That's a Wrap on the South American Leg

Galapagos Giant Tortoise

While sitting on a plane out of Quito, I considered writing about our time aboard a ship through the Galapagos Islands.

It was wondrous and jaw dropping. There were giant tortoises, magnificent birds and a few penguins.

I uttered, “Don’t step on that sea lion,” so many times that I lost count. And swimming with the playful critters continuously filled my mask with water because I simply could not help but laugh each time they buzzed by me.

The eight days left me nearly speechless, at least enough to admit that I simply cannot capture it in words. Instead I’ll sprinkle a few photos throughout this post.

Now we are heading back to Denver, and I’m thinking about a question that Fran asked me last night: What was your favorite part?

My favorite part of a month that started with a five-day trek to Machu Picchu, continued with a deliberately slow two-week trip from the southern tip of Ecuador through the delightful town of Baños, detoured to the bright blue and green Quilotoa Lake, stretched up to Quito, and finally ended in (with apologies to Mr. Disney) the most magical place on earth in the Galapagos?

If you’ve read my writing in the past, you probably have realized that I love the random quirky things in life.

Blue-footed boobies

I loved the fact that I woke up every morning to a glass of juice and almost never had a clue what type of fruit was in it. We drank everything from fresh pineapple to tree tomato to five or six fruits that I couldn’t pick out of a lineup and of which I still don’t know the English names, if there are any.

I loved the random stuff people were selling on the street. There was the ice cream that didn’t melt (it was made of egg whites, and I was smart enough to realize that trying it after it sat in the sun all afternoon was probably not a wise move). There was the wood board covered with remote controls that a woman was peddling while walking down a street in Cuenca. And there was the man standing in the middle of a town square offering his Burmese mountain dog to any tourist wishing to include said dog in his photos of the surrounding churches (for a fee, of course).

I loved that buses in Ecuador play terrible movies that almost certainly never saw the inside of an American theater before ending up on DVDs that are sold for a dollar throughout this South American country.

I loved that almost all hotels and hostels advertised free breakfast, followed by either HOT SHOWERS or FLUSH TOILET PAPER DOWN THE TOILET, almost inevitably in all caps and almost never offered together at the same hotel.

Magnificent Frigatebird

I sort of loved the fact that bed sheets in Ecuador are five feet long. Every night at bedtime felt like the old practical joke of short-sheeting someone’s bed. And it was always mine. Seriously, my feet and shoulders could not possibly be covered at the same time unless perhaps I slept diagonally or in a tightly-compacted fetal position.

I even loved that bathroom doors were usually about 5-foot-7. I nearly knocked myself unconscious during the Salkantay Trek, when I rushed into a bathroom and nearly split the top of the doorframe in two. Somehow I caught myself before falling to the floor (the thought of lying on that or most other bathroom floor kind of terrifies me) and continued in to take care of business. When I returned, the one girl who witnessed it looked me in the eyes, seemingly checking my pupils, and asked how I possibly survived that smack.

However, above all else, I loved the people we met along the way. There were just so many people who entertained us with their stories, amazed us with their generosity, and nearly always busted us into laughter.

I could not possibly describe everyone who made this leg of our journey so memorable, but here is a short list of a few of them (in chronological order).

-- Ruben: Our trek leader for the Salkantay Trail. A former accountant, Ruben quit his desk job and started leading tours to Machu Picchu. I think I can speak for our entire group (and likely every other group he has led) when I say that we are extremely grateful that he changed careers. He told our group of nine that we were a familia, and by the end of five days we were convinced of it. He kept us together on the trail with his, “Baby break, buddies?” And he kept us trucking along with, “OK, buddies, everybody good good?” I’ve had some outstanding group leaders in my life, but Ruben may have been the best. And I will forever recommend Wayki Trek to anyone who is even considering a hike to Machu Picchu. I cannot imagine any company could possibly do it better.

Land Iguana

-- Jerome and Stephanie: A couple who delayed their honeymoon until Jerome finished his master’s degree. Stephanie had a quick wit that consistently made me laugh, and the quiet Jerome was quickly nicknamed “The Puma,” because he silently and swiftly climbed up and down every hillside on the Salkantay (up to 15,000+ feet and down to just under 4,000 feet) without seeming to break a sweat. I’m pretty sure these two will return home and somehow take over Philadelphia. Just give them a little time.

-- Erin: The actress on our trek. It’s no wonder she chose her profession because she can easily entertain any room (or any trail). But the most refreshing part is that Erin refuses to take herself too seriously. When she first told us she was an actress, she quickly added that we might recognize her as a dead prostitute on one of those forensic detective shows. And she did the voiceover of animated body parts on a few commercials, a fact that will hopefully make the trivia section of her IMDB.com profile once she really hits the big time.

-- Tony:  A guy who, like us, left his job to travel. He thinks he will be on the road for about a year, most of which will be in South America. But he might hit Southeast Asia. He’s not sure. He went to Colombia and decided he loved it, so he stuck around for a few months. We met him in Baños, then strangely ran into him in the middle of the Galapagos Islands a few weeks later. In my opinion, he’s doing this right. He is letting the trip and his experiences dictate where he goes and how long he stays. I look forward to following the rest of his journey online.

Galapagos Penguins

-- Ruth and Will: Two people cycling from Rio to Buenos Aires to Los Angeles and over to New York. It’s a two-year ride. They are both former travel guide writers from the UK, a job that makes me infinitely envious. Their focus now is on their ride and enjoying the journey. You can follow along at http://www.contoursofacountry.com/.

-- Rene: The owner of MTS Adventures, a company that guides tours in Baños for rafting, canyoning and any number of extreme activities. Rene has long black hair that cascades from his helmet during canyoning trips, which he leads three times per day, seven days a week. He readily admits that he speaks Spanglish, although his English is remarkably good. Except when it came to the German girl whose English was in a British accent. Rene did not understand a word she said. Apparently, he only understands American. That’s probably due to his obvious love of American music, specifically Guns ‘n Roses. He’s got a Slash figurine above his desk, and he named his son Axl.

-- Robin: The woman from Virginia who was moving to Ecuador. Robin wanted to see the world, so she searched the internet for foreign places that were good for Americans. She settled on Ecuador, and we met her on her first trip to figure out where she wanted to move. It’s amazing to see someone make such a bold and life-changing decision, and it appears to be right for her.

-- Church Group from Germantown, Ohio: There were 15 passengers on our cruise in the Galapagos, and 11 of them were part of a church group from a small town in Ohio. They had finished a mission trip elsewhere in Ecuador and were finishing their trip with a few days at sea. Honestly, I was a little apprehensive at first. When you get a single group taking up the bulk of a tour like this one, the others can feel like outsiders and have little control over how things go. This group, though, welcomed us from the beginning. By the end of the first day, we were laughing over meals and sharing the wonders of the islands with each of them. They did not force their faith on us, but they welcomed our thoughts and opinions. We were on the boat for eight days, but the church group left after four. We were truly sorry to see them go.

Sea lions were literally all over the Galapagos

-- Simon: The safari guide from South Africa, who was one of the great people that replaced the church group for the second half of our cruise. One of the biggest joys of traveling is meeting people and talking to them about where they’ve been. It’s also one of the costly parts of traveling, because it often gives you more places to add to your list of future places to visit. Simon was a passenger in the Galapagos, just like us. But his stories about his regular job of leading safaris all over South Africa (and neighboring countries) had almost all of us ready to plan our flights to Johannesburg. It was easy to tell that Simon was a brilliant tour guide. And there was just something about the fact that he hadn’t worn shoes since a wedding at least a year ago. I look forward to Barefoot Simon taking us through Kruger National Park.

There were so many others, too. And all of them make me smile. I hope I showed enough gratitude for their kindness and their stories when I was with them all.

As we finish the South American leg of our odyssey, I’d like to thank all of those people we’ve met. And I can’t wait to meet many more in the U.S. and Europe.

Leg 2 starts later this week. 

Finally: Machu Picchu

The morning we were heading to Machu Picchu was like almost every race morning I’ve experienced.

My alarm went off at 4:12 a.m. (side note: I’m weird and set my alarm ending in either 2 or 7 every time. I have no real reason why). We had breakfast at the hotel, but I wasn’t able to eat much, forcing down a little fresh fruit and a roll with jam on it.

People who hike the Inca Trail actually hike straight into Machu Picchu. For most of the rest of us, we take a 30-minute bus ride up the hill from Aguas Calientes.

Despite the dark, early hour, the line stretched about four blocks up a hill. It really was like a bus departure for a marathon. Everyone was dressed warmly in clothes that they would probably start shedding soon after reaching our destination, and jitters were clearly evident.

Some entrepreneurial women walked up and down the street, offering hot coffee and snacks to everyone in line.

The bus ride was fairly uneventful, although it took some energy to keep my stomach in check as we wound up switchback after switchback.

Ruben's classroom was pretty amazing.

Finally, we were walking in Machu Picchu, and Ruben gave us a tour for the first couple of hours.

The place really is magical. And it’s truly amazing to see what people created on the top of a mountain during the 15^th Century. I’ve been reading the book Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time by Mark Adams, a hilarious yet informative tale of exploring this area, which gave me part of the history. (Honesty: I have not actually finished the book yet.) It’s unbelievable to think about Hiram Bingham venturing from Hawaii to Peru and finding this lost city in 1911. To say Bingham discovered Machu Picchu is a stretch, considering that he paid some locals to take him to ruins in the area, but give him credit for exposing the world to Machu Picchu’s wonders.

I’ve thought a lot recently about why so many people have Machu Picchu on their bucket list (or whatever you want to call your wish list of places to visit). I don’t have an answer, but I can tell you that I have been to a lot of cool places and done some pretty great stuff, and the Salkantay Trail ending with Machu Picchu may have moved to the top of the list.

Some people say they have achieved a spiritual enlightenment after visiting Machu Picchu. I don’t know about that. However, I can tell you I gained an appreciation of what humans can do. And while the views of the lost city itself are impressive, the views of the surrounding mountains and valleys are among the most incredible I have ever seen. It’s little wonder why the Incas went to so much trouble to establish their secret city there. 

A random couple decided that an impromptu make-out session
at Machu Picchu was a good use of the morning.

After we descended and had lunch, we hopped on a train and rode back to Cusco.

I’m thankful for the eight people I was fortunate to hike with for five days and being able to experience Machu Picchu with them.

When it was all finished, this is how it added up:

Total Days: 5

Total Miles Hiked: 55

Total Number of Microclimates: 3

Elevation Change on the Second Day: 2,800 meters/9,186 feet

Total Elevation Change on the Trail: 3,600 meters/11,811 feet

Total Temperature Change on the Trail: 73 degrees

Total Mosquito Bites on My Lower Legs & Feet: 21

Total Number of Blisters on Fran’s Feet: 5

Total Soon-to-be-Lost Toenails: 1

Total Number of Stray Dachshunds on the Trail: 1

After Machu Picchu, we jumped on a three-hour train ride back to Cusco, and Wayki Treks had someone waiting to take us all back to our hotels.

It had been a really long day, and we had to hike about two blocks to our hostel because the van wouldn’t make it up the steep hill to the front door. We were exhausted and desperately wanted a shower and dinner (it was about 9:30 p.m.).

Me and Fran from Machu Picchu Mountain,
overlooking the Citadel.

The very kind owner of our hostel looked sheepish and said, “I didn’t think you were coming back until tomorrow.”

Fran had reminded his wife of our return date the morning we left for the hike and watched her type it in. Needless to say, the man found the reservation in his computer, but there was a problem.

“I’m sorry. This has never happened,” he said. “But I’m full tonight.”

We were incredulous, but he quickly jumped on the phone and made a few calls.

“I’ve got you booked into a hotel a few blocks away,” he said. “And I’m going to cover your night’s costs. I’m sorry. This really has never happened. The only thing is we are going to have to walk over there.”

With that, we grabbed all of our stuff, which at that point was spread across six bags, and lugged it up two more very steep blocks and over another three.

It turned out to be a very nice hotel, and we were fortunate to find a restaurant open at 10:30, when we finally rolled in. Of course, the owner was clearly put off that we came in that late and he obviously wanted to close for the night.

We ate quickly and walked back to the hotel. We had a morning flight to Lima the next day.  

The Road to Aguas Calientes

The fourth morning started in a strange way for camping.

The start of Ruben's happy birthday.

Flavio somehow made two birthday cakes and delivered them to our dining tents during breakfast. One of the women in the other group was celebrating her birthday that day, and Ruben’s happy birthday was going to be at Machu Picchu the following day. It was a brilliant way to start the day, and it was a kind final gesture by Flavio and his helpers, who would be heading home after lunch. I’ve said it before, but the meals they created while camping were simply amazing. Wayki Trek is lucky to have Flavio. I know we were lucky that he joined us for the week.

The early part of that day’s hike wound along a dirt road, past a pig farm, over switchbacks up a cliff and again along a dirt road all the way to Hidroelectrica, where our lunch was waiting for us (as well as a train ticket to Aguas Calientes, if we chose not to hike the final few hours).

The sun was beating down, and there wasn’t much shade anywhere around. About an hour into the hike, a bus flew by us with the people inside yelling out. It was the other group.

Apparently, there was a fourth option that we didn’t consider. That group decided to hike about 15 minutes from the hot springs into town and caught a bus all the way to Hidroelectrica. In retrospect, it probably was the best option. We were slugging water almost constantly, but we were all pretty much dragging during the final 90 minutes into lunch. Ruben even tried to flag down a few buses, but all of them refused our offers.

The trail from Hidroelectrica to Aguas Calientes

The train to Aguas Calientes wasn’t going to leave until about 3:45, which would have meant 3-4 hours of waiting. And Ruben assured us that the 2-3 hour hike was beautiful.

He wasn’t lying. Our first view up to Machu Picchu was about 15 minutes into the hike. The route followed the train tracks, but walking allowed us to take it in. A river rushed by on one side, and mountains rose all around us.

It was also very well shaded, giving us a much needed reprieve from the sun.

Unfortunately, one of our fellow hikers had caught a bout with bad water and looked somewhat miserable.

Ruben suggested that she find a quiet place off the trail to take care of some business (or “make an offering to the mountain,” as we had been phrasing it all week). She seemed hesitant until he said, “Would you rather go behind a bush or go poo poo in your pants?” We waited as she ducked off the trail.

I felt like I was straight out of a zombie movie as I dragged myself the final miles into Aguas Calientes at the base of Machu Picchu Mountain.

We’d finally made it to town. And hot showers. And a comfortable bed.

The hotel was nice, even if it was a little strange. Our room was on the third floor, overlooking the river. The staircase was slanted slightly backward like something out of Alice in Wonderland. And a view up the stairs to the fourth floor showed that there was no fourth floor. It was a construction zone. So much for the penthouse suite.

Our group of nine gathered for one last dinner together, followed by a trip to a dance club for a drink to celebrate Ruben’s birthday.

Throughout the week, Ruben had been preaching that the nine of us were a familia, and it really did feel like that. Originally, his point was that things happen along the trail that require everyone to stick together, whether it’s because the trail itself gets dangerous or one of suffers from illness or there is an injury that slows someone down. Our familia was sticking together and helping each other. It was a good group from the beginning, but Ruben really helped bring us closer together.

The penthouse suite at our hotel.

The familia wanted to celebrate Ruben, but the night had to end early. Our alarm clocks would be buzzing soon. The bus to Machu Picchu left at 5:30 a.m.

Day 3 on the Salkantay Trail

We had a choice to make:

1. We could follow our original itinerary, doing a fairly short hike to Playa, where we would have the afternoon free and camp that night. The following morning, we would do a fairly intensive hike up a mountain where we would get a distant view of Machu Picchu.

2. We could hike to Playa, then jump on a two-hour bus ride to hot springs in Santa Teresa. After enjoying the hot springs, we could bus back to Playa and do everything mentioned above.

3. We could hike to Playa, go to the hot springs, camp there and hike out from there the following morning. This hike would be almost entirely flat.

Exhausted from the elevation changes during the previous two days, we all decided that Option 3 sounded like a good call.

Day 3 took us through the rainforest, where we crossed a dozen or so Indiana Jones-style bridges, and we even traversed the side of a mountain that was clearly being eroded by landslides.

We hiked through very small communities that appeared to be set up entirely to service the hikers on the Salkantay Trail, offering cold drinks, chips and bathrooms.

I made a few friends on the trail.

Even the “easy” days on the Salkantay Trail are tough. On the third day, we went about seven miles, ending at lunch around 2 p.m. Other than the fact that nearby road construction had shut down the water – and therefore the toilets – lunch was delightful, complete with a cold cerveza.

The bus ride was interesting. We were stopped twice about 45 minutes into the two-hour ride. I didn’t really understand what the passersby were saying, but it appeared that they were saying to turn back. A few miles later, it became apparent.

There was a bulldozer blocking the road ahead. The driver and both groups’ leaders jumped out of the bus to talk the construction crew. I was convinced we were looking at a delay of at least two hours, but the driver jumped back in about 10 minutes later, fired up the bus and started driving. The side door was open right next to me, and as the bus threaded the needle through the construction, I was staring down at a sheer drop just inches to my right. Thank goodness for talented bus drivers. (Note: Do not ask Fran about this because she slept right through it.)

Prior to this ride, Fran and I had created what we referred to as the worst drinking game of all time. Every time you heard a song that was released during any decade other than the 1980s, you had to drink. We’d been in Peru almost a week at that point, and I think we heard one song from the 1990s and one from the 2000s.

The bus driver, however, was blasting recent dance hits. It was a good thing we weren’t playing the game during that ride.

We pulled into the hot springs a little after 4 p.m. Built right into the side of the mountain next to a roaring river, they springs were in a beautiful setting. And we had the added benefit of having women selling snacks and beer just steps from our tents.

After relaxing our aching muscles in the hot springs, we all gathered around some tables, enjoying popcorn and cervezas until dinner.

I’ve mentioned Ruben a few times, but I haven’t gone into much detail. He is the perfect group leader, especially for treks like this. Ruben has Inca heritage, and he cares deeply about learning and teaching the history, while mixing in a good dose of humor and fun. His English is excellent, and he knows the area well, naming all of the flowers and pointing out the coffee, passion fruit and banana farms along the way. He also has a keen eye for spotting things along the way from caterpillars in cocoons to millipedes scurrying on the trail.

During happy hour on this night, Ruben told us about the indigenous people refusing to go out when it’s foggy. Apparently, there have been reports of people losing organs from their bodies, and the local people believe it’s caused by the “foggy.” In reality, according to Ruben, it’s simply bad people who steal the organs to sell on the black market, and it’s easier to do when it’s foggy. Right as he finished trying to scare us, every light at the hot springs went out. It was excellent timing. And, fortunately, when the lights came on, we all had the same amount of organs as we did during the telling of the story.

Hiking into Playa, Peru for lunch.

It was strange to settle into a sweltering heat inside our tents that night, considering we had been on the brink of freezing just two nights prior. The temperature changes also did not do much to help the smell inside the tents. Of course, we probably had something to do with the smell, too. Regardless, I made sure every possible vent was open in the tent, including one that I insisted Fran open with its 1.5 inches of additional air flow, while still keeping it sealed enough to keep the bugs away.

I slept outside my sleeping bag most of the night. And, thanks to one of our fellow hikers, Fran used an over-the-counter super drug from Canada and finally got a good night’s sleep, despite the cough and cold she was still suffering. We later discovered that the “super drug” is called Dramamine in the U.S.

Perhaps one fact helped us sleep better: this was our last night in tents. The next day we would hike into Aguas Calientes, where we would sleep in a hotel before heading up the hill to Machu Picchu.

We were starting to get antsy. But we were ready.

The Salkantay Trail's Longest Day

It wasn’t easy getting out of our sleeping bags on the second day. Ice cracked and fell off the tent flap when the porters delivered the morning coca tea at 6 a.m. It was warmer than the night before, but the sun hadn’t crested the mountains yet.

The highest point of the trek.

After breakfast, we started on what would prove to be our longest day of hiking, climbing for the first hour to the top of the pass at 4,600 meters or just over 15,000 feet.

Coming from Colorado, Fran and I had a slight edge with altitude, but the highest point of the trek was still three times higher than Denver, and I found myself stopping every couple hundred feet to catch my breath, as my heart was beating out of my chest.

When we finally reached the top, we were staring up at Salkantay Mountain, a peak so imposing that no one has ever reached the summit.

There was an audible sigh of relief when the group realized that the rest of the day would be primarily downhill. I did not share that sentiment, however. I’ve run enough downhill races to know the toll it can take on my body, and as I stared out over the distance to where we were heading, I knew we were going to feel every step.

I was excited, though, that we were about to descend through three microclimates during the course of a few hours.

Leaving the Andes and entering the cloud forest.

We dropped pretty quickly, pulling over to the side periodically to let horses pass. About two hours in, we walked through a community of farmers mixed with several group campsites next to one of the rivers we would be following for the next few days.

Throughout the trek, Ruben would stop us every 15 minutes or so and say, “OK, buddies. Everybody good, good? Let’s take a baby break. Everybody water, water.” Clearly he was well seasoned in the hike and knew we needed to conserve energy and remain hydrated.

It was also at this point when Ruben told us that we should reach lunch in “about two hours.”

The downhill march continued. After another 90 minutes, he said we should get to our lunch spot “in about two hours.” Needless to say, we were all starting to get a little hungry and some of us may have edged on cranky.

As I expected, the downhill was doing a number on my quads, and I think all of us stubbed our toes or at least kicked the end of our hiking boots a couple hundred times that day. Fran, coughing and clearly feeling the misery of the cold some idiot gave to her, started getting blisters on her feet and her right big toe was starting to match the dark nail polish she had on it. One look confirmed that she had a 0.002 percent chance of keeping the toenail.

When we finally reached the dining tents for lunch, the whole group was pretty tired, and a few people were really suffering from heat exhaustion.

Not knowing what kind of weather we would experience, we packed for just about every contingency, carrying rain jackets and pants in our daypacks. However, that would prove pointless since the sun shined every day with almost no cloud coverage. As it turned out, the one thing we didn’t pack enough of was sunscreen.

Flavio once again surprised us at lunch, serving up stuffed avocados, soup and meat over rice. I was amazed at every meal with his creativity and ability to cook somewhat lavish spreads while camping. Every meal he made was delicious, and there was never a time I left the table hungry.

My feet were throbbing, and I wanted nothing more than to take my hiking boots off. I was actually wearing my Brooks trail runners because I figured out last year that I liked hiking in them more than I did hiking boots. It was true again, but eventually I started feeling like every rock on the trail was pushing through my sole, and the sides of my feet felt like they had doubled in size.

We had descended 2,000 meters already, and we had another 800 to go before reaching our campsite another 3-4 hours away.

The march continued through the cloud forest and into the rainforest.

Finally we reached a small town, took a hidden trail down to the river and across a bridge before reaching a road. From there we could see our tents in the distance.

There was a second Wayki group with us throughout the five days, but we remained separated most of the time in order to keep the group sizes more manageable.

But when we hobbled up to our campsite, which was actually in someone’s backyard, the other group was celebrating. They were literally throwing their hands in the air and giggling.

“There’s a working toilet, and it even has a seat,” one of them said.

We, too, let out whoops of joy.

Our bathroom at lunch. Yes, that hole you see inside is the toilet.

I know it’s strange, but the thought of an actual bathroom was among the most beautiful sites we had seen during a day when we had seen thousands of beautiful sites.

People don’t talk about it much, but toilets are one of the most common differences between countries.

In Peru, many toilets, including the ones at the Cusco market and at our lunch spot on this day, are simply holes to straddle. I honestly have no idea what the proper way to use that type of toilet. Fran keeps telling me it’s not that hard, you just straddle it. I’m pretty sure I would pee all over my pants while trying and/or fall in the hole.

Most of the ones we ran across in Peruvian cities had basins but no seats. You had better be prepared with your own toilet paper if you need it, too, because almost none of the bathrooms in Peru have it. And, like most places in Latin America, you can’t flush toilet paper because the pipes can’t handle it. Instead, there are small trash cans near every toilet. Needless to say, it all takes a little getting used to.

And, of course, the celebration about the toilet at the campsite was completely justified. To top it off, there was also a shower. It was free if we wanted cold water, or 10 soles if we opted for hot water. Ten soles is about $3.33. Almost all of us made the investment.

Being in the rainforest meant a significant number of bugs. We sprayed most of our clothes with permethrin before we went, and I had sprayed myself with bug spray throughout the day.

However, after I took my socks off and stood in line for the shower, I was bitten 21 times by mosquitos. Every single bite was below my sock line. Mosquitos generally love me, so it was not a big surprise. The bites generally get pretty swollen on me, but these bugs left small, flat red circles with a dark spot in the middle, almost resembling tiny nipples (which must have meant that I had 23 nipples at the time).

Freshly showered, we ate another great dinner and laid out our plans for our third day of hiking.

We were halfway to Machu Picchu.

The Challenges of Preparation

Hypothetical Situation: You are traveling for the next month. You will be hiking through mountains more than 15,000 feet high, followed by time in the sweltering rainforest working with animals. Don’t forget a few cities, where you may need nicer clothes. And you have a 50-pound limit on luggage in a single bag.

What do you pack, and how the hell do you pack it?

It’s been an awesomely hectic couple of weeks, as Fran and I try to tackle the puzzle mentioned above. There have been trips to REI. To Target. To the outlet stores in Castle Rock. Those shopping excursions, of course, add another challenge to the equation since we are adding more stuff to a very limited amount of space in our bags.

That might be why our eyes lit up every time we saw something that could fold up to next to nothing in size. I have a week’s worth of clothes in a stuff sack, compressed to the size of a football, and I think our rain gear could fit in a tin a Skoal.

Think I can fit my pillow in with my malaria  meds?

I suspect if you check a satellite photo of Machu Picchu next week, you will be able to spot us by the world’s most wrinkly clothing.

It’s been a fun kind of hectic, trying to work out every last tiny detail, like where can we keep our cars and what kind of insurance do we need? Meanwhile, we need to figure out transportation within the countries we’re visiting, and figuring out lodging might not be such a bad idea.

For those of you who might be thinking of doing something like this in the future, here is the strategy I recommend:

1. Make a list of places you are likely to go and when you are likely to be there.

2. Figure out a packing list with only the essentials.

3. Take mimosas out to the balcony and put your feet up for a while.

4. Figure out the rest later. There’s no reason to stress.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to finish packing. Or maybe to drink a mimosa.