I walk upright and could tease a termite out of a mound with just one stick. I’m an educated man – I’ve read stuff – and what not. And after skiing in the Lake Tahoe area for almost 10 years, crisscrossing and crossing the entire Sierra Nevada chain, and making repeated trips to Utah and Park City for 6 years running, one would think I possess a certain amount of reason when it comes to venturing out in the backcountry. But apparently that is not the case. However, before you judge me hear me out.

I live in Florida now, and I’m also a new father. The amount of ski days I got this year can be counted on one hand. So, to say I was chomping at the bit when I got to Park City last week would be an understatement. 17-inches of new snow did little to abate my excitement.

Powder Between Friends

What could be better than having nothing to do but rip endless fields of powder with good friends? Nothing. Except for here’s the problem: Occasionally, I like to earn my turns, and none of my friends on this trip wanted to hike. Furthermore, not a single one of them owns any backcountry gear. Okay, I guess I’ll simply stay in bounds and enjoy what the ski resort has to offer. But…but…look at all that untracked POW!!! Taunting me like Christmas candy and piles of cash shoved in to a well in the midst of a dry, scorching dessert. I resisted the first day…and the second.

Up until then I’d politely followed the group, accommodated late starts, pursued whims, and endured long lunches. And it didn’t really matter because Park City Mountain Resort continually served up runs of untracked powder on fun, steep terrain. One can happily ski the Jupiter and McConkey’s bowls all day long until it occurs to them that there is so much more hiding in Thaynes, King Con, or even Bonanza.

But when it came to the third day I was ready for something off-piste. Our group had made the short trip over to The Canyons Resort, and I could see many of the classic backcountry runs the ski resort is known for slowly but surely being marred by unencumbered skiers and snowboarders. I could not idly ski by any longer. So when Ninety-Nine 90 dropped us off for the third time that day, I politely waved to my party and said that I would see them at Peak 5.

The Draw of the Dutch

I quickly made my way up and out along the skier’s right ridge, stopping only for a moment at Dutch’s notch to kick out of my skis again. I began hiking up to the far peak where the snow was the most preserved, and I was at the top in no time. I took note of the fact that I was not alone, which made me feel a little safer. It was a false sense of security, however, because the beacon I was carrying offered little assurance that anyone else on the peak had one, let alone a shovel, probe, or concern for my well-being. But my run was just what we all dream of with shots of powder intermittently blinding me before arcing in to the next turn. I got down to Peak 5 and immediately decided that I would take another backcountry run – alone.

Peak 5 Slide

With great intention, I pulled the gate open at the back of Peak 5 and began hiking up the ridge. The snow was deeper than I expected and the going was slow. I felt low on energy and decided I would cut out early, catch my friends at lunch, and come back refreshed and hopefully with a companion. I was unfamiliar with my exact surroundings, but having skied along this ridge many times in past years, I nonchalantly began ripping down through the trees. I could see a substantial rise approaching, so I threw in a hard edge and abruptly stopped to get a closer look. This action immediately set off a small slide to my left and below, and while seemingly insignificant by the looks of the photos, it would have carried me over a series of rock shelves and down in to a grove of trees – alone.

Click Here to View Larger	Click Here to View Larger

I shook this whole occurrence off quickly, traversed around the rocks, and went off to meet my friends only after enjoying a few more precious powder turns. Now here’s where it just gets plain dumb.

Not only do I know how Utah’s light snow can be, and often is, lethal, but I had just seen proof it was unstable on the very same day. But what do I proceed to go and do? Convince my friends, who are novices when it comes to the backcountry and avalanche conditions, to go and do a hike with me off the back of Peak 5. Nice!

Three of us did the hike, this time dropping the large open bowl to skier’s right. Fortunately, nothing bad happened. The run was in fact fantastic, and it was made even sweeter when we just barely caught the last lift out of there right at 4pm on the nose. But a conversation later transpired between me and one of my best childhood friends that has stuck with me ever since.  He asked,

“How would you get out of an avalanche?”

Avalanche Safety

Really, there are no easier answers to this question; in fact, more experts die in avalanches than any other group. The best course of action is avoidance through the proper study of snow conditions. This means taking in to account no less than the amount of recent snowfall, layers, temperature, aspect, and degree of slope. After evaluating these factors, you of course want to make sure everyone in your party is equipped with a beacon, probe, shovel, and knowledge of how to use each one of them. Even then there are inherent risks, as well as weaknesses. For example, plastic shovels are pathetic in comparison to metal blades, for the snow can be extremely difficult to dig through. Regarding beacons, I can remember besting a Squaw Valley Ski Patroller during an avalanche training course only because I had a more modern beacon. His transceiver beeped directions to the hidden victim, but my digital version literally pointed the way.

If you get caught in an avalanche you must try to stay on the surface by using a backwards swimming motion. I have a friend who pulled this one off when he slid from top to bottom in the Chutes at Mount Rose Ski Resort. He was lucky enough to have part of his face and arm sticking out when he finally came to rest, but he still had to be dug out of the binding snow. In most cases, however, the slide victim is not so lucky. Some are smashed in to trees and rocks and immediately die from the resulting trauma. Others are literally ground in to a bloody mass from lacerations and the mashing of heavy pieces of ice. None of it is pretty. As I explained all of this to my friend he said, “I’m to old for this shit – I’ve got kids!”  As if waking from a pervasive fog I thought to myself, so do I.

Choosing Your Line

It is here at this point that you are possibly expecting me to say, I’ll never go out in the backcountry again. But that is not likely. What I will say is that I will always strive to ski with a buddy, choose the safest slopes possible, pack extra backcountry gear, or rent it, and always be clear with myself and any accomplices on the inherent dangers involved. Keep in mind what a rather poignant Summit County Sheriff once said, ”If you’re an adult and you want to go and risk your life, it’s your business…We just have to clean up the mess.” 

Trust me, I want to avoid the mess as much as the next sane person. I used to debate with a good friend about the dangers of outdoor sports, and he would argue that a person was more likely to be killed in a car accident. I would disagree. I was still disagreeing when an earthquake dislodged a boulder on to a highway that almost killed me. My car was totaled and I was lucky to walk away from it. It pains me to think I could have died riding a proverbial groomer.

Our lines in life are rarely clean, but they are certainly made better by applying the knowledge, skills, and patience we do have. These are the attributes we need to take our pursuits out of bounds and push the limits, and still make it back to the parking lot to take our boots off when the day is done.

New York

The great thing about Gotham City is that you are guaranteed to experience something new even if you’re revisiting a familiar spot. Fortunately on this trip, I had the chance to retrace some steps as well as draw upon local friends (1 & 2) for new experiences. Of course, there are so many different things to do in this grand city, so I’m not going to detail the whole excursion. You know how to get to the Empire State Building, right? But here are few highlights:

First off, if you get a chance to see the Tim Burton exhibit at the MoMA you will be amazed at his mastery over multiple mediums. His artistic ability is more diverse than you would ever guess. It is not only wonderful to see the progression in Tim Burton’s career, but also peek inside his pernicious imagination. There is always something new to absorb at the MoMA, so it is worth a trip, every trip. And take the time to do the audio guide. If you are looking to conserve that cash then consider Target Free Friday Nights sponsored by Target.

Speaking of free, a trip to New York is not complete without a stroll through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and if you hit it on the first weekend of the month – AND you are a Bank of America customer – you save $20. That’s money you can spend on lunch at E.A.T. If you’ve never seen a grilled cheese that cost $14 then here is the place. But you guessed it, the food is good.

If you want some free cheese and find yourself near Bryant Park, you might want to drop down to the Cellar Bar in the bottom of The Bryant Park Hotel. Whether your order the Passion, Orgasm, or some other less scintillating drink, you’ll get some small appetizers gratis. The Cellar is a pretty cool space for drinking and getting served by scantily clad gothic waitresses.

Sex isn’t only used to sling drinks in New York. The Standard Hotel, Polshek’s new creation located in the old Meatpacking District, took a rather interesting approach, not only in its design, but the marketing of its decidedly nonstandard rooms. Here’s one advertisement before they fully completed the building:

If you find yourself in the Meatpacking District, check out the The High Line, which is an elevated walkway running through the West Side neighborhoods. The path used to act as a rail line bringing meat and supplies to the local warehouses and stores. Now it serves as a park with stunning views of the city juxtaposed to an integrated landscape featuring natural plants and grasses. The design was a collaborative effort between landscape architecture and urban design firm James Corner Field Operations, and architecture firm Diller Scofidio + Renfro. There is much to see and you just never know what might leap out at you.

Before leaving the Meatpacking District behind, grab a burger at the Corner Bistro if you are hungry, or step inside the Chelsea Market and enjoy a delicious cappuccino at the Ninth Street Espresso.

Brooklyn

I must admit I’ve never really checked out Brooklyn, but this time was different, and to say I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. With beautiful brownstone neighborhoods like Park Slope, entertainment venues such as the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM), and even Prospect Park where, believe it or not, more than one tree co-habits, there is no wonder why so many young professionals call it home. There’s even good surfing at Rockaway Beach just 15 minutes away, and getting to and from Manhattan on the subway is generally smooth sailing. Oh, and then there are the restaurants.

Unlike New York, chefs in Brooklyn can literally afford to go out on their own and be more experimental. There are many fabulous eateries to choose from, but on this trip we followed up on a tip from a local “foodie” who sent us to No. 7. Everything was delicious. I had the Grilled Wagyu Bavette Steak, which was out-of-control good. Who would have thought blueberries and steak go together so well?

Walking off all these consumptive habits is an absolute requirement. I tromped and tromped, and Brooklyn was no exception. Starting from Park Slope, a great stroll unfolded through Carroll Gardens, out on to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, and down to DUMBO (down under manhattan bridge overpass) for a Bloody at Bubby’s. All along the way are beautiful vistas of the Manhattan skyline, Governor’s Island, and the East River. New York’s green initiatives are being seen and felt all around, and it will be great to return when the new park out on the piers below the Promenade is completed.

So all is good in Gotham. The most intimidating and liberating city around still serves up the most beautiful and inspiring architecture, art, food, people, and places that could capitalize a lifetime. Sort of like this book, which is definitely on my reading list. There should be a few more discoveries to be had in New York by the time I am done reading it. At the very least I should take a paddle.

One’s Personal Perspective

Costa Rica is an eco-tourist’s dream. An abundance of flora and fauna, beautiful beaches, and big mountains make this country equally appealing to both naturalists and recreationalists alike. You can surf, fish, hike, rappel waterfalls, fly through the treetops on zip lines, race horses on the beach, and witness more wildlife than you ever thought existed.

However, the one characteristic of Costa Rica that is lacking, especially to those familiar with such destinations as Mexico, Peru, the Caribbean, or the Mediterranean for that matter, is the unimpressive architecture and a seemingly undefined or preserved culture.

Yes, there are coffee, chocolate, and African palm plantations, a few scattered pre-Columbian sites, and some evidence of Spanish influence, but frankly it is not that interesting in comparison to other places in the world where humans have left their mark. Costa Rica is beautiful, and its people are noble and proud, but it is not a place one should necessarily visit if they quickly get bored of ocean and rain forest activities.

Fortunately for me, I love to surf, and I am somewhat of amateur ornithologist. I appreciated the countless incredible surf spots and Costa Rica’s efforts to preserve large tracts of land in the form of reserves and national parks.

What makes Costa Rica rather unique is its geographic and geologic state. It forms a rather narrow stretch of land between the Caribbean and Pacific oceans, with its middle composed of several, and in one case, active volcanoes. Combined with the right latitude, Costa Rica creates a climate conducive for wildlife and waves.

Tamarindo and the Nicoya Penninsula

The first week in Costa Rica I stayed with some friends in a beautiful  vacation rental perched above the town of Tamarindo called, Casa Leo Loco. The place is palatial and perfect for four couples looking for a vacation getaway. It offers expansive views and solitude, but with close proximity to restaurants, shopping, and beaches. It comes equipped with a caretaker, and the infinity pool, landscaping, and attention to ambiance and architecture make Casa Leo Loco a relaxing place to stay.

I am torn about how to describe the town of Tamarindo. My first impression was fairly negative, thinking that it was a rather seedy little semi-city that is in some sort of slow flux. There is much construction going on, and politicians are padding their pockets with foreign real estate money.

The road into town is still dirt, and depending on the mood of any particular driver who decides to stop in the middle of it, can become clogged with traffic. While you are waiting, you see all sorts of people from American college drop outs to Costa Rican artisans trying to earn a buck. If you are walking, it is quite difficult to get through town without being asked if you would like some marijuana or cocaine.

At first arrival, it is easy to think that the main drag is all that Tamarindo has to offer, but if you take your last left you will find there is much more to it, including a brand new supermercado, restaurants, bars, and casinos, and Playa Grande.

The primary beach is okay with some good surf spots, but it is often crowded with tourists who are just learning how to surf. The best beaches are those that require a little driving – Playa Avellanas, Playa Negra, and Playa Conchal. I had some great surf days at Avellenas and Negra, and snorkeled and rode a horse on the beach at Conchal.

If you are a surfer, and the conditions are good, you must organize a boat tour to Witch’s Rock and Ollie’s Point. Of note, Ollie’s Point is named after Oliver North who, under the Reagan Administration, smuggled arms to the Contras from this location.

After a week, I did find that there were some really good restaurants in Tamarindo, and many of the people were quite nice, but I was admittedly ready to get out of there and see what the rest of the country had to offer.

Driving from Liberia to Quepos

Unless you want to take the ferry, in order to get south of Tamarindo you need to drive east to Liberia and then make your way down Highway 1. Prior to arriving in Costa Rica, I had heard horror stories about the road conditions. While I did experience my fair share of bonzai drivers, pie-in-the-sky potholes, and even a fallen tree that required some offroading to get around, it was much better that I anticipated.

Still, don’t expect to get anywhere quickly. Many times you cannot go over 60 km/hr, and there are countless trucks, cyclists, and pedestrians to slow things down. Additionally, there are police checks in places, and in once instance I was pulled for speeding when I really wasn’t.

The policeman recorded someone else’s speed on his radar gun in hopes that he would come upon some naive tourists in an easily identifiable rental car. Find them he did. He tried to convince me and my wife that we would have to go to the nearest town in two days to pay our ticket. We didn’t know any better and reacted foolishly. In reality, you can actually pay legitimate speeding tickets at the rental car company or the bank. We should have had him right us the ticket. Instead, we gave him $50 to let us off, and we went on our way.

Once you arrive in Puntarenas, the road follows the coastline, and you are presented with many beautiful views and interesting sights to see. Jaco is a popular stop off, as is Quepos, but there are many smaller little towns and lodges along the way if you are looking for privacy.

Quepos’s one redeeming characteristic is that it is in close proximity to Manuel Antonio National Park. Still, it is not a place that I personally would want to spend any time. The Park is packed and the town is grimy and uninteresting. I am so glad that I didn’t stay there.

Quepos to Dominical 

According to the Lonely Planet, the road from Quepos to Dominical is not paved because the Quepoan regional government does not want tourists to go south and spend their money there. In reality, it does not make one damn bit of difference because if a tourist such as me has a plan to go there, then we are going regardless of whether the road is paved or not.

Unfortunately for the locals, they have to put up with dust and poor road conditions as they go about their daily business. While driving, you will pass many African palm plantations, for palm oil is big business in this area.  Also, you very well will find yourself waiting in line at one-lane bridge crossings.

Dominical

Dominical is a sleepy little surf town that has been found by trustafarians, hippies, and internationals looking to start a business. Still, it has a very good and consistent surf break, nice vibe, and it is close to the tallest mountain in Costa Rica, Mount Chirripo. Tortilla Flats is one of the local hangouts, and if you are looking for an American atmosphere with good food and drinks then you’ll like the place.

Dominical to Puerto Jimenez

The road progressively gets more lonely as you head south to Puerto Jimenez. There are beautiful views of the mountains in the east, and  in the west you see the curving mass of land that forms the Osa Penninsula and Drake’s Bay.

I would recommend pushing on through Puerto Jimenez if you can, for there are several beautiful resorts and lodges on the road from Puerto Jimenez and Carate. However, you should know that the road to Carate is quite primitive. Be prepared to make several stream crossings where the water can be up to the car doors even in the dry season.

Carate

At the very end of the road is Carate, which is not really a town but more of a smattering of Tico dwellings, lodges, and a landing strip for small planes. Its’ greatest significance for tourists and scientists is that it represents one of the few entrances to the Corcovado National Park.

Lookout Inn

Like something out of Swiss Family Robinson and Jurassic Park put together, the Lookout Inn stands clinging to the side of a substantial peak that has been uplifted by tectonic force out of the ocean floor.

Terry and Katya run the place, and they have taken great care in creating a special retreat along the Osa Penninsula. There are countless steps and meandering boardwalks that are carefully integrated into the natural environment. Views of the ocean and tropical rainforest are ubiquitous, and to experience either aspect is but a few steps away.

The Tiki Huts are comfortably rustic, and they come equipped with excellent views and regular visits from several species of hummingbirds. You will awake to a cacophony of birds each morning with scarlet macaws being the loudest.

The waterfall hike is very nice, and you will be sure to see toucans, monkeys, and countless reptiles and insects. You begin by climbing Stairway to Heaven, which is a steep climb up some precipitously placed steps that rise directly up from the back of the Lookout Inn.

There are guides that can take you into Corcovado if you really want to see wildlife, just make sure to schedule it with Terry beforehand. If you are interested in deep sea fishing, realize that you can only catch a boat in Puerto Jimenez, which is a 2 hour drive on a dirt road or an expensive plane ride. It is impossible for boats to pick you up in Carate.

I had a wonderful day of surfing in front of the Lookout Inn. The waves were not perfect, but they were glassy and overhead. It felt very special to be out there in the ocean looking back at miles of pristine coastline, catching waves without another soul in sight. I won’t forget it.

North to Jaco

After stocking the cooler and filling up with gas, it was time to head back north. Stopped off in Jaco for a night and stayed at the AparHotel Vista Pacifico. Perched above Jaco on the crest of a hill, the Hotel offers nice views, a refreshing pool, and the owners are nice and helpful with directions and recommendations for restaurants and day trips. Jaco itself is quite touristy, over-developed an unappealing, but it does have a wealth of places to stay if you are breezing through.

Arenal Volcano and Tabacon Resort

From Jaco it is a steady climb up into the mountains through a myriad of small towns that spread out from San Jose. Eventually you break free of condensed civilization, and you behold the flanks of the Arenal Volcano. Lush vegetation, running rivers, and hotsprings are fed by Arenal, and there are several places to choose from when it comes to accommodations.

Tabacon Hot Springs Resort is a rather luxurious retreat with nice rooms, good restaurants, and a large complex of hotsprings that are fantastic despite the crowds. The flowing rivers and waterfalls are all piping hot and offer many different places to soak and relax. If you get thirsty there are bars to belly up to, and if you want a massage there is a complete spa center. Don’t worry, you’ll sleep very well each night you are there.

Monteverde, the Caribbean, and more…

There is still much to see in Costa Rica, and it will take another trip to do it. With so many other countries and regions to explore, it will be some time before I return. In the interim, I suspect that Costa Rica will continue to be subdivided into vacation homes, hotel projects, and international retreats for holier than thou environmental hypocrites who think they deserve to carve out their piece. The reserves and national parks will hopefully remain protected, with the increasing encroachment only making them more special and over-loved. Inevitably, Costa Rica’s habitats will require more governance and more laws with tourism and tax dollars footing the bill.  I hope it’s enough.

For many people the Yucatan represents Cancun, the Mayan Riviera, and Chichen-Itza. While each of these locations posses many positive attributes for the wayfarer, there are many other reasons to travel to the Yucatan. Most flights do culminate at Cancun, but there are also air services to Merida and Campeche on the Gulf side of the Peninsula if you prefer to start there.

As you approach the Cancun airport, the first striking characteristic is the relative flatness of the terrain. Thick vegetation commands the landscape in an even blanket that stretches in all directions. The only thing breaking the even green is a lonesome road or a foreboding electric tower appearing larger than it should be considering the surroundings.

The reason the Peninsula is so flat is because it is entirely composed of a limestone shelf jutting out into the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea. The layers of limestone are composed of the life and death of compacted ancient coral reefs and sand, which serve as a metaphor for the multi-layered human history that chiseled its own existence into the surface of this even terrain starting more than 12,000 years ago.

Built on time, stone, and water, human habitation of the Yucatan has always relied on the geologic composition. At first glance, one would surmise that there is no fresh water available in this flat landscape. Surface lakes and rivers are practically nonexistent, for they lay predominately underground. The spongy limestone has been carved from underneath by the slow erosive properties of water and time, and it has created a vast network of cenotes (wells) and connecting rivers fed by rain and springs, which bring life. A trip to the Yucatan would not be complete without a visit to one of the countless cenotes that pock the landscape.

Mayans constructed their civilizations around cenotes, and the people drank and were sometimes sacrificed in them. Today, the Yucatan still depends on the cenotes for drinking water, but they also serve as tourist attractions for swimming, snorkeling, and diving.

Julia, my wife, and I rented a car in Cancun and drove all around the top half of the Peninsula for a period of ten days. The fairly new rental car had 5300 kilometers on the speedometer when we got it and 7500 kilometers and mud, scratches, scrapes, and cracks when we returned it. A conference was held in the Thrifty parking lot when I returned the car with five men gesticulating and speaking in Spanish while I innocently acted as if I had been on a rather uneventful Sunday drive. Luckily, the main person to make the decision sat inside and spoke English, so I went back in the office and proceeded to reiterate over and over how enamored I was with the Yucatan and its people, and how well he spoke English.

Julia and I often joked that there are more speed bumps in the Yucatan than there are people. You could be driving at 100 kilometers/hour and all of the sudden a speed bump would appear before your surprised eyes, forcing you to slam on the brakes, and narrowly averting going airborne. Their main purpose was served in small towns where the majority of the people walked, road bikes, or used horses, and crazy drivers needed to be slowed down. Invariably, people selling their wares would hunker down right next to the speed bump, so they could capitalize upon your slow movement and side glances.

More often than not Julia and I just wanted to take their picture. Aside from the speed bumps, there were many other obstacles and flashing moments to avoid while driving around the Yucatan. America boasts many big things, but there is no question the Yucatan houses the largest potholes on this planet.

In the countryside, trucks and cars would come barreling towards you at alarming speeds and in the middle of the road. People would decide to pass at times where I thought surely it was their last act on earth. We would drive sections of road cut straight and unwavering through the jungle for miles, and then without warning, in the middle of nowhere, some man would be riding his bike on the side of the road with a machete in one hand and a giant cord of wood strapped to his back. I consulted all spirits of human invention and thanked them for allowing me to end my vacation without having killed someone with the car.

But Julia and I were calm in comparison to most drivers. People in Mexico do not care for lanes or speed limits. Why follow when you can pass? And a horn was not meant to rest idle. Driving in towns and cities on roads never meant for vehicles was harrowing, and after having driven around Merida I can say that people who live in New York and San Francisco have it easy.

Julia and I stayed in Cancun our first night because we arrived too late to drive to Merida right away. We stayed in a nice, affordable hotel in the center of Cancun called Xbalamque Resort and Spa. For those not inspired by the glitzy, ritzy, touristy strip that Cancun is infamous-famous for, one can stay in the heart of the real Cancun and enjoy nice accommodations in close proximity to delicious restaurants.

The hotels downtown are older than most of the ones on the strip, but they exude an aura of a different era with more classical construction, and the interiors project great ambiance that obviously requires care and consideration.

The last night of the trip we did stay in the hotel zone on the strip, and while I am not one to enjoy blatant tourism, I must say that it beats Vegas if not simply for the beautiful Caribbean waters right out the doorstep. I say Vegas because it is very similar with grandiose hotels, nightclubs, and restaurants. A person can get almost anything they want in Cancun. Sitting on the beach sipping a fruity and listening to American music, alternating between the pool and the ocean, looking out across beautiful white sand and azul water towards Isla Mujeres, which we did not have time to visit but hear is a great place to boat out to, is not a bad way to spend a day. But for most of the trip we were not so sedentary, and we were up before 8:00 each morning seeing all that the Yucatan has to offer.

When driving to Merida there is no reason to drive Highway 180d. Driving along we just assumed that we were adventurers in an unknown land. It was not until we forked over the $20 toll that we realized we were just naïve tourists. Highway 180 parallels 180d the entire way to Merida, and that is the way, we later came to find, is the preferred route. Yes, you do go through many more towns that slow you down, but if you can afford an extra 30 minutes it is far more preferable than the drab scenery and expense offered by 180d. The government’s decision to charge this astronomical fee, which basically dissuades everyone from using this brand new road, was perplexing to us; but this would be just the first in a line of government decisions that we found hard to understand.

We stopped off on our way to Merida to see Chichen Itza. It is indeed a touristy place but rightfully so. It is an impressive site with many well preserved temples, structures and the famous ball court. Be sure to check out the acoustics at the ball court by clapping your hands. Also, walk down to the Cenote and imagine you being thrown in there for the purpose of a religious sacrifice.

Merida is a fantastic European-style city, and it is centrally located for visiting many Mayan sites and the Gulf of Mexico towns such as Celestun and Campeche. Julia and I both absolutely loved Merida and were sad to leave. It is a very cosmopolitan city with a rich colonial past evident by the many mansions, palatial buildings, intricate friezes, and overall architectural detail on most all of the buildings. We stayed in a fabulous place called Medio Mundo just a few blocks from the main square. One enters Medio Mundo by ringing the bell on the outside of the large wooden gates and smiling at the gatekeeper through the iron portals. Once let in, you walk into the first of two courtyards adorned with tropical plants, Merida made vases and pots, and beautiful tiling and pastel colored walls and floors. There is a fountain in the first courtyard, and then a pool, tables, and bar in the second courtyard where breakfast is served each morning consisting of fresh fruits and homemade breads and pastries. There are great little nooks to sit and read and relax, the rooms are tastefully done and comfortable, and each night we were lulled to sleep by the splashing fountain below us. Well worth the mere $55 per night we paid.

Originally a Mayan settlement, Merida was conquered by the Spaniards in 1542. Since that time it has grown to 1,000,000 inhabitants of Mayan, Mexican, European, mestijo, and other descent. If traveling to Merida one must plan to spend a Sunday within the City. Many of the tourist attractions are free on Sunday, and there is also live music and people everywhere. Merida is made up of many quaint little parks and squares that are in many cases quite close to one another. A visitor can easily take in four different bands on a typical Sunday by simply walking a few blocks between the main square and the parks of Santa Lucia, Maternidad and Hidalgo. It seems that everyone comes out on Sunday and at some point or another end up in the main square of Merida.

I obviously cannot discuss all of the places to visit in Merida here, and that is what the guide books are for anyway, but the buildings around the main square symbolize so much of the history and future of the Yucatan that I must touch upon them. Probably the most significant structure to first greet the visitor’s eye is The Merida Cathedral. One of the oldest buildings in America, construction was first started when the Spanish ordered the tearing down of the then on-site Mayan temples to build it. I looked but did not see, but apparently Mayan hieroglyphs can still be seen in some of the stones used to build the Cathedral. It is an impressive structure, especially inside with the huge vaulted ceilings and overwhelmingly large and ominous Jesus at the altar. I watched many people crossing their chests as they walked by it on the street.

Right next door is the Palace of the Archbishop, which is a beautiful museum featuring varying works of many different Mexican artists. I would venture to guess that many people think of the stereotypical blankets, hammocks, and the like when they think of Mexican artwork. That type of thinking is not necessarily unfair considering how prevalent it is; nevertheless, the museum illustrates the many other creative outlets of the Mexican people.

On the other side of the street is the guarded Los Palacios building, which houses some impressive paintings by a famous Mexican artist, Castro, which depict the history of Merida. City Hall is on the other corner, and we watched several great performances consisting of Mayan dance, Mexican jazz, and symphony in front of this building three of the four nights we were there. One night Julia and I were the dance partners for two Hispanic women that appeared to have had too much to drink. I spent an entire song with one of those girls wrapped tight around my midsection swaying back and forth to her own beat. It was fun though, and we enjoyed participating more than the casual observer.

Continuing around the square you come to Casa Montejo. Casa Montejo is the most curious building in my opinion because of the carved sculptures that adorn the entrance. The sculptures are of two Spaniards on either side of the doorway standing on the heads of grimacing Mayans obviously in great pain. It is such a blatant reminder of the oppressive and brutal Spanish rule. What is also interesting is that since 1980, Banamex, which is probably the largest banking institution in the area, has owned and occupied the building. Such a befittingly blatant act for the bank; of course, Mexico is filled with blatant acts just like its northern neighbor.

One blatant aspect of Hispanic culture that Julia was especially privy to on many occasions around the Yucatan was the all too familiar machismo that men often practice when they see a woman of fair skin and blue eyes. I know that men of all ethnicities and cultures operate on a heightened sexual plain when in the presence of a pretty woman, but Hispanic men cannot resist the all too common stare, whistle, and the even more unusual, clicking of the teeth.

Julia began to approach the entire phenomenon like a social scientist in the field. She could govern response with slight changes in appearance. It was interesting for me to see the dramatic differences in responses when she wore her hair up in a bun verses when she let it down. She could proceed down the street unmolested if she chose to cover her skin, but the moment she exposed, for instance, her shoulders and arms, countless responses were instantaneous. It certainly made Julia a bit uncomfortable, but after a while the cars stopping in the middle of the street, the barrage of whistles and cat calls, clicking teeth, and stares everywhere became humorous – only, of course, because they were all harmless. I guess it is all about what you are not used to, especially in a foreign land.

Over the ages the “beautiful blonde” has continued to captivate and instigate many cultures. There was one billboard that we often saw around the Yucatan that summed up the whole situation quite nicely. Superior beer, a Mexican beer, commissioned these enormous billboards featuring a thinly clad blonde white woman swilling their beer with a look of ecstasy. Hispanics do not have blonde hair, but they are obviously drawn to those that do. During our travels, Julia and I saw many such advertisements. In my opinion, brunettes of all races are equally beautiful, but we never saw large billboards featuring them.

We did several day outings from Merida, including Uxmal and Celestun. Uxmal is a wonderful excavation with ruins as equally impressive as Chichen Itza, but without the crowds. There are structures still being unearthed from the jungle carpet, but it is quite clear that the Mayans once operated a massive city here. Sources state that Uxmal was at its peak around 750-925 A.D., and it was the hub for a civilized area stretching over 160 kilometers. Uxmal is a fantastic place to spend an entire day consorting with those that have come before us.

Celestun is, well, funky. The coastal area is a bit barren and the burned down restaurant featured in the guidebook didn’t exactly give us the warm and fuzzies. We headed down to the docks and hopped aboard a boat with a congenial captain to see the profusion of flamingos that find respite in the protected bays just inland of the ocean. They feed upon a shrimp that contributes to the beautiful color of their plumage. It is quite a sight to see what seems to be thousands of these pink pirouettes bobbing about in the shallow waters in search of food.

Driving in and out of Merida you will discover many long forgotten haciendas, which in their heyday employed significant amounts of laborers bent on producing rope and twine from the agave plant. Spanish overlords made a healthy living shipping their product to Europe and beyond, and the haciendas reflected their opulence. Many of the haciendas are beautiful and demonstrate the Spanish and Moorish architecture. Likewise, you will see churches and cathedrals in close proximity, which emulate this same style. They are at the center of all of the ubiquitous little cities that dot the Yucatan Peninsula. The Spanish definitely exerted their influence, but revolution eventually overturned their rule.

From Merida, we made our way to the Caribbean and Tulum. While Tulum is a popular destination for tourists being bussed and boated down from Cancun, it still maintains a certain charm and calm. We stayed in a cabana right on the beach and enjoyed some nice boat assisted snorkeling, the ruins of Tulum, and some delicious seafood. We also spent a considerable amount of time simply lounging on the beach, relaxing and swimming, with side trips to the refreshing cenote swimming holes just inland of the coast.

One of cenotes we visited was the Grand Cenote just outside of Tulum. It was fantastic. The crystal clear water is a refreshing change from the salty ocean and humid air. The cenote itself is reminiscent of an oasis in the midst of a desert. Of course, you are not in a desert but instead in a tropical Caribbean paradise; but you get the point.

Simply bobbing under and above the stalagmites and stalactites would not give you a sense of the depth of the Grand Cenote, nor would a snorkel and mask. Fortunately, I happened to be snorkeling around in the back of one of these caves, admiring the fish and the sapphire light, when three divers emerged from one of the side caverns with their flashlights on. It was then that I understood how three-dimensional the Yucatan Peninsula really is. What I saw was an enormous ampitheatre that stretched underground farther than the eye could see. These little edens offer life to many other species aside from humans, so be careful not to come face to face with something you do not want to meet. Life is abundant and beautiful in the Yucatan, but it is not all friendly.

On our way back up the coast to Cancun, and the eventual flight back to responsibility, we were amazed at the amount of growth. Resorts are springing up everywhere, and don’t be surprised to see a Walmart billboard or two. How easy it is for giant excavators and earth movers to simply tear away the vegetation and put the stamp of man in its place. Hopefully there is a local movement on the part of Maya and Mexicans to protect some of what is left.

Despite signs of rapid development, the moral of the story is that there is much more to the Yucatan than Cancun. Poke around a bit and you will uncover a rich history filled with incredible accomplishments, bitter oppression, and the melding of a diverse culture, which is still holding on to many of its traditions.

Here in the Tahoe region there are so many recreational opportunities at one’s fingertips. With the distinctive seasons, beautiful mountains, and close proximity to the coast or desert, it is a wonder that anyone has time to venture elsewhere. However, a vast world lies open for exploration with many different cultures and characteristics to amuse and amaze the curious mind.

Interestingly enough, a particular expeditionary company by the name of Bio Bio Expeditions operates right here out of Truckee, and their specialty is to guide those who seek to see foreign locales away from the fray of other tourists. It is this particular company that enabled me to experience Peru in a way that I will never forget. The mission was to navigate one of the deepest canyons on earth, the Cotahuasi.

The trip was absolutely outstanding. It offered a healthy combination of adrenaline and culture that anyone would find enlightening. The Cotahuasi Canyon itself is filled with innumerable whitewater rapids and Inca ruins littered with ancient remains and artifacts. But first you have to get there.

Home base was Arequipa, which is in Southern Peru, and it is a sizeable city with about 1 million inhabitants. Bio Bio put us up at the El Lago Resort, which is a luxurious little oasis on the edge of the city. The alpacas keep the grass trimmed, and the employees make sure the Jacuzzi is hot.

Viewed from the Resort and towering above the city are several Andean peaks all in the 20,000ft range, some of which are still active volcanoes. One of them recently erupted, spewing volcanic ash on the neighboring mountains causing the glaciers to melt and recede. This action exposed the two famous mummies, Juanita and Serita, who are featured in a museum in Arequipa.

Right across from the museum is the monastery of Santa Catalina,  which was built in 1580 but not open to the public until the 1970′s. It is one full block in size and completely walled in. It is an absolutely beautiful excursion into this city within a city. You poke around and get lost as you view the various artifacts that are left lying around. It is definitely a photographer’s dream with the varying colors, stonework, and views of snow-capped peaks in the distance.

From Arequipa it is a day of driving, primarily on dirt roads, to reach the town of Cotahuasi. The journey takes you through quaint towns filled with truly great people. At each stop we were presented with smiling faces and fantastic hospitality. Once in Cotahuasi, it is the last chance to gather any forgotten provisions and enjoy the modern conveniences we so often take for granted.

From the town of Cotahuasi it is a 15-mile portage around the majestic Sipia Falls before you can get to the river. All the gear, including kayaks and rafts, is strapped to the sides of burros. While these faithful animals carry the load, the hiker can proceed unencumbered into a gorge twice the depth of the Grand Canyon. Ambling along an ancient Inca trail carved into this beautiful landscape was unforgettable. Even though the canyon’s original inhabitants were buried over a thousand years ago, I couldn’t help but imagine Inca runners traveling from the ocean to the mountains delivering messages and fresh seafood to their omnipotent kings.

The next 6 days were spent paddling continuous class IV-V whitewater. The Argentine chef, Diego, cooked meals that had me briefly thinking we were not in the middle of nowhere. Each night we camped on Inca terraces and explored ruins filled with skulls and bones and artifacts of all kinds.  

Bio Bio really impresses the importance of leaving everything undisturbed, and we did. It is better to leave the relics of an extinct culture to the archaeologists, and the next individuals that navigate the mystical canyon walls of the Cotahuasi.

The shuttle back to Arequipa meant the end of an extraordinary adventure, and I could not help but lament its conclusion. There are many cultures and many rivers still left to explore, but the Cotahuasi will always be a precious memory in my mind.