My husband and I spent four days skiing and snowshoeing in and around Snowmass, but because we wanted to slot our return drive in after crews had scraped the remains of a blizzard off the highways but before day-skier traffic picked up, we left before 6:00 a.m. That put us in Glenwood Springs before 7:00, which meant that our customary cafe wasn't open yet.
Instead, we stopped at the Kum & Go gas station and convenience store. Against my better judgment, I stuck a styrofoam cup under the "espresso" machine and pushed the button for "French vanilla." Out came a stream of something coffee-ish, followed by stream of something dairy-ish. The taste was so artificial and chemical that I took three sips and poured the rest out.
This was just one example of the abysmal food and drink sold in convenience stores. It wasn't only the coffee that was awful, but at 6-something a.m., six greasy hot dogs were rotating on one of those machines with hot metal rollers, and some burgers sealed in foil bags were in some kind of box display that kept them hot. The store was whistle-clean, and the pleasant guy on duty wore a spiffy shirt and even a tie, but I still wondered how long ago the stuff they call food had been manufactured and how long it was being held hot.
We eventually stopped at the marvelous Columbine Bakery in Avon for excellent espresso drinks and first-rate pastries. The whole experience reminded me of why I have zeroed in on quality coffee stops in much of Colorado whenever I need a caffeine fix. This list is not comprehensive, but just includes some of my favorites for coffee to go. Some are mainly cafes, while others have fresh baked goods and even deli offerings to fuel travelers with fare that is fab rather than foul:
Avon: Columbine Bakery, 51 East Beaver Creek Boulevard (near I-70 Exit 167, across from City Market); 970-949-1400.
Buena Vista: Bongo Billy's Buena Vista Cafe, 713 South U.S. Hwy 24; 719-395-2634.
Colorado Springs: The Coffee Exchange, 526 South Tejon Street (downtown); 719-227-8639.
Dillon: Blue Moon Bakery, 253 Summit Place Shopping Center (just off I-70 Exit 205); 970-513-0669.
Durango: Steaming Bean Coffee Company, 915 Main Avenue; 970-385-9516.
Frisco: Butterhorn Bakery, 408 Main Street (between I-70 Exits 201 and 203); 970-668-3997.
Glenwood Springs: Summit Canyon Mountaineering & Coffee House, 732 Grand Avenue (main street); 970-945-6994.
Golden: Noa-Noa Espresso & News, 109 Rubey Drive (just off Route 93, north of the interesection with U.S. 6); 303-277-0303.
Idaho Springs: Exit 240 Ski & Bike Rental (and espresso bar), 1319 Miner Street (just of I-70); 877-567-2220 and 303-567-2220.
Leadville: Cloud City Coffee House 711 Harrison Avenue (main street); 719-486-1317.
Montrose: Coffee Trader, 845 East Main Street; 970-249-6295.
Pagosa Springs: Victoria's Parlor, 274 Pagosa Street (main street); 970-264-0204.
Salida: Bongo Billy's Salida Cafe, 300 West Sackett Avenue; 719-539-4261.
Silverton: Avalanche Coffee House & Bakery, 1067 Empire Street (off US 550 in downtown Silverton, between the Durango & Silverton Railroad Depot and Greene Street, the main street); 970-387-5282.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Do As I Post, Not As I Pack
My husband and I are leaving today for a few days of skiing in the Aspen-Snowmass area. I haven't yet packed, and neither has he, but when we get going, we'll load into the car two pairs of Alpine skis and poles (his and mine), two pairs of Nordic skis and poles, two boot bags, two bigger bags with clothing for each of us (skiwear and winter streetwear are bulky) and a bag with a couple of bottles of wine, some fresh fruit and perhaps even some holiday leftovers (we're staying at a friends' mountain home, so we'll be eating in now and again anyway).
How ironic this morning's E-mail brought the suggestion that I look at a website called One Bag, subtitled "The Art and Science of Travelling Light" (it's British, so "traveling" has two Ls). When going skiing, it is impossible to travel light, unless you are renting all your gear and are willing to wear a parka and perhaps insulated ski pants en route. Same with scuba diving. Divers don't lug their own weights and certainly not air tanks around (unless they own their own boat or go shore diving from home), but even though tropical clothing is light and compact, a BCD, mask, snorkel, fins, wetsuit, etc. are bulky and require a big bag.
I like to think of myself as an experienced traveler (I'm American, so I just use one L) who can pack light fast to travel efficiently, but in truth, I really don't travel light much these days. I often am on the road with recreation gear (and a laptop computer too), only for the rare short business trip to a city, can I manage with just a carry-0n. I have two that will fit into an airplane's overhead compartment: a small, off-brand wheeled version (BiBoss is the brand) that I bought on on New York's Orchard Street for $20 or a smaller but heavier L.L. Bean wheeled bag. I also take a paded briefcase for my laptop, some papers, a small purse and a book to read on the plane that I stick under the seat in front of me.
When I travel to a longer meeting or convention that requires dress and/or business clothing, as well as something casual for off-hours, I take a bigger but very lightweight rolling bag by Delsey. If it's a ski or other sports trip, I take my High Sierra rolling duffle. It's rugged, has a couple of big compartments and a couple of separate smaller ones for boots. I particuarly like the pack straps that zip out of the back. They are not usually necessary, but they make it easier to haul the bag up a couple of flights of stairs in a B&B or when changing trains at small stations in Europe that requires walking downstairs, under the tracks and up a flight again.
In any case, I usually take a padded briefcase too for my laptop and a small backpack for my purse, book(s), noise-canceling headphones, etc. With the TSA security policies, toiletries have to go into checked luggage anyway. And when I it's a road trip, there's no motivation or reason to pack light.
How ironic this morning's E-mail brought the suggestion that I look at a website called One Bag, subtitled "The Art and Science of Travelling Light" (it's British, so "traveling" has two Ls). When going skiing, it is impossible to travel light, unless you are renting all your gear and are willing to wear a parka and perhaps insulated ski pants en route. Same with scuba diving. Divers don't lug their own weights and certainly not air tanks around (unless they own their own boat or go shore diving from home), but even though tropical clothing is light and compact, a BCD, mask, snorkel, fins, wetsuit, etc. are bulky and require a big bag.
I like to think of myself as an experienced traveler (I'm American, so I just use one L) who can pack light fast to travel efficiently, but in truth, I really don't travel light much these days. I often am on the road with recreation gear (and a laptop computer too), only for the rare short business trip to a city, can I manage with just a carry-0n. I have two that will fit into an airplane's overhead compartment: a small, off-brand wheeled version (BiBoss is the brand) that I bought on on New York's Orchard Street for $20 or a smaller but heavier L.L. Bean wheeled bag. I also take a paded briefcase for my laptop, some papers, a small purse and a book to read on the plane that I stick under the seat in front of me.
When I travel to a longer meeting or convention that requires dress and/or business clothing, as well as something casual for off-hours, I take a bigger but very lightweight rolling bag by Delsey. If it's a ski or other sports trip, I take my High Sierra rolling duffle. It's rugged, has a couple of big compartments and a couple of separate smaller ones for boots. I particuarly like the pack straps that zip out of the back. They are not usually necessary, but they make it easier to haul the bag up a couple of flights of stairs in a B&B or when changing trains at small stations in Europe that requires walking downstairs, under the tracks and up a flight again.
In any case, I usually take a padded briefcase too for my laptop and a small backpack for my purse, book(s), noise-canceling headphones, etc. With the TSA security policies, toiletries have to go into checked luggage anyway. And when I it's a road trip, there's no motivation or reason to pack light.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Time Travel in Colorado
It was Friday afternoon, two days after the big storm, before I finally got around to digging out my car sufficiently to go to the supermarket, and I probably wouldn't have done it yet if we weren't having guests on Christmas Eve -- and there was cooking and baking to be done. The nearby King Soopers market resembled my image of Moscow markets in the Soviet era. Customers plodded across snowpiles, slush puddles and ice sheets to the front door, where a dispirited Salvation Army bell ringer was hoping someone would drop something into the kettle now and then.
Immediately inside was a sign apologizing for the small inventory, because delivery trucks hadn't been able to resupply the store. The produce bins were almost empty, with onions, potatoes, avocados and winter squash the only items displayed in any sort of quantity. Everything else was gone or almost so. Ditto with the meat and seafood sections, the bread shelves, the dairy section (the store was almost out of eggs) and the toilet paper shelves. I bought what I needed for baking and have to go back today hoping that the trucks made it with the winter vegetables I plan to roast for tomorrow's dinner.
In this prosperous city in our well-off land, we are unaccustomed to doing without anything we want. We don't go hungry, unless we are dieting and are hungry by choice. But seeing "my" King Soopers picked over reminded me that so many people in our community, our country and around the world simply don't have enough to eat. On the way out of the market, I dropped some money in the Salvation Army kettle, and today, I'm sending off another check to Heifer International, Oxfam or some other global hunger relief organization, and to Community Food Share, the Denver Rescue Mission or Friends of Man closer to home.
Immediately inside was a sign apologizing for the small inventory, because delivery trucks hadn't been able to resupply the store. The produce bins were almost empty, with onions, potatoes, avocados and winter squash the only items displayed in any sort of quantity. Everything else was gone or almost so. Ditto with the meat and seafood sections, the bread shelves, the dairy section (the store was almost out of eggs) and the toilet paper shelves. I bought what I needed for baking and have to go back today hoping that the trucks made it with the winter vegetables I plan to roast for tomorrow's dinner.
In this prosperous city in our well-off land, we are unaccustomed to doing without anything we want. We don't go hungry, unless we are dieting and are hungry by choice. But seeing "my" King Soopers picked over reminded me that so many people in our community, our country and around the world simply don't have enough to eat. On the way out of the market, I dropped some money in the Salvation Army kettle, and today, I'm sending off another check to Heifer International, Oxfam or some other global hunger relief organization, and to Community Food Share, the Denver Rescue Mission or Friends of Man closer to home.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
A Very Quiet Town
It started snowing in Boulder sometime between 6:00 and 7:00 this morning. Gorgeous snow: flakes as soft as powdered sugar that fell straight down, without blowing or drifting, throughout a temperate day and into this rather mild evening. By 3:30 this afternoon, when I was heading for the post office (five days before Christmas, of course), more than a foot of snow was on the ground, and the town had virtually shut down. Little traffic moved on the streets. Evidence of snowplowing was confined to a few arterials. Most stores and restaurants on the Pearl Street Mall were closed.
Perhaps reflecting Boulder's priorities, those that remained open on or near the Mall included Lolita's grocery, Nick-n-Willy's bake-your-own pizza, the West End Tavern, the Boulder Bookstore, the metaphysical bookstore, the Hagen-Dasz ice cream shop, Belvedere Chocolates, Outdoor Divas (women's sporting goods and clothing), Powell's candy, the Lazy Dog (sports bar), the Boulder Arts and Crafts Coop, the Trident Cafe, the Trattoria on Pearl and the falafel place. By the time I wandered back a bit after 4:30, many of these businesses had also closed.
En route to the post office, I did stop at Nick-n-Willy's to order a pizza that I would pick up on the way home. It seemed a perfect night to fill the house with the aroma of baking pizza without actually having to make the dough and find enough ingredients in the larder to assemble a good one. By the time I reached the post office, it too had closed. I used the credit card-driven apparatus that weighs packages and prints postage, a time-consuming process because it is necessary to answer the same series of electronic questions for each parcel. Still, I welcomed the technology at that point, because I preferred to walk home without the burden of packages -- and no matter how long it took for them to reach their destination, at least my conscience was clear.
The Mall was lovely. Holiday lights were capped by a mantle of snow. Store windows were festively decorated. A few people strolled quietly and unhurriedly. There was no cell-phone chatter, only one Mall musician and only one panhandler. Even though a small motorized plow attached to a vehicle that resembled an ATV was cruising back and forth, its driver trying valiantly to keep up, there was more soft snow than hard brick underfoot. The Mall bore a sense of late-night tranquility, though in truth, it's not usually quiet late at night with the bars emptying and all.
By the time I walked back, the 7 Eurobar had unlocked its door, and Rhumba was open for business too. There were even a few patrons under the awning on the patio, being served from the bar through the overhead door. As I was approaching Nick-n-Willy's I heard a strange swish-click-swish-click-swish-click and turned see a couple cross-country skiing down the middle of Pearl Street, their pole tips punching through the choppy snow and tapping onto the alphalt. (I took the photo above the following afternoon, when the snow had tapered off, and a few pedestrians, and two cross-country skiers, were wandering past the still-shuttered downtown businesses.)
En route to the post office, I did stop at Nick-n-Willy's to order a pizza that I would pick up on the way home. It seemed a perfect night to fill the house with the aroma of baking pizza without actually having to make the dough and find enough ingredients in the larder to assemble a good one. By the time I reached the post office, it too had closed. I used the credit card-driven apparatus that weighs packages and prints postage, a time-consuming process because it is necessary to answer the same series of electronic questions for each parcel. Still, I welcomed the technology at that point, because I preferred to walk home without the burden of packages -- and no matter how long it took for them to reach their destination, at least my conscience was clear.
The Mall was lovely. Holiday lights were capped by a mantle of snow. Store windows were festively decorated. A few people strolled quietly and unhurriedly. There was no cell-phone chatter, only one Mall musician and only one panhandler. Even though a small motorized plow attached to a vehicle that resembled an ATV was cruising back and forth, its driver trying valiantly to keep up, there was more soft snow than hard brick underfoot. The Mall bore a sense of late-night tranquility, though in truth, it's not usually quiet late at night with the bars emptying and all.
By the time I walked back, the 7 Eurobar had unlocked its door, and Rhumba was open for business too. There were even a few patrons under the awning on the patio, being served from the bar through the overhead door. As I was approaching Nick-n-Willy's I heard a strange swish-click-swish-click-swish-click and turned see a couple cross-country skiing down the middle of Pearl Street, their pole tips punching through the choppy snow and tapping onto the alphalt. (I took the photo above the following afternoon, when the snow had tapered off, and a few pedestrians, and two cross-country skiers, were wandering past the still-shuttered downtown businesses.)
Nick-n-Willy's was warm and steamy when I picked up my pizza and walked home. Because I live in Boulder, this experience wasn't "travel." Still, though I wanted to share it on this blog because if I had walked through some other beautiful, quiet downtown, this would be an afternoon to file in my bank of treasured memories of that place at a special and magical time.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Park City Post Mortem
It might seem silly to leave Colorado to ski in Utah, but every once in a while, that's what I do, especially if I'm going to meet up with people from other time zones. It is an astonishingly easy hop: an hour and change from Denver International Airport, a quick van ride to the mountains, and with a morning departure (my Southwest Airlines flight left at 8:20), it's possible to be on the slopes before noon.
It was even easier for me this time, because my rental equipment from Ski Butlers, a three-year-old service, had well-tuned skis waiting for me at the hotel. I wouldn't dream of using rental boots, and Ski Butlers adjusted the bindings to my boots while I quickly changed into my ski clothes. (They also rent snowboards and kids' gear, and as a parent who once lugged my and my son's skis through airports, I can tell you it's worth renting children's equipment rather than carrying it to distant slopes.)
There were no lines anywhere. I racked up more than 50,000 vertical feet skiing Tuesday afternoon and until lunchtime Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. That comes out to an average of 12,500 vertical feet per half-day. Impressive!
My Utah friends were whining about the snow, which over three-and-a-half days at three ski areas was hard in spots, groomed to corduroy in others, and spring-soft in still others. But let me tell you that Europeans and Easterners would kill for the kinds of conditions that Utah skiers were complaining about. A good part of the terrain at all three areas -- The Canyons, Deer Valley, and Park City Mountain Resort -- was open. A bit of vegetation showed here and there, and on connector roads, the groomers had churned up a few rocks. But by and large, the cover was better than decent. But Utah skiers weren't satisfied. They were looking for the big storm moving in from the northwest. They didn't have long to wait after I left.
In the last 24 hours, the three Utah resorts that I just skied were blessed by the promised dump: 20 inches reported at Park City Mountain Resort, 10 inches at The Canyons, 12 inches at Deer Valley. Since these three resorts are in the same valley, I am guessing that PCMR measures its snow in a prime deposition zone -- the only way I can explain such accumulation differences within just a few miles. Meanwhile, most of the ski areas in the East are either not open at all or have minimal terrain open, much as the Alps did when I was there a bit over a week ago (and continues to experience).
It was even easier for me this time, because my rental equipment from Ski Butlers, a three-year-old service, had well-tuned skis waiting for me at the hotel. I wouldn't dream of using rental boots, and Ski Butlers adjusted the bindings to my boots while I quickly changed into my ski clothes. (They also rent snowboards and kids' gear, and as a parent who once lugged my and my son's skis through airports, I can tell you it's worth renting children's equipment rather than carrying it to distant slopes.)
There were no lines anywhere. I racked up more than 50,000 vertical feet skiing Tuesday afternoon and until lunchtime Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. That comes out to an average of 12,500 vertical feet per half-day. Impressive!
My Utah friends were whining about the snow, which over three-and-a-half days at three ski areas was hard in spots, groomed to corduroy in others, and spring-soft in still others. But let me tell you that Europeans and Easterners would kill for the kinds of conditions that Utah skiers were complaining about. A good part of the terrain at all three areas -- The Canyons, Deer Valley, and Park City Mountain Resort -- was open. A bit of vegetation showed here and there, and on connector roads, the groomers had churned up a few rocks. But by and large, the cover was better than decent. But Utah skiers weren't satisfied. They were looking for the big storm moving in from the northwest. They didn't have long to wait after I left.
In the last 24 hours, the three Utah resorts that I just skied were blessed by the promised dump: 20 inches reported at Park City Mountain Resort, 10 inches at The Canyons, 12 inches at Deer Valley. Since these three resorts are in the same valley, I am guessing that PCMR measures its snow in a prime deposition zone -- the only way I can explain such accumulation differences within just a few miles. Meanwhile, most of the ski areas in the East are either not open at all or have minimal terrain open, much as the Alps did when I was there a bit over a week ago (and continues to experience).
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The Snows of Park City
A week ago, I was gazing ruefully at the brown slopes of the Alps. For the record, according to today's snow conditions reports, the situation sadly hasn't improved a lot since then. Now, I am looking out my hotel window at the white-coated mountains of Utah, fading away in the dimming light. My view is of some of the runs at Park City Mountain Resort, where I see the headlights of snowcats prowling the mountain to groom the light chop created by today's light skier/snowboarder traffic into corduroy. The same thing is going on at The Canyons, where I skied yesterday, and Deer Valley, where I plan to ski tomorrow.
These three ski areas surrounding the town of Park City among them have scores of runs open, but locals are champing at the bit for another couple of big storms so that the steeps, chutes and high bowls will be opened and for Utah's fabled deep powder. Skiers who are at European resorts now can only envy the conditions that locals here are complaining about.
For visitors, conditions are already very good. I'm not sure when the last big snowfall was, but the ski mountains have been picking up a few inches a day. This evening, it's warm and even a bit drizzly in town, but I suppose it's probably snowing up higher. It's not windy, so nothing is blowing off the ski runs. The packed powder surface is forgiving underfoot. Lift lines are non-existent. And the town and resort developments look festive with their Christmas trees and holiday lights.
The big snow the locals are lusting after is forecast for Sunday, and if there's anything left, Colorado and perhaps northern New Mexico should get another dump early next week. I wish the world weather pattterns were such that the remainder would bless the Northeast with snow and continue across the Atlantic, sweeping across Spain and France to help the Alps out too. But alas, I'm not the weather arranger, and my wishes for snowy abundance everywhere don't count. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the slopes and the early-season cruising here.
These three ski areas surrounding the town of Park City among them have scores of runs open, but locals are champing at the bit for another couple of big storms so that the steeps, chutes and high bowls will be opened and for Utah's fabled deep powder. Skiers who are at European resorts now can only envy the conditions that locals here are complaining about.
For visitors, conditions are already very good. I'm not sure when the last big snowfall was, but the ski mountains have been picking up a few inches a day. This evening, it's warm and even a bit drizzly in town, but I suppose it's probably snowing up higher. It's not windy, so nothing is blowing off the ski runs. The packed powder surface is forgiving underfoot. Lift lines are non-existent. And the town and resort developments look festive with their Christmas trees and holiday lights.
The big snow the locals are lusting after is forecast for Sunday, and if there's anything left, Colorado and perhaps northern New Mexico should get another dump early next week. I wish the world weather pattterns were such that the remainder would bless the Northeast with snow and continue across the Atlantic, sweeping across Spain and France to help the Alps out too. But alas, I'm not the weather arranger, and my wishes for snowy abundance everywhere don't count. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the slopes and the early-season cruising here.
Hotels and the Environment
At home and on the road, my husband and I are dedicated recyclers. We buy products made fom recycled materials whenever we can. We are water-conscious and don't let the water run unnecessarily while brushing teeth or doing kitchen chores. We always do laundry on the lowest practical water level and temperature. We installed an on-demand water heater, and as often as not, we run the dishwasher on "power save" mode. We have switched to the new energy-saving lightbulbs and even then, turn off lights in rooms that no one is in. We have setback thermostats, set to no higher than 66 degrees, and we don't have air conditioning. We have decided to voluntarily pay about 10 percent extra on our monthly electric bill as an "energy offset" to purchase our electricity from windpower, and we are looking at solar panels -- if we can find some that would be workable in the historic district where we live. In short, we try to do do our modest bit for the environment.
When I travel, I always take the "green" option of reusing towels instead of tossing them on the floor to be washed and asking that the sheets not be changed daily. After all, we don't wash sheets and towels at home every day, but I am really not confident that most hotels' housekepers heed that request.
But something else just struck me: waste of electricity. I am currently in an "executive suite" in the Hotel Park City in Utah. This room category has a living area/kitchenette a couple of steps down from the sleeping area. As usual, I turned off all the lights when I left for dinner last night, and when I returned, turn-down service included turn-on service. The housekeeper had turned on at least nine lights: one in the entranceway, two above the fireplace, one on either side of the sofa, one on either side of the bed, two above the kitchenette unit and one in the bathroom. Every bulb is an energy-sapping standard incandescent. At least the TV and radio were not switched on. A huge outdoor Christmas tree outside my window burned all night, as did several in the lobby area. The Hotel Park City is far from unique.
Further, there is a wall fixture next to the door to each room. Each set of room doors is paired so that an odd- and an even-numbered room are just inches from each other, and a totally unnecessary ceiling fixture hangs at each pair of doors. Two doors, three fixtures within a few feet of each other is approximately 50 percent more hallway lighting than is necessary. In fairness, the Tiffany-style lamps on tables here and there in the common areas that are on 24/7 were energy-savers -- but still, it saves more energy not to have so many lights burning so much of the time.
Perhaps I was particularly struck by this waste because I was so recently in Europe, where the hallways of many hotels and apartment buildings are wired with on-demand, timed light switches. Get off the elevator or leave your room to click on hallway lights, which turn off automatically after a few minutes, when you presumably don't need them anymore. At Austria's St. Antoner Hof, motion sensors in the hall turn the lights on when you get off the elevator or leave your room and of course, turn off automatically, after a few minutes. That's probably against some US safety regulation, but it makes sense to reconsider such energy saving options. So if anyone in the hotel industry is paying attention, please give some thought.
When I travel, I always take the "green" option of reusing towels instead of tossing them on the floor to be washed and asking that the sheets not be changed daily. After all, we don't wash sheets and towels at home every day, but I am really not confident that most hotels' housekepers heed that request.
But something else just struck me: waste of electricity. I am currently in an "executive suite" in the Hotel Park City in Utah. This room category has a living area/kitchenette a couple of steps down from the sleeping area. As usual, I turned off all the lights when I left for dinner last night, and when I returned, turn-down service included turn-on service. The housekeeper had turned on at least nine lights: one in the entranceway, two above the fireplace, one on either side of the sofa, one on either side of the bed, two above the kitchenette unit and one in the bathroom. Every bulb is an energy-sapping standard incandescent. At least the TV and radio were not switched on. A huge outdoor Christmas tree outside my window burned all night, as did several in the lobby area. The Hotel Park City is far from unique.
Further, there is a wall fixture next to the door to each room. Each set of room doors is paired so that an odd- and an even-numbered room are just inches from each other, and a totally unnecessary ceiling fixture hangs at each pair of doors. Two doors, three fixtures within a few feet of each other is approximately 50 percent more hallway lighting than is necessary. In fairness, the Tiffany-style lamps on tables here and there in the common areas that are on 24/7 were energy-savers -- but still, it saves more energy not to have so many lights burning so much of the time.
Perhaps I was particularly struck by this waste because I was so recently in Europe, where the hallways of many hotels and apartment buildings are wired with on-demand, timed light switches. Get off the elevator or leave your room to click on hallway lights, which turn off automatically after a few minutes, when you presumably don't need them anymore. At Austria's St. Antoner Hof, motion sensors in the hall turn the lights on when you get off the elevator or leave your room and of course, turn off automatically, after a few minutes. That's probably against some US safety regulation, but it makes sense to reconsider such energy saving options. So if anyone in the hotel industry is paying attention, please give some thought.
Saturday, December 9, 2006
Still No Snow in the Alps
I've just returned for a quick trip to the Alps, to take a look at a trio of resorts being offered in an innovative mix-and-match package assembled by a new tour operator. Baobab Expeditions has an interesting concept for skiers who have a week or two and want to sample three or more resorts. The Ski Expeditions program is offered both in Colorado and in the Alps. The preview trip of three European resorts in three days (plus travel time) -- long enough to affirm that there still is no snow in the Alps -- left time to explore a bit and to indulge in the wonderful food of the Alpine region. I'll add a post to http://culinary-colorado.blogspot.com/ within a couple of days to share my dining experiences, which I hope will be sufficiently mouthwatering to convince you that European resorts have a lot offer, even when there is no snow. But for now, here's the skinny on the sad state of skiing across the pond.
I skied St. Moritz on Tuesday, December 5. Of the resort's 72 lifts, just six were operating. Four were running on a massif called the Corvatsch -- a beginner platterpull beside the bot
tom station of the cable car, the first stage of the cable car below which three runs were open, a four-place bubble quad chairlift (top photo, right) serving two intermediate runs that come together to form one run and one T-bar on a short teaching slope. These runs are snowmaking-equipped, even on the glacier, so that when a spot had been scraped off, glacial ice showed through. Beside the runs were rocks, rocks and more rocks, plus tufts of grass and trees at lower elevations. The exhilaration of early-season skiing was tempered by the discouraging picture just off-trail.
The skiing was marginal by most measures, but Alpine panoramas nevertheless are magnificent. So that visitors could enjoy the scenery, no matter what the snow conditions were like, the second stage of the cable car was operating only for foot passengers who wanted to enjoy the panora
ma of sun-kissed peaks stretched out to the horizon (middle photo, right) and lunch in the summit cafeteria or restaurant. A couple of lifts and runs -- even fewer than on the Corvatsch -- were also open on the Corviglia/Piz Nair, but I didn't ski there.
It was pouring in St. Moritz on Wednesday, and hopeful skiers and boarders headed to the Corvatsch lusting for powder. There was snow, indeed. It was blinding, goggle-coating snow that helped the cover but wasn't a lot of run to ski in. And in the end, it didn't seem to make a difference in the amount of terrain that was deemed skiable.
The next stop was across the border in Livigno, Italy, reached by a one-lane tunnel thro
ugh the mountains. Of the 33 lifts, three were operating, one short surface lift and two chairlifts, betweem them serving two very modest ribbons of snow (bottom photo, right) laid down down on a sloping meadow just off the village's main drag. So much snowmaking effort had resulted in so little cover that it was not even possible to ski between the loading areas of the two lifts, which are just steps apart. There was also a small moving carpet for children at the bottom of the easiest of the two runs, but I don't know whether that is counted in the census of 33. The cover was so pathetic that skiing was free.
Many people who come to Livigno at this time of year are because they are Milanese who come for the duty-free shopping and don't care whether or not there is snow. The long, thin town has charming little hotels and guest houses, restaurants and shops, the vast majority of which sell the same brands of tobacco products, cosmetics, perfumes and booze. It's a little like a cross between a quaint Alpine village and an international airport terminal.
The last stop on Thursday, December 7 was St. Anton-am-Arlberg, Austria, the brightest star in a fabled galaxy of resorts that had hoped to crank up its lifts the following day. It's now the 9th, and according to the slope reports on St. Anton's website, nothing is running yet.
Hoteliers and resort officials publicly say that "it's still early" and speak optimistically about the season's snow prospects, but there are clouds of doubt in their eyes even as they try to put a good spin on the gloomy situation. BBC World ran a feature while I was there indicating that every year for the past 15 has been warmer than the previous one in western Europe, and that this fall has been the warmest in something like 1,300 years, according to an austrian meteorologist named Reinhard Boehm. Other reports, including a wire-service story that appeared in Ski Racing, confirm the same thing.
The U.S. Rockies also experienced an unseasonably warm, dry fall, but snowfall has been sufficient since late November to launch the ski season with enough cover. The Alps might get snow any day now (though the forecast is not encouraging), and the West could experience fewer storms after a good start. I'm rooting for good snow everywhere. I love Baobab Expeditions' concept and just hope there's enough snow in the Alps to give it a good shot at succeeding.
I skied St. Moritz on Tuesday, December 5. Of the resort's 72 lifts, just six were operating. Four were running on a massif called the Corvatsch -- a beginner platterpull beside the bot
tom station of the cable car, the first stage of the cable car below which three runs were open, a four-place bubble quad chairlift (top photo, right) serving two intermediate runs that come together to form one run and one T-bar on a short teaching slope. These runs are snowmaking-equipped, even on the glacier, so that when a spot had been scraped off, glacial ice showed through. Beside the runs were rocks, rocks and more rocks, plus tufts of grass and trees at lower elevations. The exhilaration of early-season skiing was tempered by the discouraging picture just off-trail.The skiing was marginal by most measures, but Alpine panoramas nevertheless are magnificent. So that visitors could enjoy the scenery, no matter what the snow conditions were like, the second stage of the cable car was operating only for foot passengers who wanted to enjoy the panora
ma of sun-kissed peaks stretched out to the horizon (middle photo, right) and lunch in the summit cafeteria or restaurant. A couple of lifts and runs -- even fewer than on the Corvatsch -- were also open on the Corviglia/Piz Nair, but I didn't ski there.It was pouring in St. Moritz on Wednesday, and hopeful skiers and boarders headed to the Corvatsch lusting for powder. There was snow, indeed. It was blinding, goggle-coating snow that helped the cover but wasn't a lot of run to ski in. And in the end, it didn't seem to make a difference in the amount of terrain that was deemed skiable.
The next stop was across the border in Livigno, Italy, reached by a one-lane tunnel thro
ugh the mountains. Of the 33 lifts, three were operating, one short surface lift and two chairlifts, betweem them serving two very modest ribbons of snow (bottom photo, right) laid down down on a sloping meadow just off the village's main drag. So much snowmaking effort had resulted in so little cover that it was not even possible to ski between the loading areas of the two lifts, which are just steps apart. There was also a small moving carpet for children at the bottom of the easiest of the two runs, but I don't know whether that is counted in the census of 33. The cover was so pathetic that skiing was free.Many people who come to Livigno at this time of year are because they are Milanese who come for the duty-free shopping and don't care whether or not there is snow. The long, thin town has charming little hotels and guest houses, restaurants and shops, the vast majority of which sell the same brands of tobacco products, cosmetics, perfumes and booze. It's a little like a cross between a quaint Alpine village and an international airport terminal.
The last stop on Thursday, December 7 was St. Anton-am-Arlberg, Austria, the brightest star in a fabled galaxy of resorts that had hoped to crank up its lifts the following day. It's now the 9th, and according to the slope reports on St. Anton's website, nothing is running yet.
Hoteliers and resort officials publicly say that "it's still early" and speak optimistically about the season's snow prospects, but there are clouds of doubt in their eyes even as they try to put a good spin on the gloomy situation. BBC World ran a feature while I was there indicating that every year for the past 15 has been warmer than the previous one in western Europe, and that this fall has been the warmest in something like 1,300 years, according to an austrian meteorologist named Reinhard Boehm. Other reports, including a wire-service story that appeared in Ski Racing, confirm the same thing.
The U.S. Rockies also experienced an unseasonably warm, dry fall, but snowfall has been sufficient since late November to launch the ski season with enough cover. The Alps might get snow any day now (though the forecast is not encouraging), and the West could experience fewer storms after a good start. I'm rooting for good snow everywhere. I love Baobab Expeditions' concept and just hope there's enough snow in the Alps to give it a good shot at succeeding.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
No Snow, but a Perfect Hotel
There is still no snow to speak of in the Alps, though it might be snowing at higher elevations even as I write this. In the valleys, however, all is wet and gray, including here in rainy St. Moritz, Switzerland. The community has pre-emptively canceled World Cup ski races scheduled for December 9-10, because even if it starts snowing very soon, it is impossible to assure enough cover and prepare the course for World Cup specifications.
I am consoling myself by hunkering down in the warm and welcoming -- and very historic -- Badrutt's Palace. The Badrutt family entered in hotel business in 1856 when Johannes Badrutt established the Engadiner Kulm Hotel (still operating as the Kulm Hotel). His son Casper founded the Palace in 1864, and that winter, Johannes lured the first group of winter tourists to St. Moritz, launching winter tourism to the mountains. The present Palace was opened in 1896, and it has been expanded and refined ever since.
I view the Palace as a perfect hotel for myriad reasons: location, views, architecture, furnishings and above all, impeccable service that is correct and formal but not stuffy. Perfection comes at a price, but in this low season, the price is not off the charts. Still, one thing that I especially admire is that Badrutt's Palace does not nickel-and-dime those guests who are already paying top dollar, as those who will arrive soon for the Christmas-New Year peak season will be.
I am writing this from my laptop plugged into the hotel's free high-speed Internet connection in each room. I don't even need and adapter, because in addition to the regulation Swiss outlets, one accepts North American plugs. I am sipping mineral water from the complimentary mini-bar. Beside me, the plasma TV is tuned to CNN, but I could be watching a pay film without having to pay. The hotel's fleet shuttles guests to the railroad station, the local heliport and even the lifts (or golf course in summer). Many multi-starred hotels do offer such services but with added charges for each one.
Down pillows and comforters, high-thread-count sheets and large, fluffy towels enhance the poshness in each guest room. And the amenities -- the soaps, shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and lotion -- are custom blended for the Palace and packaged in generous jars, not the smaller ones that hotels normally favor.
Of course, there are the usual facilities that ultra-luxe hotels also offer -- spa, pool, multiple restaurants, lounges, lavish buffet breakfast, room service, high-end shops, twice-daily housekeeping -- but it is the total package of complimentary and pay services, plus an excellent staff, that sets Badrutt's Palace above luxury most hotels.
The next time I am in a US hotel or motor inn that makes a big deal of offering free HBO, WiFi or a lousy breakfast served on styrofoam with plastic utensils, I will think back to my stay at Badrutt's and remember how it is here, in this perfect hotel.
I am consoling myself by hunkering down in the warm and welcoming -- and very historic -- Badrutt's Palace. The Badrutt family entered in hotel business in 1856 when Johannes Badrutt established the Engadiner Kulm Hotel (still operating as the Kulm Hotel). His son Casper founded the Palace in 1864, and that winter, Johannes lured the first group of winter tourists to St. Moritz, launching winter tourism to the mountains. The present Palace was opened in 1896, and it has been expanded and refined ever since.
I view the Palace as a perfect hotel for myriad reasons: location, views, architecture, furnishings and above all, impeccable service that is correct and formal but not stuffy. Perfection comes at a price, but in this low season, the price is not off the charts. Still, one thing that I especially admire is that Badrutt's Palace does not nickel-and-dime those guests who are already paying top dollar, as those who will arrive soon for the Christmas-New Year peak season will be.
I am writing this from my laptop plugged into the hotel's free high-speed Internet connection in each room. I don't even need and adapter, because in addition to the regulation Swiss outlets, one accepts North American plugs. I am sipping mineral water from the complimentary mini-bar. Beside me, the plasma TV is tuned to CNN, but I could be watching a pay film without having to pay. The hotel's fleet shuttles guests to the railroad station, the local heliport and even the lifts (or golf course in summer). Many multi-starred hotels do offer such services but with added charges for each one.
Down pillows and comforters, high-thread-count sheets and large, fluffy towels enhance the poshness in each guest room. And the amenities -- the soaps, shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and lotion -- are custom blended for the Palace and packaged in generous jars, not the smaller ones that hotels normally favor.
Of course, there are the usual facilities that ultra-luxe hotels also offer -- spa, pool, multiple restaurants, lounges, lavish buffet breakfast, room service, high-end shops, twice-daily housekeeping -- but it is the total package of complimentary and pay services, plus an excellent staff, that sets Badrutt's Palace above luxury most hotels.
The next time I am in a US hotel or motor inn that makes a big deal of offering free HBO, WiFi or a lousy breakfast served on styrofoam with plastic utensils, I will think back to my stay at Badrutt's and remember how it is here, in this perfect hotel.
Monday, December 4, 2006
Small Expenses Add Up
I am now in Switzerland, having flown here on American Airlines from Denver via Dallas/Fort Worth. My tried-and-true transatlantic strategy for avoiding jet lag is to plug my noise-canceling headphones into the airliner's sound system and select a soothing classical music station, have a couple of glasses of wine, and go to sleep so that I arrive in Europe in relatively good shape.
Small expense #1 - In contrast to every foreign flag carrier that I have flown in recent years, American charges $5 for each split of very mediocre chardonnay. But I consider it medicinal for travel and jet lag avoidance, so I did pay up. American's sound system has a lot of talk and a lot of music with lyrics. Not my first choice, but I did manage a few hours' sleep. A corollary to this small expense is that American also charges $2 for the flimsy headphones on domestic flights, though they are now free on most US carriers. That's a purchase, not a rental, but I can't imagine using them again -- once you've tried the comfy noise-canceling ones.
Small expense #2 - At Zurich's Hotel Eden au Lac, I met a group who had spent the night there for the drive to St. Moritz. I bought a 30-minute LAN Public Wireless card to enable me to update check my E-mail and do some work. The fancy hotel's front desk sold it to me for Sfr. 9, in contrast to the Sfr. 5 cost if getting the access code on-line.
Neither of these is a bank-breaking cost, but for anyone on a tight budget -- especially in these days of the weak dollar -- $2 here, $5 there, $10 someplace else can add up.
Small expense #1 - In contrast to every foreign flag carrier that I have flown in recent years, American charges $5 for each split of very mediocre chardonnay. But I consider it medicinal for travel and jet lag avoidance, so I did pay up. American's sound system has a lot of talk and a lot of music with lyrics. Not my first choice, but I did manage a few hours' sleep. A corollary to this small expense is that American also charges $2 for the flimsy headphones on domestic flights, though they are now free on most US carriers. That's a purchase, not a rental, but I can't imagine using them again -- once you've tried the comfy noise-canceling ones.
Small expense #2 - At Zurich's Hotel Eden au Lac, I met a group who had spent the night there for the drive to St. Moritz. I bought a 30-minute LAN Public Wireless card to enable me to update check my E-mail and do some work. The fancy hotel's front desk sold it to me for Sfr. 9, in contrast to the Sfr. 5 cost if getting the access code on-line.
Neither of these is a bank-breaking cost, but for anyone on a tight budget -- especially in these days of the weak dollar -- $2 here, $5 there, $10 someplace else can add up.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
More Flyers. Fewer Flights. Less Food. No Secret.
In the first three months of 2006, US domestic airlines flew 176.1 million passengers, according to the federal Bureau of Transportation Statistics, an increase of 0.3 percent over the previous year. These passengers nevertheless boarded 4.1 percent fewer flights than during the first quarter of 2005. Also, during this period, airlines' cumulative load factors increased from 80 to 81.2 percent and average trip length increased from 678 to 701 miles. This means either more planes, more crowded planes, or a combination.
On the so-called service side, according to the Air Transport Association, US carriers spent $444 million on beverages and the cookies and salty snacks that now comprise back-cabin food service and something more than that for the fortunate few in the front. That compares with the $662 million the airlines spent to feed and water their passengers six years ago.
Bottom line seems to be that more people are flying more crowded planes, eating and drinking less, and staying in the air longer. It might be good. It might be good. Or it might just be, so when you're ready to fly, deal with it.
On the so-called service side, according to the Air Transport Association, US carriers spent $444 million on beverages and the cookies and salty snacks that now comprise back-cabin food service and something more than that for the fortunate few in the front. That compares with the $662 million the airlines spent to feed and water their passengers six years ago.
Bottom line seems to be that more people are flying more crowded planes, eating and drinking less, and staying in the air longer. It might be good. It might be good. Or it might just be, so when you're ready to fly, deal with it.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Snow and No-Snow Report
This post is aimed squarely at the snow-loving readers of this blog in Europe (WHERE THERE IS NO SNOW) and in New England (WHERE THERE IS VERY LITTLE SNOW). If you are contemplating a pre-Christmas (or even Christmas) ski trip, come to the Rockies, which are wallowing in white. I live 25 miles from Denver, at the (relatively) low elevation of 5,400 feet. On my deck are 15 inches of cloud-light snow. Colorado ski resorts have snared more than 100 inches of snowfall already, and it is still November. See the enticing photo from Steamboat (right), taken by Larry Pierce a few days ago. Utah, the northern Rockies and the Cascades are similarly buried. Even the southern Rockies, which limped through last winter with subpar snowfall, have benefited from major dumps already -- the first as early as September 22.
In Europe, as I said, THERE IS NO SNOW. In Austria, Italy and Switzerland, only a few lifts on high glaciers are running. The French Alps are marginally better, with a handful of lifts serving a handful of slopes at less than a handful of resorts. The valleys are bare. The villages are sad and empty -- in itself no surprise, since Europeans don't celebrate a holiday in late November that traditionally kicks off the ski season. Mountain cams show dustings on high Alpine peaks, but nothing appears skiable, and the lifts are not operating. Many resorts that try to have a decent number of lifts operating in early December have indefinitely postponed their openings. The International Ski Federation, which sanctions international
ski races, has already canceled Alpine, cross-country and snowboarding competitions all over Europe at least through December 9 because THERE IS NO SNOW IN THE ALPS or Scandinavia. One of the resorts to loose its World Cup races this weekend is St. Moritz, Switzerland (photo left taken early today the Piz Nair summit). Meanwhile, yesterday's training for this weekend's men's downhill race at Beaver Creek, CO, was also canceled -- because there was too much snow. Racers need hard, icy courses. I'm going to guess that the teams took the day off and went powder skiing, a rare treat for these elite athletes.
Alas, I am leaving snowy Colorado on Saturday for Europe WHERE THERE IS NO SNOW. The tour operator arranging this trip won't cancel or postpone it. I'm planning to take some good books, my workout clothes, my hiking boots and sunscreen. Stay tuned. I'll report from the trip. And meanwhile, if you are planning your own ski trip for the near future, come to the Rockies.
In Europe, as I said, THERE IS NO SNOW. In Austria, Italy and Switzerland, only a few lifts on high glaciers are running. The French Alps are marginally better, with a handful of lifts serving a handful of slopes at less than a handful of resorts. The valleys are bare. The villages are sad and empty -- in itself no surprise, since Europeans don't celebrate a holiday in late November that traditionally kicks off the ski season. Mountain cams show dustings on high Alpine peaks, but nothing appears skiable, and the lifts are not operating. Many resorts that try to have a decent number of lifts operating in early December have indefinitely postponed their openings. The International Ski Federation, which sanctions international
ski races, has already canceled Alpine, cross-country and snowboarding competitions all over Europe at least through December 9 because THERE IS NO SNOW IN THE ALPS or Scandinavia. One of the resorts to loose its World Cup races this weekend is St. Moritz, Switzerland (photo left taken early today the Piz Nair summit). Meanwhile, yesterday's training for this weekend's men's downhill race at Beaver Creek, CO, was also canceled -- because there was too much snow. Racers need hard, icy courses. I'm going to guess that the teams took the day off and went powder skiing, a rare treat for these elite athletes.Alas, I am leaving snowy Colorado on Saturday for Europe WHERE THERE IS NO SNOW. The tour operator arranging this trip won't cancel or postpone it. I'm planning to take some good books, my workout clothes, my hiking boots and sunscreen. Stay tuned. I'll report from the trip. And meanwhile, if you are planning your own ski trip for the near future, come to the Rockies.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Light-Hearted Presentation About Serious Matters
The more I travel, the more I feel both the interconnectedness and apartness of various parts of the world and its people. Cultures are so vastly different that people and their ways seem incredibly far apart -- sometimes exotic and appealing, sometimes unfamiliar and threatening. Yet with air travel and global communications, we are linked more tightly than ever before. I fervently hope that we can learn to treat our planet and each other more gently. Headlines are scary these days, but if we all could live our lives a little more like this cute wombat suggests at
http://www.globalcommunity.org/flash/wombat.shtml, the world would be a better, calmer place -- and we could revel in trying to understand each others' differences and not feel threatened by them. And the Earth itself would be cleaner and more beautiful.
http://www.globalcommunity.org/flash/wombat.shtml, the world would be a better, calmer place -- and we could revel in trying to understand each others' differences and not feel threatened by them. And the Earth itself would be cleaner and more beautiful.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
An Annual Day of Skiing Firsts
First day of the 2006-07 ski season. First turns on my new skis -- Dynastar Exclusives, part of the company's women's ski collection designed by women's gear guru Jeannie Thoren. First time skiing Snowmass in several years. First babble of anticipation in the lift line. First tracks across submerged rocks that the grooming machines had churned up, often barely under the snow. First blemishes on the P-tex of my new skis. First time waiting in the lift line for 15 minutes or more due to some unexplained mechnical delay. First bump run of the season. First afternoon of ultra-aching thighs. First apres-ski smiles knowing that the P-tex can be repaired, the thighs will stop hurting after a few more days on the boards and the ski resorts will get more terrain open as snow falls. Today, Snowmass had was running just two chairlifts and a beginner J-bar out of about of about two dozen accessing nine runs out of about a gazillion. And the smiles will only get broader.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
New Munich Flight to Land in Denver
Denver International Airport will soon become more international. Lufthansa, the national airline of Germany, will start Denver-Munich nonstop service on March 31, 2007, joining its existing Frankfurt-Denver nonstop. This is great news for travelers from Colorado and other states. To fly overseas, many of us in the middle of the country have to change planes -- and airports we are forced to use are incredibly delay-prone: Atlanta, #1 in delays; Chicago, #2; Dallas Fort/Worth #3; LAX, #4; Phoenix, #5; etc. These cities are are not only hubs for U.S. airlines with international service but also host foreign carriers. Denver actually ranks #7 on the FAA's list of airports with the most flight delays, but often the problem isn't home-grown but is caused largely by delays on the other end: either Denver-bound aircraft that can't take off or outbound aircraft asked to hold here.
Denver and Munich are a natural pairing. Both cities are not in the mountains but very close to the mountains. Both are vibrant cities with a young active population. Both, in the context of their respective countries, are beer capitals. And both have modern new airports out in the country, replacing older ones that were closer to the city but smaller and more congested. The one thing that Munich has that Denver does not have yet is a railroad station right at the airport.
A bit over two years ago, my husband and I flew to Munich to attend the wedding of a former exchange student at the University of Colorado. We planned to spend a few days in the city before the wedding, but arrived without reservations. We did the usual Europe: went to the information and reservations desk in the terminal to book a room. We requested a three-star hotel near the main railroad station (Hauptbahnhof). No problem. We had our Eurailpasses validated at the airport and boarded a train right there. Trains to the city depart every 20 minutes and reach the railroad station in 45 minutes and wheeled our bags around the corner to our hotel. That easy airport-city connection by rail remains something that we still look forward to here.
Denver and Munich are a natural pairing. Both cities are not in the mountains but very close to the mountains. Both are vibrant cities with a young active population. Both, in the context of their respective countries, are beer capitals. And both have modern new airports out in the country, replacing older ones that were closer to the city but smaller and more congested. The one thing that Munich has that Denver does not have yet is a railroad station right at the airport.
A bit over two years ago, my husband and I flew to Munich to attend the wedding of a former exchange student at the University of Colorado. We planned to spend a few days in the city before the wedding, but arrived without reservations. We did the usual Europe: went to the information and reservations desk in the terminal to book a room. We requested a three-star hotel near the main railroad station (Hauptbahnhof). No problem. We had our Eurailpasses validated at the airport and boarded a train right there. Trains to the city depart every 20 minutes and reach the railroad station in 45 minutes and wheeled our bags around the corner to our hotel. That easy airport-city connection by rail remains something that we still look forward to here.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Seven New Wonders
The creative powers at ABC-TV's "Good Morning, America" and USA Today, mindful that all but one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World have vanished, appointed a high-profile panel to come up with Seven New Wonders of the World that are relevant to travelers today. These have been broadcast and written about in print over the last week. I'm humbled by having experienced (or nearly experienced) all but one. The panelists' list:
- The Mayan pyramids of Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula, Guatemala, Honduras and Belize. The first one I ever visited was Chichen-Itza on the Yucatan Peninsula more than 25 years ago. In searing heat, I climbed the steep steps to the top of the great pyramid and marveled at the excavated city round me and the jungle beyond. Since then, I have been to Tulum, also on the Yucatan but fabulously situated on the coast, and to Copan in Honduras, which was still only partially excavated when my husband and I visited.
- The great semi-annual migration of millions of animals across Tanzania's Serengeti National Park. After climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro a decade ago, my family and I took a private photo safari into four Tanzian national parks, including the Serengeti. It was not migration season, but our wildlife sightings were among the most awe-inspiring experiences we have ever had. We saw thousands of lions, cheetahs, giraffes, wildebeests, zebras, elephants, baboons, and ungulates, birds and wild canines of various sorts. We stood on the overlook above the the Olduvai Gorge, where anthropologists Richard and Mary Leakey had discovered footprints of ancient homonids. As we gazed down from the viewing platform far from the digsite, the gorge itself looked as if it could have been in the Southwest, but knowing what it was made it special. The panelists mentioned the Olduvai Gorge as an ancillary wonder in Tanzania.
- The recently designated Northwestern Hawaiian Islands Marine National Monument made the list. Until I saw a Jean-Michel Cousteau television documentary on this remote archipelago shortly before the act was signed to protect it, I wasn't even aware of the existence of this 1,200-mile-long string of islands northwest of Oahu. I've been to Hawaii a number of times and never thought much about what might be out there "beyond" Kauai. Now it is the world's largest marine sanctuary. One of the panelists is renowned marine biologist, Dr. Sylvia Earle, so it's little wonder that this pristine marine sanctuary made the list.
- The polar ice caps, rightly described by USA Today both as "inhospitable" and as "astonishingly beautiful and incomprehensibly vast." The panelists also noted that their melting is yet another alarm about global warming. I have been to the Antarctic Peninsula during the austral summer, which isn't the same as seeing the ice cap itseself -- but I experienced fringes of the frozen continent, saw glaciers and icebergs and was enchanted by the stark and lonely beauty of the place.
- Old City Jerusalem was selected for its "central place in religious history and struggles for tolerance." The first Society of American Travel Writers annual convention I attended was in Israel in 1983. The struggles were evident even then, but so were the phenomenal beauty of the Old City and the special feeling I got from walking along ancient cobblestoned streets and visiting holy places of the three major Western religions. How I wish that the peaceful principles of all three were in effect rather than the turf wars fought in the name of all of these faiths.
- Tibet's Potala Palace is a commanding physical presence over the capital city of Lhasa and remains a symbolic and spiritual presence for the Buddhist community, even though the present Dalai Lama fled into exile in 1959 and remains separate from this holy place. I have been to China three times but never to Tibet. It's on the list.
- The Internet. The panelists said that the "Web redefines reality." By posting this, I am part of it, and by reading it, you are as well.
Of flights, flying and the TSA, Part Deux
On Nov. 5, I posted my thoughts about the Transportation Stupidity Agency on this blog. More recently, the far better-known and wa-a-a-ay more articulate Anna Quindlen wrote about the same thing in Newsweek. "Osama bin Laden could get through the line if the name on his license was the same as that on his ticket and he wasn't packing Oil of Olay," was the call-out subhead for her column.
She told of scooping half-an-ounce of face cream from a 3.5-ounce jar so that it wouldn't be confiscated. "Is this any way to run an airline?," she asked, articulating my complaints of just a few days ago. "Between constant delays and nonexistent services, flying has become the modern version of seafaring steerage accommodations. But nothing has made it seem worse than the long lines of bedraggled and beaten-down travelers at security checkpoints, pouring their change into plastic tubs, standing in stocking feet as their shoes are scanned, proffering zip-lock bags full of face creams and foundation."
And in a great leap to big-picture analysis that I never thought to post, she wrote: "This is not merely an inconvenience. The whole cockeyed system has become a symbol of the shortcomings of government programs and responses. It's expensive, arbitrary and infuriating; it turns low-wage line workers into petty despots. And instead of making Americans feel safer, its sheer silliness illuminates how impotent we are in the face of terrorism. The hustle and bustle at U.S. checkpoints is window dressing, another one of those rote, unthinking exercises that are the hallmark of bureaucracies, like 'Bleak House' with luggage."
Read her entire column at http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15562940/site/newsweek/ -- and don't forget your one-quart zip-lock bag when you head for the airport.
She told of scooping half-an-ounce of face cream from a 3.5-ounce jar so that it wouldn't be confiscated. "Is this any way to run an airline?," she asked, articulating my complaints of just a few days ago. "Between constant delays and nonexistent services, flying has become the modern version of seafaring steerage accommodations. But nothing has made it seem worse than the long lines of bedraggled and beaten-down travelers at security checkpoints, pouring their change into plastic tubs, standing in stocking feet as their shoes are scanned, proffering zip-lock bags full of face creams and foundation."
And in a great leap to big-picture analysis that I never thought to post, she wrote: "This is not merely an inconvenience. The whole cockeyed system has become a symbol of the shortcomings of government programs and responses. It's expensive, arbitrary and infuriating; it turns low-wage line workers into petty despots. And instead of making Americans feel safer, its sheer silliness illuminates how impotent we are in the face of terrorism. The hustle and bustle at U.S. checkpoints is window dressing, another one of those rote, unthinking exercises that are the hallmark of bureaucracies, like 'Bleak House' with luggage."
Read her entire column at http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15562940/site/newsweek/ -- and don't forget your one-quart zip-lock bag when you head for the airport.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Fare or Foul?
Money magazine is the latest purporting to let the travel public in on air fare secrets. Such articles are almost as ubiquitous as turkey recipes at this time of year. I don't know about you, but I certainly didn't learn anything new from that piece. It failed to mention www.priceline.com with its auction-style pricing and www.hotwire.com, which is ideal if you want a bargain fare, are willing to fly on their choice of carriers (sometimes with a change of planes), and aren't fussy about the time of day you fly (often meaning an early-morning departure). Also, I've often found the best deals on the airlines' own websites, which sometimes also give bonus miles -- not trivial if you are trying to stack up mileage on a particular airline for a business class ticket to that dream destination.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Perfect Places
The lead sentence of today's New York Times "36 Hours" Friday travel feature reads: "A boarding pass to Sydney should come with a warning label: Beware, this city will have you questioning the quality of life in your hometown. Sydney has managed to skim the best parts of other cities and swirl them into a perfect blend of urban bliss." The author goes on to extoll the beauty of the city, the cultural life, the nightlife, the gallery scene, the bars, the beaches and even the zoo.
I visited Sydney years ago, and while it wasn't as cool then as it has become, I had much of the same impression.
Ironically, just yesterday I cyber-stumbled upon a travel feature about Boulder, where I live, written by Kansas City Star travel editor Alan Holder. He hung out at the Pearl Street Mall, wrote about the city's natural beauty, sportiness, recreational opportunities and commitment to the environment. "Is Boulder too perfect?" he asked rhetorically.
It got me to re-appreciating the place that I live. When we host out-of-town guests, I see it through their eyes, but between guests, I enjoy Boulder's attributes but admittedly take them from granted. Holder quoted Richard Polk, city council member and owner of the Pedestrian Shop, as saying, “The thing about Boulder is, if you’re lucky enough to live here, you’re lucky enough to live here.” Travel remains both a passion and a profession for me, but sometimes, I can get the same rush of being someplace special just by walking out of my door and looking at my city as others see it.
I visited Sydney years ago, and while it wasn't as cool then as it has become, I had much of the same impression.
Ironically, just yesterday I cyber-stumbled upon a travel feature about Boulder, where I live, written by Kansas City Star travel editor Alan Holder. He hung out at the Pearl Street Mall, wrote about the city's natural beauty, sportiness, recreational opportunities and commitment to the environment. "Is Boulder too perfect?" he asked rhetorically.
It got me to re-appreciating the place that I live. When we host out-of-town guests, I see it through their eyes, but between guests, I enjoy Boulder's attributes but admittedly take them from granted. Holder quoted Richard Polk, city council member and owner of the Pedestrian Shop, as saying, “The thing about Boulder is, if you’re lucky enough to live here, you’re lucky enough to live here.” Travel remains both a passion and a profession for me, but sometimes, I can get the same rush of being someplace special just by walking out of my door and looking at my city as others see it.
Sunday, November 5, 2006
Of flights, flying and the TSA
It may be a long way to Tipperary, but it's even longer from Colorado to Chile. We flew American Airlines via Los Angeles International Airport, with a five-hour layover in each direction, and then LAN Chile to Santiago, with a brief stop in Lima. Each LAX-SCL flight is overnight-plus. We also flew from Santiago to and from Punta Arenas on the southern tip of Chile and to and from Easter Island. I can hardly wait to see how many AAdvantage miles I accumulated!
Going through security at LAX for the LAN Chile flight provided a fine example of the Transportation Stupidity Agency at work. Assured that he could take it through security check, the fellow in line in front of us had bought a small (under 3 ounces) sealed jar of some moisturizing cream at one of the duty-free shops in the terminal. The TSA screener would not let him put that single item in the plastic bin with his belt, keys, coins and shoes. "It has to go into a one-quart zip-lock bag," the screener told the traveler guy. Traveler: "I don't have one. Where can get one?" TSA guy: "I don't know. We don't sell them. I don't care where you get it, but you have to have one." This back-and-forth went on a while. We interjected and asked if he could put his jar into our one-quart zip-lock bag to send it through X-ray. That evidently didn't violate any TSA regulations. The passenger was grateful, at that point the TSA guy no longer cared, and we were left shaking our heads.
Today's Denver Post features a front-page story about a new TSA policy that prohibits air-traffic controllers from leaving the tower during a meal break unless they use accumulated personal time. "They have to stay in the 327-foot tower...where their menu choices are a bit limited. Just like airline passengers, controllers can't bring liquids or semi-solid food items through security checkpoints," wrote reporter Jeffrey Lieb. He also quoted the president of the National Air Traffic Controllers Assn. as calling it "lockdown cafe." Now, don't you wonder how this policy will affect the morale of people holding stressful jobs?
In Chile (and in New Zealand, where I was in august), passengers are permitted to walk through metal detectors with their shoes and jackets on, to bring bottled water aboard and to have such items as any size of toothpaste, hand cream and cosmetics in their carry-ons. In fact, the airport in Santiago has kiosks where people can, for a fee, have individual pieces of luggage shrink-wrapped. Here, the TSA's no-locks policy sets checked baggage up for pilferage. I just heard from a travel writer colleague who had some $700 worth of items stolen from his luggage on a Continental flight from Trinidad to Denver via Houston. Not likely to happen in Chile or elsewhere, where bags may be locked and even wrapped in clear plastic.
Aside security issue and bizarre regulations is the disappearance of anything resembling pleasant travel. Long flights that board in or are destined for the US have become airborne tubes crammed full of crabby, hungry, thirsty, smelly travelers, to say nothing of the foot odor assaults at security checkpoints because of the TSA's shoes-off policy. None of this makes me feel any "safer." How about you?
Going through security at LAX for the LAN Chile flight provided a fine example of the Transportation Stupidity Agency at work. Assured that he could take it through security check, the fellow in line in front of us had bought a small (under 3 ounces) sealed jar of some moisturizing cream at one of the duty-free shops in the terminal. The TSA screener would not let him put that single item in the plastic bin with his belt, keys, coins and shoes. "It has to go into a one-quart zip-lock bag," the screener told the traveler guy. Traveler: "I don't have one. Where can get one?" TSA guy: "I don't know. We don't sell them. I don't care where you get it, but you have to have one." This back-and-forth went on a while. We interjected and asked if he could put his jar into our one-quart zip-lock bag to send it through X-ray. That evidently didn't violate any TSA regulations. The passenger was grateful, at that point the TSA guy no longer cared, and we were left shaking our heads.
Today's Denver Post features a front-page story about a new TSA policy that prohibits air-traffic controllers from leaving the tower during a meal break unless they use accumulated personal time. "They have to stay in the 327-foot tower...where their menu choices are a bit limited. Just like airline passengers, controllers can't bring liquids or semi-solid food items through security checkpoints," wrote reporter Jeffrey Lieb. He also quoted the president of the National Air Traffic Controllers Assn. as calling it "lockdown cafe." Now, don't you wonder how this policy will affect the morale of people holding stressful jobs?
In Chile (and in New Zealand, where I was in august), passengers are permitted to walk through metal detectors with their shoes and jackets on, to bring bottled water aboard and to have such items as any size of toothpaste, hand cream and cosmetics in their carry-ons. In fact, the airport in Santiago has kiosks where people can, for a fee, have individual pieces of luggage shrink-wrapped. Here, the TSA's no-locks policy sets checked baggage up for pilferage. I just heard from a travel writer colleague who had some $700 worth of items stolen from his luggage on a Continental flight from Trinidad to Denver via Houston. Not likely to happen in Chile or elsewhere, where bags may be locked and even wrapped in clear plastic.
Aside security issue and bizarre regulations is the disappearance of anything resembling pleasant travel. Long flights that board in or are destined for the US have become airborne tubes crammed full of crabby, hungry, thirsty, smelly travelers, to say nothing of the foot odor assaults at security checkpoints because of the TSA's shoes-off policy. None of this makes me feel any "safer." How about you?
Saturday, November 4, 2006
Easter Island
Way out in the Pacific, 3,700 kilometers or about 2,300 miles from mainland Chile, lies Easter Island -- Isla de Pascua in Spanish and Rapa Nui in the increasingly accepted language of Polynesia. It it is the island to which Thor Heyerdahl sailed on the raft 'Kon-Tiki' and which was first reached by airplane from the mainland in 1951. Bottom line is that Rapa Nui remains remote and also mysterious.
It is, however, an increasingly popular tourist destination. Seasoned travelers who have been many other places and seen many other things are drawn to the island's moai, towering figures carved from volcanic stone, moved to the shoreline and erected, in great feats of engineering for pre-industrial people, on lava-rock platforms (ahu) to guard their respective villages. Rapa Nui National Park is unsurprisingly a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Of the 887 known moai, 288 were set upon platforms, 98 fell or were abandoned and 397 were unfinished and still stand or lie in the Rano Rotaku quarry. I don't know where the rest are or their condition -- and I'm not sure that archaeologists do either. Some moai feature topknots of a red stone called scoria from the smaller Puna Pau quarry. The moai are tall (average, about 13 feet) and heavy (12.5 tons). They faced inland rather than toward the sea, because inhabitants were each others' foes. They were meant to be seen from the carved front, and each one has a different face -- much like the terracotta army in Xi'an, China. The moais' backs are flat -- by necessity because they were carved while lying on the ground. Archaeologists have restored some sites. Others remain primitive.
On the island's northeast coast is "the navel of the world," a round, squat black rock with four smaller sit-upon rocks around it. People hunker there to meditate, contemplate, commune with spirits, admire the view or wonder why compasses swing around madly when near the rock.
The spectacular and mesmerizing south coast is worthwhile for watching and photographing the big South Pacific rollers roiling and boiling and crashing onto the black coastal cliffs. The island was once heavily treed, but now the vegetation is largely grass. Stands of introduced eucalyptus grow where once there were palm species.
An unpaved road climbs to the top of Maunga Pu A Tiki, a dormant volcano in whose water-filled crater rafts of vegetation float like little islands. Beyond, at the tip of Poike Peninsula is a curious seasonal colony where Easter Islanders, long after the days of the moai-carvers, lived while they selected their annual leader. The bizarre ritual involved deputizing someone to swim to a nearby rock and find the first egg laid that spring by a particular bird. The leader selected in this strange way lived like a hermit during his rule. Visit yourself and hear the whole strange tale, but also know that the missionaries put an end to it. Rapa Nui is now enthusiastically Catholic, and visitors are invited to the exuberant, music-heavy Mass at the church in Honga Roa. The church is packed every Sunday, beginning at 9:00 a.m.
Honga Roa is, in fact, the island's only town. Accommodations range from simple hostels to the luxurious Explora Lodge, currently located in a leased private vacation retreat but with plans to build a new property in the next couple of years. Numerous restaurants and abundant shops are scattered along the town's streets. Consider signs with posted opening hours to be guidelines.
Whether you are looking for fine crafts or mass-produced souvenirs, you'll find them in many small shops and in two multi-stall crafts markets, one on Tu'u Kohinu (one block to the left of the church) and one that is half crafts market and half produce market at the corner of Tu'u Maheke and Atamu Tekena. Prices vary, so shop around. Don't be afraid to bargain, especially if you are buying several items, but don't expect huge price breaks either.
The greatest variation was for what appears to be the only English guidebook to the island, Rapa Nui by Daniel Pardon . We found it at the archaeological museum for more than US$70. Gasp! That is high even for a glossy four-color job, but for that money, there should be an index. We bought it anyway because we were driving around and wanted it for the road. Later, a colleague reported that she had bought it for a few dollars more at a shop in town, but as we were leaving, we spotted it at an airport shop for about half the price. Moral: Try to pick it up on arrival -- unless, of course, the prices at various venues have changed.
In the souvenir realm, I found placemats (choice of colors, choice of moai or a still undeciphered writing called rororongo) for as little as ARG$2,000 (US$4) and as much as ARG$5,000 ($10), and small wooden rororongo reproductions in the ARG$25,000 to ARG$35,000 range in town, but for ARG$7,500 at the airport. You have several last chances to shop at the airport. There's a new brick building with several stalls across from the terminal, numerous stalls in the terminal outside of the security area or in one of several more stalls after the security checkpoint. Abundant, of course, are moai of stone, wood or molded plastic in various sizes and configurations.
The archaeological museum on the outskirts of town is more interpretive than anything else. Relatively few artifacts are on display, but 20,000 are in storage pending money to build a larger building and guard the artifacts. The town cemetery is worth a visit too. There is one ATM on a street called Tu'u Maheke. It currently dispenses cash only to MasterCard holders, but other businesses take other cards as well. The post office is one block over on Te Pito Te Henua. For ARG$1,000 (a little more than US$2), the clerk will stamp your passport with three Easter Island stamps. Scuba divers rave about the clarity of the water. Several dive shops located at the harbor use simple open fishing boats for their dive trips.
Easter Island is open range. Cattle and horses wander all over the countryside, depositing their droppings wherever. Similarly, dogs, cats and even chickens wander around town. They are uncollared but also unmenacing. In town, the streets have been paved but the sidewalks remain hazardous with cracks, gaping holes and some concrete slabs missing and storm drains exposed, so do look where you are stepping -- whether to skirt sidewalk obstacles or just to avoid the unpleasantness of animal droppings.
The moai deserve more time than most bus and van tours permit, so renting is recommended. Rentals for small 4WD cars are surprisingly reasonable, and gas isn't too expensive either. Roads from Hanga Roa directly to the most popular sites are paved, but others are not. Tourists on organized tours are never out and about during the fine dawn and dusk light, and the quarry where the majority of moai are found is not included in most tours but is quickly offered for $40 extra. If you take such a tour, cough up the 40, because the quarry should not be missed.
It is, however, an increasingly popular tourist destination. Seasoned travelers who have been many other places and seen many other things are drawn to the island's moai, towering figures carved from volcanic stone, moved to the shoreline and erected, in great feats of engineering for pre-industrial people, on lava-rock platforms (ahu) to guard their respective villages. Rapa Nui National Park is unsurprisingly a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Of the 887 known moai, 288 were set upon platforms, 98 fell or were abandoned and 397 were unfinished and still stand or lie in the Rano Rotaku quarry. I don't know where the rest are or their condition -- and I'm not sure that archaeologists do either. Some moai feature topknots of a red stone called scoria from the smaller Puna Pau quarry. The moai are tall (average, about 13 feet) and heavy (12.5 tons). They faced inland rather than toward the sea, because inhabitants were each others' foes. They were meant to be seen from the carved front, and each one has a different face -- much like the terracotta army in Xi'an, China. The moais' backs are flat -- by necessity because they were carved while lying on the ground. Archaeologists have restored some sites. Others remain primitive.
On the island's northeast coast is "the navel of the world," a round, squat black rock with four smaller sit-upon rocks around it. People hunker there to meditate, contemplate, commune with spirits, admire the view or wonder why compasses swing around madly when near the rock.
The spectacular and mesmerizing south coast is worthwhile for watching and photographing the big South Pacific rollers roiling and boiling and crashing onto the black coastal cliffs. The island was once heavily treed, but now the vegetation is largely grass. Stands of introduced eucalyptus grow where once there were palm species.
An unpaved road climbs to the top of Maunga Pu A Tiki, a dormant volcano in whose water-filled crater rafts of vegetation float like little islands. Beyond, at the tip of Poike Peninsula is a curious seasonal colony where Easter Islanders, long after the days of the moai-carvers, lived while they selected their annual leader. The bizarre ritual involved deputizing someone to swim to a nearby rock and find the first egg laid that spring by a particular bird. The leader selected in this strange way lived like a hermit during his rule. Visit yourself and hear the whole strange tale, but also know that the missionaries put an end to it. Rapa Nui is now enthusiastically Catholic, and visitors are invited to the exuberant, music-heavy Mass at the church in Honga Roa. The church is packed every Sunday, beginning at 9:00 a.m.
Honga Roa is, in fact, the island's only town. Accommodations range from simple hostels to the luxurious Explora Lodge, currently located in a leased private vacation retreat but with plans to build a new property in the next couple of years. Numerous restaurants and abundant shops are scattered along the town's streets. Consider signs with posted opening hours to be guidelines.
Whether you are looking for fine crafts or mass-produced souvenirs, you'll find them in many small shops and in two multi-stall crafts markets, one on Tu'u Kohinu (one block to the left of the church) and one that is half crafts market and half produce market at the corner of Tu'u Maheke and Atamu Tekena. Prices vary, so shop around. Don't be afraid to bargain, especially if you are buying several items, but don't expect huge price breaks either.
The greatest variation was for what appears to be the only English guidebook to the island, Rapa Nui by Daniel Pardon . We found it at the archaeological museum for more than US$70. Gasp! That is high even for a glossy four-color job, but for that money, there should be an index. We bought it anyway because we were driving around and wanted it for the road. Later, a colleague reported that she had bought it for a few dollars more at a shop in town, but as we were leaving, we spotted it at an airport shop for about half the price. Moral: Try to pick it up on arrival -- unless, of course, the prices at various venues have changed.
In the souvenir realm, I found placemats (choice of colors, choice of moai or a still undeciphered writing called rororongo) for as little as ARG$2,000 (US$4) and as much as ARG$5,000 ($10), and small wooden rororongo reproductions in the ARG$25,000 to ARG$35,000 range in town, but for ARG$7,500 at the airport. You have several last chances to shop at the airport. There's a new brick building with several stalls across from the terminal, numerous stalls in the terminal outside of the security area or in one of several more stalls after the security checkpoint. Abundant, of course, are moai of stone, wood or molded plastic in various sizes and configurations.
The archaeological museum on the outskirts of town is more interpretive than anything else. Relatively few artifacts are on display, but 20,000 are in storage pending money to build a larger building and guard the artifacts. The town cemetery is worth a visit too. There is one ATM on a street called Tu'u Maheke. It currently dispenses cash only to MasterCard holders, but other businesses take other cards as well. The post office is one block over on Te Pito Te Henua. For ARG$1,000 (a little more than US$2), the clerk will stamp your passport with three Easter Island stamps. Scuba divers rave about the clarity of the water. Several dive shops located at the harbor use simple open fishing boats for their dive trips.
Easter Island is open range. Cattle and horses wander all over the countryside, depositing their droppings wherever. Similarly, dogs, cats and even chickens wander around town. They are uncollared but also unmenacing. In town, the streets have been paved but the sidewalks remain hazardous with cracks, gaping holes and some concrete slabs missing and storm drains exposed, so do look where you are stepping -- whether to skirt sidewalk obstacles or just to avoid the unpleasantness of animal droppings.
The moai deserve more time than most bus and van tours permit, so renting is recommended. Rentals for small 4WD cars are surprisingly reasonable, and gas isn't too expensive either. Roads from Hanga Roa directly to the most popular sites are paved, but others are not. Tourists on organized tours are never out and about during the fine dawn and dusk light, and the quarry where the majority of moai are found is not included in most tours but is quickly offered for $40 extra. If you take such a tour, cough up the 40, because the quarry should not be missed.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Between a rock and a hard place
Writing from Santiago, a brief stop between the rock (the Torres del Paine, a trio of soaring granite towers in the eponymous national park, a designated World Biosphere Reserve, in Patagonia) and a hard place (Easter Island, with its monumental stone figures of mysterious creation). First Internet access in days, and perhaps the only computer I'll touch for several days more.
We were welcomed to Patagonia with howling (and not atypical) winds that blow strongly from Antarctica each spring. The weather pattern has something to do with the seasonal break-up of the Antarctic ice shelf and how it affects winds. We traveled from Puerto Natales on mostly paved roads (being widened into a divided four-laner as far as Cerro Castillo) and then drove deep to the park along largely unpaved roads. In all, the area largely resembles central Nevada, with big valleys set against distant mountains and lots of grazing sheep in the foreground.
In the park, we stayed in an insulated, but unheated and unelectrified dome in Eco-Camp Patagonia just below the Towers themselves -- simple accommodations and simply magnificent scenery, but not a lot of fun walking along boardwalks to the bathroom/shower tent in the wind.
The first day was spent riding between touch-and-go attractions: a fabulous waterfall just a short stroll from a parking area but a formidable walk beating against the wind, and a wild boat ride to pristine, triple-headed glacier at the head of head of a lake called Lago Grey. We donned lifejackets and walked to the end of a pier, where we boarded a small open craft that transported us over bouncing waves to the 'Grey II,' the tour boat.
For an hour, we motored into the wind and waves. Each wave crashed over the bow and the well-sealed windows. In the sheltered lee of the glacier, the boat stopped rocking and rolling long enough for the crew to serve pisco sours, allegedly made with glacial ice. One wit on the boat said, "If I ever want to recapture this experience, I'll make myself a pisco sour and drive through the car wash."
The following morning -- our last full day in the park -- we went on long hike for a close-up view of the iconic Torres del Paine themselves. Eleven miles, plus the 1.5 kilometers each way between the Eco-Camp and the trailhead. We walked down the hill from the Eco-Camp and crossed a broad meadow where the Hosteria Las Torres (campground and resort) is located. We crossed a bridge over the Rio Ascencio, whose valley we would follow for the next 6.2 kilometers (about 4 miles). This modest river carved an impressive canyon. The first part of the trail parallels the river but high up the canyon walls. Much of it is steep, and in parts are deep troughs from horses hooves.
We were welcomed to Patagonia with howling (and not atypical) winds that blow strongly from Antarctica each spring. The weather pattern has something to do with the seasonal break-up of the Antarctic ice shelf and how it affects winds. We traveled from Puerto Natales on mostly paved roads (being widened into a divided four-laner as far as Cerro Castillo) and then drove deep to the park along largely unpaved roads. In all, the area largely resembles central Nevada, with big valleys set against distant mountains and lots of grazing sheep in the foreground.
In the park, we stayed in an insulated, but unheated and unelectrified dome in Eco-Camp Patagonia just below the Towers themselves -- simple accommodations and simply magnificent scenery, but not a lot of fun walking along boardwalks to the bathroom/shower tent in the wind.
The first day was spent riding between touch-and-go attractions: a fabulous waterfall just a short stroll from a parking area but a formidable walk beating against the wind, and a wild boat ride to pristine, triple-headed glacier at the head of head of a lake called Lago Grey. We donned lifejackets and walked to the end of a pier, where we boarded a small open craft that transported us over bouncing waves to the 'Grey II,' the tour boat.
For an hour, we motored into the wind and waves. Each wave crashed over the bow and the well-sealed windows. In the sheltered lee of the glacier, the boat stopped rocking and rolling long enough for the crew to serve pisco sours, allegedly made with glacial ice. One wit on the boat said, "If I ever want to recapture this experience, I'll make myself a pisco sour and drive through the car wash."
The following morning -- our last full day in the park -- we went on long hike for a close-up view of the iconic Torres del Paine themselves. Eleven miles, plus the 1.5 kilometers each way between the Eco-Camp and the trailhead. We walked down the hill from the Eco-Camp and crossed a broad meadow where the Hosteria Las Torres (campground and resort) is located. We crossed a bridge over the Rio Ascencio, whose valley we would follow for the next 6.2 kilometers (about 4 miles). This modest river carved an impressive canyon. The first part of the trail parallels the river but high up the canyon walls. Much of it is steep, and in parts are deep troughs from horses hooves.
After a while, the trail gentles in grade but drops into side valleys and ascends out of them. A bit past the half-way point, we reached the Albergo y Camping Chileno. This large European-style hut offers rustic accommodations and some food and beverage service. It is also as far as horses are permitted for people who don't want to hike the whole way.
From the Albergo, the trail is generally closer to the river and passes through deep woods. It has more rises and falls until it reaches a clearing. The steep Accarreo Moraine ascends sharply to the left to a small lake offering the best in-your-face view of the towers. Anyone not interested in the final 1.5 kilometers (almost 1 mile) and 750 vertical feet on scree and talus, can follow a small trail to a funky ranger station. Beyond it is another viewpoint to see the towers.
The next morning, we left the Eco-Camp and drove all the way back to Punta Arenas. Park roads are not paved and hopefully will not be, but as noted above, the government is undertaking an ambitious road-widening project as far as a crossroads called Cerro Carillo, something of a gateway to Torres del Paine National Park and also to the nearby border with Argentina.
From the Albergo, the trail is generally closer to the river and passes through deep woods. It has more rises and falls until it reaches a clearing. The steep Accarreo Moraine ascends sharply to the left to a small lake offering the best in-your-face view of the towers. Anyone not interested in the final 1.5 kilometers (almost 1 mile) and 750 vertical feet on scree and talus, can follow a small trail to a funky ranger station. Beyond it is another viewpoint to see the towers.
The next morning, we left the Eco-Camp and drove all the way back to Punta Arenas. Park roads are not paved and hopefully will not be, but as noted above, the government is undertaking an ambitious road-widening project as far as a crossroads called Cerro Carillo, something of a gateway to Torres del Paine National Park and also to the nearby border with Argentina.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Puerto Natales, Chile
Punta Arenas is the southernmost city in Chile and one of the two most southerly in the world. It sits on the Straits of Magellan, where the breeze blows steadily, where the sky is filled with fast-moving, dramatically lit clouds and the people are as hearty as Alaskans, Canadians, residents of the Scandinavan north and other people who aren´t drawn to palm trees.
En route to Torres del Paine National Park, we detoured one hour to the south for an hour to Fuerte Bulnes, a reproduction of a mid-19th century wood fort that established Chile's claim to this southerly lnd, literally days ahead of a French naval party with the same goal. Between Punta Arenas and the fort, in and along the water just south of the road, we saw an enormous sea lion perched on a rock that wasn´t much larger than the critter, a pod of a Magellanic dolpin called tonines (which I might be spelling wrong) and numous shore birds. My favorite Patagonian bird, the caiquen, is a long-necked bird that always travels in pairs. North of the road are small farms, where chickens, roosters, sheep (and their lambs) and attle were in evidence.
The main square of the lively port town of Punta Arenas is ringed with opulent mansions dating from the days of the wool trade. Between there and Puerto Natales to the north are long stretches of coastal highway with few trees, rolling scenery, more sheep and even a small lake inhabited by Patagonian flamingoes. We spent the night in Puerto Natales, a trekker/backpacke/cyclist stop, with more hostels than hotels. Soon, it's off to the national park.
En route to Torres del Paine National Park, we detoured one hour to the south for an hour to Fuerte Bulnes, a reproduction of a mid-19th century wood fort that established Chile's claim to this southerly lnd, literally days ahead of a French naval party with the same goal. Between Punta Arenas and the fort, in and along the water just south of the road, we saw an enormous sea lion perched on a rock that wasn´t much larger than the critter, a pod of a Magellanic dolpin called tonines (which I might be spelling wrong) and numous shore birds. My favorite Patagonian bird, the caiquen, is a long-necked bird that always travels in pairs. North of the road are small farms, where chickens, roosters, sheep (and their lambs) and attle were in evidence.
The main square of the lively port town of Punta Arenas is ringed with opulent mansions dating from the days of the wool trade. Between there and Puerto Natales to the north are long stretches of coastal highway with few trees, rolling scenery, more sheep and even a small lake inhabited by Patagonian flamingoes. We spent the night in Puerto Natales, a trekker/backpacke/cyclist stop, with more hostels than hotels. Soon, it's off to the national park.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Valparaiso
This UNESCO World Heritage Site is one of the most beautifully situated, most rundown cities I have ever seen. Located around a gorgeous crescent-shaped harbor with homes clinging to steep hills, Valparaiso thrived from the time of the 1849 California Gold Rush, when ships that had rounded Cape Horn re-provisioned in its lovely hardbor, until the Panama Canal rendered it obsolete. It began a slow decline that was not helped by an earthquake in 1904 and subequent tremblors.
Houses -- ornate, ramshackle or both (above right) -- cling to hillsides. One of them belonged to Chile's Nobel Prize-winning poet, Pablo Neruda, and is now a museum filled with his personal objects. He wrote in a tower room with large windows taking in a commanding view. Today, the city looks better from afar than close-up. Cobblestone streets, broken sidewalks and steep slopes are filled with brilliant wildflowers, dog droppings and litter. One major road contours over the hills, with many small streets, alleyways and staircases. Too many walls are graffitied. Locals don't seem to notice or care. Fifteen funiculars, called elevadors, make it easier and more direct for people to move from the seaside port level to the neighborhoods above. The tariff is 100 pesos -- roughly 20 cents.
Elaborate public buildings, including the national parliament and the Chilean version of the Pentagon, are located in Valparaiso. So is the military memorial, like an unknown soldier's tomb with an eternal flame. Souvenir vendors set up stalls anywhere of possible touristic interest. A small, crowded covered food market displays beautiful produce and other products near the center of town. On Sundays, like today, a flea market occupies the median of one of the main streets. Used clothing, cheap shoes, a lot of this and that is laid out on blankets or rugs. There are a few canopies for shade, but no stalls. A couple of Chileans told me that Valparaiso really rocks at night, but by day, alas, it's still the warts that show.
It is a city with a past and hopefully a future. With UNESCO loans, the city is undergrounding the rat's nests of overhead wires. Light rail now runs along the waterfront linking the cargo port to the cruise port and even the nearby high-rise resort of Vino del Mar. Maybe the sidewalks will be fixed. Maybe the litter will be picked up. Maybe more of the houses will be restored and repainted. Valaparaiso is something of a cross between San Francisco and Hooverville -- still too much of the latter and too little of the former.
Valparaiso is an easy day trip from Santiago, by frequent public bus for about $6 or with one of the tour operators that not only provides transportation to the city by the sea but also up to the hillside neighborhoods.
Houses -- ornate, ramshackle or both (above right) -- cling to hillsides. One of them belonged to Chile's Nobel Prize-winning poet, Pablo Neruda, and is now a museum filled with his personal objects. He wrote in a tower room with large windows taking in a commanding view. Today, the city looks better from afar than close-up. Cobblestone streets, broken sidewalks and steep slopes are filled with brilliant wildflowers, dog droppings and litter. One major road contours over the hills, with many small streets, alleyways and staircases. Too many walls are graffitied. Locals don't seem to notice or care. Fifteen funiculars, called elevadors, make it easier and more direct for people to move from the seaside port level to the neighborhoods above. The tariff is 100 pesos -- roughly 20 cents.
Elaborate public buildings, including the national parliament and the Chilean version of the Pentagon, are located in Valparaiso. So is the military memorial, like an unknown soldier's tomb with an eternal flame. Souvenir vendors set up stalls anywhere of possible touristic interest. A small, crowded covered food market displays beautiful produce and other products near the center of town. On Sundays, like today, a flea market occupies the median of one of the main streets. Used clothing, cheap shoes, a lot of this and that is laid out on blankets or rugs. There are a few canopies for shade, but no stalls. A couple of Chileans told me that Valparaiso really rocks at night, but by day, alas, it's still the warts that show.
It is a city with a past and hopefully a future. With UNESCO loans, the city is undergrounding the rat's nests of overhead wires. Light rail now runs along the waterfront linking the cargo port to the cruise port and even the nearby high-rise resort of Vino del Mar. Maybe the sidewalks will be fixed. Maybe the litter will be picked up. Maybe more of the houses will be restored and repainted. Valaparaiso is something of a cross between San Francisco and Hooverville -- still too much of the latter and too little of the former.
Valparaiso is an easy day trip from Santiago, by frequent public bus for about $6 or with one of the tour operators that not only provides transportation to the city by the sea but also up to the hillside neighborhoods.
Cool new hotel in Santiago
This is a newborn blog, so far without any bells and whistles, but I've already discovered a very cool (and very new) 10-room hotel in Bellavista, Santiago, Chile's liveliest neighborhood. The Hotel del Patio occupies the second floor of a traditional courtyard that is filled with neat little shops and restaurants. The hotel's furnishings are minimalist and oh-so-stylish. Bright sateen quilts provide the single blast of color amid the dark furniture and light walls. Each room has a private bath (shower only, no tub) and big windows. There's also a fab deck for breakfast or hanging out and, did I mention the location? Rates for standard rooms are US$62 per night, single or double, including continental breakfast and complimentary Internet access. E-mail them at hoteldelpatio@gmail.com.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Santiago, Chile - Initial Observations
I am in Santiago, Chile, for the Society of American Travel Writers annual convention, after which there will be no more meetings, no more banquets and no more speeches, but opportunities to visit outlying parts of the country. Chilean officials keep referring to the country's climatic and geographic diversity. As an illustration, a map of Chile overlaid on a map of North America, with the southern end of Chile on top of San Diego, the northern tip would stretch all the way to Prudhoe Bay.
Chile, now led by Michelle Bachelet, a democratically elected woman prime minister, has emerged from the long, dark shadow cast by former (and still jailed) dictator Augusto Pinochet, is proud of its robust economy, growing sophistication and personal liberties. Nowhere is this more evident than in Santiago, where some 5.5 million Chileans live. It's just the start of out visit, but here are some initial impressions of Santiago:
- The official bird of Santiago is the construction crane. Buildings are going up all over. Many are dramatic. Most apartments sprout small balconies, and most balconies sprout flowers and greenery.
- Civic improvements include a new airport terminal and a number of new roadways, including a lengthy tunnel literally under the Mapocho River. The river is a concrete-lined culvert, made more attractive by several parks along its banks. I've read that it has long been heavily polluted both with household and industrial effluent, but the government has undertaken clean-up efforts and built wastewater treatment plants.
- The parts of the city that tourists are likely to visit are relatively litter-free, but graffiti blights many of the best old buildings.
- At this time of year (October = spring), mornings are foggy, but the sun usual comes out in the afternoon. Perhaps this Mendocino-type climate is why the wines grown nearby in the Maipo Valley are so good.
- Local chefs do not seem at all concerned with sustainable seafood harvesting. Salmon often come from fish farms. Chilean sea bass is served all the time, though someone has told me that the Patagonia toothfish that appears on US menus as Chilean sea bass is not the same as sea bass in Chile.
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