The World As I See It

Greece

2010-11-27T18:48:00.000-08:00

Italy

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Turkey

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Latest Photos - July, 2010

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Fall, 2009

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Photos: Trains

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Story: Historic Rail Trip

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Historic Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Rail Trip

I recently had the pleasure of riding the rail on a vintage narrow gauge steam train through some of Colorado's most dramatic fall scenery. I was treated to vistas of Toltec Gorge, climbing over 10,000 feet on the Cumbres Pass, and the season's first snow fall upon the golden aspen.

Volunteers have kept this beautifully restored treasure, which is the longest and highest railroad, delighting passengers as it chugs up and down on its unusual "narrow gauge". The track was built to accommodate tighter turns in the mountains reducing construction costs in the 1880s and to support the mining industry. A network of railroads put into service at this time were instrumental in developing northern New Mexico and southwest Colorado.

A coal powered steam engine, which I can attest to, spewed coal in my scalp and particles lodged painfully in my eyes, as I insisted standing on the platform behind the engine to snap pictures. I loved the ride swaying side to side in the cold.

Occasional stops were required on the trip to fill the engine with coal and water which enabled us to complete the run as not enough could be stored on board for one trip. We snaked up and down and around then entered a mud tunnel's ink blackness which required wooden supports over its 342 foot length hoping it was still shored up.

I survived the frigid, unheated car for the five hour trip - body frozen but what an experience!

Photos: Antique Boat Show - McCall

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Photos: Abstracts

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Photos: Animals

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Photos: Panoramas

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Photos: United States

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Photos: Peru

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Photos: Costa Rica

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Photos: Flowers

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Photos: Alaska

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Photos: Africa, Europe

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Story: Spirituality in Peru

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Michael Holberton owns a compfortable hostel in Urumbamba located in the Sacred Valley between Cusco and Machu Picchu, Hospedaje Los Jardines. You can also take advantage of his biking expertise through his operation of Moutain Bike Tours. Check out his website: http://www.machawasi.com/

I've been moved spiritually by trips to Peru - thankful for my survival.

The first ten years ago where I became too ill after caning down the Amazon and camping with my private guide, meeting natives in the very small remote river towns, fishing for Perinea. I continued to Southern Peru through Ariquipa until reaching Lake Titicaca where I could no longer move.

An amazing Shaman offered to help and suddenly appeared at my hotel asking if I needed anything. "Yes, I need to return to the US, I am weak and not able to move." He prepared my reservation changes, transported me to the airport as our car rose from the lake bowl where a wisp of wind hit my gut and stopped my symptoms until I safely arrived at home.

He knowingly stopped at a market so I could purchase gifts for my family I worried about bring home and insisted on treating me to a "typical" Peruvian lunch at a small local cafe, never to be forgotten for it's taste, variety of food and encounters with people my spiritual guide introduced me to.

Never completing the original trip to Cusco and Machu Picchu and my amazingly moving experience with the Shaman, the trip's sudden end has bothered me- always wishing to, always needing completion until, on a whim this spring, I decided it was the time.

April, 2008 I surveyed the web, made contacts and decided I must complete my original Peru trip plans. I had family, economic issues to wrestle with but it must be now.

I was soon landing in Lima, yet once again encountering it's deterioration, crime and battles with the earthquake in 1998 and general eroding of the South American economy. Pollution filled the air as I found a taxi to drive me to my Melerose Hostel. Secured by heavy policy patrols of the city, I settled in and made preparations for my flight to Cuzco and trip to Machu Pichu.

Upon arrive in Cuzco, almost 10,000 feet above sea level my altitude sickness ensured, despite all my preparations. Trying to acclimate for a few day, proved unproductive but traveled by rail to my intended Inca destination.

Despite my serious illness, actually three of them, I was able to enjoy Machu Picchu with such a pure joy I'd never imagined. It was Serene, energetic and at the same time - magical. I swung my camera as an outlaw racing ahead of the crowds, getting my best shot, then slowed to an almost stop while sitting on rocks in various levels of the mystical ruins, enjoying the moment, me, the universe - what I had strived for the last ten years, knowing I must.

I then continued, sick as I now became, to Ollantambo and Urantambo to stay in a secluded, caring environment to restore and get strong enough for my US return. I now, a person changed forever.

My days and nights are filled with images of the mist shrouded mountains, the unsmiling but knowing people, a peace I will never forget.

Story: Rafting - Just For The Fun

2008-08-07T16:02:00.000-07:00

Four year's ago, I met my man. He posed a challenge - raft the rivers with me?

At that moment, a decision was made to go with him, do it, never a regret for safety or emotion.

We first started out on Idaho rivers in his small twelve foot raft - so much to learn and overcome. My fear of the unknown, of the water I had been held underneath as a child, of the man. But I moved forward.

Initial dippings into the Salmon River putting in at the small rafting community of Riggins running Class 3 and 4 rapids, with a take out at Lucile, proved to be a glories day of fun.

Next was a longer trip on the North Fork of the Salmon launching in Corn Creek after a dirt bumpy wilderness road of hours out of Salmon to get to our destination. A five day struggle on the river with pristine mountain panoramas, colorful butterflies, hot springs, fly fishing, native hieroglyphics and just pure seclusion.

We graduated to the Hells Canyon run which, at surpise record levels of 32 CPS due to a massive water release. We were one of the few boats on the river. You never know when you arrive what will be released, but we decided to "go for it" as others sat it out.

The "Green Room" opened for us. A wall of 15-20 foot water as you descend in it's turbulent trough. With the maneuvers of my excellent man at the ores we safely sank to it's depths and miraculously surfaced just as water crashed behind us - just out of danger, we triumpantly celebrated.

Mike wanted to share the "Killer Kern" he had learned rafting on in California. I nervously prepared the night before knowing it would not be an easy run. We camped at Chico Flat, north of town and put in at Sandy Flat. Mike did the shuttle of 11 miles leaving me behind with snakes, dust and gratefully a beer as he thumbed a ride back .

The river was running at 3378 CFS with a top recording of 4,000. Swift water. NO ONE was running it - why I wondered as a novice? It was a beautiful narrow river with dripping tree branches standing in mid river we needed to dodge. Brush snags, wood piled up created dams with underwater currents.

Then "log man" appeared - a huge 15 foot floating encumbrance with branches sticking out and an what appeared to be face protruding in the front - he was apparently after rafts tracking us like a crockadle as we sped down river. At points he closed in on us but occasionally got delayed in an eddy or rapid. Pressure on, we darted around him, tried to speed up and finally stalled to let him pass. An extreme danger if we met him head on.

Flush Rapid, which we scouted, was just ahead. Success, we made it through, had to port our heavy raft over rocks around the next rapid in the 90 degree plus heat with torrents of water cascading into the river depths below, mincing every particle of river sole and spitting it out .
We had become chosen soldiers of the river, no one in site to help, attacking, conquering. A narrow water passage lay just ahead, unbeknownst to me. As I rounded the corner I starred in disbelief at the newly cemented rocky steep slope with churning river and six foot wide chute below. It would, if we navigated it properly, expel us into the violent Kern below. There was only one way to go.

We launched, got suck vertically sideways for 30 seconds in the narrow, dangers opening which threatening to spill us into the boiling water until the River Gods released us to downriver flow - surprised, we accomplished our challenge and were free .

At our take out, we gratefully popped our Champagne cork and toasted the rivers, our success and blessings. We had avoided flipping in the freezing, tangled Kern and were now up for one more advernture.

Life should be encountered "Just for the Fun of It" and I am very lucky to have had an opportunity to experience the extremes of that.

Story: Costa Rica Play

2008-08-07T15:48:00.000-07:00

Shame on us destroying our planet.

On the spur of the moment, my boyfriend and I decided to meet in Costa Rica on a backpacking trip. We would stay mostly in hostels (our first experience together hostelling where we met many supportive people that suggested destinations and arranged future travel for our unplanned trip) while moving around the country just as locals did - by bus.

We criss-crossed the Costa Rica experiencing rainforests where we flew over lofty vegetation canopies on an 18 station zip line, bungee jumped (my first exciting time), slept at the observatory and witness volcanic eruptions in the black night.

We travel down dusty, ridged mud roads in a bus, then by a small boat to arrive on the pacific coast where we spent days lazing around beaches and climbing up a three tier waterfall that required I shimmy down a rope to the water pool below, well worth the hot, dusty vertical accent.

Wanting a bit more diversity and to leave tourist behind, despite many warnings of danger, we then took a bus across the country arriving in Cahuita, on the Caribbean side, where the color of skin darkened dramatically.

Right now, this is a very poor economic area that has recently been devastated by the death of the coco industry due to plant disease. Recovery monetary attempts now seem to be focused on tourism but standards here are so beneath other destinations – only a trickle come.

Due to deforestation through stepped up logging efforts, there has been an increase in erosion. Loose soil washes into the sea and clogs up the feeding cnidarians that form Costa Rica’s prime coral reef.

Then large corporations came in and created banana plantations, used pesticides that washed into the ocean and damaged sea life. The 1991 earthquake raised the shoreline by more than a meter (3.3 feet) exposing and killing parts of the coral reef as well. An increase of ignorant or not so, have damaged the coral as tourists stepped on this fragile environment adding to its destruction.

So logging initiates a process that is multiplied by these other occurrences of destruction. The people here fight to maintain their original life style that is rapidly changing, and fear the worst. Other countries' citizens come to Costa Rica and offer 10 to 100 times more than the original value of these beautifully forested farms. Eventually these poor natives have difficulty living on their meager mean, much less buy property or keep up with their taxes when they sell their land compounding the countries’ economic woos. Where will these people resettle?

Speaking with many hostel travelers we hear the same story of properties’ soaring value in their countries as well. Around the world, the prosperous haves are pricing natives out, even in my small mountain town in Idaho. My concern is as we destroy our environment, price out locals with the population doubling and tripling in shorter spans of time, we are destroying diversification, charm and peace.

Everywhere we traveled in this country we have heard locals concern for global warming, much as we did in Alaska. These people are in touch and dependent on their land and have seen alarming changes in the past ten years.

One example of global warming surfaced as we were treated by a principal of a school from the small Caribbean town we stayed in for a day’s walk through his treasured park, Parque National Cahuita. He spoke with passion, "as the ocean rises it undermines the coconut and other trees roots toppling them to the sea and further eroding soil that again washes to the once crystal clean azure waters, now becoming silty and accelerated killing the fish and sea life at alarming rates."

We Americans are finally starting to recognize the global warming trend that these simple people have known and feared for years. Some of us care, most don’t. We have more pressing concerns – money, living within our electronic cocoons and our phobic inner concern for ourselves.

We found loving, relaxed people here and just were saddened by the "maturing" of their country.

Story: Alaska - Learning From The Master of Yukon Quest

2008-08-07T15:23:00.000-07:00

Frank Turner, who has raced in 23 Yukon Quests offers a camp called Muktuk Adventures to train novice and experienced mushers (dog-sled drivers). Check out his website: http://www.muktuk.com/

I learned from the master how to motivate.

Our trip started July 18, 2006. Driving to Montana, hiking up to a remote chalet in Glacier National Park where we enjoying abundant wildflowers and wildlife on Logan Pass. We met friends with defrosted steak blood dripping from my pack as a result of hiking in 100 degree temps, with no shade on the trail.

Covering almost 8,000 miles on our camp trip pulling a utility trailer my boyfriend had customized to tow all of his toys (sports gear) and food, we first ferried through the Inside Passage on the Malispina Ferry from Bellingham, WA to Juneau, Alaska for four days. Camping on the boat’s solarium deck, we duck-taping our tent to its floor and relaxed.

Flying to Glacier Bay in a four passenger LAB plane with a very young, new pilot we settled at Bartlett Cove campground in the rain forest sharing our camp with the grizzlies. The next day we were dropped off alone in a remote northern finger of the bay for our 5 day kayak, camp trip…alone. A small, but essentially overlooked piece of equipment (a paddle) by the outfitter, caused a disaster during a tumultuous storm which threatened our lives.

We continued by ferry to Haines, then drove over the arched southern rain forest highways (running out of gas just once) to the Kenai Peninsula where I actually caught a fish after a two day attempt in the pelting rain floating in our raft. Yes, it looked like bait, but it was my catch.
On to Anchorage, stopping at the spectacular Denali and interesting Fairbanks we frequently slept in bear habitat. We challenged The Top of the World road that connected us to the Klondike Highway where we camped just outside of wild Dawson City. Due to a late dinner outside our tent, were treated at midnight to an almost human dance of the undulating Northern Lights spectacular display much to our surprise as this is unusual this early in the seaons.

Just north of Whitehorse, Canada, we had the privilege of meeting Frank Turner, a winner of and 23 year participant in the “Yukon Quest”. This is a grass routes race, much more challenging than the more well known Iditarod Spending two days on his ranch we learned how he motivated, cared for his team of dogs and just why he is a consistent winner.

He explained how he achieves victory and competes in the race. He never puts up a tent for warmth in this sub-zero climate. When he stops at night he first cares for his dogs putting down hay for their warmth, mixes a hot dinner for them, then takes off their running boots and massages their bodies. Next it’s his turn. He eats, and then goes to sleep, incredibly, on top of his sleigh with no blankets, no tent. He does this for one reason – to stay tough, not to get comfortable. The incredible cold keeps him alert and doesn’t allow him to rest long.

Tough – he is. In 2005, near the end of the race he had been experiencing incredible tooth pain. When he stopped he insisted the broken tooth be pulled, without medication, not to miss out on the ribs that lie ahead at the finish line. This is the 3rd tooth he’s broken eating his main meal of granola bars on the trail.

Dogs are chosen for each year’s team with specific varying qualities and to complement the total team effort. He usually picks about four females and the remaining 10 are males. He likes to use the females as they are better at assessing the total challenge and focused, where the males have team strength. He mentioned that the female qualities make a more balance group and it is worth loosing some of the team’s power, to gain their attributes.

The teams positions and lead are rotated depending on the individual dog’s strengths and what is needed at various times during the race.

A two year old male is watched by Frank as a possible lead during the year. Many would give up on a particular dog for this position but Frank has seen a dog surprisingly blossom and come into their strength at 4 years, sometimes loss of shyness, he speculates. If he sees the dog actively pursuing the lead position, Frank would award him with it and in return, he would have satisfaction in the dog’s winning efforts.

The dogs at the kennel get to run off leash for play time when Frank chooses a small group for training rotating his selection of animals frequently and lavishes individual attention on each in a way that complements and trains a particular animal. “Play is important, it can not just be work”, he says with a smile as he rubs the neck of a dog lovingly and praises him.

Frank is the leader, the Alpha, and the group must have complete trust and respect for him to make his group work. They must feel he has their best interest at heart and a great loyalty surfaces.

Our trip ended after driving through Canada and arriving in the US counting 48 days out of the 50 living in rain. It took a toll on our spirits but the exhilarating experience of viewing so much wildlife, beauty and the lessons from the people we met along the way made for a memorable trek.

Story: Wild Africa

2008-08-07T15:14:00.000-07:00

Never have I had such an emotional experience - my first adventure trip to Africa.

I was struggling to stay in the corporate world in 1993 - with the system and with what I wanted out of life when I had the brilliant idea for my first solo backpack trip. Just over 50 I was ready for a challenge, a distraction, a real life adventure.

Finding a world map in a rusty file cabinet, I pressed it to a window and enlarged the continents tracing over shapes. As the sun set I spread the map before me and circled areas I'd always craved to explore.

Africa was first, then South America with the Amazon and Inca civilization in Peru, New Zealand's aborigines and tranquil Tahiti, Bali areas. A wonderful route developed circumnavigating the globe.

In August I excused myself from the business world for 2 months to follow my dreams.

I first challenged Italy and Greece pleading to admit an "older person" to their hostels, laughing and sharing stories with younger travelers sleeping on boat decks, trains and hostels.

Upon landing in Arashu, Africa, it was a different, very subdued time. This was life for real - a challenging, frightening reality. People risked and died here every day, every hour, every moment. Fractions were in warfare, maiming - terrifying - destroying their opponents. The group I had aligned with, happy tourists, were caught in this conflict on their vacation originally traveling as simple explorers through Kenya and Tanzania.

We set up camp ourselves on our thrifty safari in places most would not stay - ungated, mostly unguarded remote sites with animal roaming through our compound touching our tents nightly - lions, wildebeests, elephants with constant concern about dangerous poachers.

Traveling to stay outside a Masi transient village we crossed barren land with no structures in site for hours. A small hand was held up motioning us to stop along the route. It was a boy, maybe 8 years old, who had been left by his family miles away to watch the goats and guide them to a small fraction of water that could be found in this environment. He would pursue this goal for days, weeks without food or shelter or other human encounters.
Our vehicle stopped to inquire what he needed - could it be food, clothing, money?

His request was so simple; just a little water was all he asked for. Once given, he went back to the parched and barren yellow bush to continue his plight for his family, happy he had a few sips of life's sustaining liquid.

I lay down on the plastic red seat as tears spilled forth never to forget this life lesson or want more than the necessities of life.