Sheep's Head Stew, and Other Adventures in Massage

It turns out that anywhere in the world, people get really excited when they find out you're a massage therapist.  From Greek tavernas to Chilean asados, this revelation instantly brings out all sorts of aches and pains, comprehensible through any language barrier.  When Cristian's mom discovered my profession, her face lit up and she asked if I would be willing to work on her sister Rosa, who was suffering from some unknown but painful malady.  I readily agreed, and we decided that it would have to happen the next day, before Rosa left town.

That day also coincided with Mary, my usual translator, working a trip three hours away, leaving Cristian to act as my coordinator and liaison with my new client.  He speaks a little English and I speak even less Spanish; this was sure to be interesting.  We all put on our going out clothes, including little Benjamin, who was bundled along in his carrier.  It was a short walk over to the guest house where Rosa was staying on the other side of town.  There were several folks sitting around the kitchen table when we arrived; Rosa turned out to be the senora with the short hair, accompanied by her husband and a friend.

The two of us headed back to her room so I could work on her on the bed.  It was a far cry from the last massage I did, on the rooftop of a hotel in Crete overlooking the Aegean Sea.  I knew enough Spanish to make sure she was comfortable and to ask whether she felt better or worse.  During the half hour I worked on her, switching her from one side to the other, people kept popping their heads in to see how things were going, and Rosa would yell out to her husband to put the potatoes on or set the table.  It was hardly the zen-like experience that some people expect, but it seemed to help as she was able to climb off the bed a little easier and was soon puttering around the kitchen.

But my work apparently wasn't done.  "Come to the table!", they insisted, gesturing to a table all set for lunch.  Cristian had taken Benjamin into another room for his nap so I did as I was told.  There was the typical Chilean spread of bread and a couple salads, one of lettuce and one of rice with tomato.  After we were seated Rosa brought over the main course: sheep's head stew with whole potatoes.  And what a stew it was: there were multiple sheep skulls neatly cleaved in half, brains and eyeballs and all, along with chunks of vertebrae and other mystery joints and organs.

Being the guest, I got to serve myself first.  All those anatomy classes came in handy as I fished through the pot looking for something I could both identify and stomach.  I ended up with a large vertebrae while the others eagerly helped themselves to the skulls and jawbones, all the best parts.  I learned that spinal column is really chewy, when eyeballs are eaten you have to cut out the cornea and lense first, and after watching eyeballs be eaten my appetite disappears for a full 24 hours.  It was a very educational meal to say the least.  When someone asks for a massage, you never know what you'll learn.

Backcountry Bliss

Go that way!

Day 1: The day after Christmas we packed up our tent, put on our backpacks, and walked into the hills in Mary's backyard.  Mary and Cristian were kind enough to give us a ride to the trailhead 40 km up the hill and point us in the right direction - "just keep following the road, you'll be fine".  And so we did, clambering over a locked gate, wading through at least six river crossings (thank goodness for gaiters), and into the Reserva Nacional Cerro Castillo.  There was no one there at the entrance to collect our entrance fee of 5,000 pesos (about $10) so we continued on to our campsite on the banks of the Rio Turbio, setting up our tent in a grove of bonsai-esque lenga trees.  We were in bed by 8:00 and sound asleep soon after.

Rio Turbio

 Day 2: With such an early bedtime, Carl was up, bright eyed and bushy tailed, by 6:00 that morning, and made sure that I was up as well to enjoy it.  We weren't the only ones - a Colorado fox stopped to give us a long glance before continuing purposefully down the trail.  Our itinerary followed the valley towards its head, then up and over the pass.  It's still the beginning of summer here so there was a sizeable snowfield covering the rocks and scree.  It made for easier hiking on the way up, and some exciting glissading and self-arrests on the way down.

At the pass, looking back the way we came

 The trail wound back into the forest and then turned uphill to follow a glacial stream.  As unnerving as it is to drink directly from the rivers here without treating the water, this is probably one of the last places on earth where you can do that.  After conquering the pass our legs and lungs were not excited about the stairs that greeted us, but the hanging glaciers and soaring peaks at the end were well worth the effort.  That night we were in bed by 7:30, about 3 hours before dark.

Our campsite for nights 2 and 3, underneath Cerro Castillo

 Day 3: Today was a well-justified rest day, with a leisurely morning followed by some local explorations.  A quick scramble up a scree field brought us to a hanging valley probably formed some hundreds of years ago by the glacier looming overhead.  We could hear the glacier creaking and grumbling, and kept looking over our shoulders for pieces to come tumbling down.  When they do break off, it sounds like thunder and echoes around the valley.  We spent a good two or three hours up there exploring the small lake that fed a massive waterfall, stone formations shaped like waves, and chunks of glacial ice in the debris field.

Up in the hanging valley

Day 4: The last day of the trip dawned just as mild and blue as the others; the weather itself was nothing short of miraculous, all the better to enjoy the scenery.  From our campsite it was a short hike up to the lake below Cerro Castillo, and then a longer climb over a tumbling boulder field to the ridge opposite.  We stopped every couple of steps to rest our weary legs and take in the incredible views of at least 4 separate hanging glaciers and twisting spires of rock.  It was breathtaking, in every sense of the word.

Cerro Castillo reflected in the lake below

 We crested the ridge only to have our minds blown once again.  The entire valley of the Rio Ibanez was splayed out beneath us, with glimpses of Lago General Carrera and Argentina to the east and a solid band of snow-capped peaks sweeping around to the valley's head to the west.  Down below, the village of Cerro Castillo lay nestled in a curve of the river, and we could even make out Mary's house, and track the course of the Carretera Austral on its way south.  The trail down was brutally steep, making the scenic breaks even more crucial.  At one point a condor floated silently by at eye level, looping back and forth on the rising thermals.

The town of Cerro Castillo and the Rio Ibanez, with Lago General Carrera and Argentina in the distance

 The last leg of the hike took us towards town via the horse trail we had traversed with Cristian.  We made sure to stop at the sandwich bus before arriving back on Mary's doorstep, foot sore and bearing victorious face-sized sandwiches.  Mary kept asking us how the hike compared to Alaska or Montana, and there's really no comparison.  It's in a class of its own.

Around Every Corner

Cerro Castillo, as seen from Mary and Cristian's front porch

The woodstove in Mary's kitchen that provides heat and dinner.

Huemules!  We saw these wild, endangered ungulates on the way over the pass to Coyhaique.

A house in Coyhaique

 We spent the day in Coyhaique getting well acquainted with the main street and square while Mary and Cristian ran errands.  At 4:00 Carl decided that it was time to try a pisco sour.  After walking around several blocks, we finally found a cafe that was open and serving alcohol.  They're really not too bad.

 Barbeque, Chilean style!  Sling a slew of steaks and some home-made longaniza sausage on a large metal disc, stoke the fire, and enjoy on a slice of chewy bread.  Make sure to cook enough for the marauding neighborhood children.

 Cristian's Mom's farm on the way over to the town of Ibanez

 Big men drink little coffees.  This is what you'll get when you order a cafe chico.

 Look, I can see Argentina from here!  It's Lago General Carrera on this side, although the Argentines call it Lago Buenos Aires.

 The Rio Ibanez just before it enters the lake.  We climbed out to the point between the two cascades and watched the water roar past on both sides.

 Vacan = awesome!

 Lupines on the roadside

Into the Mountains

Happy 12-12-12!  It's an auspicious day, and also marks one week since our arrival in Chile.  We've been taking advantage of Cristian and Mary's hospitality and reciprocating with baby sitting, dish washing, errand running, and cooking on the wood stove (I make a mean french toast).  Our base camp has undergone a couple adjustments, mainly due to high winds that blew over my MSR tent and snapped the support pole of our shelter in half.  They are now both securely pitched in a grove of trees that serves as both protection and support; to fix the shelter situation I sewed a loop of p-cord to the peak and suspended it from a tree.

On Monday Mary took us up into the national reserve that you can see from their window.  There was a trail she wanted to scope out for some clients, and we were all curious to see how our out-of-shape legs and lungs would handle the hike.  The trailhead was situated down a gravel track that was an adventure all on its own.  From there we walked through green cow pastures up to a glacial river, where we refilled our water bottles, and then continued climbing up the ridge where convenient signs informed us of photographic opportunities: Cerro Castillo was above us to the right, Cerro Viaja (spelling unknown), and pointy Cerro Palo which you can see in the photo below.

 We reached the first campsite in about two hours and continued through the lush woods of linga trees and wildflowers into the gathering clouds.  It got colder and wetter the higher we climbed, until we came out into an open meadow at the foot of the mountains, snowfields and hanging glaciers peaking out from the mist.  By that point we were wearing all our layers and realizing that we wouldn't get out of the woods until at least 9:30 (thankfully it doesn't get dark until 10:30).  After a quick snack we turned around and booked it down the mountain.  The map below shows the whole reserve of Cerro Castillo; we hiked the short section by Carl's elbow.

 The next day Carl and I were on our own to explore, so we packed some sandwiches and turned south on the Carretera Australe.  Chile's north-south highway turns to gravel right at Cristian and Mary's house, and this is where we began walking, over the Rio Ibanez a quarter mile until a left hand turn onto an even smaller gravel road.  This track took us parallel to the river and we kept glancing over our shoulders at the mountains playing hide-and-seek with the clouds.

 45 minutes later we reached the end of the road and a trail heading up the hill, with signs announcing the National Monument of Los Manos.  We passed various, awkwardly translated informational signs (one proclaiming the area had once been under a nile of ice) up to a large outcropping of igneous rock.  The draw, besides the scenery, is a series of pictographs thought to be 3,000 years old.  There are hand prints spread across the wall, big ones and little ones, prints and silhouettes.  I guess it's even in the book "1,001 Things To See Before You Die".  Check.

 Today Cristian was kind enough to let us tag along on his trip.  It was the first time on a horse in a very, very long time for both of us; needless to say we're both a little crippled right now.  This time we headed into the reserve by a different route, still starting out in cow pastures and trees.  Normally the route heads all the way up to a glacially fed lake at the base of Cerro Castillo, but with the thick clouds overhead we detoured to a bluff overlooking the valley instead.  There were some steep climbs up slippery trails, and even steeper descents. At one point my horse lost its footing on its hind legs, and Carl's steed got spooked by an aggressive cow, but we all returned in one piece, slightly damp and smiling from ear to ear.  We'll get to that lake on of these days.

Things I've Learned So Far

1. December is extremely windy in southern Chile.  Like sustained 30 to 40 mph extreme.  You will end up with dirt in every little crack and crevice no matter how hard you try to avoid it.

2. You can disconnect a car battery while the car is still running.  This is particularly useful when you have a dead battery because the lights were left on while our friend Mary was in the grocery store, and even a helpful taxi cab was unable to jump start it.  Simply swap in a functioning battery, start said car, change to old battery, and you are good to go.

3. They sell yogurt in bags.

4. Carl is very good at setting up camp sites.  This one is situated up above Mary's house, sheltered a bit by the trees.  The view looks out over the town of Cerro Castillo, and the exact spot where the Carretera Austral (the highway running north-south) turns to gravel.

5. Empanadas are delicious.  What's not to love about a fried hand pie full of beef stew?

It's Go Time

All packed up and ready to go!  The next time you hear from me, Carl and I will be in Villa Cerro Castillo, a small town in the Aysen region of northern Patagonia, Chile.  Keep checking back for frequent updates of gorgeous scenery, cultural faux pas, and culinary adventures.  Ciao!

Twisty Turny Gorgeous

If you've never been to West Virginia, you're missing out. Carl and I took a tour of the best of the best last week, packing the dogs in the Subaru and driving south and west to Dolly Sods Wilderness.  The last of the brilliant leaves still clung to the trees and one bank we passed reported the temperature as 87 degrees.  It got predictably cooler as we turned off the paved road and headed up into the hills.  From the trailhead, it only took us about 40 minutes to reach the best campsite in the area, perched above two streams coming together and complete with fire ring and seats.

 Luna loves camping more than anything (even tennis balls), and she barely slept the first night because there was so much to keep track of outside.  At one point we heard what we thought was a raccoon hissing at us from the dark.

The next morning we left camp where it was and set off with day packs to explore the area.  Our trail took us across beaver dams...

 ...and through bogs, where at some point we lost the actual trail and ended up bushwhacking our way up to the ridge through thick stands of hemlock, pines, and mountain laurel.

 Up on the ridge we discovered our lost trail, massive rock formations, and sweeping views of the Canaan Valley below.  Not a bad place for lunch.

 The pups were troopers through the whole adventure, bounding around the bogs and keeping track of everyone in the brush.

 True to form,  Luna managed to find a tennis ball in the middle of a wilderness area.  Luckily for us, she was so tired out by our 12 mile jaunt that she promptly curled up when we returned to camp.  That night we were treated to several choruses of coyotes calling to each other first from one direction, then the other.

 Day three we took our time breaking camp before hiking back to the car.  Everyone was still pretty tired from our death march the day before, and it was hard to tell who was more relieved to settle into the vehicle.  Our tour continued south to Seneca Rocks...

 ...and then back north to Blackwater Falls...

 ...and the quirky towns of Davis and Thomas.  Right next store to each other, these places are a little pocket of dirty hippie in the mountains of West Virginia.  Thomas is the home of the Purple Fiddle which serves up organic food and live music.  They also have a couple guest rooms that even welcome dogs.  It was a little like staying at your crazy great-aunt's house, complete with VCR and video cassettes.  That evening we joined a couple other folks in the cafe and stayed on to watch a band of recent college graduates rock out.

With all that, how could you not love West Virginia?  Back at home we've unpacked and turned our sights to the next big adventure: surviving Hurricane Sandy.  We've already gotten 2 inches of rain, laid bets on how high the river's going to get, and are bracing for the winds that are on their way.  The power will most certainly go out but don't worry, we are stocked up on M & Ms, knitting supplies, and dog treats.  Bring it on!

Taking Stock

It's been six weeks since I lost my dad to a completely random act of incomprehensible violence.  Those six weeks have been, simultaneously, the most whirl wind and the most excruciatingly slow of my life.  We've laughed, cried, laughed some more, and cried again.  I don't even have the words to express...any of it.  But for every heart wrenching moment I have, there's been something equally wonderful to carry me on.

Thank you to everyone for the letters, emails, and messages of support.  Thanks for the food and the company.  Thanks for walks in the woods and sloppy puppy kisses.  Life keeps moving on, and so will we.

May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be at your back
May the sun shine warm on your face
The rain fall softly on your fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of his hand

Miss you and love you, Dad.  Safe travels.

Pinch Me, I'm Dreaming

Last night my co-guide, Chris, and I went to dinner at Lion's Taverna, situated right on the beach a short walk away from our hotel.  The waiter Peter greeted us warmly (Chris is a regular face around here), then invited us back into the kitchen to view the day's offerings.  He pulled open tray after steaming tray of moussaka, chicken stuffed with spinach and feta, steamed local greens, mushrooms with seafood, swordfish steaks, and other goodies.  We pointed to our preferences, then returned to our table to listen to the surf, watch the numerous cats patrolling the board walk, and enjoy a real Greek salad (a slab of fresh feta atop cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, onions, and olives).  The rest of our food followed in the usual leisurely manner and we ate serenaded by a gentleman playing what we guessed was traditional Greek music on what we guessed was a lute.  The meal culminated with a small plate of fruit, most likely from the owner's farm, and the requisite shots of raki, the local liquor.  It's made with the grape skins left over from making wine, and each taverna makes their own.  Apparently they all taste a little bit different; perhaps by the end of this trip my palate will have developed enough to tell.

This is my life right now and it's pretty incredible.  The journey to Greece started Wednesday at Dulles Airport in Washington D.C. when Carl dropped me off at the curb, and culminated 28 hours later in a rental car with Chris driving across the island of Crete from Heraklion to Matala.  It was dark when we arrived so the next morning I awoke to the full effect of the small resort town, with its short stretch of shops, tavernas, cafes and restaurants, the crescent beach and crystal clear water, and the iconic rock formations that frame the bay, great layers of rock angling into the ocean with a whole network of caves carved into them.  This town has been a hippie hang out since the sixties and that vibe is still going strong.  A lot of places have live music, and its usually Bob Marley covers.

Amazingly enough I am here to work.  It's been good to have a few days to get my bearings, work on my tan, and learn the words for "thank you" and "good day" before being responsible for other people.  This will be Chris' 11th time doing this trip so he's got everything very much under control (which is reassuring for me), especially since we only have 5 people on this time around.  It's the perfect way to get my feet wet and see what this is really all about.  Today is the first day of the trip - Chris is in Heraklion now picking up folks from the airport, then we'll spend the afternoon outfitting people with paddling gear and perhaps even get on the water.  This evening I get to do my first massages since leaving Oregon.  Hopefully massage, like paddling, comes back as quickly as falling off a bicycle.

Operation: Feathered Friends

One of the hard things about leaving Oregon was getting rid of our chickens.  Sure, I knew they were in a good place at the neighbor's, and I really shouldn't have been that attached to them (they're only chickens, after all), but we did raise them from cheeping little chicks and the backyard looked empty without them.  So when Nancy brought up the Maryland Poultry Swap happening this weekend, Carl decided that his parents needed chickens, too.  It turns out there was a small fenced area that would be perfect, and an old dog house/sheep shelter that was easily converted into a chicken coop.  They left yesterday morning for a week in Maine, leaving Carl and me unsupervised in our poultry pursuits.

The poultry swap was an informal but surprisingly large affair of tents and tables set up in a field, and there were plenty of other dusty pickups with dog carriers in the back when we arrived.  In addition to chickens, there were ducks, peacocks, pigs, guinea hens, doves, goats, and English Pointer puppies.  We almost ended up with one of each, but I managed to keep Carl focused.  But even among chickens there were a ton of choices: little pluckish bantams, ridiculously feathered Silkies, roosters the size of a dog, Easter Eggers with feathered faces, prim Plymouth Barred Rocks, brassy Rhode Island Reds, and chirping chicks.  In the end we decided on a mix of three Auburn Javas, two Rhode Island Reds, a gray Easter Egger, and a Buff Orpington/Easter Egger mix.  The last two will lay blue or green eggs and we can't wait!

The ladies checking out the buffet

The Palais Poulet - the open roof allows access to the nest boxes, and the green door slides shut

Interior view

Houdini the Easter Egger.  She's already tried to fly over the  fence.

Auburn Java

Carl coaxing the ladies towards their new digs

Our first egg!

 The ladies are busy settling in to their new homes - one of them has already laid us an egg.  Knutty Acres just got a little bit nuttier.

Wild and Wonderful

West Virginia is a pretty fun corner of the world.  Today we saw a whole group of Civil War reenactors, looking appropriately sweaty and tired in their wool uniforms, first breaking camp at an old church and then again further along the road towards the river.  The day after we arrived we got to watch a clutch of turtles hatch.  Ed found the turtle nest about three months ago while removing a tree stump and had saved the eggs, dirt and all, in a small aquarium.  It was very nice of them to wait for our arrival to dig their way out; after a couple hours there were four tiny turtles toodling around.

Baby turtles! The shell is about the same size as a quarter

After a couple days of down time we got to pack up our bags again.  Carl's college friend Brendan and his fiancee Alyson drove down from Boston to spend a day at Knutty Acres, swimming in the river and enjoying the company of 6 dogs.  From there we joined them on the drive to Morgantown and West Virginia University, and then on to Columbus, OH for a wedding.

Grill full of delicious bounty

Carl and Brendan were both eager to show us ladies all of their old college haunts.  Our first stop was Coopers Rock, which is a beautiful wooded area threaded through with hiking and biking trails.  I even found a new friend.

The Giant at Coopers Rock

The views extended all the way over to Morgantown and were pretty amazing.

Coopers Rock

Our second day in Morgantown we slept in, strolled around town to find some Mountaineers gear, and then headed to the Forks of Cheat Winery for some lunch.  Cheese, meat, crackers, and wine makes a balanced meal, right?

Enjoying some cheese, meats, and wine at the Forks of Cheat Winery

 It was pretty funny walking around campus.  We amused ourselves by trying to identify the freshmen, wandering glassy-eyed among the brick buildings, and watching the antics of frats and sororities recruiting new members.  Needless to say, we all felt really old, so we drowned our sorrows with amazing burritos from Black Bear and beer at Morgantown Brewing Company.

Morgantown and WVU as seen from the president's house

 The best part of the drive to Columbus was the massive thunderstorms with torrential rains and arcs of lightning.  We got to stay on the 12th floor of the Hyatt Convention Center, at the same time the cat convention was going on.  While we didn't see any cats, there were a lot of weird people wandering the halls.  The wedding itself was in an old Catholic church in the historic Germantown area. We all did our best to behave.

Behaving in church

 Scott and Katie make a beautiful couple, made even better with bubbles.

The happy couple post ceremony

 The ceremony was over in time for us to catch the second half of the West Virginia football game, to Carl and Brendan's great joy.  Soon enough it was time to get dressed back up for the reception, dinner, and dancing. We clean up pretty good.

All dressed up

 Carl made lots of new friends with his vest.  With all the time and effort I put into making that thing, I should hope so.  Thanks, Grandma, for the sewing machine that's smarter than I am!

Full effect of Carl's fashion statement

The fantastic four, foot loose and fancy free

Good times were had by all.  The next day Brendan and Aly dropped us in Lewisburg, PA on their way back to Boston and we bid our dance partners adieu.  Ed and Nancy met us there to hang out with their old friends, check out the house where Carl grew up, and enjoy delicious sandwiches and homemade wine from Oips.  Now we're back on the funny farm, relaxing and preparing to go to Greece.  The fun just never stops!