Life on the Edge

For the past few weeks, we've been traveling in an area of the Indian Himalaya just west of the Chinese (occupied Tibet, actually) border. The area bears little resemblance to the India of the plains to the south. The population, except for the few intra-border 'colonialist' (i.e. Hindu flatlander) business owners encamping to make money, is mostly Buddhist. In places closer to the Hindu areas, the temples' decorations have adopted a hybrid of the two religions. To my eyes, it doesn't seem to matter so much what religion one practices in mountains like this. The monumental and austere beauty draw out your humility and reverence.

Water is a valuable and scarce resource. Until the past decade or so, when the area was opened up to travelers, farming has been the only way of life in these parts for all of its history. We aren't talking the kind of farming you might be familiar with in the States. This is subsistence level farming on limited, mountainside terraces, irrigated by small streams, growing only the few crops that will survive at this altitude (peas, barley, potatoes, lentils and a few other beans). Life on such a precarious edge leaves scant room for climatetological variation. If the snows don't fall in sufficient amount to provide water, these people are, in the fullest sense of the phrase, high and dry.



In many villages, they have water shortages and ration to certain times of day. To the humble and reverent, you can add that these mountains definitly make you feel vulnerable.

Access of Evil

If you question the damaging effects of media consolidation and and unquestioning press, see the below article in the current, on-line issue of the Nation magazine.

Link

Access of Evil
by AMY GOODMAN

[from the July 3, 2006 issue]

If President Bush had stood on the steps of the White House with a megaphone when he set out to sell the Iraq War, he might have convinced a few people about the imminent threat posed by Saddam Hussein. But he had something far more powerful that convinced far more people: He had a compliant press corps ready to amplify his lies. This was the same press corps that investigated and reported for years on President Clinton's lying about an extramarital affair. The difference here was that President Bush's lies take lives.

In order to be able to get that all-important leak from a named or, better yet, unnamed "senior official," reporters trade truth for access. This is the "access of evil," when reporters forgo the tough questions out of fear of being passed over.

And then there is the embedding process. Journalists embedded with US troops in Iraq bring us only one perspective. How about balancing the troops' perspective with reporters embedded in Iraqi hospitals, or in the peace movement around the world? Former Pentagon spokesperson Victoria Clarke proclaimed the embedding process a spectacular success. For the Pentagon, it was. More powerful than any bomb or missile, the Pentagon deployed the media.

During the Persian Gulf War, General Electric owned NBC (it still does). A major nuclear weapons manufacturer--which made parts for many of the weapons in the Gulf War--owned a major television network. Is it any surprise that what we saw on television looked like a military hardware show? According to the New York Times, CBS executives "offered advertisers assurances that the war specials could be tailored to provide better lead-ins to commercials. One way would be to insert the commercials after segments that were specially produced with upbeat images or messages about the war."

After the Gulf War, Pentagon spokesperson Pete Williams jumped ship, but he was hardly crossing enemy lines. He became a correspondent for NBC. Just over a decade later, another Pentagon spokesperson, Victoria Clarke, gave up her position to work as a CNN commentator.

During the 2003 US invasion of Iraq, MSNBC, NBC and CNN--not only Fox--called their coverage Operation Iraqi Freedom. We expect the Pentagon to research the most effective propagandistic name to call its operation. But the media's adoption of Pentagon nomenclature raises the question: If this were state media, how would it be any different?

While the big players in the National Entertainment State deserve much of the blame, other major news outlets have truly outdone themselves in their total affront to the role that an independent media should play in a democracy. The New York Times and its former national security reporter Judith Miller were critical to the successful promulgation of the WMD lie, with repeated front-page, above-the-fold articles pumping the false stories about aluminum tubes and buried weapons caches, to name a few, all reliant on unnamed sources.

Sinclair Broadcast Group, which controls close to sixty TV stations, acts like a junior version of Fox News, with right-wing biases in its lackluster coverage. Sinclair refused to broadcast an ABC Nightline segment on which the names of killed US servicemen and -women were read, continuing the Bush Administration campaign to deny to the American public bad news about the War on Terror. Sinclair also broadcast with much fanfare a Swift Boat Veterans-inspired smear piece against John Kerry at a critical moment in the 2004 presidential race.

And then there's the Clear Channeling of America. Enabled by the Clinton/Gore-backed 1996 Telecommunications Act, the Bush-connected Clear Channel Communications, which began with a dozen radio stations, ballooned into a 1,200-plus-station radio network. According to South Carolina's 2002 Radio Personality of the Year, who believes she was fired for her antiwar beliefs, Clear Channel led prowar rallies, forbade certain songs from being played and silenced critics.

In 1997 the late George Gerbner, former dean of the University of Pennsylvania Annenberg School of Communication, described the media as being "driven not by the creative people who have something to tell, but by global conglomerates that have something to sell." And almost ten years later, it still rings true. We need an independent media. Democracy Now!

For Sale: One, not very recently used First Amendment

We have come down from the higher parts of the Himalayas to re-group. We're in a touristy town called Manali to get some supplies, eat some more varied food than noodle soup and Tibetan bread (like pita bread) and to catch up on communications via the Internet. That last task has become something of an indespensible activity since we've been on the road. It used to be that a backpacker's only access to news about the world came in the form of a few abbreviated, international publications such as the International Herald Tribune (published by the New York Times), Time magazine or its British equivalent, The Economist. These were expensive, limited in scope and tough to find.

Now, via the World Wide Web, I can and do get all same the news I read when I was in the U.S. I can't tell you how much more connected I feel out here because I can track news and issues I care about. Even when I was at home, most of the news I read came from the Internet. In the last ten years, I have grown so suspect of the agenda of "corporate owned" media that I sought out more balanced coverage from other sources. The web-link to one of those sources, Democracy Now!, is to the right of this text. I get a daily news summary from them every weekday.

In two recent articles, I was sickened to read about the introduction of a bill (the COPE - Communications Opportunity, Promotion and Enhancement Act) into the US Congress aimed at controlling content on the Internet. The bill has already passed the House of Representatives. They debated and passed it late at night to minimize media exposure. You can read the full articles here: (first article, second article). In a nutshell, the major telecommunications companies, those who supply all of us with Internet access, have lobbied Congress to allow them to have more control over the quality and cost of access. If their effort at re-writing the regulations succeeds, these companies will have the ability to limit the expression of anyone who wants to read, write, advertise, sell or otherwise communicate without censorship to anyone else via the Web.

The Internet was originally set up to be "neutral". In other words, anyone who set up a web site would be allowed the same speed and accessibility as any other web site at the same cost. Your corner video shop could offer access to their web site as easily and quickly as Microsoft could offer you access to theirs. Under the proposed bill, AT&T or Comcast or Cox cable companies or any Internet "provider" would be able to go to a company with a "rate card" offering differing levels of service at different costs. This is the same setup as those currently employed by television and radio stations (you pay more for prime time, less for middle of the night) or newspapers (you pay more for more space and better page placement, less if your ad is tiny or buried.) If you can't afford what a big company can, the "provider" could relegate you to a super-slow connection rendering your site too frustrating for people to use.

What's worse, if you have a message that the "provider" disagrees with, they can block your site or slow it down. Heaven help the Democrats or any other political party who wants to raise money or disseminate information for elections. If the company doesn't agree with your point of view, they will have authority to block your site or slow down access. This is not far-fetched. Companies have already limited access in such underhanded ways as (see link):

- In 2004, North Carolina ISP Madison River blocked their DSL customers from using any rival Web-based phone service.

- In 2005, Canada's telephone giant Telus blocked customers from visiting a Web site sympathetic to the Telecommunications Workers Union during a contentious labor dispute.

- Shaw, a major Canadian cable, internet, and telephone service company, intentionally downgrades the "quality and reliability" of competing Internet-phone services that their customers might choose -- driving customers to their own phone services not through better services, but by rigging the marketplace.

- In April, Time Warner's AOL blocked all emails that mentioned www.dearaol.com -- an advocacy campaign opposing the company's pay-to-send e-mail scheme.

The telecom companies are trying to plunder something they had no hand or interest in creating. Here is a quote from one Congressmember (Ed Markeky - Democrat of MA - speaking on the House floor, June 8th, 2006.):

CONGRESSMAN MARKEY: Let me just make this point once again. The Bell companies had nothing to do with the creation of the Internet. The Bell companies had nothing to do with the development of the World Wide Web. The Bell companies had nothing to do with the browser and its development. In fact, AT&T was asked if they wanted to build the Internet, the packet-switched network in 1966. They turned the contract down when the government went to them. And so a company named BB&N, Bolt, Beranek, & Newman got the contract, a very small company -- not AT&T. They had nothing to do with the development of the Internet, but now, at this late date, they want to come in and to create these bottleneck control points that allow them to extract Internet taxes, Internet fees from companies and individuals who have been using the Internet for a generation. It is this absence of non-discriminatory language in the Manager’s Amendment and in the bill to which I object.



In the US we have four major TV networks all owned and controlled by very large, multinational corporations. Radio and newspaper ownership is similarly consolidated. You can go to this site to see who owns what: link. In my lifetime I have seen the corporate media become a unquestioning lap dog for the Government and big business. The Internet finally allowed some diversity. It will be a huge step backword if this bill is allowed to pass as-is. See this website: http://www.savetheinternet.com. Contact your Congressperson and Senators and tell them to keep the telecom companies' hands off the Internet.

e-mail: For Senators go to www.senate.gov/contacting/index_by_state_cfm.cfm for Representatives, go to www.house.gov/writerep/

Here is a link with other steps you can take:

http://www.savetheinternet.com/=act

Into the Mountains

Today is our last day in Shimla, a summer administrative center for the Indian and, while it still held colonial sway, British governments. Due to the ridiculous heat on the plains, the British established Shimla as the summer capital back in the mid-1800's. Shimla sits at just over 7000 feet and the temperatures are much more tolerable than down in Delhi. We've had a nice time exploring the colonial legacy and soaking in the cooler mountain air.

Tomorrow we take a ten hour bus ride further east into the Kinnaur Valley. Over the next two to three weeks we'll be in a pretty remote region populated by people whose culture is more similar to Tibetan than Indian. For the first week, we'll be following the route of the old Hindustan-Tibet Highway which linked the British Raj with Tibet. We'll turn north into the Spiti Valley where the terrain should start to become much more arid. I don't know what if we'll have a chance to get on-line for awhile so don't worry if you don't see or hear anything.

'Bye for now.

Undiluted Pop Ghosts

Across the Universe?

A few days ago,we took a break from our regimen of two-a-day yoga classes and did some exploring around Rishikesh. For centuries, pilgrims and 'holy people' have come here to meditate and pay homage to the Ganges. Ashrams (religious living and study centers) dot both sides of the river. Many people claim that Rishikesh is one of the world centers for the study of yoga so Tami and I decided to focus on that while we're here and get in a bit better shape. I can vouch for it's effectiveness. I feel better than I have in months. Yoga is hard work.

Positive results notwithstanding, a break was in order. Other than yoga, meditation, reading and some light, outdoor recreation, there isn't a lot to do in Rishikesh. Like Indians, foreign travelers come seeking peace or focus. Some come just to take a break from the mass of humanity India can impose. People from the West haven't been journeying to Rishikesh for so long. That changed just over thirty-eight years ago. In February of 1968, four young men in their twenties along with some friends hopped a plane in London and came here to study with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (link).

Searching for something more 'transcendental' or meaningful than the global adoration and financial success that their music had brought them, the Beatles camped out for several weeks at the Maharishi's ashram. Most Beatles fans know the story. Led by George Harrison and John Lennon, the group agreed to explore the teachings of the Maharishi and his practice of Transcendental Meditation.

I knew the story as well but my interest was piqued by a French fellow we met on the train from Delhi. He'd spent a lot of time in Rishikesh and said one of his favorite diversions was wandering around the now abandoned ashram. The afternoon we went to find it, the temps were well above a hundred degrees. We shuffled through the heat passing the last buildings along the Ganges. At the south end of 'town', we saw a small, hand-lettered sign that said "Beatles Ashram - 100 Meters". The road petered out to a trail then died into a rocky river wash. Up the wash, we saw some wierd, conical gate towers among the forest.

















Behind the gate, a bent old man sat on a bench staring at the ground. He looked like one of the ubiquitous sadhus (wandering Hindu 'holy' men) you see everywhere in India. His clothes were loose and unkempt and he had a yellow and red stained bandage over the stump of where the last digit of his left index finger should have been. As I stood a dozen feet away, he didn't look up. He kept taking slow, resigned drags from his 'bidi' (bad smelling, cheap, Indian cigarettes) staring vacantly at the ground. This was a little odd. I knew he was there, officially or otherwise, to try get some money from anyone who wanted to enter. After some time I called out, "My friend!". He looked up and, continuing his vacant stare at me, finally communicated that it would cost us twenty rupees (about 45 cents) to get in. He shuffled over to the gate, jiggled the pad lock and dangled the key in front of me. Because there was no apparent infrastructure for visitors and he had no uniform I was sure this was a just another Indian shakedown.

I walked away and surveyed the wall around the encampment. We could have hopped over at a couple of places but, given that this was his turf, I decided to avoid a confrontation. I went back and offered ten rupees. Without looking up from his bench, he took long drag on the bidi and a couple breaths later, shook his head and held fast; twenty. I know that's not much cash but he and I both knew he had no legal authority to do this. He was just fleecing us. Even if expediency directed me to play along, in the domain of the black market, negotiation is always accepted. He wasn't being reasonable.

I walked away and surveyed the walls again. I knew we could have easily argued him down if he tried to do anything to stop us once we were in. There were, however, a couple dozen other sadhus a stone's throw down the river wash. Not knowing if they'd come to his aid if they heard a confrontation, I decided to pay the twenty and go in.


I had no idea what to expect (a helpful survival posture in India, btw). Ashrams come in all shapes and sizes. Some acommodate just a few dozen people, some thousands. I also didn't know how long it had been since the Maharishi's had been occupied. At the minimum, I hoped to find some relic establishing the Beatle's presence here, something to bridge the gap of time between their visit and my own. My main reason for having any hope was how far we were from where most pop fans would be willing to tread. How many Beatles fans have posed in the zebra stripe crossing of Abbey Road (link)? So many, I think, that any sense of unique 'communion' with the creative energy of the Boys must have been flushed decades ago. Of course the chances of touching or feeling anything 'inspirational' thirty-eight years down the line might be just as far fetched even here but, because few can make the journey and even fewer have a similar motivation, I didn't feel silly for being hopeful.






Meditation Buildings








It wasn't just that the Beatles had been on this ground. They came, unpacked their bags and made this their collective home for a month and a half. During their stay they wrote all the songs that would eventually make up the 'White Album' and much of 'Abbey Road'.







"Number 9?"













The visit didn't turn out as the Beatles had hoped. Due to some questionable behavior on the part of the Maharishi (link), John and George (the final two Beatles remaining) and the last of the entourage hastily packed and left the ashram. John said later, "There is no guru. You have to believe in yourself. You've got to get down to your own God in your own temple. It's all down to you, mate."

For our part, Tami and I had a hell of a day. The whole thing was like a spooky treasure hunt. We found strange meditation buildings that would merit historical preservation status on their own (see Tami's blog). We dodged monkeys and and a bat. I reflected on the comingling of cultures and how those have evolved since 1968. I thought long and hard about muses and gurus, pop and otherwise. For sure we had a day we'll both remember for a long time.

It's On

Today we begin our journey toward and ultimately into the Himalayas....and none too soon. The heat for sure is on but the excitement of the trip is on even more. The only other time I visited India was in 1994-5. Over the following three or four years, a day literally did not pass without some thought or memory of India passing in my mind. I'm not sure why I feel so at home here. Sure....it costs a fraction of what it costs to live in the West but so do many other developing countries. Now that I'm back, I see that there is something in the way the people interact, the way they make their lives that inspires me. At first, I likened life here to the fabled times of New York City; times of the Bowrey Boys and fast talking hustlers in Times Square. Now, I think it goes deeper in the human experience and farther back in time. Being here is more like being in a Charles Dickens novel. For the vast majority of the populace, life is hard. There are over a billion people here and the cities are full of characters and hustlers and saintly older folks who have seen more weird things than a CIA agent but can still stay circumspect and chuckle at misfortune that would send most Americans to the liquor cabinet or worse.

Today we take the train to Haridwar, one of the holiest places in Hinduism. There, the sacred river Ganges emerges from the mountains to begin its long flow over the plains to the Bay of Bengal. We'll follow the river north and west to the "Cow's Mouth", the glacier that is its source high in the Himalaya. I'm sure the way will be populated by folk who'll be sure to teach us a thing or two about what it is to be human.

Bang...Boom...Pow!

The national symbol of the Netherlands. They´re EVERYWHERE!

















Bang!....across the US.

Boom!....Spain oddessy.

Pow!....Paris romance.

Zing!...Amsterdam and goodbye to the West.

Has it really been over four months since we pulled out of the driveway? Oh yes.
Today we leave for India. The weather reports we see on the internet show the temperature in New Delhi to be around 43 degrees Centigrade, that´s about 111 degrees Fahrenheit for you non-metric folks. Gulp...!

Just before we left Arizona, Tami and I watched the movie Castaway with some friends. The scenario of a man, a person, having to do without all his creature comforts got under my skin. We were about to embark on a long drive and camping trip across the US in the dead of winter. After that, we were shedding the truck and most of our gear in Michigan and paring down to backpacks. Less and less again.

Now we´re on the brink of leaving for the real destination we dreamed about, Asia. Our time in Europe was capped by a reunion of sorts. We were lucky enough to stay in Amsterdam with our gracious and wonderful friend, Karolina. Captain Ken Phelps, Richard `Manhattan` Janda and Johan from Stockholm all made the trip to visit with us. The company has made being on the road feel a lot like home.

Yesterday, as we were riding bikes around the tulip fields, I thought again about Castaway. Tom Hanks´ character dealt with all the material privations in stride. It was only when his imaginary friend, "Wilson", drifted away that he lost hope. I know that scene made me a little uneasy as we were leaving our friends in Arizona, the last friends we'd see for some time. As we say so long to our little reunion here and head further out into it, we certainly lose no hope but, more than ever, we think of all the people we know and care about. Know that we think of you and that you are with us.

Are you ready for 111? :)

Bye for now.

So long, Spain...it was nice

Spain recedes in the rearview mirror. Just as the Southwest of the US faded in our minds as we entered the snowy Midwest or the US itself faded as we explored Barcelona, a whirl of images and memories and emotions spins as we say goodbye. What a run it´s been. For the full picture, you´ll have to come over yourself and spend some days. For me, I'll always be grateful for the time we´ve spent there.

Two months in Spain don´t distill easily into a few paragraphs. The country varies a lot from region to region. Catalonia or Basque country are as different from Andalucia as Detroit could ever be from, say, Los Angeles or Miami; probably moreso. The terrain and climates vary. The food is different. The people actually speak different languages in different areas (and proudly so). The architecture comes in different shapes and ages. Commerce has far less homogenization than in the States. There are some national chains here but it´s nothing like the US. Small businesses seem to still have a strong foothold. Many people make their livings from small bars or restaurants or shops of one sort or another. We saw no equivalents of Rite-Aid or Wallgreens or TGI-Fridays. Good coffee is available in virtually every bar, cafeteria, restaurant; take your pick of food service establishment. Starbucks or Burger King or Mc-D´s had their presence in a few high-profile locations in the larger cities but we avoided them easily.

We found some olives in Valencia that we could not get enough of. I have never tasted olives like that. Combine them with a little Manchego cheese and red wine and you were set for a meal....something we did many times. In the month after we left Valencia, did we find olives like that again? No. We never even found olives in that style let alone of that quality. If you want olives like that, you have to go to Catalonia. And you know...that isn´t such a bad thing. That diversity you find along the way is what helps to keep travel interesting. You learn new things; sometimes about your world and sometimes about yourself. At the very least, I´ve had to add an entirely new chapter to my book of recreational nightlife.

I´d always heard that the Spanish start late and go long. Dinner at midnight might sound strange from a distance but, when most everyone is doing it, you´d be surprised how effortlessly an evening can slip by as you stroll down narrow alleys from bar to tavern taking in the sights. Tami and I both still find it odd that our schedules shifted so dramatically from the first day after we arrived. Jetlag caused us to sleep in allowing us to fall right into the rhythm of very late nights. We actually had a harder time adjusting to the comparatively early evenings of Paris. I can only imagine how lively the Spanish nights are in the heat of summer. If you have any propensity for the nocturnal, Spain should be on your to-do list.

My earliest thoughts about Spain came, probably, as I read For Whom the Bell Tolls in high school. I imagined a country with cultural roots in the mountains and on farms; a people that favored bullfighting, Catholicism and sangria. As we rode the train toward Ronda in Andalucia, Tami told me she had downloaded For Whom the Bell Tolls to her I-pod and that we should start listening to it since it takes place in that area. The story is about 70 years old but, apart from being as gripping and well written a tale as you can read, it gave me lots of insight about Spain. Check it and check Spain.

Adios.......

More on Walking

Tami - at about 9000´in Andalucia´s Sierra Nevada

So...about the photo on the last post. The snowy mountains behind the Alhambra are the same peaks Tami is standing in above. After a few days of staring in awe at the range that rose up behind Granada, mountains which I had no idea were so dramatic, we decided to try to do some hiking in them.

One additional ingredient for traveling with a backpack and without your own vehicle is a decent guidebook. Tami is the mistress of planning and Lonely Planet´s Spain guide has been our book.

We figured out how to take a bus over to some villages high in the valleys on the opposite side of the range that looks down on Granada. The trip took about two and a half hours....and we only got a little queezy from motion sickness. At the end of the bus ride we stepped off in the little town of Capileira. Here...



Yep...amazing. It was as nice as it looks. For those of you who like the mountains and the occasional fantastic, romantic vacation, we stayed at the nicest little hostal, Hostal Atalaya (www.hostalatalaya.com). Check it. We had a super clean room with a balcony and a freakish mountain view for about $45 (breakfast included). From here we did two nice hikes. Actually, we did one nice hike and one mindblower of an epic day of travel by foot.

The big day, we took off after breakfast (Tami´s note about our late starts notwithstanding) walking up the one, winding road out of town. The road only went a couple miles before ending but we thought hitchiking might save us some time on the uphill. There was very little traffic but after a short while we caught a ride with two tourists in a rent a car. We road with them just long enough for the lady to ask if I worked in radio (because of my mellifluous voice, apparently....LOL) and the man to tell us he´d been born in Pune, India to a father who served in the Indian army (don´t ask me). Momentarily, they turned down a side lane for a different, and much lower, trailhead and we resumed our walk.

The road climbed the spine of a steep ridge zig-zagging back and forth in switchbacks of half a mile or so. After a couple of these, we decided to cut the distance and hike straight up between switchbacks. This way we´d save time but also ran the risk of missing a ride with any passing vehicles...a risk that seemed worth it since we had seen zero vehicles since we'd gotten dropped off far below. So.....of course...as soon as we were up into the pines, far enough from the road that we weren't sure it was possible to make it back in time to get our thumbs out for a ride....we heard a motor. We started up the mountain double-time. This wasn't easy. The trail was steep and now we were getting into thinner air. We could hear the vehicle trace the switchback to our right first getting quieter then growing louder as it approached. The sweat literally poured off of me as the edge of the road came into sight. We were both gasping but laughing, as well. Once we cleared the road edge, we high-fived each other just as the van came into sight. We put up our thumbs but the van was full of tourists that had paid to ride up then cruise mountain bikes back down the mountain. They were full and, fortunately for our morale, they went only a couple hundred more yards and pulled off to gear up for their ride back down. It wasn't a biggie, really. By our map we were now less than a mile from where the road ended and the terrain in which we walked was the kind of high country we sought anyway. It was the trail (and our legs) from this point on and quite enjoyably so.

Up we went along the ridge. Mulhacen, Spain's highest mainland mountain, periodically came into view. We walked in snow as much as not which was good as the spring sun was toasty. Up and up. The thing (or, one of the things) about hiking in alpine territory, is that the scale of things is so vast you don't have a normal frame of reference for judging things like distance. You see a point and walk toward it thinking it only a few hundred yards away. A half hour later you're still approaching it and what looked like rocks on its side are the teeth of small ridges themselves. Fortunately for us, we were in Spain, it was a beautiful day, we were healthy and really had not a thing in the world not to be totally happy about. Every step was literally a small gift and we were fully aware of it.

It's times like this when you think things can't get any better but, because you're happy and open, they often do. On the horizon of the ridge above, I saw something that looked familiar but not expected. I had to wrack my memory to place it. I'd only ever seen anything like it in natural history books or mounted on walls but sure enough, those names I memorized as a little kid came back to me: Ibex.



I really didn't even know they were still extant and I had no idea they were in Spain. They look for all the world like something you'd find only on the African Veldt. Cool, eh? If that isn't enough, toward the horizon, many miles away, we could see the Mediterranean and, above that, through some sixty miles of hazy, maritime sky, the mountainous coast of northern Morrocco. Please.....you're kidding me right? Nope.

Over the next few hours we saw three "colonias", as they call them in that area, of Ibex. At one spot we saw a little scuffle between two bucks.






To the victor go the spoils.










We hiked to just above 9,000 ft. The trail was almost all snow by then and pretty tough going. Our legs kept punching through the crust sometimes dropping us to our crotch. With just enough hours of light left to make it home, we turned and headed back toward Capileria. The trip down was about four hours, the air getting warmer and more fragrant and the light coming in more acute and golden with each step. We got into the village just in time to buy a nice bottle of rosado, head to our little balcony, liberate our aching feet and indulge in the fading hour or so of twilight. Ahhh....... And we mean it.

Nosotros caminamos - "We walk"

The Alhambra; Granada, Spain - Sierra Nevada Behind (More about this in the next post)



For any of you who haven´t traveled as we are currently, as backpackers, you should know the activity that takes up more of our time than anything else is walking. For those of you who have, you know what I´m talking about. Far from being drudgery, walking was one of the things we looked forward to most. When you sit at a desk day after day and get around town sitting behind the steering wheel, walking comes as a welcome relief. You get exercise and you get to pay attention to everything around you rather than the radio or, worse, other drivers.

Some folks like to drive or ride bikes or...whatever...but, in my opinion, walking is the best way to experience a place, at least any place worth visiting. Tami and I walk to explore. We walk to get from one place to another. If you´re patient, you can get wherever you need to by foot. As Stephen Wright says, "Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time". We´ve made the time and now we are indulging our walking desires.

Perhaps the best part about not having a vehicle in tow is the freedom we now enjoy. We can move from one city to another and never worry about traffic or parking. When we want to leave a city, we go to the train or bus station, buy a ticket which, in Spain at least, is always reasonably priced and go. When we get to the next town we walk out of the station and catch a local bus or walk to a hotel drop our bags.....and start exploring.

So, we don´t actually walk everywhere. We use mass transit when we need it and walk the rest of the time. The fact that Americans in Europe get enamored of travel using mass transit is old news. This isn´t the first time for me either, but the charm certainly hasn´t worn off. Unless you have a pretty unique situation, you can´t live without a motor vehicle in San Francisco (or just about anywhere in the US). Here, we´ve covered some 1,500(+) miles visiting 14 cities and towns and it´s cost us about $450 - $500 each. It´s efficient, it´s reasonable and best of all, it´s freaking easy and liberating. When a whim strikes us…we hit the road.