Leap of Faith – New Zealand

May 2, 2002

rick_mugWho was it that advised me to bite off more than I can chew … then chew like Hell?

I know he had not tasted Vegemite! 🙂

Well those of you still duped by the myth of the Christian work ethic can sleep soundly knowing that I am working hard — 6 days / week, about 35 hours / week on the floor. The club administration is excellent so the focus of my job is working directly with gymnasts and coaches.

Christchurch School of Gymnastics
Christchurch School of Gymnastics

It has been good fun and an interesting challenge to connect with hundreds of new people Down Under.

We planned my arrival here in time for the big club trip to the hot spring spa in Hamner, 90 minutes out of Christchurch. We played gymnastics games in a park then raced up a mountain (I finished second). The hot pools are great, the most elaborate I have ever seen.

En route home some idiot jumped off the bridge. New Zealand claims to be home of bungie jumping and they love all manner of extreme adventure sport here.

My only other trip was to Dunedin, about 5 hours south of Christchurch. It is a University town like Saskatoon and a large percentages of Kiwis got educated there. It is famous for old architecture and student pubs. I arrived late on a Saturday night and the natives were restless.

Everyone likes Dunedin. It has character.

Locals confided to me that Dunedin is the one city in NZ where being eaten by a shark is a real likelihood. About one resident each year was devoured here until shark nets were strung to protect swimmers.

 walking the deserted beach in Dunedin
walking the deserted beach in Dunedin

Green and hilly, Dunedin is home to Cadbury’s and the world’s steepest roadway. Students were killed joy riding in a trash bin last year. It gets interesting here on the rare occasion when snow falls. Last winter the gravel truck slid down an icy steep hill wiping out all the cars parked below. The driver jumped to safety.

As Spring is sprung in Canada it is Fall here. August is the coldest month but days are shortest in June.

– Kiwi Rick

Rick bungie jumping (back layout 1/1)
Rick bungie jumping (back layout 1/1)

Rick in New Zealand

April 16, 2002

rick_mugEn route to my new job, I had a 1 day stopover in Hong Kong, one of my favourite cities; the famous Star Ferry, double Decker buses, fantastic high-rises and bridges begging the question what happens when the big Quake hits.

Hong Kong was a day filled with anticipation for me too.

After 60 hours en route I finally descended into Auckland. It is a spectacular city seen from above with much water everywhere. This was my first time to New Zealand.

I scooted through customs despite admitting that I had no work visa (yet) though I was arriving for a full-time job. The friendly and casual official waved me through.

One more flight took me on to Christchurch on the south island (mainland!).

It is a great adventure to be living and working in another country. I am thankful my eccentric lifestyle and philosophy affords me the freedom to do so. And the generous support of friends and family, of course. My brother Randy bailed me out in last minute banking confusion.

By the way, I was feted at thanks-for-leaving parties in both Saskatoon and Calgary. Thanks to everyone — especially for the awesome sheep cake in the toon!

In NZ I was met at the airport and whisked to the CSG (Christchurch School of Gymnastics). It is a terrific facility; about 12,000 square feet with an additional spectators gallery above, bunjie pit, excellent matting and new equipment. It is remarkably clean and spacious though the smell of stale sweat hangs in the air just as it does back home.

You might expect I would go straight to sleep then — nope — Rugby was on TV. Rugby is a religion in Christchurch. The Crusaders are undefeated! An infidel Canadian here must immediately be educated in the intricacies of the sport. (One stadium is known as THE HOUSE OF PAIN.)

New Zealanders as you probably know are friendly and down-to-earth. I have been very impressed with my welcome here. One of the gym families has put me up for the first 7 weeks in a guest suite with private entrance. The rumoured kayak transport to and from the gym looks not to be feasible. I bike or walk instead along the lovely Avon River which is crowded with ducks and rowers.

The gym is very well organized by the Executive Officer and my boss Avril Enslow who is one of the top judges in the gymnastics world. The competitive girls are fit and quite good. My predecessor, a Russian coach, has done a good job emphasizing basics.

He eventually came to grief coaching the teenage girls. This is an old story in gymnastics.

Everyone sums up the club with one phrase; great potential.

It is a good challenge for me and one I am enjoying a lot so far. (This after 9 hours in the gym today.)

We plan to build up the boys program this season and add trampoline sports and aerobics in the near future. We even offer Adult Recreational gymnastics. No doubt the club is on the way up and it is fun to be a big part of that progress.

See you down under?

purenz

I always have part-time work for visiting gymnastics coaches.

– Kiwi Rick

___

Interested in a gap year? In the process of planning a gap year? Loved your own gap year? Have no idea what we’re talking about?

The ‘gap year’ is (very) loosely defined as any amount of time taken out of normal life in order to whoop it up in different parts of the world.

There are no rules and the definition is broad to allow for all types of adventures.

Grown Up Gap Years by Tony Wheeler, Lonely Planet author and co-founder:

Another gap year? Been there, done that. Mine is ancient history, almost 30 years ago, when I managed to reach Afghanistan on my early ’70s gap year. I’m far too old now, aren’t I?

Come to think of it, however, I have had another, more recent gap year. In 1996 I moved to Paris with my wife, Maureen, and our two children for a year. We’d kicked around the idea of living somewhere else for ages and finally decided to do it before the children got too far along in their school careers. We enrolled them in an international school, near the Eiffel Tower. With emails, mobile phones and so on, I figured I could work out of Paris just as easily as anywhere else in the world. It was terrific, none of us wanted to leave at the end of the year.

So why shouldn’t there be more gap years – even at my age? Not everybody can shift workplaces as I did, but these days more people can manage time off. Indeed, for many, retirement no longer means simply carrying on in the same place, as if nothing has changed apart from the daily journey to work. Gap years shouldn’t just be for the young, though being young at heart is probably a requirement. And these days people seem to be able to manage this long after their passports shout ‘slow down.’

A couple of years ago I joined a trek in Tibet. We faced a seven-day walk across Nepal simply to reach the start, yet one of our fellow walkers was 74 years of age. The trail, which included crossing a pass higher than the Everest Base Camp, didn’t faze him. I later learnt that his gap year travels have taken him from the Himalayas to the Kalahari.

After a lifetime of travel, I hate the thought of stopping in one place, and the idea of serial retirement villages has become a favourite conversation topic: a year in New York would be fun; we’ve always wanted to spend longer in Japan; and another year in France certainly wouldn’t hurt. House-swapping, renting a flat, even buying a Land-Rover and spending 12 months driving from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego, have all featured in those dreams.

new.zealand.christchurch

to New Zealand

Mar 10, 2002

rick_mugI have been looking for work. I really need a Masters degree in Education in a hurry — preferably from a prestigious non-accredited University based on my present knowledge and life experience.

Anyone know where I can get one? …
Ian Wright’s job was not available.

I’m a sucker for the Olympics. You?

The Salt Lake City Games had some great moments. I loved the opening ceremonies. Curling was fascinating. (I must be a Canadian.) Skeleton was great. Cross country skiing was impressive.

The best was short track skating — no question. Madder than rollerball.

The hockey games were energizing. My favourite players were Wickenheiser and Fleury. There’s something primal about gladiators with sticks.

One sad line on this Olympics is the fall of the Soviet Union as a proud sports superpower. They are coming to grips with the beginning of the end of their world leadership in my field, amateur sport. Tiny, disorganized countries like Canada are starting to win more medals at the Olympics.

The media has this simplistic fixation on medal counts ignoring more important stats:

+ percentage of personal bests
+ performance / capita
+ performance / tax dollar spent

Besides the Olympics I have never been less interested in TV.

I’d watch more TV if only they had my kind of show on the air. Someone should broadcast nothing but bikini clad chicks posing in the surf for hours.

I heard Moby speak on copyright infringement — downloading digital media without payment to the artist. His interesting twist on this issue was to speculate that — if this kind of theft is inevitable in the future — only those musicians who can draw a live crowd will be able to thrive. Musicians must return to their roots as performers. He feels that many artists tour today only to boost CD sales & that many are not entertaining live.

I’m a digital artist too.

Check my latest page on my hiking site:

The West Coast Trail

Everything you NEED to know to hike the West Coast Trail. (Is it on your life-to-do list?)

WL recommended some great books, the Hyperion series by an amazing author, Dan Simmons. This is science fiction at least equal to Dune and the Azimov Foundation series.

The other significant book of late was given me by RS; Quest for Adventure, by Chris Bonnington, 1981. Bonnington, a famed mountaineer, compares 21 true stories of adventurers who challenged oceans, deserts, snow, mountains and space. The guy who first rowed across the Atlantic, for example.

The Golden Globe challenge was one of the best. Of the many who set out to sail around the world single-handed, a near impossible task, only one succeeded. One committed suicide. Another who might have won the race, came to despise our ferocious, competitive society — he kept sailing another half a world to Tahiti.

Me?

Looks like I am off to New Zealand in early April.

I will be Head Coach of the gym club in Christchurch, south island.

Christchurch peninsula
Christchurch peninsula

Come visit. 🙂

Enjoying Winter in Canada

Feb 1, 2002

rick_mugBetween intense bouts of job seeking I’ve been working on hiking hiking web sites. The Nootka Trail is the first in what I hope will be a series.

Farewell to Peter Gzowski, a hero of mine with whom I spent many hours.

I managed to squeeze in a trip to Parksville with my parents who have rented a rustic log cabin for 3 months of winter. They normally go to the States or Mexico but thought to try Canada this year. Parksville has amazing tidal flats — you can walk the sea bottom forever at low tide. They are at the
Tigh Na Mara resort.

We took a drive across the Island to Long Beach and Tofino where storm watching is the big draw in winter. We were impressed with the Wickaninish Inn — big glass windows overlooking the wild surf. Actually there are 2 Wickaninish Inns; the original which is now an interpretive centre in the National Park and the new Resort near Tofino.

RS & KZ hosted me in Vancouver. We saw the amazing Lord of the Rings (part 1) and went mountain biking on the rough trails of North Van. Within an hour we were on our way to the hospital for wrist surgery for Michael, the one experienced biker with us. But the biking was fun while it lasted!

More recently I joined in our (sometimes) annual ski trip. This year ET, WL, & SGL drove to the mountains via Calgary. We stayed on the hill at Sunshine so that Keiran (age 3.5) could take downhill lessons too. Amazing powder! Over 70 cm during the 3 days we were there.

Enjoying winter!

– Rick (-30 C)

skiing Sunshine. Photo by Warren Long
skiing Sunshine. Photo by Warren Long

Happy Holidays! – Canada

Dec 24, 2001

You know those infrequent mass e-mails veiled behind the Blind Carbon Copy feature feigning intimacy while delivering a self-serving update on Rick’s recent doings?

This is one.

(Disclosure: I stole this introduction from Dean Kalyan)

rick_mugFall in Saskatoon is a wonderful season. Beautiful. Unfortunately — it’s winter.

I’m living near the University again. I love the buzz and energy of the U of S. There’s always something happening.

I’ve been working a bit for Keith at Kinesiology. It’s rumoured that my office is Browser’s Internet Café at U of S.

I was impressed that the E-plant came off again this year. It’s symbolic of the glorious chaos that is the University phase of life. In this annual frosh ritual the Engineering students kidnap one of the Agricultural students; lock him up for a week, feed him only beer and pizza, then crucify him on a gigantic E in the centre of the University.

The Agros rally to rescue the captive. A sprawling melee ensues where the painted combatants (red agros and blue engineers) grapple, ripping each other’s clothes off. (Warriors duct tape their clothes as armour.)

This year, for the first time, the kidnap victim was a woman. At U of S, I run noon hours with Bill and Doug. We were hitting the shower post-run along with dozens of blue-painted naked engineers. In walked one lone red naked Agro student … I’ve got to admit, that guy had balls.

I’m coaching at Taiso — but not too many hours / week. It’s been nice after my burnout last season.

It may be time to find a paying job in 2002. Let me know if you have any suggestions for me.

Earlier this Fall I stayed up late to watch the Leonid meteor shower — amazing.

Good on Canada for honouring our hero Nelson Mandela with Canadian citizenship. (Which Alliance MP hinted that Mandela was a terrorist and refused to return his phone call?) There are some true freedom fighters … Mandela, Gandhi & the Dali Lama.

I took a trip to Kansas City in October to help document the Kansas City Royal Barbeque Championships. Attracting 50,000 people, this is the biggest barbeque competition in the world. Huge prize money.

My friend Ron’s team had qualified for KC by winning US$1000 in Oregon.

Barbeque competition is weird and wonderful. But why do people take a perfectly tasty activity — scorching dead beast — and obfuscate it with rules, alcohol and the most subjective judging scheme conceivable?

Odd.

The only thing odder would be to reward little girls for doing difficult stunts high on a narrow beam.

All the best to you and yours in 2002!

Rick

p.s.

Last time I asked for intelligent, left-wing spokespeople who might responsibly balance all the (high-paid!) right wing types. I got some suggestions:

Billy Bragg
Rick Salutin (Globe and Mail)
Rex Murphy
CBC radio
Peter Gzowski

Happy New Year!

Zion – Vegas by Greyhound

July 2001

Zion, Utah is one of the best National Parks in the USA.

rick_mug

Where is everyone?

Of the 16 hikers booked on the 6 AM shuttle to the trailhead, I’m the only one that showed. The rest we assumed decided to go back to bed after checking the dark clouds overhead that morning.

I was waiting to hike Zion Narrows, a 12 mile slot canyon river walk.

Narrow canyons have a distressing tendency to flash flood. In 1998 two California hikers drowned here, their bodies washed miles downstream.

Still, there have been only 22 flash flood fatalities in Utah since 1950. The far greater danger is hypothermia. You can freeze in the canyon when the temperature is 100 degrees F+ up above.

narrowsTurned out I had the canyon to myself, wading the shallow stream, scrambling boulders, red rock cliffs towering as much as 1000 feet on both sides. These are the Narrows of the Virgin River, and, as you know, Virgin narrows are tight. It’s a fantastic, eerie feeling to slosh the canyon alone, wind blasts alternating direction.

I looked for high ground when it began to rain. (There’s no chance of a flash flood in June — I’d been assured by the guy who rented me “canyoneering” gear.)

In fact, I did not go for a sudden high velocity swim. I walked 10 hours before sighting day hikers splashing at the Canyon exit.

Zion National Park is amazing, one of the best of the dozens of attractions in the U.S. South West. I’d long wanted to hike here and in the hoodoos of nearby Bryce National Park, also great.

The big U.S. Parks are installing shuttle buses and removing personal vehicles from park roads. VERY convenient. This green forward thinking does not extend outside the Parks, however, and I had to hitch out of both Zion and Bryce.

Hitchhiking seems a lost art in the U.S. of A. I didn’t see any other hitchhikers in 2 weeks. One character who gave me a lift was organizing the “National Mountain Man Rendezvous”; thousands gather to relive Western life in the 1800s, full regalia required.

Hitching is a drag, but it may still be faster and more convenient than the bus. I had a 15 day Greyhound pass. OUCH! Greyhound U.S.A. is bad, much inferior to Greyhound Canada.

The main upside is the entertainment value of the passengers; mostly elderly, ethnic, and/or eccentric. There’s no better people watching to be had. And I built up some good karma; spotting midgets up bus stairs, assisting a gent with his 11 bags, rescuing hapless customers from rude Greyhound employees, translating for confused Hispanic mothers.

One loco enviromaniac sat down beside me. He lived on roots, moths, rabbit and road kill fox in the Mexican desert. On one bus I missed was an “escaped” man infected with T.B. — passengers were later asked to report to medical authorities.

You do get a weird perspective on the U.S.A. when you travel by bus. It’s like traveling in a third world country. Small town ramshackle buildings collapse on main streets. There seems to be no zoning bylaws (or any laws at all) in ghost town wannabes like Dillon, Montana and Goldfield, Nevada (on the “Extraterrestrial Highway”).

Cramped and dirty, Greyhound depots in the U.S. are often awful; plastic food displays, hairnets, stern warnings against smoking and boozing on the bus. Some depots have been moved to McDonald’s; “McChicken, coffee, and a one-way ticket to Vegas, please.”

Last time in Vegas I left convinced the world must end soon — no God could allow the kind of flagrant excess of this new Gomorrah.

Well … Vegas is improving. It’s now touted as a family destination. The gambling, free booze, and show girls are lesser attractions than the shows, restaurants, and the outrageous resorts themselves.

My terrific hosts in Vegas were Dan & Terri. I saw the Cirque du Soleil shows “Mystere” and “O”, both excellent.

A friend from Lethbridge, Steve, arrived the same day. We trekked the billion dollar casinos (all built with the money of “winners”) and tucked into a Vegas buffet.

slots_addict
Steve’s a winner at slots

With Tom & Karen, two more transplanted Cirque Canadians, we celebrated Terri’s birthday at a Mexican restaurant; saw a prop comedian named Carrot Top; and finished the evening with Las Vegas crooners at the Brown Derby.

Too much fun.

A US$100 round of golf was fun — but not too much fun.

mcfollowthru
McFollowthru (more golf photos)

I went with Dan & Terri & family up to Navajo Lake, Utah for a relaxed camping and fishing break, a nice escape from the heat and excitement of Vegas.

Dan fishing

Next stop Vancouver to visit Ron & Kate. I foresee great food, great drink, kayaking, beaching, hiking, running … and getting stuck half way up a crack scrambling The Chief near Squamish.

Wish me luck.

Mexico – Feliz Navidad

Dec. 1999

rick_mug

I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas.
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas.
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas.
From the bottom of my heart.

Just in time for Christmas, I’m back from Mexico — happy to be out of that boring perfect weather into the festive Canadian cold & slush, the urgency of impending blizzard.

I got lucky finding a flight home from La Paz, Mexico just hours before the 25th.

baja_mapI got there by ferry from the mainland, over to Baja — a stark, dry, littered wasteland which none-the-less attracts over 50 million! visitors every year.

“The land supports a variety of obdurate and malicious flora; there are thistles underfoot and Cardon cacti (the world’s largest) towering overhead. … Every growing thing, or so it seems, sticks, stabs, or stinks.
(Tim Cahill)

I went to Cabo. I can’t explain it.
(Bill Bryson)

I guess I wanted to see for myself the tourist trap described by my guidebook as a depressing jumble of exorbitantly priced hotels, pretentious restaurants, rowdy bars and tacky souvenir stands…. Its quintessential experience might be to stagger out of a bar at 3 am, pass out on the beach, and be crushed at daybreak by a rampaging developer’s bulldozer.

I hitched with 2 of those Mexican architect / developer condo commandos who had been up boozing all night & whom were now driving home to Cabo. We passed an overturned 4×4, crashed the night before.

“Probably drinking & driving. Another beer Amigo?”

Cabo San Lucas is smaller & less glitzy than I expected. The marina will be stunning when the construction is finished. Looks like a good town for a blow-out.

But I didn’t stay.

Sorritos Beach

For weeks I had heard rumours of a free, dry surfers beach. Undeveloped. No toilets, no water, no power. Surf fishing. A mucho hip hang-out.

Somebody said it was called Sorritos beach but I couldn’t find it on any map. It’s there. Head towards the water on the dirt track closest to the km 64 road marker.

Idyllic spot. Perfect weather, cloudless but for the spray haze off the huge breakers. You can walk the beach, read, doze in the sun, or watch the surfers crash.

It’s dark by 5:30 pm this time of year. And the slim crescent moon dipped into the sea early leaving more room for the stars. I made a wish at every meteoric flash.

From Sorittos I wanted to try the most popular hike in Baja, Sierra de la Laguna, a unique alpine meadow nestled high between peaks on the peninsula.

baj

Receiving more than 10 times the normal rainfall, this oasis in the mountains grows palms, oaks, aspens, & pine trees; providing refuge for species now extinct in the rest of Baja.

I didn’t make it. About 2 hours from the top, my leg muscles cramped up. I was finished.

My hiking partner, a young Brit named Richard, dashed up without me. I felt he was fit enough. He had recently sailed 2000 miles from Seattle to San Diego, then mountain-biked another 1000 miles in Baja — without a hat!

I sat. Enjoyed the fantastic views out over the desert to the sea. Read “Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”.

Richard rejoined me next day for the hike down the mountain and the 11 mile! hike out to the highway through thorn forest, sand, & blistering heat.

You haven’t had a BEER until you’ve first climbed off a mountain then trudged 11 miles thorough desert. You haven’t.

We limped into “Frank’s Shut-up & Drink” (something like that), the kind of bar that attracts end-of-the-liners; washed-up surfers, trust fund kids, eccentrics, & run-of-the-mill alcoholics who drifted west, then south to Land’s End.

One of my companion morons wants to be King of North Dakota where he heard he can buy a house for $3000. I advised him, “Why not Minot? The reason, it’s freezin”.

Run to the sun?

If you ever want to travel Mexico I’d recommend to motor Baja, to drive a VW van or older model American-built shaggin’-wagon-type camperized van. These are easily repaired. Bring a tent & toys: kayaks & motorbikes.

And if you ever need to flee home, talk to me first. I’ll tell you how to vamoose to Mexico. No Butch / Sundance shoot-out. Guaranteed.

We plan someday to kayak Espiritu Santo island out of La Paz, Baja.

kayak

Happy Holidays!

I’m thinking of you, hoping you follow your bliss over the holidays, taking some time to do exactly as you please.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

– Ricardo

Northern Mexico

Dec. 1999

rick_mugThis was my first time traveling in … Mexico. The first time to see Mexican cowboys in their white shirts & cowboy hats; school girls in their incongruous but apropos Scottish plaid skirts; the colourful indigenous Indian peoples; the Catholic canoodling in public places.

Sure I’d flown many times to Mazatlan; partied it up in my 4-star Condo, dined in great restaurants filled with Gringos, danced on Joe’s Oyster Bar. That’s not Mexico, of course.

Actually, I never had much interest in backpacking Mexico. What little I knew of Spain & the Spanish speaking world left me “no sympatico”. (I later, after a trip to Madrid, softened this position).

mexmap

Spanish contributions to world culture? I could name Don Quixote, El Greco, Gypsy Kings, Picasso, Bull Fighting, Tapa bars, Tequila.

But Mexico seemed a land devoured by the cruel & rapacious “conquistadors” & the always ruthless but sometimes noble Catholic Church.

Cortés, young & ambitions, on arrival there, had all his ships but one destroyed. It was conquer or die. There was no retreat.

The Spanish colonial legacy, their “Black Legend”, is not a proud one. Historians are quick to point out that while heretics were being burned in Europe by the Spanish Inquisition, thousands of innocents in Mexico were having their hearts ripped out still beating.

Some of the Mexican tribes were blood-thirsty. I don’t think that mitigates Spanish sadism.

In the end, European disease was the main genocidal killer in Mexico, same as in Canada.

“New Spain” was a rich & fertile land: agriculture, fishing, mining. Gold & silver! I was struck that Mexico is geographically identical to Arizona & Texas, yet the U.S. is the richest country in the world & Mexico still a developing nation? How to explain that?

If California had remained part of Mexico would illegal “Coyotes” be today trying to cross the border into Oregon?

Mexico City

I loved Guadalahara, a terrific & scenic tourist town. But Mexico City was even better. I stayed near the central plaza, the hub of everything.

church

25 million+, a quarter of the national population. Some say it is a violent and dangerous city. Certainly I’ve never seen so many cops, soldiers, bullet-proof vests, & weapons.

Despite the reputation, Mexico is getting pretty civilized these days. The hard-core backpackers are mostly in central America where the road is wilder & travel currently less expensive.

I did meet one American who was robbed in Mexico. His night bus was stopped, men with machetes & guns boarded, they took everything including his passport.

Last year during a train robbery, a German tourist who resisted was shot dead.

Mexican heroes mount insurrections. That’s part of the problem. I got caught-up in a massive traffic jam / parade. Was the Pope in town? Or that other religious icon, Santa Claus?

No, it was a reenactment of the ride of Pancho Villa who, eulogized as a hero of the Revolution, is even better known as a bandit, murderer, & womanizer.

A bigger concern to me than thievery is that Mexico is loud & polluted. Can you believe that recycling STILL hasn’t come to most of Mexico? The litter is dreadful.

Yet myself & everyone I met really enjoyed Mexico City. No problems. It’s quick & easy to get around on the world’s 3rd largest metro system (after Moscow & Tokyo) to the many well-run tourist attractions; museums, huge murals, Voladores, the Indians who fly suspended from a tall pole, tied-on by ropes.

pyramids

Just north of the city is “Teotihuacán”, the impressive ancient capital. It was larger than Rome in its imperial heyday”.

The Pyramid of the Sun has the same base as the Great Pyramid in Egypt, but reaches only about 40% as high. Still, it’s the 3rd highest pyramid in the world & a long climb up.

I enjoyed the holiest of Mexican shrines, the Basilica de Guadelupe, abuzz with pilgrims, tourists, & pickpockets.

maryMexico’s “most binding symbol” is the dark-skinned Virgin of Guadelupe, a manifestation of Mary who magically appeared to a Mexican Indian in 1531. Her cloaked image is everywhere.

At the marvelous Museum of Anthropology I finally got to see the famous, mysterious giant stone Olmec heads; mysterious because (carved about 1000 B.C.) they have Negroid features, famous because Homer Simpson has one in his basement.

(By the way, “Los Simpsons” is a big hit here.)

San Miguel de Allende

Near everyone loves this charming colonial town. Cobbled streets, public squares, classy restaurants. An arty & crafty treat.

It used to have quite a Bohemian reputation — Neal Cassady, the real-life hero of Jack Kerouac’s “On The Road” died here.

Later San Miguel attracted artisans from all over the world. The quality of the art is high. If you’re into hoarding useless possessions — I mean, collecting inspiring ethnic art — you should rush down here.

Me? I’ve almost completely given-up on travel trophies. But I did attend the Taiwan Ballet in one of the beautiful historic theatres. Lovely.

Guanajuato

guan

Accompanied by Anna & Chris; tall, slim, raven-haired identical twins from Brazil, I went next to Guanajuato. Gorgeous mansions, colourful houses, excellent restaurants — one of Mexico’s most fascinating colonial cities.

Not a single street runs along a straight line; this is a town crammed into a steep ravine. Why the impossible topography? Because one of the richest veins of silver was discovered here in 1558. For 200 years it produced about 35% of the world’s silver.

Most zany of all, the city traffic passes underfoot through a confusing maze of tunnels. That made for a nice pedestrian tourist experience.

The wealthy silver barons built fantastic cathedrals in which they could repent their guilt — in some mines as many as 5 workers / day died of accident or illness.

Copper Canyon

I was keen to HIKE in Mexico though hiking as a recreational pursuit is astonishingly undeveloped there.

High up on the continental divide is Creel, population 4000. Saturday night. As in any other cowboy town, there’s nothing to do but drive the truck up & down the main street with windows open, Mexican music blaring.

Sunday was “tranquillo”. As I climbed up to welcoming Jesus on the hill, I reflected that I like Creel. It turned-out to be my favourite town in Mexico.

I was befriended (that can’t be the right word) by a Mexican con-man named Rene. Over Huevos Mexicanos he told me a version of his life story. Rene’s a vagabond wandering Mexico without money or possessions, living day-to-day by his wits and charismatic personality. He learned his English working illegally in Brownsville, Texas transferring goods from Mexican to American trucks — $20 / truck. He made it sound easy to cross the border.

Creel is not much more than a little whistle-stop lumberyard & outfitting town. The trains rocked my little Hotel room beside the tracks. But this is the jumping-off-point for the slightly famous Copper Canyon.

The Copper Canyon is deeper in places than the Grand Canyon & covers 6 times more territory as the rivers carve through Mexican highlands to the sea.

Batopilas

canyonFrom Creel we took a spectacular 7 hour drive down into the bottom of the canyon to the quaint, photogenic village of Batopilas. Here you’ll find more horses on the street than motor vehicles. One hombre rode by reins in one hand, a grande beer in the other.

Down in the canyon, most of the population are indigenous Tarahumara Indians. The girls & women look wonderful in their traditional costume of brightly coloured pleated skirts & accessories. (They adopted this from the fine Spanish ladies they first saw 300 years ago.) Most of the men have assumed the Western uniform of jeans & baseball cap.

Traveling I’m generally not much interested in the native peoples. It’s usually the same sad story we’ve seen in Canada.

But the Tarahumara (the “People who Run Fast”) are fascinating. Traditional hunters, the men run down deer for food — literally run deer ‘til exhausted. The men can’t run faster but they can run much, much longer.

The Tarahumara first appeared at the Mexico City Olympics marathon. Later boostering Americans started bringing them up for ultra-marathons. The big race is in Colorado, the “Leadville 100” miles. In 1993 Tarahumara finished 1st, 2nd, & 5th though they run in home-made sandals.

Next I climbed on to the famous Copper Canyon Train; 655 kms, 39 bridges, 86 tunnels, fantastic scenery. It’s an amazing ride, one of the great railway journeys of the world.

Good trip.

But how will I get home for Millennium Eve? I have no ticket, no plan.

Adios!

– Ricardo

mucho gusto! – Mexico

Nov. 1999

rick_mugHola from Mexico!

Land of the Catholic Church, strong family ties, music, fiesta, sentimentality. And Tequila!

My parents are retired, “snowbirds” for the past 10 years. They summer in Crawford Bay, B.C. & winter in the States. They’ve been wanting to try Mexico instead of the U.S. for a couple of years, but had some concerns, especially regarding taking their Jack Russell, “Pete”, across the Mexican border.

We did some research on Mexico, then finally decided to head for Lake Chapala, near Guadalajara. I drove down with them.

mapal

This year my Dad had a cataract removed, and an “intraocular” (IOL) artificial lens attached to his good eye. The doctor was reluctant to do the procedure since my Dad is blind in the other eye (hockey accident). However, the operation was a great success, his vision restored to near 20-20. He’s much more confident behind the steering wheel.

We shared the driving, rolling down to Mexico in my Dad’s home-made fishing camper.

Driving in Mexico is interesting. We alternated modern 4-lane toll roads with narrow 2-lane “free” highways where huge trucks pass each other full-speed, no more than a hand width between them. The detours, unmarked speed bumps, and unexpected potholes are even more dangerous.

I love the deserts. But the best scenery was south of Puerto Vallarta where the narrow road snaked through lush jungle-covered canyons. Many rivers, beautiful waterfalls. Little yellow butterflies blew “like confetti” (Ronald Wright) around the truck.

We advanced steadily from RV Park to RV Park. The most modern was spectacular “El Mirador” in San Carlos, a yachtsman’s paradise. Here we watched Canada geese still flying south. I scrambled the rocky upthrusting one morning.

sancar

I liked, too, a tiny well-run Mexican place in Lo de Marcos with its earth-shuddering breakers. Pelicans, sandpipers, & hermit crabs.

And the next night at Boca de Iguana, near Barre de Navidad, where the beach had a haunted, shipwrecked feel. I found a shore cave with a shrine to the Virgin, empty but obviously still used by the faithful. The votive candles were still burning. On the other end of the beach was a deserted, crumbling wreck of a Hotel. Was it destroyed by earthquake? The ghosts couldn’t tell me.

Our immersion in the RV lifestyle was a bit of a shock — I shouldn’t have been surprised — we LIKED it. You meet people from all over North America & Europe. They are even more friendly & helpful than backpackers.

Retired folks join “Caravan Clubs” with names like “Tracks” & “Escapees“, read magazines like “Coast to Coast” & “Family Motor Coaching”. Many are fanatically devoted to their high-tech motor homes. It seems they all travel with their pets.

Still, RVers have too much time. In one park we saw a Swiss couple cranking out German beer-drinking tunes on mechanical music boxes which they’ve hauled all over North America. Everyone brought lawn chairs over to watch. The highlight of the day. It was surreal.

We aren’t RVers. My folks want to rent. We were headed to the most popular retirement destination in this country, Lake Chapala, near Guadalajara. High on the Mexican plateau, Chapala is claimed to have the best climate in the world, though the lake itself is polluted & receding.

En route, I was looking forward to seeing, but then disappointed by, the usually spectacular “Volcan de Fuego de Colima”. The smoke & lava wasn’t visible when we drove by.

They’ve got great volcanoes in Mexico, though. In nearby Pariutin, in 1943, a farmer discovered a new sinkhole in one of his cornfields. He tried to fill it in. Ten months later it was an active volcano, 1700 feet high. As I speak, at least 2 other Mexican volcanoes threaten.

Reaching Chapala took us a week in Mexico. That was long enough in a cramped camper. Even the dog was going a little crazy.

When we reached the popular “Pal RV Park” in scenic Ajijic village, near Lake Chapala, we were all happy to have arrived. (Note: The Park was converted to owned condos in 2004.)

Here I had hoped to help search-out a nice rental unit at a reasonable price; to ensconce my parents in a satisfactory hidey-hole; to be the “Great White Son”. I anticipated about 3 days of pounding the cobblestones, hard bargaining, savvy negotiation, pushing the limits of my Spanglish.

Yup, you guessed it. My parents rented the first place they saw — while I was gone walking the dog. We hadn’t been there more than 40 minutes.

Even worse for my ego, they made an excellent choice. Couldn’t be better. A perfect spot in the very epicenter of gringo Mexico.

They rented a Casita (“little home”); very Mexican, fully-furnished, fireplace, private garden patio with fish pond as well as a roof-top patio with a view of Lake Chapala.

pal_1999

The RV Park provides swimming pool, Laundromat, clubhouse, 24-hour security, cable T.V., telephone. All mod cons.

The Park is littered with fallen oranges & limes. Cows browse just over the fence. At dusk the bird bath is asplash with noisy customers. The bougainvillea and other flowering trees in the yard are spectacular.

pal_1999bChapalla is a lovely town. I could retire here!

My Mom is a little paranoid regarding scorpions, though, especially the “deadly little white ones”. We’ve already met 2 people who have been stung.

I’ll set-off for home tomorrow. It may take 2 or 3 weeks. I’ll let you know how it goes.

But it’s been great spending time, taking an adventure holiday, with my parents.

Hey, my Mom actually has an email address for the new millennium. How about that?

Adios!

– Ricardo

Deprivation ‘tanks’ – Jasper Skyline Trail

Aug. 1999

Jasper Skyline Trail is listed by Gadd the best hike in the Canadian Rockies. But, to me, it seemed a disaster loomed. These jots were first posted in a friendship newsletter called the red-eye.

red-eye_logo

rick_mugTruth is, I’m a city boy. I like a VCR, recliner rocker, comforter, “munching high up the food chain”.

I used to ridicule my Saskatoon friends when they dragged back into town, hypothermic & mosquito-welted from their latest canoeing fiasco.

In those days I didn’t like to walk any farther than from my car to the 7-11.

This summer, back from the under-indulgences of Asia, I’ve been overindulging bagels, ice-cream, & hot tubs. Forget my philosophy of “Voluntary Simplicity”. Deprivation tanks!

I tried a compromise once, joining my Calgary hiking buddies on a Waterton Park trip — while carrying a Sony “Watchman”. As we “trekked”, I gleefully called out the golf leader board to my grumbling companions. Greg Norman was winning the British Open!

Yet during the summer of ‘99 I spent as much time in the wild as I could, returning from overseas specifically to hike.

Actually, there’s more adventure to be had in Canada than Asia.

I had been enthusiastically anticipating the JASPER SKYLINE TRAIL; “the best hike in the Canadian Rockies”, asserts Ben Gadd, our premiere mountain naturalist.

The Skyline is high, over half above the tree line, with some long ridge walks. Panoramic vistas!

We could see Mt. Robson, the “biggest” mountain in the Rockies (from base to peak) though not highest in elevation.

However, recall our miserable “late” Spring. When we phoned from Calgary to see if the hiking trails were clear of snow we were advised that “ski conditions were poor”. (This was mid-July!)

The Skyline problem looming was “The Notch”, a high, steep, windy mountain pass. If snowed-in, it would probably be impassable due to avalanche risk.

I was the most vocal nay-sayer; beefing all the way up during the drive from Banff, complaining in the toilet at the trailhead where we fussed with our packs out of the drizzling rain.

(I only agreed to participate because I couldn’t resist the chance to hike with a manly ice ax. Picture the “blue haze of testosterone”.

We rented those axes. We didn’t actually know how to use them.

One of the guys had lifesaving instructions scribbled on a napkin. But those of us who had seen IMAX “Everest” preferred to innovate in the manner demonstrated by the Jr. Tenzing Norguay. It was great fun “glissading”, boot skiing, steep slopes then falling into an ice ax brake-stop just before the jagged rocks at the bottom.

The rain turned to snow. We slogged through slush. Waded creeks.

My spirits improved when we pulled-out the Tequila & lemon-lime Crystal Lite, clearly superior to the 100 proof Vodka & powdered Gatorade.

The Skyline is a marvelous hike. Wild and beautiful, the mountains somehow more rugged this far north.

We saw mountain sheep, a statuesque mountain goat, and even glimpsed a moose dash across the path ahead.

By the time we reached “The Notch” the weather had cleared, the morning sunshine brilliant.

This was more bad news. The sun softens the snow. We’d been strongly advised to ascend by noon latest.

No matter. It was obvious the snowy pass “would not go”. Winnibago-sized chunks of ice poised ready to come crashing down from the overhanging cornice.

No one had ascended yet this year. The only 2 other hikers (Gita & Lars from Denmark) were dissuaded to “Notch” by an unwelcoming resident wrangler. Instead they proposed to bushwhack AROUND the mountain. This stratagem was seriously crazy, as we told them.

We loitered, indecisively debating our options, watching marmots duke it out (“The Rumble in the Rubble”).

025_marmot_attack

Suddenly John Long charged up the slope. He had had enough gab. I couldn’t catch him — “he was that damn fast”.

I have to commend John (a bachelor) for route-finding, kicking steps into the snow up the entire uncertain and potentially dangerous climb. We had consensus that one of the married men should lead. A single guy still has too much to live for.

We made it!

At the pass we were euphoric, scrambling to the top of the dry adjacent peak, posing for “outrider” cliff-edge photos.

Then — the most outrageous thing I’ve ever seen in the mountains. Two tiny specks appeared on top of the even more monstrous icy cornice on the opposite side of the pass.

It was Lars & Gita, the couple who had disdained to follow us. They had short-cut to the very worst possible spot on the mountain!

Somehow, by continued improbable dumb-ass luck, they were able to descend to the pass.

We back-slapped, had a big lunch boil-up in the sunshine.

The big, bad “Notch” was conquered. But, like many other victors, we suffered more hurt at the post-hike celebration than in battle.