Goodbye 2008

Things have changed drastically since my trip to Indian Creek.  Only a short month ago I was unemployed, broke and free of responsibility.  Now I'm working back on the mountain and I've been hired as the sports reporter for the Salida newspaper, The Mountain Mail.  The position requires a great deal more writing than I've ever done before, but I think I'm picking up the style OK and I'm enjoying the challenge.  I also get a good deal of photography published throughout the week.  I just need to focus on some freelancing with what free time I've got left.  

It feels good to be back in a house in Salida, especially after living without a roof for so many months.  The mountain has been receiving a good amount of snow and I've been trying to get into the back country as much as I dare.  I picked up some good equipment this season and my folks signed me up for an Avalanche I certification this February.  My skiing is improving greatly now that I've got my season pass.

I'm sad to say that Maggie left me.  I've been a bit broken up over the situation, but it's hard to be down when I live in such a beautiful place and have a rewarding job.  I'll end this post and this year with a short Sunbeam, for those of you that read the Sun.

"The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one’s own."

Willa Cather

Thanks

Thanks to everyone who came out to the desert this November. I sorted through my pictures and came up with a good selection from the last two weeks. This is just a fraction of the photography that I took out there so if you want a raw CD with all of the photos or prints of something specific please send me a request and a donation to cover the cost. Sorry if I didn't get "the shot" of your lead or whip, I was busy belaying or trying to put up as much as I could. Thanks to Wilderman, Erin, Phil, Jordan, Sam, Talyn, Levi, Dean, Allen and Erik.

For CD's or prints please send a donation and mailing address to:
Kevin Hoffman
522 Chipeta Trail
Salida, CO 81201

Or my E-mail is rckymtntravler@yahoo.com

Indian Creek I

Top to bottom; Slice and Dice 5.12, Way Nutter 5.9ow (above and below), Close Confinement ?, The Serrator 5.11, Blue Sun 5.10

Indian Creek II

Top to bottom; The Serrator 5.11, Allan and Erik stretching, Moon over Supercrack, Pomegranate

Long Canyon

Although Jordan and I couldn't get all the way back to the Maverick due to a large wash out in the road, we side tripped up to the Shipwreck Wall. A long hike led us up to several laser cracks that I in general wasn't up to leading. Fortunately Jordan took the sharp end of the rope.

Ancient Art

One of the true desert classics is the Ancient Art formation located in the Fisher Towers. It consists of four pitches taking the climber up the back side of a knife blade formation that culminates in the corkscrew finish. A pitch of mantel moves up to the top of the tower.

Fall Climbing

With river season wrapped up and ski season just out of reach there's only one thing to do. Go Climbing! The last week of Gauley season was spent in the New River Gorge getting back into shape. After spending about on day at each of the areas in the gorge it was easy to see a lifetime of climbs had been neglected over the previous month. The endless wall had to be one of the best features, with a hike in that requires descending a series of caves and latters leading to miles of perfect sandstone features stretching in both directions.

It had been almost two months since our departure and Phil's suggestion that we stop by Devils Tower on the way back was almost forgotten. I didn't think the plan would ever go through, but after some 26 hours of straight driving from east Ohio we arrived. Devil's tower has to be one of the most bizarre rock formations that I've seen. a perfect cylinder of igneous rock laden with cracks and chimneys. After climbing until dark we were back on the road to Bozeman.

With one person sleeping in back and switching shifts with tanks of gas I'm surprised we did so well. All the same when we hit Bozeman at 3:30am, roughly two and a half days since we started, it was time to crash. The next day consisted of an easy push to Missoula with a quick trip up the Dragon's Back just outside Butte. It feels good to be back in Montana!

Bridge Day

Once a year in Fayetteville, WV there is a more than just a buzz in the air. Base jumpers from across the country descend on the town for Bridge Day, the only day when the New River Gorge Bridge is accessible by foot. During this event the base jumpers, skydivers specializing in jumping from structures, get a six hour window to jump from the 876 ft. bridge. B.A.S.E. jumping is an acronym for Building, Antenna, Span, and Earth jumping. The low altitude and minimal time to release a parachute adds to the sense of adventure. With an estimated 400 jumpers going continuously throughout the day the event attracts a large amount of spectators.

Stuck in the woods

Arriving back from my trip to the DC area things cleared out significantly. Of my friends that came to West Virginia Austin is gone to Atlanta to find steady work, Phil is in Penn. with his father for the week and Maggie is fixed in DC, from which I came. In addition many of the out of state guides have left. With the river flowing intermittently and no transportation to town boredom is setting in. at this point I'm a bit sick of living in a tent and being so far away from home, wherever that may be.

Chesapeake Bay

I was invited by Maggie and her father to go sailing on the Chesapeake Bay during my last visit to the DC area. Having never been sailing before I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but a gusty, sunny day showed a lot of promise. There was a fair amount confusion on my part at the beginning of the day trying get names and commands straight due to not being very familiar with all of the terminology. It wasn't much of a problem because Bill, Maggie's dad, and Maggie had complete control of the boat. It was a great experience feeling the force and power that the sails can exert. This was in part on behalf of the exceptional weather. By the end of the day I was starting to feel the rhythm needed for tacking, or turning, the boat.

Shenandoah

While on the east coast I was able to catch up with my aunt and uncle living in the Shenandoah Valley. I don't think I've been out to see them since I was 15 so it was a great chance to catch up with them. During my stay I was fortunate enough to take the canoe out and go fishing with my uncle Bill. The Shenandoah River is a little bit slower than the other rivers that have consumed my time recently, but evenly matched in beauty. Mixed in with the river's natural channels and ledges are large rock bands built by the native Americans to funnel fish down river into awaiting nets. During our float we chose the more contemporary method of fishing with poles.

Upper Youghiogheny

Last week a surplus of water above the Yough resulted in a mid-week release. The common stretch runs into Pennsylvania, but the technical Upper is located in the panhandle of Maryland. A chance shuttle on the Gauley left us in contact with Don and Audrey, a local couple with a lot of river experience. I was fortunate enough to run the Yough for the first time with both of them. My first trip could have been full of swims and pins on a river that I think would be compareable to the Cache La Poudre only twice as steep and with 40% more boulders. In addition to showing me lines Don and Audrey invited the Montana crew back to their house for a hot meal and beds to sleep in. The chance shuttle we ran a week earlier rolled over into an all expenses paid vacation in PA. Thanks Picture of Alec running National Falls

Gauley-land

I haven't been able to write very much due to a combination of distractions. But, we made it and I have been guiding on the Gauley River in West Virginia. Because of mergers the companies have become massive entities, ours (me and Austin's) employs nearly 200 guides and I've never had to move so many rafts in my life. People from all over work the river here, including guides from California, Colorado, Georgia, Ohio?, Pennsylvania, and Montana. The scene is wild, but still hard for a newcomer to break into.

Destination Lincoln

It's settled, I'm headed for the Gauley river in West Virginia. Although as it happens things have already come to a screeching halt. We left Missoula last Monday with two cars, five boats, and high hopes for the Autumn. Our hopes were dashed in the middle of Nebraska after Phil's '86 4-runner threw a rod and died on the side of the highway. We should have worried more about the chronic oil leak or the maximum speed of 55 mph. Oh well, as it happens we've discovered the lovely metropolis of Lincoln after getting a surprise tow from a Hell's Angel hauling wrecks to Omaha. Phil's new friend "Dumpy" shared with us storied of stabbings, shootings, and hookers as well as inciteful racist wit. While looking for a place to stay we met the "Major", an appliance repairman who tried to sell us on a beat up raft, a place to stay, and shares of a Network Marketing company. The place to stay would have been great, but we were unsure when he started taking down personal information from drivers licenses. We were waiting for him to ask us for credit card numbers when we parted ways. All done and said Lincoln isn't too bad... but we have to get out of here!

Fire on the Mountain

The first big fire of the season came to Missoula and it was a little close for comfort. Wednesday evening it became apparent that there was a large amount of smoke coming from the east side of town. It looked very controllable when first noticed, but within a half hour the fire was raging up the side of Mt. Sentinel, the mountain that borders the UM campus. When approaching the base there were crowds of onlookers on every corner and the fire crews were just arriving as the blaze reached halfway up the mountain. The fire started behind a small park next to one of the married student housing complexes so it was no surprise when the culprits turned out to be two seven-year-olds who got a hold of some post Fourth of July matches. A combination of July heat and strong wind from the west pushed the flames up marring the hillside, but fortunately leaving the residential areas untouched. By the next morning most of the fire was contained with minimal damage, but a great deal of excitement.

Back from Colorado: Continued

Seeing so many relatives in one place was the main reason for my trip to Colorado. The reunion was organized to celebrate my grandmother's 80th birthday. When my aunt's and uncles heard that one of my friends from Fort Collins was going to be arriving later in the evening so we could get an early start on a climb the next day the scheming started. Rumors that Jason, my friend from Colorado, was actually a male stripper or a long lost illegitimate grandchild were spread. There was a momentary look of surprise on my grandmother's face when Jason knocked on the door, but the buildup was a bit much for his arrival.
Our plans were to attack a route up the Crestone Needle called the Ellingwood Arete. Thousands of feet of class five scrambling with a three pitch technical climb right at the top. All of this set in the middle of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The next day was more of a struggle for the truck then for us. Even with improvements the road out of Westcliffe should only be tackled with a 4x4. We were fortunate enough to push Jason's rear wheel Sonoma to the first big creek crossing. After that we walked the next five miles up to South Colony Lakes.
During the walk Jason started to feel worse due to a developing cold. I felt bad pushing on, but the beauty of our surroundings made the hike seem short. Upon reaching our destination doubt started to creep into our minds as to whether the climb would be possible. Snow from a harsh winter still encrusted much of the peak. I wasn't too concerned about the climb so much as the descent. At 4:30am when Jason announced that he hadn't slept, probably a combination of the cold and the altitude, I was still ready to try. Yet that early in the morning I was soon convinced that we could wait. In place of the Needle I summited Humbolt Peak. Jason accompanying me to the high saddle and no further. A few days after our trip a 49-year-old woman out a party of six was killed trying to climb the route that we would have descended. I think I'll try again maybe in the early Autumn.
This summer is starting to look very much like the last one. I'm back in the same house I lived in last summer and kicking things off I took a brief sabbatical to Colorado like last year. Upon my return I started working for the same kids camp in the same fashion. Hopefully I can break the cycle and make some more money this go around.

Back From Colorado

It's been a while since my last post, but a lot has happened. I was called upon to go down to Colorado for a a family reunion. With gas prices so high I was a bit hesitant yet it's been a long time since I've seen my Mom's side of the family. I also thought about last year when I did a similar trip and had a blast kayaking and catching up with old friends. Unfortunately Maggie Couldn't come due the job search. Unable to persuade her I loaded up the kayaks and the climbing gear and headed down south.
The first stop was my Dad's house North of Fort Collins and a chance to run the Cache La Poudre. The Poudre is a small rocky river the runs at approximately one tenth the size of the Lochsa. Not as ambitious as I was last year I only ran some of the more moderate stretches lower down the scenic canyon.
After leaving Northern Colorado I set my sights on the Arkansas River. I had plans to run the Numbers section, but the timing was off. A difficult run of boulder gardens at low water and a series of stacked holes when high the Numbers were out of the question for me at 1000 cfs above the commercial limit. I did however run Brown's Canyon, a step down from the numbers, both in a raft with my sister and some local friends, and repeated most of the run in my kayak. The water level was a bit intense to say the least. Out of the seven days I was in the area the local paper reported four deaths on various stretches of the river. It may have been for the best that I didn't push myself. Continued...

A trip up Kootenai Creek

The other day while climbing in the Bitterroot I was fortunate enough to get pictures of something I've seen only a handful of times. Kayakers running the lower section of Kootenai Creek. I climb in the canyon regularly, but it is difficult to catch the creek boaters going down due to short length of the run and speed that they pick up. The lower section is a class V creek, considered by most to be technically difficult with an assumed risk of danger. This doesn't stop kayakers though. Two years ago I had a roommate who dislocated his shoulder and was forced to swim the lower section loosing his boat and paddle. With the recent hot weather and the high snowpack the creek has been running at a good level for the kayakers. I was content taking pictures from the shore.

LIfe Back in Missoula

Being back in Missoula is going well. Seeing old friends, making it outside to the rivers and the crags and doing the rounds at the graduation parties have consumed most of the time back in Montana. I have however had some small luck at finding work. The river company has a surplus of guides, but the video guy has to take some time off. The pay is substantially better and I'll still get a chance to do some training before the season really kicks off. The rough part is that I need some more experience with Imovie before I get going. My first day of work is tomorrow and coincidentally it is the annual Bartenders Float. If I can survive tomorrow I'll be doing OK, but the key word is survive. Otherwise Maggie is doing some part time catering until she finds something better. The photo is of Lochsa falls taken yesterday.

Salmon River

We've made it back to Montana after a brief stay in Colorado to finish up the ski season. The river company I worked for last summer gave me a free spot for their training trip on the Main Salmon river. Maggie also went due the fact that the price is unbeatable early season. The early season weather wasn't great until the last two days of the float though. This trip was a bit more wild than the last. I neglected to bring my camera after spending the day before we left tracking down a free memory card and batteries. The photo of Salmon Falls posted was taken last year during my trip. In other news we found a place to live in Missoula so we will be staying here for the remainder of the summer. Depending on our job situation we may plan some June or July trips back to Colorado and the Lake Tahoe area.

Hangin´ in Huaraz

Upon return from the Ishinka Valley we got a chance to spend more time in Huaraz. The city has beautiful surroundings, when not enveloped in clouds. Mountains close the town in on all sides and there is a muddy river that borders the south side of the city center. The night we came back into town we were greeted by the dedication ceremony of the new town plaza. Much of the town was damaged and the cathedral destroyed in the early 1970´s by a massive earthquake. Although we were too tired to stay up for the firworks, we watched one of the earlier bands as long as we could tolerate the crowd. This group consisted of fog machine, female singer and male synchronized dancers. The next day Henk and Issy, our Australian friends, invited us to go down to the market. Being Saturday, the market was apparently larger than usual. Sprawling over several blocks there was a wider variety of items than I´ve ever seen together in a market. Along next to the familiar domesticated animals we found mesh bags full of live guinea pigs and in the fish stalls a shark. Peru also seems to have produce like no where else with vegetables and fruits in unnatural sizes, shapes and colors. Henk also found a maker of the recycled tire tread sandals that are commonly worn in all of the small villages. One entertaining surprise came in the form of a couple monkeys that would pick your fortune out of a box for a nominal fee. We didn´t see the pet dealer that soled Henk and Issy their iguana though. I half promised to Maggie we would see the Peruvian hairless dog also, but so far it hasn´t been delivered. In addition to the ugly black-skinned canine she missed a brief sighting of the variety of miniature deer that lives in the national park. Maybe next time. We are scheduled to return to Lima tonight and back home within the next 48 hours.

Valle Ishinka

The weather of the Cordillera Blanca has fallen into a very predictable pattern. Rain every day. The Oregonian is happy here. Our last adventure was in the Ishinka valley, a large drainage about an hour from Huaraz. We joined a new Australian friend of ours, Henk, after meeting him and his fiance Issy briefly during the Santa Cruz trek. We had decided that some company would be appreciated for our next hike and in addition he already picked out a guide. This included transportation, food, and burros to carry our packs. It was an appreciated luxury not having to carry our heavy backpacks, and it turned into a relaxed hike to the base of 6,000 ft Tocallaraju. During spring in the Cordillera Blanca the only mountains that one can climb are limited to a few peaks around 5,500 meters. After shopping for guides ourselves we found that Ishinka and Uros were probably the only cheap and safe hikes to do before we leave Peru. Arriving with us at the base camp was the perpetual rain. Fortunately for us, there was a cave large enough to cook in and during the next 72 hours almost all of our food was consumed there. Our guide Allan was worth his price, at least in the food he made. Lomo Saltado, sauteed beef with rice and french fries, greeted us the first night and it seemed that the stove generated enough hot food to put the cold wet weather at bay. The actual hiking was not so hospitable however. Waking up at 1:30 am Ishinka was our first peak. After the previous week´s precipitation, there was enough powdery snow to make Allan frustrated. We prevailed and were rewarded with a fleeting couple hours of sunlight and a spectacular view at the top. The next day didn´t yeild the same results though. Maggie declined the chance to wake up even earlier the next morning, which turned out to be a wise decision. After several hours of grueling hiking straight up to Uros, it was decided that the snow made it too dangerous to cross the boulder field. The climbing was over before daylight and we were back in camp by dawn. Although slightly miserable, the experience was still rewarding. From this trip we are taking away something very special, a new recipe for oatmeal. Tons of water, milk, lots of sugar, and only a bit of the actual oats. It turns out like a creamy gooey slop!

The Santa Cruz Trek - a muddy ramble

We are now exploring the northern area of Peru, based out of Huaraz. Our first adventure here was the four day Santa Cruz treak, a popular, relatively easy hike through the Huascaran National Park. The most difficult part about the trek was obtaining our Park pass, for about $20 per person. At the Park office they told us we had to have a guide to do any trekking or climbing within park boundaries. Apparently there has been a recent policy change, as of that morning, and a man in a suite and tie seemed quite adamant. After a second opinion, we returned to the Park office in the afternoon. Kevin got a bit argumentative, and through a good bit of persuasion, we convinced one of the officials to give us the passes. He warned us not to tell our friends though. Once in the park, it was absolutely gorgious. Towering peaks, hanging glaciers, deep river gorges. There is a tree that grows here called the queñoa, which has bright red bark that peels off, somewhat like a madrone, and fanned out like an oak. After the first few days we began to understand the weather patterns in the rainy season. Beatiful mornings until about 3 or 4 pm when the clouds roll in and there is a good solid down pour. The weather changed though on our third day and those beautiful mornings dissapeared, it just rained. Now the continuous rain added to all the glacial runoff on the trail, making it a muddy mess. Unlike the States, livestock in Peru roam free, but they roam free in these isolated, contained valleys, so adding to the mud is all of their excrement. This was also the most crowded hike we´ve been on. Seeing two or three groups of foreingers a day, somtimes with donkeys and porters, was a bit of a change. The local attitude was different also. Upon exit of the trek all of the children we encountered blocked the path and told us ¨Basta! Dame carmelo" or "Stop! Give me candy". Also after some elderly women gave us some unecessary directions they required a propina or tip. We´ve tried to refrain from giving charity in the form of refined sugar though.

We are trying to decide what to do with ourselves for the last week. Climbing seems to be an option if the weather holds. There may be an affordable ice climbing clinic just outside Huaraz.

Out of the Colca... A bit skinnier

Five days in the Cañon del Colca and we are both feeling a bit weary. After conquering El Misti and Chachani, I think we felt a bit invincible, but trekking amidst cacti, cliff sides, and swinging rope bridges, we have both been humbled. The five days took us from a low point of around 2000 meters to a high of 5100, with many dips, rises, and dives between. It took a full day to descend into the second deepest canyon in the world. Just like the Grand which we know in the states, the Colca is also hot, and arid. To our surprise and horror, it also harbors desert creatures. Day two, around 7 am Kevin let out a high pitched squeal amidst a spew of cursing. There was a scorpion in our tent, wriggling between the sleeping pads all night with us. The previous evening in camp we heard voices approaching. One word which stuck out was ¨gringos.¨ Kevin hollered back, ¨si, gringos!¨The two fellows, hiking in the moonlight, gave us a few apples, and we gave them a drink of rum.

The apples were appreciated due to our tight supply of food. We debated using an ATM before we took off. Chosing not to, we started the trek with about 80 soles (around $25), figuring around 40 soles for a bus ride back, and a bit for a burro to haul our packs over the high point of Paso Cerrani. In the end, los burros y arrieros (guides) seemed too busy with an alfalfa harvest to help, so we saved a few soles and hiked the pass with our packs in two days rather than one. After hiking the 5100 m pass (approx. 17,500 ft), we learned the villagers probably didn´t want to help us because the pass is brutally steep. Although we saved soles without the burro, we spent them later on buses and taxis leaving us with literally one sole on our return to Arequipa.

Fortunately we carried plenty of dried food for the trip, and Maggie got to eat mashed potatoes for her birthday (mixed down with oriental soup for flavor).

Day 3 of the 5 day trek, we awoke in the town of Miña (where we failed to hire a burro). It is set at the top of a steep river gorge and was misty and cold. As we wandered the mud hut alleys looking for someone named Alejandro Nina´s hijo we ran into a couple of jolly characters. Jolly as in drunk, at about 7 am. They were father and son and we had to turn our heads not to get sick from their pungent breath. Everyone in the town was busy with harvest, except for these two, and they surely weren´t going to get us up the pass. After detaching ourselves from their conversation of slurred spanish (try understanding that!), we started our day late. This is the point in the trek we both started feeling a bit queezy, be it fatigue or failing to boil our water long enough. The priorities of the next few days were conserving our dwindling supply of tp and trying not to think of the real food. Our conversations turned to pizza, syrup soaked pancakes, and even a comparison of the Big Mac to a Whopper.

Arriving in Chachas on day 5 (one day later than planned) we were greeted by very generous welcomers who would have put us up and fed us dinner due to our limited supply of funds. We met the town Father who immediately asked if we were Catolicos. Kevin told him he was Presbytarian, good answer. Next question of course was if we were married, ha ha. From Chacas there as a bus leaving for Andagua, our final destination. Due to our weary and somewhat sick condition, we chose to take it. It was a winding drive through the lava flows of the Valle de los Volcanes. It was one of two hair-raising bus rides that day, the other being the ten hour ride back to Arequipa through mountain passes on rocky, steep roads. Our mothers do not want to hear about it. We are recuperating in Arequipa, somewhat of a home base now, for the next couple days. Then it is off to more night buses back North toward Huaraz and the Cordillera Blanca.

Chachani

Today is my birthday and during the last year I´ve reached new heights, 20,000 ft. Otherwise the reports that Chachani would be easier than el Misti were slightly exagerated. The base camp was at 17,500 ft. which in theory made the climb much easier, but even having spent a couple of nights at 16,000 ft., camping that high was a challenge. I developed a nasty altitude head ache almost immediately which made it nearly impossible to sleep. Maggie on the other hand was out like a rock, until we were forced out of bed at midnight. Although not technically difficult or extremely steep the route up the mountain consisted of a three pass system that required long traverses across steep seasonal glaciers. Waking up in the middle of the night allowed us to cross most of the snow while it was still cold and firm using crampons and ice axes. Our guide, Mikey from Zarate Expeditions chose not to give Maggie an ice axe. Instead he roped up to her waist with a loop around his down hill hand, giving her the feeling of being a child lead by a leash. No sooner had they roped up, just after 3 am, Maggie tripped over he crampons and went sliding down the steep pitch. Mikey braced automatically first on his bamboo pole and sunk his axe, catching her like a pro. She says it was just to test the rope system. The only other group climbing with us were three Austrians and a Swiss. During the previous afternoon the guides went over the predictable weather patterns on the mountain and the predictable habits of the climbers as well. Just like clockwork the other group made it through the first pass before altidude sickness took it´s toll on two of them high on the second pass. One of the guides decended with them and we continued on to the summit with the remnants of their group. The weather also held true to the guides predictions. Just before dawn the wind started making conditions miserable. Frost started creeping out of every crease on our jackets and collected on our hair. The rest of the climb was quite brutal. even with two pair of gloves and socks my fingers and toes went numb. The only reward came during the descent, when the sun came out and we could see our surroundings. Typically the mountains are only visible in Arequipa for a couple of hours in the morning. Chachani was very aesthetically pleasing in comparison to El Misti, with more shimmering snow fields and outcroppings of vibrant volcanic rock poking through.

We´re off to the Colca Canyon now for five days of backpacking.

Monasterio Santa Catalina

The past few days, awaiting an ascent of Chachani on Saturday, Kevin and Maggie have become tourists. Today we toured the 16th c. convent where over 500 nuns lived in complete seclusion. We even saw the little windows where they passed "diverse goods" (probably drugs) back and forth from the outside world. The convent was opened to the public in 1970, and although nuns still live there, they are no longer so secluded. The convent was built of sillar, the light colored volcanic stone primarily from the eruptions of Chachani. Because the old center of Arequipa is built mainly of sillar, it has been given the name of the White City. On a clear day (this time of year in the early morning before the afternoon thunderstorms) one can see the peaks of Chachani and El Misti set in the background.

In addition to visiting the convent there has been a lot of recuperation. Last night we went to return some empty bottles that had been collecting in our hostal for the deposit. The combination of our hobble, due to aching legs and the clunky rental boots Maggie is breaking in for climbing Chachani coupled with the empty bottles made us appear like English drunkards. The first day wasn´t so bad, but a searing pain has set into our calves. We deciced to take a break from Peru because of this and call an America Day. America Days were developed while I studied in Mexico by a friend of mine. Essentially we found directions to a shopping mall- movie theatre and looked at consumer goods and watched an english language film. Unfortunately breaking with true America Day tradition there was no McDonalds, only a Burger King. (I should mention that Maggie declined the fast food, she did however partake in the coca-cola and popcorn for only $2 at the theatre.)

Tomorrow we will try for Chachani with a loquacious Peruvian guide Mikey. After reading another travel blog by an Irish youth about his horror story of altitude sickness and not making it, we both have our doubts. Check back next week to see how we do.

El Misti - volcano lives up to its name

We looked at eachother, curled up and exhausted in our tent and said "wow, we just climbed a 19,000 ft volcano in Peru." That about sums it up. The three day adventure began with a bumpy (understatement) ride in a jeep through dessert grass lands, passing grazing vicuñas (relative of the llama). At the Aguada blanca damn we presented gifts of cigarettes, bread, and a newspaper (it is called a bribe) in order to pass through. After the jeep dropped us in the middle of absolutely nothing but ichu grass, we hiked about four hours to camp in the middle of dense fog, hoping we were approximately at the base. El Misti began day two at 4 am, ascending the steep scree slopes to an incredible sunrise. The weather worsened, and after a grueling 5 hour hike, it began snowing with distant rumbles of thunder at the peak. Better visibility would have been great, but we were still able to glimpse the vastness of the giant crater on top. Day three was a gorgious hike out through terraced farming communities, beautiful blooming flowers and deep canyons to navigate. We are both fascinated by how few people we saw - none, and also by how much trash and graffiti was at the Monte Blanco camp site. There are many resource management issues here. More adventures ahead - hopefully an ascent of Chachani at about 20,000 ft. in the next few days.

Lake Titicaca

It´s been a few days since we left Cusco. After taking the bus to the city of Puno we decided to take a tour of some of the Islands on the Peruvian side of the lake. We went to the floating islands first. Made out of layers of reeds by the Uro Indians the, floating islands typically house two or three families. Being so small Maggie mentioned that it seemed like an intrusion of privacy. The islands have capitalized on the tourism also, making as much money as they can off of boat rides and art made from the reeds. Although in the words from our copy of Lonely Planet "there really isn´t anything quite like it."

The island of Amantani was where we spent the night. With virtually no electricity and no hotels we ended up with a local family. This was one of the best experiences of the trip so far. It was a good look at the agricultural way of life that still dominates much of Peru. At sunset we climbed up to the two highest points on the island, pachatata y pachamama (father sun, mother earth, pretty much). The locals have descended from the Aymara who, through the centuries, lived very close to the Inca and it seems today many elements have blended. Quechuan language, their spiritual ideologies,etc. We learned a few phrases - alli-llanco = hello. yus-parda-sunki = thank you. It was fun. After a wild night dressed in the local clothing, we headed on to Taquile. Similar traditions, great trout for lunch. Now we are off to the arid climate of Arequipa.

Hasta luego!

Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu was an amazing stop, even more spectacular than the last time. Arriving in Aguas Calientes we spent two nights in order to get a full day up at the ruins. In comparison to the dry season the rainy season is living up to it's name here. There has been sporadic rain since we left Cusco and all of the rivers are pushing their banks. I don't remember the Urubamba, which flows along the train tracks into Aguas Calientes, being gentle, but it is a fast, massive muddy Class V+ all the way. Our hotel is 3/4 of a mile from one of the rapids and you can still hear the roar. This is a change from the ruins which are a tranquil labyrinth. Unfortunately Maggie hasn't been feeling well. We've eaten exactly the same things, yet she has picked up a nasty bug somwhere and I'm still fine. She is gradually getting better and hopefully tomorrow wil se a full recovery.

Cusco

The prices have increased significantly since my last visit in 2003. We estimate that it will cost close to $250 just to get to Maccu Piccu and back by train not including Hostal. We´re looking into options for hiking in which may be more rewarding. The weather is a complete 180 from Lima also. There was a thick cloud layer over Peru for the entire flight. Maggie is happy for the change after getting a little too much sun in Lima. The trails may be a bit muddy, but we are going to grin and bare it for the next six days (unless we chicken out and don´t). Tonight we were serenaded by a loud group of andean players, singing in spanish, playing las quenas (flutes), panpipes, drums, a mini ukelele and guitar. Looking forward to what we´ll find in the country side.

We´ve Arrived

After a long two days of traveling we have reached Lima. The weather has been excellent here, 70-80 degrees. Maggie and I went to the National Museum and then to the Miraflores District. It is a very big difference from the Climate in Salida. After getting done on the slopes Sunday we went out to the beach to check things out. Although the weather was nice the Lima beach front is dangerous with a collection of riptides and undertoes waiting to steal one away to the south Pacific. It is also dirty. Lima´s coastal population of twelve million plus has to flush somewhere. The trash was bad, but a decaying sea lion being battered ten feet off the shore confirmed our reluctance to get anywhere near the water. All the same my pockets are weighted down with the cards of surf instructors who swore that the conditions were excellent. The greatest danger so far has been using the taxis and buses though. As I remembered the driving is a variation of rally style racing through pedestrians. We will leave the city tomorrow for the central highlands.

Hut to Hut

We've slacked a bit in posting on the blog. Presidents weekend just slipped by and as usual our schedule was booked. A few friends came up from Fort Collins to check out Salida and Monarch, but to their disappointment there has been little snowfall over the last week and the holiday crowds came in full force.
Work didn't slow down for Maggie or me either, I only got a handful of runs in with my friends between lessons. Looking for a more action on Fridays however, Maggie has joined a local race team. Once a week she races her board down a slalom course set up in front of the lodge.
After things started calming down on the mountain we embarked on our first hut trip. The trip was organized by a some friends of ours who work for one of the gear retailers in town.
I envisioned a select group of back-country skiers heading out to a very spartan yurt, or tent like structure, below towering peaks many miles out, like to ones I've come across in the Medicine Bow Wilderness located in northern Colorado. As the trip approached and plans became a reality it wasn't quite as I imagined. Fourteen people dwindled to seven, the approach was only three moderate miles, the hut was more of a fully functional two story cabin and I was the only person to pack skis in.
Expectations set aside towering peaks did loom overhead and I did get my own back-country skiing in. Otherwise it was very comfortable with minimal risk and good company. With the Lost Wonder hut as practice, next year we may want to look at a different hut trip.

Looking Toward the Future

The weeks are boiling down to our departure and it seems like we have so much to do before we can leave. The ski hill will be short staffed for the rest of the season, partially due to a late closing, April 13th, and the ski school managers can really lay on the guilt. The bright side is that we will have a couple of days of spring skiing when we get back. We have been hit yet again by a storm of fresh powder, which means good runs ahead... if we can get up there. Maggie has applied to UBC for graduate studies... please imagine her in Vancouver next fall. She wants to be a Canadian so badly! Until next week, take care all!

Itinerary

The process of deciding what to do in Peru when we arrive in one month has been a bit tedious. My personal feeling is that procrastination will only add to the adventure, however Maggie reminds me that we should think of small provisions like emergency health insurance and hostel reservations. We are gradually coming up with an itinerary.
The first week will be spent getting away from Lima to the central highlands and seeing Machu Pichu. After that, ideally, we will go south to Arequipa, one of the largest city centers in Peru, to study at a language school for approximately two weeks. There I believe that I've found a climb that will not be too technical or ambitious. El Misti, a 19,000 ft. active volcano two days away from the city, is our goal. If things go according to plan we might try Huaynan Potosi, although this peak, located outside La Paz Bolivia, may be difficult.
We hiked Monarch's "backcountry" up at 12,000+ ft. to get an idea of high elevation hiking, but at 19,000 or 20,000 ft. - Maggie's not sure if any training can prepare one for that! This Wednesday we're going to try to hike Quandary Pk., at 14,000 ft. it will give us a good start.