February in the Northeastern USA provides the downright dreary trio of cold, gray, and wet. People seem to be hibernating in their choice of abode, and outdoor adventures are mostly on hold. The one obvious exception is skiing, since ski-able mountains are within driving distance for most people. Unfortunately this is one outdoor sport that has gotten cost-prohibitive for many families in recent years, and we had to do some research to find a reasonably-priced winter spot for us.
We landed with north-central Vermont, in my favorite state and home to lots of popular and overlooked spots for skiing and hiking. It’s also close to some famous breweries and covered bridges!
We’re going to start the 7-hour drive early in the morning, switching off driving duties as the child sleeps. Admittedly, it’s a long drive for a 5-day visit. We initially wanted to go to New Hampshire because it’s closer. But the NH ski area we chose was close to Boston and likely to be uber-crowded on a holiday weekend. That crowding issue would only be exacerbated by the frustratingly lack of snowfall during the first half of winter this year.
We’re also picky on the ski area; a beginner-oriented hill with family-friendly facilities is all we need, and there’s no need to pay for more. A place like Cochran’s Ski Area.
So we scored an AirBNB in quiet-looking Williamstown, whose biggest claim to fame appears to be a spider farm. AirBNB isn’t the inexpensive, easy option it used to be, but VRBO and hotel options were still pricier.
Williamstown is a good base for heading out on Vermont adventures. It’s near the state’s capital, Montpelier, the most quintessential New England town. Williamstown is also not far from Stowe and its hiking/beer/skiing scene, and it’s close enough to Burlington, too.
Vermont Family Road Trip: Preparation
Before this Vermont family road trip, we daytripped to a hill in Pennsylvania to show our 3-year-old what the ski experience is like. “Hill” because it was a mountain the same way a koala is a bear… in name only.
Regardless, our kid LOVED it. He showed a concerning combination of lack of both fear and control, but that’s a problem for another day. He understands the “French fry” vs “Pizza” concept, and he’ll take a lesson in Vermont to provide some skills to barely justify his healthy self-confidence.
So off we go! We’ll be packing clothes and food these next two days. Maybe we’ll be proactive and even pack a slow cooker meal. Slow cooker meals when the high in Williamstown will be 19F (-7C)? Yes, please!
Oh and I’ll pack my brand-new GoPro Hero10. Can’t wait to try out my new toy and show ya’ll what I came up with. Until then, chau, and stay warm!
The damp tunnel from Union Square would be gloomy if not for the red and yellow mural. It’s decorated with lively stencils announcing ones approach to Chinatown. Pedestrians make their way through the tunnel and ignore the occasional cars and also the unhoused couple at the exit.
I had followed someone’s directions to North Beach and didn’t realize I’d first pass through Chinatown. San Francisco’s Chinatown is the largest outside of Asia, home to 70,000 people in an area of thirty blocks. The sidewalks are crowded this Sunday, and several signs and lanterns portend the upcoming Lunar New Year. I pass by narrow stores stuffed to the brim with objects like $2.99 winter beanies and restaurants with roasted ducks hanging in the window, and the smell of mainbao stands out.
A little girl in a pink jacket is standing in front of a bucket of fresh crabs, and she is picking out an individual crustacean for her mother to purchase when I spot the red, green and white of the Italian flag painted on a lamppost catty-corner to me. I zip through the crowd and cross the street before the signal changes.
Discovering Coit Tower
In one block it’s a different city. Corner delis, espresso cafes, and large sidewalks with vegetation create a faux European vibe. I hear a lot more English (and see a lot more Italian) than just a few minutes ago. Upon reaching a large plaza, I spot a tower on a hill. The views have to be great from there, so I decide to walk in that direction. Following are several blocks of steep sidewalk.
In the middle of the climb the smell of coffee makes itself present. There is a cafe constructed out of somebody’s living room window, and it’s cleverly named “Hole in the Wall”. I’m intrigued and order a cup.The barista is about thirty years old, slightly stout, and has a sincere smile. Apparently his other job is archaeologist. He exclaims, “I’ll trade places!” a bit too enthusiastically when I tell him I left six inches of snow back home. Apparently “SF” has been grey and gloomy for weeks.
The barrista doesn’t drink coffee but recommends the house brew. Not shockingly, it’s a good Italian roast.
The climb takes about ten minutes, but it feels longer. The small park that contains Coit tower smells of eucalyptus and marijuana. The weather is cool and humid. One can spot Alcatraz, the Golden Gate and Bay Bridges, but unfortunately none of my photos come out well. Now I’m powered by the double dose of caffeine and exploration, and I head downhill towards the water.
View of Coit tower from my hotel room
This is a mistake! Soon I’m in the Embarcadero neighborhood, surrounded by an infinite number of groups of babbling tourists, colorful dinging trolleys, and shouting hot dog vendors. Someone on the sidewalk adds house music to complete the chaos.
My internal clock is three hours ahead of the city’s, and I’ve been awake since 5am. It’s time to grab some dinner and recharge.
San Francisco: Outdoor Activity Tip
During my quick trip, I learned there are plenty of cool urban hikes in San Francisco. For a complete list, check out Alltrails. In addition to the Coit tower walk, I took a hike to the Twin Peaks via Mission District. Get to the top of the peaks to see the whole city below! Or if you have our luck, arrive with the fog and the sensation that this city of 800,000 instantly disappeared below you. Remember to bring hiking shoes and water.
The hike was steep, and I completed it with two friends in about an hour. Afterwards we celebrated with burritos and beer in Mission District. It was divine.
December is a fun, festive time in the Mid-Atlantic, and we’re avoiding travel as the holidays approach. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t already dreaming up our next adventures! 2024 is a couple of weeks away, and we have a few things planned for the coming year. Let’s start with the more obvious one.
#1: Staying Local
Rock climbing in Wilmington, Delaware
Primarily we’re going to continue to explore the Mid-Atlantic USA, from New York down to Virginia. It’s not quite the South, it’s not quite New England, and the region has a blend of colonial past and cosmopolitan present. After all, the country’s largest and oldest cities are here (not to mention its capital)!
There’s a lot of outdoor fun to be had, too. The Appalachian mountains, Atlantic Ocean and Chesapeake Bay provide popular hiking, biking, and watersport options. We’ll post our recommendations as we try new activities and visit new places.
Of course, we’ll probably visit other regions of the USA too. But those adventures haven’t been brainstormed yet :)
#2: Europe Family Trip?
This is a big trip that’s still in the idea phase. But we’d like to make our first international trip as a family (toddler included) to the Tirol region in Austria. Why Tirol? Well, after months of impressive research, Janina discovered her ancestors moved from Tirol to Peru in the 1800s!
Tirol has fantastic attractions besides familial history. Depending on the season, I want to go skiing or riding mountain coasters. And I plan to break up my days at the beer gardens. You know, live like a local. And obviously we are going to visit a castle or five. Austria is full of beautiful looking day hikes as well, and it’s only a short drive to Italy if we decide to extend the trip.
#3: The Big One: CHOQUEQUIRAO
It’s called “The Other Machu Picchu”, and its name means “Cradle of Gold”. But Choquequirao receives barely a fraction of the number of visitors as Machu Picchu! This might change, as there are plans to install a cable car to the site. We want to witness the Cradle of Gold before it’s as packed with people as the DC Metro’s Red Line at rush hour.
Currently the only way to Choquequirao is by foot, and it’s a strenuous 4-5 day hike. Although the lower altitude is easier on us folk coming from zero feet above sea level, the trek is more technically challenging than the Inca Trail.
Let’s just say we’re going to be getting the most out of our new gym membership as we prepare for this hike!
Choquequirao: Cost Breakdown
We’re a few steps ahead on planning for this trip and almost have the funds in our Travel Savings. First, I’ll show you the cost breakdown for our trip. And then I’ll explain where you can save money or where you may decide to spend more.
For Cusco, we’d like to spend two days to acclimate before a hike, and two days afterwards to recharge and explore the city. We love Ninos Hotel, but a hostel works if you’re looking for something more budget-friendly.
You don’t need a guide to visit Choquequirao (another way the site differs from Machu Picchu). But this is unfamiliar terrain, and we’ll get more out of the experience going with someone who knows the trail and the region’s culture and history. Peru Summit is our go-to for tours in the Cusco region because of their experience and use of only local guides.
You may want to add more to incidentals if you are going to splurge on nice meals and souvenir shopping. Baby alpaca wool is splendidly soft, but it’s not cheap!
Finally, we didn’t include insurance in our budget, because our health insurance company covers international travel.
Conclusion
Although we’re inside a lot more this time of year, we’re not necessarily at home all day. This region comes alive after Thanksgiving with old-world style Christmas markets and festivals. We may post a few articles on our favorite markets or places to visit during Christmastime. But in reality this is a slow time for our travels and the blog.
We wish you all a wonderful holiday season, wherever you may be or however you celebrate. And when it’s over, on to another epically fun year!!!
The shadows already stretched long over the orange leaves covering the ground on a most quintessential autumn afternoon. They alternated with bright sun beams, which illuminated giant, reaching oaks and their few remaining brown leaves. Our walk started with a deceptively difficult uphill trudge. The lack of other people was evidence that either this park is unknown by outdoor enthusiasts, or that the region was already hibernating for the winter.
Or both.
Dog!
The “First State” is also the Last State. As in, the last state to be included in the National Parks Service. First State National Historic Park comprises of six sites in Delaware. These are mostly buildings that were important during the lead-up to and time of the American Revolution.
The Park also has four trails. These short hikes take you over rolling fields, farmland, creeks, and through forests in the Brandywine Valley. The trails are free to visit, but not always well-marked. In fact, we only made it back to our car before dark because of great location information from the AllTrails app!
A vigilant bald eagle
I don’t have a story or article to write about First State National Historic Park. But it is a spectacular spot. We had a wonderful time walking around a horse farm, a vineyard, and then through some of the most untouched wooded areas in the region. I simply didn’t go with an angle or story in mind, and decided to mention it on the site because it was an enjoyable experience.
So if you’re in the Brandywine Valley and looking for a good outdoor activity, consider the trails at First State National Historic Park. Just bring a good GPS with you!
It’s no secret that Peru is an adventurer traveler’s dream, but even the most ambitious itineraries focus on Andean excursions or Amazonian experiences. Which means they ignore the country’s coastline- all 3,080 kilometers of it. This is a shame, because when you visit Peru, you’ll almost certainly be on the coast (specifically in Lima) to leave or enter the country. And while Lima is popular for very real and remarkable reasons, outdoor sports is not one of them.
But that’s not entirely fair. You can definitely have a memorable time outdoors in this city. It may be on a fantastically long surf break, at a pyramid built around the same time as those in Egypt, or in a unique ecosystem that feels worlds away from the desert. So here is the list of the best outdoor activities in Lima!
Outdoor Activities in Lima
Surf
Lima is one of the best places to learn to surf. That’s because the waves are long and easy to manage. If you already know how to surf, you can score a surfboard for S/ 25-35 an hour (roughly $7-10 USD). Just walk down from the malecón to the shore in Miraflores if you’re interested. You can ask for lessons there, too.
You’ll want a wetsuit. The Pacific is cold!
Bike
It’s easier and safer than ever to bike in Lima. You can rent a quality bicycle at Larcomar in Miraflores by the hour. In that time you can take the bike lanes towards the San Miguel neighborhood. This is an enjoyable, easy ride through parks and around tennis courts and soccer fields, with the ocean at your side the whole time.
There are also bike tours that include stops at local markets. You can book those at your hotel or online.
Short Hike- Lomas de Lachay & Lúcumo
The Lomas is a special ecosystem that is home to endemic vegetation and animals, and it’s made possible by the winter fog of Lima. With Lima being the 2nd-largest desert city on Earth, the Lomas are kind of an oasis.
The ones most developed for tourists (aka safest) are Lachay and Lúcumo. These are just outside of town, so plan a good half day around your visit. Lúcumo is closer, but Lachay is much bigger.
Paraglide
This is the most obvious outdoor activity, because the second you stroll around Miraflores you’ll spot paragliders taking off and swooping around the malecón like the condors in Colca. Gliders fly with a pilot, and it cost S/ 60 the last time I checked. You can literally walk up and glide, or reserve a spot for another day.
Archaeological Adventures!
The plethora of Peruvian archaeological sites tingles the imagination. You’ll see foreigners talking about local history and culture with the excited energy of an Indiana Jones (but with a guide and a smartphone). Even Lima has its pre-Incan pyramids, usually called Huacas.
Huaca Pucllana is popular and right in Miraflores. It’s also in the photo above! Other Huacas are less developed for tourists, and outside of touristy areas, possibly unsafe for visitors. Further out of town is the pre-Incan complex of Pachacamac, an ancient pilgrimage site.
Conclusion
Ok, I have to be honest. The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of visiting Lima isn’t the outdoor activities, but the fabulous food scene. The ceviches, comida criolla, and fantastic fusion of gastronomies are tops. And in 2023, the city has the number 1 ranked restaurant in the world!
But if you explore Lima, you’ll find plenty of outdoor fun to be had. After all, the weather is nice year-round. There’s no rainy season, and the temperature is consistently between 60 and 80 F (or in Celsius, 16 and 26). So you can enjoy any of these activities at any time of the year.
Have you done any of these activities in Lima? If so, mention below! Otherwise, hope you make it there soon!
We would have been stuck like flies in honey without the 4-wheeled drive transportation to Ulcumano Ecolodge. Bumpy, curvy, muddy- the offshoot road from Oxapampa had all the nausea-inducing necessities. Surrounding the single lane were countless trees that reached 60+ feet in height. Their narrowness suggested this land was converted to forest about a generation ago, and this was further suggested by small plots still dedicated to cattle and small agriculture.
The half hour took us to a cooler climate, and I put a longsleeved shirt on while observing the ecolodge’s entrance. A group of birders were walking on a trail. They had rain jackets, bucket hats, long pants and heavy-looking binoculars. They were speaking Spanish, likely Limenos given their accent. The men had salt-and-pepper stubble or short white beards. As a group they headed to a canopy walk, where they would gaze intently over bromelaids the height of buildings.
To the Cabins!
A tall, thin man meets us after we disembark. His name is Eduardo, and he is the owner of the ecolodge. Eduardo has a narrow face, short dark beard, and a quick diction. I notice sometimes he twitches, possibly from overthinking, as he explains everything to us on the walk to our lodging.
There are six wooden cabins with balconies, each separated from the rest by forest. A seventh is Eduardo’s family’s home. The cabins use solar power, and Eduardo tells us how to use the lights and shower. We take a turn off the main path, on stepstones that lead to our lodging. I hear what sounds like a mechanical “BEEP!”. Eduardo says it’s the white-eared solitaire, also known as the Telephone Bird for its unique song.
It’s the only telephone ring we will hear in our cabin. That’s because there is no internet or phone signal. The cabin is large, with two beds and several tall windows with white curtains. It smells of wood. The balcony dominates the building. It is on stilts, in order to better view over the trees and into the green montane forests that appear to breathe fluffy clouds into existence, like vapor over a body of water on a humid July morning back home. The clouds roll over the landscape. There is no sign of human activity anywhere.
Before he leaves the cabin I ask Eduardo if we should use insect repellant when outside. He pauses, then looks at us and says, “So many chemicals. Well, it is not my skin.” Then he shrugs and leaves.
Sia Cave
We had barely unpacked our bags when a knock is at the door. Eduardo invites us on a hike to a cave, a trek of about 2-3 hours. He has on his rainjacket. The rhythm of raindrops hitting its orange hood is steady. I do a quick look-around, and there is no sun piercing the foggy grey sky of Ulcumano. We agree to meet with the group at the ecolodge’s entrance in 15 minutes. Then Janina and I change into our rain gear, and we fill up our water bottles.
The trail cuts through Ulcumano’s 102 hectares to a little-visited cave called Cueva Sia. White and brown trees, much like the ones that greeted us, leer over and around us like palm-fingered oglers. Lichens cover their branches and the muddy path smells of fresh, wet leaves. Jurassic plants of up to 40 feet in height neighbor the path too. Because of the rain, it’s not very warm, but it’s not cold, either.
At one point we stop after Eduardo thinks he hears an animal munching up in the canopy. We gaze up, fat raindrops occasionally splashing our faces. We never spot the possible mammal or hear the munching again. But we do hear our invisible friend, the Telephone Bird.
The last section is muddier, steep, and downhill. We babystep to the cave’s entrance and can’t go far inside because the rocky floor is slippery due to a waterfall. We take some photos that don’t come out because of the lighting, eat a snack, and talk a bit before returning.
The hike to the cave took us over an hour, but the energized walk back, motivated by the prospect of a warm, dry lunch, only took 50 minutes.
Lunch!
The hike tired us out, and all one hears in the large cafeteria is the light clinking of plates, silverware and glasses on our wooden table as we chow down on homemade chaufa.
“Hijito!” Eduardo shouts as his wife enters the room with a small baby in her arms. Eduardo’s shoulders relax, and our twitchy guide is transformed into a smiling father, contently beaming with happiness.
Upon seeing Eduardo with his family, we decide to call our 2-year-old son. He’s with his grandparents back in the USA. But the wifi signal isn’t strong enough to make a connection, and the call fails.
The Telephone Bird blares out a few beeps as we leave the cafeteria.
The Night Walk
We spend most of the afternoon resting in the cabin and washing up. The group has decided to do the moonlit canopy walk after dinner. Dusk is slightly chilly, and the sun adds pink streaks to the orange and red hues streaking over the verdant hills. It fees like autumn back home.
Ulcumano’s canopy walk is a series of six cable bridges that are connected by 40-foot-tall platforms. We have on long sleeves and pants, and the moon provides enough light now that the clouds have finally departed. Upon reaching the top of the first metal platform we hook onto cables with carabiner clips. There are two cables, one on each side, and we’re clipped onto both.
We go single file onto the first bridge. I’m the last to go, right behind Janina, who pauses and stares at the cable.
“No worries, just one of these cables can hold an elephant!” our friend Matt encourages her as he glances behind from the bridge. Matt would know something like that. Janina steps onto the bridge, which feels almost as sturdy as the platform.
The moonlight beams onto the forest canopy, a mix of trees and fabulously tall ferns. It smells of fresh vegetation with a clean, crisp air. We flash our lights onto branches and treetops, but large mammals usually avoid those spots during full moons. And tonight they certainly are.
There are plenty of pauses in the conversations as we vainly search for monkeys, spectacled bears, and other animals. It’s tough to picture the Ulcumano of 18 years ago, when cattle grazed throughout the area. The first Ulcumano tree was planted after Eduardo bought the land. The lonely pioneer now has 1000s of siblings, each with its branches spiraling out like fan blades with small needles on the edges.
The Dream
Nature recovers faster than humans expect. The canopy walk is barely at the height of the forest’s top layer now; several years ago it was above everything. Top predators like falcons and bears have moved in, showing the ecosystem is strong again.
Maybe Eduardo is living The Dream. His family lives off the land which they’ve helped recover. But there is a cost. Their son stays with family during the week in order to go to school. And a degree of loneliness must be a part of everyday life. May it’s The Dream, maybe not. But if it is, I’m glad to be a part of it.
Despite not spotting one on the canopy walk, we DID see monkeys on this trip! This one ate the avocados of the tree next to our bungalow in Oxapampa. It threw leaves at me as I took photos.
At first glance,“Go to Little Italy in San Diego” sounds a bit like “Try the burritos in Paris”. After all, San Diego is only 17 miles from Mexico. Famous foods like the carne asada burrito are all you really need to complete a stop in Southern California. But San Diego also has a vibrant Little Italy with a deep history and connection to the immigrants who arrived generations ago. And the neighborhood is the PERFECT place to rest and fuel up for the amazing array of outdoor activities available in town.
Our Stroll Through Little Italy, San Diego
For a half dozen or so blocks, sidewalk seating takes up would-be parking spots. Trattorias and corner stores selling artisanal pasta, breads, and more pack in customers despite the hour being well between lunch and dinner.
There is a Roman water fountain up a short hill, and children race around it in an apparent game of tag. We walk through two pop-up art markets. The sounds of busing tables and the low murmur of restaurant clientele’s conversations are occasionally pierced by a car horn in the street’s slow-moving traffic. We pass by multiple window displays of canoli. At times it smells fragrant, of freshly-prepared foods and espresso.
I forgot my sunglasses and find myself squinting in the warm, bright afternoon. We sit down under an umbrella, across the sidewalk from the inside of a restaurant. The waiter is quick to attend us, but offers no pressure when we say we just want a coffee for now. And a tiramisu.
The espresso dopio was exactly the jolt I needed. With that and the tiramisu, I have the energy to explore. A steady line of people are coming in and out of the adjacent corner store. I join, walking in and admiring how expertly organized the rows of sauces, noodles, and special ingredients are in the small space.
The store owner is a woman with dirty blonde hair and a green apron. It flies about as she flits around the store like an elementary teacher who needs to assist almost every student during test-taking time. I buy a bottle of Calabrian peppers. I can’t wait to add them to sauce the next time we make pasta.
My East Coast bias told me there couldn’t be a Little Italy worth visiting in Southern California. But that was way off. This was a perfect way to relax and refuel after days of paddle boarding and sunset runs on the boardwalk. I recommend you try it too!
In a place like Ninos Hotel, avoiding coffee is easily the worst part of altitude adjustment (necessary before starting the Inca Trail). The freshly made bread rolls, of three unique types, warmed our bellies in the cold Cusco morning. They were accompanied by locally-made butter and fruit jellies made from things like mountain elderberry. Everything else we ordered for breakfast was delectable, from the pancakes to eggs.
The attentive, patient waitress quickly moved plates on and off the relatively tiny table in the dining room, which was full of hanging plants, wooden furniture and a lime-green, wrap-around balcony above. The breakfast was a warm welcome after our two-flight trip, and it felt like the first rays of sun on your face after a long week of rain. Surely the coffee we regrettably rejected must have been out of this world.
With only three days in Cusco, we decided to start exploring right away. The receptionist offered tiny coca-flavored candies to suck on, saying it would help with the altitude adjustment. I snagged a few and shoved them into a back pants pocket.
Always trust the locals.
Streets of Cusco
The brick pedestrian street was flanked by whitewashed buildings with vermillion tiled roofs that served as homes, small hotels, general stores and pharmacies. Many of them were flying the red-and-white Peruvian flag, usually accompanied by the rainbow Cusco banner. It was chilly in the shade and refreshing in the sun, but by no means warm. A breathtakingly blue sky hosted several harmless clouds.
I picked up signs that the safety in Cusco was not only better than social media would have one believe, but that even the most common crime against tourists (pickpocketing) wasn’t too bad. Expensive phones and cameras were practically being flaunted. A couple of tall blonde Gringos in blue Patagonia insulated vests were even holding up GoPro cameras as they filmed their city stroll.
The Market
We moved past sidewalk vendors selling trinkets and unexpectedly into an artesian fair. It was neatly organized, with rows of vendors under white canopies. They were painters, textile makers, and ceramic artists. Most wore wool sweaters and hats. The chullo hat, with extra-long sides to keep the ears warm, was popular. Many of the women had colorful skirts, the colors and designs often telling from what town the person came. It smelled of palo santo, a relaxing and spiritual incense not unlike sage. Two musicians were under one canopy, and their acoustic sound went above the murmur of souvenir-searching travelers and vendors.
There was no shade in this plaza. I took off my hat and drank some water. It’s good to stay hydrated in the altitude.
The Perfect Purchase
The markets in Cusco are like the dancefloor at a wedding. Some people are ready to go, and others are tentative. But it’s best to be deliberate when deciding which stand to approach. That’s because you will be shown every product, at every size, and at variable prices depending on how interested you seem. One can lose a lot of time here.
A woman with tan complexion that suggested years of Andean sun sat in one of the stands. She wore a bowler hat and red sweater, and her face showed just the very beginnings of middle age. Her tent area was about 20 square feet large and full of hand made clothes. Wool sweaters hung on the sides of the stand and made a fuzzy wall of varying vibrant and dull colors.
We felt a few pieces of clothing and noticed they were very smooth.
“Baby alpaca,” the woman said, nodding. She dutifully noted the price as we turned our attention to a new piece of clothing. These were all obviously well done.
But one stood out. It was a brown sweater with a hood, with figurines of llamas on the fringes. Did she have one in a smaller size, for a 2 year old, perhaps?
“Si,” she responded, again nodding. Swiftly she found the size we needed and told us the price, ready for us to haggle down a few soles. But we agreed on the first offer, and I pulled out some cash. Our kid couldn’t make it to Peru this time, but he was going to love this addition to his wardrobe.
Hello! If you liked this travel anecdote from Cusco, maybe you’d enjoy more of my travel writing:
It’s been over a month since my last article. And that’s simply because too much fun has been going on.
First, I’m playing around more with YouTube. Expect videos of outdoorsy scenes, such as this 6-minute beachside soundscape, and of course, travel guides. A major playlist is going to be Surf & Pizza. Just turn it on and chillax to sounds of the beach, sunsets, and pizzerias (because beaches and pizzas are obviously a most perfect combo!).
But the actual cause for the pause between posts was a family trip to California. We hit up some national park areas in San Fran, then ran our rental car some 500-600 miles south to the state’s second-largest city, San Diego. For the most part we stayed on the slower and unanimously more alluring Route 1, the Pacific Coast Highway. San Diego’s sunset welcomed us, and we lucked out with sunny days the rest of the trip (no “June gloom” as the locals call it).
It was more than worth it, even for someone who despises driving.
One the way to Big Sur on the Pacific Coast Highway
Next Country: USA!
I just realized I’m writing this the day after the USA’s Independence Day. So timely.
This brings me to the next point of this post: the next country to be included in Gringo Inca will be the good ol’ USA. Now, don’t expect a full guide on every town and all fifty states- at least not right away :). We’re gonna post about our favorite outdoor things in San Diego, then write a bit about our local region, the too-often-overlooked Mid-Atlantic.
There’s simply too much that we’ve been doing that people either don’t know about or that we’ve decided is worth sharing! Whether it’s camping in pine forests with the sounds of sea, kayaking every type of body water imaginable, or hiking in all four seasons, we’re doing it all and can’t wait to share it with you.
Until next time!
-Brad
I really liked this pelican, who was soaring solo over the sunny San Diego shoreline. Fly on, buddy!
They say a shaman ran the Inca Trail in a quarter of the time that it takes a normal person to hike it. He channeled the spirit of a puma, and with feline nimbleness swiftly ran across bridge, trail and even cliffside with no fear of danger.
Maybe it’s true. What is certain is that the Inca Trail and surrounding area in Cuzco attract types who are into spirituality, both New Age yuppies and shamans alike. Streets in Cuzco cater to tourists’ interest in mysticism with everything from crystals to ayahuasca ceremonies.
Indeed, Cuzco is considered a sacred city in the Incan tradition. Even without that background, one can imagine how long hikes in stunningly beautiful environs can be a kind of spiritual experience. Or at least, to borrow from what’s trending in 2023, good for your mental health.
We sit around a large wooden table in the well-lit dining room at Nino’s Hotel with our tour company’s owner, Carlos, the evening before the hike. It’s just us and a couple dozen plants, our voices echoing in the well-lit room.
Carlos looks the part of professional tour operator in Cusco. He’s tanned with dark hair, clean cut, wearing a company jacket, and exuding confident wisdom. Besides that we have to pay the remaining balance before beginning the Trail, Carlos insists on spending a good hour to provide tips and advice.
The packing list he presents is longer than the trail itself, and includes items you’d never think necessary, like ear plugs. But Carlos covers all his bases, and sagely notes that tourists often regret ignoring the advice of locals.
He knows what he’s doing. After our eyes glaze over upon noticing the list’s shocking length, Carlos finally offers to include a porter. One of us audibly sighs from relief, then we thank him and pay the remaining balance.
Something we all understand is the privilege we have to go on this hike. Only 500 people a day are allowed on the Inca Trail, including porters and guides. This is why it’s recommended to book a spot months in advance.
There are various options, ranging from the “classic” 4-day to “alternative” treks throughout the region. The 2-day Short Inca Trail is ideal for travelers with little time or who don’t want to camp. It’s the only alternative to the classic 4-day version that also takes you directly to Machu Picchu, and not to Aguas Calientes, the cramped Andean village that sits in a narrow valley and buses visitors to the archaeological site all day.
So we choose that option. Our trek will be a 7.5-mile excursion on the final section of the Inca Trail. We’ll stroll right into Machu Picchu, then sleep in a comfortable hotel in Aguas Calientes. The following day we’ll have a full tour of Machu Picchu.
Carlos was right about at least one thing. Our hotel actually prepared hot breakfast with coca tea, which was ready just as we were trudging out the door at 3:25am.
Km 104
With bagged breakfasts in hand and daypacks over our shoulders, we load onto a tour van. A 90-minute bumpy ride to Ollantaytambo precedes the smoother train ride into much warmer climes. Our guide, Abraham, is already with us.
Abraham has the rare combination of experience and energizing enthusiasm for his job. Like Carlos, he’s tanned, clean cut, and with short black hair. But Abraham is a bit older, maybe in his 40’s, and has the build of someone who is constantly on the Trail.
His voice is energetic for 3:30 in the morning as he reviews our itinerary and explains why he loves this particular trail. All trekkers on the more popular 4-day option arrive to the Sun Gate together at dawn on Day 3. But hikers on the 2-day Inca Trail go at their own pace, so each group arrives at a separate time, enjoying a more intimate moment.
Our train arrives at Kilometer 104 right before my eyelids shut for a deep sleep. It’s warm and the train windows are slightly foggy from the lower altitude’s humidity. After crossing the rushing Urubamba River on a wooden footbridge we change into lighter clothes and put on mosquito repellant with DEET, one of the numerous items on Carlos’ list. There are other groups at the trail entrance. The sounds of people chattering, hurrying to the bathrooms, and spraying repellant take over the scene.
Starting point of the Short Inca Trail
The hike starts off lush and green. Abraham is in the lead and is wearing the red company windbreaker and sunglasses. Well before getting into a decent walking rhythm we reach the first site, Chachabamba.
It’s the least visually impressive site of the day, but Chachabamba provides a look into the lives of everyday people at the height of the Incan Empire. It has a few roofless stone homes and storage buildings which are smooth to the touch. Like all Incan buildings, the stones are cut perfectly into each other with no mortar. There is what remains of an ancient ceremonial structure in the middle, facing the imposing, verdant mountains on the other side of the narrow valley.
Abraham steps in front of this structure and explains Incan culture, including traits that continue to this day. The rushing sounds of the Urubamba and an occasional far-away train whistle accompany his words.
“Ayni. Quechua for reciprocity,” he states, his shoulders slighter taller than before. It’s not a perfect translation; Ayni is a custom in small Andean villages of providing to anyone in need, and not expecting anything in return. It is part of a communal culture where everyone can expect food and a place to sleep at night. Abraham believes such practices made the Incan Empire unique, and actually superior, to contemporary conquering states.
The hike really begins after this educational moment. The first part of the Short Inca Trail is narrow and incessantly uphill. It’s warm and the trail is dusty dry. A fire took out the vegetation, and the only chance for escape from the sun, on this mountainside. Our necks gently glisten from sweat below wide-rimmed hats (also on Carlos’ list). The Urubamba very slowly moves away from us from below, beginning a lengthy decrescendo. It’s barely noticeable over the group’s voices, breathing, and crunching over dirt and rocks.
It smells… fresh.
The Trail coils up, hugging the Andes like a humongous mystical snake. For a short while we trot along a cliffside. I stop and look over my right shoulder. The sun seems noticeably hotter than a moment ago, and my mouth is dry . The thought of falling floods my brain and paralyzes me. I feel weak in my ankles and knees, convinced that my next step could go awry and send me flying off the mountain.
We had been walking single file, so in a quick moment everyone notices I’ve stopped. Abraham seems to be interviewing me when he inquires, “Brad, do you have vertigo?”
I tell him no. The group takes time to encourage me and gives tips. I’m told the best way to walk these parts, is to not think about the worst that can happen, and to literally look at your next step before taking it.
Just take it one at a time. Just think about your next step, I’m told. It sounds childish but ends up working. Abraham takes my backpack and starts carrying it along with his.
One heavy step after another, I carefully follow the rest of the group. Abraham is right ahead of my wife, Janina. My attention is on their conversation and the next spot to place my foot. We learn that Abraham has spent decades showing visitors Cusco, Machu Picchu and the Sacred Valley. He’s probably done this specific hike a hundred times. His son used to join him, but didn’t love being a tour guide enough to make it into a career.
Eventually I notice that the mountainside is considerably less steep. In thirty minutes we are traipsing around lush, lively tropical trees and bushes at a steady pace.
Wiñaywayna
There is a waterfall where we rest and freshen up for a few moments. The water is cold enough to make one shiver, even after sweating in the sun for the past couple of hours. After this the trail expands and is formed by larger, more intricately-carved stones. The Incas constructed trails to be wider and more elegant as they approached places of importance. The impressiveness of the road matched the importance of the spot.
Despite the trail’s widening and impressive stonework, there is nothing here. We’re still surrounded by lush jungle vegetation, with mountains and the Urubamba to one side. Soon, steep steps lead us to a gigantic boulder and then around it. Each step is just tall enough for discomfort, and the group breathes a bit heavier.
Except for Abraham, who walks up each with the same amount of effort as someone hopping on the subway back home. Janina is right behind him, chatting away. I’m keeping up with everyone, feeling relatively calm.
Then from behind the boulder, a super-sized stone citadel suddenly leaps into view. Winaywayna takes over our entire field of vision and wonder. The site was hidden so well that we could hardly be more surprised if an unpredicted eclipse had happened.
Entering Winaywayna
This place is impressive on its own right, without the assistance of being near Machu Picchu. Its curved mountainside is perfectly terraced, and smooth steps take us to a stone temple of ten windows. Through one of the windows we can see the waterfall from earlier. Abraham explains that Winaywayna is Quechua for “Forever Young”.
Strolling through Winaywayna
It’s no surprise that this location was likely an important place for agriculture, given the presence of hundreds of preserved terraces and the proximity to Machu Picchu. We take some photos and converse a bit before walking to the nearby lunch spot.
Temple at Winaywayna
Knobs and shelves, used for hanging clothes or belongings, are all over Winaywayna.
Gringo Killer to Intipunku
After an impressive meal, the group rolls on through the jungle at a healthy pace. The path continues to widen, now flat and partly shaded. Hummingbirds flit by on all sides, and we hear them as often as see them. Soon enough we arrive to the entrance of the park of Machu Picchu, where Abraham provides our documentation to a few casual-looking rangers at a kiosk.
Official entrance to the Machu Picchu Reserve.
The Trail is even more impressive than before Winaywayna. I’m striding along strongly, once again carrying my backpack. We turn a corner, and there it is: a stupidly steep set of stairs referred to as the Gringo Killer. Our group goes up one at a time. Each person crawls with their hands at some point.
“DEATH!” our friend, Maria, blurts out upon reaching the last step.
Our porter, Jesus, walks up with the same uncomfortable look on his face as someone whose dog is about to do its business on the neighbor’s lawn. He doesn’t use his hands and isn’t breathing hard when finished. There is a platform at the top, but whether it’s to stop and appreciate the Andean landscape or recover from the ascent is uncertain. We use it for the latter.
Jesus cheers me on at the Gringo Killer
Although the Gringo Killer isn’t the end of the hike, it announces the final approach to the archaeological site of Machu Picchu. Before we can catch our breath we are near Inti Punku, the Sun Gate. And just as Carlos promised, we’re alone.
The Sun Gate is the real entrance to Machu Picchu. It is a short, stony sentinel, sun-kissed and straddling a low mountaintop as it announces our arrival. Only now can we see the actual site of Machu Picchu below us.
The sun is a couple hours away from setting, so its rays almost perfectly fit through the gate onto Machu Picchu below. Hundreds of perfectly straight terraces surround ancient stone temples, storehouses, and homes. The thatched roofs and gold are gone, but besides that, much of the site is restored to how it was centuries ago.
Directly behind Machu Picchu is the peak of Huayna Picchu mountain. The Urubamba returns to the picture, snaking around below.
Approaching Machu Picchu :)
We give each other sweaty hugs, smile, and take photos.
Machu Picchu
The relaxed downhill walk to the site takes about half an hour. From there everyone takes photos in the classic spot in the middle of Machu Picchu, with the thatched-roof Funerary Hut and Huaynu Picchu mountain behind. A crowd of visitors is there, so we have to wait our turns.
The only difficulty here is sneaking a snack without the lurching llamas noticing and demanding a bite. A few smart hikers have taken their shoes off so their tired feet can spread out and enjoy the grass.
Made it!! Machu Picchu’s main site is behind us, with Huaynu Picchu behind that. To the right is the Funerary Hut.
Today Machu Picchu is by far the best-preserved Incan site. Hundreds of visitors walk over its paths, steps, and through its buildings and trails, all of which have been preserved or recreated using the best knowledge available to archaeologists.
Following Incan building techniques, the site is part of the landscape. Huge boulders are carved in the shape of sacred mountains directly behind. The temple tracks the solstices, important times of the year for Incan religious and agricultural calendars. A person can explore for days here.
For me, the Trail was a timely lesson in mindfulness. Hiking one step at a time is a form of meditation; your focus is on the now and nothing else. Over a year of living in a large city during a pandemic, and my father’s recent near-death scare, had invisibly internalized a certain level of anxiety in me. Only later did I realize that overcoming my own thoughts to finish the hike was an inflection point to feeling like myself again.
I thank Abraham for carrying my backpack during the challenging vertiginous section of the Trail, and for helping me get through my own thoughts. Then I ask how he could carry both his and my backpack at the same time.
He still has sunglasses on but I can tell he’s meeting my eyes with his. Then he smiles and reminds me.
