Marvelous Moments, Madness and Musings - Moments of Wander

A Moment in Belize and Mexico

Tavi Parusel — Fri, 15 Dec 2017 01:40:43 +0000

Part 2: Belize and Mexico

We left Guatemala feeling like we had barely scratched the surface, concerned that we had left too soon and that the remainder of the trip wouldn't measure up. While the second half of our trip was devoid of fiery volcanoes, long hikes and small town adventures, Belize and Mexico delivered to us a healthy dose of sun, white sand beaches and exquisitely warm turquoise water. Sometimes dropping all your plans and doing absolutely nothing is exactly what you need.

Caye Caulker, Belize

We began our foray into Belize with a 5am bus ride out of Flores and a tedious wait at the border tempered by the company of a chatty and charismatic American named Sam. A short boat ride from the smothering heat of Belize City is the impossibly charming Caye Caulker. A sand spit of an island that is dotted with every tropical island trope you can think of in the best way possible. Palm trees, colourful huts, sailboats, white-sand and no traffic save for the bicycles and golf-carts that cruise by, dutifully following the island mantra of “go slow”. While our experience of Belizean culture was limited to the small island, what we saw was a cheerfully diverse mix of Creole, Spanish, Caribbean and British culture. Home to a flourishing barrier reef, Belize is also incredibly ecologically diverse.

We opted to take a snorkelling tour of the reef and during the 8-hour excursion we saw turtles, nurse sharks, schools of tropical fish and a seemingly infinite amount of conch shells. The majority of our stay was spent embracing the relaxed attitude of the island: lazy walks around the spit, alternating between iced coffees and rum cocktails, sampling bbq from street vendors and paddle-boarding in the warm, shallow waters. Unfortunately, our time on Caye Caulker was cut short by a shortage of housing over Easter weekend and faced with the prospect of nowhere to stay and the elevated cost of everything on the island we chose to move onto Mexico slightly earlier than anticipated. Until we meet again, Belize. Go slow.

Caye Caulker Highlights

· D and Dee’s (nee – Terry’s BBQ): a humble roadside grill boasting the best barbequed meats on the island.

· Caveman Tours: this feel good company chartered our snorkeling tour complete with a charismatic guide who deeply loved the ocean and an excellent lunch.

· Tropical waters: the perfectly warm water and the abundance of sea-life was just perfection.

· Go Slow: just like, the general island vibe of Caye Caulker was so on point.

Tulum, Mexico

We arrived in Mexico, earlier than planned with a plane ticket out of Cancun the following week and no discernible itinerary. Both of us had traveled through Mexico previously and hadn’t factored in spending time there during this trip aside from catching a cheaper flight home. However, faced with a premature exodus from Belize, we both agreed that we wanted to spend the remainder of our trip at one of the most beautiful places along Yucatan Peninsula: Tulum.

The two of us had visited Tulum almost ten years prior and recalled a sleepy seaside town, palm trees and stunning white-sand beaches. A quick scan of the hotel prices and Airbnb’s available gave us the feeling that Tulum had changed a great deal in the last decade. It had, and then some. The coastline has morphed from endless stretch of white sand to an eco-tourist haven packed with exclusive resorts that have mastered the hippy-chic aesthetic.

Our time spent in Tulum was an exercise in trying to not get caught up reminiscing on the past for it has the uncanny ability to leech the present moment of any charm . Mexico has tourism dialled in – the likelihood of discovering a cheap untouched tropical coastline is rapidly fading especially in “tourist friendly” countries such as Mexico. Understand that if you are looking to drop some $$$, eat delicious food and have every need catered to—while still feeling a touch more earthy and “authentic” than resort cities such as Cancun and Playa Del Carmen— then Tulum is still perfect. However, compared to ten years ago the amount of growth is incomprehensible.

Despite our initial shock over the level of development and the horrifically fast speed that our wallets that began to empty at, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. Luck favoured us and we managed to score perhaps the only affordable Airbnb along the beach strip. Dropping all notions of being backpackers at this point, we allowed ourselves the vacation we secretly wanted all along. We spent our days embodying every beach vacation cliché and it was glorious. We rented bikes and leisurely cruised down the road (while dodging all the work vehicles racing down a road clearly not designed for this level of traffic), sated our hunger with smoothie bowls and cheap tacos and quenched our thirst with fresh coconuts and mojito's. Only once did we challenge ourselves to an activity by donning wet suits and diving in the caverns of two fresh water cenotes.

Tulum Highlights

· Affordable cabanas: we were jazzed to score the one of the only budget-friendly and awesome Airbnb on the beach strip.

· Raw Love: a vegan restaurant dotted with hammocks and carved wooden tables. Our breakfasts often turned into all day affairs, reading from the hammocks and indulging in healthy food.

· Scuba-diving: diving in the fresh water cenotes was unlike any of our experiences ocean diving.

· Mojitos: we closed out our final night at a mojito bar that specialized in slanging fresh pressed sugar cane juice with a soulful blues band slaying in the background.

A Parting Note

On our final day we ventured out onto a surprisingly empty beach with cloudless skies and calmer waves. We spent an hour or so swimming in the warm water and saw the secluded paradise we had been seeking all along. Polishing off the dregs of a cold coconut water, we reflected on our adventures. Did we get lucky or unlucky with our timing? Can a perfect, budget-friendly and secluded beach even exist anymore with social media spreading the best of secrets across the globe? Conversely, would we even be able to find a perfect beach without using social media applications? Is it really possible to venture into a place and live simply, leave no trace, while still expecting the rewards of a tropical vacation? Warm showers, clean sheets, and cold drinks? This trip really brought into focus the duplicity in my thinking… What right do I have to demand an empty beach to myself, yet in the same breath shun the notion that I would either have to pay for access to a private beach or have to get my hands dirty to find a secluded location? The Tulums, Maya Bays and Waikiki’s will consistently be discovered and exploited. And for good reason – humans are always going to be seeking out beauty and relaxation. How can I make peace with this as an ecologically conscious traveler, who also at times has the unfortunate tendency to demand that my needs as a westerner be met? Food for thought on the next adventure.

A Moment in Guatemala

Tavi Parusel — Mon, 18 Sep 2017 20:38:19 +0000

A Moment in Guatemala

Intro

After two long years of settling into the comfortable routine of home-life, we were incredibly eager to get out and explore again. A competitive and expensive rental market coupled with commitments to jobs and school meant that a long meandering excursion was out of the question. A vacation then, a holiday — a getaway. We were quite desperate after a notably cold and grey winter that showed no signs of letting up. Our noses turned at the prospect of an all-inclusive style vacation, our hearts tugged us to pursue an epic adventure, while our heads told us to take whatever we can get. Through compromise our plan was formed. Tickets were booked to the affordable yet tropical Guatemala, while we sought to create an itinerary that allowed for as much adventure as possible with a healthy amount of time devoted to relaxing— after all we reasoned, it was only 3 weeks, we needed some indulgences. Thus our trip developed a bit of an identity crisis: part adventure, part vacation. Through the eyes of traveler’s we began to examine just what it is we seek as tourists and how easily the lines between the two are crossed.

Part 1: Guatemala

We shelved our winter clothes, bought matching cheap sunglasses and eagerly said "see ya" to the grey skies of Vancouver. Two uneventful flights and one short layover in Texas at possibly the sleaziest motel we will ever stay in, we landed in Guatemala city bleary eyed and starving. Immediately we regretted not brushing up on our spanish (again). However, just a couple broken spanish-english-hand gestured conversations later we had secured an affordable ride to Antigua and off we went, the densesly populated capital city quickly faded to a spot in the distance.

Antigua, Guatemala.

Antigua is an absolute jewel of a city. Bordered by towering volcanoes and large open swathes of land, smattered with coffee plantations and indigenous communities rich with Mayan traditions. Antigua draws from its surroundings, giving the city a spirited and culturally dynamic energy. The city is full of historical reminders: colonial era buildings line the cobblestone streets. While many official buildings have been restored to recall their former glory, others have left some the ware and tear visible with a charming splash of brightly coloured paint. There is an overall aesthetic to the city that is delightful, quirky, at times grand and undeniably cool. We spent our time in Antigua indulging in incredible Guatemalan coffee, sampling fantastic food and getting lost in the Inception-esque rooms within a courtyard within a building surrounded by another building. While the former capital city has much to offer in terms of beauty, culture, food, drink and goods, it is hard not to notice that Antigua has readily redefined itself as a tourist city. No mistake, we adored every minute we spent there. Yet as we sat atop a rooftop bar drinking locally grown cold brew – it was hard not to feel slightly catered to. While the traveler’s in us yearned for an “authentic experience”, the tourist’s in us wondered if we would we even enjoy the place as much had it not been tended to and cultivated to accommodate tourism?

Antigua Highlights:

· Airbnb: we stayed with a lovely woman named Evelyn who was a true host in every sense of the word.

· Santa Semana: we arrived in Antigua during the wind up to Easter, an exceptionally grand holiday in Central and South America in comparison to North America. Antigua plays an especially large role in the celebrations and visitors from all over Guatemala will migrate to the city for Easter holidays.

· Roots Café: where we returned multiple times to munch on some of the best salads we’ve ever had.

· Café No Se: where we got to cop some of the cool and mysterious energy of the bar while sipping on local beer.

Volcano Redux, Guatemala Edition.

Remember that time we were on a volcano in Chile ( Osorno) and then the volcano beside us (Calbuco) unexpectedly erupted for the first time in 40 years? Yeah, we do too. While we were in Antigua we decided to test our luck again and climb up to the top of Volcano Acatenango and watch the neighboring Volcano Fuego erupt, except this time on purpose. Acatenango towers at a healthy 3,976 meters above sea level and has remained relatively dormant in the last century, barring a small eruption occurring in 1972. Across from Acatenango is the appropriately named Volcano Fuego. Fuego has been almost constantly active at a low level since the Spanish conquests in the Americas. While Fuego is unsafe to climb, volcano enthusiast and hikers alike ascend Acatenango to watch Fuego erupt from a safe distance.

The hike up was incredibly challenging and frustrating. The terrain was primarily loose sand and volcanic rock, which meant that every step up would find you sliding back half a step. Slow, slow upwards progress dragged on for hours, featuring plenty of grumbling and moaning from everyone in our group. However the hustle to the top was infinitely worth the view that greeted us at base camp. Volcano Fuego ushered us in with continual puffs of smoke, while Volcano Agua – the iconic cone seen from Antigua surfaced in the distance, swimming in a sea of clouds. After a short sleep plagued by discomfort and restlessness due to the high altitude our guide woke us just shy of 4 am. We began our morning with a steep and seemingly endless climb in the dark. Just as things were beginning to feel incredibly hard and frustrating, Volcano Fuego treated us with a large explosion and at last in the dark the neon hot lava was visible- a sight that was beyond awe inspiring.

Acatanango Highlights

· The Hike: really anything that wasn’t slogging away, sweating profusely or gasping for air was a highlight.

· The View: the view, the view — oh my god! The view.

· Lava: it really is as cool as you imagine. You go mama nature!!

· Campfire Chats: roasting marshmallows with a group of travelers who had never experienced the joy of frying up sugary goodness and learning about the wide variety of maladies that a pint of Guinness can mend.

Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.

Lake Atitlan. The massive lake is not only the deepest lake in Central America but consistently ranks as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world. A blue jewel, crowned by surrounding volcanoes and towering cliffs dotted with wildflowers. Beyond the physical beauty of the lake, there is also a strong cultural pull. The villages that encase the lakeside are populated by thriving Mayan communities that have a deep spiritual connection to the lake.

They say the lake is a vortex: people come for the weekend and stay for a lifetime. We most certainly agree. The intoxicating, slow living pull of the lake, coupled with a very low cost of living has infected many, and a community of eccentric expatriates, self-proclaimed hermits and spiritually inclined travelers have made the lake their home, primarily settling near the towns of San Pedro and San Marcos de Laguna. The resulting hodge-podge of traditional Mayan communities, Spanish speaking Guatemalan towns and long-term gringo communities is at once amusing, alarming and enchanting and you cannot help but get caught up in it yourself.

We spent an altogether too short time on the lake, watching the sunrise from the dock at our fabulous lakefront Airbnb, indulging in healthy eats at the hippy-haven San Marcos de Laguna, meeting the most fascinating ex-pats in the small town of Tsunana and marveling at the contrast between the exclusive lakefront eco-resorts and the simplistic huts that the locals lived in.

If I were to choose a place from this trip to return to and write about in-depth, it would most definitely be Lake Atitlan. It felt like there were so many stories lurking beneath the surface. There is a mysterious energy to the entire region and once you spend a day and drink the kool-aid it makes total sense that gringos would gravitate and form ultra-spiritual kale communities, or that this body of water would draw together and preserve the traditions of Mayan communities that elsewhere had been ravaged by time and change. There is a lot to discover about the people the live around the lake. What drew each ragtag expat to seek a reclusive life in the hills? What of the strict and at times violent honor code that the locals abide by? What of the simmering tension between the more traditional locals living and working alongside gringos—who no matter how hard they try— have a westernized tendency to be exploitative? From the few days we spent traveling the lakeside towns and chatting to friends and locals we got the sense that there is always more than meets the eye. What I wouldn’t give to be sipping a locally grown coffee, munching on an ethical vegan approved gringo guru treat, while writing about the peoples of Lake Atitlan— every once and a while lifting my gaze to stare at the watery expanse and the volcanoes towering in the distance.

Lake Atitlan Highlights

· Il Giardino: a vegetarian restaurant in San Marcos that served the best-iced coffee and crepes in a quiet and tranquil garden setting.

· Yoga: we took a yoga class at La Paz that had us check our egos and soothe our stiff traveler muscles.

· Adventuring: we embarked on meandering hike up into the hills of Tsuanana with a friend who was just as taken with the mysterious lake and bursting with stories.

· The Food: while we enjoyed a lot of restaurant fare this trip, during our stay on the lake we really appreciated the produce carts and ate the best and freshest avocados and mangos.

· Nature Watching: waking up early to catch the sun rise over the volcanoes

Tikal, Guatemala.

The indelible cultural mark left by the Mayan peoples is felt across the bottom of Mexico, parts of Belize, Honduras, El Salvador and the entirety of Guatemala. Evidence of an ancient and complex society is apparent in the remnants of their architecture, artifacts and Mayan cultural values that continue to this day.

Nowhere is the presence and history of the Mayan peoples more evident than in Guatemala. The Mayans who reside in Guatemala now have resisted powerful forces of change from outsiders for hundreds of years, including attempts at religious conversion by Catholic missionaries. The resilient and vibrant spirit of this ancient culture is very visible in the thriving communities steeped in tradition and craft.

Nestled in the heart of the jungle, Tikal is one of Guatemala’s most popular tourist hotspots — for good reason. These Mayan ruins are the bones of a massive ancient city: a city that became one of the most long-lasting and powerful kingdoms in Mayan history. While some of the structures date back as far as the 4th century BCE, the community reached the apex of its power between 200-900 AD.

Once abandoned, the ancient ruins fell waste to the forces of time and the growth of the jungle, quietly hidden from the world until its discovery in 1850. Parts of Tikal have been excavated and restored through efforts by the Guatemalan government and the University of Pennsylvania. However, most of Tikal— an estimated 60 square kilometers— remains buried, merely hinted at by slopes and mounds protruding from the jungle floor.

The tour we booked entailed a 3am wakeup and dark drive into the jungle. Bleary eyed and groggy we ascended the steps of a temple to watch the sun rise over the ruins of Tikal. The sun rose, however the jungle mists refused to dissipate leaving much of Tikal underneath the cover of a misty grey blanket. While I chose to sleep through the sunrise, others opted to listen to the sounds of the jungle coming to life: a tropical cacophony.

Despite waking at an ungodly hour (and being denied a colourful sunrise), we were thankful to explore the ruins before the crowds of tourist and mid-day heat descended. We spent a good 5 hours walking through the ancient city. The ruins were incredibly impressive and it was awe inspiring to imagine the sheer size of the community that once thrived here and presided for hundreds and hundreds of years. Moreover, the overgrowth of the Jungle flora made the entire site seem more mysterious, vine-covered mounds that hinted at the former glory of a massive civilization.

We stayed in the colourful and charming Flores, a small town located on an island in the middle of Lake Peten Itza.

Tikal Highlights:

· Monkeys: almost all of Tikal got the chance to listen to the prehistoric sounding screams of an entire family of howler monkeys.

· Mayan Temples: how cool is it to see how industrious and impressively architectural former civilizations were?!

· Flores: we wish we had spent more time exploring this island in the middle of the lake.

· Cool Beans: we ate at this tasty and affordable lakeside eatery for every meal of our entire stay.

While our stay in Guatemala was far too short, we spent just enough time to grasp that this is a country we'd love to return to: the people, the nature, the food and the vibrant energy all left us hungry for more. This account is but an amuse-bouche when compared to a seven course meal: not enough time spent, places visited, not enough words written or photos snapped but if our efforts to document can give a taste, then we have done our best.

Onto part two of our adventures: Belize and Mexico

A Moment in Peru

Tavi Parusel — Tue, 26 Apr 2016 22:05:46 +0000

December 2017 1
- Dec 14, 2017 A Moment in Belize and Mexico Dec 14, 2017
September 2017 1
- Sep 18, 2017 A Moment in Guatemala Sep 18, 2017
April 2016 1
- Apr 26, 2016 A Moment in Peru Apr 26, 2016
June 2015 1
- Jun 7, 2015 A Moment In ...Southern Patagonia Jun 7, 2015
May 2015 2
- May 22, 2015 A Moment in the Carretera Austral May 22, 2015
- May 4, 2015 A Moment In....A Volcanic Eruption May 4, 2015
April 2015 4
- Apr 24, 2015 A Moment In...Pichilemu and The Lake District Apr 24, 2015
- Apr 19, 2015 A Moment In...Between Here and There Apr 19, 2015
- Apr 13, 2015 The Long Hard Way to Marquito Apr 13, 2015
- Apr 1, 2015 A Moment In...Santiago Apr 1, 2015

A Moment in Peru

Time flies. Its been over a year since we left Vancouver and set off on our journey to road trip around Chile and Argentina for four months. The most poignant, detailed memories have faded into the hazy glow of nostalgia and we find ourselves fully settled into home-life. Luck was on our side when we arrived home late July— we’ve set up camp in a beautiful apartment with expansive views of the pacific. However, the urge to pack our bags and go is always crawling beneath our skin. While our next adventure(s) remain a dynamic cluster of question marks, half-formed ideas and pinpoints on a map, we’ve decided that we want to continue this project. We feel that Moments of Wander should extend beyond the scope of a road-trip chronicle. Just as we ended our travels with a promise to continue adventuring, we return to this project as two creative people with a desire to capture “moments” through sharing photos, videos, artwork and stories, both far away and at home.

However, before we depart into the uncharted waters of this project, we’d like to take a step back and complete the finale chapter of our South American journey…

Final Moments: Mendoza and Around

Delayed by the theft and overwhelmed by just how massive South America is, our dreams of driving up to Bolivia and exploring the salt flats proved too ambitious this time around. We tacked that adventure onto the ever-growing list entitled “South America Part Two: Everything We Missed”. Instead we spent a wonderful week and a half chasing the sun north to Mendoza Argentina, to indulge in malbec, steak and pick up Tavi’s temporary passport. On the way, we discovered some truly fantastic camp spots in the rocky desert foothills of the Andes.

Peru

Our final two weeks were spent in direct contrast to the preceding three and a half months: we ditched the van, our bags of creature comforts and set our sights on a whirlwind tour of Peru as backpackers. It is worth mentioning that selling the car was almost as painstaking and laughable as buying it, but not quite as entertaining to tell the second time around. As much as we absolutely adore road tripping, our two weeks in Peru reminded us that it was a relief not to worry about our ride breaking down, or how many hours we’d have to drive to get from A to B.

Peru is a beautifully rich and complex country. It is home to a thriving mix of cultures, including the oldest civilization in the Americas— predating even the Incas. Once a hidden gateway for rulers of the Incan Empire, Machu Pichu is Peru’s most famous tourist destination, drawing travelers from all over the world into the high mountains of Cusco. Peru’s geography is also extremely diverse— arid deserts stretch for hundreds of kilometers along the coast, the towering Andes reach heights more impressive than it’s neighbors to the south while to the east, the deep lush jungles spill over into Brazil. This long and slim country is host to twenty-eight of the worlds thirty-two existing climates and this allows for an incredible range of biodiversity and stunning landscapes. A culturally, spiritually and visually stimulating country, we enjoyed our brief adventure immensely and have already envisioned returning again.

Lima

Our time in Lima was short, but the city left an impression on us. With over ten million people calling it home, Lima is one of the largest cities in South America. The contrast of the huge bustling city with the relative solitude we had experienced most of our trip was almost overwhelming, yet very exciting. Due to the realities of unaddressed poverty in such extreme density, crime rates in Lima are high and as such, we were quite limited in our exploration of the city. We stayed in Miraflores and Barranco, affluent districts lined with palm trees and teaming with shops, restaurants and hotels. Lima is renown for its vibrant food scene ranging traditional dishes to refined global fare and we made the most of it during our stay— eating and drinking the most divine ceviche and pisco sours that we can only dream of now.

One question we are continuously asked is why we chose not to visit Machu Pichu. For us it boiled down to three things: we simply did not have enough time or money left to explore Cusco the way we wanted to and secondly, it was high season in that part of the country and we craved the solitude we had been afforded for most of our trip. Finally, Machu Pichu is yet another reason we are motivated to come back and continue our adventures. Two weeks is far too short of a time to explore Peru and we feel we have barely scratched the surface of this beautiful country.

Huaraz

Once again the mountains called us home. We headed north to a spectacular section of the Andes called the Cordillera Blanca. This region boasts a striking concentration of 6000m peaks, deep valleys and stunning glacial lakes. We purchased bus tickets from Lima to Huaraz, dreading the seventeen-hour drive. However, our reasonably priced first class tickets afforded us a much better ride than our previous experiences on overnight busses — Canada’s Greyhound line certainly has a lot of catching up to do. We sat on plush seats that fully reclined and entertained ourselves with personal screens containing an impressive selection of current movies. The long drive was over in no time and we stepped off the bus feeling distinctly more refreshed than anticipated.

The city of Huaraz lies in a small valley surrounded by white giants. However, clocking in at more than 3,000 meters above sea level, even the valley requires acclimatization. Mild symptoms of altitude sickness become apparent fairly quickly and it is humbling to realize that no matter how young or healthy you consider yourself acclimatizing to high altitude is not something you can push through. The lack of oxygen played havoc with our sleep and left us feeling weak, swollen and prone to headaches. Luckily, the human body is incredibly capable at adapting. Huaraz is not a pretty city, but it is pulsing with life. The narrow streets are full of honking cars and colorfully garbed people at stands hawking fruit, vegetables, grilled meats and traditional Peruvian ware geared for tourists. Here we fell in love with the traditionally dressed Peruvian women in their beautiful coloured dresses and tall hats delicately perched above their long braided hair. In Peru, we observed a cultural depth and tenacity not yet spoiled by the reaches of western society.

Laguna 69

Short on time, we committed to a day hike the following morning in hopes of acclimatizing for a multi-day trek as quickly as possible. Our tour left early in the morning and drove us at breakneck speed into the mountains. The dusty, bumpy road twisted haphazardly and we pondered if our tiny van would have been able to handle Peru at all. The hike up to Laguna 69 was through a lush green valley dotted with wildlife and cascading waterfalls tumbling from the bordering hills. The higher we climbed, the more stunning the scenery became and the more effort each footstep took. Once you are at altitude, climbing a set of stairs takes the wind out of you. After the better part of four hours we reached Laguna 69, our heartbeats pounding in our ears. Pictures are worth a thousand words and yet our photos and words combined fail to do it justice— Laguna 69 is one of the most stunning bodies of water we will ever lay eyes on. A sapphire blue, intensely saturated, richer than the sky and surrounded by the majestic 6000m peaks of the Cordillera Blanca. We caught our breath and basked in sun, staring in awe at the mesmerizing blue depths of the lake until we finally had to leave.

Santa Cruz Valley

Our hiking appetites whetted, we returned to Huaraz determined to embark on a longer hike. We set our sights on walking through the Santa Cruz Valley, a 50km trek that is ranked one of the best hiking trails in the world. The former ancient Incan road climbs through sparsely populated mountain villages, winding rivers, bright blue lagunas and wide valleys surrounded by the highest peaks of the Cordillera Blanca. Since Huaraz is a city geared towards the thousands of tourist hikers passing through each year; there are no shortage of companies offering guided tours and plush “adventuring” experiences. Although we were tempted by the promise of having our gear carried by sweet little donkeys, our tents set up and our meals cooked in advance of our arrival, our wallets simply would not allow for it. Moreover, having grown up on the west coast of Canada, both of us were introduced to hiking and camping at a young age and the notion of such a short trek needing the four star treatment didn’t sit right with us! We quickly found a map of the hike online and a bus route to Vaqueria, which would allow us to hike the trail in the opposite direction of the guided tours, giving us the chance to experience a quieter hike and the added bonus of getting the hardest climb out of the way early.

Day 1

Squished into a local bus, we took a harrowing drive in the dark hours of the morning. What we saved in money we paid for in anxiety as we careened up a tiny dirt road cut into the side of the mountain. At each hair-raising turn you could look down hundreds of meters. We hung on to our chairs while the locals looked unfazed, chatting on their phones and even typing on a laptop. After thanking our lucky stars we made it to Vaqueria without falling off of a cliff, we set about finding the trailhead. This was trickier than it sounds as the first leg of the trip meanders through tiny villages whose dirt paths look identical to the trail. Thankfully this trek is quite popular and the local children would run and ask for candy, before pointing us in the right direction. As we gained altitude we began to see the white tips of the tall peaks that the Cordillera Blanca is famous for. Lured by their majesty, we picked up our pace, climbing until the sun threatened to fall and it was time to set up camp. Once the sun goes down, the temperatures dive into the negatives, so we quickly bundled ourselves into our sleeping bags and fell asleep almost instantly—only to wake up again and again throughout the night because high altitudes and a good nights sleep are negatively correlated.

Day 2

After a not so restful sleep, we packed up our tent and got ourselves ready for the longest day of hiking. Our next campsite lay in heart of the Santa Cruz Valley, on the other side of the Punta Union pass. The Punta Union pass clocks in at 4750m above sea level and the climb up to its crest is incredibly humbling and frustrating yet infinitely rewarding. The lack of oxygen reduced us to a slow and steady crawl that had our hearts pounding harder than if you were running on a treadmill at top speed. The last hundred meters were the hardest, verging on impossible until you step over the edge and are greeted with the panorama below. The green valley, dotted with small lakes and all around us the towering 6000m peaks of the Cordillera Blanca, the highest tropical mountain range in the world. At so high up, it feels unfathomable that the tops of those mountains are another 2000m away and the worlds tallest another 2000m on top of that. One begins to see how the 8000m have an irresistible pull on individuals… After a long lunch spent soaking in our surroundings, we descended into the valley for another uneasy sleep.

Days 3 & 4

The following morning we were awoken by the noise of a cow nudging its head into our tent. The amount of stray livestock we encountered throughout our trip is impressive, especially roaming around in the middle of the mountains at 3000+meters. We left camp early as we had decided the night prior to make a side trip to the Alpamayo base camp. We cut across the edge of the valley and along a smaller side valley until we reached the base camp. Here we were gifted stunning views of a crystal blue lake and white peak of Mount Alpamayo. Short on time, we resisted the urge to set up camp and spend the night and trekked back to the Santa Cruz trail. A devastating landslide in 2012 has left one side of the valley washed out and covered in sand, which made walking irritatingly difficult. However, nature is resilient and already the area is starting to be covered in re-growth. Lower in altitude now, we began to feel stronger with each step— just as our feet began to turn on us and blister from so long days of walking.

Our final day was a long descent out of the valley. The trail cut along the side of the hill, following the twist and turns of a swiftly flowing river. The steady descent, coupled with our sore feet left us anxious to be finished. However, the company of a lovely stray dog who stumbled upon us early in the morning and stuck with us the whole way down cheered us up. The little munchkin tried to hop into our van as we departed and we were devastated to say goodbye to our canine friend. As we departed, we turned back and looked at the trail: a small opening between two hills — no indication of the magical landscape inside. We promised ourselves we would be back one day to explore this area further.

Mancora

Two busses, twenty hours, countless movies and two terrible sandwiches later, we stepped off the bus into the sweltering heat of a beach town called Mancora. Here we spent one wonderful week doing nothing but eating, drinking, swimming and relaxing in the sun. Naturally no one is as interested in these details, so let’s us just say it was blissfully uneventful, exactly what we needed after the previous four months of adventure. A well-earned holiday from our holiday. If we had to wax poetic about one aspect of Mancora, it is not the beaches or the palm trees that has us yearning for more (for truthfully, we’ve seen better elsewhere), it would be the cheap, fresh and absolutely delectable ceviche. We ate at the same restaurant, choosing the same type of ceviche and washing it down with the same fresh passionfruit smoothie every day and if we could be eating that now and forever, we would.

A Moment Afterwards

It is a bit strange, very nostalgic and somewhat sad trying to recollect the memories of an adventure gone by. We think of all the things we did and wish we could be doing them now. We remember all the things we missed out on and yearn to be back so we can try to make them happen again. This trip was an incredible experience, an arduous adventure and a true testament to how much we enjoy spending time with one another, doing the things we love best! We are thrilled that we put the effort into documenting our trip the way we have, not only as a concrete source to turn to when the memories get hazy but also as a means of inspiration to fuel our future moments of adventure.

A Moment In ...Southern Patagonia

Tavi Parusel — Sun, 07 Jun 2015 19:11:22 +0000

A Brief Note on Highs and lows

When you are traveling everything is intensified. The experience is a tantalizingly tumultuous process of condensing a vast array of novel experiences into a relatively short six days, six weeks , six months...and so on. As such, the highs are infinitely higher and the lows acutely deeper. You laugh longer, love harder, live faster. However, sometimes things happen and for a moment, before perspective and space lend a delicate hand, you think everything is ruined and absolutely nothing could be worse. The convoluted emotional time frame of travel makes the lows cut incredibly deep, but you find yourself picking up the pieces far quicker than expected. There are too many things to be grateful for. You are not at home. You are not bound to the routine of 9-5. You have countless novel experiences at your finger tips. In the very least, you are in a country where a quality bottle of Malbec costs under 5$. So it's really not all that bad.

Recently, we were robbed two times in 24 hours in a town that has a deceptive aroma of security: a picturesque mountain town straight out of a Swiss fairy tale with a Latin twist dipped in luxury. Had we researched this place a little more, perhaps we would have known driving with foreign plates was the equivalent of holding up a neon "Rob Me" sign. Had we not been overly relaxed, from 2 months of driving around Chile and Southern Patagonia where our van was safely left overnight while we hiked, perhaps things would have been different. As it stands, we did not know these things and lured into a false sense of security with the abundance of expensive chocolate shops and artesian breweries, we left our car briefly in broad day light and returned to find our window smashed and everything of value gone. Twice. The thieves were fast, slick and probably went on to rob plenty more tourists and unlucky civilians the same day. While in line to make a statement for the passive and unhelpful police, we met a couple who had their car robbed when it was parked but a block from the station. As I said, traveling intensifies everything. Losing cameras, computers and passports sucks the life out of you. However, one of the finest aspects of journeying is meeting other people and exchanging horror stories. Because chances are that the terrible thing which happened to you, happened to someone else as well. And somehow, that makes things more tolerable. It's not my place to wax poetic about whether or not we deserve to be robbed, even though the thieves probably assumed we are much wealthier than we actually are, because indeed, we are privileged enough to travel in the first place. There are only so many tears you can cry, or revenge fantasies you can entertain before you have to acknowledge that things are just things and with time, ( and thankfully, insurance money) can be replaced.

Naturally,losing the photos and videos is the most painful wound to nurse, and one that based on previous experience, will always sting a little. Having this blog has made the process harder and easier all at once. In a way, this project was a blessing: it has allowed us to salvage many of the pictures we took along the way in meaningful form. However, this has also cursed us with a sadness that reaches a little deeper than simply losing your camera in the middle of a vacation. Indeed, the experience of this trip is rather inextricably bound to our blog: we wanted to make something of our travels. We aimed to have our passion for travel collude with a passion project and when our primary means to create this was taken, a little bit of the heart of this adventure was too. Moreover, our little home was invaded and violated, and our safe adventure cocoon a little less secure. There is nothing pleasant about seeing your bed torn apart and covered in broken glass.

However, the speedy travel timeline to recovery is well under way. We are reevaluating our itinary and direction as we wait for official documents to be sent to us and that's not a bad thing. Half the fun in traveling is saying okay, screw the plan lets do this instead. This hasn't been the easiest trip but it has been indescribably rewarding and we wouldn´t do anything differently ( aside from leaving valuables in the car).While we morn the loss of our photos, the hours of film footage and the beautiful, never to be seen time-lapses, we are thankful for what we could save. All our photos from the striking Torres Del Paine national park are lost. Yet, that was but final piece of our venture into Southern Patagonia. We were able to save pictures from El Chalten, El Calafate and the infamous highway Ruta 40. While they lack the quality and resolution of those saved on the forsaken laptop, the beauty of this landscape more than compensates for the quality of those salvaged from our phones.

Without further ado, we present to you our adventures farther down south.

A Moment In...Southern Patagonia

From the few photos we have, I will attempt construct what was perhaps the most beautiful and enjoyable section of our travels thus far. It appears the farther south you drive the more stunning and wild things become. We began to cut our Patagonian teeth on the Carretera Austral, but nothing really prepares you for the jaw dropping sights of Fitz Roy or the Torres Del Paine jutting into the sky while the Patagonian wind whips around you with an incomprehensible force. Although we have not completed the trip yet, I have a strong feeling that Southern Patagonia will be the place we will yearn for the most when our feet are back to walking the familiar path back home. While our time there was a constant battle against the approaching winter with a huge wind chill factor, the scenery eclipsed even the coldest of days with jaw dropping wonder. The region is one that deserves far more time to explore than we gave it. In time ( and most definitely in summer), I believe we will return to do so. It is simply too beautiful not to.

Our adventures in Southern Patagonia can be broken down into the following three governing factors:

1) The endless flat Pampa

2) The startlingly sharp mountain peaks cutting into the sky

3) The Wind .... The relentless Patagonian Wind.

I begin with #3 as it thoroughly permeated the experiences of #1 and #2.

The Patagonian wind is something you first experience with senses other than touch, before it slams into you with incredible force and then it is a task to feel anything but the wind. First you hear it, a far off roar quickly escalating into a strange symphony of jet engine thunder, avalanche rumbles, accented by the sweet but shockingly swift rush through the tops of the swaying trees. You can see it too. Up on the mountains the wind is locked in a furious dance with the snow, whirling madly in ascending spirals that dazzle you until they whip you in the face, stinging like a thousand tiny daggers. Strong enough in fact, to rip the pegs out of the tent and flip it over with you sleeping inside. Talk about a rude awakening...

I digress.

Our first introduction to the wind happened the moment we crossed the border into Argentina and settled ourselves on the opposite side of Lago General Carrera , now called Lago Buenos Aires this side of the Andes. Falling asleep in our tin can of a car with the wind rattling around you with such force, such noise that in the dark you feel you are out at sea, mere minutes from capsizing. After that night we learned the importance of always parking next to some form of shelter, lest you want feel like you are sleeping in a blender. The wind did not abate when we awoke the next day, and it chased us with a ferocity for the rest of the day while we set out on the mercifully recently paved section of Ruta 40.

Here we return start of it all, factor #1: Driving Through Pampa on Ruta 40

Running from the northern tip of Argentina to the southernmost point, the highway is the longest in the country and one of the longest in the world. It has earned a reputation for being desolate and isolated: a lonely dirt road cutting into an empty landscape. In many ways, there is not much to be said about driving the highway. You pass few cars and the often the scenery does not change for hours. Yet driving it is an experience unlike others, and perhaps returning home to our populated freeways will seem dull in comparison.

Things we've learned driving Ruta 40 down South (and then back up again):

1) Our car is not aerodynamic whatsoever: a sudden gust will literally push us into the opposing lane.

2) There are very very few cars driving the Ruta 40 down south, but you better believe the force of a passing truck coupled with the force of the wind will knock your side view mirrors out of place.

3) The Pampa landscape - flat, sparsely vegetated desert- offers no buffers against the wind. Furthermore, driving through the Pampa becomes an exercise in staying sane for there will be hours the pass pedal to the floor on the highway and you will appear to have driven nowhere.

4) The original, unpaved Ruta 40 occasionally separates from the improved highway and winds along beside it. At one point on the drive we were diverted to the older highway and instead of feeling more authentic we thanked our lucky stars for pavement, as the original is scarcely big enough for one car and riddled with potholes and large stones embedded in hard mud.

5) In total we have driven roughly 2000 km so far on the Ruta 40, and every time we diverged from the flatlands to reunite with the mountains was more beautiful than the last.

And finally we come to factor # 2: the beautifully jagged peaks of Southern Patagonia .

Our first stop on our Southern Patagonia adventure was El Chalten. A small but artfully designed tourist destination tucked into the valley below the Fitz Roy massif. Our first few days were spent in a constant drizzle and low cloud cover that obscured any hope of seeing the famous peaks. There were day hikes, waterfalls and wild-camps that were equal parts enjoyable but frustrating, because really at the end of the day you just want to see that damn mountain and pretending otherwise in winter weather just isn't going to cut it. For myself at least, Tavi is blessed with a little more patience and possesses a little more Vancouver tolerance for rain.With time slipping through our fingertips and with the pressing knowledge that we still have further south to go, we set out on an overnight hike towards Lago Los Tres in hopes that at some point during the next 24 hours we might get a glimpse.

And we did.

Just as we ascended the most difficult ( and incredibly snowy) leg of the trek. The clouds lifted, the sun peaked through and the Fitz Roy massif reared its granite head, surrounded by colony of impressively sharp shark teeth peaks. The sight is suddenly worth the wet feet, the less than stellar weather and the fact that the wind is blowing the snow into your face is such a strong force it stings.

This idea of the landscape usurping the experience of bad weather followed us South as we continued our adventures. El Calafate greeted us with stormy conditions but the opportunity to witness glacier Perito Moreno was more than enough motivation to persevere. At 250km squared, Perito Moreno is actually one of the smaller glaciers in the Southern Patagonian ice field , however it is large enough to pull a gasp from your lips when you witness the seemingly endless ice jutting out into the lake . The height reaches a whopping 70 meters above the water line and we were informed it dips another 120m below the lake at points. Moreover, it is one of the few glaciers in Patagonia that is not receding, therefore, impressively large chunks break off and crash into the lake with incredible force and noise. A striking phenomenon caused by the newly forming ice pushing forward from the back of the glacier. In the middle, the glacier advances up to 2 meters a day- that's over 700 meters year. We marvelled at these facts while on a mini trek on the glacier . The experience was a tad touristy and slow paced, and perhaps we were a bit jaded to the novelty having both walked on glaciers before- however the sheer size of the beast was enough to render us speechless and forgive the cumbersome pace of our 20 person "trek".

Our final push South found us crossing back into Chile to experience the famously beautiful of Torres Del Paine national park. Luck was on our side weather-wise and the notoriously socked in peaks were perfectly visible practically the whole time. It absolutely pains us that no photos survived this adventure- in our humble oppinion, they were some of the most beautiful we had taken thus far. This was one of the times having a car was an incredible bonus . The park is huge and there are wonderful vantage points that can be found winding through that gravel road that would be missed if you lacked the transportation. Waterfalls, rolling hills, impossibly blue glacier lakes and the impressive rosey granite towers surrounded by black tipped mountains . There is a reason why this park sees more than 150,000 visitors a year - and we were lucky enough to have the park almost entirely to ourselves. Perhaps having our photos stolen is a sign we need to return again.

One photo did survive the theft, not of the towers unfortunately but you can get a sense of the icy blue lakes and the sculptured mountains that comprise the landscape.

I apologize for any typos or if this post is somewhat lacking in structure. Composing on iPhone notes is a tedious and carpal tunnel inducing and other such first world gripes...

Nevertheless, thank you for reading . We did what we could to put this post together . Moreover, we are still pretty dang stoked to be on the road in South America, now we head North to warmer weather.

A Moment in the Carretera Austral

Tavi Parusel — Fri, 22 May 2015 21:42:45 +0000

A Moment In...The Carretera Austral

"The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun". Christopher McCandless

Like most things in life, travelling by car has its ups and downs. The advantages are many: pace and direction is entirely at our leisurely control. Furthermore, we have privilege of being able to move our home any which way we please and be guaranteed a cozy place to sleep at night. On the other hand, there are long distances, unpaved potholed roads, and mechanical failures that are apt to puncture our happy travel bubble and leave us frantic as the air rushes out, searching for mechanics, gas stations, or scanning the map for another route all together. Our slow zigzag from Santiago to Puerto Montt was a pleasant meander: lingering in the places that pleased us, or packing up and moving on when we felt the road calling. Yet it wasn't until we drove onto the ferry heading south towards Hornopiren that we truly experienced the joy of driving in and of itself. The Southern Highway, also known as Ruta 7 or The Carretera Austral introduced us to the iconic allure of the open road. Around each corner lay something more beautiful than the last, the scenery growing wilder the farther South we drove. The Carretera Austral runs 1240 km through remote and rural Patagonia. Construction on the highway began in 1976, while the final connecting road was completed in 2000. The highly isolated road winds through increasingly rough and impressive terrain: glaciers, steep mountains, forests and fjords. Recently, there has been an effort to pave the highway, turning the mix of pothole marked gravel and mud into smooth asphalt. An astronomical task that involves blasting huge rock faces away, the construction proved more of a hindrance to our drive, as the road conditions in construction zones were almost impassable on our tiny set of wheels. The newly paved sections proved to be swiftly flowing luxurious vacations from the slow rattling crunch of gravel under tires. Yet the gravel adds to the allure. There is something so fiercely wild and thrillingly isolated about the Carretera Austral ... perhaps the closest you will ever feel to nature while driving on a highway. On our drive down, we paused in many stunning locations and had we the time we would have stopped at many more. Yet nothing compares to the feeling of driving this road, this savagely beautiful feat of mankind cutting through the heart of the outdoors.

Part one: Ferry to Hornopiren and Beyond

We began our journey by sea. A short ferry in the damp evening mists brought us to Hornopiren, a small town teaming with birds, fish and the quiet energy that suggests life goes on as a day to day matter here. We spent two nights camped on the dewy grass beside a river that bled out into the sea, before embarking on a second, longer ferry to Leptepu. The three-hour journey was a sunny albeit chilly affair, sweeping through the fjords, while tall cliffs ripe with rainforest foliage loomed up beside us and porpoises played in our wake. Finally, after docking and a quick drive to the opposite inlet, we boarded our final ferry to Caleta Gonzalo and the northern entrance of Park Pumalin. Tall trees, wild seas and the snaking gravel road began to stir in us the feeling that we were headed far away from cities and infrastructure with which we were accustomed.

Part two: Pumalin Park and Chaiten

Despite being born and raised in eternally drizzling Vancouver, I utterly loathe the rain with every cold moisture-hating fibre of my being: it dampens my clothes, my mood and my desire to step foot outside to appreciate anything natural. Perhaps the surroundings I have grown up with have faded and become unappreciated in the way that all familiar stimuli recede unnoticed into the background. Indeed, the lush effects of water on Vancouver vegetation have long gone ignored by me in favour of complaining about having to wear rain boots and being pressed up against every musty damp backpack while on the bus. Yuck.

Our foray into Park Pumalin was a much-needed dose of rainforest: so green, so lush and novel enough to remind me that where there is lots of rain, there is plenty of life. Park Pumalin is comprised of nearly 800,000 acres of private nature reserve courtesy of the conservation efforts of Doug Tompkins (formerly of The North Face). When you settle into the thick of this park you get the sense that this is what nature should look like at its healthiest. Every leaf, every tree, every fern and crawling vine grow to incredible sizes in the most vibrant shades of green. The vegetation is impossibly lush, and beyond that, the panoramic views are a dazzling 360 degrees of rolling hills, glaciers, volcanoes and rivers, while the Pacific crashes along its western shores. The park has many hikes and different places to camp, and an overall design so tasteful and subtle that you cannot help but wish that more millionaires with a vested interest in exploring and conservation would decide to invest in the creations of parks. Indeed, Doug Tompkins and his foundation Tompkins Conservation have taken on the initiative to create more national parks in Patagonia, with a focus on conserving and recovering wildlife, vegetation and implement a movement within Chilean and Argentinean farming towards organic gardening and sustainability.

Housed within the boundaries of Pumalin Park is Volcano Chaiten. The volcano is unobtrusive from a distance, save but a little steam curling from its peak to meet the clouds. However, as you draw near you bear witness to the incredible extent of the devastation left from its most recent eruption. In 2008, with little warning the long dormant Volcano Chaiten erupted for the first time in over 9000 years. At one point during the eruptive phase, the ash column reached as high as 30 kilometres into the sky, over twice the height of the smoke plume produced during the explosion we witnessed on Volcano Calbuco. Pyroclastic flows and mudslides wreaked havoc on the surrounding forest and deposited up to a meter of mud and ash on the nearby town bearing its namesake. We hiked the volcano with more than a little trepidation in our hearts, our encounter with Calbuco a little too fresh in our minds. The short yet relentlessly steep hike is a moving, visceral lesson in the dichotomy of the destructive power of nature, and the incredible life force of the earth. Grey trees, robbed of their leaves by the blast, line the slopes as far as the eye can see. You can almost feel the force of the blast as you walk over horizontal corpses of vertical forest and debris flung far from home. Once we stepped onto the rim of the caldera, the extent of the damage came into focus: the trails of the mudflows extending out for kilometres until they meet the sea. Nevertheless, it was inspiring to notice how much has come back to life in less than ten years. Green bushes and shrubs have exuberantly pushed their way back into the grey palate, while emerald vines have wound themselves up the dead trees as if to return their leaves. The town of Chaiten too has bounced back, after temporarily being "shut down" by government post eruption. Our good fortune brought us to a hostel at the same time as a lively and charming bunch of travellers with a passion for good food: roast beef, crepes and home made bread were among the concoctions inspired in the warm kitchen. We savoured the moments of camaraderie and gourmet group cooking, a far cry from the silent pasta affairs that usually populate hostel kitchens.

part Three: La Junta, puyuhuapi, and queulat national park

The road from Chaiten swept us off our feet with ever changing scenery. We battled against increasingly poor road conditions, as construction imposed restrictions on when you could drive on the highway and left the pre-paved sections a muddy mess of potholes, puddles and sharp stones. Often we would drive to the beginning of a construction zone and be forced to exercise our patience by waiting until our direction of traffic was allowed to cross the one lane zone. Yet the natural surroundings proved to be a thrilling distraction, even the smoothest sections were broken up by our need to pull over and marvel at the views. Towering mountains dusted in snow, with a fringe of red as the tree tops celebrated the end of fall. Glacier fed rivers rushed beside us until the road led us a fjord , momentarily reuniting us with the sea. Departing Chaiten, we cruised through to La Junta, and from there we explored oceanside Puyuhuapi, until we reached the damp and rich rainforest of Queulat National Park. Beyond this, the scenery began change, turning from mountains and lush greenery into a dryer climate: arid rock, desert, and endless farmland, marking the beginnings of our foray into Pampa.

part Four: Coyhaique

Most of the towns we passed through were of the small and isolated kind. Humbly set against stunning natural backdrops, only a small smattering of tiny houses and farms dotted the landscapes, chimneys emitting a comforting cloud of smoke and perhaps one, maybe two small markets to purchase food at. Further down, Coyhaique becomes a mecca in the far south for all the things you start to miss: food, gas and internet. Having all the trappings of a larger town, and storefronts geared to outdoorsy tourists, it was pleasant to be able to shop around, sip real espresso (in lieu of Nescafe) and abuse the wifi to plan the next leg of our journey. Despite the denser population, Coyhaique still maintains a beautifully wild energy. It is nicely situated in the foothills of granite and snow covered peaks, with expansive farmland and pampa curling at its feet. We took the opportunity to recharge here and gear up for the next part of the drive, and our inevitable cross into Argentina.

Part five: Cerro Castillo

Cerro Castillo was an adventure of shape and colour. We entered the Cerro Castillo National Reserve just as dusk was beginning to hit the mountains and kiss them with the dying colours of sunset. The mountains were a veritable feast for the eyes, varying rock shapes, geological lines and snow capped peaks. Sometimes our "wild camps" are simply a stop between here and there: arrive at dark and hit the road straight after a rushed breakfast. On other occasions, we happen upon places that simply beg for us to stay and appreciate the surroundings. We stumbled upon such a spot at the beginning of the reserve and happily nestled our car underneath a waterfall, surrounded by rock walls in every direction and a sky that quickly dissolved from dusk into the faint light of millions of stars. This was the first location that truly began to remind us that winter is coming. The water froze on our dishes after washing them, and no matter how much down was piled on, neither of us could truly beat the cold. On the following morning, we embarked on a day hike in the direction of Cerro Castillo, the cold and our urge to get down south quickly negating the option of the 5 day circuit. Although chilly, our hike was an intense but highly enjoyable adventure.The colours of the valley spoke of the coming winter, the reds, orange and yellows beginning to fade into brown. Cerro Castillo ( Castle Hill) certainly lives up to its name. A towering sculpture of a mountain,comprised of sharp points cutting into the sky. A stone fortress that looked majestic from every angle, we couldn’t help ourselves from taking picture after picture.

Part six: Lago General Carrera

Weary from our hike and sullen at the return to gravel and the prospect of driving another 200km through more construction, we hit a fork in the road. Our final destination on the Carretera Austral was Rio Tranquillo and the Marble Caves. The highway does indeed wind down further south towards Villa O'Higgens and the ice fields, however we had long ago set our sights on the Marble Caves as the denouement of our Carretera Austral excursion. Spurred on by our apprehension and some well intentioned yet misinformed advice from a fellow traveller, we chose to take a ferry across Lago General Carrera thinking we could see the caves just as easily from Chile Chico. The boat ride was surprisingly long and the waves much larger than you would expect from a lake, but then again Lago General Carrera is hardly a small pond. Spanning the border between Chile and Argentina and reaching a maximum depth of 590m, the lake is formerly of glacier origin, lending to its striking icy blue hue that seems made to reflect light. Upon arrival, we were devastated to find that reaching the Marble Caves from Chile Chico was a much more impractical and expensive venture and found the prospect of backtracking another 160km only to return this way again equally unpleasant. Instead, we swallowed our disappointment and turned our attention to collecting ourselves and organizing Marquito for his first border crossing into Argentina. Chile Chico benefits from a microclimate that allows for 300 days of sun out of a full year. We languished in the good weather for several days, the hassle of international car insurance and exchanging money less bothersome with the rays of sun casting a warm ethereal light on the lapping shores of the lake.

Up Next: We set our sights on the iconic Ruta 40 and all that Southern Patagonia has to offer!

A Moment In....A Volcanic Eruption

Tavi Parusel — Tue, 05 May 2015 00:44:31 +0000

A Moment In...A Volcanic Eruption

The most important lessons we have learned this trip are that nothing goes according to plan, ever. Perhaps more pressingly, we have gleaned that there is a strong need for balance that governs each turn on the path before us: for every stroke of bad luck we encounter there is an equally powerful silver lining around the corner. Case in point ... experiencing a natural disaster first hand and emerging with an incredible story and some once in lifetime footage.

It's astonishing the amount of natural beauty packed into Chile. This long thin country sewn to the rest of the continent by the Andes, serves as an impressive example of how beautiful the earth is, and how utterly wild and fierce Mother Nature is when she wants to be. April 22nd found us winding our way up the steep slopes of majestic Volcano Osorno. We had spent the morning staring out at the incredible emerald waters of Lago Todos Los Santos, the silhouette of Osorno looming behind us. Having spent the better part of a week admiring its height and iconic shape, we made the decision to drive up to the top. Once we had driven up the multitude of switchbacks, pushing Marquito to the verge of overheating, we parked at the end of the road and hiked up to get a better view. Golden hour was upon us, and the beginnings of sunset kissed the world below, turning an already stunning view into a veritable feast for the eyes brushed with yellows, pinks and gold. Despite having the makings of a sunset that you can languish in till darkness, our adventure took a turn for the dramatic. A flicker in the corner of our peripheries directed us to a large and dynamic cloud of smoke emerging from neighbouring Volcano Calbuco. Formerly a tall but unassuming grey peak that we had neglected to appreciate in favour of the picturesque Osorno, Calbuco began to erupt in front of our eyes.

Later we would learn that the eruption had occurred entirely without warning. Later we would learn that Calbuco had been considered dormant for the past 4 decades. Later we would learn that Chile contains over 90 active volcanoes. Later we would learn that Calbuco ranks in the top 3 most dangerous volcanoes in the country. At the time our feet were frozen, eyes fixated on the growing cloud with a potent mixture of fear and awe. The hour spent on a volcano watching the adjacent one erupt will forever be etched into our memories, and as we will learn, will provide a powerful lens through which to view all the future volcanoes we encounter. The following hours flew by, now a hazy but emotional memory, heavily steeped in adrenaline, wonder and fear. There was a time we expected to be stranded on Osorno. However, as we watched the frightened park ranger pack up in haste and race down the slopes, we decided to risk driving towards the smoke and attempt a descent. For fear of sounding like a Hollywood exaggeration, the drive down appeared like some apocalyptic vision of hell: black acrid smoke obscured everything while smoking bits of rock rained down, ferociously ricocheting off our windshield. There was a moment during the twisting race downwards, when the ash started to sting our eyes and burn our throats, that we both truly understood the meaning of a life and death situation...that our steering wheel was starting to emit smoke simultaneously only served to pound the message in further. With a smoking wheel, we sped to the nearest town outside of the endangered zone, racing the black cloud and lighting strikes looming ominously above.

Perhaps this is the most dramatic example of our penchant for winding up in highly unlucky situations, only to be whisked into safety at the hands of good chance. We had meant to camp at Lagos Todos Los Santos that night, and had we not decided to check out Osorno instead, our drive out and chances of being stranded would have been much more grave. Luck also came to us in the form of kindness, as we were welcomed into the family home of a incredibly genuine resident of Puerto Octay, giving us food and a place to sleep for the night.

There are certain experience that defy the descriptive power of words, and this certainly rates as one of them. For fear of rambling on and getting nowhere near an accurate description, I will let Tavi's stunning footage do the rest of the talking.

Up Next: Little Marquito with his quirks, tiny wheels and 2WD take on the wild and mostly unpaved Carretera Austral!

A Moment In...Pichilemu and The Lake District

Tavi Parusel — Sat, 25 Apr 2015 00:08:12 +0000

A Moment In...Pichilemu and The Lake District

We planned on writing a lovely account of our drive south through the Lake District to accompany the photos that we took. However, our trip seems to be filled with highly dramatic encounters that keep interrupting this process. So we have chosen to scrap the post and show you the pictures with only a brief description of each place …(we imagine that you’d rather hear about our escape from an erupting Volcano than our relaxing days by the beach, and nature walks anyways).

Pichilemu

Pichilemu is a sleepy little surf town on the coast of Chile. Palm trees, sandy beaches and huge swells pepper the shores, often shrouded in a heavy mist while the sun beats down from above. We spent several days in Pichilemu waiting for our car to be repaired. Our anxiety over the state of Marquito was wonderfully countered by the relaxed energy of the town, drowning out our worries in sunshine, freshly fried empanadas, good conversations and cheap wine. After several days of languishing in the sun, a new battery and a repaired wire, we said goodbye to our friends at Royal Surf Hostel and turned our attention toward the road out. We were ready to head south.

Road Down South

The road down south was a chance for us to cut our teeth on wild camping. With no infrastructure and never quite knowing whether we were allowed to park there or not, our foremost night was filled with first time butterflies and anxieties. We pulled off the highway as the light started to dim, down a gravel pull out a little too close to the road for comfort. But we were treated with striking views of a river and the mountains and once the stars came out the roar of the highway became but background music.

Villarrica

Villarrica is a beautiful little town nestled on the edge of a lake bearing its namesake. Dark green forest curtain the small houses and quaint cabanas dotted around the water, while Volcano Villarrica juts out into the skyline. Having erupted recently, Volcano Villarrica continues to emit small wisps of smoke, and at night a faint red glow can be detected at its tip– a gentle reminder of the volatile forces bubbling below. One evening while we sat on a dock, we engaged in a casual conversation about volcanic eruptions: lamenting that we had missed what we had heard was a spectacular eruption less than a month earlier. These would be words that we would have to swallow a little under two weeks later. But at the time, watching the sky fade to black around the Volcano, our gently feet swinging above the water, we were certain we had missed out. We passed many days lakeside, exploring the surrounding forests, entertaining the animals that frequented the campsite and appreciating the diverse beauty that is Chile’s Lake District.

Valdivia

Missing the wildness of the ocean air, we continued our zig-zag path down south and headed towards Valdivia. Valdivia is a city encased by water. Situated near the ocean, the city is located at the convergence of three rivers. A natural candidate for a trade center, the riverfront of Valdivia features a thriving fishing community as well a plethora of noisy sea lions. The impressively large creatures patrol the river; hoist themselves up onto the docks to catch the scraps of fish as they fly through air, after passing through the knives of the fish merchants. In the mid 1800’s, the Chilean government welcomed the immigration of German citizens to encourage a selective level of agricultural practices, technology and industry to the country. Although the influence can be spotted in many areas of Chile, we noticed it greatly in Valdivia, creeping into the architecture of homes, echoing in the names of restaurants and goods offered. We marveled at the novelty of drinking a cerveza (beer) in a building with the slogan “Das Gute Bier” written on it in the middle a Chilean city. We spent the majority of our time outside of the city, following the winding, wonderfully hilly Ruta Del Mar to the coast where we parked ourselves by the beach and reacquainted ourselves with all the reasons we love the sea.

Puerto Varas

Once again our gaze shifted south, and we set our sights on reaching Puerto Varas and the expansive waters of Lago Llanquihue. The landscape is truly stunning: clear blue water stretching out far enough to give the appearance of an ocean, idyllic green hills and farm lands peppered with cows, while beyond the lake the silhouettes of three Volcano’s tower over an otherwise flat topography. The most striking is Volcano Osorno, with its pointed top covered in white snow, it looks similar to a Chilean Mount Fuji, and all the more picturesque when reflected in the lake below. To the side lies Volcano Calbuco, a sight we appreciated but tended to ignore in favor of the stunning vision that is Osorno. Towards the end of our stay in Puerto Vara’s Calbuco would make its presence absolutely unforgettable in the most dramatic way possible. However, that is a blog post unto itself, and one that is currently being written to coincide with our epic footage. In the meantime, we present the photos of our otherwise calm endeavours in the picturesque adventure town of Puerto Varas and the surrounding countryside.

A Moment In...Between Here and There

Tavi Parusel — Sun, 19 Apr 2015 18:55:33 +0000

A Moment In...Between Here and There

The whole of South America at our feet, or rather wheels, we said goodbye to our wonderful hosts Conti and Jose and turned towards to the road ahead. We set out from Santiago with high spirits. After jumping over all the hurdles necessary to purchase and outfit our little van, we were eager to take Marquito out on the open road. The first two hours of the journey went smoothly, as we worked out the quirks of driving this old vehicle on the highway: speakers can only go so loud before they crackle, gas peddle can only be pressed so hard before the van simply will not go faster, the bed will shake as we move over bumps, and we will hold our breath each time a large truck shakes us with their turbulence. All part of the adventure.

Unfortunately, adventure decided to kick things up a notch early into the drive. We returned from a lunch break, with full bellies and stretched out limbs to find the car wouldn’t start. Turn the key…and nothing. A moment of panic ensued, the kind where your stomach drops ten feet and you feel absolutely sick with worry. Dreams of coasting down the continent quickly dissolved into nightmarish thoughts and regrets …had we purchased a lemon? Are we about to become those travellers? A call to our mechanic and a jumpstart from a fellow driver brought us back on to the highway and our road trip ambitions back into focus. However, before we could laugh at ourselves for being melodramatic, Marquito began to die on us. Piece by piece: first the radio, then the lights, then the fan and eventually, the ability to accelerate. A stroke of luck lurched our dying van to the side of the highway beside a small restaurant, a small building surrounded by absolutely nothing but highway and open field. Phone dead, dreams devastated, we trudged into the restaurant in search of help, a power outlet and hopefully someone who understood our awkward mix of English, Spanish and hand gestures.

What follows is incredibly hilarious in retrospect, but at the time was entirely overwhelming. Our calls for help alerted the attention of a well-intentioned but incredibly intoxicated woman. A stunted conversation ensured, peppered with her hiccoughs and giggles, a comedic contrast to frantic gesticulation and miserable expressions. Nevertheless, she was wonderful drunk angel, and an indispensable source of help. After disappearing for twenty minutes, this female Bacchus returned and conjured up a man she introduced to us as a mechanic. The mechanic struck an intimidating figure: large and burley with a shaved head and an obvious penchant for threatening tattoos. At home perhaps, he would not have seemed so menacing…but when you are stuck on the side of the highway in a foreign country, the intensity is always higher. Not very many words were exchanged, but once he pulled out a yellow rope and tied it to Marquito, we ascertained that he intended to tow us somewhere. A squealing of tires, and a few seconds of no movement quickly turned into a franticly fast rip across the highway and down a gravel road. With mere inches separating the back his van from the front of ours, we were alarmed to find our brakes non functional and our steering capacity drastically reduced. As he halted suddenly we just managed to swerve out of the way of rear-ending him at an frighteningly high speed. Shaken, we emerged from the van with pale faces to the sound of the mechanic getting a good hard chuckle at our stunned expressions.

As he led us into his workshop, it quickly became apparent that the engines normally he worked belonged to motorcycles. He was a biker. Three custom choppers stood looking very impressive in the corner. A few minutes of broken Spanish and frantic translations on our phone revealed to him that we were from British Columbia, while he revealed to us that he had friends there. His friends were also bikers. Indeed, he had friends all along the road across the Americas, as he informed us that he was a member of the Chilean chapter of the Hells Angels. The sound of crunching gravel alerted us to the arrival of another biker, a leather clad companion who the mechanic referred to as “mucho loco”. Our level of discomfort grew to comical proportions. The notion that we were stranded out of sight of the highway, with a broken car and with two members of the Hells Angels to keep us company left us on the verge of panic. Yet instead of turning into a horror story, the two bikers proved to be absolute gentlemen and excellent hosts. Having decided that he was unable to fix the van, he called us a tow truck and showed us around his studio. Meanwhile, the fellow biker had been preoccupied with rolling a joint, and upon completion, he held it up and offered us some. Sensing an opportunity too unique and hilarious to pass up, and in need of a little relaxation, we did indeed share a joint with two Chilean Hells Angels. By the time the tow truck rolled up, we had spent a couple hours in their company. A hazy, nerve-wracking and ultimately, amusing experience. Finding ourselves stuck precisely in between Santiago and our intended destination, Pichilemu, we opted to have our van towed 100km towards the ocean. A sickeningly high fee would leave our wallets feeling barren, but it was either move forward or find ourselves at square one again. With the sun setting in the east, we waved goodbye to our biker companions and once again hit the road. We may have been sitting up high in the cab of a tow truck, as the driver chain smoked and our little van looked at us from the rear view mirror, but at least we were on our way, heading west to the sea.

The Long Hard Way to Marquito

Tavi Parusel — Mon, 13 Apr 2015 22:22:15 +0000

The Long Hard Way to Marquito

Find which Notaries are open on Saturday. Find one that knows how to close the deal. Go with Marco’s family to a Notary to sign a contract that transfers ownership, receive a temporary ownership paper and then in two weeks go to a civil registry and pick up the official paper.

Reality:

On the verge of giving up, we turned to our trusty friend the Internet, and our always-reliable translation skills in hopes of finding a Notary open on Saturday. Naturally, this proved more complicated and less efficient then a good old-fashioned Google query. What could have been a couple clicks turned into a couple hundred, made more complicated no doubt by having to translate into Spanish before we hit search. Finally, a list of Notaries and numbers was procured. We will spare you the details of the predictably painful broken Spanish conversations that ensued, but after many, many phone calls, we found one that was open on Saturday and aware of the sale procedure. With a little convincing and many apologies we were able to persuade Marco to once again coordinate with his whole family and meet us early Saturday morning. Armed with the knowledge of our past failures, we arrived at the Notary early with a second weapon the form of our wonderful friend and translator Conti. Shortly after, Marco and his family piled out of the elevator and we waited together in nervous silence. Third time’s a charm, right? The reality of a central Notary on a Saturday morning is hot and sweaty. A Notary on a Saturday means everyone there cannot wait until Monday, it turns an already chaotic place to something bordering unbearable. Coupled with the fact that several of the staff had not shown up, the wait slowed to a snails pace. Having become experts at waiting, we tried to stay calm throughout the process. Finally, we were a helped by perhaps one of the world’s oldest men still in the work force. A bespeckled man complete with a sweater vest, who worked at a speed that made snails seem like Ferrari race cars. Naturally, the incredibly reliable Internet was down, so the man had to retype the contract on a typewriter. Watching him squint at the documents and punch in the typewriter keys one finger at a time was about as enjoyable was watching grass grow. However, after an hour of biting our fingernails and fanning our hot faces the contract was written. Soon, in a flurry of fingerprints, signatures and shaken hands, the process of transferring ownership was complete. Next was the transfer of commodities: Marco counted the piles of cash in a back room of the Notary, while his mother and brothers stood guard at the door, once again making us feel as if we were part of a cheesy Hollywood film. Finally, the keys were in our hands, and the open road at our feet. Marquito was ours.

After some questionable DIY build-a-bed attempts, we pimped out our ride with some very necessary prayer flags, a custom made mattress (i.e. lots of pillows) and some sweet scarves to look up at before we fall asleep.

Up next to Moments of Wander: The Road South

A Moment In...Santiago

Tavi Parusel — Thu, 02 Apr 2015 01:24:52 +0000

A Moment In...Santiago

Santiago is an impressive city. The bustling metropolis is peppered with a distinctly European flavour: neoclassical architecture, cobbled streets filled with brightly coloured buildings that recall Spanish colonialism. While the downtown core maintains a historic charm, the thriving economy has given way to skyscrapers, large malls and highly congested motorways. It is a city much like any other large city: always on the move forward. Yet the backdrop to this fast paced hustle and bustle is the unchanging, the awe-inspiring, the formidable, and the extraordinary. Although often shrouded in smog and hazy with heat, the Andes cut a striking figure against the sky. Rising over 4000 meters in some places, the sharp silhouette of these peaks serve as tall reminder that Chile is a country of environmental extremes. The long thin body of this country is littered with active volcanoes, frequent earthquakes, and the driest desert in the world. Meanwhile, the tip of Patagonia calls frigid Antarctica its close neighbour. Since landing in Santiago there has been an earthquake, a volcanic eruption, forest fires in the south and flooding in a desert where it never rains. Chile is an environmental force to be reckoned with. There is a heart within the dramatic landscape that has no problem reminding humans that the land we dwell on is not always ours to take as we please.

Our foray into Chile has been a faint emotional echo of the tumultuous environmental state currently rumbling through the country. Thus far the first fourteen days in South America have been an exercise in expectation versus reality. Week one and two have been a crash course in reconciling the ambitious dreams cooked up over photos of sunsets in the Andes, with the snail-paced actuality of being a foreigner in a big city attempting to buy a car. Prior to the trip, our largest concerns were primarily financial: setting a budget, saving for it, quitting our jobs and dedicating four months of our lives to adventure. To say we put an exhaustive amount of research into this trip may be an overstatement. However, I think it is fair to say both of us had never felt more prepared for an overland adventure when compared to other trips we have taken. Our time spent planning the trip was devoted to establishing an itinerary, comprehensive budget, researching places to camp along the way and acquiring the various important items required before embarking on a four month long road trip. In retrospect, I admit we were remiss to underestimate the frustrating –at times painful -bureaucratic process of purchasing a car in another country with a foreign tongue. Encouraged by promising online accounts of purchasing a car in Chile, we looked too far ahead: anticipating hard days of mechanical failures, getting lost and running out of gas, we failed to notice one of the largest obstacles glaring us in the face the moment we stepped foot in Santiago.

The first two weeks in Santiago provide us with a sharp reminder that travelling is not mutually exclusive with the relaxation of a vacation. There is work to be done, early mornings with long 'to-do' lists and days upon days waiting for papers to be processed and people to call back. However, it is not without its silver linings. The weather is a balmy 28 degrees, there are palm trees lining the cobbled streets and fresh pineapple and ginger juice to quench your thirst. Kept in the city a week longer than we had hoped, we have had to rely on the sunshine, the food, and the view of the Andes to keep our excitement going. However, it is not the mountains, or the taste of a Pisco Sour that has kept our spirits up the most, the majority of the credit falls upon the people of Santiago, who's kindness has been immeasurable and unending. Indeed, we were lucky enough to be taken in by the wonderful Conti and Jose. Conti is the cousin of one of our friends from home and graciously let us stay in her house, even though she had never met us before. For almost two weeks they invited us into their world: showing us the in's and out's of Santiago, throwing us Sunday afternoon BBQ's amongst their friends, and making us feel more than welcome in their home. Moreover, their involvement in the long and arduous process of buying a car proved insurmountable. Without their help, I can't be sure that we would have been successful in this venture at all. For that we are truly indebted. We are also inspired, for this sense of hospitality and willingness to help extends to all the people we have met here so far.

Coming soon to Moments of Wander: The Long Hard Way to Marquito or The Process of Buying a Car in Chile