Camping Gear

Kathmandu Mountain Tent
A 21st birthday present, this tent has been with me for every adventure of my life. Thousands of hours in the sun destroyed the fly, and half-way through the adventure Kathmandu sent a new one all the way to Ecuador, no problems. Free.
After an estimated 1000 nights of use, it was finally falling apart and I left it in Argentina.

Petzel Headlamp
I can’t fathom how I ever camped without one of these. Recharging the AAA batteries while driving was great.

Trangia Cook Stove
I’ve had this alcohol burning stove kit for 4+ years and it’s still going strong. Completely indestructible, I’m confident I’ll have it for years and years to come.

Therm-a-rest Sleeping Pad
A Christmas present to my brother something like 8 years ago, the trusty Therm-a-rest is a must have. I sleep better on it than in a bed these days.

MEC brand -7°C Sleeping Bag
I saw something close to -20°C at Yellowstone in this bag, which I’m still using every weekend, as good as new.

Raichle Hiking Boots
I bought the boots a couple of years before setting out and finally destroyed them on the hike into Machu Picchu after many thousands of hours of hiking. I’m buying a new pair ASAP. (Raichle is now owned my Mammut)

Electronic Gear

Fuju FD6000FD Camera
Four years and tens of thousands of photos later, I still use my camera all the time. Even after a huge tumble in Ecuador, and a large amount of sand inside from windy Patagonia, the camera is going strong.

Dell Mini 9 Netbook
Over two years and a $35 replacement screen later, I’m typing on this tough contender right now. All the connectors and inside are rusty from the salty sea air in Central America, and it’s still going strong.

Jeep & Gear

Dunlop Radial Rover RvXT Tires
77,700km on one set of tires.

Jeep Wrangler TJ
After 65,000km without a single mechanical problem, my Jeep was by far and away the best piece of equipment I had.
By very definition, it was the perfect vehicle for the job.

-Dan

• Spend almost two weeks in and around El Bolson & Bariloche. Many Argentineans want to buy the Jeep, though the paperwork is never going to happen. There are also a lot of foreigners here, so I wait expectantly for something to turn up.

Los Alerces National Park

• Hike to the top of Cathedral Alta, the ski resort in Bariloche. There is no snow yet, but that doesn’t top me from imagining snowboarding all the different features.

Cathedral Alta

• Drive across to Buenos Aires, where there is a solid buyer on the line. I make around 800km three days in a row, which is too much.
• Hang around BA again, moving from Customs offices to attorneys and back to customs.
• Take a ferry to Uruguay because the buyer doesn’t exactly have a “legal” status in his passport, so we head over and back just to get a new stamp in his passport. From the little I see it feels like a really beautiful, friendly place. Country number 17 for the journey, although without the Jeep, I’m not sure it counts.

Beautiful sunset at the final campsite

Things are very close now.

-Dan

Panama Passage is a new Overlander Resource Center, providing absolutely everything we could possibly need. And more.

The courtyard at Panama Passage

Beautiful hotel rooms, camping space, a locked yard for parking, a workshop and tools and a ‘container matching service’ are really just the beginning. Their extensive knowledge of the big city is crucial to point you in the right direction for all your needs, from spares and repairs to pesky Customs and Police.

If you’re headed to Panama City, this is the place to stay.

-Dan

Looking out over Villa O'Higgins

Lago General Carrera

I meander my way North, camping in road-side pullouts and exploring tiny local villages as I go. Arriving in Chaitén I can’t believe the level of destruction caused by a volcanic eruption three years earlier. Locals explain it wasn’t so much the eruption itself (though that did produce enormous amounts of ash), but more-so the re-direction of the river that washed away half of the town. So much sand and ash washed down that the “beachfront” is now 500 meters back from the original line. Woah.

Country living

Rivers and mountains

I camp within site of the volcano, still spewing smoke, though heavy rain in the morning prevents me from hiking closer. Maybe that’s for the better.

Mountains of the Austral

Attempt at The Southern Cross

For my last night on the Austral I camp at the hot spring of Termas de Amarillo, soaking long into the night and chatting with locals and ex-pats alike.

-Dan

Perched on the mountainside

At seven in the morning, still rubbing sleep from our eyes, we find ourselves staring at a glacier-melt river, which, regrettably, stands between us and our continuing path. After scouting up and down stream for a while we both agree to the inevitable, take off our boots, and plunge in. The first couple of crossings through smaller streams are only ankle deep, and actually don’t hurt too much, though the more times we cross, the worse our feet get. Walking with numb feet is not so much a problem, it’s more the searing pain that comes immediately after exiting the water as the blood rushes back. Walking on the sharp rocks and pebbles in this state is not exactly fun and I can’t help but laugh at our comical hobbling.
If you look closely in the video below, you’ll see chunks of glacier ice floating in the river. Yep. It’s cold.

Back on the trail we make great time, though we actually lose the way, and basically make our own path right down at glacier/lake level. It’s amazing to be so close to the enormous glaciers and with Sonny’s huge amount of experience I feel confident striding across the surface of Tunel Glacier, checking out the crevasses he points out as we go.

Glacier Tunel, another giant

At 16,800 square kilometers, the Ice Field is the second largest in the world and I’m completely awe-struck when we arrive at the high point of the ominously named Paso Del Viento (Pass of the wind). The view in every direction is pure ice, with amazing swirls and patterns where it’s been slowing marching on for thousands and thousands (millions?) of years. Luckily the wind is quite bearable and we stay for a solid half and hour, soaking in as much of the view as possible, which is not diminished in the least by the clouds that have been rolling in all morning.

Fine detail of the glaciers

Loving the Southern Patagonian Ice Field

The entire walk down I formulate a plan to re-cross the river, hoping to avoid the unpleasantries of the morning. I’ll admit that simply taking off my socks and plunging in with my boots is not much of a plan, and not surprisingly, it doesn’t help much. After a solid nine hours of hiking most people opt to stay in the night in camp, though for some reason Sonny and I decide to feast on the remainder of our food, and hoof it back to El Chaltén, where we arrive just after dark, extremely foot sore and a little cold, after fours hours of hard slogging.

Glacier Quervain

Dwarfed by another glacier

Needles to say we’re grinning like mad at the last couple of days.

Thinking about the immense ice field

-Dan

All the photos in this post were taken by Sonny. Checkout his blog to see more of his work.

Laguna Torre by night

Sunrise at Laguna Torre

Over the course of three days we hike around the entire area, from Laguna Torre, up to Laguna De Los Tres and the extreme northern limit of the park, before doubling back on ourselves, hiking most trails more than once. We’re up every morning before sunrise for photos and fall into bed late at night after star photography. On the morning we plan to rise at 4.30am for shots of Fitz Roy I can’t summon the courage and roll over, back to sleep. Sonny enjoys the famous “red flash” sunrise all alone, before we hike over 15 hours for the day. Dedication.

Laguna Torre

Cerro Torre (3102m)

Highlights include swimming then sunning ourselves on the pebble beach at Laguna Hija and eating ice recently calved from the active Glacier Piedras Blacas. Although we hear the glacier cracking and moving, we can’t see any action from our vantage point.

Mountain reflections

Thinking hard**

Breathtaking mountains deep in Southern Patagonia. Does it get any better?

The famous "Red Flash" sunrise**

Cerro Torre

-Dan

** These photos are taken by Sonny, using his very tricky Leica camera. Checkout his photography blog to see his amazing photos.

The views around here are impressive

The road chose Jeep?

I’ve switched back over to Argentina, and am still enjoying a great run of sunny days and mountain-cool nights.

Ready to get back into the mountains

Windy roads & mountains

-Dan

The glacier stops here

The size of Grey Glacier

Over coffee in the early morning the three of us are excited by the idea of a rest day and agree to take it easy. At about 9am we hike, sans packs, up the valley to Campamento Britanico and the viewpoint showcasing Valle del Francés, complete with enormous glaciers and mountain peaks. For the first time the weather is overcast, and the low-slung clouds obscure the best of the views. On the way down we stop to “rest” every 10 minutes, dozing in the little patches of sunshine on offer, making the round-trip 11km take most of the day, before more coffee and food back at Italiano.

Infront of Grey Glacier

Hiking around

Anticipating a big one for day six I’m out of camp at 7.30am and make fantastic time around to Campamento Los Cuernos then make a big push further to Campamento Chileno for lunch. Another 45 minutes on the trail sees me arrive at the free Campamento Torres, completing the 20.4km stretch feeling great. The campground is small, uncrowded and peaceful, clearly my favorite of the hike and I’ve just finished setting up by a beautiful little stream when John and Bernie wander in, equally excited about the great hike after our refreshing rest day.

Darth Vader insect

Sunrise in the mountains

On the morning of day seven we wake before 5am, stuff our warm gear into a pack and hike 45 minutes up to watch the famous sunrise on the actual Torres (Towers). It’s wonderfully calm in the pre-dawn light and we sit quietly, anticipating the spectacle to come. Though the sky is perfectly clear and calm a band of thick black clouds on the horizon obscure the rising sun, killing any chance of us seeing the famous “red flash” on the towers. After waiting a couple of hours and seeing regular old sunshine strike the towers we call it a day and wander back to camp.
We feast on our remaining food before hot-footing it down the mountain to the waiting Jeep, and all things beyond.

Clouds at sunrise

The Torres Del Paine, with regular sunlight

A great hike with spectacular weather and new friends.

-Dan

I later heard reports of relentless snow/sleet and nights of infuriating wind, making me more thoroughly appreciate the weather on our hike.

Torres Del Paine

Arriving at Torres Del Paine National Park

Early the next morning I drive into the park and leave the Jeep at Hotel Las Torres before setting out counter-clockwise, taking enough supplies to complete the full circuit in eight days / seven nights.
A beautiful sunny morning through green forest sees me arrive at Camping Setón at about lunch time, and I decide to push on to Refugio Dickson, a stretch where I encounter some extremely strong winds and amazing sunshine while skirting around the mountains.
I arrive at Dickson a little footsore around 7pm after a long 28km on the trail for day one and am pleasantly surprised by the hot shower in the pay-only campsite. The plague of thirsty mosquitos is not so nice.

Setting out to hike the full circuit

On the backside

I lazily amble out of camp at 10am on day two, hiking through beautiful dense forest for the 9km around to Campamento Los Perros (another pay site), near a little glacier of the same name. I really have no idea what to expect on the “back side” and have been a little surprised by the remoteness and lack of people – I had been warned of many hundreds per day, and have only seen a handful on the trails, and about 30 tents at night in the campgrounds.

The campground at Refugio Dickson

The forests of the backside

In the morning I’m moving early with some friends from the previous night and we make good time up and over Paso John Gardner, the high point and hardest section of the trail. At the summit I’m dumbfounded by the unimaginably immense Grey Glacier, extending the width and length of the entire valley, looking more like an enormous lake than a glacier. Hiking alongside Grey for the remainder of the afternoon provides some stunning views and great rest-stops.

At the summit of Paso John Gardner

Immense Grey Glacier

I cook hot noodles at Campamento Paso before pushing on to the beautiful (and free) Campamento Los Guardas for a total of 18km for day three. Sitting above the glacier at the lookout is surreal, and although we hear plenty of activity, we don’t see a sizable chunk break off.

Nice spot for lunch...

Valley of giants

There’s a lot more to come on this one…

-Dan

I’ve been looking into the requirements for selling my Canadian-plated Jeep down here and it looks like I can make it work (legally) in both Ushuaia, Argentina and Punta Arenas, Chile because they have “Tax Free Zones” where the customs & importation rules are different. People are always commenting on how great it is, and how they would love to buy it, but of course none have the money.
I’ll also try to sell it to a fellow traveller, which will make the paperwork a thousand times easier.
In all seriousness, if anyone wants to buy it, get in contact with me.

Jeep ready to roll on

As for what I’ll do with myself after this is said and done, I have some plans I’m currently working on, though I don’t want to say too much in case they fall through. Hopefully I’ll be flying to a whole new continent and starting a completely new (and different) thing…

Right now I’m out hiking one of the most famous circuits in the world and you can be sure I’ll be posting tons of pictures and trip reports for a while yet.

-Dan

Lots of colour on the map now

Dan & Jeep at the very end of the road

Our week…

• Tierra Del Feugo National Park, at the very end of the road where we camp a few days and pose in front of the sign.
• Throwing disc golf on green grass, soak in sunshine and have a BBQ and beers for my birthday.
• Inspecting all the local bars and empanada cafés.
• Towing firewood then Parker on his bike behind the Jeep. (“I’ve ridden all the way down, I don’t need to ride back!”)
• Riding around town on the back of Parker’s bike.

Sunset in Tierra Del Fuego National Park

The whole crew camping in Tierra Del Fuego

Beautiful. And fun.

Fox sneaking around our campsite

Jeep map complete

-Dan

Seth hoping for the best

Seth and Parker grinding uphill

A warm sunny day greets me for the climb up and over the final mountain pass, where I continually stop for photos with the Jeep. Rolling down into town and posing for photos in front of the “Welcome” sign does not bring forth the emotions I thought it might. I feel like I’m in any other town along my journey. Ushuaia itself is absolutely beautiful, surrounded on three sides with snow-capped mountains and the island dotted ocean dominates the forth.

Sunshine and blue skies!

On the final mountain pass

I post up in the La Pista Del Andio Campground and await the arrival of Seth and Parker, which kicks off a celebration of immense proportions. Many times during the night a phrase like “This is biggest achievement of my life” has us pondering exactly what it all means.
In the morning there are a lot of sore heads and confused people, and we tread very gingerly for a while.

Climbing mountains, all in a days work

I’ve driven a total of 55,580km over 558 days. That’s an average of 95km/day over one year, seven months and nine days. It’s really beautiful here, so I think I’ll stick around for a few days and let it all soak in.

Dan and Jeep in Ushuaia, 55,580km later

This adventure is far from over

-Dan

Hey! I'm walking here

Penguins to the horizon

I drive down an oceanside gravel road for the purpose of exploration and find myself at the nondescript little village of Camarones, where I spend the night in the Municipal Campground. In the morning I do a double take when I see the little Suzuki of Rossi and Trond, overlanders I bumped into a few times in Peru. They’ve been down to Ushuaia (they started in Vancouver, Canada) and are now heading North, uncertain of how far they will go. I’m overjoyed to see friends and we spend the entire day, night, and next morning catching up and throughly enjoying the company. They are also a little burnt out like me, and it’s amazing how having people I can relate to makes me feel a hundred percent better.

Just one of the guys

Trond, Rossi, Dan & new friends

Seeing Rossi and Trond is a great boost to my energy, and the information they share about the adventures I can look forward to fills my dreams at night.

I've got my eye on you

Wild camping with Rossi and Trond

Sunset in Camarones

-Dan

Free campsite in Parque National Sierra De Las Quijadas

The views in the National Park

A local guy at a gas station admires my Jeep and tells me about a windy gravel road used by the WRC, just the place for me! The mountains to the south of Córdoba are extremely green and beautiful, and all the little towns and villages are bustling with friendly Argentines on tour for the weekend.

The WRC Jeep - maybe I should enter?

Los Gigantes mountains

It’s so peaceful and friendly here I decide to pass on the big city and checkout all the little towns instead.

River crossing, Jeep style

-Dan

(The WRC road is route 28 from Taninga to Tanti, just West of Córdoba. It’s good gravel with sharp hairpins and nice wide-open fast corners too.)

The stunning Inca Bridge, just near the park entrance

Hitting the trail

The surrounding mountains are spectacular in their own right, though my attention constantly focuses on the glacier capped Aconcagua, constantly visible while hiking the approach trail. I’m lost in my thoughts of a solo summit attempt, and seriously toy with it in my mind. Arriving at the Confluencia base camp (3,300m) is a little surreal, with permanent dome tent-like structures, kitchens, solar panels and even a volleyball court, it looks like just I’ve always pictured a serious mountain base camp.
Well, I guess it is.

The ever-visible Aconcagua

The sun is beating down and the wind howling through camp, making setting up my tent quite a chore and coating everything I own in a thick layer of sand – even the inside of my tent. After a cold, cloudy afternoon of hiking and mountain gazing I finish cooking dinner with numb hands and feet and crawl into my tent in the midst of driving snow and howling wind. For over an hour I curl up in my sleeping bag trying to warm up, my tent flapping furiously the entire time. I can’t imagine what the weather must be like higher up on the mountain, and don’t even want to think about it.

Confluencia base camp

It’s freezing in the morning when I set out for the seven hour round-trip hike to Plaza Francia (4,200m), another camp higher up the mountain. It’s an extremely beautiful day and after hiking to the toe of Glacier Horcones Inferior in sunshine, I turn back and battle a seriously cold head wind all the way back to camp, and down to the parking area.

Sunrise over Confluencia base camp

One cold night

I’m completely tired out when I arrive, and at my wits end from the relentless howling wind. It’s pretty clear in my mind I have no intention of battling this and much, much worse for 20 days.
I’m content just looking at the summit, I don’t need to try and go there.

Infront of mighty Aconcagua (6,962m)

-Dan

Typical North-East Argentina...

Cool rock formations

In Bolivia, Peru, and the mountains of Ecuador it was obvious a huge percentage of the population are trying hard to retain the cultural ideas of their ancestors; clothes, language, crafts and a simple means of living. Not so in Argentina. My immediate impression is the Argentines take immense pride in their Spanish heritage, and live that life to the full.
Every village, town and city in Latin America, big or small, boasts a central plaza, a kind of hub for the town. More often than not I’ve seen desolate concrete dust bowls, scaring away even the street dogs. Here in Argentina I’ve seen the exact opposite, beautiful plazas bursting with shady trees, green grass and plenty of tables and chairs – extremely inviting places to be, and not surprisingly packed with friendly people.

I've wanted to camp in one of these "rock forts" for a long time

This pool is 106m x 56m - good for 1000 people!

After a couple of days of adjustment and a huge re-resupply (at Wal-Mart…) I head back into the mountains and quickly find Route 40, the epic route from North to South I’ve heard so much about. This highway runs along The Andes all the way to Ushuaia, my long dreamed-of destination and seeing the kilometer marker of 4700km is an extremely bizarre feeling – not only am I close and in the right country, I could theoretically stay on this highway to the end.
Woah.

The Jeep high on route 40

Red rocks everywhere

Over a week or so I meander my way South watching the kilometer markers constantly decrease and spend more than a few days in the beautiful little town of Cafayate.

-Dan

Sand everywhere

We soon develop a rhythm whereby whichever vehicle is closer jumps out to assist Rob as the Harley topples over time and time again in the deep sand, or else gets beached on the home-made skid plate. Following the most obvious track and trusting the occasional sign we miraculously arrive in the little village of San Juan, a great rest stop. Just twenty minutes out of town the Harley repeatedly loses power, to the point it’s unridable. Over the course of an hour and many false starts we diagnose and tighten a loose battery connector, to get the monster roaring to life once again. Since sunset the road has become unbearably cold and windswept and even after I put on all my thermals and 5 layers my extremities are numb, and I have a bad case of windburn on my arms, face and legs.
Likewise for the others.
We head back into San Juan and get a warm hostel for the night, exhausted and excited at the same time.

Rob and the mighty Harley

The morning is crisp and clear and we leave town in a different direction than yesterday, on the advice of locals. The salt flat of Chiguana is a great relief after the horrible roads and we can move along at 60km/h on even the worst parts. After posing for photos with the heavily armed military guys in Chiguana we take their advice and turn South, quickly realizing we’re on a tiny track that is seldom driven. There can be no doubt, this is a desert, complete with sand dunes, crazy rock formations and extremely little vegetation in the baking hot sun.

Crazy rock formations in the desert

Using my map and compass I’m pretty confident I can navigate us around and feel like the 6000ish meter mountains surrounding us correspond with the map nicely. When we arrive at the sizable village of Copacabaña, confidence in my navigation drops, and not for the first time in Bolivia I have absolutely no idea where we are. Incidentally, I’ve still never seen that village on a map and have no idea where it actually is. Again, our faith goes to the locals, and again we drive through, in and around an enormous desert, this one packed with rock towers and bright red dirt, reminding me of the national parks of Utah. With little confidence I conclude we’re driving on roads that are not on any of my maps, and we’re happy to pass a few Landcruisers packed with tourists going the other direction – a sign we are probably (hopefully) on the right track.
Late in the day we arrive at Laguna Hedionda, packed with pink flamingoes, and hope that a few abandoned rock huts will provide enough protection for camping from the frigid wind whipping around us.

Younger white flamingo

The older ones turn pink from eating shells

The temperature plummets overnight and I’m not surprised to find all my water bottles are frozen solid, as is the washer fluid under the hood of the Jeep. Early in the morning Rob and I get separated from Warren and Sara and after waiting almost an hour I drive back the 10km, and start to get a little nervous about gas. After scraping over a rock, Warren has found oil leaking from the transfer case and is rolling around in the dust trying to figure out what’s going on. A driver from one of the tour companies assures us it’s just the breather venting a little oil because of the seriously cold night, and we move on, keeping a close eye on things.

Serious isolation

Our days begin to blur, moving from one flamingo-covered lake to the next, crossing sandy, rocky and then pebble strewn barren deserts, all the while at around 4500m in elevation. Highlights include a stop at the rock tree, the stunning orange & white Laguna Colorada and camping at a hot spring on the side of the road. The nights are now excruciatingly cold and the sun blazes during the day, causing ever increasing sun and windburn. The exhaustion and stress begin to tear at us as we’re all anxious about our quickly depleting drinking water, food and gasoline supplies.

Crazy beautiful mountains

The amigos at the rock tree

Without a doubt this is the kind of adventure I’ve been searching for my entire trip, maybe even my entire life. There is no safety net, no room for error – seriously far off the track, rolling with the punches, thinking on my feet, living it to the fullest.
By far the most full-on, out there adventure of my life.

Three vehciles in the desert

Beautiful sky

On the sixth and final day we’ve all hit our limit, physically and mentally. The last liter of water is shared out between us, and all gas containers have been empty for days. Everybody we ask is certain of the distance we still have remaining, though none of them agree. The fear of running out of gas is too great, so we buy more from a guy on the side of the road. Rob doesn’t have any Bolivian money remaining, so I lend him all I have, closing down my options fast.
Further South at Laguna Verde the wind torments my ragged state of mine and I can only stand outside the Jeep for 10 seconds, long enough for one photo. I become fixated on the enormous Volcán Licancahur (5760m), sitting at the far end of the lake and marking the border with Chile.
Almost there.

Freaky Laguna Colorada

Roads of sand

After a stupid debacle where the trucks are separated from the motorbike, I end up driving back around the entire lake, yelling and screaming to myself about the 35km of gas wasted the whole time.
Eventually we find Rob waiting at the border, and we all manage to grin and laugh when we realize we’ve done it. We’re there.

Amazing views from the hot spring

Laguna Verde, with Volcán Licancahur (5760m) in the background

Almost.

-Dan

(A note to anyone attempting this – From the last gas station in Uyuni to the Chilean border we drove 570km with minimum back-tracking and screwing around. It’s another 45km to the first gas station in Chile. Driving at extremely high elevation and crawling through sand and rock deserts decreased my usual gas milage by 25%-35%)

The three vehicles almost on the flats

En route to our entrance point of Colchani I’m stunned to see an Emu & chicks.
Again, that is not a typo. Emu. In bolivia. More bizarre.
We’ve heard over and over the most dangerous part of the salt flats are the entrance points – sometimes with heavy rain they can turn to muddy salt water where a vehicle will sink up to it’s axles. We follow the heavily used track and after navigating a few small puddles, we’re happily rolling on solid salt. Bizarre is now normal.
The surface is extremely hard, though not perfectly flat due to the salt forming hexagon like shapes on the surface.

The amigos elated to be on the salt flats

Salt Cairn

There are heavily used ‘roads’ where black tire tread makes it easy to follow, or it’s perfectly OK to veer off in any direction and go wherever I want. We’re constantly stopping to take photos and it’s hard not to drive a little crazy with the other guys so close by. Some guides point to the tracks we want to follow and we set off, grinning from ear to ear on our way to Incahuasi Island – A piece of land jutting up from the flats where we camp for the night.

Rob & Warren on the flats

The views go on in every direction

In the morning we all smile and laugh while experimenting with ‘perspective’ photos with all the props we can find. Because there is nothing to give perspective, it’s easy to make objects look extremely small or big, just like being on the moon.

Rolling on the salt flats

Our campsite at Incahuasi Island

Sunset over the salt flats

It’s great to have so many hours to really soak in the alien landscape and every few minutes we all go silent and just stare around us, still disbelieving.

Sunrise over the salt flat from Incahuasi Island

The views in every direction

That's one GIANT Jeep

Warren fishing

Throwing the frisbee out here is great fun

Reluctantly, we move South, and safely off the salt flat, beginning the next part of the adventure…

-Dan

Camping by Lake Titicaca

About 200 meters along the road I arrive at the Bolivian side and get things moving. At Immigration I fill out a Tourist Card and am stamped in for 30 days. Next door at customs a friendly guy takes a copy of my passport and registration, types up the Jeep details, has me sign my copy and I’m all done in less than 5 minutes – a new record.
I ask about required insurance and am told I absolutely need it by law, but can only buy it in La Paz, about 150kms away. I should drive very carefully from here to there though, because there will be serious problems if I get in an accident without insurance. To ward off Police bribes I should just show my Peru insurance (actually from Ecuador), because they won’t know the difference!
I leave smiling and shaking my head at the same time.

Welcome to Bolivia

At the actual boom-gate two customs/military guys look over my papers before we walk together to their office to stamp and sign things before they’ll let me through. One of them is not happy about the crack in my windshield, telling me it’s illegal in Bolivia and he simply can’t let me pass. I explain I’ve been trying to buy a new one ever since Ecuador, but can’t find just the right glass. The Jeep needs a perfectly flat piece of glass, you see, and they just don’t have them around here.
He’s quite shocked by my completely made-up explanation and can’t do anything other than let me through.

I’ve been playing this game so long, I think I’m getting too good.

I drive ahead into Bolivia, without the border guards so much as glancing at anything inside the Jeep. Just past Copacabana is a Police checkpoint where they “register” vehicles by checking that papers and drivers licenses match. After stamping my papers the officer says I need to pay 10 Bolivianos (about $USD 1.50), which I’m of course happy to do, if he’ll just provide a receipt.
Surely, you guys are the Police, this is an official charge, there must be an official receipt?
He mumbles something to himself, so I take my papers and walk out.
I do, however, pay the 20 Boliviano “Copacabana Tourist Fee” that I’ve been warned about, which does come with an official receipt.

The floating pile of boards I caught across Lake Titicaca

By the second Police checkpoint I’m already familiar with the process, and it is reassuring that if someone stole the Jeep they would not get far at all. Interestingly a couple of the younger guys point out a sign showing I need two emergency triangles, a first aid kit and fire extinguisher to drive in Bolivia. I genuinely think they’re pointing it out because they want to make sure I am somewhat prepared for the roads that lie ahead, not because they want to bribe me.
When I’m about to leave the older officer says I can pay a “voluntary” charge of 10 bolivianos for the stamp he just gave me. He says this in very roundabout Spanish, so I play the “I don’t understand” game for a minute or two before he is so sick of me he shoos me out the door in disgust.

A little further on a huge group of Land Cruisers, Pajeros and Pathfinders with lift-kits, big wheels, spotlights, winches and more lead me to think I’ve bumped into a 4×4 club on a tour.
On closer inspection it turns out they are just taxis waiting for a fair. Oh.

Something tells me I’m about to find some pretty serious roads…

-Dan

The owner of the campsite has this little guy

I set out early one morning and drive through The Sacred Valley, passing Pisac, Ollantaytambo, Santa Maria and along a very narrow little track to the village of Santa Teresa. I’m amazed at the dense jungle and feel like I’m right back in Central America – complete with torrential rain, humidity and thick clouds of ferocious biting insects. I camp for the night at the “Inka Tour Hospedaje” where the friendly owner charges next to nothing and lets me park the Jeep while I go hiking for a few days. Walking the 40 minutes at dust to the Hot Springs near town is very worthwhile – an evening soak with just a couple of other people.

The remote road to Hydroelectrica

In the morning I hike two hours along a windy gravel road to Hydroelectrica, the heat and humidity climbing steadily the entire time. This is actually the last stop on the famous railway, and while I could catch a train for USD$8, I opt to walk the tracks for a further two hours to Aguas Calientes. Impressively, Machu Picchu Mountain is directly in front of me for most of the hike, and ruins are visible high above on Wayna Picchu to the left.

"Please, walk on the tracks"

The town of Aguas Calientes is the very definition of a tourist trap, everything is over-priced about 400% and we are all quite literally stuck there for the night. After meeting up with a few friends and grabbing a “happy hour” beer we can’t help but make fun of the advertising – people are trying to lure us in left and right, we’re even told it’s 6-for-1 drinks right now. Upon closer investigation it’s nothing of the sort, and even the Argentineans with perfect Spanish can’t get the proprietor to explain how it even remotely resembles the claimed 6-for-1.
The beer is expensive, cold and great

Jungle and train tracks

I’m up at 4am in the morning, not content to pay the USD$8 one-way for the bus to the actual site of Machu Picchu. About 50 people have opted to walk the very steep ascent, which takes around 90 minutes. When I arrive soon after 5am I’m about the 15th person in line, clearly guaranteed to get the all-importatnt stamp to climb Wayna Picchu, of which there are only 400 issued each day.

Amazed to be there

Seeing the site for the first time is surreal, compounded by the fact I am one of the first through the gate, so there is not a single person wandering the ruins. Staring for half an hour does little to change my feeling of disbelief. Over the course of the day I hike up the nearby Wayna Picchu Mountain where the views are spectacular, hike the final section of The Inca Trail to Intipunku (The Sun Gate) and finally hike up Machu Picchu Mountain for superlative views of the whole area.

Climbing to Wayna Picchu

The view from Wayna Picchu

By the end of the day I am extremely hungry and thirsty, though not willing to pay the outrageously inflated prices for food and water on the mountain. I walk back down to Aguas Calientes, drink two liters of expensive water and collapse after a very big day.

The view from Intipunku (The Sun Gate) Inca Trail on left

The superlative view from Machu Picchu Mountain

For my final day I’m on the trail at 5.30am, hike the four hours back to Santa Teresa, then jump in the Jeep to drive the six hours back to Cuzco. Another big day.
Extremely tired and foot-sore I find the energy to walk into town and I’m pretty sure I make money at the USD$5 buffet.

The stonework is extremely precise

-Dan

• Driving through a heavy snowstorm near Cerro de Pasco. For the first time I see Peruvians drive with anything resembling restraint or diligence.

• Watching an enormous thunderstorm roll right in front my campsite, with a beautiful sunset as the backdrop.

Sunset in the mountains

• Wandering into a shopping centre in Huancayo that is bigger, brighter and all-round ‘more’ than anything I’ve seen before. These guys have copied the North American model to the letter, complete with suits walking around taking copious notes about everything and anything. My appearance is apparently significant, as they all go crazy writing and following me around to see where I go.

• Randomly meeting a friendly local in Ayacucho, hanging out with him all day and having a great night with all his friends. Staying at the ‘Discoteca’ until 3.30 necessitates an extra day in Ayacucho.

Just another Peruvian highway...

• Seeing Peruvian road construction in full-scale action – I know this doesn’t sound like much, but it really is a sight to see. Around 100km at a time is worked on, and each corner I round I see at least a hundred workers digging, drilling and jack-hammering, not to mention the hundreds of pieces of heavy machinery of all kinds. In a few hours I see tens of thousands of Peruvians working hard to surface these crazy mountain roads. And the best part of all? The entire area is lit, so work continues 24 hours a day.

• Discovering my camp stove gets hot enough to cook popcorn. I see a lot of popcorn in my future.

I arrive in Cuzco right on sunset and find my way to the amazing Quinta Lala campground, essentially dedicated to overland travelers. Checkout their Previous Visitors page to get an idea of the kind of vehicles people are driving around down here. With wifi, a laundry, kitchen, dry area for camping and plenty of green grass only 15 mins walk from the center of town it’s going to be hard to leave.

Cuzco

Jeep in the main square of Cuzco

-Dan

Day 5 – 500 meter ascent / 400 meter decent / xx km / 5 hrs
Very low cloud & overcast in morning, away at 7am. Cruise up to pass (Portachuelo de Huayhuash, 4750m), snowing at top and quickly very cold. Arrive at hotsprings at 12, light rain. Soak all afternoon, then explore. LOTS of hot water around. Nighttime soak. Into bed very warm.
Short, easy day.

Cloudy start in the morning

The campsite at the Huayhuash hotsprings

The Huayhuash hotsprings

Tons of hot water in valley

Day 6 – 525 meter ascent / 500 meter decent / xx km / 5 hrs
Almost all blue sky at 6am – move! On trail at 7.10am. Slow and steady to Punta Cuyoc (5000m), highest on trail. Feel much better. Pack lighter, moving very well. Only short rests now. View from top amazing, a little cloudy. Cut day short, camp ready to hike to Mirador San Antonio first thing.
Again very short, easy day. I feel good.
Camping alone. Solitude is BIG here.

Extremely close to Cuyoc

Up hight on Punta Cutoc (5000m)

Solitary camping under Cuyoc

The Guanacpatay valley, where I camped

-Dan

Day 3 – 570 meter ascent / 960 meter decent / xx km / 9 hrs
Up early. Less ice on tent. Away at 6.50am. 2hrs 20 mins to top of pass (4685m). Pack feels better – lighter and re-arranged. Take short-cut, arrive at Laguna Mitacocha, finish for day, at 11.30am. Decided not to cook lunch from now on, possible fuel shortage. F**k it, keep going. Another pass (Carhuac 4650m), 4 more hours. Extremely slow. Arrive at Laguna Carhuacocha after 9 hours, setup tent in rain / sleet. Crawl inside, wet, muddy and exhausted & find big bloodstains on both socks.
Damn.
Old boots rubbing badly. Eat two Oreos to cheer up. After fixing feet (wash, dry, disinfect, cover, dry socks) eat two more.
Oreo ration for tomorrow gone.

There's a hotspring in this valley... somewhere

The cloudy campsite at Laguna Carhuacocha

Day 4 – 500 meter ascent / 200 meter decent / xx km / 7.5 hrs
Heavy rain overnight & very overcast morning, slow start. Away at 8am. Walk down valley with most active glaciers I’ve ever seen, cracking and avalanching. Sounds like a jet flying overhead. Past beautiful lakes (Lagunas Siula & Quesillococha) to highest pass yet (4800m). Extraordinarily slow going up, am proud to be only 5 mins behind guys wearing day packs. Mind-blowing views of Yerupajá (6634m) and Siula Grande (6344m). Beautiful sunny spot for lunch (still no cooking). Can walk almost normal speed now on flat, still painfully slow up and down. Soak in afternoon sun at Huayhuash campsite (3.30pm). Throughly warm up & dry out. Sunset unbelievable.
Feet same.

Enormous Yerupaja (6635m)

Laguna Siula

Laguna Siula HDR

Another enormous glacier

Loving the glacer views

Glaciers, glaciers everywhere

These glaciers are very active

Sunset over Huayhuash

Sunset over the Huayhuash campsite

-Dan

I have to give this a try!

The hike is commonly organized in a group of about ten people, with a guide, cook, donkey train and enough gear and food to supply a small army. During the day hikers only wear a small day pack, all meals are cooked and tents are even setup by the guides.
As you might have guessed, this is not my style at all. For me, the only way is with everything on my own back, completely solo.

After a few days resting and gearing up in Huaraz, I wind along bumpy mountainous roads to the tiny town of Llamac, both the start and end point of the hike. I park the Jeep in a secure lot and camp on the town soccer field for the night, organizing and re-organizing my gear, barely able to contain my excitement.

——-

Here I record the notes I scrawled at the end of each day before crawling into my sleeping bag…

Day 1 – 1000 meter ascent / 250 meter decent / xx km / 6.5 hrs
On trail at 8.30am. 1000m climb to Pampa Llamac Pass with heaviest pack of life. Food for 10 days. Very hot, dry canyon with sunburn and cacti. Camp at beautiful lake (Laguna Yahuacocha). Get good info from couple just finishing. Discover hole in Thermarest in the night, wake 5 times to blow it up.
Damn cacti.

The Llamac valley

View from the Pampa Llamac Pass (4300m)

Campsite at Laguna Yahuacocha

Laguna Yahuacocha at sunrise

Reflections on Laguna Yahuacocha

Day 2 – 700 meter ascent / 550 meter decent / xx km / 7 hrs
Thick ice on tent at 6am, walking at 7. 700m climb first thing, above a glacial lake (Laguna Solteracocha). Very hard and slow going. Legs and back very sore. Punta Rondoy (4750m) beautiful. Very slow down. LONG walk down valley after lunch, small concern when km markers on road don’t match, 10 mins later at Matacancha campsite (2pm). Lots of time left in day. No energy.
Big group of Israelis arrive with all the gear, who will be shadowing me from now on.

View from Punta Rondoy (4750m)

Glacial views

Infront of Ninashanca (5607m)

Matacancha campsite, day 2

-Dan

Jeep and Huascarán (6768m), Peru's tallest mountain

Mountain views

The following morning I hike for six hours up to Punta Yanayacu (4850m), just to enjoy the view, before coming back down and camping another night in the middle of nowhere.

The view from Punta Yanayacu

My campsites are getting more beautiful by the day

The little valley I called home for a couple of days

-Dan

My campsite below Laguna 69

Laguna 69 with Chacraraju (6001m) behind

Mountains in all directions

Huandoy (6000m) on the left, Pisco (5752) and the Peru Refuge

More mountains

Having a good look at Peru's tallest mountain, Huascaran (6768m)

My submission for craziest switchbacked road

Glacier-melt rivers are in all directions

-Dan

The mountains around Parón

And more mountains

After a steep, bumpy hill climb I reach Laguna Parón, 4185 meters above sea level. It’s a beautiful glacier-fed lake and I enjoy the hike down to the end and back so much I decide to camp the night. In the morning, the mountain at the end of the lake, Piramide (5885m) is extremely clear and looks to be smoking (it’s not).

Laguna Parón and Piramide (5885m)

The views around the Cordillera Blanca are jaw-dropping, so I think I’ll let the photos do the talking for a while.

My HDR attempt at the lake

-Dan

The enormous perimeter wall

The grand entrance of kuélap

I spend about three hours wandering around, at first in awe of the massive perimeter wall, then the tiny detail on the house buildings. Excavation and restoration work is still underway and it’s especially cool to see the sections that have been restored alongside the original decaying ruins.

Working on the wall

A house building

All the employees are extremely friendly and happy to chat about anything and everything. It’s obvious they are very proud of the city and the work being done there, and rightly so. I wind up having lunch with a bunch of the workers and it’s really interesting to see more of what goes on ‘behind the scenes’. About 10 ladies are painstakingly cleaning, sorting, labeling and boxing everything unearthed, from tiny fragments of pottery to entire human skulls.

The unrestored sections are really cool to see

The setting high in the mountains is unbelievable

After I’ve climbed under, over and around everything in site I camp in the parking lot, a grassy area high on the mountainside where I watch both sunset and sunrise – beautiful.

Two snakes carved into the rock

Lots of houses in the middle part

-Dan

Amazing morning views

After we all thaw out for the morning, the activities for the day start to take shape – everyone is extremely excited to go for a hike to find Chiwilas – an extremely sweet fruit that will take some getting, I’m told.
We’ve only been going for 20 minutes when a hilarious game of horse and bull breaks out, based around an old bull horn found on the ground. Kids ride on the shoulders of an adult and someone gives chase pretending to be a bull holding the horn on their head. An hour and a half later the game continues, even after we’ve hiked many kilometers over difficult terrain, everyone still smiling and laughing whenever the “bull” spontaneously decides to give chase.

The whole camping crew

Over the mountains and far, far away we arrive at our destination – a scrubby outcrop of brush and trees, rare at this elevation. Everyone dives right in, attacking cacti left right and centre. It turns out the highly sought after Chiwilas are the tiny fruit of the cactus which grow right down in the middle, past all the spiny leaves. With only my bare hands and a small stick, I quickly wind up with fingers full of spines and no desire at all to get more Chiwilas, which I’m not all that impressed with anyway (they’re extremely small and contain barely a drop of sweet nectar after biting through the pulp-like crust). I nap under a tree and can’t believe my eyes two hours later when everyone is still energetically going at it, lugging around sacks full of the tiny fruit. Even after my little nap I’m exhausted on the walk back, though none of the locals show any sign of fatigue, happily eating left-over potatoes retrieved from coat pockets and drinking out of every muddy ditch we come across.
Lunch, as you might guess, is rice and potatoes, now that we’re run out of trout.

Cotopaxi from an angle I've never seen before

I’m struck time and time again by how happy and playful these Ecuadorians are. Not just the kids either, even the adults get right in on the fun. Even after cramming into a car for a long, bumpy ride, eating the same plain food for every meal, sleeping in freezing conditions, traipsing for hours through mud and drinking out of muddy streams, every single person is still beaming, extremely happy to be surrounded by family doing exactly as they please.

Always happy

The guys illustrate this perfectly by donning moss for their best Gandalf impersonations – much to the delight of everyone.

The "Mountain Men" having fun

I know for sure now I’m ready to get back out in the wilderness for some serious camping & hiking.

-Dan

Living in the middle of nowhere

A few weeks ago Omar, one of the local guys working here, invited me on his annual family camping trip and needless to say I was jumping out of my skin to go. At first we thought I would ride along in his Land Crusier, but when I suggested bringing the Jeep along he couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. Ecuadorians seem to love my little Jeep, and are constantly asking for rides or trying to buy it (for considerably more than I paid for it, too). Pretty soon everyone, including more kids than I can count, are loaded up and we move off for the first leg of our journey into the National Park.

The camping crew

I’ve been gazing at Cotopaxi Volcano day and night for three months now, and even that doesn’t prepare me for just how mighty it really is up-close. For an hour or so we drive across, around and in-between enormous lava flows and house-sized volcanic red boulders, making me feel like the little Martian rover navigating alien rocks on a ridiculous scale.

I’m told that dinner for the night is fresh trout. So fresh are these trout, in fact, they are still happily swimming in the river avoiding our baited hooks. After about 3 minutes of impatient watching Omar says “I have a better system for fishing”. When electrical leads materialize, my suspicions of delinquency are confirmed and I can’t help but join in the laughter. Huge amounts of steel-wool are wrapped around the end of two sticks, wires are twisted around each ball of steel and the whole lot is plugged into an inverter connected to the battery of Omar’s truck. Pretty quickly I find myself “bag man” – standing in the knee-deep river, just down-stream of Omar who has both sticks in the water, eagerly hunting out fish in the reeds. The second the current is switched-on, small trout float to the surface, momentarily stunned. The fast-flowing river makes them pretty tough to catch and the ladies on shore constantly scream “Dan!”, “Dan!”, especially when I miss one. Apparently I ask too many questions about how strong the current is, so Omar happily demonstrates by bringing the sticks within a meter of my submerged hands. Snatching my hands out of the water causes everyone to burst out laughing once again. I happily confirm my long-believed notion that rubber gumboots make excellent insulators.

Fishing system

For a reason I never quite discover the whole exercise is conducted as fast as we can possibly run upstream catching fish, run back to move the truck, yell back and forward about something or other and repeat. I think it’s just more fun this way.
About an hour later we have a collection of trout large enough to satisfy the ladies, and Omar beams when I mention this is illegal in my country, “Here too”.

As we climb higher the road deteriorates until we are guessing our way across green highland fields, pocketed with mud and swamp-like areas. Inevitably Omar’s overloaded Land Cruiser gets stuck up to the axles, only 100 meters from our destination. One of the other trucks is hooked-up, and a lot of wheel spinning and engine revving only results in the Cruiser sinking lower in the muck. An earlier mud patch / river crossing showed the Jeep to be a tough contender, so everyone suggests I give it a go. At just over idle in low-range 4×4, with an absolute minimum of fuss the Jeep easily hauls out the Cruiser, much to the delight of everyone present who gather around and start referring to the Jeep as “El Tractor”.
I look up pride in the dictionary.

Full of pride

Our destination for the night is a farmhouse built entirely from mud bricks by Omar’s uncle 55 years ago. It’s perched 50 meters up the foothills of Volcán Kilindaña, providing amazing views over the alpine meadow below, of which Omar’s uncle runs cattle on his 50 hectares. Within five minutes of our arrival we tuck into a lunch of rice, potatoes and chicken, quickly followed by trout soup with rice and potatoes.

Living wild

The afternoon’s activities involve more legally dubious activities, the details of which I’ve sworn to secrecy. I will say it was a lot of fun

Don't ask why I have a shotgun. It's just best that way.

In the evening I’m amazed to see the gender lines drawn so quickly and clearly. The ladies huddle inside to cook dinner on an open fire with little more than an iron pot and wooden spoon. The fire, lit in the middle of the room on the mud floor, has no chimney or ventilation of any kind, choking the entire room with smoke and causing my eyes to burn furiously and tears to streak down my face. Amazingly, the ladies are laughing and smiling as they stand in a circle and lean right over to stir dinner.
The men stand outside drinking beer and aguadente, and extremely strong, crude liquor made from sugar cane, following the world-wide tradition of fermenting anything and everything possible. There is much joke-telling, talk of ladies and finally even a guitar is produced for some drunken sing-alongs. Long after dark, when the cold finally overtakes our festive mood, we move inside and perch in dark corners to eat our dinner of friend trout, rice and potatoes.

Dwarfed by Volcán Kilindaña

I have no idea what time it is when I worm deep into my sleeping bag and slowly drift off to sleep listening to the sound of complete silence.

-Dan

With the help of a ton of different people I’ve recently managed to get a variety of different relief packages sent to me. Every single package had me giddy with excitement as I tore it open to find new treats:

• New bank cards & needed paperwork.

• A new sleeping bag liner.

• Replacement tent poles.

• A new tent fly (it’s 7 years old and falling apart from the hours in the sun).

• Pieces for the clunky 4×4 shifter in the Jeep.

I want to send a huge, huge thanks to all the people who sent the packages:
Melissa in Canada, Mum & Dad in NYC, Brendan in Canada, Jayna at Kathmandu tents, Mark in New Zealand and Nate from JeepForum.com

-Dan

Parque National Llanganates

I pay $5 for entry and am told I can go anywhere I like, for as long as I like, hiking and camping my little heart out. Sweet. Upon arrival at Laguna Pisayambo I find it fenced and guarded, apparently because it’s an important hydro-electric generating station. My Spanish is clearly getting better as I not only convince the guard to let me in without a permit, I soon find myself hanging out in the guard shack chatting away. The two guards are posted here for five days at a time and obviously enjoy the distraction I provide. Over the next two days we go hiking and fishing, cook together, watch movies and talk for hours about all kinds of varied topics.

My campsite at Laguna Pisayambo

My arrival in Baños is on a beautiful sunny Sunday, the first time I can remember seeing sun worthy of shorts and flip-flops in more than two weeks. The town itself is absolutely packed with Ecuadorian tourists and I have a blast walking around checking out all the stalls and people watching for a few hours. After getting the scoop from the tourist information center I head up into the mountains directly behind town to find Casa Del Arból, a beautiful grassy area with a stunning view where I setup camp for a few days. Tons of Ecuadorians visit throughout the afternoon and I have a great time chatting to some university students, they speak English and I Spanish.

My campsite at Casa Del Arból

I head off the next morning for the the scenic drive down to Puyo, on the edge of the Amazon jungle. The road winds along a huge gorge carved by the Rio Pastaza in spectacular fashion – there is an enormous waterfall every few hundred meters dropping to the river far below. In about five places huge tunnels, up to 900 meters long, have been carved into the rock for the highway to pass through. Trying to get the best views of the river and waterfalls I take the much narrower track perched literally on the edge of the gorge. At one point I drive directly through a sizable waterfall which drops directly onto this track. The town of Puyo brings back memories of coastal Colombia and Panama – extremely hot, busy, and in various states of decay.

Jeep getting in on the waterfall action

Infront of some pretty mighty falls

I have half a mind to hike a good way up the now very active Volcán Tungurahua, which caused the evacuation of 20,000 residents in 1999 and has been on Yellow Alert ever since. After going only a short distance I am quickly deterred when I discover there really is no trail up my side and the thick clouds prevent any kind of views. Instead I hike down into Baños from my high camping perch and am rewarded with beautiful views of the town completely surrounded by huge mountains.

The town of Baños

I crawl out of my tent at sunrise each morning and am not disappointed by the spectacular views of the nearby volcano. On a couple of days fresh snow is clearly visible and I get my fill before the clouds soon close in. Cooking breakfast each morning with stunning views in all directions I wake up to the realization of exactly where I am; throughly in the Andes, camping, hiking and checking out every square inch and peaks my interest.
This is what I dreamed about for all those months

My campsite at Casa Del Arból with snow-capped Mt. Tungurahua

Baños is famous for hot springs and I of course make a visit early one morning. It’s a concrete pool affair for $2, complete with three pools; very hot, perfect soaking temperature and freezing cold.

On top of the world at Casa Del Arból

If you hadn’t already guessed, I really like it here.

-Dan

My 'friends' who joined me for lunch at Papagayo

I set out on the famous Quilotoa Loop not entirely sure what to expect and am immediately in awe of the scenery and little villages I constantly pass though. This tiny road winds it’s way through communities high in the the Andean mountains which I imagine have been much the same for hundreds of years. The highlight is by far Laguna Qilotoa, formed in the crater of an enormous inactive volcano at 3,800 meters elevation. A local guy lets me camp on his property about 5 meters from the edge of the rim, one of my better campsites for sure. Hiking around the rim the next morning takes about four and a half hours with some seriously impressive views along the way.

The endless green hills of the Quilotoa Loop

The full Laguna Quilotoa

I drive further and further along the deteriorating track, to the little town of Chugchilán. There are a couple of tiny stores, two hosterias and some street vendors selling suspicious looking meat on the one and only street in town. I check-in to one of the hosterias, with a private room, hot shower, dinner and breakfast all for $10 and set out to explore. After walking the length of town twice in five minutes, I venture up into the surrounding hills with no exact destination in mind. As I’ve come to expect the thick clouds roll in around lunchtime and there is a steady stream of rain for the remainder of the day. Although there is nothing to do per se, I come to like this little town and the friendly people going about their lives.

Iliniza Sur and Norte snuck out for just a minute

The trail around the entire rim

I finish the loop the next day by wandering around Saquisili, reported to have the ‘most authentic’ market in Ecuador. Indigenous people hike into town from miles around often using Llamas to pack their produce and hand made goods in and out. It’s not at all geared for tourists and is the lifeblood of the many communities in the area.
At least, this is what I’ve read.
The market is a Thursday-only affair and I’ve arrived on a Saturday. Maybe I’ll come back.

Just hanging out on the side of Laguna Quilotoa

On the rim of Laguna Quilotoa at my campsite

I still don’t know what that suspicious looking meat was, but it tasted pretty good

-Dan

The source of the hot spring at Tufiño

We move south, winding our way through numerous green valleys dotted with lush farmland. I catch a glimpse of an enormous snow-capped mountain in the distance and am jumping about with excitement and eagerness. Over the next few days we camp on the shores of Yahuarcocha Lake after driving around the racetrack that circles it, then on a lookout high above Laguna San Pablo, a beautiful spot that Vince is very proud to find.

Lush green hills of Ecuador

Another impressive Ecuadorian mountain

We make a stop at Parque Nacional El Condor and wander around the impressive collection of eagles, owls, hawks, condors and other birds of prey. The mountainous backdrop when the keeper lets a couple of birds fly around is jaw-dropping and the sight of a condor fully extending it’s wings is hard to digest.

Watching this guy eat dead mice was impressive

Laguna Yahuarcocha, complete with racetrack

The city of Otavaldo hosts Ecuador’s biggest local market and we’re up early on Saturday morning to squeeze as much out of it as possible. We first make our way to the animal market on the edge of town, an amazing mix of people and every animal you can think of crammed into a tight space, with people and animals alike trying to make as much noise as possible. Deals are happening left and right with everything from chickens and guinea pigs to goats and donkeys being traded faster than I can keep up. I thoroughly enjoy sitting at a small local stall for breakfast where we strike up a conversation with some Colombians who have come to checkout the prices.

The Land Rover of Vince and Marie into the mountains

We next wander down into the center of town to market central where almost every woman is wearing an extremely colorful traditional dress. Photos of people in Ecuador are a touchy subject, so my camera stays in my bag for the day. The market is so huge the stalls are overflowing out in all directions from the central square with half the streets in the city closed to traffic. There are clothes, trinkets, hats, blankets and more in all sorts of beautiful shapes, sizes and colors to admire. As is usual with these markets bargaining is the order of the day and before long the items on each table all start to blend together and look more or less identical. I’m happy to see that almost every item I look at clearly says “Made in Ecuador”, even if they are obviously made in bulk on machinery. The streets are packed and there is real excitement in the air. It’s obvious many people from outlying communities make the journey into town just for the market and they are having as much fun as I am, laughing and smiling in the warm sun.

After the excitement of the market we’re looking to get away a little and drive up to Lagunas de Mojanda, a huge lake sitting at 3,700 meters. The heavy Land Rover can’t climb a steep, muddy hill so I continue to explore the area on my own while Vince and Marie retreat to our camp site for the night, on the shore of a smaller lake in a beautiful valley.

At 4000 meters above Laguna de Mojanda

No idea how that mud got there

In the morning I push hard and hike to the summit of Fuya Fuya at 4,250 meters in only an hour and a half – a decision I strongly regret only an hour later. Back at the Jeep at around 3,700 I feel fine, but by the time I drive down into town I have a headache more intense than any I’ve experienced in my life. I seriously think about being sick and both Vince and Marie can’t believe how pale I am.
Aspirin is supposed to help by increasing circulation, so I drink a couple down and catch a short nap in front seat of the Jeep, making me feel about a thousand times better.
A few hours later I’ve almost forgotten all about it.
I’ll have to be careful next time I hike at high altitude.

At the top of Fuya Fuya, somewhere above 4000 meters

To finish off our time around the beautiful Otavaldo region, we head up to Laguna Cuicocha in the Reserva Ecológica Citacachi-Cayapas. The guys at the entrance gate seem to change their price a few times before we pay $5 for all three of us to enter the park and camp for the night on a beautiful perch high above the lake. The lake sits in the crater of the inactive Volcán Cotacachi and in the morning we hike the 5 hour loop around the rim – an extremely beautiful walk that includes a huge variety of ecosystems and breathtaking views.

Morning reflections in Laguna Cuicocha

Wow, this place is stunning! I can’t wait for whatever is next.

-Dan

Grand idol at San Agustin

Another idol at San Agustin

While staying in town I get two more flat tires repaired and have a great time chatting to the shop guys in Spanish. They are very interested in my Jeep and where I have driven from and are genuinely curious about other countries and want to know what it was like through Central America. It gets really hilarious when a bunch of school children show up and want me to help them with their English homework. Their English is a little below the level of my Spanish so I have a great time explaining past tense and helping them through various exercises. For an unknown reason almost every English student I’ve come across has been very shy to actually speak in English and these guys are no exception. For all my prodding and encouragement, I barely get a “Hello” in reply.

Jeep / Land Rover hybrid

We wave goodbye to my hitchhiking backpacker and move south towards the border. We’ve been told the road through the mountains to Pasto is one of the worst in Colombia, and it doesn’t disappoint. Extremely bumpy, rutted, narrow and windy, we spend five hours driving 120 kms with more than a few close encounters with huge trucks and busses. Often we have to reverse back out of the way when we come face to face around a blind curve.

"In winter it's preferable to drive during the day"

The crazy road widing into the mountanis

Crossing a river in the mountains of Colombia

After camping another rainy night by Laguna de la Cocha we move further south to Santuario de las Lajas, where an immense church has been built in a beautiful canyon. It’s a very peaceful place and we find a huge parking lot just above to camp for the night.

Laguna De La Cocha

Colombia has been noticeably bigger than the countries I’ve passed through recently and I’ve really enjoyed moving from North to South. The price of gas has varied quite a lot, usually between $3.20 and $3.80 a gallon and significantly cheaper near the Venezuelan and Ecuadorian borders. There have been many police and military checkpoints, which have all been friendly and gone smoothly. At one I’m asked to take every single item out of the Jeep while they search, a process that takes over an hour, but ends in friendly handshakes and wishes of good luck for the future.
Car insurance is mandatory here and the $40 I paid for two months is well worth it as I’m asked for it time and time again.

The valley of Santuario De Las Lajas

Santuario De Las Lajas

My time in Colombia has been fantastic, and nothing at all like the stereotype would have you think. I’ve constantly met the happiest, friendliest people of my entire journey in Colombia and my only regret is that I only asked for 30 days on my visa, which means it’s time to leave. I won’t make that mistake again.
Just like the marketing brochure says:

Colombia: The only danger is you’ll never want to leave

-Dan

Camping on the side of the road

After a couple of days I collect another hitchhiking backpacker and move east intothe mountains past Parque Nacional Puracé, a spectacular road that winds past a sulphur mine and a few hot springs and waterfalls. I don’t feel like paying the $10 park entrance fee, so don’t hike Volcán Puracé or visit the hot springs. The road gets steeper and narrower the further we go until we are literally winding our way along a single lane track with a 40 meter drop to a ranging river below. A massive truck approaches from the opposite direction so I move over as far as possible, while he advances in the very middle of the road. He does not move over at all, and even yells at me when we are level. As he roars off he hits the back of the Jeep, luckily only catching the very end of the rear bar, denting it and bending it off square.
I don’t know what that’s all about.

Waterfall behind Tierradentro, flooded with recent rain

We camp on the side of this small road in the middle of beautiful green mountains and move on early the next morning to the tiny village of Tierradentro. After paying the $8 entry fee for foreigners to enter the archeological park we set out to hike a loop that joins five sites dotted around the valley and surrounding hillsides. Very quickly we appreciate what a great place we’ve found – it’s a beautiful sunny day and we’re surrounded by lush green mountains dotted with farms and little houses.

The green valley of Tierradentro

The area was inhabited by agricultural precolombians from 1000 BC to 1900 AD with the main evidence of that being various tombs dotted across the landscape. At each site a caretaker escorts us around the various tombs, which are reached by insanely steep concrete stairs that descend into the darkness. Some of the tombs have faces carved into the stone and patterns painted on the walls making them extremely beautiful.

The stairs down into the tombs were insane

Looking out of a tomb at Tierradentro

The highlight for me is the hike to the site called ‘Alto del Aguacate’, which winds through countless little farms on the side of mountains and after some serious climbing ends at the top of a ridge with 360° views. It’s a huge day of hiking and we love it. I bumped into Vince & Marie, my friends I shared a shipping container with, in Salento and find their Land Rover here in Tierradentro as well. Before long we are enjoying laughs over dinner and set up our tent in torrential rain.

Painting inside a tomb

We thought the faces were transformers at Tierradentro

On top of the world at Tierradentro

The next morning we head out in a convoy along the narrow, windy roads only to find the road to civilization has been washed out overnight. After chatting to a bunch of locals we come up with a plan and set out on some very crazy roads. Over the next few hours we cross a couple of impressive and sketchy bridges and drive on some of the most remote roads of my entire trip. It’s great to be so far off the beaten path and locals are genuinely amazed to see us as we roll through tiny little villages.

They build some impressive bridges in these parts

The remote roads in Colombia

The road through the mountains we drove down

Driving through the mountains of Colombia

It’s great to travel with Vince and Marie again and I feel like anything is possible when we are together.

Pet vulture and child, together ?!?

-Dan

The temperature drops quite quickly and I smile when I have to wind up my window due to the cold and not long after I turn on the heater, a novelty. I climb and climb and climb and take the turn-off to Parque Nacional Natural Los Nevados. Before long I roll by a sign announcing I’m at 4,000 meters, clearly the highest I’ve ever been in my life. The sun is falling fast so I find a quiet spot off the side of the road to pitch my tent. My only visitors for the night are a herd of cows that are very curious and seem to like hanging around. Once the sun disappears it’s not just cold, but freezing, my little thermometer showing below zero before the night is done.

Guerilla camping in Colombia at 4000 meters

Early in the morning I move up into the park itself which is already busy due to the Easer holidays. All of the rangers are extremely friendly and try exceedingly hard to help me as I move from an orientation session (in extremely fast Spanish) to filling out a basic form to enter the park. Entrance is quite expensive for foreigners, I pay (in $USD) $19 for entry, $12 for a mandatory guide, $6 for the Jeep and another $6 to camp in the official campground for a night.

Rock formation in the National Park

Our guide, Michelle, jumps in my Jeep and we form a convoy of four vehicles driving up high into the park. Every five minutes or so we jump out to have a look at the beautiful scenery while Michelle explains the geological features around us. While we drive together I practice my Spanish which again improves a lot in a very short time. We drive up and up, until we reach 4,700 meters where we have to climb the rest on foot. Michelle explains how quickly we’ll run short of breath at this elevation and so we hike up as slowly as physically possible. I’m careful to make sure I don’t have to breathe really hard, though I can feel my heart rate racing to keep up.

Road to the top

In just over an hour we reach the glacier, at 5,125 meters. It’s stunningly beautiful and everyone is really excited to see ice and snow, the first time for many of the locals. It’s surreal to be up this high in the Andes, the first time of many for me I’m sure. After an hour of hanging around and walking on the glacier I make my make back down to the campground, at around 4,200 meters. By this time I have a mean headache that doesn’t go away until late the following day.

At the summit of Nevado del Ruiz, 5125 meters

At the campground I meet some locals who are crazy about hiking and camping, and even crazier about showing off their fantastic country. We quickly pour over my map of Colombia, talking excitedly about all the places I need to see. The night is again frosty cold and I have out all my cold weather gear, including thermals and two sleeping bags. A couple of times in the night I can feel my heart rate skyrocket just from the exertion of rolling over.

Driving up into the mountains, at about 4500 meters

Interestingly the Jeep performs really well at such high elevations, only take-offs are a little sketchy and need a lot more accelerator than usual. I can think of no better way to relax and cure my headache than a soak in a Hot Spring, and as luck would have it there is one just on the outskirts of Manizales, which I make use of for a couple of hours.

Crater La Olleta, the inactive volcano

-Dan

The sleepy fishing village of Taganga

Cruising

Eel hiding

Some kind of eel thing

All OK diving at night

I move around to Parque National Tayrona, an extremely beautiful reserve with an abundance of white sand beaches. I have to hike in a few kilometers and camp just back from the beach at Arrecifes.
The highlight for me is a serious jungle trek to the ruins of the ancient city of Pueblito with a few friends I made along the way.

The Arrecifes campground in Tayrona

Beach in Tayrona

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona again

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona and again

-Dan

Rain comes down in torrents hour after hour and word filters down that the only highway south to Panama has been washed out, so we spend a couple of extra days here, constantly struggling to fit in with the vibe.
On our way down to the border at Sixaoloa / Guabito banana fields stretch in all directions as far as the eye can see.

The line up waiting at a washed out bridge

The actual border is a huge old one lane bridge spanning an enormous river. It really doesn’t look in good enough condition to drive over, though the big trucks are having no problems. On the Costa Rica side we fill out another tourist card, get an exit stamp in our passports and I hand over the paperwork for the Jeep all in about 5 minutes.

Driving over the bridge is kind of a challenge because it’s very narrow and crammed with people walking in both directions carrying their worldly possessions. Every time a person wants to go in the opposing direction I have to stop so they can squeeze by without worry. Immediately in Panama I am directed to park literally in the middle of the road and pay $4 for the usual fumigation. The guy is so intent on doing a good job he sprays a small can inside the Jeep and says not to go in there for ten minutes, making me feel a bit uneasy.

I grab an entrance stamp for myself before getting the Jeep inspected by a military guy who pokes around for a long time, and seems somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t find anything. I walk down a little way and purchase a months worth of mandatory insurance for $15 USD. The guy behind the counter thinks he’s on a winner when he says it’s $30, not realizing I can read the sign in Spanish that clearly says it’s $15.

Questioning everything is becoming a way of life.

Back at customs I exchange copies of the Jeep documents for an official looking piece of paper allowing entry for one month. I have a good look over the form and am satisfied it’s correct before we drive off into country number ten after a very easy border crossing.

-Dan

Hiking up to the peak

A couple of hundred meters further on we find ourselves quite literally on top of the world at 1,916 meters (6,286 ft) and are completely awe-struck by the view. When the clouds part we can see Lake Nicaragua to the North and the Pacific to the West. Close by is the crater of the volcano, which is immense and doesn’t look at all real.

On top of the world at Rincón de la Vieja

We walk a knife-edge trail to the crater rim, and stare in utter disbelief. The first thing to strike us is the color of the water in the crater lake – the strangest milky-white I have ever seen. The next is the far side of the crater wall that has gas loudly hissing out under high pressure from a couple of different places.
It’s hard not to think the earth is alive when confronted with this spectacle on such a grand scale.

From this angle the rock looked like it was floating

There are of course no fences of any kind and while sitting on the rim eating lunch we discuss our chances in the event of even a minor eruption.
Not good, we decide.

The milky-white lake in the crater

A couple of different places list this as one of, if not the, best hikes in Costa Rica and Mike and I throughly agree – the amazing views and alien-like features of the active volcano make this a fantastic hike.

Standing on the edge of the crater

Steam hissing out of the crater on Rincón de la Vieja

Back at the ranger station we take a quick dip in an extremely refreshing swimming hole before setting out on the loop trail, which is full of geothermal activity. We wind our way past all manner of hot springs and steam vents that are bubbling and steaming away in a very aggressive manner. Warning signs say the temperature is between 75°C and 95°C and the couple of places I tentatively test confirm this pretty quickly. The highlight comes in the form of the mud fumaroles, which continuously bubble and gurgle in a very hypnotic manner.

Mesmerising fumarole in the park

Not done for the day, we drive around to the Santa Maria Sector, setup camp for the night for $2 USD and after dinner make the 4km hike to the natural hot springs that are perfect for soaking. The two soaking pools are large, hot, smell very strongly of sulfur and sit beside a beautiful cold stream.

Soaking our weary legs after a huge day of hiking is amazing and we stumble home half asleep a few hours later.

-Dan

We’re not too sure how to find the good stuff without paying through the teeth, when we meet Eric, a cool booking agent. He’s just opened up in the same building as the supermarket and is very happy to tell us about a couple of free hikes & activities around town. It’s really refreshing to have someone so down to earth, who is not trying to get every last penny from us and genuinely wants us to enjoy ourselves. He’s as excited are we are and soon we’re bouncing around ready for adventure.

The hiking road to the cloudforest

Armed with our new knowledge we set out to hike into the cloud forest at the only place in the area this can be done for free. It’s a really steep muddy road that I drive up as far as possible before parking and continuing on foot. Even though it’s much cooler here we are soon sweating like crazy as we climb up and up, right into the clouds. The views from the top are said to be spectacular on a clear day, though we can barely see ten meters through the thick fog which doesn’t diminish the beauty. We move on to the second free hike, and find a massive hollow fig tree that Mike climbs into a long way.

View of the cloudforest

The giant Fig tree that Mike climbed into

Before the day is done we make our way out to the San Luis Waterfall, a beautiful 35 minute walk along a river deep in the jungle. The falls themselves are about 90 meters high (300 ft.) and hugely impressive. Swimming below is freezing, and we grin from ear to ear.

The 90 meter San Luis Waterfall

The main attraction in this area is zipline tours, and with Eric’s help we get a deal on the best outfit in town, eXtremo.
With a name like that how could we possibly pass it up?

We are harnessed, helmeted and harnessed again before being given a 5 minute safety talk. We’ll be connected to cables spanning huge distances and leather gloves are our only brakes. If the guide waves frantically, pull down on the cable, we are told. Simple enough.
Before long we are flying from platform to platform, across huge spans at really high speed. It’s amazingly good fun and everyone is really excited. Braking turns out to be pretty simple and soon I have the technique down; come in at suicidal speed and try to burn through my glove in the last meter or two. Adding a look of complete horror on my face terrifies a couple of the guides whose job it is to ‘catch’ me.

Hanging out in the treetops

The guides take a liking to me and tell me the best way to ride the tarzan swing is backwards, so off I step, completely unable to see where I am going.

Mike about to set out on the zipline

Mike coming in on the zipline

The main event of the day is the “superman” cable where we are harnessed in so we are lying down, superman style. Everyone quickly starts humming the theme song and calls of “Superman!” can be heard echoing all around. The guides let me hold my camera on this one, so I take a video of what it looks like while whizzing along. Really, really fun.

The superman zipline

It’s really hard to judge my speed in the video, so I did some quick numbers; The cable is 1080 meters long and I complete the trip in 54 seconds, making for an average speed of 72 km/h (45 mph).

-Dan

The main beach at Tamarindo

When I goto sleep there is only one other tent in the whole campground, and I think I’m dreaming when about fifty people rock up after midnight and have a huge party while setting up their tents, complete with a car stereo at full volume. It turns out a whole village has made the trek to the beach for the weekend and they intend to party pretty hard while here.

The crazy tent city that appeared at Tamarindo

We spend a few nights here, partly because I’m still feeling sick and party because Mike lost his debit card a few days back and is trying to have money wired to the local bank, with little luck. It’s an extremely beautiful place, if not a little busy for my liking.

The sunset over Tamarindo Beach

A 4×4-only dirt track winds down the west coast of the peninsula, possibly called the ‘Monkey Trail’ and is highly recommended by all. We wind our way down to Playa Sámara and quickly realize we’ve found a slice of paradise. The campground is a very laid-back, Rastafarian affair right on the beach and wandering around the town which has one of everything we need and nothing we don’t is great. At night we go to a little community center full of locals to watch a movie sitting on bean-bags & eating popcorn.
It would be easy to stay here for weeks.

Camping right on beautiful Samara beach

We continue south and spend a couple of nights in the Malpais / Santa Teresa area. Here, a beachside road strings together a couple of small towns that have been overrun by surfers riding the powerful swell on the seemingly endless sandy beach. We catch up with Jamie who we met in Nicaragua who has been living in Costa Rica for six months teaching English. She’s been having an awesome time living the local life, which you can read about on her blog: http://rubiatica.blogspot.com/

Overlooking the Nicoya Peninsula

At the very southern end of the peninsula lies The Reserva Natural Absoluta Cabo Blanco, Costa Rica’s oldest protected wilderness area setup in 1963. We pay $10 USD each for entry and set out on a two hour hike to the beach at the southern tip. Walking through the dense jungle and enormous trees we walk right by a family of howler monkeys and spot a couple of brightly colored birds and giant butterflies. The beach is really peaceful and we both take catnaps in the warm shady area.

Hiking through the jungle to Cabo Blanco

These spikey trees are all over the place

We move around to Montezuma, a very popular spot on the coast. It’s a very Rastafarian place and we are offered drugs twice each on the three minute walk to the grocery store. Neither of us quite likes the vibe here, although nothing bad happens.

Scared little crab

We catch up with Jamie again the next day and walk twenty minutes to the amazing Montezuma Waterfalls, where we swim and jump off a low rock. Using Jamie’s local knowledge we walk around and up higher to another waterfall and series of swimming pools which are almost deserted. This second fall turns out to be perfect for jumping off and we all jump multiple times from the 10 meter (35 feet) height before lying around in the sun enjoying the total relaxation.

Winding up for a backflip at Montezuma Waterfall

We move on and hop the ferry across to Puntarenas an the mainland, excited for our next Costa Rican adventure.

The main beach at Montezuma

-Dan

Volcan Conception on Isla De Ometepe

At the ferry terminal all the different taxes, charges and tariffs quickly get confusing and then I go and loose my ticket, so I have to buy another. All told I pay 480 cordobas (about $25 USD) to get myself and the Jeep over to the island and I drive right onto a ferry ready to go. The ride is really rough in high swells whipped up by the wind and I get chatting to a few backpackers who are mostly traveling solo and have randomly met up. They’re pretty stoked to realize the benefits of having a vehicle and we soon find a place to camp out at Hostel Chico Largo for the night right on the side of the lake.

Volcan Conception in the early morning

We move along and checkout Ojo De Agua, a natural spring on the island. After we pay our $2 USD entrance the guy at the gate gives us a huge spiel about the spring and I’m amazed to hear it’s about 25 °C and doesn’t change temperature no matter what the active Volcán Conceptión is doing. I’ve heard some rumors about hot springs on the island, this guy is certain there are none.
It turns out to big a big concrete pool with crystal clear water welling up from the bottom – a bit of a tourist trap but a really nice place all the same.

Ojo de Agua on Isla de Ometepe

We camp at the night at Finca Magdalena, a beautiful organic farm a little way up the side of Volcán Maderas. It’s obvious they get a lot of tourists through here, with a menu entirely in US dollars and the convenience of running a tab.. All the guys in the group are really excited to hike up the volcano in the morning and we ummm and arrr about getting a guide, which is apparently mandatory, though we’re not certain about that. We decide that if we’re careful we won’t have any problems.

The crew setting out to climb Volcan Maderas

Early in the morning the hike starts dry, hot, dusty and steep just as we had thought, but quickly changes into extremely lush wet rainforest and we begin climbing through mud and slippery rocks. This continues for hour after hour and it takes us a full four hours to reach the summit, unfortunately surrounded by very high trees. We descend an extremely steep section down to the lake in the volcano crater, which is stunning to say the least. We had hoped to swim here, though it’s quickly obvious it’s a shallow mud pit which Ben illustrates by sinking past his knees, a feat greeted with roaring laughter.

Lake shoreline

The very steep descent into the crater

We hang out for an hour or so, soaking in the atmosphere and chatting to other hikers before setting out for the return leg. After a while it becomes apparent we’re not on exactly the same trail we came up on, but using the two volcanoes as landmarks we know exactly where we are and decide to continue down. The trail seems much longer and a few hours later we break out into farm land, first passing through open fields with cattle, then banana plantations and more open farmland. We eventually make it down to the road and have a couple of kilometers to hike back around to Magdalena, where we arrive throughly exhausted. A few people snicker at our “getting lost” and one of the ladies says in Spanish we need to learn how to use our brains.
Ouch.

The lake in the crater of Volcan Madera

The beautiful farmland below the volcano

Almost the whole crew moves on the next morning, some heading south for Costa Rica and some moving North. Mike, Simon and I move around to the other side of Maderes and spend another night lakeside, mostly relaxing for the day after our big volcano hike. I’m feeling pretty sick with another stomach bug and am happy for the rest day.

Hiking through a bananna plantation

Isla Ometepe is an amazing place and the peaceful, relaxed way of life is really infectious. A great way to finish up my time in Nicaragua

-Dan

Driving through the mountains of Guatemala

We make excellent time and having Kate to navigate across the top of Guatemala City helps immensely. After a quick lunch break in the big city we move on and roll into Antigua in the early afternoon. We heard about free camping in the Tourist Police compound in the middle of the city, so we head straight there and make it our home for a few days. It’s nice to know we have armed guards patrolling our free campground
I’m really surprised to see Tyler’s beat-up Subaru sitting in the lot and I’m told he’s around the city somewhere. I haven’t seen Tyler since La Manzanilla in Mexico months ago.

Our free campsite in downtown Antigua

Our campground is right next to the main market so we wander over there to buy a few odds and ends we both need. We start out on the outskirts looking through all the junky stores before moving into the middle and getting throughly lost in the endless identical fruit and vegetable stands. The Mercado De Artesanias, a market just for local artists, is right next door and Kate’s eyes light up as she almost runs from store to store perusing the goodies on offer. I’m pretty sure she buys two of everything, to the point that she has to buy another bag to carry it all home.

Kate going crazy in the markets of Antigua

I’ve heard the Cerro De La Cruz, a lookout above the city is really worthwhile and our guidebooks say it’s not safe to go without a free Police escort. I end up climbing on the back of a motorbike with a Policeman and we zip across the city and up the mountain. The lookout is pretty good, and the ride up and down make it great fun.

The view from Cerro De La Cruz

In the compound are quite a few “overlanders” – people driving across continents like myself. I’ve been meeting quite a few lately and have been thinking a lot about vehicle choices. On one hand there are people that are totally dedicated to their chosen vehicle and have enough spares and knowhow to go around the world ten times. Others are driving vehicles they barely know the name of and carry no spares or tools at all – they rely completely on local mechanics. I like to think I fall in the middle somewhere and it’s really fun to see how everyone is doing it differently.

The city of Antigua, surrounded by volcanoes

Here in Guatemala American made vehicles have become exceedingly rare and have been replaced by makes and models I have almost forgotten about since leaving Australia. Everywhere I look I see Toyota Landcruisers & Hiluxes, Mitsubishi Pajeros & Mondeos, Range Rovers & tough looking Mercedes off-road machines. Almost all are diesel.
I’m told the further south I drive the rarer American cars will become.

The steets are full of character

We really enjoy wandering around the streets of Antigua, poking into stores and eating cheap meals. We’re in a bookstore when we feel an earthquake strong enough to make everything in the store sway and rattle for a solid five seconds. A few people mill about in the street afterward, then resume their daily lives.

The markets of Antigua are full of colours

-Dan

The road is super steep and windy

The countryside has changed significantly here on the mainland, with lots of farmland nestled in what is quickly becoming lush green jungle. The humidity has jumped up a lot and during the middle of the day the heat is oppressive, making us want to lay about on a beach. We find the perfect place where hundreds of locals are down on the sand partying, drinking, eating & swimming – everyone is having a great time. We throw the frisbee around and body surf for a while attracting the attention of local kids and a bunch of girls that want photos with Duke.

The beach with hundreds of happy locals

A little way down further we find a perfect secluded spot to camp, which works out perfectly until we sleep in a little late and get trapped high on the sand by the tide. Ordinarily I wouldn’t mind getting trapped on a perfect white sand beach, except we are sharing the spot with about a hundred million local biting bugs. After a couple of hours we can tolerate it no longer and I drive the Jeep really low on the sand through the shallow water to get out of there. We pass through a couple of very remote towns well off the beaten path, where children stand in the street staring at us.
I don’t know, but I think maybe they’ve never seen a white person before.

Mountains are popping up all over

Gas here on the mainland is actually a little more expensive, but almost everything else is cheaper. We stop a few times to re-supply odds and ends and pay all of $1.10 to re-fill both our huge water containers with purified drinking water. We roll into Puerto Vallarta in time to watch the most amazing sunset I have ever seen. Literally three quarters of the sky is some shade of red, yellow or orange and is often partially obscured only by palm trees.
We’ve driving in heavy traffic so I can’t get a photo this time around. I will.

Another amazing sunset

Rolling into the Oasis Hostel we immediately love the vibe. About 10 people are hanging around at the front of the building painting a VW van, drinking and laughing. Duke and I quickly join them and we’re soon in the thick of things sharing tales of adventure crowded around the map on the hood of the Jeep. We really really like it here and make so many new friends we keep staying for “just one more night”, over and over.

A tiny glimpse of Puerto Vallarta

When you find a place this good, there is no rush

-Dan

Sunset over the Pacific

Every night we are treated to an amazing display of stars, in numbers I have not seen since leaving Australia. My camera is limited to a maximum 30 second exposure, which I sadly discover is not nearly long enough to capture anything worth keeping.

The amimal life is getting pretty interesting

We roll into La Paz in the early afternoon and immediately find ourselves at a WalMart / Sams Club / Home Depot shopping centre, a novelty we can’t pass up.
We’ve just spent a week driving through an amazingly harsh desert, complete with enormous dust clouds, heavily rutted roads & people literally living in tin sheds and now we step into a WalMart Supercenter. I can’t believe my eyes when I realize the store is identical to every one I have seen across Canada and the US – every brand, every product, even the layout has been meticulously preserved.

The disorientation is complete when I hear jingles from American TV playing loudly over the store radio. I get turned around in the thousands of Christmas decorations and am disappointed when “I’m dreaming of a white christmas” does not get air time.
Do Mexicans even celebrate Christmas? (I think so)
Do they do it by buying a ton of crap they don’t actually need? (I highly doubt it)
I can’t believe how solidly American culture is begin slammed on the Mexicans and I am left wondering what the average Mexican thinks of this.

Concrete shipwreck next to where we camped

La Paz itself is a beautiful, friendly beach side city and we walk around for the afternoon getting the low down on our ferry crossing coming up in a few days.

Cabo San Lucas

The following day we roll into Cabo San Lucas and are again awe-struck.
We’ve been warned how American the city is and we are still not ready for what we see. Everything that is excessive about Las Vegas is duplicated here, with the added attraction of a beautiful white sand beach with thousands of people partying hard, even on a Thursday. We wander around for a few hours checking out hotels and find The Cabo Inn, a cosy hostel just a block from the main action for $22USD each. After again hitting up the beach for the afternoon sun we wind up back at the hostel chatting and laughing with travelers from all over the world.

Cabo San Lucas looking the other direction

A common theme continually comes up in all the conversations I can hear – everyone absolutely loves Mexico and have met nothing but kind, generous & friendly people everywhere they have been including Mexico City and other places I have been sternly warned to stay away from. It’s fantastic to hear about the kind of people I will meet and the sights I will see further down the road.
I really like Mexico

San José Del Cabo busy with surfers

The next day we start making out way back to La Paz, through San José Del Cabo to the Tropic of Cancer. It was not long ago I passed signs alerting me to my 45 degree latitude and now I find myself at 23° 27′ – I’m closing in on the Equator every day.

Even I figured this one out

-Dan

The Sea Of Cortez

We take a detour off Highway One and roam across to Bahia De Los Angeles, to see the Gulf of California aka The Sea of Cortez. The town is pretty small with only a handful of restaurants and hotels, so we drive 11km of extremely rutted gravel road around to Punta La Gringo. We find a beautiful little spot overlooking all the nearby islands where we swim and enjoy the 35 degree sun.

An island in the Sea Of Cortez

Back at the junction with Highway One we see two guys on heavily loaded bicycles and stop to chat.
“Where are you guys headed” I ask.
“Argentina” they both reply, grinning from ear to ear.
We quickly figure out they started in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska just before I was there. In fact, I probably passed them on the Dalton Highway just North of Fairbanks. We also have the same destination in mind, Tierra Del Fuego. We decide to camp together and find a great spot out of sight, off the highway. The four of us laugh and chat while cooking on our little camp stoves, throughly enjoying all the tales of adventure.

Duke, Seth, Parker & Dan in the desert

Seth & Parker have a similar plan to me, which is to say no real plan. They are also blogging about their adventure and you can read along at www.pebblepedalers.com

Camping in the desert was great & really cold at night

Duke and I continue on to Gurrero Negro, on the border between Baja California North and South. We go through an immigration stop here and I pay ten pesos (less than $1USD) to have the Jeep ‘washed’ for fruit fly. This consists of driving over a sprinkler that coats the underside with some un-known substance. In the office we clear customs, get a non-descript stamp in our passports and move on to the bank to pay 262 pesos ($20USD) for the privilege. The banks so far have been clean, organized & friendly – figuring out my debit card adds to my liking of them.
It’s nice to have my paperwork out of the way, and I will sort out the Jeep in La Paz before jumping the ferry to the mainland.

The main street of Gurrero Negro

Each town we have passed through has a good grocery store, an internet cafe & a place to purchase purified drinking water. We take advantage of all three, paying a few pesos for internet and 28 to fill our two massive water jugs. Street meat is again a priority before Duke splashes on some running shoes for all of $23USD.

A river running through San Ignacio, making an oasis

We camp on a secluded little beach for the night, where the water and breeze blowing off The Sea of Cortez are quite warm for the first time. It’s beginning to sink in that I’ve succeeded in skipping winter – it’s only going to get warmer for the next few months for me now

Jeep tracks on the beach

-Dan

We both commented that we could be in Idaho...

We feel a lot safer here in the smaller towns and start to venture out and explore. We stop in San Qunitìn to see how alien daily tasks are going to be:

Exchanging dollars for pesos is relatively easy at the bank, I just nod and smile when the teller speaks much, much too fast for me. I can’t get my debit card to work in the ATM, something I’ll have to figure out another day.

Duke is keen for some ‘street meat’ so we stop at a taco stand and have egg & chicken burritos. We both eat a mountain of food for around $3 USD each. Duke’s superior Spanish begins to show, so I start picking his brain for everything I can.

Jeep and Pacific

Buying gas turns out to be a simple matter and the attendant teaches me the word for full when I say ‘mucho’, which gets the point across. Regular gas here is 7.4 pesos per liter, not as cheap as I had hoped, but still not bad. Maybe it will be cheaper on the mainland, away from tourists.

We walk up and down the street a little and have a look in a couple of supermarkets. All the big brand names are represented, as is every kind of food I normally eat and a ton I have no idea about. Prices seem cheaper than the US, but not amazingly so. Soft serve ice cream from a street vendor is extremely tempting for 75 cents, but I remember a stern warning I was given about it.
We pass.

Everything goes smoothly, but I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach. It’s been a long time since I was this far out of my element and it’s going to take some getting used to. I need to learn Spanish – fast.

Cacti are becomming more and more common

We drive down side roads to the beach in a few places, and quickly learn about dirt roads in Mexico. Potholes and huge ruts are common, and I can hardly hold 2nd gear. In the small town of El Rosario we are told we have to checkout the surfing hangout of San Carlos, not far away on the coast. We end up taking the long, roundabout way where the road gets crazier and crazier until I’m in low range 4×4 and pushing the Jeep pretty hard to climb hills. I feel bad pushing it this hard, but she seems to handle it just fine. (fingers crossed)

Pushing the Jeep uphill

We round a corner and find ourselves at San Carlos, a world famous point break popular with wind surfers, kite surfers and the regular kind. We meet Kevin, the owner, and are given the grand tour and introduced around. We are hugely surprised by the scale of the great setup, with solar power, showers & tons of boards for hire & sale. A crew of professional mountain bike riders is kicking around filming, so we tag along and hang out for the day, laughing and enjoying paradise together. A couple of the guys have been coming down to Mexico for 20 years and I pick their brains on everything I can think of, always eager for more information about the road ahead.

Progessional mountain bike photography

The sunset over the Pacific Ocean seems to take forever, through every shade of red, orange & yellow.

One of our ocean side campsites - the wind is ferocious

-Dan

Around midday the following day we drive south on Interstate 5 until it ends, literally in Mexico. I’ve apparently driven in the wrong lane as the border guard asks a random person to translate, and directs me across four lanes of moving traffic into the ‘declaration’ lane. The once again spanish-speaking-only guard there wants to see in the back of the Jeep and barely pokes his nose in before he declares it’s all fine.
Twice he asks me “One?” before I realize he wants to know if I am driving down highway one & therefore Baja California. “Si.” I reply, “é Mazatlán.”
Going to Mazatlán on the mainland means I have to get myself a ‘tourist visa’ and the equivalent for the Jeep.
Using the three words of spanish I’ve been practicing for the last week I ask where to find immigration for the Jeep and I.

We park off to the side and find the right ‘building’ for immigration services. The officer explains in broken english that we have to walk 2 blocks to a building that can take care of all the required paperwork. We walk off only to find he means us to walk through the turnstiles into Tijuana proper and stumble around the streets there. Our choices are to leave the Jeep where it is or drive it into Tijuana and deal with whatever comes. I’ve been to TJ a couple of times before and have no intention of spending time there now, especially while carrying all my important paperwork & thinking about how safe the Jeep (is not).

We decide to scrap the whole paperwork-at-the-border plan, delaying it all until we reach the bottom of Baja.

I’m extremely thankful to have a navigator as we follow the winding roads out of Tijuana, always on the lookout for elusive signs to Ensenada and highway 1D. I can’t take my eyes off the road for long, but what I do see brings back waves of memories – decrepit buildings on all sides, desolate people staring blank eyed into nothingness and abundant garbage and filth. The smells come now in full force – first a rotting dead animal, then the most powerful sewage I’ve ever experienced, and wave after wave of rotting fish. Combine all of this with a low-hanging fog/cloud/smog mix that makes the air taste, smell and look horrendous.
It’s quite literally another world from sunny San Diego & we both fall silent, trying to take it all in.

I’ve been told time and time again most of the problem areas in Mexico are close to the border, so it’s been my plan all along to put in a good day of driving and get as far south as possible. When we hit the first toll booth, we figure out that Highway 1D is a toll road and we pay USD$2 quite a few times on our way to Ensenada, which turns out to be a very big place. It’s a little surreal to drive down a road and see a shopping district complete with a Walmart Supercenter, McDonalds, Burger King, Scotia Bank, Home Depot, etc. When I squint my eyes here, I could easily be in a strange part of the US or Canada.
With that thought on the font of my mind a few block later, the shops give way to all out poverty once again.

Dan on the Pacific Ocean in Mexico

The advice given to me was to think of roads not as a place for cars to move swiftly and safely, but more as a place where anything and everything will happen and cars have to deal with it. In the first few hours I encounter pot holes the size of my tires, construction that makes the surface so bad the Jeep is working hard, every kind of animal I can think of, numerous speed humps that are not signed and of course Duke’s favourite – the Police.

The Police and military in Mexico apparently don’t mess around and about every 30km we pass through a roadblock, manned by guys in full combat gear holding fully automatic weapons at the ready. Conversation with the guards is difficult & they seem more amused by us than anything else. Each time we are waived through without much of an inspection.

The Jeep in Mexico

After months and months of planning, I’m actually in Mexico, driving down that strip of land I’ve been pointing to on my hood for the last four months.
The road chose me.

-Dan

At Red Mountain, BC (xmas day 2006)

Mike was one of the first people I talked to when I first dreamed of this adventure and he’s been my strongest supporter ever since. Without his help, I’m not sure I’d be doing what I am today. Lately we’ve pushing each other more and more with the world adventure bit and I can’t wait to see what Mike comes up with next.

Having just lost an egg throwing contest at Club Getaway (2007)

I’m extremely lucky to have Mike for a brother, and even luckier that he’s one of my best friends.

Mike and Dan starting The West Coast Trail (2009)

I’ll call you today Mike!

-Dan

• Dry out all my wet stuff, including my boots.
• Repair a broken tent pole with my last spare piece.
• Work on my tan.
• Read huge amounts of “Travels with Charley” by John Steinbeck, a book I can’t put down.
• Finally work on my dreadlocks – they’ve been pretty ratty lately.

In the morning I am up early, in anticipation of the mighty Canyon that lies ahead. A stop at the visitors center is disappointing when I find it nothing more than a glorified book store – all of my questions are answered with suggestions of books I should buy; “But it’s only $49.95″ I am told eagerly.
Thanks, but no thanks.

Fall colors in force

Friends said the North Kaibab Trail is the way to go on the North Rim, so I set out down the trail, only really knowing that it’s steep and drops some serious elevation. I think I’ve overdone the rock and canyon formations this week and so am not particularly impressed with the view from the North Rim. When I was about 16 I visited the South Rim and my memories of that are a lot more spectacular than the view I have now. I think it’s because I am a long way from the Colorado River here and ‘the canyon proper’, so it’s not as immense as it can be in other places.

More pretty rock formations

I power downhill as fast as I possibly can, knowing it’s going to be much harder and hotter on the way back up. Every step I take down I can feel the air temperature going up, as it reaches a solid 87 ˚F. Almost everyone that I pass has a huge pack and are planning on spending at least a couple of nights at the canyon floor before hiking up to the South Rim. The trail is wide and dusty, and drops elevation in a serious fashion.

The canyon wall

I drop 3215 ft (1000 meters) to Roaring Springs, a quiet shady spot perfect for lunch. I feel like I’ve seen enough and so begin the long walk back to the top. It’s not impossibly hard, but it’s not easy either, and a steady rhythm helps me through the time.

The Grand part is out there in the distance

The campground shower is only $1.50, a bargain after another big day of hiking. Before long I find myself back on my little bluff eating huge smokies with ketchup/mustard/relish, my favorite meal on the road.

The trail drops steeply to the canyon floor

-Dan

Zion has a really great setup where you park at the visitor’s center or the nearby town of Springdale and catch a free bus anywhere you want to go. The canyon is so small and popular this is really the only way to deal with the number of people, and it works really really well. A bus shows up every few minutes and makes about ten stops on the way up the canyon, then the same on the return loop. Driving up the canyon in a bus is also a great way to look around and really soak in the views, while listening to commentary about what you can see.

I’ve heard how crazy of a hike Angel’s Landing is, so I’m well prepared with a couple of liters of water, snacks, hiking boots & my waterproof shell. I get a bit confused and think I’m going the wrong way when I see family groups, small children and people in jeans and city shoes.

The view along Zion Canyon

It turns out the first four and a half miles are relatively family friendly. I do need to clarify that – it’s nice and wide, well trafficked and well maintained and it’s also steep. Ridiculously steep. Right from the get-go the switchbacks start and they don’t let up until I break out onto a landing, apparently where most people stop and turn around. I’m impressed when a hiker overtakes me on the steep incline, something that doesn’t happen very often.

Zion Canyon as seen from the top

I’m of course going to the very top and so begin the final half mile which is equally as steep, about 20 feet wide and with at least a thousand foot vertical drop on both sides. Chains have been placed into the rock, which come in very handy on more than a few occasions.
I consider myself very confident with my footing, even at these heights.
I’m still holding on

It's a long way down

The busy trail makes the going slow as we have to stop for people coming down and co-ordinate who gets to hold on and who has to let go and find their own way. It’s clear the children and non-hikers have all turned around before now and I’m moving up with only dedicated hikers. Every step the view gets better and better, and my eyes bulge further and further from my head.

The ridge and surrounds

Of course I walk all the way out to the very highest end point of the ridge and am rewarded with an amazing view up and down Zion Canyon. Even more impressive is the view of the ridge I have just hiked up – it looks more narrow now that I thought. I sit and enjoy the sun for an hour, munching on my snacks and chatting to all the hikers coming and going.

Standing on the top, very aware of the drop behind me

I meet Mike, the hiker who overtook me earlier and we quickly discover we are both living the same kind of life. Mike quit his engineering job a couple of years ago and has been traveling around ever since, seeing the world. His latest adventures have him living out of his car across America and by now he has seen almost all the National Parks. You can check out his travel website at www.mypinkyup.com, the name of which comes from his permanently damaged little finger courtesy of some muggers in Columbia.

Mike and I are both excited to hike the biggest, baddest, bestest trail Zion has to offer and eagerly sign up for the next morning.
Signing five different waivers about the dangers only makes us more excited….

-Dan

Infront of the Grand Tetons

I cross the small river in bare feet, which immediately go completely numb. I jump up and down on the spot for a few minutes inducing painful pins and needles while trying to eye off the soaking potential of the spring. Hot water flows 5 meters (15 feet) down a rock face to a two-person rock pool. Every attempt has been made to deny access to the river water, but I quickly find the attempt is futile. I soak for only five minutes, unable to tolerate the uncooperative freezing water finding it’s way in from bottom of the pool.
The setting is first class, very close to the spectacular falls and I’m sure the spring can be amazing, when the river is cooperating.

Granite Hot Spring

I camp nearby, at a beautiful campsite on the river’s edge and endure another night well below freezing. My tent is covered by a thick sheet of ice in the morning so I am happy to linger in the morning sun while it slowly melts and evaporates.

I’ve been thinking about it over and over and today is the day – I want to drive a long way south to escape the relentless advance of winter. I find Wyoming a beautiful, relaxed state and am pleased I get to drive the length of it from north to south. Entering Utah the mountains fade in my mirrors and give way to arid desert, with bizarre rock formations the likes of which I have never before seen.
The earth here is bright red, desert red, and I am strongly reminded of the town I grew up in in rural Australia.

Words can’t convey how elated I am to be out hiking in shorts and t-shirt upon my arrival in Arches National Park – the first time I’ve felt the hot sun in what feels like weeks. I’ve been looking forward to a solid hike and set out to tackle the Devil’s Garden Loop, 8.8 miles of packed sightseeing. The trail begins wide and flat allowing for the many hundreds of people making the short trip to Landscape Arch, a clear and deserving favorite. Soon the trail is narrow & faint as it twists and turns it’s way from one natural arch to the next.

Landscape Arch

Double O Arch

The loop is very spectacular and it feels great to pound out a fast pace in the hot morning sun.

The view through Partition Arch

Typical of the landscape in Arches

I’m told Delicate Arch is one of the best in the park and so I find it impossible to pass up the 3 mile uphill hike. I’m surprised when I soon pass a sign “Petroglyphs”, leading down a small, unused trail. I’ve always found things of this nature extremely interesting and can’t believe more people are not taking the tiny detour. I find the drawings (circa 1650-1850) extremely clear and detailed and can’t believe there is not another person in sight!

Petroglyphs clear as can be

The hike up is very impressive, climbing over rock, sand and skirting the edge of a very high cliff with no safety fences in sight. The arch itself is impressive to say the least, so I sit to enjoying it, chatting to a German couple for the better part of an hour.

Delicate Arch

I’ve had a really good feeling for the entire day and it’s capped off sitting on the warm rocks in the early afternoon chatting and laughing so easily.

Loving the sunshine at Arches

It turns out my National Park Grand Tour™ is just warming up…

Window Arch in the distance

-Dan

Driving across Idaho

I briefly touch into Montana and enter the park at West Yellowstone – what a zoo that place is. It has one of every tourist trap possible and then some. I am strongly reminded of Niagara Falls on the Canadian side.

Upon entering the park, I learn that three major roads are closed; one for roadwork for the season, one because they can’t find a snow plow and one because there is a ton of smoke on the road from a nearby forest fire. This last one does open for very short periods a couple of times a day, so I’ll have to actually plan ahead if I want to make it to the North end of the park.

I start out driving South, through the geothermal region of the park. I knew about the geyser called Old Faithful, but I had no idea the amount of geothermal activity in the park. There are six or eight places to stop and walk along a boardwalk to see countless hot springs, geysers and geothermal activity in general.

Geothermal colors are everywhere

Being such a hot spring nut I’m overjoyed with all of this and happily wander around taking everything in. It is so cold outside steam is everywhere, sometimes so thick it’s difficult to see the boardwalk I’m trying to stay on. It snows lightly on and off throughout the day.

Steam was rising in every direction

Most of the geysers are steaming, sometimes bubbling a little and the occasional one is fully erupting, spitting boiling hot water and steam high into the air. Extremely inviting turquoise pools dot the landscape in every direction.

Beautiful turquoise pool

One of my favorite features are small holes in the ground, that are bubbling and steaming quite violently. The noise is close to a roar and some are so loud it’s impossible to carry a conversation with the person standing next to you.

Mini geyser bubbling away

There are literally thousands of people and cars getting around the park, including full tour buses complete with a mega-phone wielding guide who’s goal in life seemed to be irritation. To give you an idea of the sheer volume of people in the park, the ‘exit’ for Old Faithful is a full-blow freeway overpass, complete with on and off ramps.
Yep, all of that inside a National Park.

Geyser in full eruption

I arrive at Old Faithful in time to see the tail end of an eruption, water and steam being shot 10 meters (30 feet) into the air. I wander around and find myself on a hiking trail up behind Old Faithful to a lookout, that continues to more springs and geysers. There are no people here and it’s really nice to have some alone time for the first time in the park.

Old Faithful in 'natural' setting

The walk is really beautiful and I find myself at Solitary Geyser – a fairly tame looking pool with the occasional bubble rising to the surface. The information sign says it erupts about every five to seven minutes, so I sit down on a log and wait for the show. The bubbles become more frequent, so I get my camera ready, not sure what to expect. Without any further warning the entire pool rises up as a huge ‘bubble’ in a single massive outburst. I’m sitting close enough that my boots get wet when the hot water comes back down and the pool is completely still again.
That was cool.

Solitary geyser gave me a scare when it errupted

Mystic falls, with steam at the top

I set up camp and cook dinner in the pitch black while it’s snowing heavily.

‘OK’, I think
‘I’ve had enough of this winter camping’.

In the morning I intentionally sleep in till 9am, waiting for the sun to rise to warm everything up. The thermometer hanging in the Jeep says -12 ˚C (10 ˚F) and even my full 35 liter water container is almost frozen solid. Yep, I thought it was cold last night

It was hard not to jump in...

The road closures mean it will take an entire day of driving to get to Mammoth Hot Springs at the north end of the park, a place that comes very highly recommended. A lot of snow fell last night, so I would not be surprised if more roads are now closed. I completely lose feeling in my hands while packing up camp, which helps me make the decision I was already leaning towards…

I’m driving South, right now.

I enjoyed what I saw of Yellowstone, but I can’t help thinking something is a little wrong with the place. Many thousands of people were driving around, shuffling out of their cars for a few minutes before driving around to the next place. I saw plenty of people that didn’t even get out, taking photos from inside their cars.
I’ve come to think of it as ‘drive-thru wilderness’ – that sounds crazy I know, but that’s exactly how it is.
I’m sure it would be a different story if I hit some of the back-country hiking trails.

This one was really deep

What’s next? I don’t know, something South. I hope it warms up soon

-Dan

So much for escaping winter...

I had hoped to make the hike into Bear Valley Hot Springs, but another road closure meant it was out of the question, so I continue hunting elsewhere. Back on the highway the Sawtooth Mountains jump out at me like they are alive. I’m not sure if it’s the fresh coat of snow, strange lighting or my cold altered brain, but I think these pictures capture it well.

The mighty Sawtooth Mountains

The fresh coat of snow adds something I think

Something about the lighting too

First up for the day is Elkhorn Hot Spring, aka. The “Boat Box”. My guidebook mentions an all-important cold water feed which I can’t locate. The water feels waaaaay too hot and it’s snowing hard so I move on without a soak.

The extremely hot tub at Elkhorn Hot Spring

Basin Creek (Kem) Hot Spring is just a little down the road and sits between the highway and the river. A small amount of hot water feeds some natural rock pools right at river level. Again I can’t seem to find a ‘just right’ pool, so I move on.

The pools at Basin Creek Hot Spring

Ample amounts of very hot water flow under the highway and feed several rock pools at Sunbeam Hot Springs. I’m eager for my first soak of the day and jump in without really testing the temperature of each pool. I’m a little disappointed to find this is another where the spring water is so hot and the river water so cold it’s difficult to find the sweet spot. I stay barely five minutes, not long enough to even warm up.

Rock pools at Sunbeam Hot Spring

The snow is coming down hard now, so much so that driving is becoming a two-handed affair as the Jeep gets skittish around corners. I’m seriously weighing my options here… should I continue North to possibly the best hot spring in Idaho and across to Yellowstone or should I bail on the whole idea and jet South ASAP?
When it snows hard I want to drive South, when it clears a little, I want to continue North.

You know I’ll make the right decision

-Dan

Campground Hot Spring, not much to look at but a great soak

Next up is Pine Flats Hot Spring, just a little way down the same highway. A short walk is required from a campground to the beautiful setting at the spring. Hot water flows down a rock face into the river for a few hundred meters, with dozens of different hot sources. A rock pool has been made in the gravel bar on the side of the river, but it’s a little on the cold side.

The first soaking pool at Pine Flats Hot Spring

Walking further along the river for a hundred feet or so yields the goods – a 30 foot hot waterfall drops directly into a crystal clear soaking pool at the ideal temperature. The setting here is amazing right on the side of the bubbling river, with not a person or man made object in sight and I had a fantastic soak.
The whole area reminded me a lot of Dewar Creek Hot Spring in British Columbia.

The magic pool below the waterfall at Pine Flats Hot Spring

I reluctantly pulled myself away, promising another spring quickly
The very popular Kirkham Hot Spring is next on my list  – again this spring sits on the bank of the same river, just on the other side. A campground and day use area provide access, where ample hot water flows over rocks into the river. Around ten haphazard pools had been created, and it was clear they come and go with the height of the river.

Kirkham Hot Spring pools riverside

It is a quiet day and I shared my soak with two other people, who were happy to recommend my next stop. I spot some great swimming holes in the river which would be amazing on a hot day.

Kirkham Hot Spring falls

I eat lunch quickly and move onto the much-hyped Bonneville Hot Spring. This one is a couple of miles off the main highway and again a campground and day use area are close by. A short walk along the creek leads to a kind of meadow where a staggering amount of very very hot water gushes out of the hillside, across the meadow and cascades over a rock ledge to many pools below. A single wooden bathing house sits in the meadow, but I am not interested in being inside.

The hillside at Bonneville Hot Spring, bathing house visible in background

The pools close to the waterfalls are much too hot for me, so I wander downstream to find pools that have a good mix of hot and creek cold. Unfortunately Bonneville suffers from being too hot, which sounds crazy I know.

The soaking pools at Bonneville Hot Spring

I couldn’t find the sweet spot, so one side of me is scalding hot while the other is freezing cold. The spring came very highly recommended though, so I can only assume I came at the wrong time in terms of the height of the creek water.

A lonesome pool upstream at Bonneville

My last stop for the day is Sacajawea Hot Spring, a small detour down some forest roads. About ten or so rock pools have been made on the side of a river that catch the hot spring water trickling down. Rocks can be adjusted to allow in more or less river water to find the perfect soaking temperature. This spring is quite different from the others I’ve seen in that there was not an abundance of hot water, no waterfalls and also the soaking area is very open so there is no feeling of being cramped in like some of the others. I stay for hours, lying around in the perfect temperature shallow pools.

Riverside soaking is the way at Sacajawea Hot Spring

I find a great back country campsite on the side of a small creek with no one around for miles and for the first time in a long time I can really feel the cold in the air. Pretty soon I am wearing all my thermals and rain gear as it starts to pour.

I pull the strings on my sleeping bag into full mummy mode throughly excited for the cold – for some reason I feel more adventurous when the going gets a little tougher.

If only I knew how cold it was going to get…

-Dan

Arriving at the spring I’m excited to meet Ken and Harley, the two guys that made the spring usable back in 1995. They carried up about 50 bags of cement and a ton of piping, fittings and valves all by themselves to create pools just perfect for soaking. The majority of the plumbing is used to actually divert hot water, there is so much of it. It’s cool to chat to these two hot spring old-timers about the pros and cons of building up a hot spring with concrete and plastic Vs. leaving it entirely natural. We also discuss the problems associated with attracting the ‘loud music & beer’ crowd.

The hot water source at Skinnydipper Hot Spring

I soak for an hour or two then wander around the area investigating the source and all the plumbing. I didn’t get any pics of the soaking pools because, well, they were in use at the time

Some of the runoff at Skinnydipper Hot Spring

All-in-all a fantastic hot spring with some really friendly people to chat to.

Everyone highly recommended Rocky Canyon Hot Spring, so off I went. This spring has also had quite a lot of work done – a few years ago a guy singlehandedly built many swallow-like pools on the side of a steep rock face to make for some superb soaking. The upper pools are just too warm for me to stay completely submerged, and they drop maybe a degree for each successive pool down so finding the perfect spot is not too difficult. Each pool has a drain pipe with plug and any overflow just goes right down to the next pool. They also have a very fine sandy bottom which is perfect for eliminating slime. The spring water is crystal clear, has not even a trace of sulfur smell and there is plenty of it.

The river and pools at Rocky Canyon Hot Spring

Getting to the spring requires a walk across the river, which at this time of year was not more than a foot deep, but quite cold.
I stay two days at this spring at times having it all to myself, other times meeting people, chatting and watching families of ducks navigate the little rapids on the river. One family had so much fun, they got out, walked back to the top and did it all again – at times the little guys were going completely underwater, and they seemed to love it!

The choices are hard to beat at Rocky Canyon Hot Spring

Rocky Canyon is definitely in my top five all time favorites.

The hot spring hunting continues…

-Dan

Dan & Jeff too early in the morning...

I catch up to Jeff, Randy and Paul halfway through floating the Clackamas River on an amazing 90 degree day. I appear very briefly in the following video, taken by Paul while floating that afternoon. I think it gives a pretty clear picture of how much fun we are having – tons!

I stay with Jeff, his girlfriend Andee and cousin Mikey for about ten days, during which time we get into all sorts of trouble and have any number of adventures. I was very remiss with my camera and have photos of next to nothing. My memories are also slightly foggy just for fun.

I’ll do by best to recount the highlights:

• Mikey inviting us to party on a boat moored in the marina. Mikey passed out before we arrived, leaving us to endlessly sing the hilarious lines from “I’m on a boat” and generally cause trouble in downtown Portland.(If you haven’t seen the video for that song, go watch it now)

• Our traditional Bagby Hot Springs trip – Jeff ended up fighting the forest, I walked into camp long after the sun had come up minus one flip-flop, Jeff lost his cell phone and we all laugh hysterically and shake our heads whenever we mention the trip.

Bagby hot springs

• Many, many rounds of disc golf on practically every nearby course. We played multiple rounds at Pier Park, Lunchtime, Timber Park, Rooster Rock and the incredibly long McIver Park. One hole at McIver is a 1,186 feet par 5! I played a minimum of 18 holes every single day, which improved my game a lot.

• Games of pool with Spencer – at one time winning competitions was his full time job and I’ve never seen anyone that can play like him. In our first game he ran the table off the break, never once looking like he was even trying. Everything he does is very well thought out and he’s very happy to share and answer the ten thousand questions I throw at him.

• Driving everyone to work then having to find my own way home through downtown Portland. I got lost twice, but having nowhere else to be meant I enjoyed the drive all the more

• Going fishing in a stocked pond and paying for the fish we caught. Three extremely fresh fish for $11 is a pretty good deal if you ask me.

• Randy and I took a drive down to hike the Silver Falls loop trail – a trail that boasts ten waterfalls in only eight miles. The hike was fantastic and we decided the two dry falls should just be called cliffs.

Randy admiring a waterfall

Once again I had an awesome time in Portland and can’t wait to see the crew again sometime.

The afternoon sun was brilliant

-Dan

I’ve picked up Mike’s cold and I am tired, hungry and grumpy when I arrive in the USA in the dark – what better place to cheer me up than a Hot Spring? I camp inside Olympic National Park and make my way to the spring first thing in the morning. The walk in is a beautiful couple of miles through thick forest. There are around ten natural rock pools strung out for a few hundred yards above a bubbling creek below. Most pools are about ten feet across, a foot or two deep and right in the perfect body temperature range.

Olympic Hot Spring 1

I soak for hours in the cool morning, thinking about nothing in particular.

Olympic Hot Spring 2

I move slowly down the Washington coast with a couple of days of annoying on-again, off-again rain and before long everything is soaked, even my cold affected mood. Every chance I get I’m drying things on the hood of the Jeep which is very effective – my tent takes only 20 minutes from soaked to bone dry which is a relief.

I get a message on my website from Shane and Amy who spotted my Jeep in a shopping center parking lot. They spent a year driving around the USA and were very keen to meet a fellow road-tripper. On their site, www.ayearatthewheel.com you can read how they drove around the country just before the election gathering thoughts and opinions from people from all walks of life. They did all this with less than $200 in their pocket. We chat all afternoon and long into the night about everything and nothing all at the same time. It’s very inspiring to meet people that are so aware of their surroundings and the choices that can be made every day.

Astoria and the mouth of the Columbia river

I continue south into Oregon and camp a night near Astoria, a beautiful seaside town on the mouth of the Columbia River. The Oregon coastline is every bit as beautiful as I remember and I’m in no real hurry to go anywhere.

Swell rolling into the Oregon coast

-Dan

We are the only people in camp when we return from our walk to the Carmanah Giant, everyone else has walked the 30 mins to the Indian Reservation where a burger can be bought for $15 and beer for $7. We watch a couple of whales surfacing out in the bay until the sun goes down, completely happy with our de-hydrated hiking food. It occurs to us that we are not tempted by the burgers and beer because we are not sacrificing anything to be here. If we wanted to be eating burgers and drinking beer, we’d be sitting on a couch doing that.

Beautiful in the sunshine

The next morning we set out to hike around the point below the Carmanah Lighthouse. The lighthouse keeper tells us that many people turn back from the seaweed covered cliff, which makes us all the more determined.

At times we climbed vertical rock to stay ocean side

At one point the going gets so hairy we all assess the situation and give the OK before we move forward as a group. Rock climbing with a pack tuns out to be quite the challenge and I don’t move a muscle when a wave comes in while my foot is on a low rock, perfectly happy to get a soaked boot instead of scrambling and maybe slipping into the waves.

Hiking the beach

We continue along the beach, rock shelf and finally move inland again. We are dumbfounded by the state of disrepair the boardwalks are in. Broken and rotting boards are everywhere, the entire structures are slanted in all directions, they move under our feet, have rusty nails sticking out all over and are extremely slippery. None of us has ever seen a trail in such a state of decay and agree it would be much safer to just remove the rotting boardwalks altogether. It is becoming very clear why there is almost one rescue per day on this trail.

Mike amused at the state of the boardwalks

We arrive at the Nitnat Narrows ferry to see hikers eating salmon, crab and drinking expensive beer. This is another place the natives have found their captive audience and are making a killing. The Nitnat Narrows are a tidal inlet that feed a lake and as such have massive incoming and outgoing currents as the water lags behind the tides. We heard a story of one guy swimming across, but it’s not something we are about to try.

The trail got all Indiana Jones at times

The official trail map has one interesting bullet point we discuss at length:

• Assume all surfaces are slippery

We decide the word ‘assume’ could safely be removed after we all take a fall or two. My best effort was while walking along the ocean side rock shelf, in about two or three centimeters of water. After slipping a couple of times and slowing down, I completely loose it and land on my butt and pack in the shallow water getting completely soaked and putting a big dent in my pride. When Mike sees me he bursts out laughing and the three of us are instantly in hysterics. Roger loves that our first reaction is to burst out laughing at each other, then ask if the fallen party is injured.

Mike & Roger

We continue inland and on the beaches to Tsusiat Falls, our campsite for the night after 21 km. We’ve been told the falls can be very spectacular during a high rainfall year, but they are not much more than slightly impressive during our visit. Mike declares he has a cold and puts himself to bed the minute I get the tent set up. At first, he won’t even get out of bed to eat dinner – but I finally manage to convince him to eat something and he’s happier for it.

The not so mighty Tsusiat Falls

It rains overnight and into the morning, but me manage to pack-up in a brief respite and after an hour of walking we can see the day will be clear. We only have 13 km to walk for the day and really enjoy ourselves – relaxing into the hiking routines and taking our time at lunch. Sitting around the campfire at Michigan Creek that night all the northbound hikers are in high spirits – we have only one short day to hike.

Sunset behind a cable car (Carmanah Creek)

Our fifth and final day we wake to seriously heavy rain and try to keep our spirits high by saying it wouldn’t be an authentic West Coast Trail Experience™ without some solid rain. By the time we cook breakfast and pack-up we are completely soaked, though knowing we have only 12 km to finish gets us going.

At times the boadwalks are endless

The trail here is all inland and although it’s not as difficult as the other end of the trail, all of the mud patches are deeper, the surfaces are slipperier and most times a small creek runs down the trail. It makes us all realize how different the hike would be if it rained solidly for five days – we are covered in mud and it’s next to impossible to keep everything dry. Passing hikers walking in the other direction I notice how clean they look and how nice they smell. Is that makeup I see?

I smile ear to ear as it occurs to me I am now the guy that reeks of campfire.

Roger, Mike & Dan at the end of the trail!

-Dan

Much like the Chilkoot, the First Nations people of the area had been using the trail for hundreds of years before foreign sailing ships came into the picture. The rugged coastline claimed many unsuspecting ships and so from 1888 to 1890 the government built a telegraph line on the trail in the hopes of saving lives through better communications. Twenty odd years later a second lighthouse was constructed and the trail was greatly improved to act as a life saving route for shipwreck victims. As technology improved shipwrecks became a thing of the past and the trail was abandoned until 1973 when it became part of the newly established Pacific Rim National Park.

Today the 75 km trail is by far the most famous in Canada, often making an appearance on lists of the world’s best hiking trails.

Port Renfrew seems to brew it’s own weather, mostly of the oceanside misty, damp kind. Our tent is soaking wet in the morning, which we think is rain but turns out to just be ocean mist/fog that settles on everything. Amped to get hiking we amble into the ranger station and discover we’ll have to wait until the following day before we can begin. The number of hikers per day is limited and a reservation cost an extra $25 each so we thought we would just wing it. While we’re there we pay the hiking fee of $160 each and sit through the hour or so introduction which is useful, but really only makes us wish we were hiking today. We spend the day organizing gear, walking around town and drinking cheap coffee.
Camp for the night is beachside and free

Early the next morning we drop off my Jeep in a secure parking lot (for $18) and get a ride to the starting point – a ferry across Gordon River. Everyone is hugely entertained weighing their packs when we discover a set of scales hanging nearby. Mike at I ring in at 36 and 40 pounds respectively, which is 10 pounds lighter than the next nearest hiker. One guy about half my size has 62 pounds. Ouch. The other hikers are keen to talk about how long we’ve planned for the hike and are quite taken aback when we shrug our shoulders and grin our usual answer to such questions; “As long as it takes”.

Mike and Dan starting The West Coast Trail

Happy at my own pace, Mike quickly disappears into the misty fog that surrounds us. We’ve been told over and over the first 10 km we encounter are the hardest of the entire trail. Most people prefer to start at the other end and cover this ground on their last day when their packs are lighter – I am happy to tackle it while eager and fresh. Quickly I am in the thick of it; mud, tree roots, uphill, downhill, bridges and ladders and all of it very very slippery. It’s been one of the driest summers on record, so I can only imagine what it’s like in a rainy year. Passing people hiking in the opposite direction I notice how tired and muddy they all are, not to mention they all reek of campfire.

The scale of the trail...

By the time I catch up with Mike he has made a friend, Roger from the Netherlands who moves at a similar rapid pace. In many places along the trail we can choose between staying inland or hiking along beaches. We’ve been told over and over again to take the beach option whenever we can, so we head down a string of ladders to Thrasher Cove, our lunch stop.

Dropping down some stairs

Mike cooking lunch in the sun

Hiking around Owen Point requires the tides to be just right, so we wait a couple of hours in the amazing sunshine and head out right as the tide is going down. Some great rock-hopping is required and throughly enjoyed by all. Owen Point has beautiful colored rock formations and we stumble upon an alternate trail that has us use ropes to go up vertical rock and over the still too-high tide.

Mike in the rock formations at Owen Point

We follow the beach around, head inland for a few kilometers, use our first cable car with much calamity and arrive at Camper Bay, our stop for the night after 12 km.

Roger and Mike in a cable car

The number of people here is mind-blowing – I count 14 tents in view when we arrive, with more being set up by the minute. We bump into some people from our ferry earlier in the day, including the guy with 62 pounds. They hiked inland for the entire day and did not look like they were having any fun at all on the rooty, muddy trail.

Mike navigating the endless mud

The next day we have a stretch of inland hiking that has an impressive vertical drop of about six ladders immediately followed by six more straight back up.

Going up?

Navigating the one and only river crossing on the trail is disappointingly only a trickle that we walk straight across.

We love these high logs, called 'Nerve Testers'

Walking along the beach and rock shelf is a great way to finish the 16 km for the day at Carmanah Creek campsite. We quickly throw everything in our tents and start walking up Carmanah Creek, happy to be rid of our packs. Jeff from Seafun told us about the world’s largest sitka spruce tree, the Carmanah Giant which lies only a kilometer up the creek from the campsite. Rock-hopping with tired legs is hilarious and we all inevitably get a boot wet in the creek, laughing the whole time. The trunk of the giant is much much bigger than any other tree at 3 meters, and even though it’s right at river level, it towers over all the other trees growing higher up the valley wall.

The Carmanah Giant complete with tree hugger

Dan & Mike beach hiking

There is plenty more to come on this one…

-Dan

Driving the Jeep

We leave Mike’s motorbike in Horseshoe Bay and catch the ferry to Langdale, where we meet Bill’s brother David and his wife Barbara. David and Barbara drove to and around South America for their honeymoon and we spend many hours looking at mind-blowing photos and hearing stories of civil war, flat tires and good times.

Mike, David, Barbara & Dan enjoying the view

David tells one story of being the first people to drive a road in the Amazon after the rainy season, a few hundred kilometers winds up taking six days of crazy full-on adventure I can only dream about.
I lie awake for hours at night, too excited to sleep.

Mike & Dan camping together

We drive north along The Sunshine coast, passing gorgeous seaside towns every twenty kilometers or so. It winds up being a day of ferry crossings, first to Powell River then another to Comox, where we find one of my better guerrilla campsites. What a view.

The view from one of our "campsites"

In the morning we play a quick nine holes of disc golf at Mt. Washington, then drive down to Nanimo for another eighteen. We catch up with Judy (from the Chilkoot Trail) and Kirby, who fill our heads with stories and pictures of The West Coast Trail, our next adventure. We play another eighteen holes in the morning and I finally beat mike on the playoff hole.

It doesn’t take us long to meet up with a good friend Joel when we arrive in Victoria, and we are shortly enjoying a beer and takeout noodles in the afternoon sun. Budget be dammed. I’d forgotten how similar Victoria is to Melbourne and it takes us no time at all to enjoy the sights and sounds.

In the morning we jump aboard a Seafun Safaris boat, bound for some whale watching. I’ve never been before and it is quite the experience. Boats are not allowed to use their engines within 100 meters of whales so the basic idea is to get into a position where you think the whales are coming, cut the engines and wait.

All geared up to go whale watching

We wait only a few minuets when a female Orca surfaces just 15 meters from the boat, noisily exhaling in a plume of water. Our captain Jeff tells us she is “Grandma” the oldest and leader of this pod, at 98 years old. Soon afterwards a male, with a massive dorsal fin surfaces also very close to the boat – this one is “Ruffles” so named because the shape of his dorsal fin resembles a Ruffles potato chip. As we float around we see Orca from this pod in all shapes and sizes – big, small, nursing young and some just cruising around completely ignoring us.

Killer whale called "Ruffles"

Jeff has been whale watching for 10+ years and it shows – his knowledge and expertise are very impressive and we have a fantastic morning outing to see killer whales in their natural environment.

-Dan

A few tests in the morning show the hill is steep enough to turn over the engine while in reverse.
Good to know.

Sloquet Hot Spring waterfall

The hot spring is just as beautiful as I remember; hot water cascades over a waterfall and flows down through a series of pools that start at insanely hot and go all the way down to river level and temperature. Once again we have the spring to ourselves for an evening soak filled with star gazing.

Main soaking pool

A morning soak is by now a much enjoyed habit.

More soaking pools

Mike and I have just visited six undeveloped hot springs in two days! Yep. it’s an addiction

-Dan

Crossing a creek in Jeep

We pack camping gear and food into backpacks and hike down the very steep trail to a great camping area close to the river. A group of seven already at the site welcome us to join them. They turn out to be more interested in drinking than soaking, so we have the springs to ourselves.

Hot water comes out of cracks in the rock for a few hundred meters almost a the water line of the Lillooet River In some places, pools have been made out of sand but they are hardly used and slimy.

Pebble/Keyhole Hot Springs tufa

A lot of effort has been made to capture the hottest water, again off the scale on my little thermometer. People have built soaking tubs out of rock and concrete that are stuck to the side of the rock face much like swallow’s nests.

Pebble/Keyhole hot springs pools

The pools are connected by a series of hidden pipes and taps that can be used to divert the hottest water directly to any tub, or to let it drain into the river. Although it shows a lot of human intervention, the tubs are really great.

Pebble/Keyhole Hot Springs from above

The star gazing while we soak at night is the best I have seen all trip, mostly because the sky is now fully dark. The river roars by just a few meters beside us while we lie in the perfect temperate soaking pool.
I soak again in the morning and we both comment on how clean we feel after soaking for a few hours – not just clean on the outside, but clean all the way through.

We drive further along the gravel road in an attempt to find Keyhole Falls. The river is constricted in a very narrow canyon for a few hundred meters then spews out and down 23 meters to the valley below. We hike a small trail and wind up directly on top of the falls, not the best for viewing but great for seeing who can get closer to the edge

Keyhole Falls from above

-Dan

The leaves are beginning to turn here, a clear sign I need to get moving south and escape winter. I set off on the gravel road to Telegraph Creek which comes highly recommended.
I flash past a sign that says “WARNING: Steep mountain road ahead. Grades up to 20%” before I really have time to read it.
20%? that doesn’t sound right, I must have read it wrong. Still wondering about this, a corner sign whizzes by, then a recommended speed sign of 10 km/h. Ten? I’ve never seen a recommended speed that slow, something must be going on here. I start to gear down and am happy I get into second by the time I get a glimpse of what is coming. When recognition sets in I double-clutch and push hard to notch first gear even though Jeep complains loudly. The corner is a full 180˚ hairpin and without doubt the steepest public road I have ever seen. Even in first gear I have to ride the brakes hard to keep my speed under control.

The highway continues in this fashion for the next 60 kms, hugging the Stakine River the entire way. The river has carved such a huge canyon it’s known as “The Grand Canyon of The Stakine”. The guys that built the road seem to have made it a personal goal to see how close to the edge they could build.

The Grand Canyon of the Stikine

I have no idea what to expect in Telegraph Creek and order a coffee at the only building that looks like it’s for out-of-towners. I spark up a conversation with the cashier, Leaf, about Mt. Edziza and my desire to hike there. It is an extremely remote park on the other side of the river that encompasses a huge volcano, volcanic rock formations, glaciers and high plateaus. With the relatively recent volcanic activity there are also a few hot springs in the park that caught my attention in the first place. I’m pretty hiked out from my recent adventures, so at this point my interest level has dropped to half-hearted. I am told very few people hike in from this side due to an abundance of chest deep beaver dams, $30 one way river crossing and the steep elevation gain. My enthusiasm continues to fall, which I’m not at all sad about, in fact I’m kind of pleased.

It turns out the building we’re sitting in is the original Hudson’s Bay Trading Company building, the one that started it all for Canada. Leaf’s family moved here in the 70′s as part of a “back to the earth movement” – not hippies she says, “these are very hardworking people, they want to do everything for themselves”. Their house is the most beautiful log cabin I have ever seen, and constructed more precisely than most city buildings.
We talk long into the night, and Leaf’s mum Lynn is bursting with pride about the life and home she has created for her family. She’s a little annoyed she had to go to work for six weeks this year and assures me it will be less next year.
I can’t help thinking that most people would be elated if they got six weeks of leave time.

I drive south the next morning and I know that I am rushing, the one thing I said I would not do on this trip. I’m really excited to see my brother soon so I don’t care. I want to rush. I want to be hanging out with him right now. It’s raining now, the first continuous rain I have seen in two months. I’m cold and tired, so I pay $12 for a campground in Stewart that has a hot shower. In the morning I cross the border into Hyder, Alaska which bizarrely has no customs or government presence at all, I just drive straight on in.

Glacier on the drive to Stewart

Hyder is known as the bear capital of North America, so I make a stop at Bear Creek and wander down the boardwalk to see what all the fuss is about. I’m amused by the throngs of paparazzi with telephoto lenses jostling for position on any bears that might unsuspectingly show up for lunch. I wait all of 20 seconds to see a grizzly sow swim across the small pond 20 meters in front of us. Cameras go crazy and everyone “ohhhs” and “ahhhs” as if on command. The bear walks under the boardwalk and everyone sits transfixed in place, still staring where the bear used to be. I look around and start thinking about where the bear will re-appear. As I trace the route in my mind, I begin to walk; it must have gone under there, around that and behind this. Bam. The grizzly appears less than 3 meters away, strolling down the river looking for salmon. I’m the only person to have solved the riddle and so I walk down the boardwalk alone, parallel to the bear for 40 meters snapping photos and being thoroughly entertained by it’s behavior. Once she has had her fill, everyone else seems to realize and comes running down the boardwalk, just in time to see her disappear into the bushes.

Step one: wander around the river looking for a juicy salmon

Step two: swat at the salmon

Step three: that would be lunch

I drive up a very windy, steep gravel road that has more glaciers per kilometer than anywhere I’ve been yet. I drive and drive until I’m in the clouds and can hardly see the front of the Jeep let alone any more glaciers. The view from the top is nil.

Another glacier

On Mark’s recommendation I continue along the road, dropping down into the next valley jam packed with glaciers until eventually hitting barriers where there is active mining.

A glacier in the clear

Enjoying the view

-Dan

Deer River Hot Springs, in my mind, is the pinnacle of remote hot springs in British Columbia, probably even all of Canada. Large, hot and so remote that it’s almost impossible to hike to. Almost. This spring is so remote that Glenn Woodsworth, the guy who literally wrote the book on hot springs in Canada has not been to them.

A few tantalizing snippets from his book, Hot Springs of Western Canada follow:

…they are seldom visited despite being large and hot…

…follow an old trail for about 16km up the Liard River… follow the Deer River for 13km upstream…

…people have become lost…

…the springs may have the largest total volume of all the springs in Canada…

No co-ordinates are given, and no pictures shown. I’m not sure if it’s the extremely brief details, the lure of “large and hot” or the possibility of the largest total volume in all of Canada – something about this spring draws in hot spring enthusiasts better than any other.

My friend tried on four separate occasions, driving a total of more than 4000kms before actually reaching this spring. I could see the sense of achievement in his eyes and hear it in his voice – he spent a lot of time and effort on this one, and he got there. With his help I spent over a month planning, talking to locals, buying maps, doing google searches and planning some more before I made my attempt. For this reason I feel strongly about keeping my exact route to myself. If there is one hot spring out there that remains the ultimate challenge to find, I think it should be this one. I hope detailed directions are never published, every person should experience the adventure for themselves and they will come away felling on top of the world.

If you ever plan on visiting the springs yourself, I mean seriously plan on visiting them, I urge you to not read any further. I go into quite a lot of detail about the landscape and have tons of photos mostly for those people that will never get the chance to visit themselves. I think you will enjoy the springs a lot more if they are as much a mystery to you as they were to me.
Stop now if you don’t want to spoil the mystery.

Safe to say there was an ungodly amount of bush whacking involved, so much so that I slumped down on the ground on two separate occasions completely ready to give up and turn around. I couldn’t help thinking that every step I took was a step further from civilization as well as another step I would have to take on the return trip. Falling in the frigid Deer River and getting soaked from head to toe did nothing to help my spirits – it would have been game over for this attempt if my down sleeping bag had gotten wet, luckily my dry bag held and I was able to continue.

Wow, just wow

Arriving at the springs was quite surreal, all my estimates said I still had a few kilometers to go, so I was quite taken aback and elated the hunt was over. The main pool was exactly as it had been described to me. About 10 meters across, a few meters deep and the most amazing shade of turquoise-blue that seemed to change every time the sun hit it from a different angle.

Pretty excited to have made it...

The book elusively reported the temperate as 32 or 42 degrees, so I was unsure of which to expect.
My thermometer showed spot on 32 after being underwater for a good 10 minutes.

Deer River Hot Springs temperature after 10 mins underwater

This large pool had water swelling and bubbling up from it’s centre, with a very high, deceiving rate of flow. In all of the following pictures, all of the water is coming from this one pool – which is a lot to put it mildly. The bottom of the pool was extremely fine sand or silt, and behaved quite like quicksand – a fine sand with water and gas moving up through it. After I stood in it for a few minutes my feet were completely gone and it was difficult to pull them out. The silt was so fine that walking on the bottom stirred up a huge mess that took a few minutes to settle.

Disturbing the silt by walking

The water flows from the main pool along a series of streams and cascades over 3 separate waterfalls into Deer River, which is really more like a creek at this point. The entire area is extremely beautiful, although I was surprised at the lack of rainforest-like greenery which was abundant on the sides of Deer River.

The hot streams from the main pool to the waterfalls

In an area like this there are many delicate organisms and plants so I had to be extremely careful where I was stepping. I also camped a few hundred meters away from the spring to give animals access to it during the night.

Cascading pools of hot water

Happily, it was almost impossible to tell if humans had ever been there before, I didn’t see a single piece of trash. There was a very small fire site, logs had been moved to form a crude circle and some trees had been cut down using saws. All of this seemed very old and took me a while to notice.

Sitting in the waterfall was amazing...

Same waterfall, showing the pools below

All afternoon I soaked, worked on my tan and soaked some more, thoroughly enjoying having the springs all to myself. Another unique aspect of this spring is the ability to swim – not just lie around or splash to and fro, I mean serious swimming. I’m not sure I’ve ever done that at a natural spring before.

Swimming around the big pool, disturbed silt in foreground

I couldn’t help but think about how these springs had been sitting here, bubbling away for hundreds or maybe thousands of years, and will continue to do so for a long time to come.

Bigger hot waterfall, going directly into Deer River

I didn’t see a single large critter the whole time I was out, a couple of times things crashed through the bushes ahead of me and in the middle of the night I heard a large hoofed animal walk right past my tent, probably a moose going to soak in the springs. Others I had spoken to descried the springs as ‘bear infested’, including some chopper pilots who said ‘Oh, that place. There are always too many bears around for us to land.’ I thought of these happy thoughts as I drifted off to sleep.

Steam in the morning sun

When it was time to leave I bush whacked a little further from the river looking for easier going and, lo and behold, about 500 meters south of the big pool I saw steam in the meadow, lots of steam. I had no idea there were more vents and was extremely excited at this development. Hot water literally flows out of the base of the hillside forming a river of it’s own. The major one I took a photo of had a flow rate greater than most hot springs I have been to.

The main hot vent with very high flow rate

This river was several hundred meters long and continued to pickup more water as it went, sometimes it was bubbling up from the bottom of pools, sometimes flowing out of muddy swamp-like areas. My thermometer at the ready I was eager to discover the 42 degree vent, but it was not to be. The vast majority of the vents were within a degree or maybe two of the big pool, the only outliers were significantly colder. This area of the meadow was still in shadow, accounting for all the ‘extra’ steam that I was so excited about.

The hot river with many vents along it

The flow rate in the big pool was already the highest I’ve ever seen in a natural spring, when combined with these other vents, I think it must be one of the highest in Canada, if not the highest.

An amazing trip & I’m certain I’ll go back one day.
Not soon, but one day.

-Dan

Dan and Bill on Bennett Lake

We checked and double-checked and made a group decision to cross, knowing full well we were all dead if we capsized. As Brett very calmly stated “If a grizzly bear falls out of the sky into the canoe right now, we’re not capsizing this boat”. We made it across with no problems at all, and just as we were nearing shore I hooked onto a 6lb lake trout – Bill was so excited there were a few tense moments of rocking side to side. We managed to keep things under control and got it aboard.

Very proud Dan with his lake trout

Later in the day we pulled the canoe up a small creek to the most amazing lake I have ever seen – perfectly calm and tucked in between snow-capped peaks. I’m not supposed to name the lake, so I won’t and please don’t ask.

Pulling up the small creek to the unamed lake

We stayed on the lake for two nights – we explored the entire length while fishing, swimming and enjoying ourselves immensely. Bill caught three Arctic Grayling which were just as tasty as the lake trout. One evening we again emptied the canoe and played around in the moving water of the creek. Brett showed me all his whitewater moves which were great fun and Bill and I were like maniacs zig-zagging this way and that, more or less in control.

The three amigos at the unamed lake, lake trout cooking on the fire

As seems to be common for my trip in the north, there were lots of huge wildfires burning not far away, so the visibility dropped to almost zero when the smoke rolled in. We had planned to paddle the entire length of the west arm, but now that we couldn’t see the mountains lining the shore, we decided to cut it short and head somewhat for home.

On the smokey lake

Again we crossed the arm and luckily managed to avoid all falling grizzlies. We found another gorgeous campsite and quietly watched the blood-red sun set behind the silhouetted mountains.

The smokey sunset

For our final day we had only to stay close to shore and paddle all the way around to Carcross. The weather was great and the lake very still, but we knew that could change quickly and didn’t dare cross here were the lake is much much wider. We stopped for a swim at every opportunity and jumped in only to run out screaming seconds later

Dan & Brett paddling

What an amazing trip and man-o-man did the victory ice cream taste great!

Arriving at the Carcross takeout safe & sound

-Dan

(Once again A lot of the photos in this article were taken by Brett, credit goes to him.)

For some extra entertainment and paddling experience Brett invited his good friend Bill to be the third member of the trip. The basic plan was to paddle down the Lower Wheaton River to Bennett Lake and explore the lake and surrounds for a few days. Nobody we knew had paddled the lower river before, although we did hear a report from a group that took five days just to get down the river, making us suspect the river would be tough & slow going.

To confirm this suspicion, from the get-go we were ‘lining’ the canoe – walking along the bank holding onto the bow and stern lines to keep it under control as it moved down the current. The water was extremely silty from the glacier melt, which made it very difficult to see underwater hazards. A few corners later we were able to pile into the canoe and paddle away, constantly on the lookout for hazards and always using the calm eddies to re-evaluate our position. Before the trip we talked a lot about how we wanted to be very controlled and cautious – we were not interested in going around any corners blind.

Brett lining the canoe

As we progressed down the whitewater, we were most concerned about two major kinds of hazards:

1. A sweeper is a fallen tree that lies across the river. A sweeper is usually about a foot off the water, allowing the canoe to glide nicely underneath while the occupants will be ‘swept’ out. It can be equally as bad when the sweeper is low enough to stop the canoe – the current will swing it around sideways and swamp it. A sweeper can be partial or river-wide and must be avoided at all costs.
2. A strainer is a pile of logs and sticks that has a significant amount of water flowing through it. If the canoe was to get stuck on the strainer or we capsized upstream and got pulled in, the current would pin us and the canoe to the logs, just like a pasta strainer. We would more than likely be pinned underwater, not a pleasant thought.

Dan in front of a nasty sweeper

The first day involved paddling a few hundred meters then “eddying out” in safer calm water. Once safely in the eddy we all piled out and walked downstream until we had a really good view of what was coming next. Sometimes we would see everything was clear and paddle down to the next eddy and sometimes we would find a river-wide sweeper, which we would line the canoe down. The sun beamed down all day and it was over 30 degrees – we all grinned from ear to ear as we made our way down enjoying the river and everything surrounding it. Brett enjoyed commenting that it was “a busy weekend” and how the place was “too crowded” – of course, we didn’t see another person.

Friendly porcupine that wandered into camp

We came across a couple of oddities as we made our way; the board from a wind surfer that was a little worse for wear, a dead moose calf that had apparently drowned not long ago and the front meter of a canoe smashed around a tree. Seeing the remains of the canoe was an excellent reminder of why we were being so cautious and we were all proud of how well we were keeping it under control.

Dan and Brett loving the river

We chose a sand bank from the one of the three thousand vacant spots and set up camp for the night. Brett and Eva like to eat well on their out-trips so there were no dehydrated meals on this trip – fresh pasta sauce, sausages, cheese, bread, oats with 10 all-organic grains added and everything else tasty and healthy you can imagine. We ate like kings.

Brett cooking dinner at our first campsite

Bill chose to sleep in his “tripping hammock” – a beefy hammock with a bug net, rain fly and very complicated system of ropes for setting it all up. Much hilarity ensued when he wound up lying on the ground on the first few attempts then uprooted a couple of poor little trees that weren’t up to the task.
Brett affectionately nicknamed it the “Bear Burrito” and we both broke down in fits of laughter whenever Bill tried to get in or out of it

Bill in his bear burrito

The next morning we moved further down the river again in the beaming hot sunshine. The river became wider and mellower and we made good time all the way to the mouth at Bennett Lake. Looking out over the lake we were all certain it was the ocean, a four foot swell was rolling in with whitecaps adding menacing touch. The lake water is only a few degrees and Brett explained that rivers don’t often kill people in the Yukon, lakes do. On a nice calm day people happily paddle out into the middle of a lake to cross. The weather changes quickly and whips up waves that capsize the unsuspecting paddlers. With the water temperature so low, the body draws in blood from the limbs to keep the core warm, arms and legs quickly stiffen up and people drown very very quickly without even being aware the lakes are dangerous.

Dan Brett and Bill at Bennett Lake

Later in the afternoon when the waves were even bigger, Brett and I unloaded the canoe and paddled out for some surfing fun. This involved paddling out directly into the waves, which was tricky to manage from the bow because the waves were so big my paddle often didn’t reach the water. Once we were out a good way, we would turn the canoe as fast as possible and paddle like made to catch a wave. I’ve never surfed in a canoe before and it was just as much fun as it sounds. Staying close to shore meant we could just swim in if we got in any trouble, but that wasn’t needed.

Dan and Brett surfing the waves

There is a lot more to come on this trip…..

-Dan

(A lot of the photos posted here were taken by Brett, all credit to him.)

Brett and Eva live about 30 mins from Whitehorse in a beautiful house completely off-grid. Their whole setup includes a guest cabin, a river and creek flowing by, five dogs, two sheep, a mega vegetable garden, a wicked solar setup and running hot and cold water. Further down the road they have a cabin to “get away from it all” that I swear has been used in countless photos as the pinnacle of cabin living. There is no road access, so it’s a half hour hike or a trip across the lake in the freighter canoe. We loaded in the three of us, a ton of gear, five dogs and splashed our way across the whitecaps to the awaiting paradise.

Dan Freighter Canoe

It’s hard to describe how picturesque the the cabin is – it’s a beautiful hand made two story log cabin building tucked in between the lake and the mountains behind.

Approaching Cabin

The sun was beaming down and after getting a bunch of odd jobs finished up it was the most amazing feeling to sit on the deck unable to see or hear signs of people in any direction. I felt like we were 500 miles from anywhere with the entire place to ourselves.

The Cabin

A bald eagle was calling a near-by bluff home so I hiked over to have a closer look. I was about 10 meters from the enormous nest when I got my first good look – just as the eagle took full flight and powered away. Wow.

Bald Eagle

We’ve been doing a ton of things around the place and I have stacks of photos and stories yet to sort through and post online.

Hiking Behind Cabin

I think I’m on top of the recent down-time of my site, I’m still working out some glitches with my hosting and WordPress/plugins in general.

Crazy Captan Brett

-Dan

A pool about 5 meters across and 1 meter deep has 29 degree celsius water bubbling up from it’s gravel bottom. It’s in a beautiful green meadow with mountains as the scenic backdrop.

Atlin Warm Springs

I really enjoyed spending time at this spring, although it’s a little cold for an extended soak.

Atlin warm springs temperature

The second spring is commonly called “The Grotto”. Cool 9 degree celsius water flows at a very high rate out of a natural grotto on the side of the road. I think this may be the highest flow rate of any spring I have ever seen, just not nearly warm enough for a soak.

Atlin Warm Springs Grotto

The third spring is reported to be similar in temperature to the first, but lies on private property where it is used to heat greenhouses.

An excellent detour to soak weary legs.

-Dan

Back in the day

Saturday morning I picked up my $53 USD permit and set out aiming for Sheep Camp, 11.8 miles (18.9kms) from the trailhead. The trail is initially costal rainforest winding it’s way up and down beside the Taiya river.  The Chilkoot has been used for around 700 years by the Tlingit Indians who gathered natural resources from the coast and packed it into the interior to trade with the indians there. About 8 miles (12.8kms) down the trail I arrived at Canyon City ruins, all that remains of a once bustling tent city that at one point had a population of 4,000.

Canyon City Ruins

Wandering around in the woods I found countless rusty tins, tools, broken glass and rotting building foundations – items all discarded when the city disappeared in less than a year.

There were a few of these suspension bridges

During the day I had been overtaking groups of hikers and it was slowly dawning on me just how popular the trail really is. When I arrived at Sheep Camp there were at least 30 people milling about the campsite – chatting, resting and cooking dinner. This is a very popular campsite as it’s the last on the US side and the best staging point for a push to the summit the following day. During the early stages of the stampede the Canadian Mounties (police) quickly realized the stampeders were completely unprepared for the hardships they would face in the Yukon – many had almost no gear and certainly no clue about wilderness travel and survival. The Mounties decided that each stampeder must have with him one ton of gear – enough to last a year in the Yukon. They chose a year as the time period because they figured it would take most people six months to give up, and six months to get back. Check the wikipedia article to see what was included in the ton of gear.

We had been warned that the following 8.7 mile (14.1km) day was a tough one and we should get moving early – on the trail no later than 6am we were told. Checkout the elevation profile of the trail to see how steep the push to the summit is. I don’t even have a watch so I wasn’t at all surprised to find I was one of the last in camp when I crawled out of my tent

Chilkoot Trail Plaque

I was pleasantly surprised how quickly I arrived at the base of “The Golden Stairs” – the scene of the countless famous photos I had seen in the north. In order to move a ton of gear over the trail, each stampeder had to make many passes, slowly shuffling their gear further and further along. Most hiked the trail 40 to 50 times with between 50 and 150 lbs (25 – 70kgs) each trip and would wind up hiking over a thousand miles (1600km). It was here at the base of the stairs that many stampeders simply gave up and turned around, leaving their ton of gear to decay where it sat. The ground was littered with all manner of artifacts, including remnants of the aerial tramways that were constructed to haul gear to the top.

View from scales

Although I couldn’t see very far in front of me, I was very happy to push hard up the very steep rock scramble – without a doubt the steepest pitch I have ever hiked with a full pack. About 20 minutes had me at the plaque commemorating the trail, 5 more had me across the surprisingly unmarked border into Canada and 5 more saw me sitting in the summit shelter cooking a hot lunch. It’s not every day you get to hike across the border from the US into Canada and we were all grinning at the idea.

The Golden Staircase

We lingered in the cabin, chatting to the friendly ranger and delaying the inevitable return to the now snow covered, windy trail.

Chilkoot Trail Summit

As I descended down into a narrow valley on the Canadian side the trail changed once again. Now completely in the alpine and very snow covered a tricky blend of walking and sliding across the fall line was needed. A couple of times the clouds parted long enough for me to realize that if I was to slide directly down the steep fall line, I would wind up taking a dip in the large, blue and undoubtedly cold Crater Lake. It continued like this for the rest of the day, slowly loosing elevation and being less and less snow covered as I went. The end of the day saw almost everyone camp at “Happy Camp” – a tightly packed, windy spot. It was raining now and quite cold, which left us pondering the name – we all got a laugh when a fellow hiker concluded “This is where happiness goes to die”.

Crater Lake

It was still raining in the morning so I quickly shoved everything away wet, inhaled some hot oats and got on the trail hoping to get away from the weather as I hiked further down the valley. The amount of water on and around the trail was amazing – massive lakes were being fed by countless fast flowing snow-melt streams. Each time a crossing was required I carefully hunted up and downstream, being extra careful to keep my feet warm and dry. The trail wound on and on in this manner past Deep Lake campground, then Lake Lindeman where I stopped for lunch and onto my campsite for the night, Bare Loon Lake 8.5 miles (13.7kms) from Happy Camp. Bare Loon campsite had 15 or so tent pads placed on a hill-side that each had an amazing view of the lake. The sun managed to come out briefly and a little bit of wind helped to dry me and my gear completely – such a nice feeling to be warm and dry and I feel sound asleep as soon as I lay down.

The Chilkoot winds on and on

The Chilkoot Trail ends at Bennett, where the stampeders had to build some kind of boat and float down the mighty Yukon River to Dawson City. Of course, few had ever built a boat and tried to “Huck Finn” it down the Yukon on little more than a couple of logs lashed together. Seeing the disaster before it happened, the Mounties quickly stepped in to make sure the newly constructed craft were river worthy – they had to have a certain number of planks above the water line and they had to be capable of steering in some way. The Mounties actually setup an obstacle course that had to be navigated before would-be boaters could leave Lake Bennett and get onto the Yukon River.

Knowing I had a short day I let myself have a lazy start and soon came to the “cut-off” trail – a small windy path that leads to the railway line. Most people that need to return south to Skagway pay $60 USD for a ride on the White Pass Train. I chose to take the slightly less legally correct option of hiking along the railway line until I met the highway where I would hitchhike back to town. As luck would have it I caught up to Murray and his son Steve on the tracks who were driving to the trailhead to collect their second vehicle. Of the 100,000 stampeders that arrived on the shores of Dyea and Skagway, somewhere around 30% actually made it to Dawson City and started looking for gold. Of those 30,000 prospectors, less than 1% actually found gold. It wasn’t required, but I’m sure it helped to be crazy.

White pass train

While the lack of visibility at the summit detracted a little from the hike, I still had a fantastic time and highly recommend The Chilkoot to anyone with a passion for the outdoors, especially anyone with an interest in gold rush history.
A big thanks to Scott for suggesting the trail a couple of months ago.

-Dan

I’d just arrived back from kayaking and was wandering the main street of Valdez when Thomas and Roland drove up. Neither of us had any idea we were going to be there and it was fantastic to see friends again. We ended up hanging out for three days, laughing at planning new adventures the whole time.

Bridal Viel Falls HDR

We chatted to some locals who were cleaning their Halibut down on the pier and one of them gave us a huge slab of the fish he was cleaning. He was just about to throw it out, so didn’t mind giving it to us. Thomas and I were over the moon as we cut it into enormous chunks and cooked it up with plenty of lemon juice and butter. Too add to that, my kayaking guide Jay left me a 12 pack of my favorite beer in the jeep and a note wishing me safe travels.
As Thomas pointed out, I don’t need a million dollars, just a couple of good friends and good times.

Thomas Dan & Roland in Valdez

We went for a hike up behind Valdez and had an awesome view when the morning clouds burnt off:

The view of Valdez when the morning cloud lifted

I’ve been trying to get photos of the wildflowers for a while now – they are everywhere:

Alaskan wildflowers are everywhere

On our way out of Valdez we went for a hike up Worthington glacier all the way up to the dome visible above my head in this photo:

Dan and Worthington glacier

A few weeks back I adjusted quickly to the very long days and even the endless days. Now that I’m moving south, twilight begins at about midnight and a headlamp is almost needed from 2am until about 3.30am – I’m really struggling to get used to this and I much prefer the endless sunshine

Hiking Worthington glacier

-Dan

Denali Winding Road

Riding the bus did seem like a very good way to see a whole lot of wildlife for absolute minimal effort, but it just wasn’t my scene. I drove 15 miles into the park, where the public road ends and found a nice mountain to hike up. The one strange thing about Denali is they actively encourage you to go anywhere you like. “There’s no path there, but you can just bush whack up”.

Mountain top in Denali

There are many fires blazing across Alaska right now and some of the largest are just north and west of Denali – this means the entire region is covered in a smokey haze that hides all the mountains. I did get a decent view of McKinley a couple of times, but the camera couldn’t see it.

Poser

I drove south, through Anchorage heading for the small fishing community of Seward. The drive down was absolutely amazing with the road hugging the ocean on one side and snow and glacier capped peaks on the other. The haze had followed me though, so photos didn’t work out. I was on a hiking binge so couldn’t pass up an opportunity to hike up Exit Glacier which leads up to an enormous ice field.

Exit Glacier

Hiking To Exit Glacier

The hike was great and I spotted a Grizzly Sow and cub playing in the sun about 50 meters away across a gully – it was really cool to watch them meander along without a care in the world.

Grizzly Sow & Cub

The town of Seward was pretty cool too – it was a genuine fishing port with everyone running around the docks dealing with the ships that had just arrived in the late afternoon. The waterfront reminded me of countless little coastal towns in Australia, the smell of the ocean and fish, the sounds of sea gulls, the fishing boats – except of course the ever present towering snow-capped mountains

Seward Harbor

I found my way to a little waterfall near the convergence of the Russian and Kenai rivers where salmon congregate as they try to make their way upstream to spawn. I was making lots of noise clapping and yelling but somehow I still managed to almost walk into a grizzly sow and her two cubs down by the river. About eight meters separated us – much too close for comfort – as I started to back away slowly. When she realized I was there she was more than happy to walk away, as was I. Lucky.
Hiking the 2.3 miles back in the very dim light I jumped at every shadow and sound in the woods.

Shooting fish in a barrel?

The next morning I parked myself at the falls with a book and comfy chair hoping to catch sight of a bear fishing, this time from a much safer vantage point. While no bears came around that day, I did chat to some locals who had special fishing allowances because they need the fish purely for food. They scooped out the salmon in nets and proceeded to filet them right there on the shore of the river – I’ve never seen fish that color before, it was really cool.

Fresh slamon fillet

As you might have guessed, this was a very popular fishing spot.

Salmon Fishing

Alaska continues to enthrall me.

-Dan

The Stampede Trail is fifty miles of rough, overgrown mining road that was abandoned in 1963. No bridges were ever constructed over the several rivers it crosses so it is primarily used by backcountry travelers on foot, bicycle, snow machine and motorcycle. The now infamous Fairbanks City Transit bus #142 was left behind by the Yutan Construction Company during the road building to serve as a backcountry shelter for hunters, trappers and ranger patrols.

Typical conditions on the Stampede Trail

I met two cool Austrian characters, Thomas and (roll the ‘R’) Roland on the Dalton Highway and it took all of 10 seconds to convince them to join me on a trip to ‘The Bus’. We were able to drive about 12.5 miles down Stampede Road before we had to leave the vehicles behind and continue on foot. The first hour and a half of hiking the next morning saw us travel on a really good quad trail, through some small swaps, through a couple of shin-deep river crossings and spat us out at the edge of the Teklinika River.

Ultimately, the ‘Tek’ was Chris’ downfall when he was unable to cross it and return to civilization, forcing him back to the bus. Although it was not the raging torrent Emile Hirsch faced in the movie, it was obvious we would be swept off our feet and downstream if we did not keep our heads about us.

We ummmed and arrred for quite a while and wandered upstream, where we had been told the river was wider and shallower. Once we got sick of our aimless wandering, Thomas picked a spot and after throwing in rocks and using sticks to measure the depth we all agreed it was our best chance. We tentatively forded one at a time, with our packs un-buckled so we could ditch them if we were to get swept in. It’s a shame you can’t see my face in any of the photos – I was more than a bit scared when it reached mid-thigh in depth and began to really push hard. Slow and steady won through and I was relieved to be on the other side. Roland came powering across like he was on a mission and in a voice that was too much Arnie to be true beamed “Bah, dat was easy”.

Crossing the mighty Teklinika River

Thomas and Roland are fitness machines and once we were back on the trail I was quickly left in their dust, alone with my thoughts. Chris must have felt such a sense of isolation and awe to be all the way out here, alone, not knowing if there was anything or anyone ahead. At times I yelled into the alder and clapped my hands, trying to avoid startling any neighborhood bears. At times I sang aloud and at times I was silently reflecting – I was actually going to the bus, the bus that Chris had spent four months living in, was essentially trapped in and finally died in. Wow.

When bus 142 appeared on the side of the trail, seemingly out of thin air I was quite startled. I’d been hiking on my own for 10 miles but somehow wasn’t ready to be there yet. I paused on the edge of the clearing for a moment, then again in the doorway, trying to take everything in. Even though I’d never been there before, it was very familiar – from the description in the book, the movie and also from the pictures I’ve seen online.

The front of The Magic Bus

I thought The Magic Bus would be a quiet, sad place to spend time – I was quite surprised to find the opposite was the case.

The stove and bed of The Magic Bus

It’s customary for visitors to inscribe their name on the wall of the bus and write a message in the “Guest Book” – a book placed in the bus by Chris’ sister Carine. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of exhilarating messages from people all over the world who had made the trek out to the bus. People wrote about how upon hearing Chris’ story they changed their lives so they could live their dreams, people wrote of hitching thousands of miles to be there, people wrote about how beautiful of a place Chris had found. Graffiti like ‘Solo trek to honor Chris’ and ‘Swept downstream by Tek, it was worth it’ made me grin from ear to ear – Chris has inspired thousands of people and and I was thrilled to be a part of that.

Jon Krakauer's message in the book

My message in the Guest Book captures my feelings:

You have inspired more people than you will ever know, not least of all me.
Your passion, courage and determination gave me the strength to believe I really can make my dreams come true.
And here I am, in Alaska, having been to the Arctic Ocean, on my way to South America.
Thankyou Chris.

Christopher McCandless Plaque

I spent many quiet hours in the bus, reading the walls and the many guest books.
Although I hunted high and low I could not find any writing from Chris himself – it seems they have all faded away over the years.

A quote by Thoreau on The Magic Bus

It was truly and amazing experience and all three of us couldn’t stop grinning and talking of adventures to come the entire hike back.

Roland Dan & Thomas at The Magic Bus

My hair is all wrong and my beard is not nearly long enough, but you get the idea:

Dan at The Magic Bus

-Dan

If you’ve just stumbled onto my site, I encourage you to have a look around and read more about my ongoing adventure from Alaska to Argentina.

Dalton Highway flowers

Alaska Pipeline and Dalton Highway roll on

In another hundred miles I crossed into the arctic circle – there is a big sign and a guy handing out cheesy certificates. Many tourists drive to this point and turn around, which is a shame based on what’s to come…

Arctic Circle

North is the tiny town of Coldfoot, population 13. It’s well worth the visit for two reasons:
1. It has a gas station, the last one for 240 miles (384 km)
2. It has a shiny new visitors centre, stocked with friendly staff to answer all your questions about the arctic region and the wildlife found there – really fascinating.

Into the mountains

The road now starts to change significantly – almost purely gravel, narrower, steeper and a lot more twisty. The gravel is also kind of strange in that they put a chemical in it to keep the dust down, which is still gruesome. This chemical seems to make the surface turn into glue – making steering interesting and sticking permanently to every surface in sight. For once, I didn’t envy the guys on two wheels one little bit.

The Brooks Mountain Range 1

The highway has one last trick up it’s sleeve before allowing passage to the arctic, The Brooks Mountain Range. Now it’s blatantly obvious this road was not built for the public – grades of 12% or more are common. I watched in awe two semis in front of me hauled one oversize trailer up the mountain, then both worked together to get it down the other side in a partially controlled manner. I was told that in winter, some trailers need four semis. Wow. These trucks had two support vehicles in front and one behind – a friendly wave was given to indicate you should get off the road right now.

The Brooks Mountain Range 2

Descending The Brooks Range the landscape changed dramatically – most noticeably, there were no trees. I’ve been above the altitude at which no trees can grow, called the “tree line”, many times before. This was eerily different – the lack of trees had nothing to to with elevation, trees can not grow here because it is too far north. Cooooool.

The Brooks Mountain Range (looking back)

The mountains quickly turned into green rolling hills, then faded altogether leaving behind the desolate arctic tundra. Although it was 9pm, the sun was still very high in the sky and beating down hot enough to get sunburnt. About 10 miles before the oil outpost of Deadhorse, a cold wind ripped in and the temperature dropped significantly – not too many degrees above freezing.

I camped a mile or two out of town, which was a really exciting experience. Cocooned in my sleeping bag and wearing all my thermals I was still cold. With the sun high overhead and the wind howling around the tent I really did feel like an explorer in a very barren, inhospitable land. Lying down in my tent to go to sleep and only then realizing I was still wearing my sunglasses was also pretty strange. I was so excited it took me a long time to fall asleep.

Arctic Camping (taken at 11pm)

Would you believe me if I said camping by the arctic ocean is kind of cold?

I wound up spending an entire day in Deadhorse huddled behind my Jeep in the sun reading and writing and I’m really glad I did. By the end of the day I was able to get some understanding of how harsh this place really is, even in the height of summer. The fox below startled me twice by coming within 10 feet of me while I was reading.

Sneaky Fox

The drilling companies own all the roads to the actual ocean, so you have to pay $40 for a tourist bus. I debated it for some time and then decided that I’d come all this way, so I should dot it. It’s a shame I couldn’t get a photo of the Jeep with her rear wheels in the water, but it was never going to happen with security being really tight.
In case you’re wondering, the water was really cold

Standing in The Arctic Ocean

All I have to do now is drive south.

-Dan

Alaska Highway

I know I use the word a lot, but driving around Alaska really does seem to be epic. The rivers are epic, the wildlife is epic, and the mountains are especially epic. The Canadian Rockies were my backyard for two years and I explored them pretty well – but Alaska seems somehow different.
Bigger. Stronger. More.

Mountains on the side of the highway

I hope I can give you a sense of that over the coming weeks.

The mix of summer colors & sunshine with the obviously fresh snow on these mountains really screams out that something is going on here. Within the first one hundred miles I’d seen a couple of moose and a calf. One of them was standing in a picturesque knee deep river, just until I got my camera all lined up, when it wondered off into the bushes.
Even big moose are skilled at disappearing I’ve discovered.

I’ve been working on my ‘Guerrilla Camping’ skills as I go along. This is what I call the fine art of free camping. It takes a lot of skill and practice to find a nice spot to camp for free – not too close to the road, a really nice view, minimal mosquitos and most importantly somewhere that nobody will yell at you. I like to think I’m going to get so good at this that one day other people will show up and upon seeing the superlative campsite I have chosen, will ask where they have to pay.
I can dream

Guerrilla Camping

On the downside, camping like this means I don’t meet other travelers or even locals. In fact, I often don’t see anyone else at all. I’ve been doing it about 2 nights in 3, and I’m yet to find the balance of free vs. meeting other people to share the bears with.

I met George at Liard Hot Springs and after we’d chatted around for an hour or two he invited me to checkout his gold mining operation in Central, Alaska. The drive out was fantastic, over a mountain pass and down into a little town that time had forgotten. My instructions were to ask for directions to George’s mine at the one and only store in town. I wasn’t sure how well this was going to work, but sure enough, they immediately knew who I was talking about and gave me perfect directions. I found George happily working on one of his eight or nine strong fleet of barely running CAT heavy machinery. This early in the season all efforts were on getting everything running again, no gold was actually being mined yet. We chatted around for the entire day, while George showed me around, introduced me to everyone and working on the starting mechanism of one of the big CATs.
I had a great time out at the mine, and I really hope to see George again sometime down the road.

Rusty Old CAT

-Dan

Massive boardwalks have been built to take you right out to the main soaking area, “Alpha Pool”, the pool we have all seen photos of. It was a great pool, really big, deep and clear. At one end the hot water flowed in too hot too touch, and right next to it was a cold waterfall. Further down the pool the water had all mixed making for a great soak. The water continued to flow, forming a river that could be explored – the further you went the colder and muddier it got, with overhanging vines and submerged logs. The Alpha Pool was always busy, but it’s obvious why – it really was fantastic.
I didn’t get a very good photo of this one because I was too busy soaking.

Alpha Pool

Another 5 minutes down the boardwalk was “Beta Pool”, an entirely different thing. Here, hot water was bubbling up from the bottom of a 3 meter deep, 5 meter across hole in the mud. The water was not very clear thus the pool was almost always empty. It was also slightly cooler, which meant you could soak for a lot longer without overheating. This pool was good in it’s own way, but I do prefer a nice gravel bottom.

Liard Hot Springs Beta Pool

I camped a night at Liard and soaked in the springs 5 times
I highly recommend it to anyone passing through.

-Dan

Original Mile 0 marker

I had planned and dreamed and planned for so long, leaving Calgary turned out to be quite anticlimactic. I had originally thought I would be so overcome with emotions I’d have to pull over and take some deep breaths, you know, like in the movies when the hero rides out of town. But there was none of that. It really felt like a regular old road trip, gone for the weekend type of thing.
I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that this is now my life – this is what I do. A few months should take care of that

Sitting by the Mile 0 marker I saw a motorbike roll by with Columbian license plates which spurred a whole train of thought for me. At first I was excited – “Man”, I thought “This guy is doing it!”. Then I was a little disappointed that I’m not the first to try this – not blazing a new path all frontier like. Of course I knew that all along, but this was the first in-my-face example. And then a little later, I started to get really, really excited, thinking “This really can be done”. “All those kilometers and border crossings and drug dealing, gun wielding exclusive membership golf clubs really can be navigated.” Hell yeah.

More than anything else though, it really is clear to me the best time to turn off the TV, get off the couch and live your dreams is now. Not next summer, not when the car is paid off and definitely, 100% not when this season of Lost is finished. NOW.

It’s not nearly as hard as you think it is, and it’s scientifically proven to be about 1000 times more enjoyable.

I’ve been playing around with HDR photography lately, so I’ll leave you with a shot I just took of the great highway winding north. The mountains just came into view this afternoon and it was a really familiar feeling to see them again, little patches of white visible even at this distance.

Loving that view

It’s 9pm and I’m happily working on my tan, the sun still about 30 degrees above the horizon. I think it will go down for an hour or two tonight, but after another couple of days driving north I’ll have my endless summer!

-Dan

There is no doubt in my mind that your fellow planters have the ability to make or break the experience. Everyone knows it’s insanely hard work. Everyone knows the bugs are unbearable. Everyone knows it’s stupidly hot. If you ever actually talked about it, any sane person would curl up in the dirt and cry. And that’s the whole thing – every single person was happy to be there. Everyone smiled, everyone joked and everyone was positive. Even at the end of a stupidly hard day, people found the energy to juggle, or play volleyball, or throw a frisbee. Maybe we were all insane, maybe we all had heat stroke, or maybe it was a camp full of positive, can-do people who just couldn’t be beat down.

Only 2,700 to go today...

At times it was taken to a level beyond anything I’ve seen before. Tim had more blisters than feet – he would hobble around camp in obvious pain at night, but each morning, he was the first one out to the block loading up with trees, a smile on his face. Eric kept planting with “a sore back” – it turned out that most of his lower back was shades of purple and black. When I asked how much it hurt he shrugged and said “it’s sore”. Aja took a tumble and cut her hand on stick, when I asked how it was she showed me inside-hand stuff poking to the outside – her only concern was how many days she would be unable to plant while injured.
(Tim later had some days off and went to a doctor, Aja got two stitches and as far as I know, Eric kept planting).

The particular company that I was with has been doing this for a really long time, and it showed. The had figured out the right balance needed to make sure everyone could earn lots of money, but also keep themselves healthy and happy. All meals were carefully prepared with maximum nutrition and were very much all you can eat. Each night when we arrived back from planting appetizers were immediately available – to fill the void before dinner came and hour later. The camp had hot showers and worked a 4 day on, 1 day off schedule.

And what a day off it was. “Party night” was basically an excuse to see how much alcohol we could each consume – and given what we’d been doing for the previous 4 days, that was not surprisingly very little. A much loved game, “boozeby” was played with great enthusiasm and intensity. It involved a frisbee, beer and beer bottles balanced on poles. Mike and I were the obvious favorites but were knocked out by the head of camp and his ring-in partner after some great throwing on their behalf.
The night was a great chance for everyone to let their hair down and then do precisely nothing the next day.

On my last day I got to take a ride to work in a Hagland – think of a small tank and you’re pretty much there. To get around the horrible roads a vehicle with tracks is essential and these things are so tough that Canada has 15 or so on active duty in Afghanistan.

Where's the guys with guns?

I thought I would be able to help Mike earn tons of money while I was there, but unfortunately there is so much practice and skill involved in actual planting and I was waaaay to slow to be any use. Mike was aiming to plant 2000 – 2,700 trees in a day and I would have been luckt to add a couple of hundred to that. In the end, I carred the backpack of trees and handed them to Mike and he needed them. This worked out really well because it meant we were right next to each other all day and had tons of time to chat about everything and nothing.

Tree planting – could I do it? I think so. Would I be very good at it? I really don’t know. It’s a lot harder than I ever thought and the mental struggle of doing the same thing every day would wear me down for sure. I had a great time and I wish everyone in camp the best of luck for the season.
Thanks for having me guys,

-Dan

I had to meet up with some guys from the planting company because getting out to iso (isolation) camp was not a straight forward thing to do. After 150km of highway and another 30km of unsealed logging roads we had to abandon the truck and move everything into a mule. When the logging companies are done in the winter they remove all of their bridges to make it harder for joe hunter to travel around in the middle of nowhere. The first thing the planters had done was re-build two bridges, but they were small and the road from here turned to glue when it rained, so regular trucks could go no further. Past here we would only use a mule, ATV or Hagland (more on those later) for transportation.

It was 11pm when I arrived in main camp and the sun was still very much up. Mike had been waiting up for me and after chatting for 10 minutes while I put up my tent he was pretty excited to goto sleep. Breakfast was at 6am he said cheerily – “Don’t worry, I won’t let you sleep in”.

Dan and Mike in the field

Breakfast and a whole bunch of introductions were over all too soon and Mike and I were talking out to our “piece” of land to plant on for the day. A tree planter wears a pack not unlike a hiking backpack with two huge containers on each side for trees. 270 trees per load weighing around 35 lbs. They use a very small, very short shovel to make a hole just big enough for the tree, stomp it in and move onto the next tree. But that’s kind of the obvious easy part – the next bit is spacing.

The trees need to be planted to a certain density based on the current contract – we were aiming for 1600 trees per hectare which meant the average distance between trees needed to be 2.7 meters. Once you’ve laid down one nice straight row it seems like you should be able to turn around, and plant another row 2.7 meters from your last. That would work really well except that the trees you just planted do their very best to hide; they hide behind stumps, under sticks and logs and best of all they are the exact same shade of green as the five hundred and fifty six million pieces of old tree lying around. For the life of me I couldn’t see a freshly planted tree even if I was standing directly on top of it.

How many trees can you spot?

To measure if you were plating at the correct density you could lay down a “plot” – stick your shovel in the ground a tie a piece of string to it. Walk around in a full circle and count the trees that lie within a 3.99 meter radius. The contract and some maths meant we needed to find eight freshly planted trees within that circle. The contact allowed some leeway, 7, 8 or 9 was OK. We were checked on our work and would have to re-do anything that was not up to scratch.

Another thing that I was completely unprepared for was the state of the ground we were planting in. Sometimes it was “cream” – there were no logs, sticks, twigs, sawdust mounds or anything else to get in the way. One good hit with the shovel and you had nice black soil to shove the tree into. More often than not the ground was covered with 5 inches of debris from the previous generations of trees, so in order to get down to the soil you need to use your feet to scratch away the junk, called “screefing”. Sometimes you would be standing on 3 or 4 layers of logs putting you at least a foot or two off the dirt. Again, you have to find a way to clear whatever was in the way to get down to the soil. Of course
there is the constant fun of swamps to deal with – five steps in a row are high and dry then the next one you are mid-shin in mucky water, affectionately called “booting”.

While thinking about everything above, remember that tree planters are paid by the tree, not the hour. So even after you’ve climbed over logs, walked through swaps and finished your 270 tree run, you really get no relaxation from sitting down in the shade for 2 minutes to cram as much food in your face as you possibly can. Your mind immediately wanders to the fact that you are currently making $0/hr and that is bringing down your average and to make today profitable you’ll have to work even harder.

If you can do everything mentioned above in around 10 seconds per tree and you don’t ever stop for more than a few minutes and you work from 8am to 6pm you can hope to make something like $300 in a day. Before tax and camp costs, that is.

Do not be fooled – tree planting is extremely hard work. If you are up for it, you can make good money.

I’ll talk more next time about the people and community spirt at camp.

-Dan

Getting ready to plant....

Next week, I’m setting out to drive my Jeep 50,000kms on The Pan American Highway from The Arctic Ocean in Northern Alaska to Tierra Del Fuego, the southernmost point of South America.

I’m going to record my whole trip here with stories and photos, but more than that, I want you guys to join in too. Remember those “choose your own adventure” books where you got to make up your own story? I’m going to make my trip the same for you. Whenever I get to a fork in the road, or I can’t decide if I should detour to see some ruins, or stick around another week, I’m going to ask you guys. The choices will be put to a vote – the choice with the most votes wins and I’ll do it.

Maybe you’ve always wanted to hike to Macha Pichu or to drive Bolivia’s “Road of Death”. Here’s your chance. If it gets voted up I’ll do it. You’ll be able to read all about it here with trip reports, adventure stories and photos.

I think the whole trip will take twelve months, but that’s just a guess – let’s say plus or minus six months to that.
Updates will come shortly on my Jeep, gear, medical requirements and more. In the mean time, checkout my completely made-up route north/south and the Jeep looking pretty excited

-Dan

Dan and Jeep ready to go.

Completely made up.

Fast forward to last Monday, Duke calls me up, says he’s on a road trip and will be in Banff tonight. Tonight. In Banff. An hour away. I raced out there as soon as I could, grinning the whole way.

Sitting on a bench waiting for him I was a little worried I wouldn’t recognize him, or we wouldn’t be friends anymore or… bah – what crap. The second I saw him I knew it was on again. It was pretty damn obvious he’d been on a roadie for a month and man was I jealous – he’d just driven his $800 truck from Jackson Hole, Wyoming over to Portland, then up through Washington to Whistler. From there he drove East through central BC, Revelstoke and now Banff. Living out of his truck the whole time with his dog Simba added a lot of character to the trip.

We both had so much to say and were smiling from ear to ear the entire night of bar hopping around Banff. Not wanting to pay for a place to crash we found ourselves a quiet spot up behind Banff where I crashed in a tent and Duke and Simba in his truck.
Man that was a fun night.

Over the next five days we didn’t stop. A round of disc at the Canmore course was awesome, followed by hiking up Heart Mountain. It was just a little windy (read insanely) and snowing pretty hard at the top but we loved it all the same. We bypassed the fence at Park 96, Calgary’s private disc golf course for a sweet round with a local character who just a month earlier had quite accidentally dropped a cliff at Lake Louise to the tune of a severely broken arm and leg. He was super proud to tell us he was now a celebrity around those parts, as he had skied down by himself to ski patrol. It was great to see him out so soon.

Every night of the week found us at a different bar, chatting it up with a different group of random people. Papa Roach are my favourite band and they were in town on Thursday night, which Duke knew we had to get to. A few beers down we arrived just in time to watch everyone stream out – not that it mattered, there were plenty of bars on 17th that had cold beer for us. Every day at work was a gong show, which led to a couple of choice quotes. A friend at work was commenting; “Dan’s been looking a little frazzled these last couple of days” and by Duke seeing me on Thursday afternoon: “You’re going home for a nap before we go out again”.  Haha.

It was an awesome week of laughing and smiling – which only made us want to catch up sooner rather than later.

Duke’s summary was pretty fitting: “Danno, there’s no way we could live together. Within a week one of us would have alcohol poising and the other would be in jail”. Sounds like fun to me.

-Dan

Duke Dan and Simba

Soaking at Fairmont

We quickly found ourselves at Fairmont Hot Springs for a soak – but of course not in the paying area. A very short walk up the hill from the “resort” has you at the source of the springs which has a few soak-worthy pools. We soaked for a good hour, enjoying the view and chatting to people passing through.

We had decided to camp at Buhl Creek Hot Springs that night, so set out as it was getting dark. Navigating the logging roads was easy seeings I had been there before. When we arrived, there was nobody around but the campfire on the bluff was still lit. A little strange, but we didn’t let it go to waste and camped right next to it. We also used the Jeep to transport some firewood.

Firewood Transport

It turns out the pools at Buhl Creek are very close to body temperature, so at this time of year they were not warm enough for a night time soak. We racked our brains for a way to heat it up and tried pretty much everything we could think of. In the end, we heated up about 10 rocks in the fire until they were red hot then cicked them down the hill into a nice pool. Success! the perfect temperature for an hour soak late at night.

In the morning Mike slept in while Dan had another good hour soak. We headed out to Cranbrook where we grabbed lunch and played 18 holes at the local disc golf course. A very rugged course, much like Canmore. In the end Mike won by one stroke – great game.

Campsite At Buhl Creek

We wanted to spend some time wandering around Kimberley to assess the likelihood that Mike would live/work there for the winter. We started out with the mandatory beer in the pub before wandering the streets talking to everyone along the way. It’s a great little town with really friendly, down-to-earth people. It felt very warm and community minded from the minute we got there. As night fell we needed somewhere to camp – I suggested somewhere along the road to Superlative, so we headed out.

Snow on the tent

We’d been going about 20 minutes I suppose when we seriously thought about camping in the Superlative car park for the night and day-hiking in the next day. Mike had been with me when we first read about Superlative and we had talked together about it ever since. It had to be done. 20 minutes later we drove back into town, got gas and supplies, then drove back out to Superlative. The road again was very good and started getting quite snowy about 2/3 of the way up. By then end it was full snow, not a glimpse of a road. This actually made the going a little easier because the snow fills in the pot holes.

Hiking Dewar Creek

We camped that night at the parking lot which looked a lot different than last time I was there. Neither of us had ever camped in/on the snow before and we were both as happy as, well, two guys camping in the snow. It snowed a couple of centimeters overnight and we were pretty stoked to see snow on the tent!

Bugle Basin Campground

We knew we had a long way to go the next day, so we got up and moving down the trail. I was a little worried it would be so snowed over we wouldn’t find our way – but it turned out to be fine. Based on the trail and my memory, we didn’t make a single wrong turn. At the start there was around 10cm of snow, towards the end it was more like 25cm. It snowed hard all day. The fact that winter was coming really hit us hard – we were working in shin deep perfect powder, why didn’t we bring our boards!

Dewar Creek Hot Spring

The difference in the campsite and Hot Springs was amazing, black and white, night and day. Just as beautiful, just totally different. We soaked for a good hour in the tub while it snowed very hard around us. This was probably the most relaxing soak of my life – by the side of a river in the middle of nowhere with no body else around in heavy snowfall. Unreal.

Boots after hiking

After what felt like forever we geared up and made the hike back to the Jeep. Driving down was fine, even with the ~30cm of snow on the road. There was one close call with an on-coming truck towing a horse trailer. It really didn’t look like he was going to stop and we must have stopped about a foot apart. Live and learn or something like that I think is appropriate.

Another huge, huge weekend full of Hot Springs, Disc Golf, Fun & Smiles.

-Dan

Hiking the trail

The Road Down

.

The Campsite

Mike just got back from hiking the Appellation Trail, so we had to get out camping. With no programming at all we drove out Spray Lakes Road behind Canmore until we found a great spot on the side of a little lake. We were really worried that it would get cold overnight but we figure it hardly got below zero.

In the morning we met a few people at the disc golf course and plauyed a couple of rounds. Great fun.

Bill also loaned me his OBD II connector so I could check the mileage in the Jeep. We learnt a ton using that thing. Basically it sums up like this:

• If you go uphill, gas mileage is terrible
• If you accelerate, gas mileage is terrible
• The difference between maintaining 90km/h or 110km/h is negligible.
• The Jeep averages 20mpg

Checkout the beard that Mike is sporting!

-Dan

Campground up Spray Lakes Rd.

Mike Hucking

Superlative:
Adjective
1.  Of the highest order, quality, or degree; surpassing or superior to all others.
Noun
1.  Something of the highest possible excellence.

I’d talked so much about this spring that it was easy to convince a bunch of people to come. We ended up with Kevin, Amy, Ally, Ty, Vaughan, Brendan and myself. So the plan was set.

We left the city around 5.30pm, and after a not-so-quick dinner stop in Canmore, we made it to Kimberley around midnight. There was some talk of staying there the night, but after meeting up with Ally and Ty, we pushed on the remaining 65kms to the end of the logging roads. The road was excellent until about the last 5kms when it just got worse and worse, until the last 500meters was more a rock scramble than a road. We made the parking lot at 2am, set up our tents and fell into bed.

A not so early 9am start was plenty enough, we were all jumping out of our skin with excitement. We ate, packed up and were on the trail around 10.30. My book said it was about 9kms in, through very over-grown brush. I had seen photos of some very deep river crossings, so I really had no idea what to expect. The trail turned out to be great, quite muddy and churned up from horses in places – but still very manageable. After a few rest stops we arrived at the spring around midday on the most beautiful blue sky day imaginable. The campsite was much more scenic that I could have imagined, and we spent a ton of time sunning ourselves in the late afternoon.

The layout was amazing, with the campsite “Bugle Basin” about 5 mins past the spring. To get to the spring, we dropped quite a lot of elevation straight down to the river. Hot water bubbles out of cracks under the cliffs for a couple of hundred meters along the river bank. The water was up to 85degC – much much too hot to keep your hand in. The soaking challenge was actually getting the hot mixed with some cold at just the right ratio. There were really only 3 tubs that were usable for soaking. A sign indicated that rangers had demolished other tubs to lesson the environmental impact to the area. Fair enough.

We soaked in the main tub for an hour or so, then went exploring. Building our own river-side tubs was never going to be a success, so we just kept exploring, finding all the hot water we could. Vaughan and I finally found a tub at the base of the cliffs that was very small and very difficult to get the right temperature. We decided pre-mixing of the water was the key. A late night soak was a must, and the entire area was engulfed in steam – the moon rise topped it all off. The night was cold, but everyone survived OK.

Vaughan and I were up early for a soak to be greeted by a really thick frost. A mad dash to the spring was well worth it. After breakfast we all geared up for the return hike which was a little quicker and easier. Eating smokies and throwing the Frisbee on the green grass in the sun was a highlight for sure. We rolled back into the city around 11pm making for a huge weekend.

Was it superlative I hear you ask? The soaking experience – maybe not. But the entire package; the location, the forest, the campsite, the sheer size of the spring, etc, etc.

Yep. The Superlative of springs.

The road up was much worse than it was in winter. Potholes were a-plenty and about 20 cm deep. I started to dobut the likelihood of a sedan making it up there. I spent the first afternoon & evening at Ram, soaking my heart out. A few people came and went but I was the only person staying up there.

In the morning, it was time to hunt down Mutton Creek Hotspring. This spring is mentioned in the Geothermal Resources of BC report and so is also mentioned in Glenn Woodswoth’s book “Hotsprings Of Western Canada”. I found nothing on the ‘net so went out with not much to go on.

So, looking at the Geothermal Resources of BC report, the co-ordinates given are 50 00.000N 155 40.000 W. Now, immediately, there is a problem here. 155 W is not even in BC.. maybe a typo? maybe something else.
Estimating from where the dot is placed on the map, I get 50 00.000N 115 41.000 W (notice 115, not 155)
These co-ordinates are about 1.6km north of the Ram Creek road, and about 1.2 km SE of Larsen Lake.
Interesting, this is not even close to the “Mutton Creek” that is passed Lussier Hot Spring.

So I headed out looking for these co-ordinates. Not far up the Ram Creek road, there is a pull-out on the left, that goes down to a locked gate, with “Private” marked on it. I didn’t go further, but the old old road seems to wind it’s way down into the lush green valley, directly towards Larsen Lake. Farm land is down there. There is a name on the gate, so it’s a possibility to call the owner to ask about any knowledge of a spring, or even if they’d mind us wandering around on their property. I’m starting to doubt the spring is there, but who knows.

Onto day two, and I started hiking up the Mutton Creek that is about 1km east of Lussier. There is an excellent logging road following the creek, although it’s gated. I have also seen cars parked in front of this gate in the past. I didn’t get far up at all (maybe 1km) when I ran into a medium black bear. He ran off, but I thought about it for a while and turned back. I decided not to push my luck.
On reporting this to the ranger near-by we got into a chat about the spring, and she was really keen to hear what I knew. She’d definitely heard of a rumor of a spring on Mutton Creek, and knew plenty of people that had looked for it. Supposedly the “old timers” of the area knew of the rumor. Her brother-in-law (or something) had also spent a good amount of time looking for it.
Nobody has ever found it, as far as she knew.
At that time, we both suggested that maybe it’s on Mutton creek, south of the road. It hadn’t even occurred to me to look there, so maybe others have overlooked it too. Mutton creek continues for about 800m south of the road before flowing into Lussier River. Hmmm.

After all this effort I had a nice long soak in Lussier River Hot Spring – always a favourite even though it can sometimes be too busy.

I met a really cool German backpacker, Marcel, who I gave a ride all the way back to Canmore. We talked endlessly about travelling, meeting people and generally having fun. An awesome sunny day driving around with no roof.

I picked up Brendan from Emerald Lake and we headed down to Buhl Creek. I’d never been to this spring before, so I was pretty excited.

As always, the directions in the book were 100% spot on, and we found the place all to ourselves. The camp ground, a beautiful green clearing, is about 150meters from the spring, which is on the side of a creek. A storm rolled in late in the afternoon. It gave spectacular skies and very little rain. NICE.

We soaked in the evening, cooked on the open fire then soaked some more. Early in the morning I was soaking once again.

We didn’t see another person for our whole stay. A+ soaking.

We didn’t have much planned except for Mist Mountain Warm Springs on the Saturday. I’d been there last year, but I hiked in the loooong way. Going the normal way was still a tough slog.

About an hour of pretty solid uphil through trees before we broke treeline and had a beautiful view of Mist Mountain and the area. Looking across the valley we could actually see the spring from here (brown smudge just at green-line), but it was still a good 45minute traverse away.

The spring  and the hike were just as beautiful as I remembered.

A great soak on a great sunny day.

The plan was to hit as many hotsprings as possible – some easy to find. Some not so easy.

I started with Upper Halfway river. The book basically said “good luck”, leaving me with not much to go on. I did have some posts from the ‘net, so armed with those, I drove for about 20km up a logging road, on about a 35degree day. I found some flagging tape on the side of the raod, and thought I was there. A short hike down to the river and I found no bridge. I was clearly in the wrong place.

Not easilly deterred, I decided to wade across the river. That was never going to happen, so I back-tracked and go out of theere. The GPS I borrowed off Ryan showed I was only a few hundred meters away from the sping. Damn close.

I camped the night at Halfway River Hotsings – much easier to find and an A+ soak.

In the morning I was super-keen to actually get to Upper Halfway, so I teamed up with some others who had heard of it. We again drove out the logging road, but this time we found the right pull-out and were clearly in the right place. Not far from the road was a bridge the size of which meant it was never going to be washed away. We hiked for around 30mins, most of which through very overgrown brush and straight up-hill. Success. We found the srping and had a great soak.

After heading down to Nakusp, I had a flat on trusty Jeepadoor. That, and the general fatigue led me to camp near town in a campground.

I was up early, on the hunt for Octopus Creek hotspring. I drove down to Fauquier, then continued south on logging roads to the Octopus Creek Recreation site. I drove Jeepadoor as far up the old logging road as I could, then hiked from there. I had to thrash down to the creek (which was very very steep), and walked up the creek for another about 1km. I followd lots of orange flagging tape.

When I got to the river, the water was very high and I had to wade across about 12 times on my way upstream. Luckily it was pretty warm, and I got used to the cold pretty quickly.

Each and every time I was scared.

The canyon was very tight without any other options. At one point I found a fire pit, and further up a big length of black plastic pipe, like you find at all the hot springs in the area. The farther I went, the less and less flag tape I saw, until there was none. I was going very slowly with all the rock hopping and crossings and I was exhausted from all the crossings, so I turned back. Ryan’s GPS said I was still about 1200m short of the springs, but I’m really keen to try again sometime.

I drove on, and made it all the way to Crawford Bay, ready for another hunt in the morning.

Talking to the locals in the morning, I felt the standard “We don’t  want you to find our hot spring” attitude. I pressed on anyway. After hiking around aimlessly for a while, I ended up meeting a local guy “Russ”, who had all the answers. It turns out his friend has been doing aerial surveys for a local resort, looking for hot springs (Dan’s dream job, BTW). Finding Crawford Bay warm springs was a snap after that. Not hot hot, but a really refreshing soak, once again all to myself.

I checked out Fording Mountain Hot spring on the way through Fernie, which the local have dubbed Sulfer Springs. Now I know why.

A fantastic roadie, with some success and some lessons for next time.

I met everyone at the airport and caught a bus out to Camp Wayne.

Mexican Lunch

I’m not going to list everything that happend for the summer, but some of the highlights get a mention and are in pics. We tried hard to make the most of all our days off. Mexican lunch one day was great for some sanity. White water tubing was another big one. Another time we floated down a much more sedate river on a really sunny day. Being able to buy a fully automatic rifle over the counter was a novelty. We spent a day cliff jumping in Ithica and I won best costume at Haloween for my Hulk get-up.

Working on the waterfront was a great way to spend the summer – I worked on my tan and went swimming whenever possible.

-Dan

Best Costume Winner

White Water Tubing Day

Fully automatic

Cliff Jumping in Ithica