TravelStream™ news feed for member hamiltonfamily on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/hamiltonfamily en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Fri, 04 Dec 2009 11:21:26 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1235836020/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1235836020/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1235836020/tpod.html Fri, 04 Dec 2009 11:21:26 -0500 Hamilton/Ross Family RTW Adventure

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Moshi, Tanzania

February 28, 2009
Kilimanjaro challenge a success!
We are now in our recovery day following a successful summit 2 days ago. The whole experience was pretty amazing. Our guide, Saumu, the only female Kili guide in Moshi, came to our hotel the day prior to the climb to check out our equipment and clothing to ensure we were adequately prepared (of course Andy had us all kitted up with the right gortex, fleece, down and boots - but as it turned out we could have used neoprene balaclavas and neoprene camel back tubes too!). The next day we drove for about 4 hours around the south and west base of Kili to our starting point at one of the park gates. We met the porters and all the food and supplies are weighed and distributed. It was dramatic to see the degree of logging right within the Kilimanjaro Park boundary There is some evidence that Kili's glaciers are receding (some predict disappearing in the next 5-10 years), because of global warming, but also because of human activity such as logging and fires (caused by trying to smoke out bees from their hives) on the lower mountain slopes.
The epic started shortly after when our mini van with our family and guides in it became stuck on this impossibly rutted dirt road leading to the drop off point. A bus was behind with a group of 10 from the UK who would be doing the same route as us at the same time - they turned out to be welcome company along the way. We managed to get the van unstuck, but within minutes we were stuck again, this time with a flat tire, no jack, and miles from anywhere. We were loaded onto the big transport truck carrying the porters (8 for our group, plus cook and 'waiter' and about 20 for the other group) to finish the journey.
We had 6 days to acclimatize, slowly working our way up the mountain. Our daily routine was as follows: 0700 - we were woken by Omar's (our waiter) smiling face and 'Jambo', with hot water for washing. Breakfast at 0730, usually porridge, toast and eggs. Pack up our gear. 0830 - start hiking to our next destination. Meanwhile, the porters would dismantle the tents and pack up the gear, then race past us on the trail with their heavy loads and set up camp in time for our arrival and lunch. 1400 - quiet time., usually a nap. 1600 - a short hike to get some elevation and back to camp again in time for dinner at 1800. Dinner, and all the food was amazing, considering it was cooked in a little tent on the side of a mountain! I was leery at first as I thought there was a high chance of contracting some type of food born bug as normal 'food safe' principles were likely difficult to achieve under the circumstances, but the cook did a great job and we all stayed healthy. There was popcorn and peanuts as a snack most nights, then some type of soup, and anything from spaghetti, to African stew, or fish and rice, followed by fresh fruit and more tea. Bed time was at 2000 - we could barely keep our eyes open to read a few pages of our book. Our tent was just perfect for our family - 2, 2 person tents attached by a dining area. Maddie and I shared as did Duncan and Andy (we thought the close confines of the tent may test their sibling relationship beyond it's already tenuous tolerance level!) We settled into the routine nicely and I must say, the children outdid themselves by getting along and being positive the whole trip, even under difficult circumstances. We have never been a card playing family, but we had a deck and a card game book and played some great games of Cheat (we did try more complicated games but either it is our sub normal aptitude for cards or the hypoxia, but Cheat was as complicated as a game as we could manage). One night, at the Lava Tower high camp it snowed - which is apparently very rare. The next day was the most beautiful hike we had done yet. Until this time, we were traversing the Shira Plateau which was at an elevation that supported only sparse shrubs and lots of rocks - not very scenic, other than the moments Kili peaked through the clouds, giving us a tease of what was yet to come. But from Lava tower, we descended in the snow past the Western Breach and Arrow Glaciers, down into a very unique microclimate that supports the growth of these beautiful Tree Groundsels (Senicio Kilimanjari) that appear prehistoric. We then climbed the Barranco Wall - a very fun hour of scrambling up a cliff path requiring some minor rock climbing skills and comfort with exposure (amazingly, the porters carry their loads on this route). 2 days later, we arrived in what would be our high camp, the Barafu Huts. This camp was precariously balanced on a collection of tumbled lava rocks - the porters just eeking out enough space for the tents. This was a busy place, with groups coming and going each day (unlike our earlier camps that sometimes had just our 2 groups). It reminded me of a refugee camp, maybe in the hills of Afghanistan, with a distinct smell of urine permeating the air (too many climbers opting for a pee in the rocks rather than braving the pit toilets), bits of garbage inevitably strewn about (quickly managed by the ravens and little striped mice), tribes of porters hanging about talking in Swahili, smoke emanating from the cook tents, nervous trekkers preparing for the early night summit bid, and exhausted and battered looking climbers stumbling down, most looking somewhat dazed with sore knees post climb. That evening we had an early dinner and went to bed by 7 pm, waking at 1200 for tea and porridge by our faithful Omar. The wind was blowing but we were reassured that it would abate by dawn. We had at least a 5-6 hour climb in the dark zig zagging up the rock and scree slope. The wind was relentless - something we were not prepared for. The guide held onto Maddie - at times she was almost blown off her feet. We were also accompanied by Mathew, our assistant guide with the ready smile and infections laugh who babbled the whole time, in contrast to Saumu's more quiet nature. We were surprised to also be accompanied by Omar, our faithful 'waiter' who, as it turns out, had summitted 23 times already. Also along was Cuthbert, who owns Ahsante Tours. He ran up from Moshi in one day to summit with our 2 groups! We trudged along, getting progressively short of breath and cold. You couldn't stop for more than a few seconds to try to drink - but soon that became impossible as our water bottles froze, and Andy and Duncan's camel back tubing froze too. There was no opportunity to make adjustments such as putting on an extra balaclava, or even tightening your hood, so psychologically it felt more stressful than it might otherwise be without the wind. Imagine the darkness, a line of climbers with head torches - all you could do was to look down at the person's boots in front of you and go 'pole pole' (slowly, slowly), and try to suck some oxygen out of the thin air. There were times that if we stopped, I would have turned back as I thought that the conditions were too extreme. Periodically, we were passed by people who obviously decided to turn around, accompanied by a guide. We were warned that we might see people puking on the side of the trail, and to just keep going but I didn't see this - only evidence of an emergency #2 stop in the middle of the trail (I can't even imagine how that came about). Eventually, as we neared the ridge at Stella Point, the dawn slowly broke, producing a sunrise that is world renowned. But who had the time or energy to appreciate it - certainly not me - a few quick glances, puff puff, pole pole and keep going. Arriving at Stella Point is a transient goal, as the real summit is another 45 minutes away at Uhuru Point along the summit ridge, past the disappearing glaciers on the left, and the volcanic crater to the right (I know this only because of a very few quick glances, not because of a true opportunity to appreciate the vista). Here too, we were battered by the wind. At this point, Maddie said her toes were getting cold (we had brought hand and toe warmers but 1. we couldn't stop to take Maddie's boots off to put them on, and 2. we discovered that the hand warmers didn't work anyways because they require a certain level of oxygen to chemically produce the heat - and oxygen was in short supply! - they don't tell you this on the package!!). Saumu grabbed Maddie and started marching her up the ridge, leaving us behind to put on our down jackets etc - she knew that if Maddie stopped she might not be able to keep going. I should say that all the way up, Duncan and Maddie were ahead of me, and really had no physical difficulty with the climbing. I truly was the 'weakest link' and at times was huffing and puffing, pleading for us to go more pole pole, particularly on the scree slope where the zig zagging stopped and a straight up the hill trail began with one having to dig in with the boots like a penguin and try not to slip backwards down the hill with each step. We all finally made the top, only to find about 20 other people, all vying for a photo opportunity under the famous Uhuru Summit sign post. We quickly decided it was just too bloody cold and windy to even consider waiting our turn so abandoned organized picture taking other than a few hasty snaps and hastily retreated down the slope. It wasn't over yet - we still had at least a 3-4 hour downhill, knee breaking descent to high camp. There, we collapsed in our tents after a rehydrating drink and slept for a few hours before breaking camp and heading down to the Mweka Huts, another 2 hours of knee knackering downhill sliding on loose scree. At this point we felt great relief, but instead of a sense of accomplishment, I'd have to say the immediate predominant feeling was one of having survived a traumatic experience. I'm happy to say that this feeling has mostly been replaced by a feeling of success, and relief that we all summitted as the disappointment would have been overwhelming had we not. Most people say that to climb Kili is a 'once in a lifetime experience' and this can be taken in 2 ways - yes, it is amazing to stand on the top of Africa for even a few minutes, having challenged yourself beyond belief (trust me, it was worse than childbirth), but also, most people (unless they are guides) don't come back to do the mountain again (it has been checked off their 'to do' list). I must say, that like childbirth, one forgets quickly the intensity of the experience and the next day, looking up at Kili gleaming in the sunshine and appearing warm and benign on the summit, made Andy and I think "wouldn't it be nice to be able to summit in better weather and truly enjoy the experience?"
In the morning at Mweka, we had a little ceremony where we tipped the porters and thanked them, and they reciprocated with a lively rendition of the songs they had been singing all along the way. In fact, on the night ascent, one particular memory is of the guides with us singing their Swahili songs to keep us going. Their a cappella voices were hauntingly atmospheric given the circumstances. The final 5 hour decent was captivating as we traveled through cloud forest filled with verdant ferns, knarley moss dripping trees and Colobus Monkeys, Safari ants and Chameleons.
At the park gates we were able to confirm with the Park Ranger's records that Maddie was the youngest Canadian girl to summit Kili (there was already at least 1 Canadian boy younger than Duncan to summit). Apparently the guides knew this but didn't want Maddie to know in case it put too much pressure on her. Needless to say, she and we are very proud of her, and Duncan too. It was a grueling experience and they tackled it without a single complaint (well, maybe one or two, but we all had our moments).


Statistics:
Number of days on the mountain 8
Meters ascended: 5895
Meters descended: 4000
Headaches 4
Ibuprofen/Tylenol 20
Squat toilet initiation 1 (way to go Maddie)
Pees behind rocks too many
Number of changes of underwear don't ask (too few)
Number of showers 0
Packages of baby wipes 4
Number of renditions of Jambo Bwana 30 (thank-you Mathew)
Times children bickered 0 (truly amazing)
Times children whined 0 (another record)
Times adults whined 1 (Lava camp was a low point for me)
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1247585665/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1247585665/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1247585665/tpod.html Fri, 17 Jul 2009 12:38:16 -0400 Hamilton/Ross Family RTW Adventure

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Summerland, British Columbia, Canada

It has been a few weeks now and we are settling back into our life at home. It is summer in the Okanagan and a wonderful time and place to return. We are truly blessed. Clean water that you can drink from the tap (at least at the moment). Water you can brush your teeth in. Toilet paper that you can flush down the toilet. Toilet paper. Western toilets (though I must say, that often, when given the choice, I chose the squat over the sit down. Trust me, if the conditions are less than optimal, a squat is far better than a sit down flush!). Abundance of safe food. Palatial housing. Beautiful garden. Garbage pick-up and recycling. The luxury of our own cars (something within reach for more in India now that the affordable Tata Nano is out - this is bound to make a crazy place crazier!) Fast internet  (what a luxury). A doctor's visit for free and quality medicine for a pittance. Affordable dentist and orthodontist visits booked (many times Duncan found people staring at him and he realized it was because of his braces). Satisfying jobs to return to. Quality education for the children (both of them). A choice whether they want to work or not as children (no carpet 'school' to attend). No burka to wear. Maddie won't be married off this year. A safe, democratic country... well, you get the point. 

 It is wonderful to count our blessings for what we have. We do live in a remarkable country. But the places and people we visited this past 6 months were also remarkable. The beauty was boundless. The people were gracious and welcoming. So many lived in much simpler circumstances but were just as content with their lives (if not more). Spirituality, family and community often playing a greater role in their lives. There are lessons to be learned. 

 Of course, we are asked "What was your favourite place?" or the kids are asked "So, what did you learn?" Bali was certainly easy to enjoy. Nepal was breathtaking (literally). Kili was a fantastic accomplishment. India was a lesson. Jordan a surprise (the Wadi Rum was a highlight). Egypt maybe a bit of a disappointment (though certainly worthwhile). Zanzibar was a contrast. South Africa was a good start. 
I asked Duncan what his advice would be to a friend if his parents told him they wanted to do a similar journey. He said "Good luck; bring ear plugs; look both ways before you cross the street; you never have the right of way; carry toilet paper; don't look back". Pretty sound advice. 

We took the time for this journey because we saw this as a 'once in a lifetime opportunity' to spend time together as a family, experience new adventures and gain a better understanding about other people and cultures. I think this has been accomplished. Each of us will take this journey with us for the rest of our life. Hopefully it will make us all better people. Who knows how the experience will influence Duncan and Maddie - maybe they will be inspired to travel more themselves, volunteer in other countries, become Buddhist, work towards world peace?? Or maybe they will simply have a greater understanding of the complexity and diversity of the world and it's people. 

We all discover the world in different ways. Not everyone can take the time to do what we have done. But to any family even remotely considering such a journey we (rather, Mark Twain) would say ...

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from thesafe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."  
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1246807934/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1246807934/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hamiltonfamily/1/1246807934/tpod.html Sat, 11 Jul 2009 19:58:43 -0400 Hamilton/Ross Family RTW Adventure

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Hong Kong, China

Andy and I had spent a few days in HK 18 years ago and at that time had felt we wanted to return again - it was an amazing city then and still is now. We stayed at the YMCA believe it or not. But it is one of the best kept secrets in HK -right next to the Peninsula on the waterfront in Kowloon and it is run like a 31/2* hotel - the only difference is there is a community center on the lower floors. 

Hong Kong seems to me to be one of the best run cities in the world (at least out of the ones we've visited). While it might hold more than 7 million people, the city's planning and infrastructure makes it work so well. Public transportation is a breeze. Housing is in large apartment blocks so there is an abundance of green space. In fact, there is an amazing network of hiking trails easily accessible, including one that is 70 km long. And it is very clean - something that we realize now is very difficult for many cities to achieve. 

Of course, most visitors are in HK for the urban experience and the city sure delivers. It seems to be one big shopping mall, with interconnected pedestrian walkways, either elevated or underground,  linking them. There is even a network of escalators going up the steep hillside in central HK to get people up to the residential area. 

And HK is a city of lights! There is a spectacular light show that is held each evening with the office buildings of Central HK programmed with a flickering lights that is set to music. You just have to look out your hotel window (if you are lucky enough to have a harbour view (ours was partial), or head down to the Kowloon waterfront and the music is piped in along the seaside promenade. Quite amazing. 

Maddie finally had her quota of mall time, including a mall with 700 stores. Prices were great on some things, but most clothing was priced similar to home. 

We ventured out to the usual sights - Victoria peak tram, Temple street night market (the best food we had), Ocean World, Aberdeen and the Jumbo Floating Restaurant, Dim Sum, tea at the Peninsula Hotel, Star Ferry. I had plans to go hiking on Lamma Island but this was kiboshed by the rest of the family as too much work (and to be fair, it was in the low 30's and very humid). 

So, here's my confession. I don't do anything illegal besides jay walking but I do sometimes buy fake watches when the opportunity arise. This doesn't make sense as I don't even approve of the kids downloading pirated music and make them pay for songs on ITunes. I know that buying fake watches isn't ethical but it is tempting to buy a Rolex for $50.00. I can't justify it, and after this last experience probably won't bother again. We had seen fake goods in Kuala Lumpur in the street market and Bali where they are sold in proper stores on the main shopping street, completely upfront. We discovered though that fake goods in HK are more of a clandestine purchase than in Bali. Walk down any busy shopping street and you have young men whispering as you pass "watches, handbags", like they whisper drug offers in Kathmandu. So unwisely, we decided to check out the wares on offer and followed a  fellow down a warren of corridors in a busy shopping arcade to a front room where he knocked on the back door and, after checking that no one was watching (the HK police?) was ushered in to a small room with binders filled with pictures of watches (or handbags). I choose my watch, and they sent a runner somewhere else to bring it back for inspection. I later braved a repeat performance to get 2 more watches for family at home. Trust me, it really wasn't worth it as I then lost sleep with visions of Canadian Customs setting the 'fake goods' sniffing dogs on me (they have those don't they?) and carting me away to BC Pen for a life of being being someone's 'favourite' cell mate. I resolved to fess up if they asked if I had any pirated goods (of course) and just take my loss. I later learned that they don't even stop freighter loads of fake goods coming into Canada unless the RCMP or Health Canada direct them to do so. Nevertheless, my advice now is don't bother with the fake goods - the watches are definitely sub par quality and the guilt isn't worth it (but I guess I'll wear my Longines as long as it lasts!). 

Some random observations...
- Lots of masks in HK - Swine flu fear or a usual practice? It is funny to see people diligently wear their masks as they go about their daily routine with the mask pulled down to cover their mouth but expose their nose. Not sure if they were doing any good. I'm sure some fashionista will devise designer wear masks to match the Gucci (fake or real) outfits. 
- HK women are desperate to protect themselves from the sun. They carry umbrellas everywhere, wear long sleeves and pants (and even removable sleeves if they have a short sleeved top on to wear while they are outside), some with gloves, and a few covered with lycra masks that wouldn't be out of place in a conservative Muslim country. Skin whitening products are in all the beauty isles. Isn't it funny that in contrast, despite all the skin cancer fear, we still value a sun kissed glow as a sign of beauty - resorting to fake tanners if we are particular about avoiding the sun. 
- HK has shopping down to a fine art. At midnight it is still hopping - the streets are full of people shopping still! Andy and I were able to buy prescription glasses - complete with an eye test - at midnight on Nathan road, on a Tuesday night. 
- Duncan loved the sushi (in lieu of a stop in Tokyo which proved too expensive). It is fun to sit at a counter and having the prepared sushi trundle by on a conveyor belt. All you have to do is pick up what you like, and the waitress tallies up the bill based on the colour of plates left over at the end of the meal. All the sushi restaurants seemed to be packed. You had to take a number from one of the machines and hang out on the sidewalk for your turn to eat. 

It's hard to believe our travels, at least for this part of our journey is at an end. The kids are looking forward to reuniting with friends for the summer, Andy is already thinking about work and the challenges awaiting him, and I'm thinking about our garden and the work to be done on it to catch-up as well as spending some quality time with Lani before she heads to Botswana. We will need some time to reflect on our experiences now that they are done - our intention being that we will hold on to some of the lessons we have learned and incorporate them into our daily lives. 



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Ubud, Bali, Indonesia

The Lonely Planet says that “Ubud takes a Balinese holiday and makes it sublime”. This couldn’t be more true. Where else could you have a shower in a deep stone tub in your private villa’s outside bathroom...while gazing past a large stone reclining Buddha in your garden...ripe with the aroma of frangipani blossoms...listening to a parade of ducks quack by with a village rooster cockadoodling in the distance... and watching a farmer in gumboots and a straw hat plant rice in the verdant green rice paddies beyond... all the while the sun sets behind the distant palm trees turning the sky a deep orange... and a collection of colourful kites, big and small, are silhouetted in the sky as they dance in the gentle evening breeze.

I was hoping that Ubud would fulfill my Bali fantasies and it didn’t disappoint. While our time in Nusa Dua was certainly relaxing, it was rather sterile, and Nusa Lembongan had a fishing village atmosphere that was wonderful but very different from central Bali. Set on the gentle slopes leading to Bali’s highlands and volcanoes, Ubud is Bali’s cultural heartland. ‘Discovered’ by western artists in the 1930’s, they stimulated the development of Balinese art by lending it direction, support and a market. Today, Ubud is filled with galleries - from traditional to contemporary- of both Balinese artists and western artists. Balinese wood carving, stone carving, gold and silver smithing, kite and mask making, and textile weaving are world famous. The narrow streets leading to Ubud are lined with their workshops. Ubud is also home to fabulous restaurants and great shopping besides art (clothes, jewelry, shoes, fake Prada and Rolex and the usual Bali tourist souvenirs). It is a bustling town, filled with the ubiquitous mass of scooters, but you only have to step a block away from the town center to be in the middle of rice paddies, village temples and women making offerings at the local shrine. It reminded me in many ways of a Bali version of San Miguelle de Allende (art, culture, a history of western artistic influence, a home to many expats who have succumbed to its charm).

We stayed in a wonderful villa, Mandela Desa, about a 1/2 an hour south of Ubud. It is in a little traditional village that was bloody hard to find but once we did we knew we had stumbled upon a real treasure (actually, Trip Advisor helped). It seemed worlds away from the bustle of south Bali. To get to our villa you passed the rice paddies, turned left at the little warung, past the local boys constructing an enormous kite, right at the village temple with the men practicing their gamelen, down a lane way that certainly didn’t have cars in mind when it was built, past the young girl bathing in the irrigation ditch beside the lane (Balinese believe that while you are bathing you are invisible so there is no embarrassment), honked at the 3 geese that were resident to the villa, swerved around the barking Bali dogs and entered an oasis. We alloted some time to power shop in the markets and shops - I was like a kid in a candy store as there was an abundance of ‘antiques’ from Bali and Timor. I love tribal art and Andy does as well so we could have filled a container with what we saw but alas, we had to try to stick to a reasonable budget (and to what could be carried home in the already bulging suitcases) so restraint was required. In the end a few items were purchased, including a bronze buddha that I had to put in my backpack as carryon (this led to a laugh as Duncan has been carting around a book this whole journey called “Buddha in Your Backpack”).

We had our own car which was dirt cheap to rent (about $20 a day) and this allowed us to really explore Ubud and beyond. Andy gets a big thanks for his GTA driving skills. Driving in Ubud is better than India, but only just.

One day we had a real adventure climbing Gunung Batur, Bali’s active volcano. You have to see it to believe it. It is a double caldera, meaning one crater is inside another. The outer crater is an oval about 14 km long which you wind up to from Ubud past rice paddies giving away as you go higher to farms of oranges, coffee, and spices as the climate gets cooler and wetter. There are a few small market towns on the crest and then you drop down into the outer crater floor. Gunung Batur is renowned for it’s trekking guide organization that intimidates and harasses tourists into using their guides for astronomical prices. We had done some reading so knew that it was more than possible to climb the mountain without a guide since we were doing it in the day (most people climb at night to catch the sunrise so do need guides). We planned our route strategically avoiding the popular side of the mountain, heading down a road from Kintamani not on the map, parking near a roadside warung at the edge of the lava field -paying the woman to look after the car- and brushing off offers to guide by the few sleepy locals hanging about by saying we were just going for a walk and off we went.

We were soon lost in the mounds of hot, black lava when the trail dead ended (no sign posts here). We could see where we needed to go, but finding the trail was a different matter, when low and behold, a fellow appears who doesn’t speak any english but motions to the mountain and is obviously offering his guiding services. He was out in the middle of now where but there were a few trucks about quarrying the lava so he must have been doing this and thought we looked like a better prospect for a days pay. As his fee was substantially cheaper than the official rates, we decided to help out the local economy and took him on. Up we went in the hot late morning sun - walking on loose black lava adding to the temperature and soon arrived at the first of many steaming vents on the lower western flank. Gunung Batur last erupted in 1963, and continues with geological activity and tremors (apparently killing 2 German tourists some time ago - don’t know how), so this section of the mountain is periodically closed to trekkers. We did check the official Indonesian volcano hazard website before the trek but this didn’t allay Maddie’s fears as we stood feet away from steam pouring out of the vents, the already hot, humid air intensified by the steam. Common sense was telling Maddie that this was no place to be and it took a good deal of reassurance (and threats) to have her continue with us towards the summit. Actually, our guide required some extra encouragement too (more money always works) but I think his hesitancy was fear of being caught by the official guides further up the mountain. We did let him go before the last stretch to the summit, sending him back down the mountain since we decided to descend by the more traveled trail on the other side of the mountain (we were doing a bit of trail blazing on this side that wouldn’t be easy to get back down).

The summit ridge around the inner crater was spectacular. We had to navigate a knife like summit crater ridge trail that was about a foot or two wide, dropping down on the right side into the crater, and on the left side some 600 meters below to the outer floor. Add to this the fact that in places, our handholds were right beside a steaming vent led to some exciting moments. We summitted by a little wooden shack and had our lunch. If you go with a guided climb your guide cooks eggs for you in the vent so Duncan and I improvised with a banana and shoved it into the vent for a few minutes with a stick. We all shared a bite of the ‘volcanic snack’. Though it wasn’t bad, I don’t think steamed bananas are on our list of repeatable meals - maybe some chocolate sauce would have helped? While we ate lunch we soaked in the view of Lake Batur below with its little farming and fishing villages dotting the shore, including Trunyan, a very traditional and isolated Bali Aga village. This village is know for its cemetery as they don’t believe in cremation or burial but instead lie their dead out in bamboo cages to decompose. Apparently some tourists make their way to this village by boat to observe this scene but we passed on it.

On the way down the mountain we were slipping and sliding on the steep stretches of loose volcanic sand and were reminded of the sand dunes in the Wadi Rum - quite the hoot! We stopped at a small warung selling eggs and cold cokes and, no surprise, picked up another persistent would be guide that we had no need for now that there was a clear trail down the mountain on the east side. But Andy took a liking to this young fellow who shared his sad life story with him as we descended. He gave him a small fee for his ‘guiding’ but I think he was rather hoping we would adopt him as a good cause and fund his education. He didn’t look too appreciative of the tip. We left him on the trail side with him hoping to sell warm coke from his shoulder bag to thirsty trekkers (the tip we gave him was more than he would have made in 3 days selling coke).

We descended the rest of the way sans guide through forest and farms to the lakeside village of Toya Bungkah. We had an uninspiring lunch (but welcome cold beer) at the hotel with a pool fed by the hot springs by the lake. Andy then commandeered a ride on a scooter (for an enormous sum) to retrieve the car on the other side of the mountain while Duncan swam and Maddie and I recovered by the pool side.

On another memorable day we went on a guided mountain bike tour. A van picked us and 2 other couples up and took us to the misty mountain and lake area of Danau Bratan. After a great breakfast with a view overlooking the lake, we visited an eco-farm and here Andy and I tasted the famous coffee made in Indonesia that is creating a ‘buzz’ amongst coffee aficionados around the world (at least those with too much money and not enough common sense!). This coffee is made from coffee beans that are fed to little creatures called Civet Luwaks. They are small mammals - they are native to the jungles here - and somehow, someone made the improbable discovery that when these creatures eat the coffee beans and then poop them out, the coffee is better tasting. I kid you not. The luwaks are kept in cages and fed the beans and their coffee bean poops are dried and cleaned then roasted in the usual manner. We had a small cup for a reasonable price of $3 but to buy a 200 gm bag would have cost us $60. I think the same amount of coffee costs the equivalent of a small Tiffany diamond in New York but it was still too much for Andy and I to fork over.

We then headed down the mountain along deserted small back roads, stopping in little villages, visiting a family compound and a local wood carver, watching rice being harvested (and helping) and all along the way being welcomed by kids who would shout ‘hello, hello”, and stick out their hands for you to ‘high five’ as you zipped by. It felt like the Tour de France (or rather Bali) - so this is how Lance Armstrong feels! It was a wonderful way to see the countryside and we felt like we had had a bit of exercise even though most of it was downhill as we opted for the optional uphill bit that took us to a restaurant for a great meal at the end of the day.

In the end, we all agreed that out of the many countries we have visited, Bali was the most relaxing and we all hope to return again sometime. I guess this should be no surprise, as so many other westerners have found the Bali experience to be irresistible too - as evidenced by the number of expats settling in for the long term. It really does have the magic combination of tropical sunshine, gracious and interesting people, abundant culture, wonderful art, breathtaking landscape and food and lodging to please the most discriminating budget and luxury traveler. Too bad we can’t trade Hawaii for Bali.
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Lembongan, Indonesia

Nusa Lembongan is a little island just off of the east coast of Bali. It is only a short boat ride but seems far away from the hustle and bustle of south Bali. It is a small island that you can ride a bicycle around in a few hours (which we did one day on some rickety mountain bikes). There are a smattering of small budget hotels and some nicer villas around a few bays, and a good selection of basic restaurants. The draw here is a few apparently great surf breaks (that we can see from our villa), and snorkeling/diving. The main industry here is seaweed farming and fishing with tourism taking a backseat (there is no ATM on the island which is telling - a far cry from Kuta Beach). There are a handful of trucks but transportation is mainly by scooter or boat. We spent a very relaxing 9 days here, when most visitors only come for a day trip or at the most, 2-3 days.

Andy and Duncan have done 4 dives in 2 days (their first since their PADI course in Dahab). The first dive took to Manta point where, you guessed it, they saw massive manta rays.

Andy and Maddie and I also went on a snorkeling trip to 2 different bays. Crystal Bay had the most amazing coral and – bay equaled Koh Tao and the Red Sea by Jedha for the number of fish. They were obviously used to being fed as I didn't even have food but just rubbed my fingers together and they swarmed around me. Needless to say, this rather freaked Maddie out – who was already skittish from the boat ride where we encountered rolling surf and very large waves). Actually the traditional Balinese fishing boat we were on handled the waves amazing well with its wooden pontoons on either side.

One day we ventured out on scooters to explore the island and the nearby even tinier island, Nusa Cenigan that is connected to Nusa Lembongan by a small bridge that a scooter can cross (it took some courage to cross the bridge on the scooter, I can tell you!). Duncan had his turn at being the driver which he did very well at since he has had some opportunities to ride his friend’s dirt bikes back in Summerland. This was my chance to start getting used to the idea of him being old enough to get his L this August (how did my little boy get to be 16 already?!)

Another day we headed over by boat to Nusa Penida, the largest island of this group. This island has been largely overlooked by tourists despite having the best diving off it’s shores (but no good surf breaks so I guess it isn’t worth the trip for the Aussies). We spent the day on scooters traversing the island and only saw one other western couple. The island relies on fishing and seaweed farming with some basic farming thrown in. Andy was quite proud of himself as he was presented with a manual scooter and then had to prove himself by test driving it down the little laneway that was bustling with the morning market and an audience of local men watching with interest – talk about pressure. But he caught on quickly and off we went (without helmets – the things you do that you wouldn’t think of doing at home!). We rode through many little villages and as we passed the adults who were either working in the fields, drying seaweed, or lounging about a roadside bale and the children who were playing about shouted "hello, hello, hello" and then very often “where are you going?” We’ve learned that the Balinese often ask questions like “Where are you going?”, “Where do you stay?” or Where do you come from?” – it’s a Balinese small talk and at first can sometimes seem out of place until you understand. For example, I was going for an evening walk to explore a temple celebration I could here in the distance and the security guard at our villa said “Where are you going?” Nicely enough, but I thought – now why is he asking me that; it’s none of his business where I am going. But it was his way of small talk. I’ve thought that this question “Where are you going” was actually a very good one for our family as this journey has been, in part, an opportunity to reflect on just that – “Where are we going in life?”

One of the things we wanted to do while in Bali was to learn yoga. We skipped this experience in India (the rest of the family nixed a stay in an Ashram) so when in Rome…

We went to a couple early morning yoga sessions at the Laguna (on the grass by the beach in front of a temple – can’t get much more picturesque than that!) and wanted to continue with it. Low and behold, the villa we are in has a DVD that is by Lululemon (seems Lululemon has really made it’s mark if it is exporting DVD’s to the heart of yoga land!). And Maddie and I just happened to have our Lululemon yoga wear to complement the DVD J So, the whole family is now regularly starting the morning with a yoga session – even the kids (Duncan wouldn't want me to broadcast this though). We set up the computer on the balcony and there we all are, facing out towards the Bali Sea with volcanic Gungang Agung peaking out from it’s wrap of clouds in the distance and the sound of pounding surf to complement the meditative music on the DVD. We’ll have to see if we are able to commit to continuing with yoga once we are home but we do have good intentions. Tiggy would be proud of us as she started yoga back in the 70’s and kept it up for most of her life –even when it wasn’t fashionable!

Some random notes… Maddie and I went for a run one day along a road in the forest and came across a gathering of Balinese at the roadside, scooters all parked higglety pigglety on the side, children playing with dogs and sticks (isn’t that universal?), women huddled in little groups chatting and a raging fire being fueled by a propane tank in the middle of a collection of men. There seemed to be festive atmosphere. This was taking place in a patch of cleared land all overgrown with underbrush. Incongruously, there were little brightly coloured umbrellas randomly sprinkled about the bushes and when I looked closer, there were small piles of stones that the umbrellas were perched on. So, this was a Balinese cemetery and the propane fire was obviously a cremation. We paused at a respectful distance, nodding politely to the Balinese who smiled at us, then continued our run.

Most Balinese are named based on their birth order. First born – Wayan, Putu or Gede; second born – Made, Kadek, or Nengah; and third born Nyoman or Komang; the fourth – Ketut and then repeat for more children. We met so many Wayans and Mades…I wonder how a school teacher manages.

Thought the Balinese are Hindus, there aren’t any cows wandering the streets as in India (this privilege is reserved for the prize chickens and roosters – more on that later). Cattle are not really treated as holy, they are kept in pens and used for plowing, but are rarely eaten or milked.

A man’s cock is his prized possession in Bali – you can see groups of men squatting in a circle with their cocks out, gently and lovingly stroking them. OK, if you think I’ve resorted to porn in this blog, get your mind out of the gutter - I talking about their roosters! J Cockfighting is very popular – and is part of temple celebrations (part sport, part sacrifice, part gambling). Men keep fighting cocks as prized pets, carefully grooming and preparing them for their brief moment of glory or defeat. The winner gets to take the loosing rooster home for dinner. You can see them lined up in hoop shaped baskets outside homes everywhere.

The purpose of this whole adventure has been to be exposed to cultures, people and practices that are different from our own. We hope that individual moments like these, when woven together, will create a fabric of greater cultural understanding for Duncan and Maddie (and indeed for ourselves).

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Nusa Dua, Bali, Indonesia

Bali – this tropical island in the Indonesian archipelego is our wild card at the end of our journey. While the itinerary for the past 5 months had been loosely planned, we left this last month up for grabs. I had hoped to finish with Vietnam, the children were lobbying for a repeat visit to Thailand and Andy was remaining uncommitted – as long as it involved sunshine, beaches and relaxation. Hmmm – a quick scan of Google Earth revealed an infinite number of possibilities in South Asia, Malaysia, Indonesia, Phillipines or Polynesia. But after taking into account monsoon season (Vietnam and Thailand were crossed off), airfare costs (we had to fly out of Hong Kong July 3 – there goes Polynesia), and ease of travel and safety (that crossed off Papua New Guinea), we were left with Bali beckoning to us.

Bali had never been in our top 10 list of places to travel too, (too much like an Australian Hawaii?) but it seemed to fit the requirements for us at this time and hey, it wouldn't be too tough. After a quick review of Lonely Planet, it seemed there should be enough balance between western luxury (something we wanted a taste of at this point), culture and adventure. Though when I spoke enthusiastically of climbing Gunung Rinjani on nearby Lombok – a 3726 meter volcano, even Andy didn’t show much enthusiasm and you can imagine the kids reaction. Perhaps I mentioned it just a little too soon after spending 17 days in the Himalayas?? 

We spent the first 3 days sorting ourselves out in a villa with a private pool in Seminyak. Seminyak is billed as the quieter, more up market end of the famous stretch of Kuta beach. Kuta, we learned, is an Aussie playground – surfing, nightclubs, budget accommodation, motorcycle congested roads, souvenir shops and a long stretch of surf pounded beach unsuitable – even dangerous – for swimming. While it must have once had its charm, it did not appeal to us. But the villa was relaxing, we had a taste of some decent food and we got our bearings, deciding where we were to venture to next. While I was surfing the internet for off the beaten track budget homestays in East Bali, Andy was off on a scooter, risking his and my firstborn son’s life on the South Bali roads checking out deals in the Nusa Dua area (a stretch of 5* resorts on a peninsula decidedly lacking in any meaningful relationship to the 'real’ Bali but bountiful in generic luxury). The luxury won out when Andy scored a ‘too good to be true’ deal at the Laguna Resort and Spa. One week of spoiling wouldn’t hurt us.

The resort was absolute decadence. Wonderful rooms, the hotel grounds were impressive with swimming lagoons meandering about the entire site, and the most gracious staff we have ever encountered (even by Bali standards and that is saying a lot!). The one downside was that while we scored a deal with the rooms, the food and drink was on us and the prices were astronomical ($12 US dollars for a cocktail). So, the ironic thing was we had Sporks (combo spoons, knives, forks for use in our budget accommodations – but never needed them) and now, when we are staying in the nicest place of all, we put them to use along with some little plastic bowls we bought so we could eat breakfast in our room. This plan, along with some local Bintang beer purchased at the grocery store, and some fabulous noodle and rice dish lunches for $2 at the nearby public beach warungs (little food stands) kept us in budget. We did have a few very good meals – one at a seafood restaurant by Jimbaran Bay, a major surfing beach on the west side of the island and another at Bambu Bali, a well known Indonesian restaurant in Nusa Dua. (but to be honest, my favourite was the noodles from the warung on the beach).

OK, so what of Bali culture have we been exposed to in this – so far -  sterile introduction? One thing that is immediately noticeable is the Balinese ritual of offerings. When we arrived at the airport and needed to change some money, I glanced down to the floor by the window at what looked like a small pile of rubbish – some type of leaf, rice, a ritz cracker and a few flowers all tossed together. What a funny place to throw your garbage, I thought. But that’s weird, as I glanced around there were more of these things, seemingly randomly placed on the floor about the airport. On closer inspection, they turned out to be little woven palm leaf baskets, with carefully arranged rice, flowers, and other seemingly odd bits such as ritz crackers, wrapped candies, and even a cigarette. Some had an incense stick burning in them as well. I later learned that these are offerings to the gods and are an important everyday ritual for the Balinese. These offerings are placed outside a home or business everyday to appease the gods. They are absolutely everywhere – store fronts, sidewalks, roadways, on special decorative holders at entrances to houses, shrines, temples, checkout stands, boats, and dashboards. You can see women on the street weaving the little baskets and putting the ‘ingredients’ together and selling them (busy Balinese don’t always have the time now to make their own). And, since the offerings are presented to the gods everyday (often several times a day), they are ‘disposable’ and mostly biodegradable so you see piles of used offerings everywhere. Apparently once the offering is presented to the god it is now taken, so to speak, so if you step on one on the sidewalk, or run over it on your scooter it is supposed to be OK and this is a relief as it is sometimes difficult to avoid them! It seems to be the local dogs that benefit most from the edible portions of the offerings (that is, other than the intended god) and I suppose this contributes to a win-win situation as there is less garbage remaining.

Our next stop is Nusa Lembongan Island. 
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Munnar, Kerala, India

We are now in Munnar, after a hair raising 4 hour taxi ride

along steep winding roads into the Western Ghats (think Cairo but with blind

hairpin turns). Of course, Maddie has now become sick with a high fever, and

Duncan has still not recovered. We spent our first 3 days in a home stay

called Rose Gardens with a wonderful family (Tomy, Rajee, and three delightful

boys Delipe, Depo and Depak). They run a nursery with an amazing array of

spices, fruits and flowers and the eldest son, Delipe, the teenager, took us on

a tour of the garden explaining to us about vanilla, pepper, cardamom, nutmeg,

tapioca, among others (I'm sure we wouldn't have had a better tour in

Zanzibar). The family grows and
roasts their own coffee, harvests all the spices, makes their own strawberry
jam, and chocolate sauce (for the ice cream). Delipe is leaving after the school holidays to enter marine engineering -
his parents must be very proud.

The other 2 boys are charming as well (and the little one just a little

bit naughty). Rajee has provided us with gourmet home-style Keralan cooking,

which has been a wonderful treat. Today we went on a hike with Tomy around a

tea estate. See the pictures - they are worth a thousand words. The manicured

verdant hills are an incredible sight and they go on for miles and miles. And

no one else was there except the plantation workers who were celebrating Easter

Sunday - kids frolicking in the waterfall and others playing a game of cricket.

Tomy has connections so that he is allowed to take visitors onto the estate -

otherwise we wouldn't have been allowed. What a treat.

It's been unfortunate that the kids have both been sick during

our stay, as it would have been fun to see them interact with the children. We

have found it to be a very different experience staying with a family - we had

our privacy in a separate suite, but had many opportunities to talk and learn

about each other. We come away having a better sense of family life in Munnar

than we would have otherwise. They have been very gracious hosts.
We have had
to postpone our onward travel plans due to the kids illness so are moving into

a larger separate cottage nearby (Ambady Estate) to spend a few days

recovering (sadly, the room at Rose Garden was already booked so we couldn't extend our stay). We also want to stay on so the kids can see Munnar when they are well enough. That is the advantage of
having flexible travel plans! The cottage is on a Cardamom Estate and the owner
is a family physician who can facilitate Duncan being seen at the local

hospital tomorrow if we think it is necessary.

There must be a god. As an agnostic, I say this for a few

particular reasons. First, there is no humanly way all of Kerala hasn't

succumbed in traffic fatalities unless their prayers have been answered. The

Keralan's obviously believe this. It is evident after one glance at the

transport. Most auto rickshaws, cars, trucks and buses have a message of faith

decaled to the windshield. 'Lord Jesus', 'God bless' and 'Hail Mary'

distinguishes the Christians from the Hindus who display 'Shiva', 'Ganesh' and

'Vishnu'. Even I have found myself closing my eyes, hanging on, and calling to

a higher being "lord help us" as we careened around a blind corner, passing a

gas tanker truck with an oncoming bus in our path and a tuk tuk passing him!

Along with the messaging, the attention to artwork puts the rest of us all to

shame. The trucks especially are a dazzling kaleidoscope of color and design.

Second, the landscape is heavenly - this is declared by the Keralan's to be

'Gods Own Country' and it would be hard to argue. Lastly, at night if you step

out the door of our villa onto the verge of the Indian jungle, listening to the

cacophony of exotic sounds - some from birds, crickets and monkeys (no roars

from tigers given their endangered status in the jungles here) you see the

breathtaking sight of thousands of twinkling lights flitting about the dark

jungle. No, not Christmas lights strung in the trees but magical fireflies! Our

only other experience with fireflies was in Tuscany and there we saw only

several at a time hovering above the fields - and then we were delighted,

chasing after them and trying to capture them in glasses. Now there are so many

you are content just to stand back in awe and appreciation of something so

beautiful and full of fantasy.

Munnar itself if a wonderful example of a small hill station

town. To be sure, it is on the grubby side, but it is small enough to have

charm as well and with a backdrop of high hills and manicured tea plantations

it is very picturesque. If you think vineyard country views are beautiful, you

haven't seen tea plantations! Andy and I ventured on the local bus into town

one day. This was our first bus ride in India and it was just as you would

imagine. Loud Indian music blaring, a religious item dangling violently on the

rear view mirror - in this case a cross (presumably the driver's faith of

choice), the requisite poster of a god (a benevolent looking Jesus) with much

adornment with bright coloured bobbles, careening around corners with the

hillside dropping away into the lush tea plantations from a dizzying height and

colouful local people climbing on to head into the market - wow (I can say this because we only had to travel

12 km, we had a seat and there were no chickens). As it was a Saturday, the

election was nearing, and it was Easter weekend, the town was buzzing with a

festive atmosphere. There were many stalls with fresh flowers, especially

jasmine, threaded onto strings for women's hair or as lays to adorn everything

else. The produce market was full of fresh fruits and vegetables and sellers

inviting us to take our picture with them (which we will send to Tomy to pass

on as soon as we have a chance).

There were only a few other westerners about and we felt very welcomed

as tourists.

Our stay at Ambady Estate was relaxing. The villas are up

market by Munnar standards and were a welcome retreat. The kids gradually

recovered, we had down time and spent a few evenings watching bad movies on HBO

and generally relaxed. Andy and I hiked up through the Cardamom estate to the

hills above one day which gave us some exercise, but otherwise we have been

eating too much and exercising too little. We travel tomorrow to Kochi to pick

up our luggage surf the internet and decide where we are going after our

Keralan houseboat experience.
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Kuala Lumpur, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

We spent 3 days in Kuala Lumpur as a stop over on the way to Bali. Wow, KL is a bright, clean, organized uber modern city. It definitely is not 3rd world, and after spending the last 2 months in India and Nepal, it was a startling change. We stayed at the Traders hotel (remarkable hotel with outstanding attention to service) - with views of the truly magnificent Petronas Twin Towers (the highest twin towers in the world) out our window. KL is an international shopping mecca and there were more mega malls to see than even Maddie could cover in 3 days. I have to admit we did little else than take advantage of the fantastic hotel services (I've never seen a better hotel buffet in all my life), shop, and venture out to the street market (cheap food, fake goods) and restaurants for dinner. I guess we've had enough of cultural immersion for the time being.
It's interesting - KL is mostly muslim and it was very refreshing to see the mix of dress. In the other muslim countries we have been in the woman were mostly covered in an abaya/burqua (or very modestly dressed equivalent) and head scarf (with or without veil). KL seemed to be an example of 'anything goes'. Women could be seen in a full black abaya with veil to modern dress but with a pretty scarf to short shorts and tank top. There were enough westerners about that we did not feel out of place, and Maddie and I didn't feel the need to cover our heads with a scarf to fit in, like we did in Egypt and Oman. 
Next stop, Bali. 


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Kathmandu, Nepal

After the trek, we spent the next few days recovering from our adventure - back to the Kathmandu Guest House, but this time in a well deserved luxury room (its all relative). First on the agenda -warm showers, laundry, a much needed change in underwear (as Lani said when I spoke of getting used to only changing underwear every 3 days on the trek "3 days? thats when it's time to put them inside out for another 3 days!") and lovely lattes at the internet cafe (full of macs btw). 
We spent some time exploring more of Kathmandu - it's colour, people and temples. When we first arrived we were impressed with how much easier Nepal is on the eye than India. Less traffic, less garbage, less abject poverty. Now that we have just spent time in the relatively wealthy (by most rural standards) area of the Khumbu, Kathmandu seemed to reveal its other side, which means while it certainly is better in many respects than India, its just a matter of degree. A top tourist attraction in Kathmandu is Durbur Square. This ancient square (dating back to the 1600's holds numerous temples and palaces. It has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage site and non to soon - the buildings are suffering from major neglect. But was most fascinating was the street life in and around the square (see pics). 
We had a wonderful dinner with Kumar and his family. He has been able to send his 2 teenage children to very good schools in Kathmandu and he is rightly proud of this (coming himself from a little village in the Himalayan foothills with little education). An example of Nepalese success. 
 We were sent off on the next leg of our journey with the traditional Tibetan blessing of the offering of a Katha scarf. Kuala Lumpur is next on the agenda. 
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Everest Region, Himalayan Region, Nepal

What a relief to be back in Kathmandu after an adventurous 17 days in the Solo-Khumbu region of the Nepal Himalayas. One doesn't realize just how we take for granted basic life amenities such as... oxygen! 18 years ago, Kumar was our guide - he was then a young 22 year old with a new wife and little baby. We had lost touch with him but Andy found him on the internet (Google can be a wonderful tool!) and he now owns his own company. As he doesn't guide himself anymore, our team consisted of Indra, our guide, Ganesh, our assistant guide, and Kulam and Tika, our happy porters.

There has been some change in the Khumbu since our last trek. Most noticeably the tea houses are larger, the food they serve is more western, the sleeping facilities have improved, there is solar powered electricity, and even access to a hot shower in many places. 18 years ago, we opted to camp but eat in the teahouses. Back then the tea houses were very rudimentary - you were usually staying in a family home, eating in the kitchen, watching the woman cook your dal bhat over a yak dung fueled stove with no chimney, and if you stayed in the tea house rather than camp, there was a communal sleeping area where you snuggled up amongst the smoke and strangers for the night. Out houses were the norm - some good, others atrocious. I remember there were a smattering of attempts at western indoor plumbing which usually turned out to be more disgusting than the outhouses.

Evidence of modernization is visible in other ways. Back then, the Sherpa people wore mostly traditional clothing. Now, there is both - some continue to wear traditional dress (mostly these are women), and others are wearing western clothing. Noticeably, with the advent of cheap knock-off outdoor gear, you can see an old woman wearing her traditional dress with a down North Face jacket over top, talking on her cellphone while herding her yaks.
There are a few small scale micro hydro projects that have brought electricity to several of the larger villages, and phone service is also available intermittently. Food in the tea houses now consists of more western choices such as pizza, popcorn, omlette, and the ever popular rara noodle soup. This sounds like a definite improvement over the dal bhat of yesterday but after 17 days even this menu was losing it's appeal.

All this improvement of course, has taken place in a region that is a 5 day walk from the closest road. Transportation in the Solo-Khumbu is by trail, from village to village. The chief method of moving goods is by porter, yak, or zopki (a smaller, sterile cross between a yak and a cow). The loads the porters carry are enormous. Everything, from San Miguel beer (who would want to drink at altitude is beyond me but someone must be imbibing as there was a never ending parade of porters carrying cases of beer up the trail) to building materials (plywood, corrugated tin roofing etc) and every other consumable required for living.
Our days consisted of rising at 6:30 - 7:00 am, breakfast, packing up and giving our bags to the porters while we carried our daypacks, and hitting the trail for anywhere from 5-7 hours, a rest before dinner, maybe a game of Cheat or Chess, then early to bed at 8 pm, exhausted. Some days were limited because one shouldn't climb more than 300 - 500 meters in a day to allow for acclimatization. Altitude sickness, in the form of HAPE (high altitude pulmonary edema) and HACE (high altitude cerebral edema) is an ever present risk for anyone climbing above 3000 meters. We took Diamox prophylactically and other than the occasional headache remained well.
The first leg of our trek took us up the Khumbu valley, eventually reaching Kalla Pattar (at --- meters) where we were able to gaze across at the always mesmerizing Sagarmatha (Everest) and down on Everest Base Camp. Many people have asked if we actually went into base camp. We intended to, if Bernd had still been climbing Everest. But since his injury in the ice fall left him with broken ribs and bronchitis, necessitating his early return home, we had no real reason to go there. EBC is about 3 hours from Gorap Shep (the nearest 'village') and is a relatively easy day trip. But surprisingly enough, you don't see Everest from EBC. Furthermore, the climbers at EBC aren't really interested in 'looky - loo' trekkers wandering around their camp. They are on a mission that requires enormous focus so don't really have the time for idle chit chat with strangers, and they also are afraid that visitors might bring in a bug of some sort - and staying healthy is the name of the game (some teams even put up signs 'no visitors please'). I liken it to having interested visitors wander into an emergency department to 'just have a look' - they wouldn't be welcome. So, we left EBC to the serious climbers and instead actually climbed nearby Kalla Pattar to look down upon the camp and have great views of Everest too. Andy, of course, has always had a dream of climbing Everest and was understandingly jealous (in a good way), of Bernd's attempt. We all reread 'Into Thin Air' on our journey up (this book describes the 1996 tragedy that killed 11 climbers - if you haven't had a chance to read it, do - even if you aren't interested in mountaineering it is an amazing story tragedy and survival).
At this point in the trek, my oxygen saturation was in the mid 70's. (Terry lent Andy his little O2 Sat monitor for our trip), and I was 'sucking air'. At this altitude, with this O2 sat level, every uphill step required great effort. Needless to say I was feeling pretty crappy - but not really exhibiting any HAPE symptoms. After a sleepless night in Lobuche at 4950 m (still a 's--t hole of a place) we decided to descend back down to Pangboche at 3950 m to see how I felt. We had been planning to climb the Cho La pass but the weather was unstable and there had been fresh snow, making the conditions poor. We had also had snow on our way up - in fact in Pangboche this was the first time in the locals memory that they had ever had snow in May.
Back in Pangboche, we had a rest day. We spent some time collecting garbage along the village trail in an effort to contribute positively to the local environment. Garbage is a problem throughout the region - you've probably heard horror stories of the garbage at EBC. Happily, there are a variety of local and international organizations working towards cleaning up the trails and for the most part, they are pretty clean but there are exceptions. In particular, the porters who do not live in the Khumbu region so have no ownership, and who probably lack environmental awareness anyways, leave a profusion of litter along the trail. We were in the midst of our garbage collection, receiving the occasional approving nod from villagers, when we were stopped and interviewed by a Brazilian TV crew for a travel show (if you frequent Brazilian cable shows, look for our debut in the fall!).

Later that day, we had a stark reminder of the dangers of altitude sickness. We had already seen a helicopter pick up a corpse from Pangboche. The Nepali had been acting as a liaison officer for a group climbing Island Peak (Andy and I climbed Island Peak 18 years ago). Liaison officers don't usually climb the mountain so he was probably at base camp at 5000 m. Apparently pride, fear of telling anyone he was feeling unwell, testosterone, and perhaps lack of awareness led to his death - sad as it should have been totally preventable. In the afternoon, a US trekking group arrived at our tea house informing us they had picked up a porter on the trail who was suffering from HAPE. He was a young fellow, lived below Lukla so was not acclimatized, but had rushed up to EBC in 1 day. Apparently this happens towards the end of the Everest climbing season as there are always porter jobs available to help transport all the teams gear back down the mountain. Some of the trekkers carried him as far as the tea house, and then Andy took over and treated him with all the emergency meds we had available (dexamethasone, seravent, diamox, nifedipine). His oxygen sat was 68% with a HR of 140, SOB and vomiting. The group pooled together to rent a horse to take him down the mountain (this cost $200 US - money that he definitely would not have had). Later we found out that he made it down and was very grateful for the care he received. Had we not been there and willing to help, he quite possibly would have died. Medical care, while far superior to most rural regions in Nepal thanks the the Hillary Foundation, is still very basic and requires traveling long distances to access. There is volunteer medical post in Pheriche, a nearby village but this was closed for the season so the nearest medical clinic was -- kms and 8 hours away in Kunde.
Our next leg took us up the Gokyo valley and over the Renjo La pass (5400 m) into the Thame valley, and back down to Namche Bazzar (the central village of the region). Climbing the pass was a definite accomplishment, and something that was high on Andy's list. I wasn't so sure (having had such a low oxygen sat earlier on at this elevation), but we challenged ourselves, sucked in the thin air, and made it over. The Thame valley is less visited and different from the other 2 more popular valleys so it was a great way to end the trek. As we headed down into thicker air and greater civilization, we enjoyed the final leg out to Lukla even more that we did at the start as the lush vegetation was such a contrast to the barren alpine environment.
Lukla is the entry point to the Solo-Khumbu region and the little STAL (short takeoff and landing) airport is infamous. Picture flying in through the steep valley, heading straight for a mountain. Just as you think you are facing certain death, a little runway appears whose approach hangs just above a deep abyss and is then inclined up the mountain side, allowing the little 16-20 seater twin otter type planes to quickly decelerate to an abrupt stop meters before the end of the runway. Due to its precarious position, flights are frequently canceled - sometimes for days, resulting in a backlog of weary climbers and trekkers who, having either accomplished their goals or at least attempted them, are now anxious to get out of the dam mountains and back to civilization.

When we arrived the weather had not been cooperating and there was a 2 day backlog of people wandering aimlessly about the muddy little village, waiting impatiently for their turn on the internet (at 'Starbucks'), and anxiously hoping to get out the next day. We mentally prepared ourselves for a delay of our own flight the next day (Indra our guide had once been delayed for 8 days in poor weather). The only options to waiting for a flight is to walk for 6 days out to Jiri, or rent a helicopter for the tune of $3500 dollars - neither of which was very appealing. Fortunately, the next day dawned bright and clear and we were optimistic. In the end, we just barely got out on the last plane after a 4 hour delay, with the clouds rolling in over the mountain tops into the valley. Maddie was truly frightened after the flight in so I had given her an Ativan for the departing flight - I'm glad I did as the little plane bounced around over the steep valleys on its way to Kathmandu so that we all felt we were going to drop out of the sky at any moment. Lukla has had a few famous crashes claiming more than a few lives, including the wife and a child of Sir Edmond Hilary years ago.

We are now happily settled back into the Kathmandu Guest House, having our clothes washed, getting our fill of hot water and good food, and planning our next chapter in our travels - Indonesia, particularly Bali and Lombok for some well deserved pampering. I should say that we are very proud of Duncan and Maddie. Their attitude on the trek was amazing. Considering how often kids this age can complain (and believe me Maddie and Duncan can complain and whine with the best of them) they took the tough physical challenge and stark living conditions in stride, usually fairing better than me (the weakest link). Notably, they overcame their distaste for squat toilets and even reveled in the simple beauty of a clean outhouse beside the yaks, complete with a crystal clear view of snow covered mountain peaks in the distance. Overall it was an amazing adventure that we are so fortunate to have been able to share with the kids - hopefully they will return one day (may be in 18 years), just as we did and share the beauty of this region with their own families.
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