Modern Nomadic Life

Final Baekdu Daegan Photos

2011-10-06T00:59:00.000-07:00

We finished hiking the portion of the Baekdu Daegan in South Korea on Wednesday October 5th. It feels like an accomplishment to have completed it, but because the ridge as a geological feature continues on northward to its namesake, Baekdusan Mountain, in North Korea, it feels as if there is unfinished business. But, until North Korea opens its doors to the world, and the National Park Service in the South opens the closures that we didn't hike, we consider this project complete.

The final stretch of the trail takes the hiker through what we feel is South Korea's scenic and geologic jewel, Seoraksan National Park. The ridges and valleys are suddenly steep, jagged and dramatic. Granite spires tower above gushing waterfalls and deep valleys. Its a magical place, and we luckily timed our walking perfectly with the arrival of the peak autumn foliage. We also had the chance to visit the Bongjeongam hermitage, at the head of another gorgeous deep, stream-cut granite valley, set in one of the most beautiful alpine environments anywhere in Korea's mountains.

Here are some photos from the last section

At the moment, we're in Incheon visiting with Liz's family, eating and relaxing after a solid push of nineteen days of hiking. While we're here, we plan to do some rock climbing on a peak called Insubong in a national park just north of Seoul. The route is supposedly moderate, having been established by Yvon Chouinard in the 1960's. We'll see how it goes.

Back in Seattle on the 14th of October.

We just started - and we're almost there!

2011-09-27T02:43:00.001-07:00

After rough start in the rain, the weather cleared and we've had a beautiful stretch of perfect fall hiking. We were so enthusiatic about nearing the end and the weather that we hiked for 11 days in a row. Our bodies finally told us we needed to take a break, which brings us to the quaint ski town of Hwoeingye, part of Pyeongchang county - a candidate city for the 2018 winter Olympics. We splurged and are spending two whole nights in a wonderful (as in not shady love motel) clean inn with a kitchenette. This morning involved sleeping as late as we wanted after an evening spent watching bad movies on tv and not doing any laundry or logistics planning!

We've figured out we have about four or five days of acutal hiking left, with a couple of days needed to get around the various closures in the national parks. It's a weird feeling that we are actually nearing the end. This ridge holds suchs a huge place in mind my and continues to draw me back into Korean culture, the language and the food. I can easily see how our friend Roger Shepherd became so drawn into the Great Ridge and all of the subsidiary ridges. Something about not just Korea, but the trail itself pulls and continues to pull harder the more you explore it.

There are so many things to describe about the past couple of weeks. A lot of the hiking has been in fairly remote areas, the northern part of the trail being higher and further away from habitation. We have encountered larger farms - especially cabbage farms, some so large we've seen backhoes being employed to till the poor soil up here - and a lot more industrial activity such as logging, a cement factory, numerous mines, a rock quarry, wind farms and a sprawling ranch that has converted the landscape into something more reminiscent of Scotland or Wales. It gets the mind going alot about the effect of economic growth, human population growth and the growth of consumerism has on the landscape. In a country that is still so closely connected to the landscape - we frequently meet foragers and see the effects of selective gathering on the understory of the forest - it is an interesting contrast on older and newer ways in which humans interact with and affect the landscape. It's also interesting to see how that plays out in another culture - to see their constant back and forth between conservation and economic growth - especially in a country so rapidly growing and moderninzing as Korea.

There is lots to say, especially about all the amazing people we have met over the past week, but I think I will save that for later, perhaps once we are back in Seoul. For now I will leave you with some pictures - for those of you not on Facebook. Enjoy.

Moving Onward - Taebaeksan to Odesan

2011-09-27T02:02:00.000-07:00

Its been eleven days since we left sedentary life at Hwabang Pass just north of Taebaeksan. After four days of rain, we recovered and dried out in the beautifully rugged Mureung Valley. Descending off the ridge from 1100 meters to essentially sea level wasn't ideal as far as the hiking goes, but it was necessary from a psychological perspective. Getting fully dry after a rain event usually requires going inside. It simply resets things.

The Mureung Valley from Samhwasa Temple

From Baekdudaegan - Taebaeksan to Odesan

Returning to Mureung early in the morning, the sky promising a mostly sunny outlook, and with the sweat, dust and stick of the previous days having been washed away, we settled back into our routine. Samhwasa temple provided a wonderfully peaceful centerpiece around which the morning developed in the valley. We meandered around in the quiet calm, gazing up at the steep granite walls and the lush foliage of the valley. The trail back up to the ridge was steep and unrelenting, but not after offering up some raging waterfalls and bubbling granite bedrock bottom stream beds. It was a week day, but it remains a mystery why these little valley gems remain so desolate.

Back on the ridge, the weather provided day after day of blue skies and cool breezes. In stark contrast to the first portion of our hike on the Baekdu Daegan in 2008, this season has been delightfully cool. We don synthetic puffy jackets every morning and eve at camp. It has not, however, been what a New Englander raised in the definition of Autumn would call "crisp". Every morning's a damp one; our camps ensconsed in fog flowing through the passes, dew dripping off the trees and covering the rain fly on the tent. Yet I'll take cool and damp over hot and sticky any day of the week and twice on Sunday. So, life on the trail has been great. As any hiker worth his weight in oatmeal knows, enjoyment is a delicate mixture of weather, companions, and attitude. Right now we seem to have above average numbers in all three categories.

Here's a slideshow of some of the photos.

One of the great joys of our journey along the Baekdu Daegan has been the opportunity to discover a country, her people and their culture through the backdoor, without the "go see this and do that" prodding of a guidebook. As we've written here before, it is not merely the mile after mile of footpath through the woods, the repeated roller coaster ups and downs of the topography, or the scenery that make the Baekdu Daegan what it has become for us. It is in the daily interactions and encounters with people we meet on the trail, in the towns and villages along the way and the temples, villages, streams and other little bits and pieces that combine in a mosaic to create a whole experience. These folks greet us in many ways; they're helpful, curious, inquisitive, excited, gracious. Hiking clubs share food on mountain tops, day hikers help with logistics, restaurant proprietors serve up smiles to accompany their dishes.

One college student we met happened to be the only other backpacker -- as opposed to day hiking -- that we've seen in almost three months on this trail. He completed hiking the Baekdu Daegan from south to north with his team of five in 50 days. That's moving. Then, while the rest of his team climbed into the van and sped off to civilization, he turned around and started walking back along the trail, north to south. We met him 10 days into his southern journey. Unless someone passes him (it won't be us), he'll be the first person to walk the Baekdu Daegan continuously in both directions. And then he's going to write a book about it. The word dedication comes to mind.

Just yesterday, two Vestas engineers picked us up along side the road. We'd been walking down from the ridge after completing a section of the trail that runs through a 98 megawatt wind farm. Vestas is a Danish-owned wind turbine manufacturer. These guys work in the wind farm everyday and we were likely the only people they'd ever seen walking on this road since the introduction of the automobile to Korea. It really wasn't a great road to walk. We swapped stories and tried to figure each other out. They offered to drive us a ways out of town to get our bags, then back to town, dropping us at a nice hotel. The driver said he'd done it because someone had taken care of him when he was traveling in Seattle. We'll certainly pay it forward and return the favor, keep the wheel spinning.

This morning we laid out the remaining maps, numbers 20 through 24 in the set, and plotted out the remainder of the trail, working the logistics. At present count, there are 5-6 days of hiking left, the final number dependent on our ability to rise to the occasion of three consecutive 12-mile days. Unfortunately, there are a number of trail closures along the way around which we'll be required to come down off the trail, transit, then climb back up to the ridge and continue. This is somewhat annoying but part of the challenge. Beyond the closure issue, there is excitement and that somewhat saddening end-of-vacation feeling starting to creep in that typically accompanies the completion of something. For now, its determination and resolve to enjoy and soak in the last stretch of this great cultural journey.

Back on the Baekdudaegan

2011-09-20T05:06:00.000-07:00

After a rather trying flight in which Liz discovered that airplane food leads to airsickness, we arrived in Korea to the smiling face of Liz's Incheon emo. There is a new bridge that seems to span about 20 miles of ocean between the airport and our aunt's house cutting the drive time between the airport and her house more than in half. You would understand what a joyous discovery this was if you ever spent more than five minutes in the van with our aunt driving. We went straight to bed, got up early the next day, did a little grocery shopping, had a fun tour of Korea's back roads and in less than 24 hours of arriving in Korea we were back on the trail.

Oddly - it's three years later, but it's like we never stepped off the trail. No more than one hundred yards after leaving the road, an overwhelming sensation of familiarity set in. The feeling of walking along a ridge with the terrain dropping off to either side of the narrow footpath at your feet becomes engrained while walking the Baekdudaegan. We only hiked a couple of hours that day, but everything felt like a familiar rhythm - the flora, the trail, the steady up then back down, looking for a campsite, and looking for water.

We fell asleep to cool breezes and the sound of locusts (and this crazy ground bird that haunts us at night). We awoke the next morning to dense fog. The next four days of hiking are easily described as such: It rained. We hiked up. We hiked down. We put our tent up in the rain and hid. We took our tent down in the rain and hiked some more.

Luckily we came down from the ridge and it stopped raining, although looking up at the ridge from town we think it might still be raining up there! Hot showers and hot Korean meals never felt so good.

Back in the saddle! We'll post pictures next time we're back in town!

A New Adventure Begins

2010-02-01T19:11:00.000-08:00

In a new chapter in our travels, I have launched Great Path Adventures - a hiking company that will take people to Korea to hike a distilled version of our hiking trip last fall. The Journey begins this October with an eleven day trip through Jirisan and Songnisan National Parks. Please check out the website and pass it along to any friends you think might be interested!

www.greatpathadventures.com

Back to Work!

2009-11-30T12:35:00.000-08:00

Well this post is long overdue - if anyone out there is still reading this blog!

I promised I would write more, and I didn't. And now we are home and "done" travelling and there is nothing left to write about :). But because of my neurotic nature, things must have definitive endings for me. I need to be able to cross things off a list, to say, "that is complete." So it goes for this blog - which coincidentally has been on my to-do list as "post on blog" for a few months now. We've both been back in the country for several months now. I got to extend my travels to include the Western US and Chris spent another summer season guiding people up Mt. Rainier. We both went back to "work" in September, giving us a full three months to realize:

We are ready to go travelling again.

Well, we may be ready, but our pocketbook is not. So we will again save and scheme - Japan, Mongolia and Greenland are all places that frequently come up. And we will start another blog and keep you all posted when (because it is obviously inevitable) we take off again! Until that time I leave you with the picture on my desk top reminding me of free-er times and say

THE END

Rhode Island Clam Chowder

2009-07-25T09:59:00.000-07:00

Chris and I met up in Hartford for his brother Nicholas’s wedding a few weeks ago. As I haven’t been back to Seattle yet, I’m calling this all part of “my” trip. And since I’m still traveling I can cook up ridiculous ideas like, “Let’s drive to the Rhode Island coast to try clear clam chowder.”

Apparently the idea didn’t seem too ridiculous, and that is how we found ourselves stuck in traffic at a dead standstill on State Hiway 4 joining what appeared to be all of Rhode Island and possibly part of Massachusetts in trying to get to any piece of land that touched the Atlantic Ocean. Our goal had been to drive to Point Judith, have a look around and then enjoy lunch at Champlins, a seafood restaurant on the water I had heard about on The Splendid Table. Now we were wondering if we were going to get Nicholas back to Quidnessett in time to get married. Note to self: don’t take groom on excursions on his wedding day, especially when Friday afternoon traffic and a beach could be involved.

Traffic cleared up enough that we figured we could have lunch at Champlins. It was one of those rough-around-the-edges-but-with-a-sweet-deck-overlooking-the-water joint a la Ivars of Seattle. All this effort was to try their clear clam chowder. Think the ocean, only tasty, in a clear broth chock full of clams and potatoes. They also had scallops, gigantic and perfectly cooked (rare and still sticky in the middle) and fried clam strips, served on a hoagie. This was something new to me-the " roll". Like a hotdog, only waaaay better. The best roll I had was a lobster roll at the Lobster Landing near Nicholas's house in Clinton, CT. Oh 1/4 lb of lemony, buttery peeled lobstery goodness.

Chris grew up in storybook New England – dense green forest, quaint main streets with a town green, old colonial houses and lots of streams and hollows and mountains that people will plan their year’s vacation to visit – and it was all in his backyard. Chris and Nicholas took an afternoon to drive me and a friend from California around to all their old childhood haunts. I think having out of towners marvel at all this gave them a real sense what a magical place the two of them grew up in. Still being in travel mode has me marveling at the diversity of cultures, language, climates, geography and cuisines all within the borders of the US. Our New England trip again reinforced my belief that there are so many diverse cultures and landscapes to experience without having to leave the US. I'm really looking forward to seeing what this new perspective opens up in Washington state. I'm also looking forward my road trip back to Seattle taking me through the South, Southwest and the Rockies. I'll keep ya'll posted on food, sights and experiences all the way back to Seattle.

Omaha

2009-07-06T20:51:00.000-07:00

One of the things Chris and I frequently remarked on while we were travelling, especially when in New Zealand, is that we wondered how many of these cool funky little towns and off-the-beaten-path parks and hikes were in our own backyard. How many of them do we miss because we were so busy travelling around to "bigger and better" places in the US and around the world? The oft repeated question made us soon resolve to take our "traveller's eyes" back to Washington and try to experience our own home turf the way tourists like us experience the Puget Sound. And by like us I do no mean the ones who flock to the Space Needle and buy T-shirts with the skyline emblazoned on it down at the shops on the waterfront. We've even toyed with the idea of limiting ourselves to Washington and perhaps southern B.C. for a year. A move in part necessitated by our now decimated pocketbook and perhaps a desire to balance our monstrous flying footprint this year. But it is also a challenge to really discover the gems of Washington, many of which we are well aware of but never make the time to experience.

So I'm trying out my new "traveller's eyes" on Omaha, Nebraska. My hometown was another casualty of my desire to always go someplace "bigger and better." I came home my first summer after college, but after that I was always going someplace else. Even holidays succumbed. More than once I had a Thanksgiving meal in Omaha and then would drive overnight for a weekend sailing regatta in Chicago. Now distance and the cost of a flight means I see Omaha once, maybe twice a year. And now, every time I go home, I find myself thinking, "This is a pretty cool place." So driven by a desire to spend more time with my parents and to reacquaint myself with my hometown, I've chosen to spend a month here before I work my way back to Seattle.

I have to say I have been blown away by what I have experienced so far. I beginning to gain an appreciation for the sense of place I have here. And for just how much this flat, hot and at times oppressively humid bit of prairie is such an engrained part of me. I think no matter how long I live in the Northwest, there is always going to be a part of me that sees an open expanse of cornfield, and the slow green undulation of the land along the Missouri and will breathe a long sigh of, "I'm home." It's the part that has an endless fascination with grass. The part that prefers grasslands and deciduous trees (especially cottonwoods), small towns and grain elevators, to dense evergreen forests and clear mountain streams. Don't get me wrong, there is another vocal part of me that is pretty ticked I haven't been skiing for 368 days, but for now that part will just have to let the Nebraska part have her due.

I have lots of "travel thoughts" I would like to post, but for now, in interest of keeping this post a reasonable length, I will save them for another time. Omaha, a travel destination. Who knew?

Back in Korea

2009-06-14T04:15:00.000-07:00

It was a strange feeling saying goodbye to Chris in the Bangkok airport. After nine months of being together everyday 24/7, we thought we would be be ready for a break from each other. But I had gotten used to having someone there to turn to comment on whatever strange sight or amazing view I happened to see that day. Now I would be travelling around with my mom and two of her sisters. And while Korea is starting to feel like a second home, everything here is still strange enough that I miss having someone to turn to and say, "Seriously is every stranger here going to ask me why I'm not married?!?"

I had a great time hiking in Korea and people we met in other places frequently commented on that portion of our trip saying that is sounded like a lot of fun but daunting, or that they had never considered going to Korea but were really intrigued by the hiking possibilities. In response to that interest, I've decided to start a trekking company that will lead a two-week hiking trip in Korea in the fall of each year. I chose to end my trip by spending three weeks in Korea in order to do some research and take care of logistics. So my mom, two of her older sisters and I set off on a tour or Korea revisiting many of the places we hiked through last fall.

In some ways ending the trip in Korea is a good slow easing back into the "regular" world. The hyper-consumer capital Seoul feels just foreign enough that I still feel like I'm travelling, but at the same time eases me (well throws me off the deep end) back into a world of modern conveniences and capitalism.

So here is my three week trip in Korea, summed up in pictures - because that's more fun than reading through a long blog post!

Kongbiji: Oddly I had been daydreaming about eating this for almost two months while hiking in Nepal. It is a stew made from ground soybeans. You add a healthy dose of soy sauce usually mixed with chili pepper, sesame seeds and green scallions and enjoy this bubbly boiling dish. All the other dishes on the table are panchan, or side dishes. They are lovely and fresh in June when there are lots of random vegetables - my mom vaguely calls them edible vegetables, the only way she can think to translate the word namul - that have come into season

Incheon emo (so named because she lives in Incheon) has a garden on the edge of the city. We went one day to help her weed and pick some greens. She thanked us by cooking up a storm of bacon to eat with the fresh greens we picked.

Mom demonstrates how to put a lettuce wrap together: lettuce, sukkat (a chrysanthemum relative), sauce and the bacon. To eat: shove it all in your mouth.

Recycling in Seoul is done indirectly. Someone pays enough for cardboard, so this old woman pushes her cart around picking it up off the street where people leave it outside their house or business. She will then take it to the recycling center in effect to receive her pay for picking up trash.

My aunt runs a pojang macha - basically a food stand . Each day she goes to a distributor where she picks up all the food she will sell - corn, dumplings, steamed bread and pigs feet. Really until travelling this much I didn't realize so many parts of an animal could be eaten, let alone taste, well, good. We didn't hang around for the finished product, but after the meat cooks for several hours it practically falls off the bone, which is a good thing as I'm not sure anyone would eat it other wise. It's long day of hard work. We left the house at 8 am and returned around 11:30 that night.

The Incheon Port fish market. This was the start of our road trip. We bought several pounds of fish and miscellaneous seafood for a special dinner at another aunt's house that night and to take with us. That fish would make up a spicy seafood soup that was breakfast, lunch and dinner for about the next four days. Wonderful.

All the fish are kept in tanks here, so it's the freshest place to enjoy hwoe-Korean sushi (basically chopped up raw fish). These three guys are enjoying a Sunday afternoon with some fish and soju.

On a stop for lunch we met the woman who helped us get a cab from the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere. She remembered us from last fall, so we hung out at her rest area and made lunch for her.

My mom, her oldest sister (Seoul Emo) and her third oldest sister (Incheon Emo) in front of a waterfall made famous by being in a popular television drama. Chris, Jeff and I remember it as being a place we came upon after the sun had set. We gave up trying to find a good place to camp and just camped in the stream bed and cooked eggplant parmesan (well a camp approximation of it).

It's garlic harvest time, we found it in every market and on many street corners through out our trip. Korean food uses A LOT of garlic. A household would probably go through at least two, possibly three of these bunches in a year.

This cat was yelling at everyone on the street to buy his ddok (Korean glutenous rice cake) and come try free samples. If after trying his "free" sample, you didn't buy any, he would run after you and grab you buy the arm back to his bowl asking, "Why don't you buy any, didn't it taste good?" and pretty much hound you until you bought some. Pushers come from all walks of like. Luckily the stuff was tasty and we bought a bunch for our hike.

The real ajuma. You may have had to been to Korea to fully appreciate this picture. Yes I am actually related to these women, god help me when I buy a visor and start perming my hair.

Maeshil. A sour plum, I think it's the same as as the Japanese Ume plum. It was in season while we were travelling around. Incheon emo, in addition to the 5 kilos she bought right before we left, bought another 5 kilos (for you Americans, that's 22 pounds of nearly inedible plums). She will turn them into some kind of potent alcohol drink and soak a lot of them in salt and sugar to become some type of long lasting panchan (side dish). Buying and preparing too much food obviously comes from my moms side of the family.

Scenes from a folk village in southern Korea. Typical Korean style houses (hanok), are making a come back as Korean nationalism grows and Koreans take an interest in traditional Korean arts.

Grains drying on a wall, a bird shares in the harvest.

Wouldn't be a post about Korea without some pictures of flowers!

Suncheon Bay. When I lived in Suncheon there was this picture of the Bay that I could never find where it was taken from. Every time I went looking for it, all I found was an inaccessible muddy wetland. Seven years later, after Suncheon Bay became a "wetland of international importance" under the Ramsar Convention (it's like the Kyoto protocol for wetlands), the town of Suncheon created a boardwalk trail through the wetland to connect to another trail up a mountain that yields the famous view of the Bay I had spent so much time looking for. The boardwalk is great, giving you up close views and sounds of frogs, crabs, salamanders, and so many birds. Wetlands are like the liver of our planet and highly under appreciated. If you ever get the opportunity go spend some time in one.

My "second" mother (I lived with her and her family for a year when in Korea), Seoul Emo, my mom and Incheon emo.

After eating far too many large restaurant meals (which was still a nice change from nine straight meals of spicy seafood soup), we protested saying we just wanted to eat in, something simple and small. So my host mother "just" whipped up this amazing broiled duck concoction, served lettuce wrap style. It was absolutely amazing.

Fishing boats at Maryeong, a port in the southwestern part of the country, on our whirlwind day tour or the islands of the southwest province.

Taking a ferry out to Pyeong-il island. Kind of felt like home.

My mom and aunts enjoying the cool sea breezes on the ferry.

Note that I finally have hair again.

Buoys as far as the eye can see (top). They're all seaweed "farms." The lines are hauled in once the seaweed is the desired size and then laid out all over the island under fishing nets (bottomw) to dry in the sun.

A family spends their Sunday afternoon digging for crabs. It's amazing how connected Koreans are to their food. You always see people gathering wild food while hiking, or old ladies collecting ginkgo nuts in the city. Equally amazing is how fast that knowledge is disappearing - in less than two generations.

Signs of fishing livelihood all over the island.

Back in Incheon, this is a large cemetery near my aunt's house. Cemeteries like this are not common. Usually graves are up on a hillside, each hill belonging to a certain clan. I thought the cross of Korean tomb styles and Arlington National Cemetery was interesting.

Cats aren't very common in Korea - even stray ones. I think there's some superstition around them. My mom, besides being very allergic to them, claims "they can't be trusted." This cat earns it's keep by catching mice around this food stand.

Last night in Korea: Jogye Gui (grilled clams). Clams fresh from a tank are grilled over a charcoal fire. You eat them straight out of the shell with a generous dash of hot pepper sauce, washed down with soju or in this case Cheongha, soju's less potent, smoother cousin.

Walk to the bottom of the world's highest peak

2009-05-29T23:42:00.000-07:00

The 2009 IMG Sherpa Trek team above Namche. Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse are in the background, a bit washed out.

Our trek to Everest Base Camp is complete, and we've left Nepal. The trek was an incredible experience, and quite different from what we had been doing traveling simply as a couple. The Sherpa Trek to Everest Base Camp with IMG had a decidedly different flavor than our circuit around Annapurna for many reasons, and it made a great compliment to our time in the Annapurna region.

The goal of the Khumbu trek: views of Mt. Everest

First, we were traveling in a group of 15: 10 trekkers including Liz and me, and 5 Sherpa guides. Several porters and yaks carried our stuff (it makes a big difference when you're not carrying 15 kilos at altitude), but we rarely saw them. During the rest of our trip when it was just the two of us, we had the freedom to decide what to do as the days came. In our professional lives, we're both detailed planners and organizers. You make a plan and execute it -- its what makes us decent engineers. But traveling lends itself to a more open agenda, throwing designs to the wind, keeping options in mind and following your nose wherever it takes you. Sometimes, simply the act of not planning was the best plan of action, and we fell into some of our most memorable experiences this way. I hadn't realized how much we'd actually let go of our controlling minds until I jumped into executing the Sherpa Trek itinerary in early May. It went smoothly, but certainly demanded efforts I hadn't been required to put forth for months.

The largest "city in the Khumbu: Everest Base Camp

IMG's basecamp puja, a place where Bhuddist Sherpa make morning offerings, with the Khumbu Icefall in the background

The number of people in the group meant that something was always going on, with many personal highs and lows as people grappelled with the challenges of the trip and supported one another. I'd like to do some justice to the group's efforts given their experience levels coming into this trip. Half had never even hiked before, let alone for 18 days at altitude. Its not just a hike. Its not even just a hike to the bottom of the world's highest peak, which is a strenuous undertaking in itself. Its a whole experience, a journey of the senses and the mind, as well as the body. Many factors in the environment contribute to a trekker's experience, and someone who might have no problems hiking 12 miles a day at home can find themselves unexpectedly drained and depleted on a trip in Nepal. Sleeping in rustic accommodations and trying to find something appealing to a finicky stomach from the limited lodge menus, along with the inevitability of gastrointestinal illness and the potential for altitude sickness conspire against the body. The mind is often caught off guard by the cultural differences -- some strange, fascinating, and thought-provoking, others confusing and heart wrenching -- presented in the plights of Nepalis one sees on the trail at every turn, and in every village. These are people living lives very different in many ways from our own, and their situations are often written clearly on their face. By day's end, the trekker may have been pondering (consciously or unconsciously) one such face for hours, and feel complete mental fatigue in addition to the physical exhaustion.

View of Everest and Nuptse at dawn from Kala Pathar

These folks performed admirably, and were duly rewarded for their efforts with a genuine experience, accompanied by the satisfaction of having achieved something big. It was a life goal for some.

Second, the Khumbu valley and its prominence in mountaineering history is well known, as are its native Sherpa people. The Annapurna region is home to as many Himalayan giants, but Mt Everest gets most of the press.

Our Sirdar (head guide) Phu Tashi Sherpa with Chris and Liz at Basecamp

While Liz is still out of the country, we've come to the end of our travels together. Liz is in Korea revisiting some of our Baekdu Daegan travels for a to-be-announced future purpose, road tripping with her mother, and visiting family. I am home in Seattle trying to get life going again, absorbing our Nepal experiences and settling as gently as possible back into American life. It won't be a simple process, and I hope we can bring our experiences back into our everyday lives.

Annapurna Circuit Complete, Leaving for Everest Base Camp

2009-04-29T23:47:00.000-07:00

The view from Thorung La pass (5416 m / 17800 ft), the high point on the Annapurna Circuit.

After 23 days of trekking, we completed our walk around the Annapurna massif and up to Annapurna Base Camp. It was an incredible adventure and one that neither of us has the energy to translate into words at the current moment. I think our minds are still absorbing the whole experience. The mountain scenery is astonishing, and the experience of the people and life in the villages in the lowland valleys and the changes higher up were fascinating.

We spent a day in Pokhara after completing the trek, then headed back to Kathmandu to prepare for our next trip to Everest Base Camp. All of the IMG Sherpa Trek team has now arrived in Kathmandu, and we're taking off for Lukla--the start of the trek for us--on a small airplane tomorrow morning. It looks to be a good group ready for a great experience. We'll be accompanied by 4 Sherpa guides, all natives of the famous Khumbu valley and 5 porters (No carrying our heavy packs on this trip--what a treat!). The trek to base camp takes about 10 days, and we'll be arriving just around the time the Everest climbing teams are starting to make summit bids. It will be an exciting time to be there.

IMG is keeping a blog of the 2009 Everest expedition. It obviously follows more of the progress of the climbers, but I think there will be some information on our progress up to Base Camp. In addition, the Discovery Channel is filming with IMG for this season's installment of their Everest show, so there's probably a lot of interesting photos, video and postings up there. You can also sign up for e-mail updates:

http://www.mountainguides.com/everest-south09.shtml

We'll have intermittent access to email during that time if you want to say hello. We'll be back to Kathmandu around May 21st.

Kathmandu

2009-04-01T05:11:00.000-07:00

Three flights, three time changes, one industrial action (labour strike), a ten hour overnight layover on a very cold airport floor and six in-flight movies later (oh the joy!!!) we arrived in Kathmandu - GMT+5:45 - yep somehow 15 minutes off from the rest of the world. Our bags unfortunately got a free trip to London on our Sydney to Bangkok flight that continued on to London. We hope to receive them tomorrow.

Kathmandu is a warren of dirt roads, cows in the middle of the street, construction materials lying around like we're in a war zone and cars, trucks, motorbikes, bicycles and pedestrians all sharing the narrow lanes without much regard to any traffic rules including which side of the road to drive on (the drivers side is on the right of the car). But everyone is smiling and amazingly has all of their limbs intact. And even though everyone seems to be trying to selling us something, everyone feels very sincere and friendly.

A nice Australian befriended us while waiting for bags and offered to share his taxi. He had a really lovely hotel outside of all the fray, so we are somewhat comfortably easing into Nepal. We hope to get our bags tomorrow and then leave for the start of the Annapurna Circuit Trek the next day. We aren't expecting there to be internet access (although who knows, millions of travelers visiting a place brings surprising amenities) so we will next be posting and responding to e-mail when we return to Kathmandu at the end of April. So for Liz's friends, there shouldn't be a change in frequency of response! But for Chris's friends and family you may hear a little less from him.

Last Days in New Zealand

2009-03-27T01:37:00.000-07:00

Its hard to look back and think that almost three months have passed since we landed in New Zealand, but its true. Our last month here has been somewhat of a blur, not just because its gone quickly, but because its been far more disjointed than February, where all we did was cruise from one overnight hike to another.

After an epic 6 day circuit covering two grand river valleys in Nelson Lakes National Park, we left the South Island with a bit of saddness in early March. We spent a couple evenings in Wellington again with Baekdu Daegan guidebook author Roger Shepard, and had a look around New Zealand's capital city. The cultural highlight was the magnificent Te Papa museum, but we also found culinary delights in a small bagel shop run by a New York native, trained in the art of bagelry by an old Jewish baker. For a soul deprived of crusty hard on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside bagels for 7 months, this was indeed a welcome treat.

All but too soon we headed north out of Wellington, making our way to Tongiraro National Park. The park consists of 3 volcanoes which we intended to walk around in 3 days, but the weather gods of Tongiraro decided that this wasn't the time, and we decided to move on rather than wait for a clear spell.

Rotorua was our next stop, and it proved a nice change from the continual and almost overwhelming immersion in incredible scenery that characterized our travels around the south island. Stunning natural settings is certainly what I dreamed of when planning our trip, but after a solid month of it, we both felt we couldn't absorb much more without just sitting in one place for a long while. Rotorua was still natural scenery, but different enough to break the streak.

Rotorua is an area of extreme and pervasive thermal activity, just another manifestation of the huge natural forces at work that have created and are still shaping New Zealand. There are hot springs, geysers, and boiling mud holes boasting colors so rich, so bright and magnificent that the mind can't quite grasp that the visual information its receiving is natural. We went for a relaxing dip in Kerosene Creek, so named for its slight smell. The entire stream was the temperature of a typical hot tub, and the sandy bottom got warmer the deeper you dug your feet. A little waterfall into a large bathing pool nestled in the trees provided a massage and the final touch on this unique little gem. Later that evening, we experimented with the Maori method of cooking using the steam vents of the area, slow-cooking our dinner using the "Hangi" at our camp ground.

With time winding down for us in mid March, we reluctantly returned to Auckland and spent a somewhat hectic five days selling our beloved Toyota campervan. Its an oldie, and a car that's older than many of its potential buyers looking for a sound vehicle to carry them around New Zealand can be a bit of a scare. We had the same sentiments before we bought it. As fate would have it, a mechanic bought the van on the spot without even getting inside it. His wife had wanted one for years and he knew he could work with this classic. It felt like a fitting exchange, since we knew the buyer would take care of it, keep it touring NZ. It served us very well and, now that I don't have to worry about selling it anymore, I can look back on it fondly for all the comfort and memories it provided us.

For the last 10 days, we chose to explore Northland, north of Auckland. Quaint towns, dramatic coastal views and remote beaches was what Northland was about for us. We camped on beaches almost every night, falling asleep to the waves and waking to sunrises with our feet in the sands. Further north, we kayaked in the iconic subtropical Bay of Islands in perfect late summer weather. One afternoon, we hiked up and across massive sand dunes, and boarded down them, cruising at high speeds and covering ourselves in sand. It was everywhere. Beyond civilization and at the tip of the north island, the experience of sitting in silence with the land and the seas at sacred Cape Reinga was something the pictures won't show.

Finally, we settled into the cosy Endless Summer Lodge, our first sense of home in many months. Spending a few nights in an actual house instead of the van, our tent, or a dorm-style hostel was restorative, and brought a glimpse of home just a few months away now. From the comfort of the Endless Summer Lodge, we explored our blooming surfing interests in Ahipara Bay. Well, to be honest we mostly got pounded by waves, but we did catch and ride a few! The beaches of New Zealand, and particularly those of the north island, were an unexpected surprise that filled out our final leg here, and once again demonstrated NZ's wide variety of landscapes. Northland was a spectacular way to go out.

On our last full day in Auckland, we walked to the top of Mt Eden, a small hill overlooking the city. From this vantage, the maze of suburban streets we'd been navigating seemed to make a bit more sense, helping me wrap my head around Auckland a bit before departing. But the prize of the afternoon was realizing that the whole city is dotted with small, dormant volcanoes, including the one on which we were standing. They're everywhere, and looking out across the land their shapes were unmistakeable. We had a picnic lunch and reflected on 3 months--a whole summer's worth--of traveling around this small little island nation of natural beauty. Liz commented on how strange it is that the gateway to a country where you've come to see the natural world is usually a city, thereby making up your first and last impressions of the place. I sat back and imagined the landscape we were looking out upon without all the buildings. In my mind's eye, it was no less stunning than the rest of what we'd experienced. I think this was New Zealand's spirit, shining through in the landscape and bidding us farewell.

Here are a couple photo sets from the last couple weeks. Click on the slideshow to see them in full size.

Nelson Lakes National Park

Rotorua and Northland

On Monday, March 30th, we fly to Bangkok, spend an undesireable night in the airport, and then fly on to Kathmandu, Nepal. We'll spend April trekking around Annapurna, and during May we'll join IMG's Sherpa Trek to Everest Base Camp. Nepal was a must for both of us, and we're looking forward to it, even it means we have to leave New Zealand.

Popaw Riggs

2009-03-04T23:28:00.000-08:00

Marion "Mac" McKay Riggs
October 16, 1924 - March 2, 2009

My grandfather could wiggle his ears. It's something I would look forward to witnessing every time we went to their house for a visit. I would wait until after dinner, while the plates were being cleared and coffee was being made, and beg him to wiggle them. He would hem and haw and then finally give in and sternly instruct me to pay close attention. Then to my delight, those massive ears would wiggle up and down. He could also pull the tip of his thumb off in a magic trick that flummoxed my young mind for many years. Grandfathers can do the most amazing things.

My grandfather was a stern and rather imposing figure that I only saw a couple of times of year. I can't say I was particularly close with him, but I will dearly miss his strong presence that was a key ingredient in the tight-knit mix of our small Riggs family. He had this uncanny ability to nurse a single shot of Bourbon on ice for what seemed like hours. He would gently swirl the ice around in the tumbler, occasionally tapping the ring finger of his right hand holding the glass, the massive ring on the finger adding a more staccato "tink" to the tinkle of the ice. This sound was an integral part of the presence of my grandfather - like the sound of his voice. His voice was a deep gravelly sound that liked to instruct the "Yankee" portion of our family and later my very "Yankee" fiance on the proper pronunciation of "bayou" and more importantly "pecan." He could tell the longest stories; the sound of his voice and the tinkling of the ice the tell-tale sign of a Riggs gathering.

Popaw hated commercials, a quality I absolutely love now, but didn't understand when I was younger. Each commercial break during Jeopardy! he would hit the mute button. Commercials were for talking, but woe to the person who talked during the television show. Once the mute button was flipped, talking was to cease. Yet he put up with, even encouraged and chuckled at, the elaborate horse jumping courses my cousin, sister and I would set up and for hours pretend we were horses, running circuits around the house, regardless of the state of the mute button.

Popaw had papery hands just like his mother, my great-grandmother. He does not have what I have dubbed "Riggs hands" which are in reality "Breit hands" a trait my grandmother seems to have passed on to all of us - huge wrinkled knuckles with skinny fingers in between. Popaw's fingers were thick and even. He would spread his hands on the table while waiting for coffee after dinner and use all his fingers to play a little roll off - like the drum cadence at the beginning of movies. He would fold those papery hands in front of his face while listening to Benny Goodman (another quality I could not appreciate until I was much older), occasionally tapping the tips of his fingers together in time with the music. Or those solid hands would rest on each arm of his easy chair, tapping occasionally in time to the music. He had the other uncanny ability to doze with his legs crossed, still always holding his drink up, occasionally tapping those thick fingers in time to music.

My grandfather also hated the saxophone and I absolutely love that about him.

My impressions and memories of him, even as an adult, are still that of a child remembering a loving grandfather. I often think of some of my baby pictures, me on Popaw's lap, usually dumping something in his morning coffee, and him just smiling, happy with his first grandchild.
I never knew my grandfather in a professional sense or in any adult way that most people in the world knew him. But I do remember staring at the wall of the guestroom/office my sister and I would stay in when spending summers at my grandparents. It was filled with plaques from various civic clubs, Rotary, the many square dance clubs and federations he served in various offices for and engineering degrees and distinctions. I remember being filled with awe by a person so active and so seemingly important. To this day it inspires me just how involved he was with his community, not to be today's super-mom or dad, but just because it was the right thing to do.

Eighty-four is a good long life; I'm very fortunate to be 29 and still have grandparents in my life. But his passing still makes the time seem too short. I will miss him dearly.

* * *

My biggest nightmare when travelling is the death of someone back home and not being able to get back. My grandfather died on March 2, 2009. I was sitting in a hut in Nelson Lakes National Park waiting out the rain in order to have a clear day to hike the alpine section. We were hiking for six days and it had been well over a week since I had checked my e-mail. In that time my grandfather was admitted to the hospital with a blockage in one of his bypass arteries from his previous heart attack. He also had pneumonia at the time. Early Monday morning he went into cardiac arrest and had to be resuscitated leaving him on life support. The fortunate thing was that the whole family was in Fayetteville, AR (where my grandparents now live) to see my grandmother who just got out of the hospital for hip replacement surgery. My grandfather did not wish to be artificially kept alive on life support, so later that morning they took him off and surrounded by his family he died shortly after. I did not find out about all of this until two days later - 16 hours before the memorial service. It would be physically impossible for me to get back home in time.

My family is very practical and even if I could get home, I think we would all feel it would financially be an unwise thing to do. So it leaves me here in a small town in New Zealand feeling a little lost. Normally I would be with my family, I would meet other people who had been in Popaw's life. I could hug my grandmother. But instead I'm sitting in an internet cafe debating if I should send flowers. How weird to send flowers to your own family?

So I'm writing this tribute to my grandfather. I'm sure he's a like a lot of other grandfathers out there, uniquely wonderful in the way only grandfather's can. I hope I can do justice to the truly wonderful person he was.

Goodbye Popaw. I love you and will miss you.

Routeburn Track, Mt. Aspiring and Arthur's Pass

2009-03-04T23:22:00.000-08:00

More to write soon, for now here are some pictures to enjoy. We are currently in the Golden Bay area and it's raining again! We'll cross the Cook Strait to the North Island in a few days and start touring up there.

More Fiordland and Mt Aspiring NP Photos, onto West Coast

2009-02-22T14:41:00.001-08:00

Fiordland...

Mt Aspiring National Park...

Here are a few more pictures to enjoy from our time in Fiordland. We've now been working our way north and after a day of ridculously amazing weather in Aspiring NP where we hiked up to Cascade Saddle, we've had to pay the piper and it has been raining for four days straight. This means we've skipped up the west coast, missing all the glaciers (but really, we can climb on these at home right?) and experiencing first hand, just a little bit of the 7 meters of rain that falls on Westland annualy - it has to fall some time right?

We're past the halfway point of our trip and thoughts have been turning towards home lately. We just purchased our final plane tickets. We will be in Nepal in April and May to hike the Annapurna Circuit and trek up to Everest Base Camp. Then Chris heads back to Seattle, while I will head back to Korea for three weeks to do a little research for a Korean trekking tour I'm trying to put together, and to make what will surely be an epic road trip with my mom! Then it's off to Omaha for a while and a western US road trip for about a month, putting me back in Seattle around August. So far and yet so close!

We've both been talking about what it will be like to be back at home. A lot of historic changes and turbulent events have taken place since we left. When we left Barack Obama had just recieved the Democratic Party nomination. Now he is President of the United States, unemployement is at 7% and we are in what all the newspapers have dubbed a global recession. And yet here we are jobless (and really homeless) traipsing around the world in an old van. It's hard to stay in touch with that every day reality. I'm sure there will be a lot of reverse culture shock when we return! For now we'll just keep up with the hard task of seeing as many amazing sights as we can see and enjoying as much good food and wine as we can!

Southland and Fiordland National Park

2009-02-11T20:24:00.000-08:00

After leaving Aoraki/Mt Cook National Park, we made a coastal circuit from the town of Oamaru on New Zealand's east coast, down through the funky college town of Dunedin and along the Southern Scenic Route up to Te Anau, the gateway to Fiordland National Park.

Dunedin was a great college town full of good restaurants, two excellent (and free!) museums and--like any college town worth it's salt--a few breweries. We toured the Speight's brewery which we've dubbed the New Belgium of New Zealand. Not quite as good nor extensive in their offerings, but it's a solid drinkable ale with a few very good craft beer offerings. Such a welcome relief after the tasteless lagers of Asia and even a lot of the more common Budweiser-type offerings here. Interesting little tidbit: Speight's bottles their beer in Christchurch, a few hours north of Dunedin so all the beer leaves their brewery in tanker trucks most bound for the bottling plant. However a few local taverns take deliveries directly from these tankers (think gas station delivery trucks) into their 5000 liter tanks. This unpasteurized beer only has a shelf life of a couple of weeks, but the thirsty students of Dunedin have no problem finishing it off well before it's expiry date!

We've mostly been trying new wines. New Zealand produces an impressive number of varietals, but by far the best has been Sauvingnon Blanc from Marlborough and Pinot Noir from Central Otago. Once we started buying in the appropriate price bracket (about 25 NZ$) they have all been excellent!

On the Otago Peninsula we saw all sorts of marine wildlife - yellow eyed penguins, albatross, sea gulls, scags (cormorants) and NZ fur seals. We also enjoyed nice walks in the rural countryside filled with sheep grazing right next to the ocean. It's hard not to look around and ponder how all of this would be filled with second (third or fourth) vacation homes in the US, all the good views blocked by 5000 sq. ft. "cottages." But here, it's just some sheep working frantically to keep the grass short.

The coastal route was beautiful indeed, and we took our sweet old time, cruising at the van's moderate pace, and pausing along the way wherever our interests dictated. Lots of wind, rugged coastline, more penguins and even some Hector's dolphins. We've been having some great luck seeing wildlife on this trip.

After a few days of lounging around in our personal "beachside cottage" (re: our van), we headed inland to Fiordland National Park which together with Mt. Cook and Westland National Park make up the Southwest New Zealand World Heritage Conservation Area (a UNESCO World Heritage site). These national parks make up 10% of New Zealand's land mass...pretty impressive. We hiked the Kepler Track, dubbed one of New Zealand's "Great Walks." The Kepler was created to take some pressure off the immensely popular Milford and Routeburn tracks. It's a wonderfully designed track, built in a loop (unlike most tracks here) with a low grade and long switch backs. In the forest it was almost like being on I-80 - the track was straight and flat, Chris and I could walk two abreast and gape at the forest without running into each other. The forest is similar to the northwest in that it is a temperate rainforest ergo it is wall to wall green moss shag carpeting. But the trees are mostly deciduous - these very small-leafed and gigantic beech, and their ferns are so big they're trees! The alpine views from the Kepler were amazing--impossibly steep mountains falling right into a deep narrow lake. You kind of have to stop and pinch yourself every so often because the scenery is so much to take in.

The day after getting off the Kepler track, we headed up to the infamous Milford Sound. Words can't do this justice, so I will let our pictures do the talking. We took a cruise around the fiord and out to the Tasman Sea. There, dolphins greeted us like we were at Sea World - flips, leaps out of the water in pairs, they were everywhere. Very uncommon, and absolutely amazing. Luckily it rained cats and dogs the next day because I was on sensory overload and needed a day of reading in the van to process everything I'd seen.

To round out the fiord tours, we went on a overnight kayak trip in Doubtful Sound - so named because when James Cook passed it in explorations of New Zealand was "doubtful" he would be able to turn his ship around and sail out if he went in. Indeed it's very narrow and the wind is squirrely. We had perfect weather the first day and rain the second which gave you a good feeling of the place by seeing the contrast in weather and mood. The kayaking was wonderful, the scenery was amazing and our guide was excellent.

Now we're in amped up Queenstown, off to hike the Routeburn and Caples Tracks -- another 4 day circuit. The weather has taken a turn for the colder so we'll see how we fair on this one! Enjoy the pictures!

As always, click on the pictures for a full screen slideshow.

Road trip around New Zealand

2009-01-25T21:31:00.000-08:00

Arriving in New Zealand brings a touch of culture shock coming from Asia. Everyone speaks English, everything is more expensive, and you can't take a bus everywhere you would like to go. We showed up in Auckland, and after dusting off the wear and tear of overland travel of the previous week, set out to purchase a vehicle to cart us around New Zealand's north and south islands.

Its strange how in some places, there is just a certain way things are done, and in New Zealand, there is a burgeoning backpacker culture where many travelers either rent or even buy a campervan. Buying a car is surprisingly easy as far as the paperwork goes, and after two days of exhaustive searching and filling out a few forms at the post office, we were the prowd owners of a 1979 Toyota Hiace van. The van has a pop-up top that we put up when camping which allows a standing position in the kitchen/closet area. There is a two burner LPG stove with a small oven mounted on top of a chest of plastic drawers which house everything from culterly and cooking utensils to food and clothing. The Mystery Machine also has a bed, which is its biggest draw, allowing us to camp inexpensively, while providing a significant step up in comfort from tent camping. Car camp grounds with varying levels of ameneties are everywhere, making the perfect network for a road trip in a souped up van. Its a pretty sweet way to travel.

A typical tour of New Zealand would encompass loops of both the north and south islands, but our climbing habit dictated that we head straight for Mt Cook National Park in the middle of the south island to get the best of conditions before the routes melted out too much. Four days later, we arrived in the awe-inspiring Mt Cook region. Along the way, we stopped to stay with Roger Shepard, fellow Baekdu Daegan thru-hiker and co-author of the forthcoming first-ever English guidebook to Korea's mystical long trail. It was a great visit and really cool to connect with someone we'd never met but with whom we have much in common. Thanks, Roger!

Settling into Mt Cook National Park, I was keenly aware that we'd discovered something I was helplessly falling in love with. While the mountains look a bit like Washington's Cascade Range, the glaciers are more massive and continuous, and the area just oozes atmosphere as the heart and soul of the country's climbing scene. There is a brilliant network of high mountain huts, providing bases for exploration deep within the range while offering a safe haven to wait out the infamous bad weather. People fly into remote huts and stay there for weeks, heading out on adventures when the weather cooperates. The Department of Conservation, much like out National Park Service but a tad slicker, runs most of the huts, all of which are equiped with radios via which nightly weather forecasts are delivered. I dream of such a system and culture in Washington, but it doesn't exist for various reasons which I won't go into here.

Waiting for the weather to clear, we hung out in the van and perused our maps and guidebook looking for a suitable climbing objective. The rangers at the DOC vistors center and the guides at Alpine Guides were especially helpful in this as well. We headed out optimistically towards Sefton Bivy, a small 4 person hut perched high above the village at the base of the glacial mass on the east side of Mt Sefton, one of the region's heavy hitters. Our goal was to climb a nearby peak called the Footstool. It sounded benign enough to me.

A 3 am start wasn't enough to get us to the top before the heat of the day signalled that it was time to turn around, 100 meters from the top. That isn't to say that the climb was a failure, but we certainly felt like it got the best of us at the time. To assess it from the optimist's point of view, we had a wonderful climb up and over two beautiful glaciers in fairly good weather, and were witness to a glorious sunrise over the region. Our position was high enough that we had front row seats for the sun's greeting of Mt Cook and the surrounding peaks, as well as a constant flow of clouds from the always-wet west coast valleys. It was a fantastic way to really start our trip in New Zealand, and a great introduction to the Mt Cook area.

After the Footstool, we hiked to the high alpine Ball Pass on a great weather day. The route was longer than we'd expected and full of loose rock and scree, but we were rewarded with spectacular panoramas of the Hooker Valley (and the whole of our route on the Footstool from a different perspective), the Tasman Valley, and an up close encounter with the massive and imposing Caroline Face on Mt Cook. The whole park experience was quite unexpected, and we had a hard time leaving, both of us having that 'end of vacation' feeling, even though we still have over two months left in New Zealand. I guess that's how you know your feelings about a place.

We have already planned a return trip to the Mt Cook area for some ski touring, hearing that the weather is actually better in the winter, and desiring to spend some time high up in the huts. And thus, the problem with traveling is illuminated here. Some say you travel to get it out of your system, but for others--including me--that is just not the case. Instead of checking things off the list we've just been adding things onto the end of it.

Krabi -> Singapore -> Auckland

2009-01-08T20:28:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite bands to see in concert built much of their reputation on brilliantly executed segues between several songs, often across seemingly disparate keys and musical themes. These seemless movements from one song to the next were shown on their setlists with arrows ( -> ), suggesting a journey, a connection of ideas. Thinking back over the last week of our travels, I saw a parallel. I love the idea that traveling is a method for one to draw his own route across the earth joining places of interest, but more importantly, to connect meaningful experiences in his mind.

If I think back across the years, these three places hold much intrigue for me. Krabi is a world class rock climbing destination which has been the subject of more discussions I've had about Thailand than any other place in the country. Singapore's strict but squeaky-clean image was burned into my mind (maybe all of ours?) in high school when a traveler was caned for a petty offense of chewing gum or spitting on the street. Simultaneously frightened and curious, I figured I'd end up here eventually to have a look. Finally, New Zealand (of which Auckland is the gateway) was the initial impetus for my wanderlust as a university student. So, it is with great amusement that I've now threaded these destinations together as a traveler.

We spent five days rock climbing in the paradise of Ton Sai Beach, Krabi in southern Thailand. A friend flew in from Seattle to meet us, and then we unintentionally ran into our hiking companion from Korea on New Years Eve, making for a wonderful crew and a week of fun. The climbing on Ton Sai is amazing, to say the least -- big, juggy limestone, with so much variety. We climbed for five days straight, whipping us both into exhaustion, but leaving us equally elated. Of particular note was the day we spent deep water soloing. Climbers will be familiar with this, but for the benefit of the uninitiated, it is a form of climbing in which you climb unroped on cliffs directly above the water, using the water as your safety net. Obviously, ability and confidence can get you into hairy spots here, but its an amazing way to climb, and released me from a recent fear of falling while roped (That might sound strange; scared to fall while roped, but not scared while not roped high above water, but that's how it played out). For me, discovering deep water soloing was akin to backcountry skiing. That is, a perfect combination of two things I love to do; climb and jump off things into the water. It was pure climbing, and pure fun.

Liz made some wonderful connections during her NOLS course in Alaska, and we've had the pleasure of meeting up with several of her classmates on this trip, two of whom live in Singapore. After the protests at the Bangkok airport in December, and desiring to see her NOLS friends, we booked our flight to Auckland out of Singapore. We traveled overland by bus and a 14 hour train from Krabi through Malaysia to arrive in affluent Singapore two days ago. Its a wonderful city as far as cities go, and with the guidance of her friends Chin Yong and Isky, we have had a great time exploring it a bit. Mostly, we've eaten a lot of good food, stayed in a great hostel, and had our first microbrew beer since leaving Seattle 4 months ago. Phwew.

We leave for Auckland this evening, and arriving there will, for me, represent the fulfillment of a decade long dream of traveling to New Zealand, which has occupied a spot in my mind like Shangri-la for much of my adult life.

Laos in Photos

2009-01-04T04:47:00.000-08:00

Here are several photo sets from Laos. They were much easier to upload here in Thailand, where the internet speeds are light years ahead!

The Gibbon Experience

Luang Nam Tha and Muang Sing

Muang Khua and Muang Ngoi

Luang Prabang

Postcards from Laos

2008-12-30T00:13:00.000-08:00

Chris plays with some locals (who all show him up in diving ability) at a swimming hole north of Vang Vieng.

We are in Bangkok right now, having just returned from spending almost four weeks in Laos. There is very little internet access in Laos and when we did find connections, they were pretty slow. I felt time was better spent playing cards, drinking BeerLao and watching life go by. Consequently, I have to figure out how to summarize the past four weeks in a reasonable length blog post, while adequately describing the amazing time we had there. I'll be honest - I can't.

There were countless amazing specific experiences I should start by describing. We slept in tree houses accessed by zip lines at The Gibbon Experience , a nature reserve in northwest Laos that is working to protect a population of Black Gibbon previously thought to be extinct through community based eco-tourism. It was too cold to hear the gibbons sing, but we awoke each morning to a symphony of birds feeding on fruit from the tree our tree house was set in.

In Luang Nam Tha, further north, we hiked through beautiful dense forests of the Nam Ha conservation area and visited Hmong, Lanten and Khmu villages. "Eco-toursim" is a buzz word indiscriminately used all over Laos and Thailand, but we found in in Luang Nam Tha, the authorities have had success in setting up a business model that provides monetary benefit to the villages and meaningful experience to travellers without resorting to "ethno-tourism" that shamelessly exploits villages and turns them into little more than a costume circus.

We travelled by boat to a town called Muang Noi in central northern Laos. The town is accessible only by boat, has no motor vehicles and only has electricity from dusk until about 9 p.m. We spent several days lazily hanging out by the river or paddling up it and admiring the dramatic limestone karsts.

We spent almost a week in Luang Prabang, a UNESCO world heritage city, admiring the architecture, marveling at the diversity of tourists, enjoying coffee and bread, taking cooking classes and buying far too many textiles.

I think, however, our experience in Laos is better described by many non-specific incidents that happened over our four weeks. They form indelible pictures in my mind - personal postcards if you will - that I wish I could fully describe with words.

Roads in Laos aren't just for cars. Sitting on a bus you will watch the driver dodge a cow, dog, chicken, small child, motorcycle, all manner of modified utility moped/truck, or rice drying on the road, usually by swerving to the other side of the road and honking repeatedly, which means there is a requisite swerving back into the "correct" lane when oncoming traffic, cow, dog, chicken, etc. is encountered on the other side of the road. In Luang Nam Tha, there is a long flat road that parallels a runway. You can see for miles in either direction. On it you will see schoolgirls in uniform riding six abreast on their bikes, kids walking, men and women hauling produce or firewood in baskets and all manner of vehicle ranging from a street food stand that is little more than moped with a small kitchen attached, to a several ton dump truck. Along this road there are people playing soccer, doing laundry, showering, cooking dinner or simply standing and watching life going by. I'm sure accidents happen, but it's amazing how much life seems to peacefully coexist on this two-lane stretch of pavement.

In the evening campfires are built in the yard. Dinner is cooked over it and the whole family hangs out around the fire until bedtime. The valleys fill with smoke and the smell of campfire in the evening which doesn't burn off until around midday the next day. All our food has a slight smoky barbecued flavor to it as most of our food in Laos has been cooked over the fire. Most of our food also freely wanders around town - no matter the size of town - and we probably very well walked past the chicken or pig that became our chicken or pork laap (a Lao minced meat salad eaten with sticky rice) for dinner. I mean this in the most endearing way, but Laos feels like one gigantic barnyard. Chickens, ducks, goats, cows, water buffalo, pigs and of course thousands of cats and dogs all freely wander around. For someone who grew up in a city and longs for goats and chickens of her own, it provided countless hours of amusement. Of course, I think of all these animals a little less endearingly when the roosters begin crowing at 4 a.m. - and this happens everywhere, regardless of the size of the village or the city.

Kids are very adept with knives. A machete is standard issue by at least age three or four as children in the village accompany their parents or grandparents to gather food products in the forest. I've seen a two year old wandering around the yard with a 8 inch chef's knife which was only mildly noticed by her mother. The funny thing is that it little girl looked quite comfortable carrying the knife instead of the usual tottering-around-about-to-fall-on-their-face way that most two year olds look. Children carry younger children and babies in order to free up their mothers to do heavier work. It gives them all the appearance of being small adults. There is an almost unnerving wiseness to their face that makes them appear much older than their size indicates they are.

Laos is a very poor country. People live in straw and wooden shacks. And while I think most people are well feed since in general the majority of the population grows their own food, they have little extra to cover for an illness, crop failure or flood. Chris and I had a lot of debates about the ethics of us just wandering all over the country if we're helping or causing harm. It's a good debate to have and travelling here also opened our eyes to the poverty we ignore in our own and other first world nations. These past four weeks have definitely not been a vacation, but the warmth of all the people we encountered, the scenery and the food have left it's mark and we look forward to returning to Laos in the future.

Northern Thailand

2008-12-09T05:43:00.001-08:00

Our time in northern Thailand flew by. A waning visa gave us about two weeks to explore the north, although we could have easily spent two months there. The mountains, people and the food were all amazing, and I don't have the energy to sufficiently do any of it justice, so I'll let the photos do most of the talking. Liz has many other choice photo selections, but she chooses to spend less time in front of the computer that we left home to escape than I. A constantly morphing itinerary ended up looking something like this.

Phitsanulok and Sukhothai
Phitsanulok is a small market town where we took a deep breath to enjoy normal life and then visited nearby Sukhothai to take in the ruins of one of Thailand's ancient capitals.

Chiang Mai
The cultural center of the north, Chiang Mai was a surprise to me even after having heard so much about it. Art galleries, new world coffee shops, markets running day and night, and delicious food of all origins and for all budgets. It was hard to grasp what exactly was going on in Chiang Mai for me, but it was certainly an entertaining place to spend four days. But alas, we are mountain people and the peace and quiet of the hills called us further north and west to the remote province of Mae Hong Son.

Soppong & Cave Lodge
Soppong is a small yet surprisingly busy market town high in the hills where many of the surrounding hill tribes come to sell their produce and handmade goods. We rolled into Soppong on a bouncy orange bus, spent one night and day checking out the little town and then headed for the fabled Cave Lodge. One of the reviews we read said that Cave Lodge was more an experience than a place to stay, and no words were ever more true. From the moment we arrived, staying at Cave Lodge was different than any place we've stayed in three months of traveling. The large open air communal area--inside which nightly camp fires were hosted by the Australian owner--was a great place to meet others, and that we did. The lodge's location in the rural woods just 30 km from the Myanmar border also allowed for many exploring opportunities. We kayaked through a 500 meter long cave, wandered through dramatic limestone karst cliff formations, and biked to a nearby Karen (hill tribe) village where we hired a local guide to take us into the forest and into yet another cave. There is so much to see and do in this small area that we are certain to return, and I would highly recommend a stay here to anyone looking for adventure and fun in northern Thailand. Check out the website in the link above for more.

Mae Hong Son
Mae Hong Son is a small Thai town nestled in the mountains of the northwestern corner of the country. We spent several days here enjoying the town's market, peaceful daily ongoings, and exploring the surrounding mountains and villages on motorbikes and on foot.

In the middle of somewhere

2008-11-30T07:38:00.000-08:00

The best things in life aren't things.
--Art Buchwald
Sometimes the best thing you can do is to sit down in one place and wait for something interesting to happen. This idea was presented to me by a friend in college, and her wisdom at that young age continues to impress me as I go through life. She's right time after time, and this has been especially true during our travels. Liz and I aren't see-as-much-as-possible travelers, even though we've tried that several times on this trip. Discovering the depth of a place is what has revealed our best experiences.

If you asked most travelers about their trips through Thailand, few would probably mention the town of Phitsanulok. Located in central Thailand between the bustle of Bangkok and the natural beauty of the northern provinces, Phitsanulok is just a simple Thai town with little to offer the sight-seeker. It has a train station, several markets, a few hotels, and a riverside nightlife scene. The nationally-revered Buddha image at Wat Yai is probably the town's most significant tourist draw, but that alone wouldn't be enough to pull in most foreign travelers on their way north to the cultural hub of Chiang Mai.

We stopped in Phitsanulok as a base for a side trip to the ancient city ruins of Sukhothai, an hour away. While we enjoyed the ruins for their historical value, our time in Phitsanulok extended beyond what we had initially intended simply because the town was such a pleasant place to just be. Its strangely comforting to try to live a normal life in someone else's normal town.

Over three days, we enjoyed walking around, getting the lay of the land, eating three square meals a day, and taking time to learn and practice speaking a bit more Thai. We mastered numbers, greetings, basic commerce ("How much is this?"), and the always necessary "What do you call this?" so we can ask for something we've enjoyed in the future. After several meals in the same small morning buffet, we were greeted with smiles and encouragement at our communication attempts. We started recognizing and passing people we'd seen several times on the street, and they recognized us as well. We found the post office, talked to high school students and shopped at the local market.

The highlight for both of us, I believe, was a string of interactions we had with a little girl and her mother over three days. Its amazing how much you can truly communicate without language. I hope I never forget the feeling of those three days. Its richness will certainly outshine any souvenir I could possibly hope to bring home.

Returning from our Vacation

2008-11-18T00:28:00.000-08:00

"But you're on vacation...for a whole year!" is perhaps your protest. But after hiking for seven weeks, we felt our bodies needed a break. So we hightailed it down to southern Thailand to the island of Ko Phangan. We arrived safely after much adventure involving a tourist bus and boat that was nothing like what was advertised, while having a bit of a stomach bug that we probably unfairly attributed to some yummy treat we had from a street vendor. How we ended up on said tourist bus is also another lesson in why we shouldn't talk to strangers. But no harm came of it all and now we are savvier travelers (until the next incident!).

After some antibiotics and rest, we both recovered, it stopped raining (it turns out that while November is considered part of the dry season in Thailand, it is the rainiest month of the year for Koh Samui and Koh Phangan!) and we enjoyed beautiful weather, quiet, empty beaches, and some amazingly great food. Quite by chance we found Haad Khom and the wonderful people of Ocean View Resort. Most of the places we stayed on the island had ten-page menus of pretty non-descript western and western-style Thai food. Ocean View is run by a foodie, with specials every night like steamed white snapper with lime. Absolutely amazing. We could have spent a month there happily biding times between three (or four!) meals a day on the beach.

But alas, we felt there is so much we want to see and lest we kick our selves later on, we decided to end our vacation and head north. We head to Sukothai (ancient capital city ruins) tomorrow, and hopefully we'll meet up with some friends from my NOLS course in Alaska. I'm sure we'll have stories! In the mean time here are some pictures for your enjoyment.

Bangkok:

Ko Phangan:

Hello Thailand!

2008-11-06T04:13:00.000-08:00

With a quite a bit of sadness, we bid farewell to Incheon Emo, my mom, sister and the comfort of the known in Korea yesterday. We hopped on a flight to Bangkok arrived around 11 pm, took a bus into the city, got off in a mess of foreigners from all over the world and a whole host of stores, bars restaurants and street vendors catering to backpackers needs - it's like Disney World for potheads. We're back in the heat and humidity again (can you tell we live really far north!?) and spent today wandering around in a bit of a daze. For me it's been a tough adjustment not knowing how to read anything nor be able to say anything other than thank you, which still usually comes out in English. I go back and forth between feeling like a jerk and loving the complete foreignness of it all. It's interesting to shift gears from "traveller" to "tourist." We had a great day just wandering around the area without consulting a guide book too much. We ate several interesting things too, including what I think was a deep fat fried omelet. The Thai food issue will surely be interesting. We'll probably spend one more day here and then head south for some beaches and relaxation - although I'm sure the south will still provide lots of fun stories to share!

Final photo sets from Korea

2008-11-04T06:52:00.000-08:00

Although they haven't been appropriately sorted, we've posted a bunch of photos from our last two weeks of hiking and our week of relaxing and family time in and around Seoul.

Click on the picture for a full sized slide show.

North of Songnisan National Park to Woraksan National Park:

North of Woraksan National Park through Sobaeksan National Park:

North of Sobaeksan National Park through Taebaeksan Provincial Park:

Some of Liz's pictures from Woraksan to the end.

The Food Issue

2008-11-04T05:34:00.000-08:00

Chris and I like to eat. When we lived in Telluride, chair lift conversations would often center around what to make for dinner. I love to go to grocery stores and just wander around when I feel anxious. Checking out grocery stores is also one of my favorite things to do in foreign countries. Chris could talk for hours about the finer points of a good sandwich. The prospect of eating pasta and rehydrated food for many days on end has been one of the most significant drawbacks of extended backpacking trips.

Doing a NOLS course in Alaska changed all that. I learned how to make pizza, bread, cinnamon rolls, and lots of ways to cook pasta and rice. Excited about trying these skills out on our Korea trip, I purchased 7 days worth of bulk food and brought it to Korea. Aside from it being a tad too much food and far too heavy, it helped us ease into the trail with a known menu. We had black bean soup, falafel, quinoa, pastas, pancakes and Parmesan cheese among other items. Additionally, comprehensive spice kit provided a multitude of options.

NOLS uses an indestructible, heavy steel pan called a Banks Fry-Bake for, well, frying and baking. Chris balked at the weight of the fry-bake so I picked up a lighter aluminum fry pan that seemed like a reasonable compromise. The pan didn't work quite as well, but after a few false starts with a chocolate cake and pancakes, we finally mastered its touchy nature. Chris has pancakes down to an art -- first with a multi grain mix we brought from home and now with a "hotcake" mix we've been able to find in most stores.

Ramen noodles were a staple for a while. Sometimes we add egg or tuna and it really warms you up in the rain.

It didn't rain much but cooking in the rain is never fun, even when it's warm noodles

We've also figured out how to dress up plain noodles and all the various enhancements that can be made to achieve the desired effect.

Kuk-su (Korean noodles) with cucumber, carrots and beef jerky

We've also gotten creative with what we can put together from restaurants. For most of the trip we carried around 4 oz. bottles of vegetable oil and sesame oil. We'd eat at a restaurant and then ask if they could fill our bottle with oil. Neither of the proprietors seemed to think it a strange request and both refused our offers to buy it.

Other times we've gotten creative and combined food from street vendors with food from grocery stores.

Liz scores some fried eggs to eat with bread purchased at the convenience store next door

Chris enjoys fried eggs and toast

Sometimes we'd both just crave familiar food.

MMMM Dunkin Donuts

The first time we found cereal we bought a box and a quart of milk, poured the milk in the bag and ate the entire thing -- right in front of the grocery store.

Interesting fusion - pumpkin cereal with pumpkin seeds and black bean soy milk

Dinner is where these newly acquired camp kitchen skills really shine. With the addition of Jeff to the trip, meals have stepped up another notch. However, we realized that somewhere during the last two weeks of the trip, much of our regard for lightweight food choices has been traded for culinary bliss. We packed around apples, tomatoes, cucumbers, an entire bottle of olive oil, and ten-packs of eggs (the Korean dozen). Here is a sampling of our menu:

Freshly baked bread

Add some fresh tomatoes and you have bruschetta

Apple-peanut-onion fried pasta

Flour dredged eggplant

On top of pasta with tomato sauce

Chris's speciality rice and vegetable stew

Tuna sandwiches

Breakfast potatoes

Usually served with Jeff's pan scrambled eggs

My aunt hooked us up with several bags of food that turned into three meals

We've also had some amazing meals at restaurants along and just off the trail. In Songnisan (which is famous for mushrooms), we went back to a restaurant I visited when I was here five years ago. I forgot just how much food they served! We made a noble attempt.

Before

After

Fried snacks from a truck while waiting for buses

Kimchee and handmade tofu with rice wine, a Korean hiking staple

Breakfast al fresco

We took full advantage of our slow progress to eat well on the trail. Being in the mountains has also given us ample opportunity to enjoy mountain specialty meals. Our bodies may be tired, but at least they are well fed.

Reflections on long distance hiking

2008-11-04T05:24:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This is a long post with no pictures. I had a lot of time to think while hiking for two months, and I wanted to distill my thoughts on through-hiking here. No hard feelings if you don't make it to the end.

I've been a hiker for as long as I can remember. Growing up in rural northwestern Connecticut afforded my family abundant and easy access to the outdoors. The small town of Barkhamsted is an unsung, beautiful New England gem where roughly half of the town's rolling hills and river valleys are State Forest land. A surprising network of trails provided seemingly endless opportunities for hiking and exploring on weekends and long summer days. My parents' enthusiasm for the outdoors was contagious, and after years of family outings, I found myself heading out into the woods on my own. Sometimes I would venture into new territory, continually looking for the next great secret of Litchfield County, and other times I would return to the same loop hike high above the Farmington River that we'd walked hundreds of times. I still do this same hike almost every time I am in Connecticut. It never seems to get old, and it has become a pilgrimage of sorts.

In high school, I got into backpacking and then during my college years at RPI I spent many weekends exploring the mountains of upstate New York, Vermont and New Hampshire. During all that time, and after living and hiking in Washington for four and half years, the longest backpacking trip I'd ever done was six days.

Walking the Baekdu Daegan in South Korea was my first foray into the world of through hiking, and it proved to be quite a different experience than all of my previous backpacking endeavors. The long duration of our trip brought to light new facets of walking in the woods that I may not have ever conceptualized without experiencing them.

Perhaps the most enlightening realization I had was that it is best to approach each day with no expectations. Almost every day on the trail came with surprise events and occurrences. Altering plans was frequently required due to inaccuracies in the maps, changing weather, our fluctuating energy levels and other unpredictable factors. The unknown initially threatens the mind's sense of control. But after a couple weeks of low-level anxiety and concern about what events might transpire, I stopped trying to anticipate the day. I came to view our plan for the day as merely one possible outcome. I would just wake up and walk, and let the day happen. Strangely, this attitude and mindset seemed to leave me better prepared for adversity.

Getting started on a large project can often be overwhelming. The first five-day section of walking forced difficult adjustments that felt more like boot camp than the beginning of a hiking trip. The packs were far too heavy, and after spending summer in the comparatively cool conditions of the Cascade Range, the heat and humidity were stifling. The terrain in Jirisan National Park was rough, making for long days, slow progress and tired bodies. The end of the day rarely brought relief; sleeping was an unpleasant affair, as I stuck to everything--clothes, sleeping bag and pad. Looking ahead to the next two months, I could not fathom doing this everyday. In actuality, this was all acclimation to a new way of life.

When you wake up and hike every day for two months, it becomes something quite separate from a three or four day trip. At home, the scope and length of a four day outing can seem monolithic from a planning and an endurance perspective. But after about two weeks on the trail, we settled into a routine of hiking for five or six days that seemed to go quickly by comparison. The sense of four days composing an entire trip dissolved into the greater scale of the Baekdu Daegan, with any particular multi-day segment completely disassociated from the beginning or end of the whole. On many occasions, it seemed that we had been walking for what felt like a year. Quick memory checks reported that I had been in Seattle just a few weeks ago, though my internal clock suggested that a much longer duration had passed. The reverse effect was also a recurrent perception--sometimes it felt as if we had been walking for days and had not made any northward progress. I have experienced these phenomena at other times in life, but the extent of the effect on the Baekdu Daegan was astonishing. Time is truly relative.

A benefit of having all this time and hiking every day, sometimes through unremarkable terrain, was that I came to enjoy walking on its own accord. Historically, open ridges and summits with views have comprised my hiking motivations. Over the course of this trip, I was able to sit back and enjoy the ride, taking in the quiet of the forest and enjoying being alone with just my thoughts for extended stretches.

Walking across the countryside along a footpath allows the hiker to experience the land at a much slower pace than even a Sunday drive. Yet while travel is slower, the longer duration fosters a feeling of movement over the landscape. Looking back towards where one began and ahead along the ridge to the terrain of the next few days played part in constructing a mental image of the trail from a bird's eye view. This sense of movement--slow, yet progressive motion through the land--brought me a rich sense of enjoyment and accomplishment. Each new section that we covered was added to the existing image, slowly building my own view of the Baekdu Daegan.

Liz handled just about all of the planning for this trip, and as a result I was unfamiliar with almost all of the terrain we hiked through until we were walking through it. There were countless days when we arrived in new territory, and I was so stunned upon setting eyes on it for the first time. My guess is that this is because I had no idea what the land looked likepreviously--it was a complete surprise. On one particular section, it was as if I had hiked three weeks to stumble upon the Yosemite valley, having never heard of or seen photographs of it. The experience was remarkable. Seeing terrain for the first time with absolutely no preconceived notions is something I never intended, but the results were brilliant. I suppose the entire experience of hiking along the Baekdu Daegan is similar. We went out for a walk and found what we did.

Gone, but soon to return

2008-11-03T06:24:00.000-08:00

Seven weeks of walking along Korea's spiritual backbone has come to an end. We ended our journey on October 25 after climbing up and over Taebaeksan, a massive mountain with several ancient stone alters on its flanks and summit. The weather was beautifully crisp and cold; a wonderful contrast to the unbearable heat and humidity of the first several weeks. Having started walking exactly 49 days earlier at the base of the Cheonwangbong--the Baekdu Daegan's southern terminus--coming down to the road for the last time north of mystical Taebaeksan seemed a fitting end. We managed to cover about two thirds of the Baekdu Daegan in South Korea, and are already looking forward to returning to complete the section of trail from Taebaeksan to Seoraksan National Park in the future. Who knows, maybe North Korea will open its doors in our lifetimes as well...

We've spent the last week doing day trips in Seoraksan National Park, returning to favorite haunts in the likable megalopolis of Seoul, and visiting with Liz's family. Lots of eating, relaxing and driving around to visit various family members. Korea has treated us very well.

Pictures from the last two sections of the hike will be up soon.

Expect the Unexpected

2008-10-14T04:33:00.000-07:00

The biggest lesson we've learned while hiking the Baekdudaegan so far is that one cannot possibly imagine what will happen over the course of the day. Every morning we wake up with a general idea of what we might see that day and where we might end up in the evening, but the morning's predictions are seldom correct. We know this, but the flow of the day's events frequently take us by surprise.

This past Sunday we awoke on a helipad above Ehwaryeong Pass, put away our tents in the pre-dawn, watched the sunrise and munched on a meager breakfast of Korean rice cakes and crackers. The previous evening we'd arrived at the pass, grateful that the rest stop on this small, windy road was even open, as we've come to question all ammenities noted on our maps. The rest stop had commanding views of the valley, but somewhat limited culinary offerings. We had taken a day longer than planned to hike this section, leaving us short on food. The three of us pieced together a dinner of snacks and scavenged the convenience store for suitable breakfast items. That morning our stomachs were not appeased by the beautiful sunrise and grumbled about the lack of caloric intake they've come to expect and require.

The upstart of the small breakfast is that for once we actually started hiking before 7 am (instead of just talking about it). This afforded the opportunity to enjoy the cool morning air and the additional beauty of the forests and ridges glowing in the early morning light. As we started up the long climb up from the pass, our legs take over the protest chorus from our stomachs. Our motivation for the day was the little bit of rice, potato, carrot and garlic gloves we had saved for the scheduled fried rice lunch. The three of us are all fat-kids at heart and we've all mentioned aloud at one point that on some days it feels like we're hiking from meal to meal. Early on this day, we weren't hiking to a peak, we were hiking to fried rice and hopefully on to a restaurant in the evening.

We reach the first peak of the day after a couple of hours of hiking and run into the hiking club we met on the trail on the way up. We had missed the proper ridge trail and taken a spur trail that went by a spring, where these guys easily left us and our large packs in the dust. Missing the ridge turned out to be a blessing. Upon reaching the peak, we meet the hiking club again just as they were pulling out breakfast. It's 9 am, but of course breakfast included rice wine and a couple of bottles of soju. We politely refuse their offerings which only deepens their resolve to get us to take something, so from their backpacks--like Mary Poppins' carpetbag--comes a never-ending buffet of snacks that they keep handing to us. First come boiled eggs (Jeff labels them 'little batteries of turbocharged energy'), then a small bag of Clementines, of which we take three and then try to give it back but they won't hear of it. Finally comes a lunch box of little rice balls filled with meat and such. We can only offer some sugar cookies in return. We've been offered lots of food on many summits along the trail--hardy candy, cookies, choco pies, and the ubiquitous yellow wrapped mystery sausage--but this one took the cake. When in need, one is often provided for.

Conversation centered around our through-hiking project, and they eagerly pointed out what we would be hiking that day. In our minds, we were hiking four or five hours (a 'short day') and then would be walking off the ridge to a town and heading towards a much needed few days of rest. We were so overwhelmed by the sight of the hiking club on the peak we hadn't even looked at where we were heading. Our jaws dropped at the sight of the classic Korean painting-like rocky ridge line that lay ahead.

We set off from breakfast and were immediately scrambling over rocks and rappelling off ropes tied to trees. At the beginning of the day, I checked each tree, the knots and the rope then carefully rapped off keeping both my hands on the rope. By the end of the day and thousands of ropes later, after watching all the Korean hikers practically run down the rope several on it at a time, I would just pick the rope up without looking and climb down. The next several hours involved challenging scrambling with full packs (luckily at the end of the section without the weight of food) in dramatic exposure balancing on airy granite ridges. Scenery alternated between the beginnings of fall on the southern exposures and the full bloom of peak foliage on the north sides. Trying to take in all the breathtaking views of the steep exposed granite peaks, amazingly beautiful autumn weather and colors was almost too much to handle while being passed and cajoled by hiking clubs of 10-20Koreans at a time.

One mental adjustment we've had to make on weekends is getting used to seeing people again. Our somewhat remote location and the lack of vagabond through-hikers on the Baekdudaegan means that we see just a few hikers during the week. But on the weekends we see people by the score. It's good contrast and gives a couple of days of Korean cultural immersion. On this day it was a balance between being absolutely grateful and absolutely scared by the sheer number of people trying to pass you in places that didn't seem particularly safe.

We cooked our eagerly anticipated fried rice on another peak filled to the brim with another large hiking club. The smell of frying garlic and potatoes in sesame oil, and our foreign looks draws a lot of onlookers and lots of encouraging (I think) comments, smiles and more offers of food. Koreans know how to picnic, but I think we showed them up on this occasion. Recharged and with lighter packs now completely empty of food, we continued climbing up rock faces and down ropes, stopping at each precipice and cliff to take in the views, let a hiking club pass, and take photographs. About nine hours into our five hour hike, we are completely alone. The rocky scrambling ends abruptly, and we walk down a well built stair case along an old fortress wall and pop out onto a groomed lawn with an old gate, hoards of hikers, tourists, kids and old Korean music pumping out of a speaker in a mountain restaurant. Just like that, suddenly all the ruggedness and exposure of the ridge melts away into memory.

We walk down the road a couple kilometers to find a small cluster of restaurants. We find a "pension" (a vacation condo) which turns out to be a two-room steal with a small kitchen and two bathrooms. The evening consists of dinner at the restaurant downstairs, a hot shower, some hot tea and watching the third Lord of the Rings movie on TV. Not at all what we had imagined that morning, but so completely satisfying and exactly what we needed. This was truly a stand out hike - one of the top ridge hikes we've done in any country - but simultaneously another typical day on the Baekdu Daegan.

Pictures from Jikjisa to Songnisan

2008-10-13T20:40:00.000-07:00

I have found it difficult to keep up with blog posts, journal writing, the 50 or so pictures I take every day and e-mail while still trying to just sit around and take it all in. I usually opt for writing and sitting around which means I lag in other departments. Here is a selection of pictures from Jikjisa, Songnisan National Park and our hike from south of the park, through the park and northward.

Click on the slideshows to see full-screen pictures and captions.

Pictures from Jikjisa:

Pictures from Beopjusa and Songnisan National Park:

Click on the album for captions and full screen pictures.

Pictures from north of Songnisan:

And then there were three

2008-10-13T19:48:00.000-07:00

Its been two weeks since Jeff arrived, and we've covered a lot of ground since our seamless rendezvous in Songinsan National Park. Adding a person to the hiking crew has brought a new aspect to the trip; added a new spice to the stew. There is now 1/3 more food to be carried and consumed, 1/3 more creativity in the camp kitchen, 1/3 more card players (what's your favorite 3-person card game, we need some new ones?), 1/3 more people to bring up the morale when its down, and 1/3 less chance of being attacked by wild animals on a high mountain ridge.

Jeff and I met while working in Telluride, CO as ski lift operators. He's one of those people I realized I had much in common with immediately. We kept in touch over the years intermittently, and always talked of doing some traveling together. Plans aligned a little over a year ago, and Jeff was eager to join our adventure on the Baekdudaegan.

We've enjoyed walking, eating and living our way through rural, mountainous Korea on the first long distance through-hike any of us has ever done. Sharing experiences with others most often enriches them for me, as it provides another set of eyes and another mind with which to perceive the world. Adequately communicating what one has seen and felt is frequently difficult and rarely successful, yet always educational.

Photos from Songnisan National Park

2008-10-07T01:14:00.001-07:00

Opposite problem this time. Uploaded photos but no time to write something interesting for you to read! Literature to follow...

Here are some pictures from Songnisan National Park. We've now hiked some 200+ km!

Hitting Our Stride

2008-09-27T15:44:00.000-07:00

It's been a week since we left Deokgyusan National Park, and three weeks since we stepped off at the trailhead to start hiking the Baekdu Daegan. We're finally settling into a rhythm of sorts -- the pace seems manageable, and we're adjusting to the challenges of the trail. We've established and accepted that our timeline will not allow us to complete the trail at the rate we're moving, and embracing this has brought a sense of calm. No longer are we concerned with trying to push 20 km per day for days on end. Instead, the Baekdu Daegan is the road along which we're walking from one experience to the next in rural Korea.

The first two and a half weeks here were incredibly sunny, but hot and humid, making for great views along the ridge but leaving us spent and sticky at day's end. The last week saw a dramatic change in the weather. Clouds and then rain moved in for 3 and a half days, soaking every square inch of gear not tucked inside our packs, and unfortunately even some that was. The rain was mostly Northwest-like -- light but persistent and often wind-driven. Most problematic, however, were the thick swaths of overgrown shrubs and tall grasses that seemed to be holding gallons of water on their foliage. The section of trail on which we were traveling during the rain appears to see very little usage, or at the least, very little maintenance. This left us pushing through overgrowth for much of the day, every bit soaking us further.

Spirits hit new lows. Setting up camp in the rain and crawling into the tent wet is never fun. We did have a few saving graces along the way though. On recommendation from one of the two New Zealanders who completed the trail in 2007 (they're now authoring an English guide book to the Baekdu Daegan), we descended steeply off the ridge, somewhat reluctant to loose hard earned elevation, to a wonderfully surprising "mountain place" guest house. The Haein Sanjang was built of rice thatch mud bricks and large timbers by on old mountain guide and his wife alongside a bedrock-bottom stream in a deep, narrow valley, and offers accommodation, meals, and hospitality in a beautiful setting. We ambled around the property enjoying the numerous sitting places along the brook and taking in the first sun and visibility in two days. At dinner, there was some miscommunication about whether we wanted to cook our own meal, or if we wanted to buy dinner off the menu. When it was clear that nothing was coming out of the kitchen for us, Liz asked again, and established that we did indeed want dinner. The woman disappeared and 20 minutes later we were invited into their home to eat with them, although the amount of food seemed to suggest that she had just decided we'd eat with the family. It felt imposing at first, but it was obvious from her demeanor that it was not a problem, and we settled into a comfortable, delicious meal in the cozy main room of the home. Breakfast the next morning was the same story. We're pretty certain that this wasn't standard procedure, and were incredibly thankful for our hosts' show of grace.

We left this beautiful place - luckily getting a ride halfway up the road, saving us some climbing - back into the rain. We camped at a pass near a dairy farm, fitfully listening to the rain and the sound of unhappy cows. The rain continued the next day and this time spirits really did reach an all time low. It was a short day, we were again heading off the ridge to Jikjisa temple. We tried not to have any expectations, but hot showers and a big meal (we had just finished the last of our food) were on our minds. We descended the ridge as the rain let up, and by the time we reached the bottom, the sun was breaking. The temple was huge and amazing, and outside of the temple there was a gigantic manicured sculpture park. A lady selling roasted chestnuts sized us up real quick and suckered us into buying a box. We found a bench in the park, munched on warm chestnuts while soaking up sun, all in a bit of a daze wondered how on earth just an hour ago we had been pushing through waterlogged overgrowth.

We found a motel, hung up all our stuff to dry, then set out to check out the little park village full of restaurants, motels, souvenir shops and "supers" (old-school Korean convenience stores). We found one that had Frosted Flakes, so we bought a box and a quart of milk, sat on some chairs outside right by the stream and ate the entire box right there - grins stretching from ear to ear. Imagine the looks from passers-by.

The Baekdudaegan is quite the roller coaster, both literally and figuratively in terms of the trail's endless elevation gains and losses and in it's ability to lift or lower our spirits and deliver amazing delight and adventure.

The three day rain storm blew out upon our arrival at Jikjisa temple, and the next day it seemed as though autumn had come all at once. The air has been remarkably cool and crisp, and leaves are blowing around in the breeze. This is hiking weather at its best, and we were especially happy to be cruising along on the ridge in the breeze with views once again.

Next we're headed to Songnisan National Park to meet a friend whom we haven't seen in 5 years. Hopefully he's been able to navigate Korea successfully without much to go on other than his red hair & foreigner credit.

Pictures from this section:

Pictures from Dokyousan NP

2008-09-20T20:47:00.000-07:00

We've spent almost five days in this national park, some hiking, but a lot of relaxing. We've experienced calm serene mountain shelters and hoards of Korean hikers in groups of thirty or more all in the same day. We've also finally gotten some time by the mountain streams in, in addition to fully experiencing the full on gearhead-ness of Koreans and car camping!

Here are some of our pictures - as always click on it to see a larger slide show:

To Finish or Not To Finish?

2008-09-20T20:22:00.000-07:00

One of the bigger debates Chris and I have been having as we schlep our 16-kg packs up and down the ridge over and over again, with achy feet, while sweating off liters of water is this: are we having fun?

Of course we didn't engage in a through hike expecting it to be like hanging out on a beach Thailand. Chris and I engaged in plenty of what we would dub "Type II" fun - fun that happens afterwards. Things like bushwacking through alder and devil's club looking for snow, or skiing in the rain, or curling up in the public shelter at Camp Muir waiting for the sun to come up so you can ski down on bulletproof suncups. Kind of funny at the time, definately funny later on.

We've been trying to figure out what exactly brought us here to Korea to hike the Baekdu Daegan in the first place. What type of fun were we looking for? We both enjoy hiking, although the longest either of us have ever been out is about a week. We both wanted to see the more rural and mountainous areas of Korea. We are getting plenty of both. But our bags are heavy, it's hot, and we feel like we are making very slow progress - 140 km in thirteen days. If we were hiking the Appalachian Trail, it would take us over 8 months to complete it at that rate!

But this isn't the Applachian Trail - it's a crazy adventure of searching for water, trying to communicate in broken English and Korean, trying to figure out in a small supermarket what on earth you can possibly make for dinner with the goods in front of you, and of course it's hiking up and down, up and down. Plus, we're kind of wimpy northeners and 80 degrees with 85% humidity leaves us confused, sticky and addled. But for every one of those questionably "fun" moments, we've had so many amazing encounters I feel could only happen along the BDDG. Like the many rides strangers have offered us, or the funny scolding we get because my bag looks bigger than Chris's, or the kind offering of drinks, food and candy from many people we meet along the trail.

We've been struggling with our Type A personalities that for some reason feel the need to complete this ambiguous project we have started, but I think reason has won out and we have decided to be slow travellers, hiking as slowly as we need and taking as much time as we need to take it all in. Its likely that we won't finish hiking the Baekdu Daegan, but hopefully we'll have more fufilling memories and plenty of both Type I and Type II fun because of it.

Silence and Chaos in Rural Korea

2008-09-15T05:09:00.000-07:00

The Baekdudaegan has certainly served up its share of rewards and punishment, and the last few days have been perfect examples of that. There are two facets to the trail. Some portions are in the national parks and are well maintained, populated and include services (and available water) at fairly regular intervals. The sections in between the national parks have so far taken us through the rural countryside and hills, where the trail has seen comparatively little maintenance, has much less access to water and supplies, and offers many opportunities for the birth of adventure. Here's an account of one of our days.

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The day began with arduous work climbing through tall grasses and dense shrub overgrowing the trail up a steep grade with poor footing for a couple hundred meters. The sun was already making its persistent heat known at 7:30 am, and the humidity added exponentially to the sticky, sweaty feeling we're wearing like a permanent base layer from the two previous days of hiking in the heat and camping in humid conditions. We'd been talking about how difficult it'd become to push through when the conditions weren't making it fun. Defeat was setting in, and although neither of us voiced this outright, you could read it all over our faces.

Stopped to look for the water source shown on the map in a stream, and again didn't find anything. This is the second water source in a row shown on the map that didn't pan out. Water has proven to be probably the most difficult logistical challenge to through-hiking the Baekdudaegan. Well, geniuses, its a ridge. There's no water on it by definition. Yes, sometimes I'm a slow learner.

Cooked some breakfast and discussed strategy. We may end up ditching the tent and sleeping bags and just trying to hike further each day and stay in minbaks (guest houses) every night. We'd do this sooner but it will stretch out budget. So the days go.

We had some nice stretches of views on both sides of the ridge, and could see back to the south from where we'd come, and further ahead northward. Its great to finally have the sensation of movement along the ridge. Covering ground feels like progress, and watching the country move by slowly is an interesting feeling. Nice breaks with snacks and views in the shade will lift the mood, and things seem great. Then a particularly hot uphill comes along and you want to throw in the towel.

And the craziest things keep happening on the spur of the moment. We reached the road and the end of the trail for the day, started walking towards the village to look for a minbak. Two minutes down the road a guy pulls up and offers us a ride. We squeeze into his car and off we go, with only minimal communication established. He quickly shrugs off our minbak suggestion in Jit-Jae, and proceeds onward through the small village in which we were planning to spend the night. On a corner, he pulls to a short stop, looking as if he's just realized something important. He gets out of the car, sprints across the street and returns with three bags of grapes fresh off the vine for us! More confusing discussion (to me anyway, Liz seemed to know a bit of what he was saying, but I'm totally lost at this point), and we stop in the center of the next village down the road. This time he goes into a bank and brings out three coffees for all of us. Yep, a bank. Weird.

We'd been asking him to find a motel or minbak in the Ayeong area, but he just keeps driving further south, back towards where we started hiking for the day. He's convinced we want to go to the national park where the Baekdudaegan starts. Liz and I are both thinking, "Oh great, there goes today's progress". Finally, we pull into a large building that looks like an old school. Apparently its a restaurant, hotel and bath house. We eat a huge lunch while he explains what he's gleamed of our situation to the hotel proprietor. She seems to understand and appears not only accepting of the transfer of responsibility for us, but happy to do it. After gorging ourselves, and our driver getting us set up with a room, he departs quickly with a smile. We move into the room, shower, do laundry in the sink and set it out to dry on the heated floor, then head outside with beer and snacks.

Sitting in the shade drinking and writing in complete, clean comfort, its difficult to imagine how different the segments of the day have been in only a few hours. The transitions in mood and energy are usually abrupt and dramatic. But the strange thing is the lack of control we have over these changes. We're along for the ride, but we're not always driving this thing. Who is driving this thing, anyway?
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Photos from the last few days...

Four days down!

2008-09-10T18:20:00.000-07:00

We now have four days in the bag - and despite our huge bags (20kg each) we had a great time with perfect weather, aside from the humidity. I'm not going to lie, we're exhausted, but we're having fun! The mountains in Korea aren't especially high, but the terrain is up there with Alaska in challenge. Koreans seem to have no need for switchbacks. The trails go straight up and then straight down and years of erosion means at times you are climbing hand over hand on large boulders grabbing roots and anything that will help you pull your self up.

On top of the physcial exertion, we have the cultural challenges, mental exertion and stress associated with being in a foriegn country. Most everyone we've met has been soooo helpful, kind and generous. First my aunt, who picked me up at the airport, braved traffic and then hauled me all over Seoul to help with some last minute errands, then drove me all the way to Suwon to meet my host family. My host family totally rocks - they put us up for several nights, fed us lots of good meals and then drove us to the trail head and hike with us to the first shelter. Then there have been the countless people along the trail, sharing advice, food and lots of smiles.

Last night we made it out of the park to a guesthouse with the "good cop/bad cop" hosts. One lady was glad we were there, the other we were pretty sure was going to kill us in the middle of the night. But we showered, washed clothes and had meals and beer! Now we're in a large city catching up on e-mail before we head out for another week or so.

Click on the slideshow below to see it in full screen:

Hiking the Baekdudaegan -- Backbone of Korea

2008-09-07T19:18:00.000-07:00

Our intent coming to Korea was to explore other portions of the country that we hadn't seen much of five years ago. We wanted to see the rural country side and experience more of the mountain village lifestyle that is prominent away from Korea's urban centers.

A hiking trail called the Baekdudaegan runs along a series of high ridges through the country, and is something of a spiritual backbone of the peninsula. Liz has done more research on the topic than I, but that is the basic idea. Here is a website that contains some information on the trail, including an overview map and the concept of the Baekdudaegan. http://www.san-shin.net/Baekdudaegan-1.html

We hope to cover as much of this trail as possible, discovering what we can along the way, and no doubt having an adventure.

Blog Updates

2008-09-04T18:38:00.000-07:00

Many of you have asked for e-mail updates in addition to blog updates. We've set up an RSS feed on the site for those of you using RSS readers (think of it like a customized newpaper in which you choose the content - Google reader is a good one to start with because it's easy). Just click on the button in the column on the right to add our blog.

The other way to keep up to date is to e-mail me (lizzyyungATgmailDOTcom) with "Keep me updated" in the subject line and I'll add you to an e-mail list. We'll send out an e-mail with a short update every couple of weeks with what's been happening and reminding you to check our blog.

Also I would love to hear from all of YOU! It's kind of sad leaving home for 9 months so we would love you to keep us updated on what is going on in your lives!

Greetings from Korea

2008-09-04T01:00:00.000-07:00

I hope this doesn't become a theme - waiting for weeks to post and being in a completely different location posting about places I've been previously...

To recap - I got back from Alaska then had a few days to tie up loose ends and pack. Then my dad and uncle came out and we attempted to climb Mt. Rainier. The weather gods did not smile kindly on us and we were "lulled" to sleep in the public shelter at Camp Muir by howling winds and awoke to quite a bit of fresh snow the next morning. The sun came out but the wind kept cranking. We hiked up to Ingraham flats intending to return to Muir and camp out for the night and assess making a summit attempt from there. The hike up to the flats sufficiently scared the bejezus out of everyone except Chris - that and avalanche conditions were more than scary. So we slept in the next day and headed back down - into the rain. So while we didn't summit, Bill and Dad got to experience the full range of what the Mountain has to offer - they can look at is as more bang for their buck! Bill and Dad were both in great shape, and I have no doubt they would have made it up weather permitting so we'll all have to attempt it again when we return! Unfortunately all my pictures are on my computer - because I forgot to upload them before I left, so you will have to use your imagination on what it all must have looked like!

After that Chris and I returned to Seattle and had about a day to pack up before I left for Korea - which is where I am now. Chris will be over here in a couple of days. It's hot, it's humid, there are crickets and locusts (which is REALLY exciting because it's one thing I really miss about the US), and there is LOTS and LOTS of confusion because my Korean is TERRIBLE. Luckily my aunt is about the most patient person in the world (which says alot because I don't believe Koreans are genetically predisposed to that) and we've been having lots of fun running errands together.

Pictures from Alaska

2008-09-04T00:21:00.001-07:00

I have so much more to say about my trip to Alaska, but for now some pictures will have to suffice:

Sea Kayaking in Prince William Sound

http://picasaweb.google.com/ElizabethYung/2008NOLSAOEX1SeaKayaking

Backpacking in Wrangle-St. Elias National Park

http://picasaweb.google.com/ElizabethYung/2008NOLSAOEX1Backpacking

Switch Day in Valdez

2008-08-04T21:41:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here in Valdez right now in between the sea kayaking portion and hiking portion of this NOLS course. I just spent the last 14 days with 11 people sea kayaking in Prince William Sound. Highlights include breaching wales, sea lions, puffins, paddling near a tidewater glacier (and nearly getting stuck in an ice flow), catching, filleting and cooking my own fish (my first!), and of course beautiful beautiful scenery. Unfortunately it rained much of the course - 72 hours straight at our first few days on the water.

Now - after a hot shower and doing laundry (which has never felt so good in my life!) - we will get on a bus in the morning and head off to Wrangell - St. Elias N.P. for the backpacking portion. From what we've gleaned from the group we're trading off with, it's a lot of bushwacking through slide alder, enduring rain, cold and wet feet for 14 days - all while carrying a 50+ lbs pack! I'm nervous!!!! But they said the veiws were amazing and completely worth it.

I do have one thing to say: I'M SO GLAD I SHAVED MY HEAD!!!! Don't get me wrong, I do miss my hair - especially after the initial novelty wore off, but may had it been soooo easy to take care of.

So I'll be back in a couple of weeks with pictures to post!

A summer in the mountains

2008-07-30T12:34:00.000-07:00

I don't quite know where to start, other than to say this summer has just cruised on by and I've enjoyed every waking--and dreaming--minute of it. Ah, life in the mountains...

For those who I haven't caught up with in a while, I'm in my second summer of guiding on Mt Rainier with International Mountain Guides. Last summer I was able to work part time on the mountain while still working almost full time at Boeing. That taste was enough to push me to guide full time this year, and see where this path will take me. This summer I took a leave of absence from Boeing. Well, 15 months actually -- two summers of guiding on Rainier bracketing our travels from September 2008 through May 2009.

The experience has been incredible in many ways, and I can't possibly do it justice in words and pictures. But, I've always been compelled to try to communicate and share significant experiences for some reason. I don't know if I just like trying to share a bit of what I've found with others or if it somehow validates them. One thing I do know is that sharing experiences with others deepens them for me, and that's one thing I've found so satisfying about guiding people in the mountains.

The work environment I've found at IMG is special (not unlike my group at Boeing, but kicked up a notch). At some point in the last several years, I discovered that personal relationships drive me in large part. The people I work with are incredibly motivated, driven, friendly, helpful, have lived amazing lives and they're finding their own way with little regard for what is socially expected. Most of all, they're doing what they love. Joseph Campbell said "Follow your bliss", and I've been deeply affected by those three simple words since reading them a while ago. Its infectious to live and work with people who share your passions and dreams, and are having fun doing it. Mountains, mountain towns and a shared love of the outdoors catalyze fast friendships here.

I've worked with lots of interesting people. Andy, a German guy who was a raft guide and dog sled trainer in Alaska for 10 years and who has climbed all over the world. Ang Dorjee Sherpa has spent his life climbing in the Himalayas (12 summits of Everest at age 31) and elsewhere. Ang Dorjee has a major appearance in John Krakauer's book Into Thin Air. He's also one of the friendliest, most down-to-earth guys you could ever want to meet. Eben grew up in Japan and is an incredible guide already at age 24. He'll probably go on to guide all over the world. Ben is an east coast native who graduated college, discovered climbing and hasn't skipped a beat since. Greg coached two Olympic men's volleyball teams --one to a gold medal--before changing tracks and starting to climb and guide. I've learned so much from these people its hard to imagine its only been two summers. There are a few big names in the guiding world who drop in for cameo appearance trips, a few long time guides from whom I've learned a lot, and a bunch of us newbies. Its a fun time for the new guides as we all live in close quarters. Evenings when we're around "HQ" are spent talking about personal climbs, clients, the coolest new gear (lots of gear envy), the latest health issue affecting guides (BPA-free water bottles, vitamins and supplement drink mixes), drinking beer and managing to cook something impressive with a strange collection of ingredients from numerous peoples' food caches.

Many of us live in a bunk room above the IMG office. There are 8 bunk beds, a couple of couches, a communal computer (although almost everyone has a laptop, an Apple, of course), wireless network, a kitchen, bathroom, and laundry facilities. Its a modest accommodation, but one that IMG provides for us at no cost. This is a great deal because most of us are rarely down off the mountain. The beds are adorned with drying gear and clothing and get rotating use, although everyone seems to have their favorite spot. Even though there are only 8 beds and probably 15-20 full time guides, there are rarely more than 4-5 people sleeping at "HQ" on any given night.

Mt Rainier is a beautiful mountain, and its stature as the most heavily glaciated peak in the Lower 48 gets it lot of attention. People come out here with a laundry list of motivations. Some are starting on a long climbing journey for which Rainier is a perfect jumping off point and training ground. Others come to challenge themselves on a mountain of their dreams for the experience of a lifetime and leave either on cloud 9 or humbled--sometimes both. Still others have lived in Rainier's shadow all their lives and finally answer the mountain's call. I often wonder who leaves the most satisfied. Sometimes I think it is the local who has stared at the mountain's upper flanks from countless traffic jams, country drives and family trips for years and finally feels the need to investigate closer, to see what all the commotion is about.
I particularly enjoy taking these folks up the mountain, and somehow feel a stronger obligation to give them a great trip, to allow them to see what the mountain is all about. They seem to have some sort of extended family relationship with the mountain, even if they've never been to Paradise in their 40+ years of living in Puget Sound. They see it differently than outsiders.

Most people do leave Ashford with a great mountain experience, and are usually pretty happy about what they've done. Some folks show that with good tips, and others will pull me aside and say what an incredible experience they've had. Whether it was the quality of the food they weren't expecting at 10,000 feet, walking across the summit crater above the clouds at 6 AM, or the personal interactions they didn't expect with their guide, its very satisfying to hear that you've helped someone have an experience that they couldn't necessarily have achieved on their own.

Each trip up the mountain has a distinct character to it. We've had some crazy weather (almost all of June) and some great bluebird (almost all of July). The storm in early June brought extreme winds and lots of snow. I was on the Emmons Glacier during this storm, and we spent two nights and days in the tents at Camp Shurman rather than climbing. We spent the first night digging the tents out. I got out of my tent at 2 am, looked across camp, and could only see the top 12 inches of the clients tents. The rest was buried in snow. We dug for over an hour and barely made any progress. Went back to sleep, but we were awakened by our own tent collapsing in on us. Our 4 person tent looked like a 2 person, and it was getting smaller by the second. I was watching the walls cave in on me. We got out and dug again for another 2 hours and built more walls and snow catchment trenches to stave off the wind deposits. The group spent the rest of the day fixing up camp and hanging out in the cook tent drinking hot chocolate and talking about what a crazy experience it was. We didn't even get a shot at climbing the mountain. The funny thing about a trip like this is that people love it. One of the guides says "It doesn't have to be fun to be fun." Climber's amnesia is the only thing that keeps most coming back. You forget the pain and some of it is even transformed into a strangely comfortable memory. Usually all that is left after a few days are crisp memories of the good things on the trip. The mind is truly amazing.

Other memorable trips have included a strong electrical storm during which the time between lightning and thunder almost went to zero and there was nothing we could really do about it.

A couple weeks ago on a trip up the Kautz Glacier route, we did a sunset climb, arriving at the summit just as the sun was casting its last rays over Puget Sound. The moon was full, the sky was clear and the shadow of the mountain was covering what seemed like all of eastern Washington. To say it was sublime up there is all I can do. We camped at 13,000 feet that night, and there was no wind. We could have slept outside in a light sleeping bag.

During one stretch, I spent 7 days above Camp Muir. We call it a layover. I was on 3 trips, but stayed at Camp Muir instead of returning to Ashford at the end of each. Each trip would arrive as the last was heading down. It was like a mini expedition for me.

A benefit climb for disabled veterans called Camp Patriot was held in early July. It was truly inspiring to see these 3 veterans challenging themselves and overcoming obstacles. It was also satisfying to be able to help them out even a little bit -- we dug tent platforms, dug out part of the route to assist their climb and melted snow for water for them. There were close to 100 people on the summit that morning. The weather was great, and it was totally humbling to watch these guys come over the summit rim. One guy had a prosthetic leg fitted with a crampon, and another was blind. There are photos on the website linked above of their climb. On the morning after their summit, two F-15's performed numerous low fly-over passes above Camp Muir in a salute to their achievement. The whole thing gave me shivers down my spine.

My schedule has been pretty busy, and with all the guiding I haven't had much time for personal trips. There have been some fun ones, though. Liz and I skied at Chinook Pass for the first time in late June. Its fun to have a lazy mid summer corn ski day on a couple of nice peaks overlooking Mt Rainier, and be able to hang out on the car bumper and drink beer in the sun at the end of the day. Liz came down to Ashford for several weekends and we did a few nice short hikes that we probably wouldn't have done if we had to drive all the way from Seattle. We sat around the picnic table at HQ and ate good, fresh food -- a real luxury. Its somewhat of a role reversal when she comes down here. I'm usually the one pushing to do some long exhausting weekend trip. This summer when she came down to Ashford she was the one pushing to go out an do something and I just wanted to hang around and be somewhat lazy. Its been interesting to see us in different light.

Preston, Liz and I spent the early hours of July 4th climbing to Camp Muir in a stiff wind after deciding against our original objective. We arrived at Muir at 2:30 am and decided to "take a rest" before continuing up the mountain. The rest turned into a couple hours of fitful sleep in the cold meatlocker that is the public shelter at Camp Muir. We awoke from shivering fetal positions and decided the weather wasn't going to improve so we just headed down the Muir Snowfield. The skiing was terrible -- bullet proof suncups in a whiteout. It was the kind of conditions even an east coaster wrinkles his nose at. But it was still fun. Somehow. Heck, it was July 4th and we didn't have to work and we were in the mountains with friends and we were skiing. Nothing can be better than that.

Just yesterday, Dan and I managed to sneak up and ski down Mt Hood. We had other plans that included Mt Baker, but the weather was going to be terrible. The forecast for Hood was slightly better and we figured we could manage to climb and get down before it got ugly. Well, that almost worked. We planned to climb a line on the north face of the mountain that would test both of us. As it turned out, there was no snow left on the face, and this made a great escape for me since I wanted to back out as soon as I saw it. Anyway, this allowed us to choose a more mellow glacier to ski. Luckily we'd packed the skis "just in case". Just in case came in real handy on this trip and we selected the Sunshine Route up the Eliot Glacier as our new plan. It ended up being an incredibly fun trip. We left the Cloud Cap campground at 1:15 am and made our way up the glacier in the dark. A strong wind made climbing up high difficult, but once the sun made its appearance spirits were lifted as always. The saying about it being darkest right before the dawn is so true in climbing. We made our way through some challenging terrain on the upper Eliot Glacier headwall, cruised up to the summit, and the weather finally caught us on our way down. We had about 45 minutes of tenuous navigation in whiteout conditions before we found our original uptrack and managed to pop below the clouds again. Feeling relieved, we made some fun turns amongst the seracs on a funky double fall line. This time of year, the snow is rarely good, but skiing in late July on a peak I'd never climbed before was definitely fulfilling.

Holy S&!t you cut your hair!

2008-07-19T22:35:00.000-07:00

Excuse the profanity but come on, that's what you're thinking!!

It's late and I need to get up at 3:00 am tomorrow to leave for Anchorage. I'll be back in a month! I'll write more when I get back. Until then, enjoy the pictures!

Farewell Carmen

2008-06-27T17:38:00.001-07:00

Although I'm still at work (8 days and counting!), I think my journey began with saying farewell to Carmen. Carmen came to us about a year ago from a coworker who could no longer keep her. Chris protested saying, "What are we going to do with two cats?!? How are we going to find them homes when we travel?" I told him it wouldn't be a problem, I even called my sister and asked if she would take two cats - who of course said yes even though she was in Chicago at the time, thinking about moving, and has since lived in Seattle, Boise and now Las Cruces- with a large golden retriever I might add.

So guess what? Chris was right (yes Chris you were right). We couldn't find homes for both of them.

And for me that is when the trip really began.

Up until then, our trip was just something in the far off future. Something I made lots of plans for, but in that something, everything worked out perfectly. The cats magically found homes, we had just enough money and what to do with the house would suddenly become clear.

But really, who wants a cat you are going to take back in a year? The sister option involved a couple of flights and the prospect of living with a dog, which I didn't think would make Carmen happy. So we decided to give her a way. I found a her very nice family near Olympia. One Saturday, Chris and I packed Carmen and all her stuff in the car and drove the hour and a half down I-5. Carmen was not happy about the car ride, and when we get to her new home, she further emphasized her displeasure with the move (and by our inference, with us) by promptly hiding behind shelf in the laundry room where no one could reach her.

We left her there, feeling good about the family we left her with, but not with ourselves for giving up on Carmen. I have to admit, Carmen annoyed the shit of me sometimes. But after all the moving around she had done, I figured a 13 year old cat had a right to spend her last years in a comfortable and quiet place. I felt obliged to provide her that. And because I am an overly guilty person, I feel like I personally failed her.

So I cried like a big baby.

Over a cat.

Halfway back to Seattle (still crying) I realized it wasn't just about the cat. Our plan suddenly wasn't as simple and idyllic as it seemed. Everything wasn't just working out. And it wasn't all just fun and games and "Oh la di dah, I'm taking a huge vacation." The reality of leaving my job, my house and my friends set in. I like making change, and I love travelling. But I didn't realize how much of a secure nest I had made for myself in the four years since moving to Seattle. I've been planning this trip since I started working here. I spent a good two years hating Seattle and trying to find another place to live. I've been trying to change my career since I've left college. And now, when I'm finally about to do it, I want to crawl back into my bed and say, "No it's safer here, I may not be completely happy, but at least I know where I am."

Over the following two weeks, Chris moved down to Ashford, all our belongings disappeared into the depths of the attic and the garage, and finally, strangers moved into our house. Haley and I moved into the basement of a friend's place down the street. Now I am getting ready to leave for Alaska and move Haley to her home for the next year. I only get to see Chris every other weekend or so. I'm still excited and looking forward to the trip, but it's interesting, as cliche as it is, that you don't realize what you have until you try to leave it.

While I may not be exactly in the place I want to be right now, I'm very blessed to have had all the experiences I have had up until now. So leaving is a mixed bag. I spend a lot of time dwelling on what I don't have. On this trip I can carry with me what I know I do have. For all the places I'm going to see things I'm going to experience, that one thing makes this whole trip worth it.

"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware."
Martin Buber

Setting Sail

2008-06-18T13:13:00.000-07:00

It's finally arrived. In fact, we're already a month in to it. Liz and I have been talking about and planning this adventure since we first put down roots in Seattle 4 years ago. Its funny to think of it in that sense, because we've never been able to sit still for a 5 day work week, never mind 4 years.

We turned over the keys to our home on June 1st, and had a strange afternoon working in the yard while someone else moved their stuff into our modest abode. Waves of defensiveness and thoughts of "Uh oh, what did we get ourselves into" flooded my mind, and one look at Liz told me I didn't have to ask her if she was experiencing the same thing.

After the initial shock of moving out of our home, we settled into our respective new routines. Liz staying at a friend's place just across town, and me moving down to the lounge/bunk room above IMG's office. They're both strangely comfortable situations, and we're adapting well so far.