Some mug shots before we go. I have packed and repacked. It’s approaching 25lbs plus about 4-5lb spread in the front. Mind you, we are not going backpacking, just moving from one mode of transportation to another, hotel to boat to trains, we got it all coming. It’s a tolerable weight in a well balanced women’s EJA Osprey pack. I am guessing maximum walk would be a mile or two but I doubt it’ll be the same in SE Asia than EU.
Comfortable shoes…that’s been the next scramble since we’ve been back in SLC. These are my beach shoes, I have another pair plus my sturdy Merrell hiker sandals. Some TeVA mush flip flops for pool and shower. We have bought more shoes for CW and finally narrowed it down to a Merrell hiker sandal and a ALTRA Women’s Lone Peak 6 Trail Running Shoe. Both excellent light weight but sturdy options. She also has a beach shoe and flip flop.
We now settle down after our flurry of buying and returning sprees. Our itinerary sounds so enticing. So much off the beaten path and such a unique experience to travel in a loosely structured humanitarian based tour. Home stays and cooking classes. Temples and buddhas. History and civilization, life at its core. A painful past that is just that, past, don’t we all got it. Never judge, work hard and always smile! Be thankful for each day. Live it like it’s your last.
So me and my back pack will become close friends. I will grow stronger by the day and maybe shed a few lbs equal to my new load. 🤣🤗😮💨. All shots are in arms and we have our 90 days of malaria pills. The travel clinic suggested it. Enjoying the last load of laundry in wash and dry mode. What a lazy society and so lucky. Heading out for Seattle Monday for a quick early flight out the next day. Fly to S Korea and then 5hr flight to Ho Chi Minh. Enjoy the pics and posts coming.
I am sitting on Red Beach as I have been doing everyday for this last week. Some days the sea laps calmly at the pebble beach, other days it has full on breakers causing the rocky beach to tumble into the sea as the wave recedes. The rolling sound of rocks in water has been a favorite of mine since moving to Utah 30+ years ago although rolling rocks in water are from rivers in Utah.
I look out over the expanse of calm blue water, shimmering in the sun like diamonds in a jewelers light. Heads bob up and down with a few diehard swimmers covering the shoreline as far as you can see. There’s no sand castles to be built on this beach, better for piling rock cairns or separating the colors for more artistic endeavors. Daredevils climb the limestone rocks several meters from shore and do cannon balls to the delight of their friends. Sunbathers lie half naked on the pebbles or spend a few euros for a sun bed and are waited on by the cute bar tender, John, who slinks across rocky surface like a sure footed lizard, balancing his tray full of drinks. The air is thick with the smell of the salty, ion filled breezes, wafting off the sea. For today, this is my home.
We have spent the last 2 1/2 weeks on the shore. Each town has its colored pebble beaches, a few sandier beaches spread around, but more the exception than the rule. The water is warm and refreshing and clear as glass. Small colored fish swim in the depths and appear to be only a few inches from the surface, but in fact, are 3-4 meters down. The water itself is incredible salty, allowing you to literally sit in the water, head above and hands and feet quietly floating. I’ve been told by locals that this sea has healing minerals and some declare they are now cured of their aches and pains just from swimming. All I know is it has been good for relaxation, afternoon naps and loosening up achy backs from sleeping on poor mattresses. There’s a lulling found in the gentle lapping sound of the waves.
Seashore towns are perched on the rocky shorelines like a perfect game of dominos, each with its share of hundreds of ancient stone stairways going straight up from the nearest switchback cut out for streets.
Tomorrow we pack up our stuff once more to migrate deeper into Montenegro and the “black mountains” as its name translates. There are a total of 5 National Parks in Montenegro and we will hit at least 3 while we are here. The mountains are 1500-2000 meters high and rise abruptly from the seashores. Montenegro is not devoid of seasons. The leaves are beginning to show colors of red, gold and yellow. The mountains are not exempt from a good snow fall come late fall and winter. There are ski resorts and outside activities such as hunting, fishing, and tons of snow sports. The towns fall into a sort of slumber after being drunk with tourists all summer. The sun hangs low in the sky, the pace slows, the heat dissipates, the sea grows cold, and the nights grow long. Wood is collected to heat the homes in the mountains and the sea-shore dwellers, make necessary repairs and ready their homes for the next surge of visitors come Spring.
We just left Kotor Old City for Budva Old City, Montenegro. It’s like stepping way back in time. Being from the United States, my mind is blown and mesmerized as I walk inside the stone walls and tiny alleyways. There are mazes of a stone, rising up to steep narrow halls and well worn steps climbing up and up to unseen passageways. There are layers upon layers of historic old buildings
Both of these cities were built as fortresses as far back as 600 BC. Romans, Illyrians, Byzantiums, Italians, Hungarians, French, Austrians, Russians, Germans, Kings and Queens all laid claim to these Adriatic cities at one time or another. They have survived fires, wars, plagues and earthquakes. Kotor was know by many names through the centuries as was Budva. The Serbian Dynasty played a hand in making Kotor a port city linking it to the west. The Nazis took over from 1941-1944 during WWII.
Budva Old City
Budva was founded by the Greek King and Queen of Thebe in the 5th century BC, King Kadmo and Queen Harmonia. Sharing much of the same historical occupations, wars and catastrophic earthquakes as Kotor, it remains a city steeped in rich history and pride.
In the 2nd century BC the Romans ruled until the fall of the Empire. The city fought occupation of all the same ruling countries as Kotor. As a well developed sea port, commodities of olives and grapes, made it a city worth occupying. It’s history is steeped in rich myth and folklore which the generations have kept alive.
Both Kotor and Budva were decimated most recently by a magnitude 7 earthquake in 1979. Over a thousand buildings and structures were damaged and 100,000 inhabitants were displaced. UNESCO stepped in and over the next 4 years both cities were restored to their historical original dispositions.
An old well in Budva
We would encourage anyone looking to immerse themselves in an ancient city, culture and the ghosts of the past, to visit and stay inside the walls of these two Adriatic Sea-towns. To wander through and get lost in the labyrinth of passageways during the day and then to encounter the city nights as well. To listen to the peal of the church bells, to adore the many beloved street cats, to climb the old worn stairs to the upper cities and hidden doorways leading to fascinating bars, restaurants and guesthouses. You can just feel the energy.
Let me start by saying that Austria was never on our radar until one night, sitting in a Fado Bar in Portugal, I asked the couple adjacent to us where they were from. They couldn’t stop talking about their homeland Austria, with its beauty and diversity. Well, that got the ball rolling.
We arrived in Austria two weeks ago during which time we’ve ridden bikes along the Danube River, slept on a riverboat that followed, walked all over Vienna, Salzburg, and Innsbruck, and paddled down the glacier-fed Inn River on a white water rafting trip in Haiming.
Our eyes have seen soaring, snow capped mountains of the Tyrollean Alps, the wide river Danube, tamed by lochs and diversion dams, hundreds of castles, monasteries, waterfalls and bridges that span great gorges. We’ve walked the cobbled stone streets of cities that date back to Roman times with fortresses built on high plateaus. We’ve heard the chorus of church bells that echo through the canyons and valleys. All have brought joy to our hearts.
Austria is a cultural melting pot as well. A place that holds the horrors of wars and the pride of triumph over aggression. Many homes perched high on the mountain sides have hand carved wooden facades. Statues skillfully carved and fountains honoring royalty, scholars and musicians, are skillfully etched in stone and bronze. Roman gods and goddesses and mythical beings tower over us mere mortals as we walk by. Story after story of uprise and defeat are engrained in the lives of the souls that live there. The hard working people and the pride each holds in their heart to be Austrian. The wonderful smiles and cheerful hellos make even the loneliest traveler feel at home.
An indelible set if memories have been etched into my mind and captured in our photographs. It’s definitely worth the visit.
Our time in São Miguel was educational and full of new sights and sounds. It is a volcanic island, considered still active. There are 3 main calderas, the largest and most active is Furnas, last eruption 1650. Inside it’s caldera is several lakes of blue, green and orange. There is a section of bubbling hot mud pots and fumaroles and a small gyser. There is the most amazing castle on Lagoa Verde. It is intricate in design and has made itself part of the surroundings with the various lichen, mosses and plants, growing on the outside of its delicately carved spires.
The town of Furnas is geared around tourists visiting for hiking, bird watching, kayaking and of course soaking in one of the two thermal hot spring pools. most of the restaurants serve a meat stew baked in the volcanic ovens built into the ground. In Furnace again and to the Terra Nostra Parque. I was in heaven. A guy from Boston came to the island and created the most wonderful display of plants and trees from around the globe and they thrive in the humidity and rainfall. There are trees here that at one point were thought extinct and others that are true dinosaurs.
The soaring calderas are heavily draped in clouds and fog most afternoons, adding an eeriness to their already opposing height. They sweep up from the ocean in massive lava cliffs, battered by time and the elements for 300 thousand years, just a hiccup in geological time. They flatten out into a lush green plateau covered in verdant green pastures and farms. Dotted amongst them are the ancient cinder cones, some now also covered in lush green. From the flats the volcanoes shoot literally straight up with deep grottos and gouges cut out by the rain and intermittent lava flows. The flora and fauna is just as amazing. Every color you can imagine is represented here in bloom, insect, lizard, rock or foliage.
There was so much to explore on this small island, from grottos to wall lined streets, beautiful hidden beaches, hikes that when rated as easy, included a 350m rise and fall, some got you lost is thick natural forests and other lead along cliff sides and up into the caldera lakes. There are mirador spots (view points) all along the roads and picnic areas where families can gather and cook up meals. On one Sunday, a feast for St John was being celebrated in one of these little picnic parks. We were looking for the northern most point of São Miguel when Siri lead down a skinny dirt road surrounded by 10’ lava rock walls. We bottomed out several times before we found a pull out and walked the rest of the way. We were not let down. The views were incredible, the best on the island so far. There were basalt tower crystals of octagonal shape, not found in this condition anywhere else on the island. It was simply breath-taking. We walked back to our car and drove back up to the “town” and stopped to eat lunch. A small house stood on the corner that looked like a small cafe, so I wondered in asking if I could buy a couple beers, in my best Portuguese. A small woman sold me 2 out of her fridge (€2) and gave us a bowl of spicey fava beans and we blew kisses to a young girl and traded thumbs up. Another gal came around with a bottle of wine and 2 paper cups and poured us some wine. It’s always fun and scary at the same time to mingle with the locals on this level.
All in all it was a memorable experience and the diversity of flora and fauna, landscapes and brightly colored towns were like out of a fairytale. The work of Mother Nature and the care given by the inhabitants was a carefully orchestrated balance we were glad to experience and become immersed in.
Madeira Island is a lovely, lush green island that sits about 500 miles east of Portugal mainland. Volcanic in it’s development, the island has rich soil for growing. It is also mountainous and rich with thermally heated ocean pools on the coast, mostly concentrated in Porto Moniz and Seixal. Don’t be fooled by the “thermally heated” part, these pools are actually cool at 20-22 degrees Celsius (68-70 Fahrenheit) and quite refreshing on a hot day. Porto Moniz is definitely geared around tourism, the shops and restaurants close early as the tour buses leave and the place becomes a ghost town.
We stayed in a lovely, modern guesthouse in between the commercially run “swimming pools” and the natural “free” pools. We were within walking distance of many restaurants, most serving ice cream, pizza, and the local fare.
The last night we found a “local” restaurant serving meat on a skewer, or shish-cá-bobs at home, using Rodízio Grill style long metal spits grilled over an open flame served hanging from a stand for us to pull off as we wished. They also served the “catch of the day”, local breads and octopus based foods, including an octopus sandwich.
One thing we became well aware of while in Porto Moniz and then other eating establishments, sadly there is a locals price and a tourist price and the song and dance the waiters give for why your meal is more than the price in the menu is quite elaborate, ranging from VAT taxes to oh I made a mistake. They often will send out a coligue to accept your payment hoping you don’t notice. Our largest error was around $15 off at a restaurant we found a bit out of the city square. We haggled and still ended up $10 too high. Café Atlântico was the name of this restaurant. Also be aware that they will put bread and some sort of a sauce or perhaps just garlic bread with cheese on your table, much like chips-n-salsa at a Mexican restaurant, but then will charge you if you eat it.
This is one of over 150 tunnels on the island that connects the north, south and west part of Madeira…an engineering feat in and of itself. It used to take over 7 hours to go from Funchal to Punto Moniz, most volcanic islands make you drive up and over then down the other side, now it takes under an hour. Being prone to landslides, this was a viable option and made it easy to travel to all of the island. This was the alley/walkway into Câmara do Lobos from our hotel. The harbor. Trash Art
After several days in Porto Moniz, and driving around to the small villages above the sea cliffs, we drove back through the tunnels to Câmara de Lobos, a sleepy fishing town where everything is also straight up from the sea port. There is a system of steep stairs and “alleyways” to ascend and descend. This town is hundreds of years old and not built for automobile travel. They are making changes and building infrastructure to accommodate busses and trucks, but if you choose to rent a car…make it a really really small one. If you stay up on the hill, chances are you will encounter a small “street” which has two way traffic and is barely big enough for one often with the mirrors having to be folded in.
The road to our hotel
In town it was fun to see how the sea side villagers are taking plastic, tin and aluminum “trash”, and turning it onto colorful and imaginative artwork. Between the artwork and lights strung high above the streets, the atmosphere is quite festive. Stop in for a sample of a local drink called Poncha. It is said to be the drink of the fishermen, or their medicine. It is a combination of honey, muddled lemon and orange with some peel, sugar and aguardente de cana (rum). It is a traditional drink developed on Madeira and said to be drank before going out at night to catch the Scabbard fish, a long black snake-like fish with huge eyes and a mouth full of fangs. They come up at night to feed and the fishermen are waiting. The meat from these fish is not very oily so it doesn’t taste very fishy but has a mild flavor and firm texture. They are considered a delicacy.
After a week in Madeira, we hopped on an early flight to São Miguel, the biggest island in the Açores. We in arrived Punta Delgada before 7am…earlier than the shops open, with the exception of the coffee shops, so we wondered around the cobbled stone streets and sidewalks. The streets and squares were black and white cobbled stones in flowing swirls with intricate patterns. The store fronts followed the weaving streets, painted in pastel colors with rot iron accents on windows and narrow decks of volcanic stone. Some buildings dating back into the early seventeenth century. Churches and government buildings dotted the corners of the open city squares. Statues to the Archangel Micheal adorned buildings and reflecting pools in the squares. One journey ended and a whole new one was about to begin.
It’s our last day in Lisbon and we are hanging out at the Home Lisbon Hostel. It’s a beautiful place to hang for sure. Great people, great staff, bathrooms, a kitchen and good WiFi. We had a marvelous night listening to Fado. Fado is a traditional music in Portugal and other Latino countries. It’s a song that tells a story, similar to opera or country/folk music. Last night we had a male and female singer accompanied by two guitarist, one 6 sting traditional guitar and one 10 string round body guitar. The expressiveness of the singers and the guitarist was very dramatic and understanding the words didn’t really matter, they were transmitted through the operatic voice giving me the chills and bringing tears to my eyes.
After an exquisite meal at Tasquinha Restaurant, located on a street atop “the elevator”, an escalator in the middle of nowhere on the way up to the Lisbon Castle, Sao George Castle. We happened upon it at lunchtime and found out, from the owner, all about Fado, so we made a booking for dinner.
All of June is a festival of the saints. Every night there is live music and partying revelers flood the streets outside cafes and bars/pubs. Because Portugal is a safe place, many people from Ukraine come here to escape the war, swelling the population, making bookings in advance a must.
Everything slows down here except the traffic. While moving from our guesthouse, Archi-Pelagro, our Bolt driver (similar to Uber), was faced head on by an electric trolley driver who would not let us and the 3 cars behind us pass. Our driver got out of his car after a horn blowing contest, and reasoned with the driver of the trolley to backup about 10 feet so the three cars could narrowly pass beside him, driving over the curb. Driving in old town Lisbon is difficult at best. On the hills, the electric trolleys rule the streets.
We’ve walked, or rather climbed over 40 miles this 5 days. That may not sound like much, but with all streets at a 12-15% grade, it’s quite an achievement. Liken to climbing the Eiffel Tower and back down. Most streets have narrow cobbled stone travertine walkways and other pedestrian walkways through what we would consider scary or unsafe back in the states, but here they are old alleyways, brimming with history. One of the streets/alleyways last night contained a sign and photos of the elderly residents of the street and recognition of how they’ve become iconic influencers during their lives. So cool!
We have been planning our adventure as we go along. Last night we sat beside an Austrian couple on holiday, driving from their home in Austria to Portugal and back. I asked them if they had a week in Austria, what would they do? Non-touristy stuff. Francesca started going in about the Danube River from Passau, Germany all the way to Venice via a self-guided electric bike tour. Now how totally cool is that?! An e-bike here is more like a moped, and a Pedelc, is an electronic assist bike. We spent the morning looking into these trips and planning our trip after the Azores.
Our next stop is Madeira and The Azores. The Algarve coast is the beginning of the Mediterranean Sea. We found the perfect town to visit about 50 miles west of Faro, Portugal, Carvoeiro, Portugal. There is just about anything you could want from sea kayaking, to hiking cliffs and dunes. Stay tuned for a post.
We set out from Utah over a month ago. We said our farewells and hopped on a plane, one carry-on sized roller bag each, one shared large backpack, and a small carry-on pack each. All our worldly possessions in those bags. It was a bittersweet parting, but the world has become our oyster, and we plan to explore it for a few years. Our goal is to find somewhere we can settle down for a while, but never long enough for the grass to grow under our feet.
Our first stop was Ireland, an incredibly enchanting isle, full of wonderful food, drink, music and genuinely kind people. The scenery was jaw dropping gorgeous, the roads narrow and windy. We rented a camper van from Indie Campers out of Dublin…once a van lifer it’s so hard to break away from the freedom it affords. Our challenge…driving on the left side of the road, in a right hand drive stick shift.
I, being the navigator, was also reminding Chris to turn left stay left and turn right stay left as well. I’d say that after 5 days, she developed the muscle memory it takes to take on manning the controls on her own. For the next few weeks I still had my place not only getting us were we needed to be safely, I gradually returned the turn signals to her. She did splendidly, even coming to complete stops when a large truck or bus was barreling down on us. Next came the round-about or traffic circle. There were normally 3 to 5 exists out of each one it was just picking what one would take you where you needed to go. Mostly we had GPS to tell us where to go. I would sit with my arm out like a compass needle pointing our way through each and operating the turn signal as Chris shifted. What a team we made!
I think what I loved the most about this fine country, was the architecture and the accompanying tales of the families over hundreds of years. Some buildings were built as far back as 1200. Tales of Vikings, Norse, Kings, and many other European invaders and religious conquests.
Political and religious history all incredibly fascinating, and standing in front of you was the building that saw all this history and still stood tall. Generations upon generations of land ownership and the hard work it took to eek out a living. Stories of whole villages wiped out by famine, war or plague. The flight of millions across uncharted waters to the New World of America. Strong and proud people.
Scotland was our next stop. We had made no plans except to rent another van and see where it took us. After the first few days in Ireland, we were in a bit of a panic about driving for another two weeks. Our initial plan was to drive the 515 +/- miles around the North Coast 500. It is a windy, mostly single track, paved road that hugged the north west coast all the way to the most northern tip of Scotland and back down the north east coast. We had seen pictures of the roads, but it was the scenery that was the biggest pull.
When we picked up the van we were thoroughly convinced that we didn’t have the driving skills, or perhaps courage, to take it on, so we began to make other plans. We made our way to Inverness, the start of the NC500 and booked a pitch at a wonderful campground. It was here that an older British man in a camper asked us if we were going to drive the NC500? I stood there as he explained the beauty and the chance to see huge cliffs and mountains. He was so convincing that we could do it, we had to give it a go.
The North Coast 500 started out as a big 4 lane road that meandered through bright yellow fields of grape seed farms, shaggy cows and fields of sheep grazing on the intensely green fields. The first real choice is whether to drive clockwise or anti-clockwise. We chose to do it clockwise so we could get a little more time driving under our belt before we tackled the 12-15% grades on the most northern end. This proved to be a wise move since most do it anti-clockwise. The roads quickly became narrow with a soft side, if at all. We were happy that the Scots weren’t as rock wall happy as the Irish and we didn’t feel that we’d take out the side of the van.
Passing became a common occurrence. It was quite simple really. One vehicle coming would pull off in a ‘passing place’ and flash their lights signaling to the oncoming driver to pass as they waited. This meant that you not only needed to pay attention to the road, but also look further ahead, sometimes a mile. The worst was the big truck, of which we didn’t pass many the first few days. They owned the roads and would rarely even slow down when passing and hardly ever stopped for you to pass. The tour buses as well would take their half out of the middle and some. We found both quite rude. There was one road right off that cautioned campers not to use it and an alternate route, 17 miles out of the way, was recommended. We sided on caution and the drive was spectacular. At the end of everyday of driving tho, Chris was spent. A cold beer was always waiting in the fridge.
Wild camping is allowed in Scotland. There are only a few rules. Don’t block and entrance or road, don’t park in a passing place and mind private property. We didn’t make any reservations hoping we could access some of these wild camping areas. We passed by several lovely pull offs that other campers had chosen but never did wild camp. Mainly because we didn’t want to use the toilet in the van to do anything but pee. The second reason was the fridge in the van ran off the batteries if not plugged in. Our van we built had solar so wild camping for weeks was not an issue. Here tho, if the fridge drew down the battery, there was no AAA or roadside assistance that could bail you out. Established campgrounds cost between €\£ 24-38 a night and all had running water and electric hook ups. This gave us peace-of-mind but also an added expense we didn’t plan on. So be it…from that first night on we made reservations.
We gave ourselves 9 days to do the whole route. By the time we reached Ullapool on the middle west coast however, the roads were getting steeper and the traffic heavier. We chose to head an hour and a half, which really meant 2-3 hours and set out across the middle to Golspie. From there we headed up to the north anti-clockwise, to John O’Groats and Dunnet Bay for a 2 night stay. The huge cliffs were a rookery for seabirds and wind swept green grasses grew right up to the tops, creating an incredibly stark contrast. We camped at Dunnet Bay right at the edge of the sea and nestled in the grass covered dunes. The next morning we set off for the Northern most part of Scotland for an obligatory photo shoot by the John ‘O Groats pole, then headed back down to Inverness and back across to Edinburgh.
The next morning we turned in the van for good. After driving in Ireland and Scotland for a month, it is time to move on to our next stop. Portugal!
The fun part of traveling is culture and how it effects everything from the architecture to the music.
We landed in Edinburgh on Sunday and were picked up by some friends we met in Nepal and have stayed in touch with for the last 4 years. The internet makes the world so small and staying in touch so easy. Ivy and Leo made us feel right at home and put us up for the night. The next day we were escorted into Edinburgh by our new found tour guide and treated to a lovely history lesson.
We next picked up our camper van and headed out on new roads in a new country. Off to Perth for a quick walk-about and to admire the beautiful city which seemed abandoned vs Edinburgh. I felt a bit of sadness for the shops and owners, but I am a foreigner so what do I know.
We have traveled today to Inverness for another overnight on our way to the NC 500, a ring road around Scotlands most northern coastline. Ancient coastal cities of Highland Scots and Viking cities of old. We are hoping for fair weather travel and not so narrow and windy roads.
One of the best things to do when in these wonderful lands is to enjoy the local pubs and a bit of the local folk music. Dance and sing if you choose to do so. So much history and heart in each song. A fun way to end a long days travel.
Today, we close the circle. Our travels through Ireland will conclude in 24 hours from now. Still, to this day, I’m not over the beauty. The thousands of shades of green. The incredible rich, vibrant colors of all the many flowers blooming as far as the eye can see. The hundreds of castles, churches and abbeys, holding the past inside their rocky, vine covered walls, like ancient time capsules. The bright smiles and chipper hellos from locals and travelers alike. The numerous small towns with their brightly painted buildings and historic pubs. I doubt that the memories will fade anytime soon.
I think the most interesting was hearing stories of the struggles of the proud, hard working Irish. The stories of sorrow and triumph. The strong, proud individuals that tried to make a difference for their countrymen in the time of need. The big men and women with large hands and kind hearts. The thick accents that change slightly as we traveled from county to county.
There were many times that I would be listening to our driver and I could envision the people he was talking about laughing and a dozen small children running around underfoot. The homes and land passed down through generations upon generations. The miles and miles of rock walls, the sheep dotting the green hillsides in white and pastel colors, splashed upon their backs showing ownership. The border collies running after them. Life, so simple and so hard.
Two Travelin' Chicas... 