“In order to write about life first you must live it.”
– Ernest Hemingway
EH forever sharing drops of wisdom in Havana, Cuba. (Photo credit: M. Kopp)
The Writing Life
Tag Archives: travel adventures
Parks Canada: A Rosy Welcome
Parks Canada initiated a fun program last year called The Red Chairs Experience. The idea was to place red chairs in special places within Canada. Visitors are then encouraged to discover their locations and share their experiences with others via social media outlets. It’s a cheerful way to help spread the wonder of our landscape.
Imagine my happiness when I stumbled across said chairs in Kootenay National Park. The pop of colour mid-winter is a boon. My guy and I were taking the short, but scenic stroll up Marble Canyon’s interpretive trail to the 40 m/130 ft deep gorge of Tokumm Creek to check out ice formations when we spotted this rosy pair.
A duo of red Adirondack-style chairs at Marble Canyon in Kootenay National Park. (Photo Credit: M. Kopp)
Although I was aware of the program before our discovery, this is the first pair of chairs that I’ve come across. Quick research suggested that 11 of these rosy duos can be found in different locations in Banff, 2 along the Icefields Parkway, 2 in Yoho National Park, 2 in Kootenay National Park, and 6 in Jasper National Park (as well as other parks across Canada).
If You Go: Marble Canyon can be accessed off Hwy 93 (17 km/10.5mi south of the Trans-Canada Hwy). The trail which criss-crosses the canyon is a short 0.8 km/0.5 mi one-way. Note: Stairs can be icy in winter; boot grips recommended.
Where have you discovered the red chairs?
Cuba: Colourful Land of Contrasts
“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”
– Henry Miller
The street scene below shows a typical neighbourhood within walking distance of Old Havana. It’s also the neighbour of a casa particular we stayed at in this chaotic and charming city. I’m not sure you can make out the goat’s head and two dead chickens lying on the right side of the unpaved access street just off the malecon, but we did have a moment of wonder about the reason for their appearance on the second night of our stay.
Colourful. crumbling Havana. (Credit: M. Kopp)
Less than a dozen doors down on the left of the narrow street shown above is Casa 1932. Fate smiled on us when a cancellation allowed us the opportunity to meet doctor turned designer Luis Miguel and spend a couple of nights in his 1930s-era Art Deco treasure.
Casa 1932 – an Art Deco jewel in the heart of Havana. (Credit: M. Kopp)
Leaving Havana, we took the “tourist” bus Viazul – visitors are not allowed to take the local buses – through to Playa Larga and shared taxi to Cienfuegos and Trinidad, enjoying the shift from hectic city to relaxed countryside and back again.
From classic cars to horse and cart – Trinidad’s cobblestone streets are a testament to Cuba’s duplicity. American beauties share narrow roads with grass-grazing classics. Word from the street is that newer model cars cost in the $30,000 plus range; classic cars run from $15,000 – $25,000. A doctor we met with a specialty and who teaches young doctors earns less than $450/month. She can’t afford a car. No word on how much a horse and cart would cost.
Classic beauty on the outside; recycled diesel engine under the hood. (Photo: B. Kopp)
Modern couple with affordable transportation. (Credit: M. Kopp)
Streets that look like war zones harbour priceless gems. Horse and carts ply the same streets as classic hulks harbouring diesel rather than gas engines. What you see is not always the full story. I have so much more to learn about this fascinating country.
Cuba, Naturally
“Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Another perfect sunset at Playa Larga, Cuba. (Credit: M. Kopp)
Travel Spotlight: Sierra de San Francisco
“On earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it.”
— Jules Renard
Sierra de San Francisco, Baja California. (Credit: M. Kopp)
A Break from Winter
Winter’s great – most times – but long, dark days and colder nights take a toll as the months begin to stretch on. Maybe that’s why we usually escape in January or February for a little break and swap ski boots for hiking sandals. Sometimes the destination is Mexico’s Pacific Coast or the Yucatan. Sometimes it’s Costa Rica or Hawaii.
Occasionally, it’s as close as the southern United States.
Sunset at Big Bend National Park, Texas. (Credit: M. Kopp)
Where do you like to go when you need a break from winter?
Amiskwi: A Backcountry Ski Getaway
Last year right around this time, we were twiddling our thumbs at the airport. The helicopter was late; something about a rescue. You can’t argue with that. We were itching to hop on our chopper and head in from Golden, B.C. to our home away from home for the next week – Amiskwi Lodge – but patience was required.
Bags and boxes and skis and poles were stacked high in the hangar. We paced a little, chatted a lot, took yet another bathroom break, paced some more – and then it was on. Rush, rush, rush – do this, don’t do this, put skis in here, bags in there, buckle up and we’re off.
Amiski Lodge – the view from afar. (Credit: M. Kopp)
We flew above the Blaeberry River, all eyes on mountains passes, avalanche paths and snow-covered meadows, as if it were possible to judge the potential for a good week of touring options from the air. It didn’t matter. The trip wasn’t really about the skiing, it was about the journey.
The backcountry retreat. (Photo: M. Kopp)
It was about forging new friendships over shared meals and dice games. It was exploring the thrills of open slopes, testing skills in treed glades and standing still to soak in views from ridge tops. But most of all, it about escaping the turmoil of the outer world to find a sense of peace – for me, at least.
The inner sanctum of Amiskwi. (Credit: M. Kopp)
Such is the magic of getting away, of travelling (near or far), of letting go and finding yourself within.
Turkey: A Hiking Adventure
The Ride
It all started when we asked Hilal, our pansyion owner, if he could help us arrange a ride to another town for a one-way hike back to Üçağiz. No problem, only 50 Turkish lira (TL). When he ushered us out onto the street, I stared slack-jawed at the little blue sedan. Loading our packs into the trunk and avoiding the rusted holes revealing glimpses of cobblestones below, I crossed my fingers that the packs would be there when we stopped.
The car tilted as the driver plunked into his seat, which leaned back at an angle and rested against my legs. I looked out at the driver’s mirror hanging on by a wire. The rearview was shaking so hard as the engine coughed and spluttered that I couldn’t look at it for long. Fumes wafted through every crack and crevice. The gas gauge read empty. No wait, it wasn’t empty. None of the gauges were working. We chugged slowly up the hill out of town and then sputtered to a halt. Stalled mid-road, our driver calmly turned off the engine, started it again, pumped the gas a few times and we were off. We could walk faster at this point.
Creeping up the hill past the bus parking, it was all looking good – and then we crested the hill. At this point, I had a second to wonder about the brakes before we started flying down around the first corner. Up and down we go, blasting past the big new shiny mosque in Boğazcık before coming to a rolling stop beside the Lycian Way trail – our destination.
The chariot. (Credit: M. Kopp)
The Trail
Standing trailside, we stared at the trailside marker. There were three route options. The sign didn’t point to any of them. It momentarily threw us for a loop, until a local came out and kindly mimed that the sign was angled slight off kilter.
Full of ankle bending rocks and rubble, roadway crossings, navigational challenges, spectacular and seldom-visited ruins, and close up encounters with all kinds of “wild” life – we wandered along the route for almost five hours through olive groves and abandoned homesteads before reaching Aperlae and the unexpected opportunity to avoid the remaining three-hour trek back to Üçağiz in the heat of the day.
“Wild” life along the hike. (Credit: M.Kopp)
The Boat
When the price dropped quickly from 80 to 60 TL, we hopped on board. Or would have, if it was our boat. This one – with sunshade and pillowed seats – belonged to another group of hikers. Our boat was on its way.
“Only 40 minutes,” the harbour master muttered under his breath. Forty minutes? Maybe we’ll walk.
“No, no,” he spoke up quickly, “15 minutes.” Now we’re talking.
Forty-five minutes later our one-armed captain jumped spryly off the worn little vessel, deftly avoiding the empty beer bottle just to his right. Not a chance there’s going to be a single life jacket on this puppy. Good thing the wind – and a strong one at that – was blowing at our back.
All aboard! (Credit: M.Kopp)
When our captain left the tiller to skip forward and share a tale about the blood money used to buy yachts like the massive black one pulling into the harbour, I clung to the centre, oddly cross-shaped pole. Sideways in the waves we went – only to be distracted as flying fish soared past.
I was almost sorry the trip was over as our tiny vessel nosed its way between a row of boats to pull up dockside in Üçağiz and the captain killed the motor – by putting two bare wires together.
“Focus on the journey, not the destination.
Joy is found not in finishing an activity, but in doing it.”
– Greg Anderson
Travel – for travel’s sake
The top of my hot air balloon in Turkey. (Photo: M. Kopp)
“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake.
The great affair is to move.”
– Robert Louis Stevenson