience here in Bhutan - it all seems too short.
We have several more trips planned yet before we leave Bhutan. Stay tuned for the next post.
Cheers,
Paul
Buddhism is central to life here in Bhutan and monasteries are central to Buddhist education and development of the practice of meditation. The first two monasteries we visited are just north of Thimphu. Following the Wang Chhu, we made our way up valley driven and escorted by Passang, the ED nurse manager. Tango was built hundreds of years ago and functions as a Buddhist University at roughly 10,000 feet above sea level. The monks in residence were informative and even playful as they dressed Aidan up in red robes. Check out our photos - Aidan dresses up pretty well in red. We hiked down the mountain and then back up another trail to Cheri monastery. Though in an equally stunning location, the feel of Cheri was completely different from Tango. Cheri is a monastery for advanced meditation practices. We saw no one and heard almost nothing. It was incredibly peaceful in its isolation. Though I found it hard to imagine what three years, three months, three weeks, and three days of meditation would be like; I also found it hard to hike back down the mountain toward civilization.
Seeking another monastery experience and on the advice of my friend Rick, the following weekend we hiked to Phajoding. All of these monasteries are high up on the side of mountains and the monks supply their homes by hiking down and then hauling supplies back up. It is quite a work out when the "grocery run" is an 1100 meter climb to 12,000 feet. Our hike was without groceries and despite the "boring" hike through the forest, our kids made it. Phajoding was built some 800 years ago and was formerly a very important and affluent monastery. Over the years it has fallen into disrepair though monks continue to find what they seek in that place. When we arrived, the sounds of wind blowing though the trees and faint chanting spilling out of the buildings greeted us. Farther up the hillside yaks were grazing unconcerned by our presence. In the surrounding fields stood several tents placed by trekking parties for the first night of the Thimphu to Paro trek. Just like Cheri monastery, we saw nobody except for a couple of monks bringing supplies up from the valley. The kids hoped they didn't forget the butter down in town. We lingered to enjoy the long views over Thimphu and the Wang Chhu valley. If I hadn't been told that the monks seek these places to perfect their meditation practice, I would have thought they stay on the mountain just for the views. On the way down, we met Martine and Henri from Nice, France. We had a conversation with them that could have been mistaken as one between old friends who had not seen each other for a long time. They told us of their backpacking trip on the Continental Divide Trail through Colorado and how they hoped to return in two years to complete it. As they were likely fifteen years older than me, we admired their energy and adventure; and hoped to meet them when they returned to Colorado (maybe even on the CDT). After such a fine hike to a beautiful place coupled with meeting Martine and Henri, we made our way back into Thimphu and finished the day with ice cream cones. It could not have been better.
This past weekend, we traveled out of the Wang Chhu valley for the first time. Returning to Paro (where we landed upon arrival to Bhutan), we headed to Taktshang, also known as Tiger's Nest monastery. Bhutanese culture has it that Guru Rinpoche, sometime in the eighth century flew on the back of a tigress to this cliffside location to subdue the evil demons in that area. After completing his task, he remained in a cave to meditate for three months. A monastery was built in that location and is a very holy place for Buddhists. The cave in which Guru Rinpoche meditated is protected as the most important space in the monastery. As with each of the monasteries we have visited, the intricacy of the artwork is stunning, demonstrating a deep devotion to Buddhism. Similar to the other monasteries and despite the larger numbers of tourists at Taktshang, the sense of peace was pervasive.
After Taktshang, we visited the National Museum of Bhutan. It is located above the town of Paro and the Pa Chhu (river). The valley floor is covered with fields of ripening rice, the backdrop the Himalayas: golden rice against snowy peaks. The National Museum holds collections of art representing Bhutanese and Buddhist culture and provided us with answers to some of the questions we had as we watched the masked dances at the Tsechu Festival during our first week in Thimphu. We finished the day at the Gangtey Hotel. Designed like (or maybe even within) a monastery, our room was colorful and comfortable. Sitting on a bench of land above town, we watched twilight overtake the valley with few lights to obscure the view.
On Sunday, our driver delivered us 1600 meters above the Pa Chhu valley to Chelela. Chelela is a pass between the Pa Chhu and Haa Valleys and is accessed by the highest motor road in Bhutan. At 3810 meters, the pass afforded us a lofty start to the ridge above. Our hope was to view Jhomolhari and some of the high Himalayan peaks on the Bhutan/Tibet border. We had a bluebird day walking up the ridge, weaving our way through thousands of prayer flags. As we hiked up, Jhomolhari and the surrounding peaks stood clearly in front of us. To the west on the Nepal/India border stood Kanchenjunga, the third highest mountain in the world. What a place, what a day! The planned hike of thirty minutes turned into a two hour wander and even then was much too short. But that is what we are discovering about our whole experience here in Bhutan - it all seems too short.
We have several more trips planned yet before we leave Bhutan. Stay tuned for the next post.
Cheers,
Paul
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The King and Queen
Sometimes just being lucky is the best of all possible worlds. Our stay in Bhutan coincides with two very important celebrations. In our last post, I described the annual Tsechu. That was last weekend. This week has been completely filled with the Royal Wedding. Bhutan has a constitutional monarchy government and it is very apparent there is a deep affection for the King. Two days ago, Druk Gyalpo (the dragon king) Jigme Khesar Namgyal Wangchuk married Jetsun Pema making her his Queen. Hard to believe but we were glued to the TV watching the ceremony. Just like the Tsechu, the ceremony was filled with color and symbolism like no wedding ceremony I had ever seen. After the ceremony, the King and his new Queen mingled with the people of Punakha who performed traditional and even not so traditional (hip-hop) dance and music for the royal couple. The King and Queen are young, energetic, and a very handsome couple. Watching how comfortably they mingled with the people demonstrated a deep respect between people and monarchy.
The big fun for us occurred yesterday as all of Thimphu lined the streets in anticipation of the royal couple's visit here. Our kids waited with their school mates and teachers for hours. We caught up with them as day slipped into evening. Suddenly, the crowd became very quiet and a procession passed before us with the King and Queen bringing up the end. They wandered from side to side greeting people. Being tall and obviously not local, Lucy and I caught the eye of the King. He lingered and asked if we were tourists. We told him we were volunteering at the National Hospital in the Casualty Department. He thanked us for being here, chatted a few more words, and then moved along up the street. We were so honored that the King spent a few moments with us and will remember it forever.
Today, there was a big celebration at the stadium in town. All of the school children performed dances. With each of us in traditional clothing (no small effort as it takes at least two people to get dressed), we got our kids to the stadium by 7:15am to find their reserved seating. Unfortunately that was already too late for us as the stadium was completely full. We wandered around to another entrance on the field level and found a spot on a steep hillside. Bhutanese folks ambled up and down the hillside sometimes using us as guardrails. A group of people started a smoldering fire of pine needles in anticipation of the celebrity couple's arrival. Despite the religious significance of the smoke carrying prayers upward to the heavens, there we were guardrails on a steep hill with smoke in our eyes. Suddenly, the Bhutanese (who do not queue in the most orderly way) pushed past a barrier. We saw our chance and followed on the tail of the rush. Once inside on the field, we had better views and feel for the good energy Thimphu residents offered the royal couple. Unbelievably, we ran into a friend of mine from Boulder, Colorado. Rick sits on a foundation board that assists in the restoration of monasteries here in Bhutan. I have had several small world experiences since arriving in Bhutan but maybe this is just the place to be during the week of the Royal Wedding.
We're back in our apartment now, again glued to the TV watching the closing ceremony of this day of celebration. As all the dignitaries circle the field in a dance and sing a somewhat somber but uplifting song, I feel that all is good right now. I hope for such peace everywhere. We wish the King and Queen a long life together filled with happiness.
The big fun for us occurred yesterday as all of Thimphu lined the streets in anticipation of the royal couple's visit here. Our kids waited with their school mates and teachers for hours. We caught up with them as day slipped into evening. Suddenly, the crowd became very quiet and a procession passed before us with the King and Queen bringing up the end. They wandered from side to side greeting people. Being tall and obviously not local, Lucy and I caught the eye of the King. He lingered and asked if we were tourists. We told him we were volunteering at the National Hospital in the Casualty Department. He thanked us for being here, chatted a few more words, and then moved along up the street. We were so honored that the King spent a few moments with us and will remember it forever.
Today, there was a big celebration at the stadium in town. All of the school children performed dances. With each of us in traditional clothing (no small effort as it takes at least two people to get dressed), we got our kids to the stadium by 7:15am to find their reserved seating. Unfortunately that was already too late for us as the stadium was completely full. We wandered around to another entrance on the field level and found a spot on a steep hillside. Bhutanese folks ambled up and down the hillside sometimes using us as guardrails. A group of people started a smoldering fire of pine needles in anticipation of the celebrity couple's arrival. Despite the religious significance of the smoke carrying prayers upward to the heavens, there we were guardrails on a steep hill with smoke in our eyes. Suddenly, the Bhutanese (who do not queue in the most orderly way) pushed past a barrier. We saw our chance and followed on the tail of the rush. Once inside on the field, we had better views and feel for the good energy Thimphu residents offered the royal couple. Unbelievably, we ran into a friend of mine from Boulder, Colorado. Rick sits on a foundation board that assists in the restoration of monasteries here in Bhutan. I have had several small world experiences since arriving in Bhutan but maybe this is just the place to be during the week of the Royal Wedding.
We're back in our apartment now, again glued to the TV watching the closing ceremony of this day of celebration. As all the dignitaries circle the field in a dance and sing a somewhat somber but uplifting song, I feel that all is good right now. I hope for such peace everywhere. We wish the King and Queen a long life together filled with happiness.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Bhutan
Kuzuzangpo la!
My first impression of Bhutan will forever be the clean feel of thin, dry air on my face. The sun glistened as we walked off the plane in Paro. The mountains rose up around us, the ridges were crisp against the deep blue sky. The Pachu River ran clear in a river bed that suggested the possibility of a more intense mood. Could we have somehow traveled further than we thought and were home in western Colorado? It sure felt that way. As we drove from Paro to Thimphu along a very curvy road following first the Pachu and then the Wang Chhu River, each turn revealed yet another beautiful view. I had a very good feeling about this place.
Like any new town, we were initially confused. Dzongkha, the local language, is incomprehensible though I have learned the greeting I began this post with. At least many of the signs were in English so we could find our way around. As we have discovered since Sicily though, each building seems to contain a million different shops. Here the task of dissecting it all was a bit harder because all of the signs are in blue, causing them to blend into one another. With a little persistence it all began to make sense.
We are here as volunteers in the health care system. My task is in the Casualty Department, replacing my colleague, Dr. Will from California. His wife, Dr. Karen, worked as a pediatrician. They and their family introduced us to Thimphu and oriented us to life in this city. From our apartment, we walk all over town accessing places like the weekend vegetable and craft market, various Bhutanese and Indian restaurants, and an incredible several kilometer uphill walk/run to a massive statue of Buddha from where we can see snow covered Himalayan peaks. As I walk to the hospital each day, I look to the rising foothills all about me and pass a temple emanating Buddhist chanting.
Our kids have started school. Each day they don the traditional men's garment of Bhutan called a gho. Their ghos are in the school colors and all the children where them. Lucy has eased herself into traditional woman's attire called a kira, a floor length wrap of material. The kiras are especially attractive as they come in all different colors and are matched with brightly colored jackets. I have my own gho now and look forward to a socially appropriate moment to wear it.
During the first weekend we were here, the annual Tsechu or festival was occurring. We went to the Tashichho Dzong, or fortress, where the traditional dancing and ceremonies were held. While we don't know the stories acted out, it was still exciting to be part of the celebration. Over that same weekend, the head nurse Passang and his wife took us to visit two important Buddhist monasteries north of Thimphu. Tango and Cheri monasteries sit in opposing valleys perched high on the sides of the mountains. Passang explained the significance of the monasteries thus enriching our visit. There are wonderful legends and histories attached to each monastery. Tango functions as a high level monastic college while Cheri is a pinnacle monastery for those monks wishing to practice the discipline of meditation. The peaceful, cloud draped locations and spectacular views of the valley below help me understand why a monk might choose to cloister himself for 3 years, 3 months, and 3 days on his path to becoming a lama.
It's late now and there will be a full day of festivities tomorrow because the King and his new Queen are in Thimphu. We will fill you in on all the fun so check back again soon.
My first impression of Bhutan will forever be the clean feel of thin, dry air on my face. The sun glistened as we walked off the plane in Paro. The mountains rose up around us, the ridges were crisp against the deep blue sky. The Pachu River ran clear in a river bed that suggested the possibility of a more intense mood. Could we have somehow traveled further than we thought and were home in western Colorado? It sure felt that way. As we drove from Paro to Thimphu along a very curvy road following first the Pachu and then the Wang Chhu River, each turn revealed yet another beautiful view. I had a very good feeling about this place.
Like any new town, we were initially confused. Dzongkha, the local language, is incomprehensible though I have learned the greeting I began this post with. At least many of the signs were in English so we could find our way around. As we have discovered since Sicily though, each building seems to contain a million different shops. Here the task of dissecting it all was a bit harder because all of the signs are in blue, causing them to blend into one another. With a little persistence it all began to make sense.
We are here as volunteers in the health care system. My task is in the Casualty Department, replacing my colleague, Dr. Will from California. His wife, Dr. Karen, worked as a pediatrician. They and their family introduced us to Thimphu and oriented us to life in this city. From our apartment, we walk all over town accessing places like the weekend vegetable and craft market, various Bhutanese and Indian restaurants, and an incredible several kilometer uphill walk/run to a massive statue of Buddha from where we can see snow covered Himalayan peaks. As I walk to the hospital each day, I look to the rising foothills all about me and pass a temple emanating Buddhist chanting.
Our kids have started school. Each day they don the traditional men's garment of Bhutan called a gho. Their ghos are in the school colors and all the children where them. Lucy has eased herself into traditional woman's attire called a kira, a floor length wrap of material. The kiras are especially attractive as they come in all different colors and are matched with brightly colored jackets. I have my own gho now and look forward to a socially appropriate moment to wear it.
During the first weekend we were here, the annual Tsechu or festival was occurring. We went to the Tashichho Dzong, or fortress, where the traditional dancing and ceremonies were held. While we don't know the stories acted out, it was still exciting to be part of the celebration. Over that same weekend, the head nurse Passang and his wife took us to visit two important Buddhist monasteries north of Thimphu. Tango and Cheri monasteries sit in opposing valleys perched high on the sides of the mountains. Passang explained the significance of the monasteries thus enriching our visit. There are wonderful legends and histories attached to each monastery. Tango functions as a high level monastic college while Cheri is a pinnacle monastery for those monks wishing to practice the discipline of meditation. The peaceful, cloud draped locations and spectacular views of the valley below help me understand why a monk might choose to cloister himself for 3 years, 3 months, and 3 days on his path to becoming a lama.
It's late now and there will be a full day of festivities tomorrow because the King and his new Queen are in Thimphu. We will fill you in on all the fun so check back again soon.
Thailand
We were pretty bleary eyed when we arrived in the Bangkok. We had flown all night from Helsinki with little sleep. Aidan, who formerly was a rock solid sleeper on overnight flights, complained that the seats in economy class were really uncomfortable. We quickly tamped his observation and discussion about the wider seats in business class.
Bangkok is a jungle with tall buildings forming the canopy layer. Water seemed to be everywhere as the rain continued in one of the heaviest monsoon seasons in recent history. Green and humid, crowded and loud, new and ancient, traditional and modern all at once; my head spun with every turn into a new alley as our cab driver struggled to find our guest house. But once we got our feet on the ground, we began to see through the layers that make up the city. There were several challenges to deal with such as tuk-tuk (three wheeled taxis) drivers trying to lure us in for a ride, the multitude of alleys that defied tracing on a map, and the eternal (happy) choice of where to eat. But in the end, thanks to an amazing night-time bicycle tour we came away with another view of Bangkok: one of temples lit up at night with nary a person around, a cut flower market stretching blocks interspersed with vendors of delicious Thai treats, and quiet backways that could have been out in the country. In our two short days, we saw a side of Bangkok that for me is well worth further exploration.
Our time in Bangkok was short because we wanted to get out of the big city to a quieter place. We flew to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand, located in the foothills of the eastern Himalayas. We found what we were looking for in that Chiang Mai is mellower than the big city to the south. The tuk-tuk drivers were content to let us walk where we wanted, and the surrounding hills were a welcomed view from the broad flatness of Bangkok. We spent our days there touring by bicycle around the south of the city, mountain biking down monsoon slick mud double track, and touring an elephant nature park in the mountains. The elephant nature park was really special. It was developed by one woman who has made a safe and restorative home for damaged elephants. Thailand has a very long relationship with the elephant: it is both revered and used as a work animal. While it is no longer legal to use elephant labor to perform such tasks as haul cut trees out of logged forests, elephants are still used in the tourist business as well as for other un-elephant like tasks as assisting begging in the cities. The Elephant Nature Preserve rehabs elephants and allows folks like us to assist in feeding and bathing, as well as observing these giants. It was especially fun to watch one of the bulls walk out into the monsoon swollen river, allow himself to be rolled over by the current, and pop his trunk out periodically for a breath while remaining otherwise completely submerged. Standing aside them gave me a strong feeling for their intelligence and majesty.
Our time in Thailand was short. It is hard to form an opinion of such a complex place in the time we had there but we experienced Buddhist culture, ate some very tasty food, and visited with some incredibly warm and generous people. With those experiences in hand, I know there is a lot more to enjoy so I look forward to our return visit. But like all the other places we have been so far, it was time to move on to our next stop - Bhutan.
Bangkok is a jungle with tall buildings forming the canopy layer. Water seemed to be everywhere as the rain continued in one of the heaviest monsoon seasons in recent history. Green and humid, crowded and loud, new and ancient, traditional and modern all at once; my head spun with every turn into a new alley as our cab driver struggled to find our guest house. But once we got our feet on the ground, we began to see through the layers that make up the city. There were several challenges to deal with such as tuk-tuk (three wheeled taxis) drivers trying to lure us in for a ride, the multitude of alleys that defied tracing on a map, and the eternal (happy) choice of where to eat. But in the end, thanks to an amazing night-time bicycle tour we came away with another view of Bangkok: one of temples lit up at night with nary a person around, a cut flower market stretching blocks interspersed with vendors of delicious Thai treats, and quiet backways that could have been out in the country. In our two short days, we saw a side of Bangkok that for me is well worth further exploration.
Our time in Bangkok was short because we wanted to get out of the big city to a quieter place. We flew to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand, located in the foothills of the eastern Himalayas. We found what we were looking for in that Chiang Mai is mellower than the big city to the south. The tuk-tuk drivers were content to let us walk where we wanted, and the surrounding hills were a welcomed view from the broad flatness of Bangkok. We spent our days there touring by bicycle around the south of the city, mountain biking down monsoon slick mud double track, and touring an elephant nature park in the mountains. The elephant nature park was really special. It was developed by one woman who has made a safe and restorative home for damaged elephants. Thailand has a very long relationship with the elephant: it is both revered and used as a work animal. While it is no longer legal to use elephant labor to perform such tasks as haul cut trees out of logged forests, elephants are still used in the tourist business as well as for other un-elephant like tasks as assisting begging in the cities. The Elephant Nature Preserve rehabs elephants and allows folks like us to assist in feeding and bathing, as well as observing these giants. It was especially fun to watch one of the bulls walk out into the monsoon swollen river, allow himself to be rolled over by the current, and pop his trunk out periodically for a breath while remaining otherwise completely submerged. Standing aside them gave me a strong feeling for their intelligence and majesty.
Our time in Thailand was short. It is hard to form an opinion of such a complex place in the time we had there but we experienced Buddhist culture, ate some very tasty food, and visited with some incredibly warm and generous people. With those experiences in hand, I know there is a lot more to enjoy so I look forward to our return visit. But like all the other places we have been so far, it was time to move on to our next stop - Bhutan.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
We finally have a link to our photo album!
Hi all,
Please see the side bar for a link to some pictures of our travels so far. We're loving Thimphu and will write more later.
Please see the side bar for a link to some pictures of our travels so far. We're loving Thimphu and will write more later.
Friday, September 23, 2011
The Amalfi Coast and Sicily as seen from Chiang Mai, Thailand
Now, where were we? Last post had us contemplating our journey to Sorrento and then Sicily. For reasons of inconvenient internet availability we have fallen way behind. We left our apartment in Rome like seasoned pros, marching our four selves, five bags and assorted carry-on stuff the three blocks to the train station. We had heard that pick-pockets lurked about the Rome Stazione Centrale but the Circumvesuviana Stazione in Napoli had us most concerned. The guide books painted a gauntlet like path for us to traverse but to our relief, the station was clean and organized, and seemingly pick-pocket free. We made it to Sant' Agnello, next to Sorrento without a hitch.
The sun-soaked Amalfi Coast clings to a plateau of land that looks south and west over the Bay of Napoli. Mt. Vesuvius overshadows the entire coast and set the stage for the points of our interest, beyond our usual interest in the local wine and food. In a.d. 79, Mt. Vesuvius blew its top, burying the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Each has been excavated providing a very clear and intimate view of life in that time. Pompeii is a large site, requiring hours to walk through and begin to understand. Lying within just a few steps of the train station, many tourists find their way there, with organized tour groups hustling from marked site to site. We were a bit less organized but took our time, eating sandwiches of tomatoes and mozzarella in the shade of stone walls, as I suppose the locals did once upon a time. Just prior to mutiny of the children we escaped back to our little village and dinner in Sorrento full of awe for what we had seen.
The next day we were off again but this time to the top of the monster that caused all of the destruction. With bus and foot, we arrived at the rim of the crater that is now the top of Mt. Vesuvius. According to eyewitness description, Mt Vesuvius had a cone summit, and like Mt. St. Helens, blew violently taking the top with it and depositing it mostly on Herculaneum in the form of mud-lava, but sufficiently with ash on Pompeii to snuff out existence. The view from the top is wonderful, stretching along the whole coast and to the islands of Capri and Ischia. We enjoyed the view and cool breeze then reversed ourselves with the goal of touring Herculaneum.
Herculaneum was a smaller village than Pompeii but received worse treatment. Buried under some 60 feet of lava, it was all but forgotten until excavation began in the late 1700s. And while such a burial is ghastly, the village was incredibly well preserved for it. There are even wood door frames still present showing how they were charred by the incredible heat of the lava. And maybe because we arrived late in the afternoon, or maybe because it is eight blocks from the train station, or who knows why but we had the place to ourselves. We wandered through entire houses where frescoes still decorated walls, and beautiful mosaic floors welcomed us. Eery in that some of the structures appeared in better shape than houses dotting the countryside, except nobody had been home for almost 2000 years. Probably because we had such a quiet time to absorb Herculaneum, we were awed by it even more than we had experienced in Pompeii.
With our time on the Amalfi coast running out, we hopped a ferry to the island of Capri for a day of wandering and lying on the beach. Our plan was to hang around Capri for the day and then ferry to Napoli to meet our over-night ferry to Catania, Sicily. Everything went as planned though hanging around Capri turned out to be mostly just hanging around. Long an island with a history of attracting the rich and famous, we found it to be filled of (perhaps) "the rich-and-famous" seeking tourists. Oh well, if we have to hang out somewhere, it could have been far worse. We made our ferry to Napoli and only wandered around the port for a little while trying to figure out where our next ferry left from.
I suppose the calmness of the water has everything to do with how the ferry ride goes, so we were lucky in that regard. But the cabin we stayed in had four comfortable and long enough beds, and a shower. We all felt like we were living big. Dinner and then a walk about the deck, with its night-lit view of Capri and the coast, as we crossed the Bay of Napoli toward Sicily was all we needed to nudge us to a good night's rest.
First impressions mean something. We crossed through the narrow passage between Calabria on the mainland and Sicily and were struck by the imposing massif of the 3300 meter high Mt. Etna, Europe's highest and most active volcano, spewing steam from its summit. It has molded and still dwarfs the villages that cling to the coastline beneath it. Our next first impression was of Catania. In one view, Catania may rank among the ugliest of cities, sprawling broadly across an uptilted volcanic plateau, with obvious disregard for any attempt at city planning. Yet as we entered the old city on a quiet Sunday morning, a different impression formed - one rich in Baroque architecture. The streets are chaotically arranged, becoming even more chaotic with Italian drivers full bore on them, and densely packed. A block changes from apparent ghetto to Baroque cathedral to shop to Roman ruin all within a few steps. There was a lot to take in.
Our apartment lay within a piazza next to the Castel Ursino, formerly a military post on the sea, which became land locked by lava diverted by its own walls into the sea. The lava at once formed new coastline and made the castle somewhat obsolete. The guide books suggested our neighborhood was shady and it certainly appeared that way, in part because of the copious graffiti on the buildings. Yet, we were two blocks away from the most amazing (and largest in Sicily) fish market. Next to that was a beautiful vegetable market several blocks long where we could buy everything we needed. We went everyday and never did have a problem in our neighborhood. Each night, right below our balcony, the piazza turned into an outdoor restaurant with the kindest proprietor. And did I mention the food? Just like the streets, the food was dense but not in a heavy, belly-sinking way. Sicily has a long history of occupation from before the time of the Greeks. Each conquering culture seems to have left its mark on the cuisine. The flavors are complex, the aromas and fragrances enticing.
Lest you think we ate the whole time, we toured a little also. We enjoyed a walking tour of Catania guided by Hal Sharp, our friend Peg's brother. Hal has spent years on an archeological site in Sicily and is well versed in the history and architecture of Catania. We spent a day hiking about the flank of Mt. Etna. At 2000 meters, the Sicilian heat tempered a bit, the breeze blew a bit cooler. I mentioned how large the mountain looked from the sea but once on it I gained an appreciation for how big a mound can become when it is erupting all of the time. We also spent a day in the tourist destination town of Taormina. It sits some 200 meters above the sea and Isola Bella (I love that name). The beach, though rocky is lovely, the water very comfortable, and the gelato delicious. Another day found us in Siracusa, a city that rivaled Athens for importance and power in the days of the Greeks. Ortigia, the old city, lies on an island and is laced with twisting and narrow alley-ways that drew us into their shady depths. And though I never thought I would find it, we entered the oldest church in Europe. The church was built from an old Greek temple of which the original massive columns still support the ceiling. Its construction as a church began while the Romans were still actively persecuting Christians in the early third century.
Our time in Sicily passed and we left much of the island unexplored. But aside from the tours we met Charlie and Rita from Malta and enjoyed a dinner with them. We became familiar with the people in our neighborhood, which turned out to have quite a silver lining to it despite what the guidebooks said. We gained a sense of what Sicily, at least from the point of view of Catania, is like and have put it on the short list of places to which we would already like to return. But leave we did, via Munich and a dinner with dear cousins, Helsinki, and now to Bangkok and Chiang Mai.
Phew! Caught up now a bit, but more to follow of our time in Thailand...
Ciao,
Paul
The sun-soaked Amalfi Coast clings to a plateau of land that looks south and west over the Bay of Napoli. Mt. Vesuvius overshadows the entire coast and set the stage for the points of our interest, beyond our usual interest in the local wine and food. In a.d. 79, Mt. Vesuvius blew its top, burying the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Each has been excavated providing a very clear and intimate view of life in that time. Pompeii is a large site, requiring hours to walk through and begin to understand. Lying within just a few steps of the train station, many tourists find their way there, with organized tour groups hustling from marked site to site. We were a bit less organized but took our time, eating sandwiches of tomatoes and mozzarella in the shade of stone walls, as I suppose the locals did once upon a time. Just prior to mutiny of the children we escaped back to our little village and dinner in Sorrento full of awe for what we had seen.
The next day we were off again but this time to the top of the monster that caused all of the destruction. With bus and foot, we arrived at the rim of the crater that is now the top of Mt. Vesuvius. According to eyewitness description, Mt Vesuvius had a cone summit, and like Mt. St. Helens, blew violently taking the top with it and depositing it mostly on Herculaneum in the form of mud-lava, but sufficiently with ash on Pompeii to snuff out existence. The view from the top is wonderful, stretching along the whole coast and to the islands of Capri and Ischia. We enjoyed the view and cool breeze then reversed ourselves with the goal of touring Herculaneum.
Herculaneum was a smaller village than Pompeii but received worse treatment. Buried under some 60 feet of lava, it was all but forgotten until excavation began in the late 1700s. And while such a burial is ghastly, the village was incredibly well preserved for it. There are even wood door frames still present showing how they were charred by the incredible heat of the lava. And maybe because we arrived late in the afternoon, or maybe because it is eight blocks from the train station, or who knows why but we had the place to ourselves. We wandered through entire houses where frescoes still decorated walls, and beautiful mosaic floors welcomed us. Eery in that some of the structures appeared in better shape than houses dotting the countryside, except nobody had been home for almost 2000 years. Probably because we had such a quiet time to absorb Herculaneum, we were awed by it even more than we had experienced in Pompeii.
With our time on the Amalfi coast running out, we hopped a ferry to the island of Capri for a day of wandering and lying on the beach. Our plan was to hang around Capri for the day and then ferry to Napoli to meet our over-night ferry to Catania, Sicily. Everything went as planned though hanging around Capri turned out to be mostly just hanging around. Long an island with a history of attracting the rich and famous, we found it to be filled of (perhaps) "the rich-and-famous" seeking tourists. Oh well, if we have to hang out somewhere, it could have been far worse. We made our ferry to Napoli and only wandered around the port for a little while trying to figure out where our next ferry left from.
I suppose the calmness of the water has everything to do with how the ferry ride goes, so we were lucky in that regard. But the cabin we stayed in had four comfortable and long enough beds, and a shower. We all felt like we were living big. Dinner and then a walk about the deck, with its night-lit view of Capri and the coast, as we crossed the Bay of Napoli toward Sicily was all we needed to nudge us to a good night's rest.
First impressions mean something. We crossed through the narrow passage between Calabria on the mainland and Sicily and were struck by the imposing massif of the 3300 meter high Mt. Etna, Europe's highest and most active volcano, spewing steam from its summit. It has molded and still dwarfs the villages that cling to the coastline beneath it. Our next first impression was of Catania. In one view, Catania may rank among the ugliest of cities, sprawling broadly across an uptilted volcanic plateau, with obvious disregard for any attempt at city planning. Yet as we entered the old city on a quiet Sunday morning, a different impression formed - one rich in Baroque architecture. The streets are chaotically arranged, becoming even more chaotic with Italian drivers full bore on them, and densely packed. A block changes from apparent ghetto to Baroque cathedral to shop to Roman ruin all within a few steps. There was a lot to take in.
Our apartment lay within a piazza next to the Castel Ursino, formerly a military post on the sea, which became land locked by lava diverted by its own walls into the sea. The lava at once formed new coastline and made the castle somewhat obsolete. The guide books suggested our neighborhood was shady and it certainly appeared that way, in part because of the copious graffiti on the buildings. Yet, we were two blocks away from the most amazing (and largest in Sicily) fish market. Next to that was a beautiful vegetable market several blocks long where we could buy everything we needed. We went everyday and never did have a problem in our neighborhood. Each night, right below our balcony, the piazza turned into an outdoor restaurant with the kindest proprietor. And did I mention the food? Just like the streets, the food was dense but not in a heavy, belly-sinking way. Sicily has a long history of occupation from before the time of the Greeks. Each conquering culture seems to have left its mark on the cuisine. The flavors are complex, the aromas and fragrances enticing.
Lest you think we ate the whole time, we toured a little also. We enjoyed a walking tour of Catania guided by Hal Sharp, our friend Peg's brother. Hal has spent years on an archeological site in Sicily and is well versed in the history and architecture of Catania. We spent a day hiking about the flank of Mt. Etna. At 2000 meters, the Sicilian heat tempered a bit, the breeze blew a bit cooler. I mentioned how large the mountain looked from the sea but once on it I gained an appreciation for how big a mound can become when it is erupting all of the time. We also spent a day in the tourist destination town of Taormina. It sits some 200 meters above the sea and Isola Bella (I love that name). The beach, though rocky is lovely, the water very comfortable, and the gelato delicious. Another day found us in Siracusa, a city that rivaled Athens for importance and power in the days of the Greeks. Ortigia, the old city, lies on an island and is laced with twisting and narrow alley-ways that drew us into their shady depths. And though I never thought I would find it, we entered the oldest church in Europe. The church was built from an old Greek temple of which the original massive columns still support the ceiling. Its construction as a church began while the Romans were still actively persecuting Christians in the early third century.
Our time in Sicily passed and we left much of the island unexplored. But aside from the tours we met Charlie and Rita from Malta and enjoyed a dinner with them. We became familiar with the people in our neighborhood, which turned out to have quite a silver lining to it despite what the guidebooks said. We gained a sense of what Sicily, at least from the point of view of Catania, is like and have put it on the short list of places to which we would already like to return. But leave we did, via Munich and a dinner with dear cousins, Helsinki, and now to Bangkok and Chiang Mai.
Phew! Caught up now a bit, but more to follow of our time in Thailand...
Ciao,
Paul
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Rome
With bleary eyes, we greeted the morning sun across the Italian countryside. We being Aidan and I as we were the first two out of our "couchette" sleeper compartment on the overnight train from Stuttgart. While the kids thought it was pretty cool, I find the idea of the overnight train more romantic sounding than it turned out to be. Maybe it's because we were in a compartment for six, with the remaining two entering the compartment several hours into our attempts at sleep; or maybe it's because the sleeping berth was not really long enough for me, even if I lay on an angle. Regardless, we woke up to bright sun and golden countryside reminiscent of the Colorado Plateau in the late summer with little else to hint at what we would experience and enjoy once settled into Rome.
Settling took a little while. First, the phone number we were provided to contact the guy we rented our apartment from didn't work. Once in the apartment and schooled by Fabrizio (the apartment guy), we made our way through the neighborhood - everything we needed within three blocks, i.e. banco automat (the bank machine), a market, and a train station. Then, we boldly walked to the train station and bus stop to figure out how to get into central Rome. We stared at signs, tried to communicate with bus drivers, even thought of just getting on the train and pleading tourist ignorance. In the end, we skulked back to our apartment temporarily defeated. With a little more information, the next day went much better in that we successfully bought tickets (but used them wrong), and finally got on a train after watching one train go by as we stared at the information board trying to figure it all out. And we learned that schedules in Italy are a relative thing. Despite all of this, we made it into Vatican City for an arranged tour.
Vatican City - at 140 acres, the smallest "country" in the world - packs several "biggest things" into its small area. But even more impressive than St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican Museum is the amount of influence and power wielded by this center of the Catholic world. But that was something we began to understand during our 5 days here. Rome was the center of the world for hundreds of years; and even after it fell it continued to influence the development of Europe. With so much to see in such a short time, where should we start especially with two boys more interested in climbing on the Roman walls than contemplating what occurred within the walls. To provide some focus and to hopefully engage our guys, we arranged to take two walking tours through Rome, one in the evening and the other in the midday. We got lucky because our guide completely captured our kids, especially Charlie who walked right along side Richard our guide and had a non-stop conversation with him. Richard showed us a part of Rome we might have missed had we poked about on our own.
The evening tour started in the middle of Piazza Venezia, a large and loudly congested square, and ended walking through small ally-like streets, where the sounds of the city seemed to disappear into the ancient buildings. After the tour, we sat in Piazza San Ignazio at a outdoor restaurant that could have been in a country village for how peaceful it was. And after a long day, through which the kids had been super, the parents made a tactical mistake - we missed the signs that said the subway closed at 9pm. Now that it was 11pm, with the kids running out of effort, we couldn't quite remember the name of the street our apartment was on as we hailed a cab. After talking with the cab driver (he in Italian, we in English) and throwing out some names we could remember from around our area, he figured it out and we made it back.
That was last night. We followed it up this morning by heading back into the city (we're out of town a little bit), a little earlier than the kids really wanted to do. They rallied and we had a wonderful tour of the Roman Forum and the Colosseum. We saw so much but missed so much more. At least we have a framework now so that the next time we're in Rome we can really see something...
In the morning we leave for the Amalfi Coast. We'll be staying in the Sorrento area with a plan to go to the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. We'll drop a note after we settle into that area. At least we have the trains figured out...
Ciao,
Paul
Settling took a little while. First, the phone number we were provided to contact the guy we rented our apartment from didn't work. Once in the apartment and schooled by Fabrizio (the apartment guy), we made our way through the neighborhood - everything we needed within three blocks, i.e. banco automat (the bank machine), a market, and a train station. Then, we boldly walked to the train station and bus stop to figure out how to get into central Rome. We stared at signs, tried to communicate with bus drivers, even thought of just getting on the train and pleading tourist ignorance. In the end, we skulked back to our apartment temporarily defeated. With a little more information, the next day went much better in that we successfully bought tickets (but used them wrong), and finally got on a train after watching one train go by as we stared at the information board trying to figure it all out. And we learned that schedules in Italy are a relative thing. Despite all of this, we made it into Vatican City for an arranged tour.
Vatican City - at 140 acres, the smallest "country" in the world - packs several "biggest things" into its small area. But even more impressive than St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican Museum is the amount of influence and power wielded by this center of the Catholic world. But that was something we began to understand during our 5 days here. Rome was the center of the world for hundreds of years; and even after it fell it continued to influence the development of Europe. With so much to see in such a short time, where should we start especially with two boys more interested in climbing on the Roman walls than contemplating what occurred within the walls. To provide some focus and to hopefully engage our guys, we arranged to take two walking tours through Rome, one in the evening and the other in the midday. We got lucky because our guide completely captured our kids, especially Charlie who walked right along side Richard our guide and had a non-stop conversation with him. Richard showed us a part of Rome we might have missed had we poked about on our own.
The evening tour started in the middle of Piazza Venezia, a large and loudly congested square, and ended walking through small ally-like streets, where the sounds of the city seemed to disappear into the ancient buildings. After the tour, we sat in Piazza San Ignazio at a outdoor restaurant that could have been in a country village for how peaceful it was. And after a long day, through which the kids had been super, the parents made a tactical mistake - we missed the signs that said the subway closed at 9pm. Now that it was 11pm, with the kids running out of effort, we couldn't quite remember the name of the street our apartment was on as we hailed a cab. After talking with the cab driver (he in Italian, we in English) and throwing out some names we could remember from around our area, he figured it out and we made it back.
That was last night. We followed it up this morning by heading back into the city (we're out of town a little bit), a little earlier than the kids really wanted to do. They rallied and we had a wonderful tour of the Roman Forum and the Colosseum. We saw so much but missed so much more. At least we have a framework now so that the next time we're in Rome we can really see something...
In the morning we leave for the Amalfi Coast. We'll be staying in the Sorrento area with a plan to go to the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. We'll drop a note after we settle into that area. At least we have the trains figured out...
Ciao,
Paul
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Alps Crossing
Where to start? This was a big ride, one for which I was not completely prepared but nevertheless mentally ready to do. My cousin Peppi, who you met via the last blog entry had proposed that I join him for a mountain bike ride over the Alps. Seemed like a good idea. He had done several similar rides over the years and he thought I would have a good time. With such an invitation, how could I refuse?
As Lucy previously wrote, we arrived in Germany on July 29 and made our way to Niederbayern. Niederbayern, or lower Bavaria, is a region east of Munich to the Czech border comprised of rolling farmland, forest, and villages; and is the region from which my grandfather emigrated to the US in 1927. With just two short days to enjoy family, Peppi, Walter (a friend of Peppi's) and I were off to Innsbruck, Austria where we began our ride.
Actually, we drove about 30 km south of Innsbruck to the village of Steinach, avoiding the longish and boringish road ride up the Brenner Pass Road to where the ride really started. It took about 5 minutes to ride through the pretty little village until we were on the first of seemingly thousands of >10% grade climbs - what a warm up, just like riding up Little Park Road from my driveway except steeper. Having done this in the past on previous road rides through the Alps, I knew I would be rewarded with views to sooth the burning legs. Even my seasoned cousin commented several times on the beauty of the valley we were riding through. And if those views didn't suffice, we were on a Waldweg (forest trail) soon enough, passing Bergbauern (mountain farmers) who still use a scythe to cut hay because the valley sides are too steep for machinery. I thought my bike was a bit of a drag to push and carry until I saw those folks cutting and raking hay by hand.
I soon learned the nature of this particular ride when the double track we were following turned steeply uphill into a trail that really was a small stream drainage. Bike on the back but that didn't really feel good; and the trail is really long and steep (was that a bit of whining? on the first day out?, maybe-but I kept it to myself). And just when I thought I was going to have to camp for the night on the side of that trail, Walter whipped out a power gel and I was good to go to the top of Sandjoch (Sand Pass). I made the first big climb of the first day of this six day ride.
Funny thing about this region called South Tirol just over the border from Austria in northern Italy, the valleys are kind of low and the peaks and passes are kind of high making for very spectacular and dramatic elevation changes. In other words, in a flash we descended 1000+ meters and we were in the village of Sterzing. Many of the villages have central squares lined with restaurants filled with people sitting outside, and Sterzing was no exception. I was amazed that evening as I was each time after I ate how much better I felt and how I could get back on my bicycle to ride again. In this case, we rode for another 30 minutes after dinner, gently up valley to our hotel for the night. With the climbing done, I didn't have to think about the next 2000+ meters of elevation gain until the next day.
Day 2 began sunny and warm, and uphill again. We were heading to Schneeberg Pass. We read in the hotel that there is a mine on the far side of the pass, opened in the 1300s. For the first several hundred years of operation, the miners had to carry ore on their backs from the far side of the pass, over the top, and then down valley. I bet their lives were short. We used our modern mountain bike machines to make our way up continuous 10+% grades to the base of the "real" climb. The trail, tipping up to a narrow and blocky 26%, was the same trail used by those miners from the 1300s. As I carried and pushed my bike to the top I thought about how miserable life must have been for those miners and how relatively easy mine was at the moment. And the view from the top, something I am sure the miners of old did not linger for, was again worth every bead of sweat squeezed out of my forehead.
The benefit of traveling in a region that has been settled for longer than 2500 years is that there is a Alpine hut or restaurant at or near every high point in the Alps. We dropped out of Schneeberg Pass to the Schneeberg Alm (an alm is where the cows are cared for in the summer). I ate soup and drank coke until I revived again. In front of us lay about 1300 meters of descent and about 700 meters up to our next night's rest. I knew I could do the descent but that additional 2300 feet at the end of the day would take a little negotiating between my brain and legs but I figured I could worry about that later. And with that thought, we descended.
Despite those 2500 years of settlement, a fall is still a fall and we were pretty far out in the hills. Peppi plopped his front wheel in a water rut and gracefully launched over the handlebars. Happily he was uninjured though it was hard to see how he avoided injury looking at him in a pile of rocks on the trail. His front brake lever was not so lucky as it was snapped off. Now he was looking at 1200 meters of descent with just a rear brake. He pulled it off expertly, though it looked a bit dodgy on some of the steep forest paths. We finally exited onto the main pavement and enjoyed a speedy descent down the Timmelsjoch Road through forests of Larch and Spruce, with the steep walled valley on both sides of us - fantastic!!
At the bottom of the descent we were all intact but Peppi's bike needed to be repaired. Though he got through the descent he did not fancy any more long descents with just one brake. We diverted downhill, giving up a day of riding, into the city of Meran and the Etsch river valley for repair and sleep. For me this was a welcomed diversion, as it gave me a chance to ride through a city I first saw and admired while bicycle touring in 1987. It seems to me this area of northern Italy is completely unknown by Americans and that surprises me. The climate is mild, the surrounding valley is filled with fruit and wine, the peaks are high, and the views are long. In short, I could live there. And we did for the night. The bike repair went well, dinner outdoors filled me up, and the bed in a small home was comfortable enough for my weary legs. We said good-bye to Walter as he left to return to Niederbayern to meet his wife and their upcoming adventure of 3 weeks of bicycle touring in eastern Kazakstan.
But as much as I enjoyed where I was, we were even lower in starting elevation, necessitating gaining all of our meters in one pull. Our goal on day 3 was Tarscher Pass. At almost 2600 meters, we had 2300 meters of climbing in the next 40 or so kilometers. Well, the first part was pleasant enough - we rode along the Etsch River up valley and aside for the 7 switch backs through the 16% grade we had to go over, it was pretty flat. I rode up this valley 24 years ago heading toward the Reschen Pass and return to Austria. For me, I enjoyed reminiscing about that ride.
When the goal of the day is 2300 meters (7546 feet) above where one wakes up, it is best not to ride flat for too long. Eventually, we turned uphill riding through kilometers of apple orchards until we were again in the forest. It was a really long climb to the Tarscher Alm and I thought I would never get there. It was a significant rest goal at 1800 meters in elevation. We sat, ate, and rested to prepare for the last 500 meters of climbing, designated in Peppi's guidebook as a push/carry.
Surprises happen all the time and as I started to push up the trail, I was surprised to know that I was going to make it to the top. I felt good. The trail was surprisingly easy to push on, and as usual, the views were magnificent. From the top, we gazed upon broad and spiky alpine peaks, cloaked with glaciers, a feature of mountain views rapidly melting in our own lower 48 states. It was late in the afternoon, which softened and warmed the light on the surrounding mountains. We could see the head of the valley we were heading toward, where we would stop for another night.
Never say never is a good phrase to live by. We started our descent into Ultental, or Val d'Ultimo in Italian. The region we had been traversing, South Tirol, was officially part of Austria until the late 1930s and retains a strong Austrian feeling. All of the place names are written in both German and Italian. I stumbled upon Ultental on my bicycle tour in 1987. Over the course of a very long day of kilometers and climbing with a loaded bicycle, I camped high on the side of the valley for several days. I clearly remember thinking as I rode out of the valley that I would never be there again and never have to climb up into the valley. Was I in for the second surprise of my day! In my mind, the hotel we had not booked or found yet was exactly at the end of the descent we were enjoying from Tarscher Pass. In reality, we bottomed out and then turned up valley (read: up hill) toward the village of St. Niklaus. Worse yet, the place in the village where the hotels were was at least 75 meters up, believe it or not, a > 10% grade. Worse squared was that when we rode up the steep hill, nobody had any room for two worn out mountain bikers. We ended up visiting with a woman who formerly ran a Pension (small guest house) and she ultimately opened up a room for us in her very beautiful and traditional mountain valley home. I made it through day 3.
Day 4 began with a rapid descent out of town but then gradually uphill to the head of Ultental. We had two goals for the day: Rabbijoch (Rabbi Pass) and then the village of Madonna di Compiglio. I definitely felt better now and was able to ride all of the road up hill until nobody could ride anymore. I was beginning to train into this Alps thing. We crossed Rabbijoch in a cloud, which was the first foreboding weather we had encountered. On the descent we had the pleasure of two events: winding single track through a beautiful meadow filled with flowers and the sounds of cowbells; and the first views of the Dolomiti di Brenti - a group of especially sharp spired peaks within the Dolomites. When we descended to the valley, we were definitely in Italy and no longer in Austrian-influenced Italy. We arrived at 2 pm, just as the Italian restaurants close for the afternoon. We found one place willing to serve us and we enjoyed polenta served on a wooden platter upon which we spooned on a vennison stew. Add some coca cola to that mix and I felt ready to achieve our second goal of the day: Madonna di Compiglio.
So what's the big deal about riding into one of the more exclusive ski resorts in the Dolomites? The 1000 meters of elevation we had to gain to get there (on top to the 1400 we had climbed to the Rabbijoch). By now I can't embellish the climb with any magic; it was really a matter of turning the pedals in such a way that the climb went away. And it did. We arrived in town and found our place to stay all within 30 minutes before the skies opened up with a powerful thunderstorm and deluging rain. Lucky again!
Our last day of riding started in full sunshine with outstanding views of the Dolomiti di Brenti. We made our way through forests, climbing to a glistening lake. Along the way we were passed by some gray-haired fellows on a day ride - I hope I ride like they do when I am their age. The pass we attained from the lake was a walk up, in that all of us, including the gray-hairs, pushed our bikes. Again, the 360 degree view validated the sweat dripped along the way. We thought we had the day in the bag, what with only one pass of < 500 meters elevation gain, how hard could it be? We rode through ride open valleys as we approached Lago di Garda, a glacial lake in northern Italy, where Lucy and the boys were staying in the city of Riva.
Of course it wasn't straight forward, and we lost the trail for a while, ending up in a different place at the top than we expected or hoped for but we made it. The descent was, can you guess?, steep. But the views of the lake with sailboats and windsurfers dotting the surface was like a magnet that drew us even faster down the hill. We arrived, unexpected because we were a day early as a result of the bicycle repair, and were welcomed into the apartment Lucy and the boys had settled into. We were happy, successful, and safe having arrived back with my family.
Despite the physical challenge of the ride, it was absolutely awesome and something I would love to repeat. I would be happy to provide more information to anyone who might be interested in a similar bike tour. This tour is not about riding single track but instead, about using a mountain bike to traverse a long distance, even when the trail seems more appropriate for hiking. In my mind, there is nothing similar to this ride in the US for the volume of climbing for the distance, and the views afforded throughout the route.
Ciao,
Paul
As Lucy previously wrote, we arrived in Germany on July 29 and made our way to Niederbayern. Niederbayern, or lower Bavaria, is a region east of Munich to the Czech border comprised of rolling farmland, forest, and villages; and is the region from which my grandfather emigrated to the US in 1927. With just two short days to enjoy family, Peppi, Walter (a friend of Peppi's) and I were off to Innsbruck, Austria where we began our ride.
Actually, we drove about 30 km south of Innsbruck to the village of Steinach, avoiding the longish and boringish road ride up the Brenner Pass Road to where the ride really started. It took about 5 minutes to ride through the pretty little village until we were on the first of seemingly thousands of >10% grade climbs - what a warm up, just like riding up Little Park Road from my driveway except steeper. Having done this in the past on previous road rides through the Alps, I knew I would be rewarded with views to sooth the burning legs. Even my seasoned cousin commented several times on the beauty of the valley we were riding through. And if those views didn't suffice, we were on a Waldweg (forest trail) soon enough, passing Bergbauern (mountain farmers) who still use a scythe to cut hay because the valley sides are too steep for machinery. I thought my bike was a bit of a drag to push and carry until I saw those folks cutting and raking hay by hand.
I soon learned the nature of this particular ride when the double track we were following turned steeply uphill into a trail that really was a small stream drainage. Bike on the back but that didn't really feel good; and the trail is really long and steep (was that a bit of whining? on the first day out?, maybe-but I kept it to myself). And just when I thought I was going to have to camp for the night on the side of that trail, Walter whipped out a power gel and I was good to go to the top of Sandjoch (Sand Pass). I made the first big climb of the first day of this six day ride.
Funny thing about this region called South Tirol just over the border from Austria in northern Italy, the valleys are kind of low and the peaks and passes are kind of high making for very spectacular and dramatic elevation changes. In other words, in a flash we descended 1000+ meters and we were in the village of Sterzing. Many of the villages have central squares lined with restaurants filled with people sitting outside, and Sterzing was no exception. I was amazed that evening as I was each time after I ate how much better I felt and how I could get back on my bicycle to ride again. In this case, we rode for another 30 minutes after dinner, gently up valley to our hotel for the night. With the climbing done, I didn't have to think about the next 2000+ meters of elevation gain until the next day.
Day 2 began sunny and warm, and uphill again. We were heading to Schneeberg Pass. We read in the hotel that there is a mine on the far side of the pass, opened in the 1300s. For the first several hundred years of operation, the miners had to carry ore on their backs from the far side of the pass, over the top, and then down valley. I bet their lives were short. We used our modern mountain bike machines to make our way up continuous 10+% grades to the base of the "real" climb. The trail, tipping up to a narrow and blocky 26%, was the same trail used by those miners from the 1300s. As I carried and pushed my bike to the top I thought about how miserable life must have been for those miners and how relatively easy mine was at the moment. And the view from the top, something I am sure the miners of old did not linger for, was again worth every bead of sweat squeezed out of my forehead.
The benefit of traveling in a region that has been settled for longer than 2500 years is that there is a Alpine hut or restaurant at or near every high point in the Alps. We dropped out of Schneeberg Pass to the Schneeberg Alm (an alm is where the cows are cared for in the summer). I ate soup and drank coke until I revived again. In front of us lay about 1300 meters of descent and about 700 meters up to our next night's rest. I knew I could do the descent but that additional 2300 feet at the end of the day would take a little negotiating between my brain and legs but I figured I could worry about that later. And with that thought, we descended.
Despite those 2500 years of settlement, a fall is still a fall and we were pretty far out in the hills. Peppi plopped his front wheel in a water rut and gracefully launched over the handlebars. Happily he was uninjured though it was hard to see how he avoided injury looking at him in a pile of rocks on the trail. His front brake lever was not so lucky as it was snapped off. Now he was looking at 1200 meters of descent with just a rear brake. He pulled it off expertly, though it looked a bit dodgy on some of the steep forest paths. We finally exited onto the main pavement and enjoyed a speedy descent down the Timmelsjoch Road through forests of Larch and Spruce, with the steep walled valley on both sides of us - fantastic!!
At the bottom of the descent we were all intact but Peppi's bike needed to be repaired. Though he got through the descent he did not fancy any more long descents with just one brake. We diverted downhill, giving up a day of riding, into the city of Meran and the Etsch river valley for repair and sleep. For me this was a welcomed diversion, as it gave me a chance to ride through a city I first saw and admired while bicycle touring in 1987. It seems to me this area of northern Italy is completely unknown by Americans and that surprises me. The climate is mild, the surrounding valley is filled with fruit and wine, the peaks are high, and the views are long. In short, I could live there. And we did for the night. The bike repair went well, dinner outdoors filled me up, and the bed in a small home was comfortable enough for my weary legs. We said good-bye to Walter as he left to return to Niederbayern to meet his wife and their upcoming adventure of 3 weeks of bicycle touring in eastern Kazakstan.
But as much as I enjoyed where I was, we were even lower in starting elevation, necessitating gaining all of our meters in one pull. Our goal on day 3 was Tarscher Pass. At almost 2600 meters, we had 2300 meters of climbing in the next 40 or so kilometers. Well, the first part was pleasant enough - we rode along the Etsch River up valley and aside for the 7 switch backs through the 16% grade we had to go over, it was pretty flat. I rode up this valley 24 years ago heading toward the Reschen Pass and return to Austria. For me, I enjoyed reminiscing about that ride.
When the goal of the day is 2300 meters (7546 feet) above where one wakes up, it is best not to ride flat for too long. Eventually, we turned uphill riding through kilometers of apple orchards until we were again in the forest. It was a really long climb to the Tarscher Alm and I thought I would never get there. It was a significant rest goal at 1800 meters in elevation. We sat, ate, and rested to prepare for the last 500 meters of climbing, designated in Peppi's guidebook as a push/carry.
Surprises happen all the time and as I started to push up the trail, I was surprised to know that I was going to make it to the top. I felt good. The trail was surprisingly easy to push on, and as usual, the views were magnificent. From the top, we gazed upon broad and spiky alpine peaks, cloaked with glaciers, a feature of mountain views rapidly melting in our own lower 48 states. It was late in the afternoon, which softened and warmed the light on the surrounding mountains. We could see the head of the valley we were heading toward, where we would stop for another night.
Never say never is a good phrase to live by. We started our descent into Ultental, or Val d'Ultimo in Italian. The region we had been traversing, South Tirol, was officially part of Austria until the late 1930s and retains a strong Austrian feeling. All of the place names are written in both German and Italian. I stumbled upon Ultental on my bicycle tour in 1987. Over the course of a very long day of kilometers and climbing with a loaded bicycle, I camped high on the side of the valley for several days. I clearly remember thinking as I rode out of the valley that I would never be there again and never have to climb up into the valley. Was I in for the second surprise of my day! In my mind, the hotel we had not booked or found yet was exactly at the end of the descent we were enjoying from Tarscher Pass. In reality, we bottomed out and then turned up valley (read: up hill) toward the village of St. Niklaus. Worse yet, the place in the village where the hotels were was at least 75 meters up, believe it or not, a > 10% grade. Worse squared was that when we rode up the steep hill, nobody had any room for two worn out mountain bikers. We ended up visiting with a woman who formerly ran a Pension (small guest house) and she ultimately opened up a room for us in her very beautiful and traditional mountain valley home. I made it through day 3.
Day 4 began with a rapid descent out of town but then gradually uphill to the head of Ultental. We had two goals for the day: Rabbijoch (Rabbi Pass) and then the village of Madonna di Compiglio. I definitely felt better now and was able to ride all of the road up hill until nobody could ride anymore. I was beginning to train into this Alps thing. We crossed Rabbijoch in a cloud, which was the first foreboding weather we had encountered. On the descent we had the pleasure of two events: winding single track through a beautiful meadow filled with flowers and the sounds of cowbells; and the first views of the Dolomiti di Brenti - a group of especially sharp spired peaks within the Dolomites. When we descended to the valley, we were definitely in Italy and no longer in Austrian-influenced Italy. We arrived at 2 pm, just as the Italian restaurants close for the afternoon. We found one place willing to serve us and we enjoyed polenta served on a wooden platter upon which we spooned on a vennison stew. Add some coca cola to that mix and I felt ready to achieve our second goal of the day: Madonna di Compiglio.
So what's the big deal about riding into one of the more exclusive ski resorts in the Dolomites? The 1000 meters of elevation we had to gain to get there (on top to the 1400 we had climbed to the Rabbijoch). By now I can't embellish the climb with any magic; it was really a matter of turning the pedals in such a way that the climb went away. And it did. We arrived in town and found our place to stay all within 30 minutes before the skies opened up with a powerful thunderstorm and deluging rain. Lucky again!
Our last day of riding started in full sunshine with outstanding views of the Dolomiti di Brenti. We made our way through forests, climbing to a glistening lake. Along the way we were passed by some gray-haired fellows on a day ride - I hope I ride like they do when I am their age. The pass we attained from the lake was a walk up, in that all of us, including the gray-hairs, pushed our bikes. Again, the 360 degree view validated the sweat dripped along the way. We thought we had the day in the bag, what with only one pass of < 500 meters elevation gain, how hard could it be? We rode through ride open valleys as we approached Lago di Garda, a glacial lake in northern Italy, where Lucy and the boys were staying in the city of Riva.
Of course it wasn't straight forward, and we lost the trail for a while, ending up in a different place at the top than we expected or hoped for but we made it. The descent was, can you guess?, steep. But the views of the lake with sailboats and windsurfers dotting the surface was like a magnet that drew us even faster down the hill. We arrived, unexpected because we were a day early as a result of the bicycle repair, and were welcomed into the apartment Lucy and the boys had settled into. We were happy, successful, and safe having arrived back with my family.
Despite the physical challenge of the ride, it was absolutely awesome and something I would love to repeat. I would be happy to provide more information to anyone who might be interested in a similar bike tour. This tour is not about riding single track but instead, about using a mountain bike to traverse a long distance, even when the trail seems more appropriate for hiking. In my mind, there is nothing similar to this ride in the US for the volume of climbing for the distance, and the views afforded throughout the route.
Ciao,
Paul
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Germany and Italy
Paul will write more erudite prose shortly, but for now I'll provide, in conversational babble, an update of our travels. We have only had intermittent internet so I apologize for our slow update! Our last week in London was filled with cramming in the last minute 'must see' sights and enjoying dinners with family. We took the train ~ 1 hour to Windsor Castle and enjoyed the beauty, art, and amazing history of this still-used residence of the monarchy. We also toured the Tower of London, finding ourselves engrossed in the gruesome history of prisoners and torture...not to mention those privileged enough to get their heads cut off there (Anne Boleyn among them.) We had our first (hopefully last?) brush with health care abroad as one of Aidan's semi-repaired front teeth, both of which were sheered off in an accident when he was 7, fractured off and we spent many hours over two days in a dental clinic trying to get the tooth repaired. The dentist was wonderful and tried to make a new segment of the tooth, but sadly it broke off again only a week later. So, if Aidan's not smiling much in pictures it's his attempt to hide his tooth, not that he's not having fun (I hope.) It was a wonderful time in London and my longest stint there since college. After a somewhat sappy good-bye to my aunt and family there, we were off to Germany to connect with Paul's family.
We arrived in Munich on July 29 and rented a car to drive to Paul's family's house ~1 1/2 hours east of Munich. They live just outside a small village called Tann very near the Austrian border. This is the home where Paul traveled to as a teen and the home of his mother's first cousin and her family. Paul is quite close to her two children (his second cousins.) We were just there for a day and two nights initially as Paul and one of his cousin's, Joe (aka Peppi), had planned a trans-Alp mountain bike ride from July 31-August 5. Paul and Joe headed off early Sunday morning, July 31, to start their ride and the boys and I made our way later in the day to a town in northern Italy called Riva di Garda where we were to wait for them. Riva is on the northern tip of a large, gorgeous, glacially-formed lake called Lago di Garda. I had rented an apartment ~ 1/4 mile from the lake and the boys and I settled into a nice routine. "School" for us started August 1 so we would play in the morning and "school" in the afternoons. Aidan took four days of wind surfing lessons all morning and Charlie and I rented bikes and rode to neighboring villages during his lessons. There is a large network of bike paths so the riding was car-free which made it stress-free for me (except when Charlie swatted at a bug, swerved on his bike, and careened down an embankment to a gravel road below--fortunately sustaining only a few minor flesh wounds.) While we had a car, we walked or biked everywhere as August in northern Italy is high season and there were swarms of people. I did not run into any Americans, however. Most of the tourists were Italian or German.
We are all still trying to find our groove with "school." Where is my beloved Scenic family?? Of course I do everything 'wrong' and not like Mrs. Hunt, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. McComb (insert any Scenic teacher name here), but together we are trying to find some routine. Thanks to my girlfriend Darcie, who spent an evening showing me some great curricula, Aidan has a excellent math book (Life of Fred) and is very motivated in other subjects. Since we'll be in Rome the end of next week, we've been studying ancient Rome and Aidan's current history project is to research a character from ancient Roman times, make a costume for himself, dress up, then tell us about who is he, how he lives, what he does, etc. followed by familial Q & A. We should have a fun evening role playing in Rome after a day of sightseeing. Charlie is doing a biography of an emperor of his choice. Charlie has been less enthusiastic in school so far and finds everything 'boring.' He's using a Singapore math curriculum and doing very well, but he misses Mad Minutes and other fun things he has done in the classroom setting. I'll be emailing teachers, I'm sure, to solicit some help. Both boys are not very interested in putting pen to paper so writing is another challenge. Fortunately, Aidan is an avid reader and plows through books. Charlie's reading has really picked up also and he's reading more and more books independently. They both love books and still enjoy being read to every night.
One afternoon in Italy just as we finished our school work the doorbell of our flat rang. I assumed it was someone wanting me to move my rental car and was so surprised when I looked out the window and saw Paul and Joe. Joe had crashed his bike and while his body was uninjured his bike sustained a breakage requiring a part and a one day shortening of their ride. They arrived sweaty, tan, happy, and tired. We enjoyed two more nights in Riva before heading back to Tann, Germany. Paul and Joe had to take the train with their bikes to their starting point as the rental car had no place for bikes. The boys and I drove to meet them. Unfortunately the traffic was so horrific on the Saturday morning we left that it took us three hours to go 30 km. Ugh! Thankfully Joe left us with a bag of Haribo gummy bears which I doled out slowly, getting us through the worst of the traffic with minimal hand-to-hand backseat combat.
We spent the next eight days in Tann enjoying the countryside, hiking a mountain near Salzburg, Austria; eating, drinking, eating, drinking, swimming a bit, and generally relaxing. We had Kaffee and Kuchen most afternoons (a most civilized event) either at home or at homes of extended family. It was fun to hear stories of when Paul was in Germany as a teenager. My most proper husband, I'm happy to know, was not always so proper. On one visit, Joe had to bring Paul and his younger brother, Stephen, to school with him. Paul and Stephen were soon kicked out of the classroom for being disruptive. They sat on the steps outside the classroom windows loudly whistling "Yankee Doodle Dandy" for hours. Who knew Paulie could be so ornery? Makes me love him even more.
We are now staying with Joe at his house in a city called Esslingen just outside of Stuttgart. We are enjoying this gorgeous area (we are not in Bavaria anymore, this region is called Baden-Wurttemberg) and there is great running and biking from the door. Many of the paths are paved, but there are steep, short hills that wind through vineyards and forests with impressive views of the surrounding cities and countryside. We are cooking at home predominately on this trip so far, but we have eaten out enough to know that the food is wonderful. I'm enjoying daily visits to the bakery for amazing bread, the butcher for sausages/salamis, and the market for other things. Of course, I don't always get it right. Yesterday I came home with what I thought were frozen chicken breasts only to find they were frozen chicken parts no one eats. Thank God for Paul--without hesitating he made a great chicken stock out of these gory bits which he then used to make a delicious spinach/mushroom risotto.
More later as time goes on. We think of our friends often and miss everyone back home! We're working on the pictures...really!
We arrived in Munich on July 29 and rented a car to drive to Paul's family's house ~1 1/2 hours east of Munich. They live just outside a small village called Tann very near the Austrian border. This is the home where Paul traveled to as a teen and the home of his mother's first cousin and her family. Paul is quite close to her two children (his second cousins.) We were just there for a day and two nights initially as Paul and one of his cousin's, Joe (aka Peppi), had planned a trans-Alp mountain bike ride from July 31-August 5. Paul and Joe headed off early Sunday morning, July 31, to start their ride and the boys and I made our way later in the day to a town in northern Italy called Riva di Garda where we were to wait for them. Riva is on the northern tip of a large, gorgeous, glacially-formed lake called Lago di Garda. I had rented an apartment ~ 1/4 mile from the lake and the boys and I settled into a nice routine. "School" for us started August 1 so we would play in the morning and "school" in the afternoons. Aidan took four days of wind surfing lessons all morning and Charlie and I rented bikes and rode to neighboring villages during his lessons. There is a large network of bike paths so the riding was car-free which made it stress-free for me (except when Charlie swatted at a bug, swerved on his bike, and careened down an embankment to a gravel road below--fortunately sustaining only a few minor flesh wounds.) While we had a car, we walked or biked everywhere as August in northern Italy is high season and there were swarms of people. I did not run into any Americans, however. Most of the tourists were Italian or German.
We are all still trying to find our groove with "school." Where is my beloved Scenic family?? Of course I do everything 'wrong' and not like Mrs. Hunt, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. McComb (insert any Scenic teacher name here), but together we are trying to find some routine. Thanks to my girlfriend Darcie, who spent an evening showing me some great curricula, Aidan has a excellent math book (Life of Fred) and is very motivated in other subjects. Since we'll be in Rome the end of next week, we've been studying ancient Rome and Aidan's current history project is to research a character from ancient Roman times, make a costume for himself, dress up, then tell us about who is he, how he lives, what he does, etc. followed by familial Q & A. We should have a fun evening role playing in Rome after a day of sightseeing. Charlie is doing a biography of an emperor of his choice. Charlie has been less enthusiastic in school so far and finds everything 'boring.' He's using a Singapore math curriculum and doing very well, but he misses Mad Minutes and other fun things he has done in the classroom setting. I'll be emailing teachers, I'm sure, to solicit some help. Both boys are not very interested in putting pen to paper so writing is another challenge. Fortunately, Aidan is an avid reader and plows through books. Charlie's reading has really picked up also and he's reading more and more books independently. They both love books and still enjoy being read to every night.
One afternoon in Italy just as we finished our school work the doorbell of our flat rang. I assumed it was someone wanting me to move my rental car and was so surprised when I looked out the window and saw Paul and Joe. Joe had crashed his bike and while his body was uninjured his bike sustained a breakage requiring a part and a one day shortening of their ride. They arrived sweaty, tan, happy, and tired. We enjoyed two more nights in Riva before heading back to Tann, Germany. Paul and Joe had to take the train with their bikes to their starting point as the rental car had no place for bikes. The boys and I drove to meet them. Unfortunately the traffic was so horrific on the Saturday morning we left that it took us three hours to go 30 km. Ugh! Thankfully Joe left us with a bag of Haribo gummy bears which I doled out slowly, getting us through the worst of the traffic with minimal hand-to-hand backseat combat.
We spent the next eight days in Tann enjoying the countryside, hiking a mountain near Salzburg, Austria; eating, drinking, eating, drinking, swimming a bit, and generally relaxing. We had Kaffee and Kuchen most afternoons (a most civilized event) either at home or at homes of extended family. It was fun to hear stories of when Paul was in Germany as a teenager. My most proper husband, I'm happy to know, was not always so proper. On one visit, Joe had to bring Paul and his younger brother, Stephen, to school with him. Paul and Stephen were soon kicked out of the classroom for being disruptive. They sat on the steps outside the classroom windows loudly whistling "Yankee Doodle Dandy" for hours. Who knew Paulie could be so ornery? Makes me love him even more.
We are now staying with Joe at his house in a city called Esslingen just outside of Stuttgart. We are enjoying this gorgeous area (we are not in Bavaria anymore, this region is called Baden-Wurttemberg) and there is great running and biking from the door. Many of the paths are paved, but there are steep, short hills that wind through vineyards and forests with impressive views of the surrounding cities and countryside. We are cooking at home predominately on this trip so far, but we have eaten out enough to know that the food is wonderful. I'm enjoying daily visits to the bakery for amazing bread, the butcher for sausages/salamis, and the market for other things. Of course, I don't always get it right. Yesterday I came home with what I thought were frozen chicken breasts only to find they were frozen chicken parts no one eats. Thank God for Paul--without hesitating he made a great chicken stock out of these gory bits which he then used to make a delicious spinach/mushroom risotto.
More later as time goes on. We think of our friends often and miss everyone back home! We're working on the pictures...really!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Normandy-London Connection
In 1066 A.D., William, a Norman Duke (of Viking heritage), crossed the English Channel from Normandy and set about the task of claiming title to the English monarchy. He reigned for twenty years and became known as William the Conqueror. Among his many accomplishments were the foundation of the English monarchy as we know it, and the beginning of construction on the Tower of London. Along with Windsor Castle (the oldest and largest continually lived-in castle in the world), the Tower of London has gained quite a bit of notoriety. Initially, it served as an army garrison to protect access on the River Thames and as a home for monarchs. It subsequently became a prison, hosting such famous people as Thomas More, Anne Boleyn, Sir Walter Raleigh, Guy Fawkes, Charles I, and more recently, Rudolf Hess (part of Hitler's Nazi machine). Guy Fawkes is an interesting fellow, who in 1605 as a Catholic in a Protestant British world, planted a bomb in Parliament House. He fled to what must have been country then - Parliament Hill in Hampstead Heath, just up the street from where we are staying with Lucy's aunt, to watch Parliament House blow up. Unfortunately, the bomb failed, he was caught, and delivered to the Tower where he met an unsavory end. Just today, Charlie and I walked over Parliament Hill for the fine view over London though we can no longer see Parliament House because of more recent additions to the London skyline.
Getting back to the earlier days, several monarchs after William, Edward I extended the rule of English law to Wales and Scotland. With some trepidation, we rented a car and I drove (yes, on the wrong side of the road, as only the British empire can get away with) for several hours to the Welsh countryside, finishing our drive on a lane that was as wide as our little Kia, hemmed in by large hedge rows on each side. Though there were very few cars on that lane, I had to back up once when a car approached from the other direction. Despite confusion over which shoulder to look over while backing up, and which hand to shift with, and why is there so much car to the left of me that I keep forgetting about?, we finally made it to Hay-on-Wye. For you literary types, you might recognize this village as hosting the largest used book fair in the UK (?the World). I've heard it said that the typical town in the American West has more bars than people; this town has more book stores than people and therefore many more pages of books also. And in addition to all of those wonderful books, the Welsh countryside is beautiful in a wind-swept, heath to the ridge-line way that makes everything look further and higher than it all was. I longed to walk one of the long, barren ridges anticipating the same sense of airy freedom we obtain on our own much higher ridges and peaks in Colorado. While I didn't get the chance to hike in the uplands, we made a loop ride on bicycles out from town, riding past 13th century churches. The people have been part of this land for a very long time.
We've had quite a fill of history during our visit to the UK. Much of the rule of law we enjoy in the US has roots here as we learned during our travels through Boston, Vermont, and Long Island. Seeing all of this makes the history I learned a long time ago make more sense and become more pertinent to my life. And although it seems like we have done so much here, we have barely scratched the outer crust. We could spend many more months here but our time in London and the surrounding countryside is rapidly coming to an end. Within two days we will begin the next part of our travels as we make our way to Germany, the Alps, and Italy. Until then, we have a few more sites to see: Westminster Abbey, another 13th century Norman creation; St.Paul's Cathedral, which survived the Battle of Britain during WWII; and anything else we can cram in before we fly on Friday.
Cheers,
Paul
Getting back to the earlier days, several monarchs after William, Edward I extended the rule of English law to Wales and Scotland. With some trepidation, we rented a car and I drove (yes, on the wrong side of the road, as only the British empire can get away with) for several hours to the Welsh countryside, finishing our drive on a lane that was as wide as our little Kia, hemmed in by large hedge rows on each side. Though there were very few cars on that lane, I had to back up once when a car approached from the other direction. Despite confusion over which shoulder to look over while backing up, and which hand to shift with, and why is there so much car to the left of me that I keep forgetting about?, we finally made it to Hay-on-Wye. For you literary types, you might recognize this village as hosting the largest used book fair in the UK (?the World). I've heard it said that the typical town in the American West has more bars than people; this town has more book stores than people and therefore many more pages of books also. And in addition to all of those wonderful books, the Welsh countryside is beautiful in a wind-swept, heath to the ridge-line way that makes everything look further and higher than it all was. I longed to walk one of the long, barren ridges anticipating the same sense of airy freedom we obtain on our own much higher ridges and peaks in Colorado. While I didn't get the chance to hike in the uplands, we made a loop ride on bicycles out from town, riding past 13th century churches. The people have been part of this land for a very long time.
We've had quite a fill of history during our visit to the UK. Much of the rule of law we enjoy in the US has roots here as we learned during our travels through Boston, Vermont, and Long Island. Seeing all of this makes the history I learned a long time ago make more sense and become more pertinent to my life. And although it seems like we have done so much here, we have barely scratched the outer crust. We could spend many more months here but our time in London and the surrounding countryside is rapidly coming to an end. Within two days we will begin the next part of our travels as we make our way to Germany, the Alps, and Italy. Until then, we have a few more sites to see: Westminster Abbey, another 13th century Norman creation; St.Paul's Cathedral, which survived the Battle of Britain during WWII; and anything else we can cram in before we fly on Friday.
Cheers,
Paul
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
London and Normandy
Yes, we're slackers!! Obviously we're having a wonderful time in London. Both Paul and I had a first (hard to believe at our age, eh?) in that we had a daytime trans-Atlantic flight. We left Paul's Mom's house at 5am to arrive at JFK by 6 (of course we anticipated heavy traffic and there was none--we made it in 25 minutes) and left the ground at 8. We flew for six hours and watched movies the whole time. Great fun and we weren't trashed and navigating passport control at 2 in the morning body time. Overall we loved this course of travel. It did mean we arrived at 11pm at my aunt's house where she and my cousin's wife had a delicious meal waiting for us despite the hour. I think we have neglected our blog duties because we have been so well taken care of and pampered while here. I have a strong connection and affinity to my aunt's house and London in general as this is where I vacationed as a child every other year or so. Staying at my aunt's house is like coming home--drinking coffee (or wine depending on the hour) while philosophizing around the kitchen table is as comfortable as my softest jammies.
My aunt's house in situated near the largest park in London, Hampstead Heath. Happily, we played here often as we adjusted to London time. We also enjoyed several dinner parties with family and friends during the first several days here. My family here is filled with foodies who produce the most delicious meals with equal parts aestheticism and flavor--it reminds me of many friends back home (you know who you are.)
My only three cousins grew up in London. Two are still living here, but my youngest cousin now lives in Normandy, near Caen, France with his wife. With my aunt and her friend, we trained to Portsmouth Harbor and boarded a ferry to cross the English Channel to Caen. It was a completely enjoyable trip and my cousin, Jake, met us at the other end. It's a 45 minute drive to their country house in a very hilly, rural village consisting only of several houses. They have done up an old barn into a charming house and work studio for them. What was once overgrown grasses and weeds has been transformed into a beautiful garden of grass, flowers, hedges, trees, and flower and vegetable gardens with hammocks, swings, and a wonderful outdoor patio by which to enjoy the view and the out-of-doors. A stunning outdoor shower surrounded by a privacy wall of bamboo was a great hit. We exercised so we had an excuse to use the shower.
The company was wonderful, the meals fresh and fabulous, and we had lots of rousing games of Bananagrams. Our last day Jake drove us all to a large market in Caen (how I wish we had markets like that in the US) and then to Omaha Beach. The weather had been dodgy so we hadn't packed our swim suits, but that didn't stop the boys--in they went. I had a rather bizarre, indescribable sensation as I watched the crowd of people enjoying the beach and playing on the dunes behind the beach while thinking about what happened at this very site on June 6, 1944. It's a wide beach and quite exposed--hard to imagine the Americans made any progress here against the Germans who were organized and protected by trenches and bunkers as the American ships sent troops of men running onto shore with no cover. We found the monuments and tributes to that day's events fascinating.
It was bittersweet leaving France--we loved being with Jake and Lin and will miss them, but there was much yet to see in London. Unfortunately, Aidan picked up a stomach bug the night before we left for France and he suffered a bit all week. The rest of us got the bug when we left France and were completely out of commission for days once back in London. Paul and Aidan did manage to get to the British Museum (they got to see the actual Rosetta Stone!!!) and Cleopatra's Needle one day and then we all visited the wonderful science museum. Cleopatra's Needle is an ancient Egyptian obelisk and the twin of the one we saw in Central Park in NY. There is a third obelisk which sits in Paris...not on the itinerary for this trip. Its twin is still in Egypt.
Another of my cousins lives in Greenwich, a southern London village. We had the pleasure of an afternoon and evening with my cousin, her husband, and two of their three children. Greenwich is famous for the Royal Observatory and the Maritime museum, among other things. We were not there after dark so we didn't get to see it, but there's a green laser light which is shone from the observatory and marks the Prime Meridian and Greenwich Mean Time (GMT.) The Maritime museum had a wonderful art installation called Arctic Illusion, which through stories and light displays conveyed the impending crisis of global glacial ice melt. Chilling seems like the right word, but I'm not trying to make light of the illusion or the content. It was quite well-done and moving.
We'll work on updating pictures soon and will describe our next adventure soon--I promise.
My aunt's house in situated near the largest park in London, Hampstead Heath. Happily, we played here often as we adjusted to London time. We also enjoyed several dinner parties with family and friends during the first several days here. My family here is filled with foodies who produce the most delicious meals with equal parts aestheticism and flavor--it reminds me of many friends back home (you know who you are.)
My only three cousins grew up in London. Two are still living here, but my youngest cousin now lives in Normandy, near Caen, France with his wife. With my aunt and her friend, we trained to Portsmouth Harbor and boarded a ferry to cross the English Channel to Caen. It was a completely enjoyable trip and my cousin, Jake, met us at the other end. It's a 45 minute drive to their country house in a very hilly, rural village consisting only of several houses. They have done up an old barn into a charming house and work studio for them. What was once overgrown grasses and weeds has been transformed into a beautiful garden of grass, flowers, hedges, trees, and flower and vegetable gardens with hammocks, swings, and a wonderful outdoor patio by which to enjoy the view and the out-of-doors. A stunning outdoor shower surrounded by a privacy wall of bamboo was a great hit. We exercised so we had an excuse to use the shower.
The company was wonderful, the meals fresh and fabulous, and we had lots of rousing games of Bananagrams. Our last day Jake drove us all to a large market in Caen (how I wish we had markets like that in the US) and then to Omaha Beach. The weather had been dodgy so we hadn't packed our swim suits, but that didn't stop the boys--in they went. I had a rather bizarre, indescribable sensation as I watched the crowd of people enjoying the beach and playing on the dunes behind the beach while thinking about what happened at this very site on June 6, 1944. It's a wide beach and quite exposed--hard to imagine the Americans made any progress here against the Germans who were organized and protected by trenches and bunkers as the American ships sent troops of men running onto shore with no cover. We found the monuments and tributes to that day's events fascinating.
It was bittersweet leaving France--we loved being with Jake and Lin and will miss them, but there was much yet to see in London. Unfortunately, Aidan picked up a stomach bug the night before we left for France and he suffered a bit all week. The rest of us got the bug when we left France and were completely out of commission for days once back in London. Paul and Aidan did manage to get to the British Museum (they got to see the actual Rosetta Stone!!!) and Cleopatra's Needle one day and then we all visited the wonderful science museum. Cleopatra's Needle is an ancient Egyptian obelisk and the twin of the one we saw in Central Park in NY. There is a third obelisk which sits in Paris...not on the itinerary for this trip. Its twin is still in Egypt.
Another of my cousins lives in Greenwich, a southern London village. We had the pleasure of an afternoon and evening with my cousin, her husband, and two of their three children. Greenwich is famous for the Royal Observatory and the Maritime museum, among other things. We were not there after dark so we didn't get to see it, but there's a green laser light which is shone from the observatory and marks the Prime Meridian and Greenwich Mean Time (GMT.) The Maritime museum had a wonderful art installation called Arctic Illusion, which through stories and light displays conveyed the impending crisis of global glacial ice melt. Chilling seems like the right word, but I'm not trying to make light of the illusion or the content. It was quite well-done and moving.
We'll work on updating pictures soon and will describe our next adventure soon--I promise.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Good-bye Northeast; Hello London
I'll admit I have been a bit slack on the reporting effort lately. Since the last post, we made our way to southwestern Vermont, where we caught up with our friends Karen & Tim and their kids. Lucy and our kids had never been to Vermont and they weren't disappointed. Vermont - green mountain - is appropriately named as dense forests cover the mountains to the ridge tops and soften the angles so nothing seems very steep. Two days of bicycle riding showed me that the roads somehow lose that soft appearance. We spent the days swimming at the local lake and quarry, bristling in the cold water and on the not quite sunny enough banks. We enjoyed meeting a diverse group of friends.
The Revolutionary War toured southern Vermont and we learned more history when we visited the monument to the Battle of Bennington, a turning point for the struggling Continental Army that motivated the French to support our efforts against the British. Shortly after losing at Bennington, the British succumbed at Saratoga, New York and surrendered in New England. Unfortunately, the fighting continued for some four more torturous years and required another two years after fighting ended to conclude. All of this Revolutionary War history has made me appreciate July 4th more this year than ever before.
With one full day left in New York, we have opportunity to reflect on a very prominent and inescapable aspect of this area: the local dialect. It amuses me to listen to my family try to imitate the local lingo. I grew up with it and for all of you who know me, you know how hard I have tried to shake it. Nevertheless, the accent is unique and has found a place in my ear again. As the time here has provided me with the longest immersion in my native speak I have had in 28 years, I hear now in the imitations of my family what makes the vernacular so interesting. I've never known where it all came from since to my ear it sounds nothing like those accents of folks who live outside of the New York metro area but it is what it is and I have enjoyed reacquainting my ear if not my tongue to this most distinctive dialect.
Next on our itinerary is London. We look forward to spending several weeks with Lucy's aunt and cousins, and our transition to Europe.
The Revolutionary War toured southern Vermont and we learned more history when we visited the monument to the Battle of Bennington, a turning point for the struggling Continental Army that motivated the French to support our efforts against the British. Shortly after losing at Bennington, the British succumbed at Saratoga, New York and surrendered in New England. Unfortunately, the fighting continued for some four more torturous years and required another two years after fighting ended to conclude. All of this Revolutionary War history has made me appreciate July 4th more this year than ever before.
With one full day left in New York, we have opportunity to reflect on a very prominent and inescapable aspect of this area: the local dialect. It amuses me to listen to my family try to imitate the local lingo. I grew up with it and for all of you who know me, you know how hard I have tried to shake it. Nevertheless, the accent is unique and has found a place in my ear again. As the time here has provided me with the longest immersion in my native speak I have had in 28 years, I hear now in the imitations of my family what makes the vernacular so interesting. I've never known where it all came from since to my ear it sounds nothing like those accents of folks who live outside of the New York metro area but it is what it is and I have enjoyed reacquainting my ear if not my tongue to this most distinctive dialect.
Next on our itinerary is London. We look forward to spending several weeks with Lucy's aunt and cousins, and our transition to Europe.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Long Island and Boston
Formed by the terminal moraine of retreating Wisconsin glaciation some 21000 years ago, Long Island is the largest and longest island in the contiguous United States. It was inhabited by native Americans of the Algonquin language group who were first contacted by Europeans in 1524, when Giovanni de Verrazano first spied New York Bay and Long Island. Over the subsequent 116 years, the Dutch, British, Dutch, British, and finally Americans controlled Long Island and New York. The largest battle of the Revolutionary War was fought in Kings County, also known as Brooklyn. The western part of the Island aligned with New York while the eastern part paid allegiance to first the Massachusetts Bay Colony and then to Connecticut and Rhode Island. Even today, eastern Long Island, especially the north fork, has a distinctly New England feel to it (the south fork anchored by the Hamptons is best known for glitz though the beaches and dunes are truly beautiful). As of 2010, Long Island claimed 7,568,304 inhabitants. I arrived in 1960 and left, initially partly in 1978, then permanently in 1984. Despite the crush of humanity that now inhabits Long Island, family and memories still draw me back. This time we are here as a prelude to our bigger adventure.
If anything defines Long Island, it is the ocean. The south shore is protected from the ravages of the of the North Atlantic Ocean by a series of barrier beaches extending almost from the western most part of Brooklyn nearly to the tip of Montauk Point some 118 miles to the east. Between the Island and the barrier beaches is a large system of bays in which Long Islanders play. We had the opportunity to tour part of the Great South Bay with my brother in his boat. We spent an afternoon boating about enjoying the cool salt air, while Aidan (with guidance from his uncle) drove the boat. Contemplating all the adventures we could have from the water was fun and something to take up another time. But for now, we all revelled in the bright sun and ocean fragrances.
As if there is not enough to do with all the water and the offerings of New York City, we travelled to Boston. For four days, we wandered around Revolutionary era Boston and came away with a sense of the roots of our country none of us had before. We spent a day walking the Freedom Trail, which highlights the notable people and locations of our nation. Seeing it all in one place, rather than on the pages of a history book consolidated the efforts of the Bostonian colonists in a way none of us had appreciated. Yesterday, with our friends John and Terri, we walked about Minuteman Park in the Concord and Lexington areas. Our stroll over North Bridge in a gentle rain was very different from the meeting the colonist Minutemen had with the British regular army on April 18, 1775 as "the shot heard 'round the world" was let loose. Like the Freedom Trail, Minuteman Park and the Battle Road helped us understand the stakes at the start of the Revolutionary War.
Driving back from Boston today, we ran into the result of 7,568,304 people living on an island: epic traffic. Though it couldn't diminish our experience, it is the cold bucket of water in the face that reminds me why we live in the Wild West. We'll brave the traffic yet again next week as we travel to Vermont to visit dear friends and explore more of New England.
Ciao,
Paul
If anything defines Long Island, it is the ocean. The south shore is protected from the ravages of the of the North Atlantic Ocean by a series of barrier beaches extending almost from the western most part of Brooklyn nearly to the tip of Montauk Point some 118 miles to the east. Between the Island and the barrier beaches is a large system of bays in which Long Islanders play. We had the opportunity to tour part of the Great South Bay with my brother in his boat. We spent an afternoon boating about enjoying the cool salt air, while Aidan (with guidance from his uncle) drove the boat. Contemplating all the adventures we could have from the water was fun and something to take up another time. But for now, we all revelled in the bright sun and ocean fragrances.
As if there is not enough to do with all the water and the offerings of New York City, we travelled to Boston. For four days, we wandered around Revolutionary era Boston and came away with a sense of the roots of our country none of us had before. We spent a day walking the Freedom Trail, which highlights the notable people and locations of our nation. Seeing it all in one place, rather than on the pages of a history book consolidated the efforts of the Bostonian colonists in a way none of us had appreciated. Yesterday, with our friends John and Terri, we walked about Minuteman Park in the Concord and Lexington areas. Our stroll over North Bridge in a gentle rain was very different from the meeting the colonist Minutemen had with the British regular army on April 18, 1775 as "the shot heard 'round the world" was let loose. Like the Freedom Trail, Minuteman Park and the Battle Road helped us understand the stakes at the start of the Revolutionary War.
Driving back from Boston today, we ran into the result of 7,568,304 people living on an island: epic traffic. Though it couldn't diminish our experience, it is the cold bucket of water in the face that reminds me why we live in the Wild West. We'll brave the traffic yet again next week as we travel to Vermont to visit dear friends and explore more of New England.
Ciao,
Paul
Saturday, June 18, 2011
First Stop: New York
We were a bit breathless as we left family and friends early June 14, having spent the last several weeks funnelling our Grand Junction lives of sixteen years into four suitcases we hope sufficient to carry us on at least the first part of our travels. Landing in the familiar landscape of Long Island and New York City, we have all transitioned pretty well thus far. On Aidan's suggestion we have already visited the Big Apple, where we strolled through Central Park and viewed Cleopatra's Obelisk behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Aidan and Charlie have both been keen to see the obelisk having learned about it this past winter while driving back and forth to Powderhorn Ski area. We finished the day with a tour of the Egypt exhibition inside the museum - even Charlie found something to keep his attention.
This is the first of many stories about our travels. Shortly, we will include pictures as we figure out how to make all of this happen. We look forward to comments, questions, and your own stories.
Paul & Lucy
This is the first of many stories about our travels. Shortly, we will include pictures as we figure out how to make all of this happen. We look forward to comments, questions, and your own stories.
Paul & Lucy
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