There and Back Again

Beef...It's What's For Dinner (and breakfast and lunch)

2010-04-07T08:42:00.000-05:00

Bidding adieu to New Zealand was difficult, but the lure of time travel and our fifth continent spurred us on. We boarded our magical 747 in Sydney, flew 14 hours across the Pacific (and the international date line), and landed in Buenos Aires on the same day, one hour before we took off. It's an expensive way to stay young, but something to consider...

Argentina is renowned for its beef and we did not waste time before finding out why. Ben's friends Ludy and Rolando live in Buenos Aires and treated us to a gluttonous all-you-can-eat steak buffet. After months of near vegetarianism, we slithered from the restaurant like sated anacondas, many days worth of meat weighing down our distended bellies.

After a few days strolling the city's urbane neighborhoods, drinking in the architecture and sultry tango dancers, we were ready to venture further afield. Our first excursion took us across the Rio de la Plata via ferry to Uruguay. Here we ambled along the cobblestone streets and relished the tranquility of sleepy Colonia de Sacramento.

"Sleepy" quickly morphed into "boring", so we turned north, braving an 18-hour bus ride to the confluence of the borders of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. Here we found much needed laundry, internet, and relaxation before visiting the real attraction - gargantuan Iguazu Falls. If there is a method to adequately capture this sprawling spectacle photographically, we don't know it. Spanning two miles in width, this thundering curtain of 275 waterfalls is incredibly accessible by virtue of a network of elevated walkways on the Argentine side. These platforms allowed us to both teeter on the precipice atop the falls and stand beside the roaring wall of water at the bottom. The highlight was a boat ride into the churning mayhem below the falls, which put us close enough to be battered by the cascade tumbling from above.

In South America, more than anywhere else on our trip, we decry our ineptitude with foreign language. A stronger Spanish foundation would serve us well, though we are absorbing enough to get by. The other specter haunting us is the rapidly vanishing sand in the hourglass of our trip. With some effort we are fixated on making the most of our waning days of freedom, though it is difficult not to look ahead and start imagining life in "the real world" again. Rest assured, we will redouble our efforts and remain focused on fun, for the benefit of our faithful readers!

Simply Fjord-geous

2010-03-22T17:45:00.002-05:00

"This is Major Tom to ground control, I'm stepping through the door. And I'm floating in the most peculiar way". - David Bowie

Though we would love to have you believe that as the door of the tiny plane slid open, we had the composure to run an appropriate song through our heads, that is simply untrue. At 12,000 feet, with jagged fangs of rock clawing towards us from below and the wind from the open hatch roaring over the whine of the single propeller, our reptilian brains were fully in command. There were no words of inspiration dancing in our heads - all focus was fixed on normally mundane tasks such as breathing and keeping the flying monkeys in our stomachs from being released as vomit. How did we end up hanging out the side of this plane with nothing but two miles of sky between us and the unforgiving ground?

Well, there is no sense in skipping ahead, so just be patient and we will find out if there is a rational answer to that question.

New Zealand's biggest draw, when we dreamt up this trip many moons ago, was the expansive Middle Earth terrain and the many highly regarded hikes that amble through it. The country is known for their world-class trail system ("tramps" along the "tracks" in kiwi speak) and since the limited permits sell out rapidly, we reserved our slots in July 2009. Our first tramp was the three day, two night Routeburn Track, which dazzled us with rugged mountain scenery over 20 spectacular miles.

Following the trek, a fortuitously efficient two-day hitchhiking adventure put us back in the role of thumb-wagging passengers to reconnect with our acrid car. In our best coup yet, Ben was scooped up by a gaggle of South Korean girls and provided a guided tour of the area (in Korean).

Our second tramp was the Milford track, boastfully dubbed "The Finest Walk in the World". This four day, three night excursion winds gently over 33 miles from a massive inland lake to the fjordland, terminating in the spectacular Milford Sound. Both tramps were luxurious by our standards, with bunkhouses for sleeping and common rooms for cooking and killing time. These way stations injected an enjoyable human element to the treks, inspiring rapid comraderie with out fellow trampers, especially David, John, Diane, and the Flying Dutchman. We settled into a fantastic routine of strolling the picturesque trails by day, playing cards and slogging through a dehydrated meal in the evening, and listening to the old men in our bunkrooms rock the Casbah with their snoring through the night. In general, the sun joined us on the trail, but even our rainy days were rewarding, lavishing us with endless waterfalls dangling down the cliff faces like the silver silken threads of so many spider webs.

Unfortunately for the blood-thirsty sand flies, our days in the wilderness soon reached an end and we continued south to spend some time with Carolyn's family friends, Peter and Linda Seed. These two globetrotters gave us the royal treatment, with home-cooked meals, a guided tour of Dunedin, and a lifetime supply of British songs to sing, courtesy of the pomp-inflated evening of Queen worship at "The Proms". Did you know New Zealand is still a vassal state to the British monarchy? Neither did we, but now you know....and knowing is half the battle.

Our waning days on the Enchanted Isles were spent visiting the country's highest point, the towering Mt. Cook. This ice-sheathed giant dwarfs its surrounding brethren in the Southern Alps and has provided fertile training ground for some of the globe's most celebrated mountaineers. With time running short, we went for a short hike to a glacier-fed lake and settled for risking our lives needlessly in other ways.

From the beginning of our trip, our hearts were set on bungy jumping in Queenstown where the "sport" was born. However, upon coming face to face with the prices, we found the idea of paying $30/second for the experience scarier than the prospect of actually bungy jumping. Instead, we shifted our focus to the lunacy of sky diving over the Remarkables mountain range and the other-worldly blue of Lake Wakatipu. The free fall from the plane lasted an incredible 40 seconds, which felt eternal at the time, but is hard to recall at all in retrospect. It seems that our brains were so overwhelmed by hurtling towards the ground at 120 mph that memories ceased recording during the plummet. We can easily say that the wind was fierce enough to knock the screams (very manly, confident screams in Ben's case) from our throats. We bent the budget for the day and sprung for a concurrently diving cameraman to capture Carolyn's jump on film, so her mother could see it for herself at long last. The five minute parachute float earthward was Carolyn's highlight. Our tandem masters were able to maneuver our chutes to within shouting distance so we could relish the moment together. Touchdown brought with it lots of high fives and hugs, knowing we now had more ammo with which to someday convince our kids that we used to be cool.

Our time in New Zealand ended on a high note, with Ben's unforeseen second place finish (and accompanying $10 prize) in a beauty contest while playing Monopoly!

P.S. If you were considering filling you water bottle in the urinal at the Sydney airport, we advise against it. You have been warned.

And...a few extra pics.

Paradise Found

2010-03-04T10:31:00.000-06:00

This just in...it feels like vacation again. After a short hop over the Tasman Sea and a big hug for our pilot, we closed the door on Oz, tiptoed across the hall, and swung open the next door to find New Zealand beckoning.

For the first time since Singapore, a friendly face greeted us at the airport. Rosie, a friend from Turkey and native Kiwi, housed us, fed us, chauffered us, and rekindled our excitement for being on the road. From the "busker" shows (a fancy New Zealand word for "street performers") to an all-day outdoor music fest, to the bustling pub scene, we were treated to the best of Christchurch summer.

Our first order of business after settling in was rebuilding our paltry cache of remaining gear for the upcoming excursions. We received phenomenal assistance in this quest from our beloved friends at gear manufacturer, Kelty. Our connection there (code name: Bizz) donated two brand new backpacks, a Pawnee 3300 and a Coyote 4500, which were shipped to intercept us in Christchurch. Thanks again Kelty and Bizz - we can´t say it enough! With our newest companions on our backs, Rosie graciously spirited us to all of the city´s most promising second-hand stores, where we bedecked ourselves in all of the best fashions of the 80´s and 90´s. Ben even scored his first denim since college, inheriting a pair of castoff jeans from Rosie´s flatmate, Warren.

Rejuvenated and resupplied, our wanderlust flared up and we embarked on a three week, counter-clockwise tour of New Zealand´s South Island. Heading north from Christchurch, we skirted the stunning Pacific coast, stopping occassionally to skip gleefully down a deserted beach or watch a seal lumber awkwardly across the rocks. We stayed in an enjoyable string of mom and pop hostels under the BBH affiliation, which we found to be traveller-run and cozy.

Our chariot, eventually named Lyle, became a welcome sight to New Zealand´s plentiful hitchhikers, as we repaid the kilometers that we had borrowed while thumbing in Europe. The hitchhikers gave back too; one of them spilled milk all over the backseat, leaving a smell that insured we could not forget her for the rest of our roadtrip. At the suggestion of a roadside info booth (we really were that desperate for solutions), we applied a top coat of vinegar to the backseat in hope of removing the stench. This left us with an odiferous conglomeration best described as what you would smell if you were dying Easter eggs, ran out of eggs, and decided to proceed with roadkill instead. Neadless to say, the windows stayed down for the rest of the trip.

Upon reaching Golden Bay, at the northern tip of the South Island, we treated ourselves to a sunrise horseback ride on stunning Cape Farewell. This expedition echoed a ride Carolyn did with her parents 15 years earlier and we marvelled at the fact that the cicadas who serenaded us along the way were likely the offspring of those she had heard so many years before. For his part, Ben clung tightly to his trusty steed, Ivanhoe, and slowly picked up enough confidence to revel in a thundering beach gallop past the towering stone sea stacks.

We also enjoyed a quiet hike in Abel Tasman National Park, which paid off on a deserted strip of sand lapped by the waves. We were definitely on vacation again!

Soon our path turned south to follow the island´s rugged west coast, where the mountains march into the sea. The highlights here were the enormous Franz Joseph and Fox glaciers, beneficiaries of the bountiful precipitation dumped as moist ocean air that slams into the peaks of the Southern Alps. We then turned inland, weaving through the towering mountains and sprawling lakes that line the passage to the charming town of Wanaka. Here the country`s siren song reached a crescendo and we started flirting with the idea of living in New Zealand someday. As of this writing, the Kiwi immigration folks do not agree with that sentiment, but we are sure they will relent when they see how nice we are.

Next stop: Queenstown - adventure sports capital of the planet!

The Mystery Machine vs. Oz

2010-02-16T18:58:00.001-06:00

Are you looking for heart-pounding thrills? Want to stretch your brain and build new synapses? Desperate to put your relationship to the test? If you answered "yes" to these questions, let us recommend driving in Sydney! You will love the challenge of driving on the left side of the road, while sitting on the right side of the vehicle, and shifting with your left hand. Throw in speed limits in kilometers, some parallel parking, and plentiful roundabouts and you have a recipe for excitement. Take our word for it - the first dozen times you attempt to use your turn signal, your windshield wipers will be flailing, fellow drivers will be honking, and your significant other will be slouching pronouncedly to avoid eye contact with bystanders.

Thrilled by the prospect of the open road after many months of public transport, we rented a campervan for our month-long sojourn in The Land Down Under. To ensure that we were not mistaken for locals (as if our driving prowess didn't make it obvious enough), we hired an ultra conspicuous and blatantly feminine van bedazzled with pink and purple flowers and emblazoned with the words "Hippie Camper". In our spartan wheeled house, we settled into a comfortable daily routine of driving, roasting on the beach, grilling out, and sweating through our sheets until sunrise. The perspiration stemmed not only from the oppressive summer heat, but also from the questionable legality of sleeping in a vehicle in public parks. Despite the assurances of numerous Aussies that this was an acceptable practice, the policeman who woke us with a sharp rap on the window early one morning seemed to disagree. Thereafter, sound sleep was hard to come by and the nightly debate regarding the merits of various van hiding spots soaked up many hours.

Since planning our trip a year ago, the Australian dollar gained 50% in value against the U.S. dollar. Sadly, our currency hedging team did not see this coming and our budget was decapitated by the towering prices. We had never encountered $15 six packs of beer, $27 CD's, $5 gallons of petrol, or $25 bottles of saline solution and facing them forced us into hardscrabble survival tactics. We showered in the public restrooms provided on most beaches and ate heaps of cereal out of the back of the van. We evidently looked the part as well - we were in Australia less than 24 hours before someone asked Ben if he was homeless, as he washed his feet in a public restroom. Living the dream. The hardest part for Carolyn was listening to Ben's endless shouts of "My name is Ben Opps...I am a motivational speaker...and I live in a van down by the ocean!" (accompanied by jerking arms and spectacle adjustments).

The clear highlight since crossing the equator was the unparalleled fireworks show over Sydney Harbor to welcome the new year. A massive dose of good luck (with a pinch of smooth talking) yielded two free wristbands to witness the spectacle from the elevated Cahill Expressway, which was closed to traffic for the night. This perch put us in the center of the action, with explosions of light and color erupting 360 degrees around us. Our perch provided us balcony views right above the Harbor, with fireworks launching from the Opera House on the right, the Harbor Bridge on the left, and numerous sky-scrapers behind us. The show only lasted 12 minutes, but they made every one count. This is one of those rare events that surpasses the prodigious hype surrounding it. On the walk back to our beach house (on wheels), we negotiated a sausage sandwich down to half price, further strengthening our faith that 2010 will be a very good year.

After months in non-English speaking countries, Australia provided a measure of linguistic repose. This is not to say the semantic nuances between our English and their did not provide some entertainment. For instance, when asked "How are you going?" the proper response is not "By van." They are, in fact, asking how you are doing. While swimming at a public pool, Ben was crouched on the edge contemplating how to enter with the greatest effect. The lifeguard read his mind and sauntered up to point out the rules of the pool, which forbid dives and "bombs". Relieved, Ben carried on with the impressive cannonball he had planned, displacing a large spout of chlorinated water on the deck at her feet. Luckily, she was in a good humor, for she quickly explained with a look of disdain and many disapproving nods that Ben had just executed a strictly forbidden bomb. Ben convinced her of the honesty of the mistake by guiding her through the various ordinance used in American swimming pools (spanning the gamut from watermelons to jack knives) and a shaky truce was declared. As another example, our searches for key college football bowl games bore no fruit until we started asking for "gridiron". With some effort, we watched the Longhorns make the BCS title game interesting (contrary to all expectations) and enjoyed a Badger victory. We even sang "Varsity" to close out the game with all the other Wisconsin fans (okay, fan).

In general, we found Aussies to be some of the friendliest folk we have encountered in our travels, quick to buy us a pint or point us in the direction of a little-known beach. Ben's second cousins were no exception. Alyssa, Jim, Joyce, and Michael hosted us with a warmth that belied the fact that we had never met before this visit. The notable exceptions to this welcoming demeanor were the aforementioned scoundrels who, returning to Australia's roots as a prison continent, took a crowbar to our van in broad daylight and helped themselves to most of our possessions. Luckily they did not find our passports or the emergency credit card and we were able to forge on.

This event ushered in a two week period known as the "Dark Days", during which we slogged through the five stages of loss (with hefty focus on anger and bargaining and an acceptance stage that is still in progress). The first week was spent near the scene of the crime, our desperate bid to recover our belongings leading us on a tour of the local police stations and pawn shops. We logged so many kilometers slowly trolling surrounding suburbs, parks, and ditches in search of discarded items that the neighborhood watch lost interest in our creeping van. We ran classified ads, contacted the press, went to the dump and took every other reasonable action we could think of, in the vain hope of recovering the photos (originals and backups) and journal that are priceless to us and worthless to a slimy crook. Eventually, we attempted to force the acceptance stage by pointing the Mystery Machine north and fixed our slights on leaving Australia and starting anew.

Our final week of driving was shaped by Cyclone Olga, which pummeled us with a relentless torrent and inhumane humidity. During a short respite from the monsoon, we enjoyed a crocodile-viewing cruise through the mangrove swamp and met Andrea and Dave, two affable Yankees whose gift of tap beer helped us forget our woes for an evening. Sadly, the storm squelched our plan to dive the Great Barrier Reef, but at the time we had our sights set on relinquishing our campervan contract and bidding farewell to our flowered nemesis. Returning the van in Cairns provided the arsenic icing on the toxic cake, as Apollo Rentals not only helped themselves to our insurance deductible, but also tacked on a $75 processing fee for their hardship due to our break-in.

As always, thank you to our readers for the outpouring of support and offers of assistance during our Dark Days. Your responses reminded us why we embarked on the trip in the first place and the Haitian tragedy put our minor loss into glaring perspective. We are happy to say that leaving Oz jolted our odyssey back to life. We are excited to share the upturn with you in our next post!

P.S. We are sad to report that Ben's most faithful drinking buddy since 2002, his indefatigable NASA coozie, was lost in the van heist. R.I.P. and thanks for the memories...

A White (Sand) Christmas

2010-01-24T22:00:00.000-06:00

It is hard to say no to a legless man. Even after a day of adroitly evading the cutest and most persistent saleschildren, the book peddler confined to his wheeled cart wormed his way through our defenses. With the dubious distinction as the world's most landmined country, Cambodia is teeming with unfortunate victims missing various limbs. Sadly this delayed curse from the disastrous Khmer Rouge regime of the late 1970s is still killing and maiming innocents to this day. Sitting face to face with one of these, a father of five, made it hard to savor the 50-cent tap beers and look the other way. So we did what he asked and bought a book, which taught us more about the devastating reign of Pol Pot and the ruthless genocide that happened during our lifetimes. This was all a bit heavy for "holiday," but necessary context to better grasp what we observed.

Thankfully, there is much more to Cambodia than its turbulent recent past. We were drawn here by the same forces that pull in tourists from around the world, the astounding ruins of the Khmer Empire, most notably the Angkor complex. Covering a vast swath of jungle, over 700 Hindu and Buddhist temples testify to the power and sophistication of this great civilization that peaked in 12th century.

We quickly found that the only way to avoid being accosted by touts hawking tuk-tuks was to be in a tuk-tuk. Luckily, they are used for legitimate transport here, so we hired a driver and English-speaking guide for the day and set off to explore the sprawling Khmer ruins. In pursuit of a postcard-perfect photo (for you, of course), we set out before dawn, hoping to catch sunrise over the famous towers of Angkor Wat. The low ceiling of clouds did not cooperate with this goal, but we still experienced the magic of watching the eerie stone temple slowly emerge from the shadows in the growing light. We spent a full day wat-hopping in the steamy jungle, while our excellent guide enlightened us with historical context and divined the meaning of the elaborate stone carvings and rampant symbolism. Highlights include the towering stone faces of Angkor Thom with their subtle smiles and the spooky remnants of Ta Prohm, which appears to be losing its battle with the encroaching rainforest.

Much like the people we met in Laos, the Khmer (as the Cambodians call themselves) were friendly and genuine. They are also ingeniously efficient with their transportation, to the extent that seeing a family of five on a single moped or a wife gingerly loaded in the trunk of a car became routine. Even the local animals made us feel welcome, especially the hungry fish who gladly gave us pedicures with their mouths. Though it did not make the brochure, our hotel room came equipped with a few friendly geckos, who did their best to keep the malarial mosquitoes under control. Our only regret is that we did not have more time to spend outside of the tourist haven of Siem Reap. However, it is never too early to start adding ideas to the list for our next trip...

After nearly a month of staccato sight-seeing throughout SE Asia, we spent the final week of 2009 plopped securely on the beach. Once more, we braved the baffling she-males and cunning conmen to spend time on the enchanting beaches of Southern Thailand. The Thais were quick to point out that the animosity is mutual, as the omnipotent immigration officer awarded Ben a verbal lashing and a souvenir handwritten note in Thai that says something to the effect of "This one is naughty." Why? The officer did not like the way Ben handed over his passport. Guh.

Thankfully, the beaches delivered on our dreams of sun, sand, and chillaxing. We spent a highly unorthodox Christmas soaking up rays on the island of Koh Samui. Thanks to the Thai-made SPF 20 sun block, which actually seemed to magnify the UV rays, we can easily say we received our deepest Christmas Day sunburn to date. Our first Christmas away from home did not feel strange until we watched "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and talked to our families via Skype. Seeing the snow-covered yard, the decked out tree, and the anxious kiddies through the PC made us more than a little wistful for home. However, picking out fresh seafood on the beach, while candlelit floating lanterns rose skyward on all sides, made for a memorable dinner that night. It was a potent reminder of how lucky we are to get to try something new this year.

We spent our last few days in Asia on the tiny island of Koh Tao. The visit was punctuated by a two-tank SCUBA dive excursion that ranks as arguably the best dive we have ever done. Dropping into the water and setting aside the jitters of relatively inexperienced divers, we noticed that the visibility was quite poor. Thankfully the plankton responsible for this also makes great fish food. As we descended further, the sunlight -loving plankton receded, affording us views of endless schools of fish. Giant grouper and silver-sided barracuda were in abundance and we spent much of the dive flailing underwater to point things out to each other. At a few points along our circumnavigation of the columnar reef, up to four 6-foot sharks glided silently into view like toothy torpedoes. It was an outstanding way to finish our Asian adventures and a banner year of travel. Stay tuned for our next post, which vaults us into a new year...and onto a new continent!

Bump in the Road

2010-01-14T23:58:00.000-06:00

* Spoiler Alert! Plot Spoilers Ahead *

Due to the time it takes to write, collect photos, and find internet access for making posts, the blog is usually a few weeks behind reality. If you enjoy reading chronologically, just skip this post. If you can stand a break from the straight timeline, jump in our time machine and read on for the closest to "real-time" blogging we have done to date.

Bob Dylan said "When you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose." So we've got that going for us....which is nice. A couple days ago, our rental van was broken into near Brisbane, Australia. It was parked in a busy parking lot in broad daylight, but that did not stop the crooks from prying the lock off of the door. Sadly, we were parted with most of our belongings, including the PC we used to make our blog entries. Therefore, we expect an even slower posting cadence than you are accustomed to while we try to rebuild.

Thankfully, we are safe and have each other. The experience has left us shaken, but we will recover and the Odyssey will go on. The senseless nature of the theft is nearly laughable, as we had very little that has any value to anyone but us. Anyone who has had the distinct pleasure of living with Ben knows that his dirty socks (which were stolen) will not be hot sellers. We can shrug off the loss of the "stuff", but the loss of our photos and journal will likely pain us for a very long time.

At any rate, thanks for your patience on upcoming posts. Having this digital record of our adventures just skyrocketed in importance!

Same Same...But Different

2010-01-10T23:22:00.003-06:00

The best part about Southeast Asian trains is the bathroom. There is simple honesty in the hole cut in the floor, which allows you to watch the railroad ties whip by as you relieve yourself. There is no pretense that excrement will be collected or treated - it is quite clear where it will end up.

After a string of urban haunts, we were ready to escape the bustle of Bangkok. We rode the rails north to the former capital of Siam, Ayutthaya. In its day, the city was a powerhouse, boasting one million residents in 1685 (about double London's population at the time). This all ended when the Burmese sacked the capital in 1767. We spent a day exploring the eerie remains, including many striking wats (temples) and crumbling Buddha statues. At dusk, local monks in their striking orange robes wandered the grounds with us, politely declining the Christmas cookies we offered. At dinner on the Pasak River, mammoth bats fanned out like flying puppies for a night of hunting under a full moon.

An overnight train spirited us north to Chiang Mai, where we took the much ballyhooed trek to visit the hill tribe people. Though purported to educate us on the tribe's customs and way of life, there was precious little of this provided by our guide. Instead of glimpses into the lives of villagers untouched by the modern world, as advertised, our only contact with the locals was when they were peddling trinkets or beer. The highlight of the experience was watching our guide catch the frogs and rats that served as his dinner. We also rode elephants and braved a river atop a bamboo raft. Even these unique experiences were oversold and underdelivered. Thailand was a vexing place.

Matters improved markedly when we crossed the border into Laos, thus the title of this post (citing a ubiquitous local saying). Tourism is much less developed here, leaving more natural, untarnished beauty and a population intrigued by and genuinely friendly towards foreigners. Plus, our initial trip to the ATM delivered delightful news...for the first time, we were millionaires. And boom goes the dynamite. With ~8000 kip (the local currency) equivalent to one US dollar, it only takes about $125 for an account to hit seven digits, but the ATM receipt with our balance still became a treasured souvenir.

We spent our first two days on an appropriately named "slow boat" cruising the Mekong River. The river has long been the country's primary transportation corridor, with roads coming slowly through the jungle-covered mountains. The leisurely pace allowed us to observe riverside agriculture, local fishermen working their nets, and tiny thatch villages connected to the rest of the world solely by the river. Long periods of silence and calm but for the droning engine were punctuated by frantic stops that found our vessel thronged by sales-children hawking everything from drinks to scarves to freshly snared mammals and fish-on-a-stick.

Our boat trip terminated in the amazing, temple-bedecked town of Louang Prabang. There we had a few days exploring the well-preserved wats, indulging in the tasty restaurants, and appreciating the relaxed nature of the residents. One highlight was walking through the local open-air market, filled with exotic fruits, live fish and toads, extremely dead fish being filleted on the roadside, detached cow legs, maggots, etc. It was stomach-churning, but rewarding to see "real life" after the contrived sights of Thailand. Our other high point came at sunset when we serendipitously found ourselves outside of Wat Nang as the monks did their nightly prayers. The rise and fall of the chorus of holy voices pouring out mantras as the last sun rays glinted off the golden roof was nothing short of magical.

A winding 8-hour minibus ride through bandit country delivered us to our next stop, the town of Vang Vieng. Here we took a full-day excursion into the amazing jungle-covered, round-topped mountains that fill the surrounding countryside. First, we paddled inner tubes into a frigid stream flowing from a cave's gaping maw. With giant battery packs slung around our necks to power the ancient headlamps we wore, we stowed the tubes and set off on foot (and knees) to explore the cave. For about an hour, we walked, crawled, and shinnied through the stalactite-filled cavern. Along the way, we spotted albino cave crickets, a mega millipede, and a spider the size of a dinner plate. At one point we stopped and quenched our lamps to enjoy true darkness where we could see absolutely nothing.

After BBQ lunch, we set off on a quiet kayak paddle down a peaceful river. Vang Vieng is a tubing haven for intrepid backpackers and our river experience changed dramatically as we hit the tubing headwaters. All of the sudden the banks were covered by bars filled with writhing, bathing suit clad kids getting all kinds of wasted. With little in the way of liability laws, each bar has a towering rope swing, zip line, or water slide into the river. Bodies were flying in all directions as the bass thumped and free shots of whiskey went down.

Carolyn hit the high rope swing to show the youngsters that old coots still know how to have fun. We highly enjoyed watching the novice zip-liners ride to the stopper device at the end of the line and get thrown head over heels. After paddling back to town, we treated ourselves to our first massages of the trip, shelling out $4 each on hour-long rubdowns.

Our last destination in Laos was the capital city of Vientiene. Our masterstroke here was devising a way to attend a portion of the 25th annual South East Asian Games in progress in the city. A veritable SE Asian Olympics, these were on TV everywhere in Laos during our stay and we wanted a piece of the action. Our foremost goal was to watch a sport we had never seen before, so we sought out the soccer/volleyball hybrid called Sepak Takraw. It took lots of stops to ask the locals, but after a few tuk tuk rides we found the stadium. The seating area was packed and sweltering, but we got to see incredible over-the-net bicycle kicking action in both the women's and men's 3-person finals. For the men's game, we sat on the floor three people away from the court. This gave us great views of the action and we even caught a "foul ball" at one point. It was unique to see athletes so specialized and skilled at a sport that doesn't even exist in the U.S.

Thanks for your patience as we struggled to find the internet bandwidth to make this post. The last few weeks hold many more tales and we will share them as soon as we are practically able.

P.S. Jason - we hope you liked all the video, which was provided per your repeated requests!

Great Cities of Asia

2009-12-25T08:10:00.000-06:00

With great zeal, we left our simple trekking days behind us and embraced the frantic pace of urban Asia. After flying through the night to Hong Kong, we were so excited to indulge in a hot shower and clean sheets that we started trying to check into our hotel at 9:30am. They appreciated our vivacity, but sent us away anyway. Suffering from a potent case of travel haze, which afflicts us when lack of sleep and food pile up for an extended duration, we went in search of comfort. This lead us to a traveler's most potent temptation - the Golden Arches. After nearly a month in Nepal without meat, we spent a gluttonous 90 minutes gorging $75 worth of artery-clogging deliciousness (okay, they were HK dollars, but it was still quite a feast). Sated, we sheepishly returned to the hotel, passing local restaurants offering up cheap, authentic fare.

After a shower and nap, we were as good as new and set out to explore Hong Kong. As in Europe, the city's public transportation is remarkably efficient, inexpensive, and easy to navigate. Our first destination was Victoria Peak, where one can theoretically take in panoramic views of the overwhelming skyline, the harbor, and the South China Sea. Sadly, due to the plentiful coal-fired plants pumping pollutants into the air in nearby Southern China, a dense haze of smog smothered the city throughout our visit. Next, we took the subway underneath Victoria Harbor and repented for our earlier McDonald's debacle by dining with the locals in the Kowloon night market. Then, to get the true local experience, we topped the night off with karaoke, torturing a room of Chinese with pitiful renditions of a few American hits.

Our next stop was everyone's favorite city-state, Singapore, and the friendly confines of our friend Grace's flat. After six months in perpetual transit, we were delighted to be welcomed to a place that we could call "home" for a few days. For the first time since Budapest in mid-October, we were greeted by a familiar face when we arrived and it was such a great feeling. Grace treated us like royalty, the highlight being a jaw-dropping, traditional American Thanksgiving feast, complete with turkey, stuffing, cranberries, pumpkin pie, and everything else that you ate that day. To top off the familial warmth we felt, Ben's parents surprised us by shipping in a box of our favorite homemade Christmas cookies. Besides being thankful for the amazing adventures we have shared this year, we toasted to bellies full of our favorite foods courtesy of cherished friends and family.

Singapore is clean and lush, with sweltering weather that hurriedly drove memories of shivering in Nepal from our sweaty heads. With no regard for the stifling heat or the fact that less than 15% of the populace is Christian, the marketers put on a grand display of Christmas decorations. Plentiful faux icicles and artificial snow hung from the palm trees, a juxtaposition designed to open wallets. Despite a reputation for stifling sterility due to its strict governance, we found the city inviting and escaped without a single caning. We explored surprisingly little, instead relishing our time without a schedule, swimming in the complex's pool, and playing with Grace's adorable daughter, Kristin. Though shy at first, Kristin soon warmed up to us, drawn in by the foreign allure of our yellow hair, which she kept comparing to the color of her yellow blocks. We built some pretty epic Lego towers together, shared many pots of invisible tea, and ended each night scraping PlayDough from underneath our fingernails. By the end of our stay, Kristin even felt comfortable jumping on our bed with us (but don't tell Grace). It was hard to say goodbye after a relaxing stay, with the knowledge that once again we were treading into the unknown to fend for ourselves.

With a jolt, we found ourselves in the frenetic Thai capital of Bangkok. Snarled by ever-present traffic, this overwhelming metropolis has a remarkably efficient system for separating "farang" (Thai for "gringos") from their money. Nearly every backpacker gets funneled to a strip called Khoa San Road, with the cheapest lodging in the city and a buzzing nightlife. From here, visitors are barraged by salesmen, women and children anytime they are outside their guestrooms. Like nearly every other farang that we talked to, we made the mistake of using an inexpensive tuk-tuk, a three-wheeled motorized cart, to explore some of the city's renowned sites. A cunning web of seemingly innocent bystanders conspired to get us in the tuk-tuk, help us along our way, provide us with travel information, and eventually book us a tour. It was not a scam, per se, but the tour delivered on neither the promise nor the price. We are still kicking ourselves for making a rookie mistake, but hope we can save readers some hassle. Short story - don't get into a tuk-tuk in Bangkok. Even if you escape the tourism office, you will not escape the gem market, silk shop, tailor, etc. who are all licking their chops waiting for you, the walking greenback.

Bangkok did have its redeeming qualities, especially the myriad royal palaces and Buddhist wats (i.e. temples). Though Thailand is a democracy, the Thai monarchy is genuinely revered and highly visible. Our visit coincided with the King's Birthday, an annual national holiday celebrated with parades, music, and giant omnipresent portraits of the king throughout the country. The most splendid regal residence was the aptly named Grand Palace, a sprawling complex of gilded wats, ornate buildings, and museums. The press of the tourist throng here was reminiscent of the Acropolis, especially around the country's most revered religious icon, the Emerald Buddha. This jade idol is renowned for its miraculous powers - some scholars even credit the statue with the invention of peanut M&Ms. On our tour, there was no mention of the fact that the Thais stole the statue from both Cambodia and Laos at different intervals in history.

Thailand has provided the culinary highlight of our trip, with liberal use of flavorful curries and coconut milk. At mealtimes, Ben's nose is like a rusty faucet that just won't stop dripping and his forehead is swabbed of sweat often. Sweatbands should be standard issue in Thai restaurants. We also branched out into more curious menu items, crunching some locusts on a late-night whim. We drew the line at the roaches and grubs for sale. Finally, we splurged a bit and treated ourselves to new t-shirts in December. Since moving from "Home is where the car is" this summer to "Home, sweet backpack," we've grown tired of our increasingly dingy three shirt rotation. Keep your eyes peeled for fancy new threads in upcoming posts. Hopefully you will still recognize us!

As a closing aside, we want to report on a consistent vibe that we have felt since leaving the US. Throughout our international journeys, we have met and befriended innumerable locals and fellow travelers. We do our best to gather sentiment on how the world views the US and the American people. Sometimes this comes from asking pointed questions, but often it is offered up unsolicited. As with all of the observations on our blog, this is unscientific.

We are pleased to report that the vast majority of the people we have met (primarily European, Asian, and Australian) feel very positive about the US and its citizens. Without exception, they praise President Obama and the new political direction the country has taken. Many bash former President Bush, ask about our economy, or inquire about war, but there is recognition that these issues do not negate positive feelings for America. No matter what your political leanings are, this direction is a boon for the US. The embarrassing downside of American popularity is the heavy international consumption of (in our opinion) trashy American media. It is remarkable how many people, once we are done talking foreign policy and politics, mention TV shows like Paris Hilton's "The Simple Life" or "Real Housewives of Orange County" that are playing as reruns overseas. It is a sad state of affairs that this content will shape some views of the American people for impressionable TV consumers. Regardless, we are delighted that the world is still a welcoming place for Americans.

Happy Holidays from Team Opps

2009-12-24T01:14:00.000-06:00

Season's greetings from the beaches of Thailand! We hope you are able to spend this time with your loved ones. Thanks for following us in 2009. We're looking forward to seeing you next year!

Thorung La Pass

2009-12-13T02:51:00.003-06:00

For ten days, we slowly ascended into the heart of the Himalaya, always wending our way higher towards Thorung La Pass. This is reputed to be the world's highest pass, at nearly 18,000 feet, and it filled our thoughts as the air grew thinner and colder. We knew that conquering the pass was the trek's greatest physical challenge, with high likelihood of altitude sickness, at least eight hours hiking in the frigid cold, a 3200 foot ascent, and a 5200 foot descent. Why did this whole gambit seem like a good idea?

An unforeseen benefit of the physical test lying ahead was the camaraderie that it forged between the trekkers. The circuit is nearly always traversed in a counterclockwise direction to make the high pass as manageable as possible. Because of this, many of our fellow hikers became recognizable companions, as we leap-frogged each other by day and gathered around the same stoves in the evening. Since we were all experiencing the same joys and challenges, there was typically instant rapport and these friendships emerged as one of the trek's highlights. Our most steadfast companion was Fabrizio, the Italian in his 50s who careened up the trail under his hefty pack like he was in his 20s. He accompanied us for 10 days and by the end we felt like we had known him, his twinkling eyes, and his wry commentary forever. We also enjoyed the company and commiseration of Ilana and Linda, an Israeli and Canadian respectively living in Montana. Their caustic humor toward the physical tribulations of the climb lifted our spirits. Finally, there was "Poor Tony," the Irishman, whose guide was intent on making the trek as uncomfortable as possible for his client. There is nothing like watching someone else suffer to make you feel better about your own situation.

The morning of the final push to the high pass, we woke from our fitful sleep in the frigid darkness of 3:30am. We slept in most of our clothes, including stocking caps and down jackets, so there wasn't much to pack. After a quick breakfast, we began the climb, dressed for a strip poker tournament with two down jackets, long underwear tops and bottoms, two wicking undershirts, hiking pants, stocking caps, mittens, gaiters, wool socks, and Gore-Tex hiking shoes. The steep ascent quickly warmed our cores, but fingers and toes slowly lost mobility. At 10 degrees Fahrenheit, the tubes to our drinking water bladders froze solid within two hours, hampering hydration mightily. For the last two hours of uphill slog, we trudged into a biting wind that strafed us mercilessly with crystalline snow. Zombie-like, we reached Thorung La, the pinnacle of the circuit, around 8am. The word "Himalaya" comes from Sanskrit and means "Abode of Snow"; this was an apt description of our frozen surroundings.

After a few hasty pictures, we retreated to the warming shack perched on the saddle. Here we were both choked up - Carolyn succumbing to the emotion of successfully reaching the hard-fought pass and Ben from inhaling the noxious cloud of secondhand cigarette smoke and kerosene fouling the shanty. As if the lung-searing elevation was not enough, the porters all huddle with their cigarettes to celebrate reaching the arrival of the downhill segment. We beat a hasty retreat from the hut and took off down the other side, ecstatic to descend in search of warm, oxygen-rich air. Pending genealogical verification, we think that standing atop the pass at 5460 meters earns Carolyn the prestigious title of the World's Highest Bruner, which should make for good resume fodder.

The remaining five days of the trek were surprisingly challenging, though it was more mental than physical. After psyching ourselves up for the draining attempt on the pass, it took some mental gymnastics to come to terms with the fact that we were safely on the other side....and still had five days on the trail. After one last rendezvous with our aforementioned friends, we left the village of Muktinath and descended through the alpine desert that surrounds the Kali Gandaki river basin. Directly to our north lay Nepal's remote Upper Mustang region and eventually Tibet. This valley, billed as the deepest in the world as the river cuts between two 8000 meter peaks, has served as a main caravan trade route between Tibet and India for centuries. Due to the topography, each day in the late morning the valley is scoured by a fierce, sandblasting wind as the cool, dense mountain air rushes northward to fill the void left by rising heated air on the Tibetan Plateau. Trudging through this maelstrom was a challenge that rewarded us with gritty whitened teeth and freshly exfoliated faces.

Because of the importance of this trade route to the North, the government hacked a winding road connecting these villages to lowland Nepal in the mid-90s. This infrastructure made irreparable changes to both the local residents and the trekking route. The latter now crisscrosses and even runs atop the road for much of the descent. At first glance, the towns look the same on this side of the pass, but closer inspection shows much higher consumption of Western media, Bollywood films, and cheap Chinese-made goods. The trekkers are much different too. The road enabled an airport in the town of Jomsom and inns to support the higher maintenance jet-setters who drop in for four day treks, so they can check "Himalaya trek" off the list. We have typically been in their shoes with scarce vacation days, so we felt especially blessed to have had the time to experience Nepal at a slower pace. There is certainly no "right" way to vacation, however we reflected on the vast difference in conversations on the ascent versus the descent. Talking to our friends on the ascent typically focused on the wonder of our shared experience, while eavesdropping on the fly-ins on the other side of the pass inevitably yielded hubris-ridden games of one-upsmanship regarding all of the remarkable destinations they had visited. Regardless of the clientele, the Nepali people were as gracious and friendly as always.

One of our favorite experiences on the descent was gingerly lowering our weary, filthy bodies into the natural hot springs in the village of Tatopani. The bubbling cauldron is nestled into the river bank and towering peaks are visible in all directions through wisps of rising steam. We felt fresh and new again after simmering for a few hours. Another highlight was enjoying sunrise over the entire Annapurna Range from atop Poon Hill. (At 10,500 feet and higher then anything east of the Mississippi, it is hard to call it a hill, but it's all relative.) The steel blue of famed peaks like Machhapuchhre and Dhawalagiri erupted along the horizon in the first feeble rays of sun. Surveying the terrain traversed over the previous weeks, we felt alive in the truest sense. Day after day filled with little more than walking, eating, and sleeping has a way of chipping away at our typical needs and wants, leaving us with gratitude for the simplicity of warmth and nourishing food. By this point, Ben's most pressing materialistic desire was simply for a pair of clean socks.

The final day of our trek led us jarringly back to civilization, with its blaring music and incessant vendors. We celebrated our return by releasing our suppressed consumeristic monsters and loading up on souvenirs for our families. Don't tell our nephew Calvin, but someone is getting the cutest, snuggliest, little fleece that we have ever seen! Ben also indulged in the best sub-$2 haircut and straight razor shave that he has ever had. Against all odds, Carolyn escaped without adopting a darling Nepali child, which would have been a burden on the rest of the trip. (There were a few close calls on this one.) Enchanted with Nepal, but happy to retreat to the comforts of the First World, we flew east, in search of our next adventure.

Namaste Annapurna

2009-12-01T12:25:00.001-06:00

With three weeks to spend in Nepal, we decided to fully commit and signed up for a 17-day trek. This allowed us to slow down, gradually acclimate to the hiking, and come face to face with Nepali culture. We opted for one of the planet's classic treks, the Annapurna Circuit, which opened to the Western world in the 1970s. Nepal is home to the tallest mountains on Earth and this trek exposed us to many of these ice-bound beauties.

Before the hiking began, we put our Team Opps Himalaya Stimulus Plan into action. Code-named NEPAL (Nepali Employment Provided by American Laziness), it entailed hiring a guide and porter to help us along the way. This increased our costs considerably, but took lots of the unknown out of the journey, freed us from logistical concerns and heavy backpacks, and provided jobs for some hard-working locals. Our guide quickly earned the nickname "Silent Drew" for his tendency towards minimal chatter. Over the course of our weeks together, enormous cajoling, questioning, prodding, and joking loosened him up and we considered him a friend by the end. Our porter was an Equal Employment Opportunity poster child. Since we don't discriminate on the basis of age, we had a 55-year old grandfather from low-lying Southern Nepal carrying our gear while we lollygagged along with daypacks. Most of the time, we felt somewhere between guilty and sheepish about the arrangement, but kept coming back to the fact that he had done the trek many times and knew what he signed up for. Our porter, Ram, also evolved into a lovable character as the sojourn progressed and Ben is honored to have a constant reminder of him everytime he smells his backpack.

The terrain of the first half of the circuit was a slow and steady climb from low-lying foothills to the world's highest pass. Over ten days, we inched our way from summer to winter and lush jungle to desolate snowfields. Climatically, it was like walking from the equator to the polar ice cap in just over a week. We started our journey in steamy jungle foothills, which the residents have tamed with marching escalators of terraces clinging to the steep mountainsides. Most of the terraces contain rice paddies at the lower elevations, where water is plentiful, and these mountains enjoy a verdant green shag carpet, the product of the summer monsoons. As we climbed higher, the scenary grew drier and more desolate. Millet fields replaced rice paddies and the banana trees gave way to pines, which eventually dwindled and petered out. As we neared the high pass, we hiked through falling snow for three days and the barren surroundings took on a unblemished sheen of blazing white. Luckily in the lowlands, we grabbed some bamboo hiking sticks from the forest, as these would prove quite necessary on the slippery ascent.

Throughout the climb, we watched the local people change as well. At lower elevations, the faces of the villagers bear a close resemblance to those of North India. Likewise, the predominant religion in the low-lying areas is Hindu. This is definitely not the place to ask for a double cheeseburger. As we worked our way north, the Tibetan influence increased visibly. Shrines to Ganesh and Vishnu faded away, to be replaced by ubiquitous Buddhist prayer flags and wheels. These religious icons send prayers to heaven with every gust of wind or turn of the wheel, assisting the populace with their quest for Nirvana. Local faces also grew increasingly Tibetan at higher elevations, a stark reminder of the natural dividing line that these gigantic peaks provide.

The wildlife we encountered along the way tended toward the invertebrate. There must be a Himalayan law of nature that these beasts meet rather generous minimum size requirements. We tangled with spiders, mantids, millipedes, and moths, all of which were at least as long as our index fingers. With this in mind, we are thankful we did not visit during the monsoon, which is known as "leech season." Our fauna highlights were sightings of monkeys and blue sheep, though most of the animals we saw were livestock. This was a novelty at the beginning, but we quickly became immune to the crowing roosters and bellowing cows. Community Sustained Agriculture, organic produce, and free range livestock may be the latest fad in the US these days, but most of Nepal knows no alternative. The villages we passed through rely on their goats, oxen, and chickens for food, clothing, fuel, fertilizer, and horsepower, the same way most of the First World did before the Industrial Revolution. Our favorite farm animal was the shaggy yak, whose dung became a trusted source of valuable heat in the treeless and frigid highlands.

The extreme inaccessibility of the hamlets we passed through insures that even with a steady trickle of foreign backpackers infringing, the traditional way of life does not change rapidly. Any product that cannot be grown or raised in a particular village must be brought in on the back of a mule or human. This has slowed the influx of "modern" goods. From a sightseer's perspective, this is a wonderful thing, allowing us to see villages in something close to their original cultural state. It is less clear if this benefits the locals, who are struggling with the tug-of-war between the allure of consumerism and the preservation of their own culture.

Our excitement along the trail came from some predictable, but also many unexpected, directions. Certainly the towering peaks and cultural learnings provided the expected highlights. Often it was the more commonplace occurrences that we had not anticipated that got our hearts racing. The narrow, winding trail often clung to steep cliff sides and we had innumerable river crossings on swinging Indiana Jones-style bridges, with white water surging underneath. We saw copious graffiti bearing the Soviet hammer and sickle, a constant reminder of the Maoist element, whose on-going quest for a Communist state has boiled over into civil war at times in the last decade. We were stopped on the trail at times by armed soldiers while construction crews used dynamite to blast into the cliffs around us, in a controversial bid to build a road. Minutes after the explosions ceased (and well before the dust cleared), we were allowed to proceed, picking our way through the jagged stone remains and splintered fuses.

Outside of these unforeseen pulse-quickeners, we quickly settled into a satisfying routine on the trail. After the day's hike, typically lasting 3-6 hours, we settled into our lodge for the day. A large part of the appeal of this circuit is that one can avoid carrying and using camping gear and instead stay in local villages. The inns are called "tea houses", and consist of small plywood-walled rooms for sleeping, a common room for dining, and pit toilet. Lodging conditions have modernized considerably over the last few decades - it was not long ago that hikers slept on piles of straw on the the floor of a family's house. Once we checked in and ate lunch, we generally explored the town and often did some side hikes to higher elevations to assist with the acclimation. We also burned considerable time playing cards, as evidenced by the two decks that we wore out on the trek. With a handful of new games at our disposal, we will have no problem entertaining ourselves next time we get stranded somewhere. One of our most memorable nights was spent in a tiny local "cinema", where "Into Thin Air" was projected onto a hanging bed sheet while we huddled around the stove on yak skins and munched popcorn. Aside from the fact the the film ends with death and disaster in the Himalaya (which hit a bit too close to home for skittish trekkers), it was the prefect way to spend a cold, snowy evening.

In our next installment, we will detail our assault on the high pass. Enjoy the pictures, and see you soon!

To Asia...and Beyond!

2009-11-26T09:06:00.001-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving! We are thankful that you have been so patient as we've been off the grid. We covered lots of ground in the last few weeks and will break the journey into a few entries to make it more manageable for the reader (and writer).

When we said goodbye to Europe, we entered that time warp that comes with flying through the night and across many time zones. We landed in Hong Kong with our bodies telling us it was bedtime and our watches telling us it was early morning. Disembarking the plane, we were greeted by legions of local residents in surgical face masks passing out swine flu warning literature and using the latest technology to scan our bodies for fever. For Ben, it was eerily like the sterile welcome he got on his last visit to Hong Kong during the height of the SARS outbreak.

With six hours to burn before our next flight, we hopped on a bus to explore Lantau Island. Embracing the fact that we traded the continent of old cathedrals for the land of Buddha, we rode a gondola through the lush mountains to the top of the Ngong Ping plateau. Here we cavorted with the world's tallest outdoor seated bronze Buddha statue and lapped up the sunshine. We also visited the Po Lin Monastery amidst a sea of pesky tourists. Our quiet time for the day came at the Wisdom Path, a set of giant wooden pillars containing a carved prayer.

Brains muddy from 48 sleepless hours of travel, we finally reached the charming chaos of Kathmandu. Our cab ride to the hotel quickly impressed on us that we had left the first world behind. The jalopy itself was a battered wreck that must have been on its last legs a decade ago. The car's engine died anytime the car stopped moving, so the driver just flashed his lights as we approached intersections, while we closed our eyes and held on tightly. Many of Kathmandu's residents were wearing surgical masks too, but this was to protect their lungs from the choking clouds of smog and exhaust in the streets.

We booked a trek the following day and then wandered the city's bustling streets. Walking the maze of dusty alleys is energizing, heartbreaking, gut wrenching, and draining all at once. The streets are quite narrow and cabs, mopeds, rickshaws, and bicycles buzz past with horns blaring and immense faith in their ability to navigate at top speed with only inches to spare. Raw meat hangs in the open air of "butcher shops," which are shanties open to the street. Vendors call out from all sides in an attempt to snag the business of passersby. Ancient, wizened women sell marigolds for the faithful to offer on the Hindu shrines checkering the city. Touts incessantly approach the gora (Nepali for "gringo") with offers of trekking guides, hash, tiger balm, and anything else they think might earn them a buck. We pass mounds of fresh vegetables for sale, squashed rats on the road, beggars, and fancy restaurants with white linen. It is an invigorating day of exploration that leaves us exhausted and overstimulated. It ends abruptly when the nightly blackout rolls through town - the Nepali answer to the city's overwhelming demand for electricity after darkness falls. We picked out our expedition sleeping bags and down coats by flashlight and then got back to work on resetting our sleep schedules.

The first day of our trek looked on paper like a simple transport day, moving from the city to the countryside. In reality, we got eight hours of true immersion on a local bus with all the sights, sounds, and smells that entails. The first two hours were spent just escaping the sprawl of the Kathmandu Valley, with stops every few minutes to pick up anyone who waved at the bus. We started off as two of the five passengers on an empty bus, but quickly found it bursting at the seams. Each Nepali bus has a team of three employees who work together to pack it to the brim. One drives, while the other two hang out the open door calling out the bus's destination to all within earshot. When they acquire a passenger, the "hangers" put the luggage (and sometimes the passengers) on the bus's roof and do their best to jump in as the driver takes off again. The winding gravel road into the mountains is barely wide enough for two vehicles, so the hangers also walk along the side of the bus and beat a rhythm on the outside that tells the driver how much space he has whenever there is a bus or truck going in the opposite direction. Whoever thought Croatia's roads were unsafe has never been to Nepal, where each bus driver has a shrine on the dashboard with an idol of his favorite god in hope that this provides safe passage.

The bus ride was a grueling and entertaining affair, as we rocketed down the pockmarked road. The antique woman in the front of the bus sent a constant barrage of mucus laden spit out the window. Old men carrying straw baskets laughed loudly. Each bus has a distinct and circus-like horn, used liberally at every bend in the road to alert traffic from the other direction, so this carnival blare was a constant serenade. We stopped at the last gas station on the road to top off the tank and acquired our final cargo - four mammoth gas cans that bounced on the floor next to us for the rest of the trip. High on the noxious gasoline fumes, we listened to Bollywood hits in Hindi pouring out of the crackly speakers and prayed that no one would light a cigarette in our rolling Molotov cocktail.

(see youtube video of our bus ride at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIVomw_yZXY)

That night we went to bed giddy to be out of the city and anxious to see what adventures were lurking in the snow capped peaks we could see in the distance. See you soon for a synopsis of our trek!

European Swan Song

2009-11-02T16:12:00.000-06:00

It turns out that England really is as jolley, olde, and liberal with their vouwels as people say. We spent five relaxing days in London, taking in the sights and inserting "bloody" into as many sentences a possible for no good reason. London's tube (aka subway) system is incredibly efficient and we spent the days cruising the bowels of the city and popping up for a look from time to time.

Interspersed amongst the rows of classy buildings, one of London's highlights is its incredible park system. Most of the large parks are the remnants of royal estates and still owned by the monarchy. We took a peaceful run one morning through Hyde Park, which was once the preferred deer hunting ground of Henry VIII. We didn't see any deer stands, but there were some empty beer cans on the ground, so it was easy to visualize.

Besides running, we also found that we could get our heart rates up simply by crossing the street. With the cars driving on the opposite side of the road from the States, there was always a good shot of adreniline to be had as we swiveled to and fro before taking the plunge in any crossing. We both came away intact, but not with out some close calls. Taking the wheel in Australia should be quite a treat...

Another of London's most endearing qualities is the fact that most of its amazing museums are free of charge. We spent a few marvelous days exploring the British Museum and the Natural History Museum. The British Museum was especially poignant for us, as it gave us the chance to see many of the items the Brits have looted.....errr, "protected", over the years. Many of these antiquities are Egyptian, Greek, and Roman, and filled in the gaps witnessed on our visits to the sites themselves.

We felt like we should see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. So we did it and took the requisite photo. Sweeeeeet.

On top of the adventures that London offers everyone, it had two treats specifically for us. First, we got to reconnect with Carolyn's high school friend, Amy, who just moved to the city. She was a welcome friendly face and kind enough to introduce us to the renowned pub scene. Second, with the help of many parties (thanks all!) and despite a postal strike, we successfully imported an American computer. This will be invaluable in staying on top of our blog, backing up pics, planning ahead (from time to time), and generally staying in touch.

When we landed in Istanbul on September 12th, we knew that we had seven weeks to get to London, but little idea of the path we would take to get there. It's amazing to look back at all the adventures we've had in that span and a reminder that with some time and the right attitude (not to mention some cash), you can figure out just about anything.

Leaving London, we took the first flight on the around-the-world ticket that we bought this spring. Our first leg was a short one to the Netherlands, where we spent three days exploring Amsterdam. We rented a great apartment that quickly became home, especially since most of our exploration the first day consisted of what we could see through our rain-streaked windows. Things cleared up considerably the second day and we enjoyed walking down the bicycle-choked streets of this laid back city. Plus, Amsterdam has more canals than Venice, giving pedestrians ample opportunity to get away from busy avenues. Despite its seedy reputation for coffee houses (where you can smoke anything but tobacco) and the working girls of the Red Light District, we would be more apt to describe the city as charming.

We got a taste of the town's serious side too, visiting the house where Anne Frank and seven other Jews hid during the Nazi occupation in WWII. To get a more complete picture of the era, we also spent an afternoon in the Dutch Resistance Museum, which chronicles the trials of the Dutch people during the war.

Finally, we realize we just set a new record for the timeliness of this blog post, but would like to warn everyone not to get used to it as we are leaving for Nepal in a couple of days. We are both excited to leave the city scape for mountain vistas, but are not overly confident that wi-fi will be prevalent throughout the country. If that is the case, our next post will be to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving!

101 Dalmation...Raindrops

2009-10-30T19:30:00.000-05:00

Since our last post, we worked our way south down the Dalmation coast of Croatia. This stretch of rocky cliffs and pebble beaches on the Adriatic Sea is known for its stunning beauty - believe the hype. Less than 20 years ago, this area was shattered by war as the former country of Yugoslavia fractured. These days are long gone and we found Croatia to be full of friendly people, reasonably priced, brimming with history, and as gorgeous as it's reputed to be. Despite unseasonably cool temps and persistant drizzle, we came away satisfied, which is quite a feat.

Our first stop on the coast was the town of Split, known for its incredibly well-preserved Roman ruins. The highlight is Diocletian's Palace, built by the emperor in the third century A.D. The lure of the almighty dollar (or Kuna, as it were) seems to be winning out over the prudence of protection, as the palace is stuffed full of restaurants and vendors. Regardless, it was beautifully lit and peaceful at night. At dinner in Split, we did some community service by singing "Hit the Road, Jack" for our waitress's daughter. This worked out in our favor, as the restaurant quickly plied us with free glasses of wine to induce us to stop crowing.

From Split, we took a ferry to the island of Hvar, drawn by its reputation for 2724 hours of sunshine per year (yeah, really). The morning was crystal clear in Split, but degenerated on the boat ride, much to our chagrin. Hvar Town, as is the case for many Croatian coastal towns, is surrounded by walls built by the Venetians to keep out invaders. The town also has an impressive Venetian fortress perched on a high hill, which yielded expansive views of the old town, pristine sea, and surrounding islands. As with the rest of our time on the coast, it was too cold to swim, but the rocky beaches and turquoise water looked quite inviting. Because it is late in the season, the town was very quiet
, an omen of things to come.

From Hvar, we took a boat to the island of Korcula, the birthplace of Marco Polo. This town too was eerily quiet, which was great for playing a rousing game of Marco Polo (what else?), but made finding food challenging. It became apparent that as time wore on and we got further from the beaten path, services would be harder to come by.

Undeterred, we forged on to the island of Miljet, home to a National Park of the same name. The weather was stunning as we pulled in as the only two passengers aboard the catamaran ferry built to hold hundreds. We were delighted to find solitude and oblivious of all the evidence piling up in front of us. Little did we know as we stepped onto the deserted street in the town of Polace that this would become our prison over the next few days.

Unexpectedly, we were not greeted at the boat by the usual throngs of lodging peddlers. In a town with one street and about 20 buildings, it did not take long to find the tourist info office, which was extremely closed. Hmmm...maybe this was going to be more challenging than anticipated. A bit of wandering past shuttered hotels and restaurants put us in front of the town's lone open business, a mini mart with dust-covered wares. Inside, a local woman who would soon be affectionately known as "Old Bat" jumped up upon spying our conspicuous backpacks and offered us a room. Delighted by the calm of the sea and setting sun (not to mention the lack of other options), we forgot to ask if the room had heat.

The next day, we woke to find a thick mass of dark clouds dropping a torrent on the island. The temperature had plummeted and our vision of hiking in the park all day was quickly dashed. Luckily Tom Clancy writes long books, since we got a lot of reading time while huddled under the covers in our winter coats and hats in our furnace-free room. The rain broke briefly in the afternoon, so we "borrowed" some bikes from a rental shop closed for the season and tooled around the hilly island enough to verify that we truly were the only tourists there. Returning to town, we got our first inkling that we would not be leaving the next morning as planned, since the scheduled ferry never arrived.

That night, the rain transformed into a full blown tempest of streaking lightening and booming thunder. The sea was even choppier the next day, so as we waited longingly for the ferry that never came, we got to engage our creative abilities to pass the time. Our small apartment bore witness to endless cribbage duels, one-on-one charades, a fitness bootcamp on the balcony, and the two of us creating crossword puzzles for each other on the back of cereal boxes. Evening provided another opportunity to create a magical spaghetti dinner from the mini mart's aged stores.

Thoroughly afflicted with cabin fever, we walked out into the rain at 4:45 the next morning, determined to take matters into our own hands. The 5am bus rumored to run on the island (the only one of the day) did not materialize, so we put on our best hitchhiking smiles. After successfully packing ourselves into the back of a tiny hatchback, we arrived in a town whose ferry had been stuck in port by the storms. Much to the delight of all of us trying to escape the island, the operators decided to brave the still-surly sea and delivered us safely to the mainland. In retrospect, we were only marooned for three nights, but it cost us the chance to make our planned excursion into Montenegro. Luckily, that leaves us something to do on our next Around the World trip.

No visit to Croatia would be complete without a trip to the charming walled city of Dubrovnik, the so -called pearl of the Adriatic. Here we were blessed with a break in the weather that allowed us to walk atop the walls that circumnavigate the old town. This afforded us comprehensive views of the city's red-tiled roofs, narrow stone streets, and formidable defensive fortifications. For the delight of our faithful readers, we even took a cheesy senior picture shot suitable for framing (below). We also had the pleasure of renting a room over-looking the walls from an elderly woman who we dubbed "Aunt". The only English word in her vocabulary was "please", which delivered us many hilarious conversations consisting of various charades and a repeated drone of "please, please, please....".

From Dubrovnik, we turned north again, braving bus rides along what has recently been rated the world's fifth most dangerous stretch of road. We reconnected with our old friend the sun and spent a couple days meandering along the stunning cliffs that make up the coastline on our way back to Split. We spent nights in the cities of Makarska and Trogir, each of which has its own incredible collection of aging stone walls and cavernous churches. One simple highlight was stumbling upon a flat that had free laundry, which everyone stuck on public transport with us since has greatly appreciated.

From Croatia, we flew to London, where we're exploring and taking care of some administrative tasks. You'll get a full report soon and then we're off to Asia!

Hungary - Land of Goulash and Cousins

2009-10-20T03:10:00.003-05:00

From the thoroughly Western city of Vienna, we headed east to Budapest, Hungary, where one can still sense the vestiges of Communist rule. We dubbed our room for the first two nights the "Commie Cube", as it was a mammoth cavern with equal height, width, and length, and a heating element the size of a Yugo. It certainly wasn't cozy, but it was clean, quiet, and came fully decked out with a putting green. The weather delivered a relentless drizzle and temps near freezing for the bulk of our stay, so we were happy to have warm, dry bases of operation.

We had a one day respite from the rain and made the most of it by walking and gawking. Buda and Pest were two distinct cities separated by the mighty Danube until a bridge united them in 1111. Even 900 years later, they still retain distinct personalities - Buda with its leafy hills and imposing castle and Pest as the noisy, fast-paced urban area. Our favorite sites were the photogenic Parliment building, the view from the turrets of Mathias Church, and the sprawling bridges tying the two distinct cities together.

The highlight of our stay in Budapest was connecting with Carolyn's long lost Cousin, Tiana, who is in medical school there. We think it has been at least 15 years since Carolyn and Tiana got together, so obviously their lives have changed a bit since then. The reunion was a happy one, with a few dinners and Tiana giving us a personal tour through the city one night. She also generously offered up her flat for our last two nights in town and we got to enjoy the thrill of cooking in a real kitchen and watching trashy American TV shows on a couch via the internet. It is amazing what a treat that can be after months on the road. The role reversal was comical, with the thirty-somethings as the low budget backpackers and Tiana, the college student, as the established one with the nice flat. We promised to have an "adult" home for Tiana to visit when she comes to the States, although the specific location is to be determined.

One way that we are keeping our minds sharp while on constant holiday is wrestling with the rapidly shifting currency conversions that come with changing countries once or twice per week. In Hungary, 200 forints equals a US dollar, allowing us to walk around like mafia bosses with tens of thousands in bills stuffed in our pockets. This contrasts greatly with countries on the Euro, each of which is worth about $1.50. Imagine going from buying a Coke for 1.5 and feeling ripped off to buying one for 200 and being thrilled to buying one for 10 a few hours down the road and having no idea whether to be mad or glad. That was us this week.

While the math and the stacks of books we've plowed through on trains and buses keep our minds sharp, our bodies have taken a drubbing. Since there is no routine anymore, exercise comes mainly from walking. This comes in voluminous quantities but doesn't deliver the cardio workouts we enjoyed in our running days back home. The food, though usually quite tasty, has also been punishing on our taut elastic waistbands. Most meal decisions are focused on low cost with a quick turnaround, which means lots of grub that sticks to more than your ribs. European mothers must not tell their kids that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, because in our experience, it generally consists of crusty bread, jam, and secondhand smoke. Luckily markets are ubiquitous, so we scoop up fruit and veggie snacks often.

In an attempt to out maneuver the rain, we headed south from Budapest into Croatia. Our first stop was the capital city of Zagreb, which greeted us with dazzling blue skies. We spent the afternoon and evening wandering the streets and downing pizzas (see above), thrilled to jettison our raincoats.

The next morning we continued south to Plitvice Lakes National Park, where we took an incredible hike through the deciduous forest. Autumn has hit the park with full force and the hills surrounding the cascading lakes were painted in broad brushstrokes with bright yellow, orange, and red hues. We were thrilled to relish the peace of the woods after a string of big cities.

From the park, we made our way to the city of Split, on the coast of the Adriatic Sea. One of Croatia's best attributes for the lazy backpacker is that when you step off a bus, train, or boat, you are typically greeted by a jostling throng of locals hoping to rent you a room in their house. We love how cheap and easy this makes lodging...especially as we look cringingly ahead to hostels in London.

From Split we plan to work our way south down the Dalmatian Coast. More to Come! Thanks again for all your comments and thoughts.

Czech Us

2009-10-13T16:00:00.002-05:00

After our last post, we got to work on the transport for our next leg, from Greece to Croatia. Although this looks straight forward on a map, we found it exceedingly difficult, requiring some combination of trains and overnight busses that *might* get us where we wanted to go. Any notion that travelling is all romace can easily be squelched by researching this leg while paying for internet by the minute. In the end, we called an audible and leapfrogged Croatia for the time being, throwing caution to the wind and braving a flight to Prague on a discount carrier. Despite the confidence-leeching name of Wizz Air, the biggest issue on the flight was losing our Nutella spread to airport security (but not before pouring ourselves a sandwich in the pat-down area).

Prague delivered on our high expectations. The city is everything we hoped for, with pedestrian-friendly cobblestone streets, amazing architecture, and a river slicing through the center. It is certainly a touristy place, but since we avoided the summer high season we didn't find it to be too contrived or packed with tour groups. With the most reasonable prices we have found thus far, a skyline bristling with interesting towers and spires, and thousands of years of history, we would definitely recommend adding Prague to your list. Our highlight was the magnificent St. Vitus Cathedral inside Prague Castle, which was built over the course of 600 years and outfitted with flying buttresses and stunning stained glass.

Working our way south, our next destination was the quaint Czech town of Cesky Krumlov. A postcard-perfect Bohemian village of red-tiled roofs, rolling hills, a lazily meandering river, and the requisite castle, it proved the perfect place to relax between big cities. We wandered the maze of streets aimlessly, sampling a local speciality that the Czechs call "beer" and savoring a few days at a snail's pace.

One challenge of being a foreigner (especially one on a budget) is that you rarely know enough about how things work in a given place to get a good deal. We have overpaid on everything from food to transport to lodging, only to figure out the smart way to do things a short time later. This is frustrating for Ben, who always tries to get the best deal on everything, but is just the way of things when you're always new to a place. In short, our advice when planning a trip to Europe would be to avoid the Euro currency, if budget is a concern. One notable victory on this front came on our next leg. On our train to Vienna we teamed up with two Chinese and an Aussie to form an unconventional "family" and score a heavily discounted family ticket that allowed us to make the multihour trip for less than $10 each. One point for the good team!

We enjoyed Vienna, though it certainly felt like the big city that it is. The other issue that we ran into was one of our risk factors for the trip - cloudy skies and rain. Not very many people like rain on their parades, but we have identified ourselves as "solar powered" since before Obama made it cool. We have found, individually and together, that our moods sour in a hurry without sunshine. On the plus side, one great thing about Austria was being in a place where we had some small shred of language capability. Both of us studied German in high school and have retained a few scraps. It felt great, after weeks of non-comprehension, to recognize some words and to be able to say useful things like "hello," "thanks," and "Can I please sharpen my pencil?"

We spent our time wandering past many of Vienna's stately buildings and parks. We toured Schonbrunn, the immense summer palace and gardens of the Hapsburg Empire and marvelled at its gluttonous scope and splendor. Under the guise of being civilized folk, we also took in the opera at Vienna's ornate opera house. With Ben dressed to impress in his finest convertible pants, we gutted out about 45 minutes in the standing room area before conceding. This was long enough to confirm our preconceived notions - opera really is just overweight ladies screeching unintelligably.

Now it's off to Hungary, with Croatia next in line. If you have recommendations for either place, drop us a note!

It's All Greek to Us

2009-10-03T08:55:00.024-05:00

Truly, it is. After our last post we made our way to Athens, the cradle of Western civilization. Navigating Greece presents many challenges, since street signs and business names tend to look like a traffic jam of fraternity and sorority monikers piled atop each other. Luckily, as we found in Turkey, Greek public transport is easy to navigate and quite efficient, so we got around with few hitches. The scale and hubbub of Athens was a bit overwhelming, as most 4 million person cities are. We spent a long day touring the antiquities, the highlight being the world-renowned Acropolis. Set on one of the highest hills in the city, it affords sweeping views of the sprawling city. Crowned by the marble skeleton of the Parthenon, even the hefty admission fee and throng of cruise ship patrons could not dim the majesty of this historic place.

The following day, with legs tired of pounding cobblestones, we caught a ferry to the Greek isle of Mykonos. With comic predictability, we quickly became lost in the labyrinth of alleys leading into town as we tried to find our well-hidden lodging. We spent the next two days simmering on the pebble beaches and braving the chilly Aegean. Sadly, we didn't notice any immediate weight loss, even though we stuck religiously to a strict Mediterranean diet (98% gyros, 2% sand and sunblock). We will stay focused and keep trying.

With some beach time under our ever-expanding belts, we made for the mainland again to find some more active pursuits. Our next destination was Delphi, which the ancient Greeks regarded as the center of the world. There we visited the ruins of the multitude of treasuries erected to house the heaps of treasure offered to the Delphic Oracle. This famed seer set much of the course of Greek history, offering the advice that started wars, founded cities, and initiated marriages. Think of it as a personalized (and expensive) fortune cookie, without the bland cookie portion.

From Delphi, we headed north to the city of Kalambaka. The town lies in the shadow of the area's main attraction - the monasteries of Meteora. These operational 15th century monasteries are perched atop sheer pinnacles of rock, where the monks of that age sought refuge from the marauding Turks. We spent a day hiking to four of these impressive buildings. Thankfully they are equipped with stairs these days, since the monks traditionally entered by way of rope nets raised by hand.

Much of Greek history revolves around various deities and this was certainly the case at our next destination. After the intercity bus dropped us off on the shoulder of the six lane highway, we trudged and (Mom, stop reading) hitchhiked our way to the town of Litochoro. The town lies at the foot of Mt. Olympus, the home of the Gods in Greek Mythology. We spent two days ascending the 10,000 foot peak, with a comfortable overnight in the bunkhouse of a mountaineering refuge. The hike was steep and challenging and rewarded us with expansive mountain views on three sides. Sadly, we didn't spot any Greek Gods, but it's fair to say that standing above the clouds on the highest point in Greece was a religious experience.

Besides the impressive sights, a very rewarding piece of our sojourn in Greece has been the company of our fellow travelers. We've been blessed with good company at nearly every stop and appreciate the Aussies who lent us the computer, the Canadians who lent us their plastic pig dice game, the other Canadian who lent us his good hitchhiking karma, the Israelis and Dutch who gave us rides, and the Yankees who loaned us their guidebook. We are getting better at navigating the consistent unknown and feel blessed to experience all that we have.

See you soon somewhere north!!

P.S. - We are having a blast exploring new places and cultures and want for little. There are a few select things that we miss from home, as follows: 1) Spicy Tex-Mex and ice-cold Lone Star with riddle caps, 2) College football, especially since the Badgers and Longhorns are undefeated and marching towards an inevitable clash in the national title game, 3) Our family and friends (if you're reading this, that's probably you).

Turkish Delights

2009-09-20T06:32:00.026-05:00

We have quickly realized that our olfactories have been essentially wasted in the U.S. Relegated to primarily detecting what's for dinner or the occasional dirty diaper, they've grown flabby from disuse. Turkey is changing that in a hurry. The constant press of sweaty bodies on the trains, the odiferous assault of myriad spices in the bazaars, and wafting fumes from sidewalk cafes in all directions have quickly wrung our snouts through an intense bootcamp. Luckily for you, blogs don't yet convey scent (though someone is surely working on it). Take our word for it - the trip smells great so far.

Our first international stop was Istanbul (or Constantinople?), the dominant city in Turkey. This massive metropolis is built on the land bridge that connects Europe and Asia and visibly blends both influences. Ambling through town rewarded us with a hands-on history lesson spanning a few millenia and numerous empires. Roman, Byzantine, and Ottoman monuments and ruins abound. Highlights include the gargantuan Aya Sophia, which spent its first 900 years as the greatest church in Christiandom until it was converted to a mosque after the Muslim conquest in the 15th century. Additional adventures include haggling with incessent (and ubiquitous) rug salesmen, visiting cavernous mosques, the crush of bustling open air markets, and a peaceful cruise on the Bosphorus.

Our time in Istanbul reminded us why young kids need naps. On top of the aforementioned cornucopia of odors, the rest of our senses were similarily blitzed. The flood of new sights and sounds, the unfamiliar (but delectable) foods, and the common jostling of public places is exhausting. Harkened back to early childhood by our lack of comprehension, it is amazing to break out of our comfortable routines and see everything through new eyes. Just forgive us a nap here and there...

From the cosmopolitan, we soon traversed to the hinterlands of Cappadocia in Turkey's geographic center. This area is a geologic wonderland - a lunar landscape studded with fairy chimneys of rock. For thousands of years, the locals have burrowed into the stone and excavated houses and churches. We spent our time exploring some of these underground buildings and lived the experience for a few nights in a cozy cave hotel room.

A plane, a bus, and sweltering standing-room-only train delivered us to our curent haunt in Selcuk, near the Aegean coast. Our time here has been a relaxing cocktail of lounging poolside and exploring the famed ruins of the Roman city of Ephesus. Additionally, we took in the Basillica of St. John, where the apostle purportedly wrote his gospel and was buried. Finally, we visited one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the Temple of Artemis. The temple is primarily rubble these days, but its 127 towering marble columns once made it a formidable building larger than the Parthenon in Athens.

We are glad that Ramadan is over and we can once again eat lunch without feeling guilty for flaunting our food in front of the fasting locals. We are also happy for sunny days, a decent exchange rate, freedom to spend our days how we choose, and people who speak English better than we speak Turkish. Carolyn is happy that she can get pants hemmed here for less than $4. Ben is happy that he doesn't have to try to talk to any more Turkish tailors, since the last conversation went something like this:

Ben - "Excuse me sir, can you hem pants?"
Smiling Turk - (blank friendly stare)
Ben - "Could you make these pants shorter?" (demonstrating on cuffs how much might come off)
Smiling Turk - (blank friendly stare)
Ben - "Pants. Short" (gesturing wildly with flailing arms)
Smiling Turk - "Do you speak English?"

Yikes. We knew our Turkish was non-existent and our French/German/Spanish were rudimentry, but never thought to brush up on our English. I am sure it will lead to many more fun encounters as the road takes us on. Cheers for now - we'll see you somewhere farther north!

The Spice of Life

2009-09-11T15:46:00.010-05:00

The last few weeks added thousands of miles to the odometer and a vast range of experiences to our trip log. After our last post, we doubled back and headed west into Yellowstone National Park and then on to the Tetons. These jagged teeth of rock have been a perennial favorite for us and this visit delivered on our high expectations once again. We spent three days and two nights backpacking a 22-mile loop that took us into the high country. Part of our route wound along the menacingly named Death Canyon Shelf, which yielded eye-popping views in all directions. Sorry Glacier, but we have a new favorite backpacking route this trip.

Our next stop took us further west, as we curled around the foot of the Tetons to Grand Targhee Ski Area. While skiing the powder there this winter, we heard about their annual Bluegrass Festival and decided to see if we could shoehorn it into our busy schedules. The Fest delivered on the promise, mixing the unbeatable elixir of foot-stomping music, mountain views, and cold beer. Carolyn even found time to give the hippies a hula hoop lesson as the night wore on. That night in Southern Idaho, we were treated to a moonless night, which delivered a blizzard of stars sprayed across the sky.

Soon it was time to bid the mountains farewell and initiate the long slog through the Great Plains on our way to the Midwest. This is “lower your head and plow through” country and we did just that. We made a one-night stop in Theodore Roosevelt National Park and admired the badlands and buffalo, but the rest of the journey was essentially a necessary evil. The highlight was a lunch stop in Bismark, ND, which delivered us the elusive Delaware license plate! We were starting to theorize that either the DE driving test must be near impossible or that most DE residents are luddites and fear fancy technology like cars….

Our roadtrip officially finished, we relished a bit of relaxation and pampering at the hands of our parents in Minnesota and Wisconsin. Team Opps Sr. (including the hound, Gordy) took us backpacking in the Porcupine Mountains of Northern Michigan, where we stayed in a rustic cabin for a few nights. The Bruners graciously beat us at tennis and allowed us to engage in the age-old battle between running and bottomless chocolate chip cookies. According to the scale, the cookies are winning this round.

The past week gave us a bit of time apart, so we can truly appreciate each other in the months to come. Carolyn was in Chicago, where she threw an immense weight from her shoulders by successfully defending her Master’s thesis. Many thanks to fulltime sister-in-law and part-time thesis advisor Leah, whose guidance and support through the whole ordeal were priceless. She was also able to catch up with great friends, and paid a much needed visit to her old hair dresser. Ben spent the time in the mountains of New Mexico and Colorado on his annual “boys” backpacking trip. Ben and the fun boys had another epic trip, with numerous campfires, a night in the sand dunes sleeping under the stars, and ample laughter.

This evening we take 9/11 back for the good team. We are flying to Istanbul to begin the international portion of our trip in earnest. We don’t know what to expect in terms of internet access, so our blog cadence will likely be sporadic. However, we still look forward to sharing our adventures with you and appreciate your readership and comments.

Godspeed,
Team Opps

P.S. We are hard to please and don’t praise companies often, but wanted to share a great customer service story that needs repeating. In December, we bought a Panasonic digital camera for our trip. It has served us well thus far, but had a mechanical issue while Ben was backpacking this week. This put us in a very precarious position, with only 2.5 days to address the issue before going overseas. A quick call to Panasonic set in motion a Herculean effort on their part to overnight ship us a brand new camera to take on our trip. There was no charge for this and they called us at least six times during the process to let us know the status along the way. Ben, having worked for a large company and seen how challenging it is to get customer service right, was blown away by. Thanks Panasonic – we’ve gone from enjoying your product to truly trusting you as a company.

Where Have You Been?

2009-08-22T18:27:00.016-05:00

Hello faithful readers! We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Thanks for coming back for the next installment.

After our last post, we dove headlong into the rugged terrain of Glacier National Park in Northern Montana. We took a number of moderate day hikes, exposing us to numerous mountain goats, bighorn sheep, glacier-fed alpine lakes, and endless marches of jagged peaks.

One of these hikes, through carpets of wildflowers, led us to Grinnell Glacier. Besides the stunning beauty, Ben finally had success when asking his incessant question of fellow hikers with snacks…”Do you need a hand with that?” For the first time ever, this yielded two delectable peanut butter cookies. It is not always easy to be selfless, but we enjoyed extending a helping hand (or mouth, in this case) to peers whose packs needed a bit of lightening. We munched our cookies at the edge of the milky glacial lake and felt happy to be alive and in paradise.

After our hike, we stumbled up the weekly Hootenanny at the historic Many Glacier lodge. Go ahead and look up the word “hootenanny” – we’re not making this up. Every Sunday night through the summer, the lodge staff puts on a live music show for the guests. We had a great time shucking and jiving to the wide array of tunes pouring out of the barmaid’s piano, the bellhop’s guitar, and the potential serial killer’s violin.

While in Glacier, we did an overnight backpacking trip to Gunsight Lake. Ben had hiked past the lake on a backcountry trip with his buddies in 2000 and wanted to recapture and share some of the awe that he felt on that trip. After pitching camp, we hiked to Gunsight Pass (the notch in the mountains in the pic below) to stretch our legs and see the other side. Mountain passes have become addictive on this trip and our heads dance with wild visions of what beckons on the other side as we climb. We have not been disappointed yet and this was no exception. We had a snack with a mother mountain goat and her kid and soaked up the crisp air and exceptional views.

One bonus of camping in grizzly country is that you share a common cooking area with fellow backpackers. Here we met lots of interesting characters, swapped hilarity, and received a gift equivalent to a bar of gold in the backcountry – a Hershey Bar with almonds (thanks Jesssica and Brian!). We also had a close encounter with a gargantuan bull moose at this site. We are definitely not in Texas anymore.

From Glacier, we sped south to the friendly confines of Bozeman to spend time with Carolyn’s brother Steve and his family. While there, we got a crash course in parenthood by babysitting our niece (18 months) and nephew (3 years) for four days while their parents were out of town. The wee ones reminded us how to appreciate lots of the little things in life that we take for granted, like how fun mud puddles and hugs are. They are well-behaved kids and we’re liberal with our ice cream as babysitters, but it’s fair to say that all parties were happy when their parents returned from afar. We relish our roles as aunt and uncle and continue to be amazed by all of you who are parents.

While in Montana, we also celebrated our two year wedding anniversary, returning to Chico Hot Springs where we were married. We soaked in the hot water, walked the grounds, and shared that wedding day giddiness all over again. It probably goes without saying, but as with any worthwhile celebration, there was plenty of bacon consumption too.

Our next destination brought a reprise of the aunt and uncle roles, with a long weekend in Powell, WY, where Ben’s brother Zac lives. We enjoyed delicious meals, spirited card games, and loads of wrestling with three little Oppslings. Ben and Zac broke away for a morning to hike up Heart Mountain, which is the high point in the valley and a prominent local landmark. Many thanks to niece Gretel, who donated her bedroom during our visit.

Next stop: the Tetons!

A Case of the Mondays

2009-07-31T15:06:00.011-05:00

At our last writing, we were headed to Olympic National Park in the farthest northwest corner of the Lower 48. This sprawling park is renowned for the fact that it spans three unique ecosystems – lush rain forest, high alpine peaks, and rugged Pacific coast. Our focus on this visit was the craggy coast and we lined up an overnight backpacking excursion. There are few places in the temperate world where you can walk along miles and miles of undeveloped coastline, so we wanted to make the most of it. We made our hike much more interesting than it needed to be by disregarding our tide schedule and trudging out near high tide. This injected lots of exciting opportunities to duck under gigantic driftwood logs and scramble over slippery rocks in alternating time with the lapping waves. It seems the rangers really do know what they are talking about.

Besides its rocky, unspoiled beauty, this shoreline is also famous for its smothering fog. We got to experience plenty of both. In one of our sunny interludes, as we sat by our campfire on the beach and stared out at the crashing surf, Carolyn announced that she was ready to see something swimming in the ocean. As if on cue, a sea otter munching on clams leisurely paddled past. That evening as the tide went out, we mucked around in the abundant tide pools, prodding anemones, starfish, and crabs at will. At dinner that night, Carolyn sealed her position as Ben’s favorite camping accomplice with four delectable words, “You can finish it.” The sun gave us a spectacular send-off, with an orange sky tickling the sea stacks to the endless sound of pounding breakers.

The next day we headed back towards civilization, camping in the shadow of Hurricane Ridge. Then it was back across the Puget Sound and north to Vancouver. After nearly two months on the road, we were finally going a tiny bit international, eh. All of Ben’s business trips to romantic destinations like Oklahoma City paid themselves off when we cashed in the accumulated hotel points for a few Hilton nights in the city. We enjoyed a lavish two room suite with impossibly white linens and one giant TV per guest. We spent our time walking the bustling streets and riding public transportation, usually overwhelmed by the cacophony around us. We feasted on lots of seafood and produce, including the frugal triumph of an all-you-can-eat sushi lunch for $12. We have come to love Mondays for things like that – all the part-time tourists get back to work and us full-time tourists get back to solitude and lower prices. This summer, having a “case of the Mondays” has gone from being the dreaded illness that rears its ugly head on Sunday afternoons to something to celebrate.

The Pacific Northwest is experiencing record heat this summer. We felt this firsthand on our visit to Whistler, which was baking in 35 degree Celsius heat. We couldn’t remember the conversion formula either, but trust us, it’s hot. The entire area is preparing to host the 2010 Winter Olympics and the crowds have descended early to see the venues. With no more free hotel nights, it didn’t take long for the heat and hordes to chase us back to the States.

Our next stop was North Cascades National Park in Northern Washington where we hiked and camped. Our loop trail was cut short by a fast-approaching thunderstorm that spooked us from the exposed ridgeline and soaked us to the bone before we could retreat to the car. Our campsite didn’t offer much relief. We either camped right under a waterfall with an amazing pyrotechnic accompaniment or we were treated to one incredible thunderstorm. We’re leaning towards the latter, as we found out the next morning that the road we came in was buried by a mudslide in the night. Luckily, we’re now eastbound and tore through the scorched plains of Eastern Washington yesterday. It was mind-numbing driving, so we took out the atlas and played a rousing game of “What would be worse than living in Lake Charles, LA?” Sorry to the 12,500 residents of Williston, ND, but your town is the only place in the Lower 48 deemed worse this time around.

Today we blew through the Idaho panhandle and into Montana, our home for the next week…

P.S. If any of you fine readers see a car with a Delaware license plate, please send them our way. This has been our only remaining plate for a few weeks now and it’s becoming quite vexing.

Of Mountains and Metros

2009-07-23T12:56:00.020-05:00

Hello vicarious vacationers and welcome to the Pacific Northwest. After a few days on the Oregon coast, we turned inland to Crater Lake National Park. The aptly named lake sits in the gigantic crater of an extinct volcano and is the deepest in the US. We hiked to the top of Mt. Scott, the highest point in the park, for a bird’s eye view of the stunning blue water. Besides the view, we were rewarded with butterfly flurries along the way with a continual stream of the paper winged rascals fluttering by us in the wind. Sadly, mosquito flurries followed at our campsite later that night.

From Crater Lake, we made for Portland, with a quick stop for a locals’ favorite day hike in the shadow of Mt. Hood (great tip, Doc!). The trail’s first destination was the shores of the glassy expanse fittingly known as Mirror Lake, which afforded us a great view of the actual and an inverted Hood. Further up the trail, we crested at a knob called Tom, Dick, & Harry. Delightedly, we found ourselves surrounded by snow-shrouded sentinels, including the volcanic peaks of Mount St. Helens, Mt. Adams, Mt. Jefferson, and of course, Mt. Hood. We even got a sneak preview of Mt. Rainier’s icy crown, which our close friend the atlas tells us is at least 75 miles away as the crow flies.

Portland rolled out the red carpet that afternoon, bathing itself in sun, offering up cold beer to thirsty throats, and providing an endless array of endearing streets to entice the carefree pedestrian. We did not last long in this pressure cooker of urban relaxation, hastily declaring a “city day” and enjoying everything the town has to offer. This included an expertly Pricelined hotel and the gluttony of two pillows apiece and hot showers that did not run on quarters!

Our next leg was a few days in Mt. Rainier National Park, which quickly snagged the honor of dark horse destination thus far on our trip. We had minimal expectations of the park, assuming that it was merely a tall mountain and a visitors’ center. Instead we found miles and miles of hiking trails, verdant mountains on all sides, and a landscape smothered in vibrant wildflowers. All of this was in addition to the glaciated specter of Rainier lurking around every turn and over every pass. In the evenings, after long days of summer sun, we could hear the thunderous rumblings of the glaciers shifting and groaning on the mountain. We loved our time here and added it to the ever-growing list of places that deserve another trip and further exploration.

After Rainier, civilization beckoned once again and we pointed our two-door mobile home towards Seattle. Here we were lucky enough to stay with a friend and her charming family near the University of Washington (thanks again, Sarah and Michael!). A few of the many luxuries at our B&B included a washing machine, home cooking, and free Pokeman lessons from 6 year old Nigel. By day, we donned the white Reeboks and fanny packs and did a stint as tourists, walking through the Pike Place Market, checking out the Fremont Troll, and gorging ourselves on blackberries at Gas Works Park. On our way out of town we were thrilled to intersect more Austin friends, who rose to the mighty challenge of finding a non-chain restaurant in Bellevue (thanks Eric and Cynthia!).

Last night, we left Seattle in our rear view mirrors, hopping a ferry to the Olympic Peninsula and to our next exploit…

P.S. As always, thanks for your positive feedback. The traveling part is easy for us, but the documentation can feel like work. We’re glad that we can provide you a weekly break from reality to trek with us!

The Generosity of Strangers and a Hard Right Turn

2009-07-15T13:40:00.018-05:00

The Opps Odyssey rolled back into motion with a trip to Yosemite National Park in Central California. As expected, the park was crawling with visitors, so we made it brief and memorable. We spent our one full day in the park hiking up the iconic Half Dome in Yosemite Valley. The bulk of the ~16 mile hike was easy going, with reasonable climbs and gorgeous waterfalls. The dicey part comes when you make the last stab at the summit and ascend a “ladder” made of steel cables, rickety 2x4s, and metal rods drilled into the huge slab of rock. Heaving yourself up and down would not be too onerous by itself, but because of the intimidating nature of this portion of the climb it tends to get congested. On both our ascent and descent, we spent a lot of time just clinging to the cables and waiting for the tangle of bodies to clear. At least we were treated to some stunning views while we waited. (It appears that video is not pulling through for FaceBook users, so go to www.oppsodyssey.blogspot.com to see the video).

The next morning, we took a hike through the Mariposa Grove of giant sequoias. These behemoths are the planet’s largest living things, which was easy to believe as we stared up at them slack jawed. This grove was the first parcel of land in the U.S. set aside as a national park. The fact that President Lincoln saw the value in protecting these trees made them all the more impressive.

From Yosemite, we headed to Lake Tahoe, where we found beauty and lots of hospitality. Tahoe was merely a curiosity to us, since we hadn’t been there before. The lake itself was a startling blue and wreathed by mountains on all sides. We took a great hike on Mt. Tallac in the Desolation Wilderness (thanks for the recommendation Charlie and Stephanie!) to stretch out our tired legs. This was all well and good, but the real gems of Tahoe were our neighbors. Over the course of our two nights there, we met three great families who entertained us and plied us with luxuries like steak and corn on the cob from the grill, salad with fresh veggies, and campfire s’mores. Thanks to Mike, Don, Brian, Heather and your families for the generosity – Ben can’t remember ever being full two nights in a row while camping!

Our next destination was the little visited Lassen Volcanic National Park. The park is an active volcanic area, which is evident in the numerous steaming fumaroles and gurgling mudpots heated by underground magma. We also had our first opportunity to climb an active volcano, hiking to the highest point in the park, Lassen Peak. This delivered stunning views of the surrounding wilderness, including Mt. Shasta in the distance.

After Lassen, we bolted for the coast and turned a literal and figurative corner. We cheered when we reached the Pacific. At that point, we took a hard right turn and the overriding direction of our trip changed from westbound to northbound. We camped near the beach for the next three nights and were treated to the West Coast’s renowned picture-perfect sunsets and notorious morning fog. With sand in every crevasse, we strayed from the coast long enough for a hike through the towering trees in Redwoods National Park. Walking under the tallest living things on the planet challenges any conception that you have perspective, as it takes three different neck cranes to take in the full height of the mature trees. This must be what trekking on the forest moon of Endor is like, though we didn’t see any ewoks.

Yesterday, we reached Oregon and jumped up and down on its celebrated craggy coastline. Carolyn has never been here before and lots of adventures beckon!

Out of the Frying Pan….and into the Sky

2009-07-09T19:01:00.022-05:00

Sorry for the slow pace of updates over the last two weeks. We just took a vacation from our vacation, consisting of ten days in God’s Country (you know…Wisconsin) with family and friends. We had the pleasure of spending time with the extended Bruner and Opps clans, as well as our immediate families. All those hours spent tossing nieces and nephews around, gorging on unhealthy food, and throttling our families in various competitive pursuits left little time for blogging. Now we’re back on the road and aiming to return to our previous posting cadence.

Our last update came as we fled the scorching deserts of Southern Utah. Perhaps counter intuitively, we found refuge in the arid state of Nevada. We spent a few days cooling off in a wonderful oasis of mountains floating in a sea of desert called Great Basin National Park. This park is so named because none of the precipitation falling in a massive area between the Sierras and the Rockies ever makes it to an ocean. The water in this giant bowl collects in ~200 different low places and eventually evaporates. The park’s snow-capped peaks and cool weather were a welcome change. We hiked to a bristlecone pine forest and marveled at these gnarled beings, some of whom live past 4000 years old. Staring at these ancient organisms, some of whom predate the mighty Pyramids of Giza, was a humbling experience and another reminder of our place in the universe’s pecking order. Our hike took us through high alpine areas where spring is just arriving, with snowpack still melting away and the aspens beginning to bud.

The next leg of our journey took us across the barren width of the Silver State. This is the Nevada that you picture, with scrub and low mountains as far as the eye can see in every direction. It often felt like living a Wiley Coyote cartoon, where the backdrop just keeps repeating itself. We crested many passes, looked out at the moonscape before us, and asked each other “Didn’t we just drive through this?” The monotony set us up to appreciate the Sierra Range all the more when we reached California. Our first night in CA was spent next to a roaring river a short hike from an amazing igneous rock formation called the Devil’s Postpile.

Our last big hurdle before the promise of heading to Wisco to sleep in a bed was our Mt. Whitney summit attempt. We spent a few nights camping near the trailhead, with the highest point in the Lower 48 ceaselessly lurking in our sights and our thoughts. While we acclimated to the altitude, we gathered intelligence on the state of the mountain. When we applied for our permit in February, we hoped the peak would be clear of snow by the end of June, granting us relatively simple passage. Unfortunately, the various reports we cobbled together held that snow and ice were still ubiquitous on the trail and that crampons and ice axes were necessary. Since these items were not in the budget (not to mention our lack of experience with them), we resigned ourselves to advancing as far as the mountain would let safely proceed and quelled our hopes of reaching the apex.

Our secondary goal for the day was to have a safe and fun hike. Our primary goal was to avoid carrying a bag of excrement. Because Mt. Whitney concentrates all of its visitors on a narrow band of trails, regulations require hikers to pack out all human waste. Upon permit pick-up, we were given portable toilet bags and a gut-wrenching explanation on how to use them. Time to get good at holding it....

We left camp at 3am on summit day, after six hours of tossing, turning, and feigning sleep. As we hiked through the dark with our headlamps, we were treated to a gorgeous sunrise over a thunderstorm in the valley below. The first rays of sun hitting Whitney’s jagged fangs were spectacular and we felt that even without reaching the top, the hike itself would justify the trip. We encountered our first significant snow and ice fields at 12000’, five miles from the top. To our delight, we found that with hiking poles and Yak Tracks on our boots, we were able to navigate the slick slopes safely. We powered on to the summit, our heads feeling cloudier with every step over the last three miles. The excitement of cresting the peak was short-lived, as the thin air at 14500’ gave Ben a wicked headache. After a few pics, we beat a hasty retreat to lower elevations and the oxygen-rich air that beckoned. We completed the 22-mile roundtrip hike in 15 hours, gaining (and then losing) 6000’ of elevation along the way. Most importantly, we didn't have to carry a backpack full of poop! The mountain was a fun mental and physical challenge and we felt justified in going out for greasy cheeseburgers in celebration.

After our time of luxury surrounded by family, friends, beds, and plumbing, we are excited to return to the road and the simplicity of life it brings. Tomorrow we drive through the orchards and vineyards of Central CA and on to our next adventure! As always, thanks for reading, for your supportive comments, and your suggestions on destinations to add to the list.

Buckskin Gulch

2009-06-20T19:34:00.015-05:00

In a burst of prolific writing, we’re treating you to two posts in one day. We have the luxury of being trapped in Milford, UT, waiting out a dust storm that has closed down the roads. Based on our experience here, Milford consists mainly of greasy burgers, free wi-fi, and zero visibility. This is the perfect combination of factors to help us chronicle our expedition through Buckskin Gulch on the Utah/Arizona border.

The trip is a 22-mile jaunt through a narrow slot canyon. Based on our research, we knew to anticipate sheer and soaring cliffs closing in from both sides for the bulk of the trip. The canyon delivered this in spades. The biggest risk in the slot comes from flash floods, which send torrents of water from which there is no escape. Thankfully, despite some sprinkles and few thunderous sounds that had our knees knocking, we didn’t run into any flooding. See the pic below – the log jammed in the canyon above Carolyn gives you a sense of how high the water gets during flood stage.

The first day was a fairly grueling 13-mile hike to a spot high enough off the river bed to camp without fear of washout. On top of typical backpacking challenges like rocky ground and heavy packs, there were numerous places where we had to remove our packs to climb over boulders or because the canyon was too tight to fit through unless you turned sideways. One of our favorite challenges was a ~15 foot slick rock face that we had to essentially rappel down, after lowering our packs. Our least favorite challenge were the numerous cesspools filled with stanky, opaque water left from the last flash flood (and the occasional floating dead mouse to amp up the gag factor). Turn your laptop or monitor 90 degrees to the right to enjoy the cesspool video footage below.

We didn’t see anyone in the canyon all day and the solitude was overwhelming.
This is a wilderness area and completely devoid of any human “improvement.” It is a humbling experience to be faced by nature without all the standard conveniences of modern life – the canyon made us feel very small, which is a great reminder every now and again.

After a restless night, owing to the echoing cacophony of bird banter, we hiked 9 miles out of the canyon. The real adventure of the day came in trying to find a ride back to our car, which was ~15 miles away by horrific dirt road. This is where Ben’s unwillingness to pay $75 for a shuttle, and complete willingness to try to talk anyone into anything, were put to the test. After a couple hours of melting in the sun, Carolyn used her beguiling charms to talk the guy driving the tanker truck that was pumping out the porta-pots into driving Ben to the car. Talk about travelling in style…

After our Buckskin adventure, we went to Zion National Park, which we’ve both historically considered a favorite. Sadly, the park was completely overrun by the showered masses. We pounded out a hike up Angel’s Landing, which is one of Ben’s top hikes of all time. The route takes you along a fin of rock with vertical cliffs on either side to a flat promontory. Much of the trail is edged by chains, where there are no handholds. Despite the hordes of fellow trekkers, the beauty of the trail was undiminished. We also took a quick hike upstream into the Narrows (and yes, Gina, we thought we were SO cool). With those hikes under our belt, we made a mad dash from Zion in search of solitude….and found just that trapped in a diner in Milford, UT.

Canyon Country

2009-06-20T16:05:00.014-05:00

Greetings from our office (which happens to double as a Laundromat) in St. George, Utah. After many miles and lots of grime, it was time for a shower, clean clothes, and some electricity to feed our voracious devices. One of this week’s findings is that Ben’s tolerance for not showering is greater than Carolyn’s tolerance for Ben not showering. Fancy that.

After a great bluegrass show from Oakhurst in Denver with Noonan, Gina, Brian “T-Baggins” Taylor, and his girlfriend Bizz, we again set our sights west and headed towards Gunnison, CO. Our grandiose driving plans were quickly cut short when we fell head over heels for a National Forest campsite tucked in the mountains under towering pines near Independence Pass. It called to us and our driving ambitions were dashed for the day, so we took a nice hike to the Continental Divide and were serenaded to sleep by a roaring stream next to our site. We love that this trip allows us to call audibles at will, so we can come and go from each place as we please. It is a rarity in the typically compressed American vacation.

The next day, we made it to Gunnison and camped near the river at the bottom of the Black Canyon in the national park of the same name. The canyon was spectacular, but we were nagged by cloudy skies and intermittent rain. The following morning, the sun asserted itself and we got to see the canyon in its glory. Sadly, like much of what we’ll see, the photos don’t do it justice. We prefer to blame that on the camera, rather than user incompetence. If you're looking for a challenge, try to find Ben in the picture below on the left. After leaving the park, we headed to Telluride and Ouray, CO, the latter of which rewarded us with a soak in some hot springs (good call, Elizabeth!). This area was stunning, with jagged snow-covered peaks in all directions.

From here, we entered the vast expanses of arid rock that make up Southern Utah. The seemingly infinite expanses of parched rock which have been sculpted through the eons by unseen water are quite a juxtaposition to behold. Half of the passengers in our car were delighted by this barren scenery and the other half pined for pines (and other flora), but all parties shall remain nameless in this matter. We did a few short hikes at Natural Bridges National Monument and Capital Reef National Park on our way to Bryce Canyon National Park.

At Bryce we explored the fanciful hoodoos eroded from the soft sandstone. We also met some fine German lads and got to dazzle them with our cobweb-coated high school Deutsch vocabularies. The number of Europeans we’ve met in the parks is incredible - in places, they outnumber the Americans. Regardless of nationality, we are thrilled by the endless stream of friendly and interesting people we’ve met. We are not sure if it’s self selection by park lovers (i.e. all campers are cool), the luck of catching people on vacation (i.e. people are cool when they’re on vacation), the change in our viewpoint since we’re on vacation ourselves (i.e. people are always cool, but we’ve been too busy to notice), or something else entirely…..but we like it.

Tune in to our next post for the high and lowlights of our backpacking expedition into the Buckskin Gulch slot canyon!

P.S. Sharp-eyed blog consumers will notice that our McDonald’s count is slowly creeping upward. We’re actually way behind forecast and we attribute this to the fact that we’ve rarely travelled on interstate highways thus far. The purpose of the count is to appall our readers with the number of fast food joints littering our highways and to give us something else to look for on long, lonely drives. One of our goals this summer is to avoid eating at any chain restaurants. So far this hasn’t been hard and we’ve been rewarded with some pretty eclectic pit stops. Just doing our part to keep it real…

Our First Week

2009-06-11T15:08:00.015-05:00

Greetings from Denver! We are fortunate to have friends to drop in on across the country, and the Noonans are no exception. We are enjoying an “administrative day” by doing some laundry and updating our blog at Casa de Noonan. It has been an incredible trip already and we can’t believe it has only been six days! This is just the beginning, but we feel like we’ve already seen and done a lot.

After leaving the friendly confines of the Hsia House (thanks Marcus and Jocelyn!), we barreled northwest through Texas and spent three nights between Caprock Canyons and Palo Duro TX State Parks. Both delivered some scenic hikes, horned toad sightings and scorching, dry weather. Our biggest treat was sleeping with the rain fly off the tent and lavishing ourselves with the cool desert breeze at night. From Palo Duro, we set our sights westward and made for New Mexico. After ~700 miles and a quick stop at the Cadillac Ranch, we finally made it out of Texas.

We had never been to Northern New Mexico and took some time to explore Albuquerque and Santa Fe. Our interest in cities is generally less powerful than the pull of wide open spaces, so it wasn’t long before we turned north and picked our way through the towering cliffs and the beginnings of pine forests. We camped at the Echo Amphitheater in the Carson National Forest. It felt great to leave the high plains behind and feel enough chill in the air to build a roaring campfire.

From New Mexico, we headed north to Colorado and took a soak in the natural hot springs in Pagosa Springs. Then it was on to Mesa Verde National Park to explore some Anasazi ruins. We toured the impressive Cliff Palace and Balcony House cliff dwellings, built nearly 800 years ago. Rain chased us to Durango, where we were lucky enough to get a roof over our heads (thanks Anne!).

The next day, we rolled to Great Sand Dunes National Park, before again being driven onward by rain. We paid a visit to Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs and then made it to Denver in time to have a Leinenkugel’s nightcap with Noonan and Gina. This morning we woke to little Noonans jumping on the bed (and us). We followed that with a lung-searing run through Red Rocks amphitheater and now we’re relaxing in anticipation of the Oakhurst concert tonight.

It is probably premature to make this call, but we love being on the road. We met a guy at Mesa Verde who has been traveling for 10 years straight. He left on a trip like ours and has been everywhere at some point and nowhere permanently ever since. We don’t aspire to anything that audacious, but it is inspiring to see people following their hearts even when it doesn’t fit society’s norms. That’s all for this week – much more to come as we again turn west and head towards the hoodoos of Southern Utah!

P.S. Sorry Mom. Despite your request that we pick up any hitchhikers we come across, we’re a bit tight on space and won’t be able to accommodate any other unshowered souls at this juncture.

Where are we going?

2009-04-02T16:00:00.000-05:00

We plan to follow this dashing red line around the planet...

Does it remind you of Indiana Jones? Me too.

Subject to the whims of the road, we plan to set out from Austin, TX, drive around the Western US, and then set out in an easterly direction to Europe, Asia, Australia, and South America. We look forward to sharing our adventures with you!

Holy Cats!

2009-04-02T13:29:00.000-05:00

We have a blog. I guess we should do something interesting now that we're on stage. Stay tuned for that...