erik's adventures travel forum

A Night to Remember

2012-01-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since my last blog, but I was out of the country the last month, savoring the pleasures of Uruguay, Argentina, and Chile. I also left with a girlfriend and came back with a fiancé. Actually, I popped the question to my inamorata atop a rock in a remote Argentinean valley near Uspallata. It was a perfect summer evening, wisps of cloud drifting in a dusky blue sky, a yellow moon rising over snow-capped mountains on the horizon. Myra was grousing about climbing the rock. We’d been on horseback all day and she was ready – more than ready -- for a hot shower and dinner. But, champ that she is, she clambered up when I insisted she join me, surprised by the bottle of wine I pulled from my pack as we sat down next to each other on the flat-topped boulder. I poured us some good Mendoza Cabernet and touched my paper cup to hers.

What are we toasting? she asked. I’d banged up my knee rock climbing the day before, but I got down on it anyway. Marry me, I said. Really? she said. Yes, I said. She cried, I cried. We finished the bottle of wine as the moon rose, and then we made a little time capsule and buried at the base of the rock, vowing we’d come back some day to dig it up. The ring I’d ordered for her was waiting at her parents’ home in San Antonio. We were flying there from Santiago in just four more days. Meanwhile we were alone together in this mountain valley, only an hour’s ride to the estancia where we’d stable our horses. Food and wine awaited us and a fire was likely blazing in the main house’s big stone hearth.

Countless other travelers had sat before it, sipping snifters of our host’s aged brandy, telling their stories. We would tell ours, too. Likely it would be forgotten by everyone. But we would never forget the warm roughness of the rock, the way the moon looked tipping light into the valley, and the forever joy of that night.

Desintation Unknown

2011-11-30T14:20:00.000-08:00

Destination Unknown is the title of an Agatha Christie novel. The story's main character is a bereaved widow contemplating suicide in a Moroccan hotel. She's convinced by a British secret agent to forgo her bottle of sleeping pills and instead take on a dangerous assignment involving a leper research colony in the Atlas Mountains, lobotomized scientists, and a rich madman with a moneymaking scheme that makes Bernard Madoff's Ponzi haul look like chump change.

This gets me thinking (not about money, although a fraction of Madoff's former fortune would be nice) about the pleasure of an unknown destination and my own upcoming one just about a week from now. My girlfriend and I are flying down to Miami, and then it’s anyone’s guess where we’ll wind up, depending on the vagaries of holiday flights and our buddy passes.

The first possibility is Montevideo, Uruguay, recently singled out as one of the best Latin American cities to live in and ranked 76th out of 350 cities worldwide. Since it’s south of the equator, we’ll be arriving in summer where winds off the Rio de la Plata mitigate the season’s humidity and temperature and usually provide cool nights throughout the city’s charming waterfront barrios. Although it weathered a financial crisis less than a decade ago, the city has enough international bank headquarters to qualify its reputation as “the Switzerland of America.” I guess we won’t have to worry about finding an ATM so that we can sample the cash only cuisine and beachfront culture of the Rambla, the spectacular avenue that runs along the entire coastline of Montevideo and is the world’s longest esplanade.

A second destination is Buenos Aires, whose barrios are a bit more colorful (or maybe just more hyped) than Montevideo’s and which also lies on the Rio de la Plata, although it lacks unimpeded access to the water and feels more landlocked than Montevideo, according to visitors in the know. To those who still have the need to ask, “Where’s the Beef?,” the eighties catchphrase made famous by octogenarian Clara Pelter and now revived by Wendy’s as a retro weapon in the current burger wars, it’s right here in BA, served up at the city’s numerous parilla restaurants, which give Latin luster to the words “grass fed.”

The Pampas, like the Great Plains, conjures visions of rippling grasslands, historic ranches, and the Argentine version of the American cowboy, the gaucho. Traveling only 70 miles west of the city takes you to an estancia and back in time about 200 years to the romantic culture of ranch and horse, the traditional domain of the gaucho. These amazing horsemen once roamed Brazil and Uruguay as well as Argentina and like the American cowboy generated a whole genre of poetry, song, and dance celebrating their unique culture. While my girlfriend and I may not be ready to sit on a horse for days to experience a real cattle drive with a gaucho guide, we would be willing to sit around an evening campfire sipping a great Mendoza Cabernet and savoring asado along with a flaky empanada, the French croissant’s only serious rival.

Either destination will do, although if things don’t go well and bad weather or bad luck intervenes, we can always make do with Miami, a beachfront room at The Betsy, and a splurge dinner at FiFi’s, our new favorite seafood place where they will actually cook your own fresh catch for you. But why bother? The restaurant’s snapper, stone crab, and paella are out of this world. At the bar, we’ll savor a Modelo Especial or maybe a great Malbec. Then we'll toast these two great Latin American cities and celebrate the pleasure of an unknown destination – wherever and whatever it might be.

In Love with Flytraps

2011-11-06T11:33:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit that lately I’ve been doing more thinking than writing. What I’m thinking right now is that if it weren’t for my bicycle accident, I’d be on the Inca trail scouting the terrain for my Inca Trail Marathon taking place this June. After trail running, I would have been off to Ecuador and the Galapagos Islands, a place I’ve not yet visited but to which I plan to guide a new group of explorers. Now the only destination on my immediate horizon is a drive down to Carolina Beach State Park. Starving for the outdoors after being virtually housebound during the past few weeks, I can hardly wait to get into the island park, hike the sea pine-forested trails, and ramble down sand dunes to the ocean.

The night before doesn’t promise much. It’s blustery and rainy, as tempestuous as a mini hurricane, reminding me that I’m truly living in hurricane territory, bringing up sobering images of Irene’s recent mauling of North Carolina’s barrier islands. But the next morning, the rain has gone, leaving a sky washed brilliant blue with tamer winds ushering in high pressure from the west, along with a lone flying cockroach hoping to infiltrate my living room. Not that I’m phobic, but North Carolina reminds me of other buggy places I’ve visited – Africa, for one, and India, where I woke up to the biggest bug I’d ever seen clinging to my mosquito netting, hands down the Gregor Samsa of cockroaches.

In the state park, I don’t see any bugs although I’m sure they’re around. The forest thoughtfully shelters me from the wind and offers that lacy, green light I’ve always loved since my boyhood summers spent in the birch woods of Wisconsin. The smell of pine has always appealed to me; mixed with the aroma of the nearby ocean, it’s clean and refreshing, like Christmas on the Olympic Peninsula. As I walk, I’m keeping a sharp eye out for the Venus Flytrap, a carnivorous plant native only to North and South Carolina, specifically an area within a 60-mile radius of Wilmington.

Yes! Flytraps are an endemic species! This is almost as exciting as searching for blue-footed boobies on Española Island or marine iguanas on Culpepper Island in the Galapagos. While I don’t spot any flytraps along the trail, I have a feeling that they’re lurking close by, trapping and digesting live prey like something from Little Shop of Horrors. I’m also amused by some of the names given to the list of cultivated species of the plant, colorful sobriquets like “Jaws,” “Al Dente,” and “Big Mouth,” as well as the more refined “Korean Melody Shark.”

The plant’s name is also a puzzler. Its common one is “Venus” (from the Latin name for the goddess of love). The genus name translates to “daughter of Dione,” a reference to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, and the species name is Latin for “mousetrap.” I won’t venture a comment, except to suggest that interpretation may depend on your particular success with romance. As for the flytrap’s preferred diet of terrestrial insects, I’m thinking of installing a few plants in my house as an elegant (and certainly more environmental) alternative to roach motels.

An Accidental Tourist

2011-10-16T17:51:00.000-07:00

Since I’m a tour guide, people ask me if I ever get tired of going back to the same places. Here’s my answer. The locations to which I take my groups are some of the most beautiful in the world; it’s pretty tough to become indifferent to beauty. Culturally, the places I visit are diverse – from Africa to Asia to South America. Every time I go back, I learn something new and experience the location in a different way. And returning to a country or city is almost like coming home as that location becomes familiar, comfortable, and more hospitable every time I renew the connections that have bonded us.

So a few days ago I started thinking about Cusco, slipping into a South American frame of mind for the next tour I’m guiding to this Andean city, base camp for tackling Machu Picchu and hiking the Inca Trail. As I sat on my deck in the damp coastal cool of a North Carolina evening sipping a homemade Pisco Sour and watching the last of the season’s fireflies, I transported myself to Cusco’s dry high-altitude air. Instead of a line of sea pines near the beach, I saw the rugged cordillera and a hunter’s moon dappling Inca monoliths. And instead of a Carolina train whistle and the rock music of Brother Henry wannabes playing the beach bar down the road, I heard the haunting strains of quenas and the mellow chords of a Charango.

My bags were packed and my girlfriend, Myra, was bracing for my departure and my absence from home for the next few weeks. By midday Friday I’d finished a proposal for a new India tour, thinking I would be out of internet commission for the next few weeks, except for checking email. It was a beautiful fall afternoon, I’d been at my computer for hours, and I craved a bike ride down to Wrightsville Beach, one of my new favorite places in Wilmington.

Initially, everything was going well on the ride, and my mind was clear and calm, the way it is whenever I’m outside doing something physical (well, maybe not mowing the lawn or chasing down the mole tunneling through our back yard). I really did register the pickup truck with the equipment trailer in a driveway, but it wasn’t moving, so I glanced down at my bike’s computer to check my speed. 22 mph. Good. I was on the beach road with its bike lane and light shoulder-season traffic. A couple of fellow cyclists were no more than 100 yards behind me.

Then, a millisecond later, the truck moved and the trailer lurched directly in front of me. I had no chance to slow down. No chance to swerve. I hit the trailer at full speed, an impact that shattered my bike frame and sent me flying over the trailer’s sides in a forward trajectory of at least thirty feet. It landed me face first on the pavement. My helmet and the fact that the trailer was only waist high (so I flew over it rather than into it with the force of my momentum), saved me from death. Sprawled on the street with blood gushing from my broken nose, cut mouth, and facial gashes, I believed that I had just taken a spill and could scramble up, get my bearings, and remount my bike. Fortunately, one of the cyclists behind me was a neurosurgeon who took charge of the accident scene and kept me from trying this. Still, in my mind I was sure I could get up. I’m in shape, I thought. I’m leaving for Peru in a few days. No problem.

No way. I’m paraphrasing the ER doc, who (while he was calmly stitching my face) told me he’d been to Peru with a medical team traveling to remote villages and Indians who would otherwise never see a doctor. Bluntly, he explained I wouldn’t be going anywhere in my condition, certainly not to Peru. I have to admit he’s right. Aside from my other injuries, I look like I’ve been on the receiving end of a few roundhouse punches. It’s not a face to inspire confidence in a tour group coming to South America for the first time. As a fresh air junkie, I’ve experimented with various headgear to keep my battered face protected from the sun and have settled on a hokey, but utilitarian, cap from my last ultra after first trying out an Arab keffiyeh that made me look like Elephant Man and a favorite African safari hat that sat like a beanie on top of my swollen head.

My girlfriend may have to venture down to Cusco in my place – she’s fluent in Spanish and still has family down in Peru. Plus her face looks great, a lot better than mine even at its best. The vagaries of chance have turned her into an accidental tourist, but maybe that’s good, because she won’t have time to build apprehensions or develop preconceptions. She’ll just go with the experience as it is, letting it imprint her sensibilities where it will start creating the bonds that make a strange place familiar and the word “home” resonate the way it does for me.

White Nights

2011-10-02T18:15:00.000-07:00

The days are getting shorter here in Wilmington, North Carolina. After a summer of heat and humidity, the chill in the air feels strange -- even a little ominous, although there is no hard winter looming, not here anyway. Still, I feel a surge of my old Midwestern anxiety now that darkness descends without the ceremony of languorous Renaissance-tinted sunsets. The dusk that quickly bleeds lavender to indigo feels lonely, even a bit deathly. Already I miss (and romanticize) the insufferably hot summer days, my runs and bike rides done of necessity in primordial, pre-dawn mists or delayed until the evocative penumbra of late evening, summoning that old childhood feeling of timelessness that still makes me think I will live forever.

If saying goodbye to summer is hard for me, imagine what it must be like for people living in St. Petersburg, Russia, to let go of nearly three months of round-the-clock daylight, the famous and much celebrated White Nights. The winters in this city below the Arctic Circle are long and brutal – frozen rivers, bitter cold, a city held hostage by the underworld gods of snow, ice, and near darkness. But suffering is part of the Russian character, and from death and darkness come resurrection and light, the antipodal underpinnings of Christian faith and the theological turf of great Russian writers like Turgenev and Dostoevsky.

This summer, when I take my first tour group to Russia, we’ll be in St. Petersburg during the season of White Nights. Granted, we’ll see them in Moscow, too. But the striking quality of light in Peter the Great’s northern city is supremely beautiful, perhaps owing to the city’s breathtaking location on the Neva River and its fretwork of canals and islands crisscrossed by more than three hundred bridges, some centuries old. In part it is also due to the enduring apotheosis of the city’s architecture, inspired by Western Europe and yet distinctly Russian – icons like the old Winter Palace (now the Hermitage), the Mariinsky Theater (former home of the Kirov), and the Kazan Cathedral (modeled after St. Peter’s in Rome).

Imagine a nearly three-month-long White Nights party, with celebrations along the riverfront just steps away from the Drunk Bridge where his assassins finally tossed the bleeding Rasputin into the frigid Neva. Imagine concerts, plays, galas, and ballets blooming throughout the city like the banks of flowers along Nevsky Prospect and people strolling, laughing, eating and drinking under midnight skies the violet blue of early dusk.

Picture the Neva shot with the rich gold of a Fabergé egg, the river a watery traffic jam of pleasure and working boats making the most of the White Nights’ seemingly unending light. Imagine bars like The Idiot, decorated in Dostoevsky-era style, overflowing with boisterous patrons, both Russian (some from as far away as Siberia) and foreign. After knocking back shots of ice-cold vodka until the wee hours, they spill out onto the summer-bright sidewalks like college revelers on a semester-long spring break.

Visualize me in St. Petersburg holding a vodka tonic and a shisha, maybe tipsily admiring the illuminated draw bridges and rags of denim-colored clouds gathering around a sickle (minus the hammer) moon. Vodka or not, I’m thinking that even three centuries ago, Peter the Great had to know he was onto a good thing. I’m really looking forward to getting to his beloved city in time for the coming season of White Nights and a party I won't soon forget.

Remembering the Metropol

2011-09-24T05:54:00.000-07:00

I’ve always loved anything retro. That’s why I was delighted to find the old Hotel Metropol alive and well and living near Red Square. Unlike the completely rebuilt Hotel Moskva, the Metropol is still the real McCoy inside and out. Management claims there are no two rooms exactly alike. This may be a bit of hype, but there are certainly enough elegant appointments, enough antiques and art, to satisfy the fussiest classicist. Tolstoy and Rachmaninov once frequented the hotel in its prime. Today its renovated presence attracts celebrity guests like Pierre Cardin and Francis Ford Coppola.

But in the late Soviet sixties, when it was in precarious decline, my parents stayed there and fondly remember its shabby elegance (my mother dubbed it “haute bordello”). Along with chipped marble balustrades and frayed silk drapes, the hotel once flaunted a cavernous restaurant rife with gilded cupids and a Baroque mirrored wall reflecting more than a few party bosses tossing back shots of chilled vodka with their blinis and caviar.

My parents dined here one winter’s night, fascinated by a red-faced commissar at the next table, in the company of a pretty female comrade, both dressed to the nines in the latest European fashion, proof positive that there really was a floor in GUM just for the Communist elite. The same consumer privilege extended to expensive imported cars for the bosses while the common people – if they drove anything at all – tooled around in cheap Soviet-made Zaporozhets, nicknamed gorbatyi or “hunchback” because of their bug-like shape.

With his stubbly jowls and coarse manners, the commissar reminded my father of Sharik, the homeless mutt turned loutish human proletarian (via a surgical experiment) in Bulgakov’s black comedy, The Heart of a Dog, banned in 60's USSR. Before his ill-fated metamorphosis, Sharik wryly comments that there are forty thousand dogs in Moscow and bets there isn’t one of them so stupid he can’t spell the word “sausage.”

On the streets, the scruffy Sharik has survived by his wits and is a self-taught reader able to identify butcher and grocery shops by their letters and the particular colors of their storefronts. This makes me think of what I just read about Moscow’s so-called wild dogs. The strays (curiously, about the same number as in Bulgakov’s time) have evolved into distinct genres, one of which is beggar dogs, a canine intelligentsia whose Darwinian evolution is based on smarts, not strength.

Living on the outskirts of Moscow, these beggar dogs have learned to ride the metro, commuting downtown to where pickings are better and customers plentiful. They wait politely on the platforms, then board the trains, finding the quieter spots in the front and last cars, doing a little panhandling -- a paw on a child’s knee, a plaintive look to a young woman that says “Feed me” – while they count the city stops.

Then it’s off to the streets where they expertly choose their marks among crowds of Muscovites. They’ve learned to cross busy roads by watching pedestrians and differentiating signal colors. At the end of a hard day’s work, they hop on the metro and go home to their suburban refuges, sans briefcases and caffeine headaches.

Remind me to pack a couple of sausages in my pockets just in case a few beggar dogs corral me (clearly I spell "tourist") as I exit the Metropol on my way to visit the Bolshoi Theater. Or in case I’m riding the metro and a Sharik look-alike sits down next to me and starts to tell me his sad story.

Planning for Russia

2011-09-17T11:15:00.000-07:00

What’s to be done? From his prison in St. Petersburg, philosopher Nikolai Chernyshevsky asked his famous political question in the mid-nineteenth century. His interest was in reforming Russian radicalism and enlightening his backward country.

Mine is less weighty, but big for me, since I’m organizing a new group trip to Russia for this summer. White nights? Luckily the summer months will provide an abundance of them. But how do I translate modern Russia from its complex welter of history, art, and literature into a manageable language? Can centuries be compressed into eight or nine days? And will my group ever glimpse – if she still exists -- iconic Mother Russia?

I do what I’ve always done when I’m working things out in my head: I run. I plan to make a long loop down to the beach, up past the marshes of the coastal waterway, then back across town where the malls, fast food eateries, and car washes take me light years away from the Russia that my parents traveled to in the late 1960s, the formidable USSR.

They rode the Trans Siberian all the way from Irkutsk to what was then Leningrad. They dealt with the vagaries of Intourist (part national tourist bureau, part Kremlin-style watchdog), putting up with indoctrinated “Soviet” guides, bugged hotel rooms, and paper vouchers like Monopoly money because rubles were scarce.

“Go to the Caucasus,” my father tells me. The Black Sea he knew was a hot spot for Soviet factory workers on state-sponsored vacations. My mother still remembers the mountain crossing by train. The engine stopped unexpectedly one moonlit night to let an assembly of wolves pass while drunken soldiers on the train sang “Kalenka” and played their balalaikas – a scene straight out of Dr. Zhivago.

In Greek myth, the Caucasus were one of the pillars supporting the world, and it was here that Zeus bound and tortured Prometheus for eternity. Jason sailed the nearby Black Sea coast searching for the golden fleece; instead he found Medea. And the Caucasus happen to be one of the most culturally and linguistically diverse regions on earth. Done. I think I’ll take my travelers to Gobustan in Azerbaijan to see 10,000-year-old petrogplyhs. Then we'll go next door to tiny Armenia to see the beautiful Etchmiadzin Cathedral. We’ll see the Caspian and the Black Sea and cross back into Russia through Georgia, once a kingdom under the rule of Queen Tamar, a brilliant military strategist who repelled the Turks and made Georgia into a thirteenth-century Christian stronghold.

Then we’ll go ... A bell startles me, and a cyclist impatiently shoots around me, glaring like I'm some kind of annoying bug. All this thinking about Russia has slowed my pace to a crawl. But maybe that’s a good thing. I walk out to the end of an empty boat slip and look across the marshes, imagining the Peter and Paul Fortress in St. Petersburg where Chernyshevsky sat staring out his prison window at the Neva River below, thinking and then writing, “What’s to be done?”

2011-09-16T12:48:00.000-07:00

Matty and I at the NCARS 26.2 hour Adventure Race 8/28 near Table Rock mountain in North Carolina!

Africa summer of 2011

2011-08-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

I wanted to recap the summer of adventure that I had in Africa working with two of my best group clients and also share some of the great photos from our travels.

I lead my first group of 30 people on a 10 day Kenya safari highlighted with a visit to the Masai Mara during the annual Great Migration. Highlights included the hot air balloon ride over the Mara - Serengeti ecosystem, the dancing at the Carnivore and Simba saloon during our farewell dinner, and our great driver guides Peter, Hamisi, Abdi, Macharia, and Chris, who all went the extra mile to show us a great time. Thanks guys!

20 of the 30 people continued onto Egypt for a 4 night extension tour where we visited the Pyramids and some of the ancient Egypt sites on the first full day, visits to Alexandria, and also old Cairo in chronological order from a historical perspective. Highlights included the camel safari to a bbq dinner out in the desert, and the Nile rive cruise with whirling dervish performance and belly dancing show. Thanks to Mohamed and Sam for all their work.

I returned to Kenya again, with my dad as well to take another group client of mine on a safari program similar to the first one that also concluded in the Masai Mara for a Great Migration day with balloon safari and all day game drive. Chris, Macharia, Rueben, and William were wonderful guides.

Here are some photos from our trips:

The Inca Trail marathon 26.2 mile Race to Machu Picchu!

2011-02-20T12:03:00.000-08:00

Inca Trail marathon Race! Cusco, Peru

Announcing The Inca Trail Marathon Marathon 26.2 mile Race.

Complete tour: June 29th to July 8th, 2012 Trip overview: This multi-sport trip to Peru offers a wide range of different outdoor activities, cultural programs, and adventures. The highlight of the program will be a 26.2 mile marathon run along the Classic Inca Trail- the footpath the Incas used to travel between their capital in Cusco and the world famous citadel of Machu Picchu. This very demanding course takes the typical hiker 3 days, and ascends multiple mountain passes, reaching a maximum elevation of 13,800 feet. You will be treated to: breathtaking views of the Andes mountains, fascinating Inca ruins, thousands of feet of vertical change, and a photo finish in front of Machu Picchu- which is included in the New 7 Wonders of the World. Are you up to the challenge that the Inca trail Marathon presents!

Also well-suited for race spectators, this special hosted trip not only includes visits to Cusco and Machu Picchu, but also several famous locations nestled in the famous Sacred Valley of the Incas. Among other activities, you will have a chance to: interact with the local culture, try Peruvian cuisine, explore ancient ruins, pursue outdoor activities, explore glaciers, jungles, and other fantastic scenery in the Andes mountains, sample the fun nightlife, and visit local markets. This is a fully guided tour and our experienced guides will take you to the famous sites of Peru as well as to lesser known destinations, making this trip a truly memorable experience!

Peru 2010

2010-11-06T18:32:00.000-07:00

We have finished our 2010 trips to Peru and I thought I would share some writing that one of my passengers, Kate, has done about her trip in October. Its a great way to get a good feel for what a trip with Erik's Adventures to Peru is like and good information about Peru in general.

I thank her for writing it and sharing her work.

Her stories can be read on her blog at

Kates Blog

2010-09-06T22:02:00.000-07:00

Our new company website has launched. here are some of the new pages!!!!

eriks group adventure travel

eriks adventures singles travel and cruises to Peru, Costa Rica, safaris, hiking, multi-sport and sailing

wisconsin river spring green campground rental private for groups bachelor parties corporate retreats

peru travel info and trip planner inca trail hiking guided trip

peru singles travel machu picchu tour cusco vacation salkantay trek raftng urubamba river

Canada - Ontario and Quebec

2010-08-24T09:10:00.000-07:00

Recent pictures from a camping and canoeing trip in Ontario and Quebec. We traveled through Lake Superior Provincial Park to Mont Trembalnt National Park across the great Canadian Shield Landscapes of Central and Eastern Canada.

wisconsin camping fun

2010-07-27T09:09:00.000-07:00

Great weekend of adventures and camping in Wisconsin 7/23-7/25.
With mountain biking, running the hills, 4 wheeling, and cooking out, we had a blast. Weather was great, the river was pefect. I am glad everyone decided to come out and have some fun!

2010-04-27T05:33:00.000-07:00

Photos- near Chico's paradise, Los Arcos, Downtown PV. We did some diving at Los Arcos and Canyoneering in the river on the way to El Tuito.

Mexico Adventure Trip #2 4/9-4/16

2010-04-26T10:23:00.000-07:00

Back from Multi Sport Trip in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

Great diving pictures!

Mexico Adventure Trip

2010-02-18T16:24:00.001-08:00

We just got back from a multi-sport trip in the Huasteca region of Eastern Mexico.

photos are here:

argentina with Travis

2007-09-18T11:35:00.000-07:00

Hitchhiking across the Argentine Patagonia.

A loud clattering noise followed by the sound of a sputtering engine roused me from the middle of a dream, and for a moment I couldn’t tell if I was still dreaming or awake when my brother told me that our bus just broke down. As I regained my senses, I noticed we were pulled off to the side of a small gravel road at an awkward angle in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. Rocky hills and windswept plains as far as the eye could see. Brown and Grey dust swirled around outside and filtered in through the all the open windows on this hot summer day in early February. I could hear the bus driver mumbling curse words under his breath in Spanish as wiped his forehead of sweat with a dirty rag while fiddling around with the fuse box under the steering wheel.

In the very southern portion of Argentina lies a vast expanse of open steppe, semi arid desert, and mountains with glaciers and crystal clear lakes, that together make up the very large and sparsely populated region known as Patagonia. My younger brother Travis and I were backpacking from the southern tip of Argentina all the way up to the lake country around Bariloche some 2000 km to the north. We had departed earlier that morning from the small town of El Calafate, which is very close to the famous and incredibly beautiful Perito Moreno Glacier. We were still many uncomfortable and bumpy hours by bus from El Chalten, which is a frontier town at the base of the great peaks of Mt. Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre. These mountains are within the boundaries of Parque Nacional Los Glaciares, and are home to numerous trekking trails, mountain climbing adventures, and some of the world’s most difficult rock climbing routes. That was the next destination for Travis and I.

The peaks of Mt Fitz Roy. Southern Argentina.

Unfortunately for all of us there was no radio on the bus to signal the headquarters we were broke down, and anyone that had a cell phone didn’t get any service out in the remote region that we were stuck in. There might only be a couple of cars passing by over the course of the whole day. To make matters worse it was very hot out, the bus driver was not helpful, and some people did not have that much water with them. The next bus would be coming through in about 24 hours, which seemed like an eternity to wait. I thought to myself as the bus driver assured me we would all get on that bus, “Our bus was full, if the next bus is completely full, which is likely this time of year, then there is no way everyone is going to fit, so then what?” While my mind was busy calculating our odds and time frame for getting out of there, my thoughts were busy picturing 40 people swarming to board the next day’s bus as it pulled up completely full of people, with luggage piled high on the roof of one of the smaller old and beat up minibuses that the charter company uses, which probably was only meant to hold 25 people. It was at that point that I decided we opt for plan B.

In talking with some other passengers, I learned that there was a junction with another busier road some 20 miles ahead, where there was a decent chance to stop a car and catch a ride to somewhere. All the while Travis was pulling on my sleeve demanding to know what was being said since he didn’t speak Spanish, as I was desperately trying to keep up with the fast spoken and uniquely accented Argentine Spanish- far different than the Mexican Spanish I was used to speaking and hearing at home in Chicago. Plan B was put in effect- We were going to walk up to that intersection in hopes of stopping a car.

We gathered our belongings, made sure we had adequate water, and started off walking up the road, knowing we had daylight until about 1045pm and plenty of time to cover the distance before nightfall. As the heat beat down on us, we kept on walking, making pretty good time. We were being conservative with our water consumption and covered our heads with t-shirts turned into turban like headwear to avoid too much exposure to the burning sun. Finally, after about six long hours, dusty and sunburned, we made it to the intersection I was told about. I saw the other road was paved and cracked a smile at Travis as if somehow we had found a pot of gold.

Sun setting over the Patagonia

The real treasure was meeting Juan Alvarez and his family after I stood in the middle of the road, waving my arms in every direction, and practically forcing them to stop their old station wagon. They were from Buenos Aires on a long driving holiday and wound up driving us about 100 miles up the road, in the general direction we needed to go anyways! I got to speak with them and learn about their family and home, while Travis periodically tapped my shoulder to ask me what in the world we were talking about. They dropped us at a little wayside restaurant/motel before they turned off the main road heading north, since we were going to find our way east from this point. Travis told me he hadn’t been so hungry in all his life, and that the small empanadas he ate there was his best meal of the trip.

After collecting ourselves overnight at the wayside restaurant/motel Café Perez, named after the owner, good fortune struck again the next morning. This time in the form of an old German couple and one other man heading to El Chalten, driving what had to be the smallest car I had ever seen. It took me about a half and hour and the promise of some lager beers once we reached town to convince them Travis and I could squeeze in the back seat with our packs, and that the car wouldn’t bottom out all the time on these bumpy and poorly maintained roads with all our extra weight. After ten hours on very rough dirt roads, creeping along like a snail, packed in the back seat so tight that we practically lost all circulation in our legs, heavy packs sitting on our laps the whole time, and sweating to death- We finally arrived in El Chalten. I learned that the people left stranded on the bus made it in the day after us.

I look back at the route we took to get to El Chalten and it’s certainly not the easiest or most direct way, but instead one we will always remember. That experience helped to further solidify my bond with my younger brother, and we both look back on that incident and the whole trip as a wonderful experience we had together. Travis and I had just as much adventure getting to El Chalten’s famous mountains as we did camping and hiking in them.

By Erik Rasmussen

Please visit my website Erik’s Adventures (www.eriksadventures.com) or email me at erik@eriksadventures.com to learn about some of our trips, look at some great photos, or to ask any questions. Thanks

sailing the Dalmation coast

2007-09-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

Sailing The Dalmatian Coast in Croatia

About 10 years ago, when you mentioned the name Croatia to the casual traveler, you usually got one of two responses. The first was “I have never heard of it” and the seconds was “Isn’t that Yugoslavia, and in the middle of a dangerous war”. It is true that Croatia was once a part of the republic of Yugoslavia, from after the Allied victory in World War Two until the early 1990’s. It is also true that there was a bitter war fought there at the time the Iron Curtain was falling and communism was crumbling all throughout Eastern Europe and Russia. At that time Croatia’s tourism industry came to a near standstill as people stopped visiting this beautiful crescent shaped country and its marvelous coast in favor of more stable destinations. But times certainly have changed there because today Croatia is one of the hottest destinations anywhere, attracting millions of visitors from Europe and all over the world, while offering a multitude of great experiences. Featuring charming castles set in the forested hills in the north, sparking blue lakes and waterfalls such as those around Plitvice, to the cosmopolitan capital city of Zagreb; Croatia has amazing diversity and beauty despite its small physical size.

The Plitvice Lakes are a UNESCO World Heritage site.

The crown jewel of this country in my opinion is it’s very western portion that includes the coastline along the Adriatic Sea from the Island of Rab in the northwest and extending down past the southern UNESCO World Heritage City of Dubrovnik. This part of Croatia is commonly referred to as Dalmatia or the Dalmatian Coast. Dalmatia enjoys a Mediterranean climate and all the benefits that come with such pleasant weather. It begins with typical Mediterranean vegetation and agriculture- including olive groves, fig trees, small farms, herds of goats and sheep, rugged mountains with vineyards and rock walls built on them, old stone villages, crystal clear waters, great seafood and wine culture, small fishing communities, and of course abundant coastline. There are over 1000 islands- many of them uninhabited and right off the rugged coast. The area has also retained its unique culture and most of its old Byzantine architecture and medieval walled cities.

The dark blue is the portion of Croatia known as Dalmatia

It was in the northern part of this famous and historical region that I embarked on a 7-day boating adventure a few years ago with 24 friends aboard a beautiful handcrafted sailboat named the Moja Maja. We had a friendly and fun crew, a great captain named Tomislav, and very nice accommodations onboard. I knew right away we were in for a fun filled time. Our first full day at sea began by exploring the magnificent archipelago of Kornati, which is also a National Park. These idyllic and mostly deserted islands are perfect places to hop off for short hiking adventures, and jumping off rocks and small cliffs into the refreshing Adriatic.

Kornati Islands The Moja Maja

In the evenings aboard the ship, we were treated to tasty local wines and traditional Croatian dishes such as fresh seafood grilled to perfection by our cook Sonja. All the while all of us were able to sit up on the roof deck and watch the stars fill the sky while the cool night breeze brought in the pleasant smell of the sea. Our trip also took us south to other beautiful islands and coastal spots such as Hvar, Korcula, Mljet, and Dubrovnik- the furthest southern major town in Croatia. We were able to do so many exciting things on this trip such as exploring beautiful 1000 year-old walled cities, castles, and forts in the old coastal settlements of Hvar, Korcula, and Dubrovnik. We also snorkeled and kayaked the Adriatic through and around rocky points and sculpted cliffs near tiny, deserted islands with no name. On Mljet Island, part of which is a National Park, we hiked through beautiful pine forests, swam in freshwater rivers and visited a small castle on an island in a small lake that is situated on the western portion of Mljet Island. Most of us thought the idea of an island within an island was pretty extraordinary.

Island within the Island of Mljet.

View of the harbor from the castle on Hvar.

In addition to all these activities and sights, the nightlife in many of these little ports, especially Hvar was second to none. Our group had a fantastic and somewhat bleary-eyed time heading out to bars and clubs that usually were only a few minutes walk from where our boat was docked in the harbor. The majority of these are situated in old castles or beautiful buildings and offer dancing, drinking, and a festive and friendly atmosphere until well after the sun rises. In the Dalmatian port towns you must be careful to get out of the club by the time your boat is sailing in the morning! There is also nothing better than leaving the clubs then going for a dip in the Adriatic as the sun rises, and afterwards stopping into one of the local bakeries as they pull that day’s fresh bread and pastries out of the oven still piping hot, while the smell of the fresh baking overtakes your senses.

The patio at Carpe Diem club on the water in Hvar.

Having fun in the clubs!

We ended our trip in Dubrovnik, which is generally regarded as the most famous site along the Dalmatian coast and arguably in all of Croatia. This perfectly preserved walled city is a stunning piece of architecture, and its old cobbled streets are lined with cafes, restaurants and shops. Style and fashion are also a big deal in Dubrovnik. In the evening there are so many beautiful, well-dressed people strolling down these streets that you imagine yourself part a runway fashion show. On the architectural side of things, Dubrovnik’s high walls offer great views of the entire old city and all the orange tiled roofs that cover the old stone buildings bunched so close together inside the walls. There are plenty of narrow streets and corridors to explore for hours on end, nearby beaches, and great views of the sea and nearby islands from the top of the wall. On our last night my friends and I hit a little hole in the wall café and just admired the moon over the sea for hours while sipping on some Karlovacko Pivo’s (Croatian brand of Beer), and snacking on a stone oven cooked pizza loaded with veggies and fresh meats like cured ham and homemade salami.

Dubrovnik
The next morning we all had to say goodbye to this magical place and return to reality. That day I pledged to return here within a few years. Now I am keeping my promise by organizing another group to visit in the summer of 2008. Besides I still have to try one of the flaming drinks at the Carpe Diem club in Hvar when I get back!

Written By: Erik Rasmussen
Owner: Erik’s Adventures LLC. Our website is www.eriksadventures.com. To get more information on Croatia, other travel destinations, or to join a tour with us please contact me at erik@eriksadventures.com.

Sedona Arizona

2007-04-15T12:26:00.000-07:00

Sedona: An Arizona Masterpiece

Sedona is one of those truly special places that refresh my body and spirit every time I visit. Located about 95 miles straight north of Phoenix, Sedona sits at an elevation of roughly 4500 feet above sea level. The town has about 10,000 permanent residents and is geographically situated in Arizona's high desert under the towering southwestern rim of the vast Colorado Plateau. Directly to the north of town is spectacular Oak Creek Canyon, which has been cut deeper over millions of years by the sparkling waters of Oak Creek, leaving behind towering cliffs and pinnacles of red and white sandstone dotted with Ponderosa Pine and Juniper. To the south of Sedona is the Verde Valley and it’s open expanses of desert filled with Buttes, Mesas, and flanked by the Superstition Mountains toward the south.

Sedona itself is most famous for its amazing red rock formations that have taken names such as Belle Rock, Courthouse Butte, Cathedral Rock, and Devils Tower. These amazing formations are the result of millions of years of erosion and weathering that have left behind a landscape that truly amazes. In many of the formations you can see the different layers and colors represented as horizontal bands in the rock that were originally deposits of sediment underneath an ancient ocean eons ago. As this sediment piled up in layers, the weight of the top layers in combination with pressure and heat formed sedimentary rocks which lay hidden under the earth’s surface until exposed once again by forces or water and wind millions of years later. Today’s unique landscape is a result of this process of erosion.

Sedona is blessed with a beautiful climate that includes warm summers, mild winters, and lots of sunshine. Unlike the Phoenix area, Sedona is spared from the extreme heat because of its elevation, which leaves its summer temperatures dry and in the 90’s. Winters may see occasional snowfall, crisp and frosty nights, and cooler but pleasant and sunny days. There are four distinct seasons with the fall colors usually peaking in November. Along the creek, the deciduous trees form part of what is known as a riparian community which is characterized by cottonwoods and other water dependent species that shimmer brilliant shades of orange and yellow as the transition between summer and winter takes place.

Sedona is great for the visitor in all four seasons but sees most of its tourist traffic between March and October. The natural beauty of the area enhances activities like championship golf and scenic drives. The surrounding Coconino National Forest and Red Rocks Wilderness areas have large numbers of hiking trails for all ability levels, and in addition offer great backcountry camping and exploration. Off-road adventures in Jeeps, mountain biking, picnicking, and visiting ancient ruins and Native American cultural sights are other intriguing options for the outdoor enthusiast.

For those who prefer to be pampered and simply “see” the beautiful landscapes, Sedona offers an abundance of 4 star accommodations, exclusive spa resorts, a lively and diverse culinary scene, and a fast growing and prominent art scene. Wither it’s browsing boutique shops or galleries, having coffee at a local café looking out at 20 mile vistas, or doing a week long camping trip out in the backcountry, Sedona has something for just about everyone.

My perfect day in Sedona starts with a fresh cup of coffee at Ravenheart Cafe while sitting out on their deck overlooking Oak Creek and Cathedral Rock. After coffee, it is up to the Chapel of the Holy Cross to light a candle, and have a quiet moment to reflect. A good day hike up Jack’s Canyon or Wilson Mountain always challenges me to the fullest. After dinner, I enjoy relaxing at the Junepine resort, nestled half way up Oak Creek Canyon, listening to the waters of Oak Creek rush relentlessly over boulders and rocks. All the while I also hear the crackling of pine logs, and the sweet smell of cedar coming from my fireplace. The final ingredient to make all of these activities truly memorable is to be in the company of my mother and sister, who both also share a special place in their hearts for the magic of Sedona. We have been coming out for years together to spend time together as a family while feeling connected to a place that the three of us in many ways consider a second home.

By Erik Rasmussen
www.eriksadventures.com

A Perfect Day in New Zealand!

2007-03-29T00:33:00.000-07:00

A perfect summer day in Queenstown

The South Island of New Zealand is one of those very select places whose beauty is indescribable with words. Anyone who has watched the Lord of the Rings movies has been exposed to New Zealand’s amazing and exotic landscapes, ever since film director and native Kiwi (the name New Zealander’s call themselves) Peter Jackson shot the movies in his home country.

New Zealand was one of the very last places on earth to be inhabited by people, discovered by tribes that originated from the Polynesian Islands. These people, the Maori, settled on both Islands about 1000 years ago, and still have an important presence today both in terms of population and culture. Most of the country looks the same as it did when the Maori first arrived because New Zealand has been very good about protecting their natural resources and environment through a great park system and a dedication to conservation. A perfect place to begin exploring this majestic wonderland is in the city of Queenstown, the self proclaimed “adventure capital of the world”.

Located in the South-East portion of the South Island, this surprisingly cosmopolitan and stylish city of 20,000 people, sits along the shores of crystal clear Lake Wakatipu. Across the lake, towering high above the city is The Remarkables mountain range. Queenstown’s downtown area is compact, easy to get around, and offers a great blend of relaxation and fun with its numerous restaurants, designer shopping, and exciting nightlife. Queenstown’s surrounding environment is awe inspiring and almost unbelievable. A great way to get a feel for the whole area is to hike up or catch the gondola up Bob’s Peak, where the views are spectacular.

It was on a hike up Bob’s Peak on a Friday afternoon in January (one of New Zealand’s summer months) several years ago to catch the sunset, where I first saw Sabrina, an energetic and attractive young teacher on holiday from Canada. We met on the walking trail and struck up a conversation as we traversed steep switchbacks on the way to the summit, both opting for the trail up to the top instead of the gondola ride. Once we reached the summit, we both enjoyed a hard earned pint of Steinlager beer (one of New Zealand’s national brews), while watching the sun sink below the peaks of The Remarkables across the way, sending beams of light bouncing off Lake Wakatipu’s royal blue waters. Sabrina and I hit it off. We had so much in common, and were both traveling alone in Queenstown; so we decided to pair up for the next couple of days.

Following the gondola ride down the mountain, and after freshening up in our respective hotels, Sabrina and I met out for dinner at an adorable outdoor venue right downtown. New Zealand is well known for having 12 times as many sheep than people living there. Not surprising is that lamb is a favorite Kiwi dish. Extremely fresh, tender, and very affordable, the lamb entrees we ordered exceeded our expectations. After a delightful meal, topped off by sampling some quality wines that came from the increasing number of local vineyards popping up in the area, we decided to see if Queenstown’s nightlife was as thrilling as advertised.

After visiting an assortment of pubs and clubs, trying our luck in a small casino, drinking and dancing until the early hours of the morning; we both concluded that Queenstown’s nightlife was amazing. The locals were all so friendly and all the other tourists and travelers were just soaking up the positive vibe that the city seems to send out at all times. Sabrina and I were having such a good time, and I realized that this wasn’t all a dream, it was real. She was real, and she was amazing. I felt a special connection to her, fueled in part by the great energy and beauty of Queenstown.

The night was almost over, but there was still time for just the two of us to stroll down to the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Completely alone, we sat together holding hands on a small sandy beach and watched the stars flicker in the sky. Suddenly the first signs of dawn began to light up the water and mountains around us with incredible blue and pink colors, so soft and always changing. It was at that moment that time was irrelevant, and I felt completely peaceful. As the sun peaked out from the horizon, Sabrina fell asleep in my arms, as my body tingled and my soul smiled. I will never forget that experience, and I always have had a special place in my heart for Sabrina and Queenstown.

By Erik Rasmussen, owner of Erik’s Adventures LLC Travel and Tour Company, world traveler, and outdoor enthusiast. To contact me please visit www.eriksadventures.com, or email me at erik@eriksadvenures.com. Thanks

Desert Safari- Thar Desert, India

2007-03-29T00:22:00.000-07:00

Exploring the Thar Desert in Northwest India

It was May 2006, the middle of the hot season a month or more before the Monsoons would arrive. Most travelers were up at hill stations like Simla and Darjeeling, far away to the north and east, in the mountains where they could stay cool. For me, the blistering sun and temperatures over 113 degrees greeted me the moment I stepped off the train in Jaisalmer, a small outpost located in the far eastern portion of the Indian state of Rajasthan. Jaisalmer is located a little more than 50 miles from the boarder with Pakistan, and is affectionately known as the golden city after the distinct golden color of the rocks mined in the surrounding desert and used in the construction of the town. I had traveled over 24 painful hours in steerage class on the Indian railway system, in order to be able to venture out into the more remote reaches of The Great Indian Desert also known as the Thar Desert. My plan was to accomplish this on a camel safari.

Before departing, I spent a day in town to recover from the overnight train ride, and get the safari organized. In Jaisalmer there are many people who want to sell you a safari, and it is easy to get ripped off, or even loose all your money to a “phantom” outfitter, who takes your cash and never shows up for the tour. The best thing to do is go off a recommendation from someone who has had a good experience, or visit an actual tourist office. The guys out in the street trying to pitch you are probably the worst way to get a camel safari organized. I went off advice given to me by some travelers from Sweden I had met a few weeks earlier up in Dharmasala, the home to the exiled Dalai Lama. So, when I first met Anil and sensed he was trustworthy, I knew I had arrived at the right place.

Anil was my guide for a four day camel safari, and he was honest, hardworking, and much to my delight- a very good cook. With three people in our party, three camels, supplies, and over 60 liters of bottled water, we got an early start from a location about 25 miles from Jaisalmer town, where the road ends and the sand begins! The safari turned out to exceed my expectations of an outdoor experience, and there was a real sense of adventure that came with the trip. Our little caravan wound through beautiful desert landscapes and traversed ridges and valleys that switched back and forth between rocky “moonscapes” with sparse vegetation to tall sand dunes and windswept barren plains. On infrequent occasions we would come upon small nomadic settlements consisting of a few dried mud houses, a few goats, perhaps a well, and not much more. The people that lived in these little hamlets were curious about our undertaking and at times followed us for over a mile as we proceeded on. Dressed in long white garments and colorful turbans, nomads herding small groups of scraggly, under nourished goats dotted the landscape from time to time as well. I always wondered to myself how far those men walked each day, and how they put up with the scalding heat carrying no more than a liter of water or even no water at all!

Morning was always a sandy affair, dusting off, changing, and loading up the gear on the camels after a hearty breakfast and a fresh chai cooked over an open fire by Anil. Daytime temperatures typically would get up to 115 degrees or more in the shade. Attempting to combat the heat in the middle of the day was accomplished by trying finding some sliver of shade and doing little more than sitting for a few hours, drinking lots of water, and waiting for the sun to dip a bit lower on the horizon to provide some relief. Late afternoons were usually spent trying to cover some distance to our evening camp either on camel back or on foot out in front of the animals. The nights actually got pleasant when the breeze blew, and sleeping out on a sand dune with nothing but a blanket set out on the sand was one of the most enjoyable aspects of this adventure. Gazing up at the millions of stars that lit up the desert sky each night was a truly intoxicating experience. A small cup of Indian chai made with goats milk, fresh homemade chapatti bread, and curried veggies made the whole thing uniquely Indian.

Some of the things that truly made an impact on me during this trip were sitting by a cooking fire sipping chai with a friendly nomad that wandered over by us who only had one eye. Since we couldn’t speak to each other because my Hindi language skills were close to non existent, we just sat there, contemplated the desert and enjoyed the chai. Another dramatic moment was getting stuck in a pretty heavy sandstorm which completely buried most of our gear, sent the camels running away, kept us up all night, and left me with sand in every conceivable spot imaginable. Getting to know Anil, who shared many stories about his life and experiences out in the desert, and having my hips so sore from sitting on my camel for such a long time were some of the other highlights that rounded out this camel safari.

I often think to myself, I went through all these hardships and discomforts for only about ten dollars a day! In reality, the camel safari was a great way to get intimate with this harsh and remote landscape, while seeing a unique culture of India that hasn’t change much in hundreds of years.

By: Erik Rasmussen
Erik’s Adventures LLC

Canoeing and Camping on the Lower Wisconsin River

2006-12-28T11:00:00.000-08:00

Only 3 to 3 1/2 hours from Chicago, 4 hours from the Twin Cities, and 2 hours from Milwaukee by car, the Wisconsin River meanders south through the center of Wisconsin. Thirty miles north of Madison at Sauk City, the river veers more towards the west on it’s way tojoining the Mississippi near Prairie du Chien. South of Sauk City the river is very wide in most places and in the summer is dotted with many islands. The river has many shifting sandbars and shallow spots as well as deep drop-offs. The down river shores on most of the islands contain long sandbars. The sandbars offer nice places to stop and swim on a hot day, picnic, fish, or camp for the evening. The State River System extends 95 miles from Sauk City to the confluence with the Mississippi River near Prairie du Chien and encompasses 79,275 acres of Southwestern Wisconsin. In the heart of this area is beautiful Spring Green. The river corridor protects bluffs, bottomland forests, backwaters, and 98 of Wisconsin’s 147 fish species.

At Prairie du Sac and Sauk City the hydroelectric dam built in 1914 holds back the natural flow of the Wisconsin River and creates Lake Wisconsin. Below that point, the river breaks from man-made barriers and winds its way uninhibited for 95 miles to the Mississippi. The natural beauty of islands, sandbars, woods, and bluffs gives an impression of unspoiled nature to the uncritical eye, and for the history-minded calls up thoughts of Marquette and Joliet. Remarkably free from commercial and residential use, the river attracts an estimated 400,000 people a year who find it a recreational paradise. Thousands of people visit the Lower Wisconsin State Riverway each year for the expressed purpose of canoeing. The river is broad and relatively shallow with numerous sand bars and islands available for breaks from paddling. The sand bars also are used as overnight camp sites. There are recreational use restrictions in the Riverway which are strictly enforced. Glass containers are prohibited on the river and all state owned lands. Each canoe or boat must have a waterproof refuse container for garbage. This may be a plastic garbage bag, cooler or other similar device. All garbage carried in must be carried out.

Some canoe routes are as follows- Sauk City to Arena (about 15 miles) 5-7 hours of paddling; Sauk City to Spring Green (about 25 miles) 10-12 hours paddling; Spring Green to Lone Rock (about 8 miles) 3 hours of paddling; Arena to Lone Rock (about 20 miles) 8-10 hours of paddling, andArena to Muscoda (about 32 miles)2 day trip. Actual times may vary according to river conditions and how fast you canoe, as well as how many stops you make.

Animals that live in this habitat are great blue heron, bald and golden eagles, sand hill cranes, deer, and an abundance of small river mammals including otter and beaver. There are also numerous turtles which are usually sitting on logs sticking out of the water catching some sun. Plant life that can be found in this area varies. The forest in the River Valley is largely a deciduous type, with occasional pine trees dotting some of the bluffs. Islands can have grasses, shrubs and woodland plant growth. Sandbars are normally largely clear of any significant growth. The majority of the river is sand bottom as well.

For more information visit www.eriksadventures.com

Exploring the Canadian Wilderness by Canoe

2006-12-11T15:40:00.000-08:00

A large portion of Canada’s landscape is made up of endless expanses of evergreen forests, shimmering lakes, and large areas of exposed rock that are some of the oldest rocks on the entire planet (over 3 billion years old in places). This geographical region is known as the Canadian Shield. The characteristics that define this landscape are largely the result of the last period of glacial activity known as the Pleistocene Epoch. This is commonly referred to as the last “Ice Age” which ended less than ten thousand years ago. The huge sheets of ice scraped the land clean, exposing ancient rock and leaving very little soil behind. This, along with long cold winters and short cool summers favors the growth of evergreen or Boreal forest, which blankets this region. In addition, receding glaciers and large chunks of ice left to melt; filled depressions and formed the countless lakes that dominate Shield country. It is estimated that in Ontario alone there are over one million lakes!

One of the most rewarding ways to explore this largely undeveloped area is by canoe. The Canadian government has created many large wilderness parks that protect vast tracks of this unique ecosystem. One of the nicest is Woodland Caribou Provincial Park in Northwest Ontario. It is about 5-6 hours north International Falls, which lies along the Minnesota/Ontario border. With an appetite for exploration and solitude, along with the proper gear and planning, one can set out from one of the park’s entry points and venture into this wilderness from anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. With over a thousand miles of canoe routes, there is plenty to see and do. The fishing is incredible, there are ancient pictographs and petroglyphs, tall rocky cliffs, an abundance of wildlife (including moose, black bear, beaver, and eagles), beautiful sunrises and sunsets, the Northern lights (on occasion), and more. By paddling across lakes and portaging between them (carrying your gear and canoe along a trail, often only a few hundred yards or less, until you get to the next lake) you can traverse through the park, while stopping to camp on flat rocks or a bed of soft moss alongside a stream.
For anyone who enjoys the outdoors and is looking for an active summertime adventure, an experience like this is a must! If you enjoy backcountry camping, cooking over a campfire, and paddling a canoe, you will certainly be rewarded by a trip into the Canadian Shield’s canoe country, which Woodland Caribou Provincial Park is a part of. In planning a trip like this it is important to remember that this is wilderness camping- these parks are in very remote locations with no services. There is some important planning and experience necessary to insure a safe and enjoyable trip if you are going to venture on you own without a guide. A guided excursion is great for a beginner because they can enjoy the experience and leave details such as navigation, acquiring the proper gear, preparing camp food, etc. to someone else. In addition you will receive a great deal of information about proper backcountry camping procedures, have someone trained in first aid and safety procedures with you, and get explanations on local flora, fauna, and history of the area.

Cusco, Peru- Capital of the Incas and much more!

2006-11-02T22:07:00.000-08:00

Almost everyone has a recollection of a high school world history class and the lesson on the great Inca Empire that stretched down the west coast of South America in the 16th century until the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors. Fewer people know that in the high Andean mountain and plateau region of southeast Peru, the city of Cusco was the political, religious, and commercial center of the vast Inca Empire. Still fewer realize that in addition to being packed with historical sites and famous archaeological monuments; Cusco has a nightlife, bar, and restaurant scene that is as intense and diverse as its history.

Almost every visitor to the region heads up to the spectacular ruins at Machu Picchu, the world famous “lost city” of the Incas. In addition there are spectacular ruins at Pisac, Ollantaytambo, and other locations in the picturesque Sacred Valley. The architecture in the main square of Cusco, or Plaza de Armas (as all main squares are called in Peru), is all stunning Spanish colonial work done in brick. For those interested in culture, one only need visit the Plaza de Armas on a Sunday and venture into the Cathedral to view a Sunday mass, or catch one of the colorful parades that begins there and eventually heads down winding brick side streets.

Heading down those same side streets in the evening will bring you face to face with young touts in the streets attempting to sell you on the virtues of their particular evening establishment, whether it be a Peruvian seafood restaurant, night club, disco, or bar. Those who enjoy late nights must be careful not to miss their early morning tour departures into the mountains the following day since the clubs are open basically all night every night of the week. For those who want to do an evening on the town “Peruvian style”, start with a piece of fresh “trucha” (trout) with a “sopa a la minuta” (soup with noodles, veggies, meat, spices) at a local (not tourist) restaurant. Afterwards, head out for a Pisco sour or a Cusquena beer at a local bar, and finish it off dancing to salsa and listening to live music (in Spanish) at one of the nightclubs.

In short, Peru offers a wide array of opportunities for exploration and enjoyment. Cusco is probably one of the best places in Peru to capture the entire spectrum of that experience. Just take it easy the first night on the dance floor since Cusco is at 11,000 feet above sea level!

For more information on this type of trip- including pictures, Peru in general, or other adventures around the world, check out www.eriksadventures.com, or write me at erik@eriksadventures.com.

Taming the Masai Mara: Kenya’s showpiece game reserve

2006-10-03T13:06:00.000-07:00

No trip to Kenya would be complete without a visit to the Masai Mara, a 585 square mile wildlife preserve located in southwest Kenya, right above the boarder with Tanzania. In the Mara, one will find one of the highest concentrations of large game anywhere on earth. With an elevation of roughly a mile above sea level, the park enjoys a fairly mild climate for being just south of the equator. Here, the seasons are defined as wet and dry rather than summer and winter. The vast expanses of open grasslands and savannahs, dotted with an occasional acacia tree, and bisected by small streams and rivers, provide an ideal ecosystem for the great variations in species and vast herds of animals found here. Large concentrations of big game including Lion, Leopard, Cheetah, Elephant, Giraffe, Water Buffalo, Wildebeest, Zebra, and Gazelle call the Masai Mara home. This is in addition to numerous bird and small mammal species.

Established in 1961, The Masai Mara takes its name from the Masai people that have inhabited this part of Kenya for centuries, and continue to live on the surrounding lands. The park truly represents the classical African landscape that so many have idealized in their minds in part from movies like Out of Africa. With far-reaching vistas that seem to stretch on forever, along with the rolling hills shaded in beautiful greens and yellows by the long grasses, it really is an inspiring place to be.

One may think that you must hike into the wilderness with a tent and sleep side by side with wild animals to be able to experience this remote area, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Although getting there by car is a long trip (6 hours from Nairobi, Kenya’s capital) because the roads are generally in very poor condition and in places consist of no more than a dirt track; there are many outfitters that will take you into the park in a fully equipped Land Rover or other specialty vehicle. You can also fly directly from Nairobi to the park. Once inside, the Kenyan tourist industry has constructed a number of modern safari lodges. These range from pretty basic camps to extremely upscale resorts- offering everything you could find in a four star hotel in a major city or resort.

The idea of coming in from a day of game drives and guided wildlife viewing to be treated to top end international cuisine, heated pools, spa treatments, and fine wine is what makes the African safari such an appealing experience to many. In my last guided trip to Kenya, my clients were amazed at how nice the resorts were for being so far off the beaten path. They appreciated how the architecture fit perfectly within the beautiful natural surroundings, how well maintained the grounds were, and by the level of service they received. This is what dispelled their preconceived notion that you had to be an outdoor adventurer and rough it to participate on an African Safari.

In short, visiting the Masai Mara game reserve is a must do for any traveler to Kenya, and there are many different options available depending on your needs and budget in which to do so. My company, Eriks Adventures (www.eriksadventures.com), leads trips like this to Kenya as well as other locations around the world. You are welcome to email me at erik@eriksadventures.com for more information about Kenya or other questions in general.

Kenya- Constant Gardener

2006-09-21T10:33:00.000-07:00

For anyone who has been to Nairobi and or other parts of Kenya and hasn't seen The Constant Gardener. There is great footage of Nairobi and Kenya in general. Its worth checking out. There are also some villages in the movie that are just like ones I saw with my group in June

eriks adventures - recent trips lead by erik rasmussen

2006-09-18T13:03:00.000-07:00

My name is Erik Rasmussen and my company Erik's Adventures www.eriksadventures.com recently took 24 people to Kenya. We visited the Masai Mara, Samburu, and Lake Nakuru regions of Kenya and saw an incredible amount of wildlife over the 10 days that we were there.

I run trips such as this and other international and domestic outings geared towards singles and groups all year round. These can be easily seen at www.eriksadventures.com

I will periodically update this post with travel tips and comments as well as information on exciting destinations and travel deals I come across.

thanks,

Erik Rasmussen