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Into the Andes…

October 11, 2012 — Leave a comment

 

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After my adventures in Ecuador, I decided it was time to head for the mountains- namely, the soaring Andes Mountains of Central Peru. I had highlighted the Peruvian city of Huaraz as a MUST SEE during the planning phases of my trip, and knew that if I wanted to have more than a day or two in the high Andes, I had to get a move on. Initiate OPERATION: HUARAZ…

What a mission. I was in Vilcabamba, Southern Ecuador, when I made the decision to head straight for Huaraz, which is in Central Peru. I knew it would be a long trip, and that I might have to break it up into two days. After poring over the map, I had a plan in mind, and set my alarm for 5am in order to make the 530am bus to Loja, Ecuador to start the journey south…

Long story short- I spent the next 30+ hours traveling on 6 different buses between 7 different cities, including an unplanned overnight stay in the city of Trujillo, Peru. Yeah- an epic Moving Day if there ever was one… Nevertheless, as soon as my bus cleared the high mountain pass and started its descent toward Huaraz in the valley below, I knew I had made the right decision. The snow-covered peaks of the Cordillera Blanca spread out before us, stretching from one horizon to the next. Glaciers poured down the sides of the mountains, glinting in the bright midday sun. Billowing clouds and spotted sunshine created a beautiful scene as the bus wound its way down the mountains. ‘Now THIS is what I came to South America for…’ I thought, with a smile on my face, anxious to stretch my legs in the city below.

 

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Huaraz is awesome- everything you would expect of a mountain town, with a Peruvian twist, of course. Trekking agencies line the streets, with mountaineering and hiking gear shops appearing on every corner. There is no lack for dining variety, with Peruvian, Asian, Italian, Chinese, and other types of restaurants luring in the hungry with their daily specials and delicious smells. Cafes, bookshops, souvenir and craft stores provide ample shopping opportunities, while local indigenous women sell street food and hand-woven sweaters, scarves, hats, and gloves on the streets around the central plaza. I happened upon a little local polleria (chicken broaster), where I got ½ of a roasted chicken , a MOUNTAIN of fries, and a HUGE salad for 12 soles (less than $5US). Yeah, I was going to like Huaraz…

I had read that Huaraz was one of the mountain biking capitals of South America, and thus spent my first day acclimatizing to the altitude in Huaraz (3.052m/10,013ft.) and talking to several different companies about possible day trips for the following day. It was the ‘shoulder season’ in Huaraz- coming down from the high and into the low season- so there weren’t a lot of people around, which meant that bike trips were hard to come by. Luckily, I found a company that would run a guided trip for one person, so I booked with them, had a quick bite to eat, and headed to bed , excited for my downhill trip through the Andes the following day.

 

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The mountain bike trip was AMAZING- after an hour’s ride up the mountain in the company’s van, we set out on a leisurely ride through some fields and villages in the foothills of some towering peaks. There were two French girls along for the beginning part of the ride, and we all took it easy in the thin mountain air. The scenery was SPECTACULAR- the Cordillera Blanca is the highest mountain range in the world outside of the Himalayas, and the skyscraping peaks that surrounded us left no doubt of that. We meandered along rocky trails and ruddy mountain roads for an hour or so, stopping here and there for water breaks and photo ops, content to just breathe the mountain air and enjoy the view. Eventually, we came to stopping point, and that was where the group split up. Jesus (my guide- aptly named, as I was soon to realize…) turned off onto a narrow, winding path down into the fields below, and before I knew it, we were SCREAMING downhill- over burms and around boulders, dirt and dust flying, breaks squealing as the speed mounted… It went from a la-dee-da pleasure cruise to ‘IT’S ON’ in a flash- and I.was.LOVING.it…

The ride continued like this for the rest of the day, as Jesus and I wound our way down the mountain and back to Huaraz. It was pretty intense- probably some of the most technical mountain biking I have done in my life- and I was glad to have a bike with full suspension. That made all the difference when taking on the boulders, steps, and steeper sections of the trails. We wound our way through some villages as we got closer to the end of the trail, with children shouting ‘HOLA!’ and waving as we sped past them… Kids- they’re the same all over the world.

 

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Finally, we came to the bottom of the trail, and found ourselves back in Huaraz. We wound our way through the upper city streets and down to the bike shop, where I hopped off my trusty steed, legs a bit wobbly, hands a bit sore from the incessant pounding of the rocks. I was tired, for sure, but it had been a great day on the trails. I thanked Jesus, and headed to the hostel for a quick shower. I spent the rest of the day hanging out in a café in town, checking email and having an amazing omelet for lunch. I had a big hike on tap for the next day, so again, it was a low-key night: quick dinner at local Chifa restaurant (Chinese), a quick stop at the market for some water and snacks for the next day, and then back to the hostel. I was exhausted, and needed some sleep before the long hike to Laguna 69.

 

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Laguna 69 has the reputation of being one of the most spectacular single-day hikes in the world, and after having completed the trek, I would have to say it has rightfully earned that lofty recognition. It is STUNNING- almost surreal, in many ways. Deep, lush, winding valleys; trickling streams tumbling off high ridges into magnificent waterfalls; the towering snow-capped peaks of the Andes standing watch over it all… It was amazing. The terrain was continually changing as we gained altitude towards the high mountain lake, which added to the experience of the hike itself. Despite the altitude, the hike was not overly difficult- yes, there were some climbing sections, but by taking things slow and steady, I was able to avoid any effects of altitude sickness. I was stopping to take photos pretty regularly- that helped as well…

 

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Eventually, we mounted the final set of switchbacks, and the sparkling, impossibly blue mountain lake of Laguna 69 came into view. Again- SPECTACULAR. Crystal-clear, all the way to the bottom, with countless waterfalls trickling down from the glaciers just above; towering peaks surrounding the lake, their snow-capped peaks glowing in the sunlight- a remarkable setting, to say the very least. Of course, words, pictures, even HD videos will never do it justice- it is a place you will have to visit for yourself… We scattered around the rocky shores of the lake, and settled in to enjoy a couple of hours at what has to be one of the most spectacular places in South America. Lunch, tea, photos- one brave soul even went for a swim in the glacier-fed lagoon. A QUICK swim. As is always the case, the time went by way too quickly, and before we knew it, we had to start the hike back down the mountain.

 

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The hike down was spectacular as well- the clouds had cleared out, and the valley spread out before us as we descended the winding trail. We took our time on the way down, enjoying the scenery and stopping here and there for a quick breath. Eventually, we made it down to the side of a mountain stream just before the trailhead, so we sat down and relaxed in the mountain sun. It was a clear afternoon, and the sun felt great after a long day on the trail. We finished off the remnants of our lunches, and had a quick snooze before heading up the final part of the trail to meet the bus back to Huaraz. Again, words and pictures can’t do it justice, but it was a GREAT day on the trails of the Cordillera Blanca.

 

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Of course. After such a day, we were all BEAT. We agreed to meet in the central plaza to go for dinner, but none of us had much to say over our meals. I had a 10am bus to Lima the next morning, so made my way back to the hostel, packed my bags, and hit the hay, asleep in seconds. My time was short, but it was a great few days in Huaraz, and well worth the epic journey to get there. It is definitely a place I hope to return someday.

 

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For more information on traveling through Perú, click here.

For more on The Backpack Professor’s travels through Perú, click here.

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Ecuador- where to begin? It’s crazy, really. I was only there for a week- and it was a whirlwind tour for those 7 days- but somehow, I just fell in love with the place. The natural beauty, the friendly people, the rolling hills and the towering volcanoes- an outdoor adventurer’s dream, for sure. Maybe that’s why I liked it so much. And to think- I only had time to hit 3 or 4 of the countless highlights along the way. Alas, I know my time in South America is brief, and I have to make the most of every second… That’s what I tried to do in Ecuador.

I arrived in Otavalo- a small town in the northern part of the country- after a day-long mission of a trip from Popayan in southern Colombia. 5am alarm, 6 hour bus to the border, minibus ride to the exit checkpoint, walk across the border, entrance formalities in Ecuador, taxi to the bus terminal in the next town, and another 5 hour bus ride to Otavalo. Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE Moving Day? Ugh… Anyway, I arrived in Otavalo after dark, in the rain, and was glad to have a taxi waiting to take me to my hostel- for $1. (Quick sidenote: I quickly realized that one of the bonuses of traveling in Ecuador is that they use US Dollars as their national currency- no confusing exchange rates, no mind games with bargaining prices… Muy facil!) I got checked into my hostel, ventured out for a bite to eat, and then headed to bed- I knew I had a full day on tap, and needed some rest after the long journey from Colombia.

The next day, I grabbed a quick breakfast at the hostel (Included with the price of my room), and then made a plan for the day. There was a local bird sanctuary that focused on rescuing birds of prey found abandoned or injured in the wild, and in addition to their resident Andean Condors (the world‘s largest land bird, with a wingspan up to 11 feet), they had daily flight demonstrations which were supposed to be pretty incredible. There was also a local hike that circled around a dormant volcano crater in a small village outside of Otavalo. I had met a German couple at the hostel that said it was spectacular, and perfect for a half-day hike of 4-5 hours. Game. On.

I hired a taxi, and headed up the rocky, ruddy, pot-holed, road to the Parque Condors, bought my entrance ticket, and began my tour around the grounds. I was immediately taken aback by the scenery- Ecuador is GORGEOUS, with rolling green hills, towering rocky mountains, and silky white clouds drifting across a impeccably blue sky. Yeah, there were several interesting birds to see, but the view from that hillside was AMAZING. Now THAT was what I came to South America for… I took a few (SEVERAL) pictures, even broke the video camera out to document the moment, and then had to hustle up to get to the flight demonstration area in time for the show to begin.

The flight demonstration was pretty cool, despite it being orated totally in Spanish. My Spanish is coming along, slowly but surely- I was able pick out a few words here and there, and make some sense of what the guide was saying. I think… Anyway, he brought several different species of birds out to display, even let some of the spectators hold one of the smaller ones, and then had a few that he was going to release into the open air to demonstrate their soaring abilities, etc. The trouble was, the first one he released decided it wanted to have an extended flight that day, and simply soared on the breeze for the next 30 minutes. He brought more birds out in the meantime, and gave us an opportunity to get a few photos of the massive condors. Eventually, the wayward eagle had had its fun, and came ZOOMING back onto the guides arm- very impressive, and it was only by sheer luck that I had my camera ready when she came swooping in. It was intense- it sounded like a small jet coming in for a landing… Very cool. We tried to get him to let us hold the bigger bird, but he laughed and shook his head. Hey, it can’t hurt to ask, right?

After the flight demonstration, I hopped back in my taxi and headed straight for the trailhead of the Laguna Cuicocha- the dormant volcano that had since become a lake and a popular hiking destination for locals and tourists alike. The trail was supposed to take between 4 and 5 hours, and followed along the very EDGE of the crater wall as it circled the lake below. I asked the park ranger a few questions about security, time, and weather, and with a shake of his head and a ‘Tranquillo, amigo- todo esta seguro’, I was off.

 

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The hike was incredible. Again, the magnificent scenery of Ecuador spread out for miles and miles around the crater, with the hills and mountains disappearing into the clouds in the distance. I had a spring in my step as I set out, anxious to take on the trail, but that was quickly quelled as the thin air of Otavalo reminded me of the 2550m elevation. Whew! Maybe I wasn’t going t be breaking any time records for the circuit… Oh well, better to slow down and enjoy the scenery anyway, right? And what scenery it was- the crater itself was MASSIVE, with sheer cliffs dropping hundreds of meters into the waters below. Signs cautioning against getting too close to the edge were posted everywhere along the trail, hinting that perhaps someone may have gotten a bit too close in the past. The trail was in great condition- very well kept, marked clearly at every turn, and meandered along the edge of the crater. I had to stop several times for photos- and to catch my breath- but after I reached the highest point, it was mostly all downhill from there. There were some ominous clouds rolling in, and I could hear thunder in the distance, so I had to hoof it towards the end of the circuit, but it turned out to be a non-issue- the clouds got stuck in a neighboring valley, and the sky cleared up over the crater. I made it back to the lodge just as a couple of local workers were leaving, and they game me a lift back into the village, where I caught a bus back to Otavalo. Yes, I was exhausted, but it had been a great day. I had a bite to eat, and collapsed into my bed with a smile on my face. Welcome to Ecuador!

 

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The next morning, I was scheduled to be on a bus headed south around noon, but wanted to check out the local craft market first. Otavalo is famous for having the largest craft market in South America- on Saturdays, traditionally dressed indigenous Ecuadorians descend on the town in droves, selling anything and EVERYTHING imaginable to the locals and tourists poring through the stalls of the market. Supposedly, it is quite a scene… I was there on a Tuesday, and was blown away by the size of the market and the diversity of what was on offer- hand-made scarves, jackets, shirts, dolls, and hats; printed paintings, artistically woven handbags, hammocks, chairs, and purses; fabrics and textiles of every texture and color; food the like of which I had never seen, smelled, or tasted… It was amazing. I could only imagine what it would’ve been like on a Saturday. Maybe next time… I perused the market for a while, making sure not to feign too much interest in order to avoid being heckled by the vendors, and then had to head to the bus station.

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It was a 6 hour bus ride to Baños, the next stop on my trip through Ecuador. I had decided to bypass Quito in the interest of doing more outdoor activities- I had seen several cities in Colombia, and was keen to stay out of the urban areas and instead continue to take advantage of Ecuador’s natural beauty. I had read great things about Baños, and knew that would be a great spot to continue the adventure.

Of course, I rolled into town in a pouring rainstorm, but somehow found myself smiling, able to embrace the Backpacker‘s ‘It’s all a part of the experience’ mantra. I pulled out my backpack’s rain cover, took one last look at the map before stuffing it into my pocket, and headed of into town, tramping my way around puddles and dodging downspouts all the way to my hostel. I checked in, changed into some dry clothes, and was determined to find something to eat. Luckily, it had stopped raining, and the town seemed to be coming alive. I wandered around a bit until I passed this hole-in-the-wall taco stand, and didn’t make it 5 steps before the smell lured me in. I was HUNGRY. $2.50 for two massive tacos, a heaping serving of rice and beans, and a small salad? Ummm, yes please! While I was waiting for my food to be served, another group wandered by, and a one of the girls got sucked in by the smell as well. As it was a TINY place (2 tables), we started chatting, and before I knew it, I was having a beer at the pub next door, talking with a few Australians, a German couple, a Danish girl, a Canadian and her Kiwi boyfriend. That’s how it goes when your backpacking- somehow, things just seem to fall into place. One moment, you’re sitting by yourself in a foreign country, waiting for a cheap taco and a pile rice, and the next you’re surrounded by a group of like-minded friends, interested in who you are and what you‘re doing there, inviting you to join them for whatever the night might have in store. It’s pretty sweet…

The night in Baños was a good time- we wandered around, hit a couple of bars, and found this great place with a massive firepit going, which was perfect on a cool, damp night. We all agreed to meet up the next morning to plan some activities for the day, and I made my way back to my hostel for a good night’s sleep.

 

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The next day, we decided to hire a 4-wheel-drive jeep to go explore all of the local waterfalls around Baños. Somehow, I got nominated to be the driver, and found myself behind the wheel of this crazy Ecuadorian Jeep, with 3 people’s lives in my hands on the winding roads through the mountains around Baños. Good times! Did I mention it was raining, the roads were WET, and that the jeep had a quarter-turn delay in steering response? No? Oh, well, add that into the mix… Regardless of all of that, we had an amazing day, and it was a great adventure… We saw several waterfalls, culminating in the Pailon del Diablo- the Devil’s Cauldron- a MASSIVE cascade pummeling through a narrow gap in the rocks just outside of town. It was INTENSE- so much water smashing through this tiny area, shooting mist and spray high above the waterfall itself. It was pretty awesome, but there was so much water, you couldn’t get near it with a camera- we were SOAKED within seconds. We were able to cross a small bridge over the ravine and get some photos from the other side, but still, it was nothing compared to being next to the waterfall. There was also a small crawl space we shimmied up that allowed us to stand directly behind the gushing water. It was incredible, and a bit scary, to be honest- there was just so much water. We quickly climbed back down, and then headed back up the trail to try to get warm. We were soaking wet and FREEZING.

We had to hurry to get the jeep back to town, and then I headed directly for the fireplace in my hostel, trying in vain to get my shoes and clothes to dry in the damp air. Still, the fire was warm, and it was the perfect way to warm up after the long, damp day.

I met up with the rest of the crew for dinner, and then we hit up a shisha bar and a crazy local dance club- it was a great end to a great day in Baños, that is for sure.

Alas, my time in Ecuador was coming to a close- the Andes were waiting, and it was time to head to Peru! The next day, I hopped on a bus headed south, and started the long journey towards the Peruvian border… But, the story of THAT epic journey will have to wait until next time.

 

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For more information on traveling through Ecuador, click here.

For more on The Backpack Professor’s travels through Ecuador, click here.

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After I left Cartagena, I decided it was time for some cooler weather, and hopped a plane to Medellin- aka The Drug and Murder Capital of the World, circa 1990. Lucky for me, times have changed in Medellin, and today it is more well known for its proud resident paisas, its magnificent parks, its raucous nightlife, and its temperate climate. After Cartagena, any place called ‘The City of Eternal Spring’ sounded just about right…

I landed in Medellin, marveling at the rolling hills and deep valleys during the approach into the airport, and excitedly hopped on the bus into the city. It had been an early morning- 4am taxi, 2 hour mini-bus ride to the airport, 8am flight from Barranquilla to Medellin- but the cool breeze and crisp morning air were a welcome change from the heat of the coast, and I was anxious to get into the city, drop my bags, and start exploring. The change of scenery had me invigorated, and once again, I had a new city at my fingertips.

 

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Medellin was awesome- a great city with an amazing combination of urban ruggedness, artistic chic, and a unique attitude bent on leaving the dark days of the drug wars behind. The city is speckled with pristine parks and numerous green spaces, contrasting against the modern building and remaining colonial architecture. I spent my few days in Medellin exploring a few of the local parks, taking in the Botanical Gardens, riding the impeccable Metro (with the ski-lift-like Cable Car included), and having a night out in the infamous Zona Rosa. Needless to say, it was a quick three days- way too quick, in fact- and before I knew it, it was time to head to the next stop of my tour through South America- Bogota, the capital city of Colombia.

 

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Bogota has a bit of an edge to it- as any city that boasts a local graffiti tour as one of its highlights would, I suppose. That was one of the first things that I noticed as I headed into the city- there was graffiti EVERYWHERE. Monuments, buildings, statues, construction barriers, buses, taxis- it definitely created a sense of urban ruggedness as my taxi wound its way through the city streets to my hostel. I stayed in an older part of the city- an area called La Candelaria- packed with narrow alleys, close cafes, and shops and restaurants right on top of each other. Want traditional Colombian food? No problem. Fancy a pizza with cheese in the crust? You got it. Craving a humongous kebab or a Mongolian stir-fry? You can find one on just about every corner in La Candelaria. Needless to say, as my taxi pulled up to my hostel, I was ready to explore…

I checked into my hostel- a sprawling complex of rooms, courtyards, open-air gardens, and sitting areas- and happened to bump into a group of Irish travelers who were setting out on a guided bicycle tour of the city. Hmmm…? A group of Irishmen, on bicycles, in Bogota, Colombia. Sounded like a recipe for OF COURSE I’ll go along! The Irish- they’re always such great craic! I dropped my bags, grabbed my camera, and off we went.

 

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Bogota was incredible- I have to admit, I was a bit suspicious at first, with all the graffiti everywhere, but I suppose it has just become a part of the culture and status quo in Bogota. Beneath this urban front is a magnificent city full of amazing sights, sounds, and people. I spent my few days exploring the city, visiting the impressive Museo de Or (Gold Museum), venturing up the Cerro de Monserrate, and learning a bit of salsa along the way- let’s just say that Colombian girls have a way of making you want to dance, and leave it at that… It was a great three days, but again, they went by much too quickly, and before I knew it, it was time to move on.

An overnight bus and a quick stop in the southern town of Popayan, and then I would be on my way to Ecuador… Let the adventures continue! VAMOS!

 

For more information on traveling through Colombia, click here.

For more on The Backpack Professor’s travels through Colombia, click here.

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SO- I’ve been battling ‘Technical Difficulties’ with my computer for the past week and a half, and that is what has kept me from posting anything about my adventures in Colombia… Today, the computer has decided to cooperate, and thus, I’m trying to take advantage of the window of opportunity to get as caught up as I can…

Cartagena was AMAZING- once I acclimated to the heat and humidity, and was okay with sweating as soon as I walked out the door, it was all good. There is SO much to see and do in the city, well beyond the history and shopping within the city walls- it‘s no wonder it is one of the major tourist ports in all the Caribbean.

 

 

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I spent my few days in Cartagena wandering around the Old City, marveling at the ancient walls and the winding narrow alleys. In Cartagena, one is never short of photo opportunities, with every corner bringing something interesting to see. Flowered balconies, crumbling churches, hidden city squares full of fountains and statues- it really is an incredible place just to walk around in.

To get my bearings, I ventured out on the Big Red Bus- the stereotypical tourist bus that can be found in any and every tourist destination in the world. I’ve been on several in the past, and have found that while they can be a bit cliché, they are a great way to familiarize oneself with a new city, and they also require very little effort. Sit, listen, snap a photo here and there… A great way to actually do some sight seeing, even while still battling the lingering effects of jetlag.

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The open-air, double-decker bus in Cartagena was exactly what I hoped it to be- an informative tour of the Old City and some of the more modern surrounds- parts of the city I probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise. I explored the modern area of Bocagrande, with its high-rise hotels and fancy shopping district. The bus passed through the suburbs of Mangos and Getsemaní- two other corners of the city I surely would’ve missed. Along with the ticket came a walking tour through the Old City, complete with a local guide pointing out landmarks and famous churches seemingly on every corner.

On my final day in Cartagena, I explored the massive Castillo de San Filipe de Barajas- the enormous fort built to protect the city from pirates and invaders during Cartagena’s rich colonial times. It is INCREDIBLE- a HUGE fortress, with battlements and firing lines set out to make it virtually impenetrable. The audio guide brought the castle to life, allowing me to envision the English and French troops advancing amidst the roar of cannons and the spitting of rifle fire, while the Spanish soldiers defiantly defended the city from behind the castle walls. The fort is in remarkable shape, with countless passages and tunnels descending into its bowels- an intricate network designed for defense and reinforcement. Very impressive, and an afternoon well spent.

After 3 incredible days of exploring the wonder that is Cartagena, I decided it was time to head for cooler climes. So, I boarded a plane and set off for Medellín- a city that was once the most famous city in all of Colombia- if not South America- for all the wrong reasons…

 

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For more information on traveling through Colombia, click here.

For more on The Backpack Professor’s travels through Colombia, click here.

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And the Adventure begins…

September 11, 2012 — 4 Comments

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Well, it’s official- I’ve made it to South America! Woop-woop! I’m currently sitting here in the lobby of my hostel in Cartagena, Colombia, desperately trying to do two simple things- keep cool, and stay awake. Turns out it’s not so simple, on either count… I’m trying to keep cool because it is HOT down here- hot and HUMID- and I’m trying to stay awake because I just completed a seemingly simple 12-hour trip-turned-26-hour ‘Moving Day’ marathon. Ugh- what a nightmare…5 hours of delays, only to have the first leg of my trip cancelled, re-routed through a city in the opposite direction I should’ve been traveling, more lay-overs and sitting around in airports, and an ‘overnight’ flight that was actually less than 5 hours long- didn‘t get any sleep on that one… Needless to say, I’m EXHAUSTED. But, I’m here, and in the end, that’s what matters.

 

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Quick first impressions of Cartagena- see above… Ha! Actually, I haven’t made it very far out of the hostel yet… It took me awhile to cool down and re-hydrate from the previous day’s adventures in traveling, and I’ve just been sitting in a window at the front of the open-air lobby of the hostel, watching people come and go, while the world outside drifts by. I did chase down a fruit vendor when he passed by and caught my eye with his loaded cart- something fresh sounded really good after all the airport and airplane ‘food’ I’ve had over the past 24 hours… Other than that, I’ve seen just a bit of the Old Quarter from the taxi on the drive over from the airport, and it seems Cartagena delivers as advertised- narrow alleys winding here and there, cobblestone streets between colorfully painted colonial buildings, and friendly people milling about everywhere. I plan on heading out to explore later in the afternoon, once things cool off a bit… Maybe find some street food for dinner- now THAT sounds like a delicious adventure…

 

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For more information on traveling through Colombia, click here.

For more on The Backpack Professor’s travels in Colombia, click here.

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Paradise Found

August 12, 2012 — Leave a comment

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The Perhentian Islands, about an hour’s ferry ride off the north-east coast of Malaysia, were hands-down one of our favorite places along our trip through SE Asia. We had just come from Thailand: a bucket-cocktail party filled week on Koh Pha-Ngnan- culminating with the infamous Full Moon Party- followed by another 5 crazy days spent on Koh Tao, where Cory and Federico completed their Basic Open Water diver’s certification. After that run, let’s just say our bodies needed a break from the insanity that is ‘The Backpacker’s Life’ on the Islands of Thailand. The Perhentians proved to be the perfect location for a bit of respite.

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Turquoise Bay on Perhentian Kecil

 

We knew our livers were going to get a break, as alcohol in Malaysia (A Muslim country) is either very hard to find, or ridiculously expensive. Usually both. We had been advised to buy whatever booze we wanted for the islands prior to boarding the transfer ferry, but by that point, the mere mention of more alcohol was enough to induce an instantaneous psychologically created hang-over (Muscle memory and all… Your brain is a muscle, right??). Needless to say, we passed on the bottle shop, and looked forward to a few days of detox.

We purchased our ferry tickets, and found out we had a while to wait before the boat headed out. We wandered over to a little cafe, hoping to get a bit to eat before the trip.  An hour later, and STILL waiting on our chicken sandwiches, that idea was out the window, and we had to head back to the dock. Unbelievable- there was hardly anyone in the cafe! Maybe they had to go and catch the chickens (Not as far-fetched as it might sound when in a small town in SE Asia…). Nevertheless, we were excited to board the ferry and head out to the islands.

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Welcome to PARADISE…

 

We were staying on Perhentian Kecil- the smaller of the two islands- as we had heard it was geared a bit more towards backpackers as opposed to high-end resorts. We hadn’t booked accommodation on the island, and our first afternoon was spent exploring the options along the beach. Guesthouses of all sizes, colors, and prices stood shoulder to shoulder along the edge of the sand, all with open-air bars/restaurants/reception areas inviting us to come in and drop our bags. We toured a few, settled on one, and then it was time to hit the beach.

The best thing, or at least one of the best things (There are many ‘best things’ when talking about Perhentian Kecil) about the island was its size- it is pretty small, and the only ‘developed’ part is the main beach along Turtle Bay. At the time we were there, it was still a bit ‘off the map’, so to speak, and wasn’t overrun with backpackers looking for yet another massive beach rave. It had a much more laid-back vibe than the Thai islands we had just come from- no pounding techno music on the beach all night long, no crazy parties packed with intoxicated tourists, no locals hawking bucket cocktails at 10am… Tossing the frisbee around, lolling in a hammock, reading a book in the shade, or taking a snooze in the sand made up our days, while quiet sea-side bbqs, twilight volleyball games with the locals, and small bonfires on the beach made up our nights. It was nice to be able to just chill out. On one night, we wandered into what turned out to be a great restaurant that doubled as a movie theater, and found ourselves returning night after night for the ‘Dinner and a Movie’ special.

 

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Who loves Perhentian Kecil? These guys.

 

Fede and I took our Advanced Open Water course at this awesome little dive shop right there on the beach (Turtle Bay Divers), and found it to be some of the best diving we had experienced in all of SE Asia. Cory went on hikes while we were diving, exploring the hidden corners of the island, photographing the incredibly untouched beauty of the landscape. Crystal clear waters, sun-bleached white sand, a cool breeze off the sea, friendly locals and a feeling that today- this day- was hands-down the best day of the trip. That was the feeling of being on Perhentian Kecil.

 

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Just another day at the office…

 

We ended up extending our stay by one day, then two, then three… We looked at the calendar and tried to figure out how to adjust our itinerary to allow us to stay longer. Later in the trip, when faced with monsoon rains on the West Coast of Thailand, we contemplated back-tracking across the Malaysian peninsula, all the way back to the Perhentians- thats how much we loved it there. The day we finally left, we stood there, the three of us, on the transfer skiff, about to head out and board the ferry back to the mainland. All the places we had passed through before- all throughout Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia- they all seemed like a ‘stop along the way’- a place to see what was to be seen, do what was to be done, and move on. Perhentian Kecil was different. We didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to move on to the next stop. ‘Man, I love this place…’ Fede said, standing on the transfer boat, squinting through the sunlight back at the glimmering beach. We all loomed at the rail, looking back at our guesthouse, the hammocks swaying in the morning breeze; back at the dive shop, instructors and students climbing into to the dive boats, ready to get the day’s courses underway; back at Paradise on Earth, the golden sand contrasting sharply against the impossibly blue waters… ‘Me too,’ I replied. ‘Me too.’

 

 

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Perhentian Kecil

 

 

If you’d like to learn more about how to travel through Malaysia, click here.

For more on The Backpack Professor’s adventures in Malaysia, click here.

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Federico and I decided to take our Advanced Open Water course while staying on Perhentian Kecil- a small island off the east coast of Malaysia. For you non-divers out there, the advantage to having your Advanced Open Water certification is that you can go a bit deeper on your dives (30 meters as opposed to 18), you can enter shipwrecks, you can do night dives, and besides, the dives required to complete the course make you a more experienced diver in general. Fede had completed his basic Open Water course in Koh Tao, Thailand, just prior to arriving in Malaysia, and we were both excited to take it to the next level.

Upon our arrival on the island, we walked down the beach, stopping in various dive shops along the way, and ended up in at a place called Turtle Bay Divers. It was full of laid-back dive instructors, all happy to chat with us about anything and everything. We hit it off with this English guy named Will right away, learning that he was living the hard life- instructing dive courses in Malaysia during the peak tourist season, and mixing some diving of his own with a little bit of surfing in Indonesia during the low season. Tough life, right? He was a funny guy, and went on about how great the diving around the Perhentians was. We registered for the 5-dive course, and promised to show up on time and in diving condition (Read: not hung-over) the next morning.

To complete the Advanced Open Water course, one has to pass on 5 different types of challenging dives. Theres something like 8 or 9 dives to choose from, depending on what your interests are, but of those, 2 are required- the Deep Dive (Up to 30 meters), and the Navigational Dive (So that you can get back to the boat should you decide to dive on your own. A good skill to have, for sure…). The other dives we selected were the Peak Performance Buoyancy dive (Perfect your neutral buoyancy, a key to scuba diving), the Drift Dive (Scuba diving in an area with a strong current), and the Wreck Dive (Safely and responsibly penetrating shipwrecks). The plan was to complete these 5 dives over the next three days, allowing us to complete the course before we left the island.

 

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Underwater and breathing- so far, so good…

First up was the Peak Performance Buoyancy dive, a dive we completed just off the beach, right there in Turtle Bay. Our instructor was an English woman named Olivia- ‘Olli’ for short- and she was dead-set on getting us to the point where we could ‘float’ underwater. We had to learn all these skills to adjust our buoyancy while underwater, and then use these skill to do flips, swim through hoops, and maintain our depth for extended periods of time. It wasn’t the most ‘scenic’ dive as far as fish, coral, and other sea life was concerned, though we did have a few curious fish swim by- surely wondering what the heck we were doing, swimming through hula-hoops and doing back flips. Nevertheless, the dive did help us hone our buoyancy, which would help us on dives in the future, and it was fun doing all the challenges. AOW Dive #1, CHECK…

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Achieving SCUBA Enlightenment…

 

The second dive was the Deep Dive, done at a dive sight called ‘The Pinnacle’. Will was going to be our instructor for the rest of the course, which suited us fine. His easygoing manner and sense of humor about it all took the edge off the fact that we were in a class of sorts, trying to earn a passing grade. The Deep Dive’s primary purpose is to expose divers to the experience of being deeper underwater, where the body may react a bit differently than at shallower levels. The maximum depth for any recreational dive is 30 meters, a depth at which an intoxicating sensation known as Nitrogen Narcosis can take hold. Getting ‘narced’ is a result of having too much compressed nitrogen in the blood stream, and can have dangerous side effects that don’t seem dangerous at the time. An sense of calm and/or elation can come over a diver, causing them to forget about or ignore checking their depth gauges and air supply- not a good thing. Also, due to the compressed nitrogen in the bloodstream, divers can get ‘The Bends’ if they ascend too rapidly to the surface. This is caused by expanding nitrogen bubbles in the blood, and can be debilitatingly painful, with severe cases resulting in death. Hence, its a good idea to know what you’re doing when diving deep. Hence, the required Deep Dive course. There is not a lot to the dive- just a slow descent to the appropriate depth, a few mind games to demonstrate the effects of Nitrogen Narcosis, a bit of sight-seeing around the site, and then a slow ascent, including the ‘Safety Stop’- a 5 minute stop at a depth of 3 meters to allow some of the nitrogen to escape the body before surfacing. That’s it. AOW DIve #2- CHECK…

 

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A reef shark snoozing on the sand…

 

Our third dive was the Navigational Dive, intended to teach divers how to navigate themselves around a dive site using landmarks and/or compasses. Its pretty funny- you start the course on the beach, learning to use the compasses by navigating along lines drawn in the sand by your instructor. I’m sure the beach bums get a kick out of seeing a bunch of guys in scuba gear stumbling around the beach, arms out in front of them, trying to read a compass without falling over each other. Good times! Then it’s into the water, and those challenges are repeated underwater. You’ve got to navigate a 20 meter square, locate your buddy, and various other skills, all while being able to point to the location of the boat at ALL TIMES. Again, a very useful course for those who may do some diving on their own. We did see some cool stuff on this dive, as we were on a site with a pretty large reef system. Schools of fish, a turtle or two, and a HUGE ray in a so-called ‘cleaning station’- a spot where smaller fish can clean parasites off of its skin. We may have been in trouble if Fede had been leading our dive, as he had NO idea where the boat was at the end of the dive. No matter, apparently- AOW Dive #3- CHECK…

 

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A local seahorse, just hangin’ around…

 

The fourth dive we did was the Drift Dive- a dive designed to teach divers how to handle a situation where they are diving in an area with a strong current. There are different entry options for drift dives, designed to get you to the bottom and on the site before you drift over it. This was the most difficult part of the dive, as prior to this, all dives had began with a slow descent, enabling divers to equalize the pressure in their ears and mask regularly without much stress. The ‘Negative Buoyancy Entry’ was very different- instead of entering the water with your BCD (Buoyancy Control Device) inflated like a life jacket, you are supposed to enter with it deflated, and immediately begin swimming down to the depth of the dive site. It is a bit disconcerting the first time you do it, as you feel like you’re not getting enough air due to your lungs compressing as you descend.  Not only that, but you’re also trying to equalize your ears and your mask continually, relieving the building pressure. Theres just a lot going on… At first, Fede was stuck on the surface, flailing away upside-down, unable to submerge. It was pretty funny. Will ascended, added some weight to his belt, and eventually, we made it down. On the bottom, we collected ourselves, and the rest was cake. The advantage to a drift dive is that you don’t really have to swim- you just drift along the dive site, riding the current. Its actually very relaxing, unless you see something if interest- then you have to fight the current to stay in one place long enough to satisfy your curiosity. On our dive, we saw several tiny seahorses and a few fish, but there wasn’t much other than that- just the experience of drift diving. At the end of the drift, Will inflated his Safety Sausage- an inflatable buoy that alerts the dive boat to where you will be surfacing. Slow ascent, safety stop, and we were back on the boat. AOW Dive #4- CHECK…

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Clouds of fish surround the Sugar wreck site

 

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A Lionfish prowls the bow of the Sugar Wreck

 

We had saved the best dive for the final dive of the course- the Wreck Dive. This dive is designed to teach divers to safely and responsibly penetrate submerged wreck sites.  Many times, wrecks can be unstable, have narrow passages filled with obstacles and protrusions that can tangle up gear, and may have dark areas combined with already poor visibility. Our dive site was the Sugar Wreck- a huge cargo vessel that mysteriously sunk in a shallow channel between the islands. We were lucky- we had a beautiful day, so visibility at the sight was superb. Add to this the drop in the current, and we had ideal diving conditions for our wreck dive. Swimming through the enormous cargo holds was amazing, and we were able to pop up in a small air pocket inside that had developed over time due to the number of divers visiting the site (Don’t breathe it- stale air!). The way the reef had seemingly taken over the wreck was amazing- coral, sponges, and other stationary sea life clung to the ship, straining against the force of the current. There were fish EVERYWHERE- some large schools sticking together, solitary lionfish prowling along the bow. It was pretty awesome. Eventually, we had to surface, and were all smiles on the boat back to the dive shop. AOW Dive #5- CHECK…

And that was that- we were ADVANCED Open Water Divers!

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Advanced Open Water certified? CHECK!

 

If you’d like to learn more about how to travel through Malaysia, click here.

For more on the Backpack Professor’s adventures in Malaysia, click here.

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While traveling in Botswana, I took a 3-day/2-night trip out into the Okavango Delta. A literal oasis in the middle of the sprawling Kalahari Desert, the waterways and islands of the Delta are home to some of the most breath-taking and awe-inspiring scenery in all of Africa- both in landscapes as well as wildlife viewing opportunities. Having seen numerous documentaries showcasing the Delta, I knew from the very beginning of planning my trip that this was one part of Africa I was not missing out on, no matter what, so when the time came to sign up for the trip, my name was at the top of the list.

Shortly after we pulled into the dusty town of Maun, we gathered around for a meeting that would outline the next 3 days in the Delta. Our ‘Delta Guide’ gave us the run-down of the trip- a long makoro (Traditional dugout canoe) ride out into the Delta, bush camping for 2 nights, game walks and other makoro cruises during the days, a visit to a swimming hole or two, and the amazing experience of camping out under the stars in the Okavango Delta. Needless to say, by the end of the meeting, we were ready to head out right away. We packed our smaller day-packs and food for the trip, and then tried to find ways to while away the time until our departure the next morning.

We were up early the next morning to board the trucks for the transfer from the campsite to the Delta’s edge. It was a cool morning, and the trucks were open-air, so we had long-sleeves and wind-breakers on to keep us warm until the sun rose a bit higher. It was an hour’s drive through rural farmland from Maun out to the Delta put-in, and we noticed the terrain continually getting greener and greener the closer we got to our destination. Finally, we pulled to a stop on the side of what seemed to be a large lagoon.

 

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We all hopped off the truck and unloaded our gear while trying to stay out of the way of the many locals that were bustling around getting things prepared for the trip- I was amazed at how many people were involved. There were several makoros lined up along the water’s edge, and all of the locals were busy loading them with water and food, firewood and cooking equipment. We were told where to place our belongings, and shortly those were loaded into the makoros as well. We were introduced to the local guides that would be navigating us through the innumerable waterways of the delta and out to our camp sites. Finally, we gingerly settled into our makoros- 2 per boat, plus a guide- bags, sun cream, snack sacks, and water positioned around us as comfortably as possible. We had been told that it was going to be about a 3 hour trip out into the delta, and that we weren’t going to be able to move around very much in the narrow and seemingly all-too-unstable canoes. Sun hat on and SPF 50 applied, we pushed off, and our adventure was underway.

The Okavango Delta is an amazing place- cool clear waters flowing through tall grasses, islands spotted with palm and acacia trees, and abundant wildlife throughout. It is the world’s largest inland delta, the result of the seasonal flooding of the Okavango River system emptying itself into the basin of the Kalahari Desert. Because of the surrounding desert, the delta is an oasis for local plant and animal life, and is one of the most unique ecosystems in the world. Prides of lions patrol the islands, in search of herds of zebra, wildebeest, and water buffalo. Giraffe and elephants keep watch for predators like leopards and cheetahs, while shy rhinos and the ever-elusive wild dogs keep a low profile. Nile crocodiles and hippopotamus make their homes in the waterways, while fish eagles and cranes soar overhead in search of food. The water supply supports an incredible amount of life, and the residents of the delta have it pretty easy compared to their relatives in other, drier parts of the African wilderness.

 

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Our trip into the Delta was great- once we got the delicate balance of riding in the unstable makoro down. As our guide poled us along, I was surprised to see that most of the delta is no more than shoulder deep- the water was so clear, we could see the bottom of the narrow canals we were passing through, and our guide had no problem using the long pole to keep up slowly moving along. It started to get hot, and with no shade to be had, I felt like any exposed skin was getting roasted, regardless of how much sun cream I lathered on them. I noticed the locals simply dipping their cups into the water as we glided along, pouring some waster on their head and then drinking the rest, straight from the delta. Apparently, the water was safe to drink- for the locals, at least- but I decided it was still a good idea to drink bottled water. Better safe than sorry.

We continued along in this way for a long time- slowly gliding along through narrow pathways in a seemingly unending prairie of marsh grass. The gentle splash of our guide’s pole in the water, the rhythmic speeding up and slowing down of the makoro, the gentle breeze blowing across the open boat- I dozed off for awhile, despite my back and legs slowly growing numb from being in the same position for so long. Finally, our guide settled the nose of our makoro into the mud at the side of a small island, and we had arrived at our campsite. I slowly stood up, gingerly straightening out and stepping out of the front of the canoe and onto dry land. After a quick stretch, we unloaded all the gear- tents, sleeping bags and mats, pots and pans, containers full of food and utensils, several bottles of water, firewood, and last but not least- a shovel to dig our ‘bush toilet’- all that packed into in our three little makoros. It was amazing.

 

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First, we set to the task of pitching our tents and organizing our campsite. We all noticed  the piles of dried elephant droppings all around the place, and the guides were quick to tell us that it wasn’t uncommon for elephants to visit campsites at night in search of food that had been left out. We all made a mental note to make sure EVERYTHING was put away in the kitchen tent before we went to bed at night. I mean, I love elephants and everything, but I don’t really want them stomping around my tent in the middle of the night- it had happened before, and I found it to be just a bit disconcerting…  After we got our tents set up, the fire pit dug, and the ‘toilet’ sorted, it was time to set out on our first game walk in the delta.

 

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Now, I had been on game walks before, and called myself crazy afterwards for putting myself in such a precarious position. A ‘game walk’ is exactly what it sounds like- a walk through the wild in search of game. Who knows what you may encounter? In Nepal, it had been stealthy tigers and grazing rhinos. In the Okavango Delta, there were any number of dangerous animals we could come across- prowling lions, leopards and cheetahs; hyenas and crocodiles lying in wait; herds of edgy water buffalo and overprotective hippos scattered about. Throw in a few thousand elephants and some wary rhinos, and the potential dangers were everywhere. So, knowing all of this was out there waiting, and we wanted to just walk right into it, on foot, with no protection- no vehicle, no guns, nothing at all with which to stop a charging lioness or an upset buffalo.  Smart? Probably not… But, that’s just part of it- all part of the experience, so to speak…

 

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Anyway, our bush walks turned out to be pretty uneventful- we didn’t encounter anything dangerous, and the only wildlife we saw was a herd of zebra, and even then at a pretty good distance away. We did come across several skeletons- giraffe, hippo, buffalo, etc.- but that was the only evidence we saw of any predators possibly having been in the area. Still, it was amazing to be out and walking around the islands of the delta- it was beautiful. Stands of trees rising tall over golden grasses, dusty game trails meandering across the sun-baked fields, rocky outcroppings spotted here and there providing a great vantage over the surrounding area. It was a really cool walk, despite the lack of ‘action’.

 

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The rest of our time in the delta went much the same- we went on a couple more walks, never encountering anything too exciting. We did come across a lone bull elephant on one of our twilight makoro cruises. He turned and studied us, gave a great bellow, and then rumbled away, disappearing into the underbrush. We found a swimming hole the second afternoon, and each had a go at poling the makoros around. It quickly became obvious that one had to have grown up in the delta to be able to navigate it in the traditional boats, and we all had a laugh as we toppled over the side and into the water.  We saw some AMAZING sunsets over the delta, enjoying the peace and tranquility of being in the middle of the Botswana wilderness with nothing around to spoil it. At night, were were serenaded by the trumpeting of elephants and the calls of night hawks while sitting around the fire, roasting marshmallows and gazing up at the stars. Sure, we were ‘roughing it’, but to be honest, it was so peaceful that we hardly noticed that we hadn’t showered in 3 days, or that we had to cover the ‘toilet’ with fresh dirt after each use. Despite the lack of wildlife-related ‘excitement’ on our trip into the delta, when the time came to pack up the tents and load the makoros for the trip back to civilization, I wished we had more time to enjoy it.

 

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If you’d like to learn more about how to travel through Botswana, click here.

For more on the Backpack Professor’s adventures in Botswana, click here.

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After spending three days in the natural wonder that is Botswana’s Okavango Delta, we had the chance to take a scenic flight over the delta for a unique view of the landscape impossible to imagine from ground level. We were all excited about getting a ‘bird’s eye view’ of things to help us get some perspective on how big the area actually is. We headed out to the local airstrip, and after switching planes due to some sort of mechanical failure (Always reassuring…), we were speeding down the runway and climbing skyward, all 7 of us packed into the tiny propeller plane.

 

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Our pilot had introduced himself with a heavy Namibian accent, and had given us a brief run-through on the path he was going to take while flying over the delta. It was only supposed to be a 30 minute flight, so we would still only get to see a small portion of the delta, but he said we would be flying over the island where we had camped the previous 2 nights, and that we should be able to see the loading area where we had originally set out into the delta in the makoro canoes.

 

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Once in the air, we were flying over the dry and dusty farmland that sits around the borders of the delta, irrigation ditches easily made out from our low altitude. Before long, we were over the delta itself, and it became instantly clear as to why we hadn’t had much luck as far as wildlife viewing was concerned- it was HUGE. It spread out before us as far as the eye could see- large and small islands surrounded by a seemingly unending marshland, large lakes and smaller ponds spotted here and there throughout.  It reminded me of what it must be like to look at the earth from space- all that blue water, with a few masses of green, brown, and yellow dispersed throughout. Wide rivers made their way through the delta, with smaller streams and waterways splitting off like little capillaries, spreading the flood waters throughout. We could pick out game trails meandering through the grasslands and the shallow waterways- herds of elephant or buffalo having trampled the ground and grasses as they moved through the delta. It was incredible- an amazing perspective on this lush oasis in the middle of the Kalahari Desert.

 

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As we flew along, our pilot suddenly pointed out the window towards the ground, shouting back into the cabin, trying to be heard over the drone of the engine. “BUFFALO!” he shouted, and we all strained our necks to the windows, trying to pick out what he was pointing at. We couldn’t have been more than 3 or 4 thousand feet off the ground, and looking out the window, were able to make out the black dots set against the green background- a HUGE herd of water buffalo, grazing and resting in a meadow beside a large lake. There must have been hundreds of them… A few seconds later- “ELEPHANT!”, as the pilot banked the plane to circle around a family of 20-30 elephants making their way across one of the innumerable islands. Again, incredible. We slowly realized that all these black spots clustered together on the ground were actually animals, and they were EVERYWHERE. On one hand, it made me wonder at how we DIDN’T come across more wildlife while on our walks in the delta, but also made me realize just how expansive the area was, and, as it always is with wildlife, it was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.

 

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As we continued our flight, we saw many more buffalo and elephants- the easiest to pick out due to their individual size as well as the fact that they tend to travel in herds. We also saw a few giraffe, and some smaller antelope as well. I continued to marvel at the amount of water- unbelievable for being in the middle of a desert… Eventually, we made the turn home and headed back to the airport, cameras full of images taken during the flight. It was an incredible experience, and provided a great perspective on the wonder that is the Okavango Delta.

 

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If you’d like to learn more about how to travel through Botswana, click here.

For more on the Backpack Prof’s travels through Botswana, click here.

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One of THE main attractions of my entire trip through Africa was the opportunity to visit the infamous Mountain Gorillas in the Virunga Mountains of Rwanda. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to come face to face with King of the Apes? Yes, please! We had to register  with the Rwandese government months in advance in order to get special permits issued prior to our arrival in Rwanda, as they are extremely limited- and thus in very high demand. The government controls the number of these permits in order to reduce the amount of people visiting the gorillas in an effort to preserve their habitat. Thus, the permits don’t come cheap- $500 US when I was in Africa, with rumors of the price hiking to $1000US. The money raised through the sales of the permits goes towards the protection and preservation of the mountain gorillas and their habitat- a worthwhile cause- and, again, since it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, I couldn’t pass it up. We completed the paperwork months in advance, our permits were issued, and rain or shine, we were going to visit a family of mountain gorillas when we got to Rwanda.

We arrived in Musanze- the launching point for our trek- late in the afternoon, and got straight to the business of collecting our permits and getting all of our camera batteries charged for the following day. We were told that the weather in the mountains could change in minutes, and had to pack for every possibility- rain or shine, hot or cold- chances were we would see it all during our trek into the mountains. All preparations completed, we set our alarms for EARLY the next morning (4am), and hit the hay with visions of King Kong dancing in out heads.

We knew that EVERYTHING about the trek was based on the gorillas’ daily schedule- they feed at certain times, they play at certain times, they rest at certain times- and this routine was used to determine the best time for people to visit the gorilla families. The difficult part was that the gorillas typically move overnight, making it necessary for spotters to locate them in the dense forest and radio their position down to guides at the park office prior to the groups setting out. As a result, the hike up the mountain to reach the gorillas could range anywhere from 30 minutes to 3-4 hours, depending on where the gorillas had settled for the day. Because of this, we had to be at the park office early enough to ensure that we would be able to reach our designated families at the appropriate time of day.

It was still dark out when we were picked up from our hotel, and we couldn’t see the town and surrounding countryside we were driving through. Most dozed off, heads rolling an bobbing along with the bounce of the truck as it rumbled down the pot-holed roads towards the park. Eventually, we pulled off the bumpy road and into the parking lot, greeted by a welcome sign flanked by a huge gorilla statue. We climbed out of the truck and stretched in the gravely parking lot, and it was then that we caught our first glimpse of the Virunga Mountains- the home of the mountain gorillas. Awesome, startling, rugged, lush, vibrant- all words to describe those incredible volcanoes on first impression. The sun had finally risen, and they were bathed in a yellow light that seemed to amplify the deep green forests that blanketed them. They were so unique- unlike any mountains I had ever seen before- organic in some way. How they rose out of the surrounding hills, soaring above the fields and forests, their almost pulsing green contrasted against the bright blue sky- it was surreal.

 

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We stood there, taking in the amazing scene, knowing that somewhere, up in the dense jungles on the mountainside, the gorillas were waiting for us. We headed over to the park office, refocusing on the reason we had come- we were going up into those mountains, we would trek through the trees and the vines of the jungle, and eventually, we would come face to face with the powerful mountain gorillas. Needless to say, we were wide awake, and the blood was pumping…

After grabbing a cup of tea, we were split up into smaller groups and assigned to a gorilla family. Each group numbered about 8 people, and there were probably 6-8 groups  altogether. Each had a guide and a spotter, and they went over the safety regulations and protocol for visiting the gorilla families. ‘Don’t look the males in the eye’; ‘No grunting or growling noises’; ‘Stay at least 10 meters away from the animals; etc.- all for the safety of the people as well as that of the gorillas. After all this, we were ‘introduced’ to our gorilla family- our’s was the “Kwitonda” family. Each guide had a laminated sheet which showed pictures of the various members of that specific family- dominant males, subordinate males, females, and their offspring. It was a family tree of that gorilla family, listing birthdays, ages, relationships to others in the group, etc.- a helpful tool in letting us learn a bit more about the gorillas we were about to meet. After we had all had a good look at the family tree, it was time to pile into the trucks and head up into the mountains. A quick last check of our gear, and we were off!

The road up into the mountains was AWFUL- bumps and ruts, potholes and boulders, washouts and puddles- we all hung on for dear life in the back of the truck as it bounced and jostled its way through the small farming villages and up into the foothills of the volcano. Our guide had learned the Kwitonda Family’s location from the spotters in the field earlier in the morning, and once we were on the trail, it would be up to the spotters to inform him of any movements the gorillas might make during their morning feeding period. Then, it would be up to our guide to follow their directions through the dense jungle and up to the gorillas’ location. Easy enough, right?

 

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Before long, the road ended- or more accurately, became un-drivable- so we climbed out, shouldered our daypacks, and set out on foot through the fields and forests of the volcano’s foot. The approach to the foot of the volcano was a beautiful hike- neatly manicured fields running off in all directions, a few locals spotted here and there throughout, tending to their crops. The sun was warm, and we quickly began shedding layers as the climb continued uphill. We crossed brooks and cool mountain streams, passed under towering trees and over low hedgerows, always up, always on the climb.  Our guide would stop periodically to give us a chance to catch our breath as well as tell us a bit more about the park and its inhabitants. While passing through the farmland, he explained how the locals and the park work together to manage the preservation of the gorillas and their habitat. Much of the money that is paid by tourists for gorilla trek permits flows down into the local economy, a trade-off with the villagers. They in turn allow the tourists to pass through their farmland and refrain from expanding their farms further up the mountain and into the gorillas’ habitat. This working relationship allows park officials to successfully manage the protection and preservation of the gorillas and their habitat in the mountains.

We eventually came to a stone wall at the edge of the jungle that had been built by the villagers to prevent wild buffalo from getting down into their fields and trampling the crops. There were stones that allowed us to climb and pass over the wall, and then, we were in the jungle. Our guide headed down what he must’ve know to be a trail, though to us it just looked like more dense jungle. He hacked a few branches out of the way with his machete, and we all filed in behind him, climbing single file further up into the dense forest.

It was hot in the trees- the air was still, no breeze at all, and we were all feeling it as we climbed. No wonder they had advised us to bring so much water- I was SWEATING. It was incredible though, trekking through the Rwandan jungle- trees, plants, flowers, vines- the likes of which I had never seen before. It seemed to almost hum with life- the buzzing of bees and flying insects, the chirps and songs of birds hidden in the trees, the deep breathing and rhythmic footfalls of our group joining in the chorus as we climbed higher up the volcano. Every so often, our guide would stop ad get on his radio, communicating with the spotters higher up to make sure we were going the right way, and we’d take advantage of the brief rest by grabbing a drink and wiping the sweat from our faces. We weren’t complaining- we had heard tales of people having to do their gorilla trek in a downpour, mud up to their ankles, the trails flooded as rainwater rushed down the mountainside, climbing and searching for hours, yet never actually seeing any gorillas, and then finding no refunds for their permits waiting back at the office. No- hot and sweaty in the sunshine was fine with us…

 

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After an hour on the trail, we stopped once more, and our guide told us to put all of our backpacks in a pile together. He explained that the gorillas were very close, and that we couldn’t take our bags with us. We gathered all of our cameras, batteries, and any valuables (Money, passports, etc.) into our pockets, got into a strict single-file line, directly behind him. We were to stay as close to one another as possible, no one lagging behind and stringing the group out. Adrenaline pumping, we slowly crept along as our guide led us further into the jungle.

As we moved together, our guide called out to the spotters, and we could hear them calling back, leading us their position. Our guide was moving very deliberately, and was making frequent low, rolling, rumbling nosies deep in his chest. We could hear similar grunts and rumbles coming from the jungle in front of us, but it was clear that those sounds weren’t coming from anything human. We strained our eyes against the sunlight, searching for any hint of black fur that we could find, but all we saw was green, green, green… It was impossible- the noises sounded SO close, like we were almost on top of them- yet still, we couldn’t see anything.

Slowly, slowly, we crept forward through the undergrowth, trying to make as little noise as possible. As we came around a large bush, we found ourselves at the edge of a small clearing, and immediately our guide stopped, holding his hand up to signal us to freeze. He continued making that grunting noise, and never looking away, nodded towards the trees across in the distance across the clearing. We all looked up, and there it was- a small, compact patch of black amongst the green leaves and brown vines of the trees. It was a strange moment- it seemed to take a second for us to realize what it was, even though we all really knew exactly what it was- a juvenile mountain gorilla, perched in the trees, casually munching on some leaves while looking back at us. It was all I could do not to point (‘No pointing’- another rule. Pointing can be viewed as a threat or challenge by adult gorillas, and we didn’t need any of that business…)- there was a gorilla in the trees, less than 10 meters away! We were all busy getting a few shots with our cameras when, before we knew what was happening, a female with her baby on her back came ambling out of the underbrush on all fours, headed directly towards our group. Our guide froze, continued to make his rumbling noise, a bit louder, but still the mother came on. She was no more than an arms-length away when she finally altered her course. We must have startled her somehow, for she made a loud screeching noise and hurriedly hopped away- it was almost like she didn’t realize we were there… Amazing. After she had passed, our guide stepped forward, ever so slowly, and we cautiously followed.

 

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We knew we only had an hour to spend with the gorillas once we had come in contact with them, and immediately, the mental timer started ticking away in the back of our minds. We wanted to make the most of it. Luckily for us, the Kwitonda Family was more than happy to oblige. As we crept forward along the outskirts of the clearing, we realized that we were in the midst of almost the entire family group. A mother and her baby seated on a log, partially hidden by leaves, munching away; a MASSIVE silverback, laid down on his elbows, thoughtfully chewing on a stick, battle scars all down his sides; a group of gorillas lolling in the clearing, enjoying a mid-morning snooze; and finally mighty Kwitonda himself, the dominant male, somehow impossibly bigger and broader than all the rest, seated in a hollow of bamboo, his deep rumbling voice making our hair stand on end as he welcomed us to his home. It was incredible- we were SO close to all of these gorillas, and yet they didn’t seem to mind at all. Of course, they have human visitors pretty regularly, so were accustomed to people being around. Still, that didn’t take anything away from being face to face with giant mountain gorillas- IN THE WILD. It was awesome.

 

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We spent the next hour marveling at these rarest of creatures, awed by their sheer size and evident power, yet amazed at their calm and quiet demeanor. After our brief introduction, Kwitonda had moved off into dense underbrush to feed, and was no longer visible. No matter- we were continually reminded of his near-by presence by the occasional rumble of his awesome voice. Our attention turned to the group of gorillas that were lounging about in the clearing- some were sleeping, some were just lazing about, absent-mindedly chewing on grass, but there was one that was in full-on play mode. It was hilarious- a baby gorilla, no more than a year old, had challenged one of his older brothers to a wrestling match, and though the older one just wanted to sleep, the younger one was being a pest, and would not leave him alone. He kept crawling up on top of his older brother, grabbing at his ears and pulling at his fur until finally, the older brother would grab the little one and toss him away like a rag doll. The baby would roll to a stop, gather himself, and head back towards the group. Then the whole process would repeat itself, with the same conclusion. Once, the tiny baby almost rolled into our feet, and when he realized where he was, gave a little shout and scurried back up into the group, peering back at us over the protective arm of his mother.  After he got his courage back up, he stood up, gave himself a King Kong like chest-thumping, and assailed his brother once again. TOO FUNNY!

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Eventually, the other silverback come over to the group, and put an end to the non-sense. It was time for gorilla grooming, and everyone took up the activity. The delicate process of picking and pruning each other went on for some time, each individual meticulously scouring the others for ticks and other trespassers. They all surrounded the baby and gave him a good going-over, much to his displeasure. After this, it was back to relaxing, with the silverback giving a great demonstration of Gorilla Yoga- leg and calf stretches included. It was crazy- here we were, in the middle of the Rwandan jungle, 5 meters away from wild mountain gorillas, and one of the largest of the bunch is  so relaxed, he was just taking a minute to stretch his legs- amazing…

 

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After what seemed like only a few minutes, our hour was up, and we had to start heading down the mountain. We snapped our last photos, saying goodbye and thanking the gorillas for letting us spend some time with them. We slowly followed our guide back to our bags, packed up our cameras, and began the trek back down the volcano. Going down was much easier, and as luck would have it, some clouds had moved in and hidden the sun, cooling things off a bit. We quickly came back to the wall, and settled down on the other side to eat the lunches we had brought along with us. It was a quiet lunch, with everyone looking at their photos and rehashing the past hour. A few drops of rain started to fall out of the grey sky as we finished our sandwiches, and we knew it was time to get going. We couldn’t have timed it any better, as the sky opened up just as we arrived back at the truck with a downpour that would’ve had us soaked through only minutes before.  We piled in, each tired from the trek and slowly coming down from the high of such an incredible experience. The rain pounded on the roof and splashed across the windshield, the bump and sway of the truck lulling some to sleep. The drive back to the park office was quiet as well, some people sleeping, some gazing out into the rain, gazing back up the slopes of the volcano- honestly, I think we were all still up on the volcano, still in the company of the magnificent mountain gorillas.

 

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If you’d like to learn more about how to travel through Rwanda, click here.

For more on the Backpack Prof’s travels through Rwanda, click here.

 

 

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