The Blithe Traveler

And on to Chile! Take Two

Where we landed in what I can only describe as a little slice of heaven.

Oy! Only describe as "a little slice of heaven?" And I call myself a writer. Let's try that again, shall we?

Have you ever had one of those days where you just can't get it together? You spill your coffee on your white shirt in the morning, accidentally friend your boss on Facebook, the lunch place is out of pastrami, and to top it all off, you have a root canal scheduled after lunch. But, when you arrive at the dentist you discover to your amazement that there was some mix up with the x-rays, and not only are you scott free on the root canal, but your dentist feels so bad about the whole thing, he gives you his BMW Z4?

Well, it was like that.

I know, you are all like, WAIT?? DID YOU GET ACROSS THE BORDER??

Of course we did, silly! Dude in the Kiosk gave us the right paperwork, and that's all it takes. In fact, these four ones, my Irish eyes and the three Americans I travel with, did not require any sort of paper work for ourselves to enter Chile (well, we had to show our passports, but we didn't need visas). We just needed papers for that pesky vehicle.

To enter Argentina there was also no visa requirement, however, the three Amigos had to pay $140US (each!). The Irish get in free (1). There's a little foreshadowing in that, if you're the sort who keeps track.

So, we drove up to the border (and I'll be honest, my heart was pounding - I really get the whole Pavlovian response thing), handed in our paperwork, the border patrol guys told us that Mara had called and apologized for cursing and hanging up the phone on them (!!), they took our fruit and wished us a good day. Easy peasy.

Gah.

We drove to Pucon, CHILE!!. The scenery on the other side of the Andes was far lusher than on the non-ocean front side. The green was lovely, the lakes were beautiful, and as we drove up to our cabin for the first time maybe ever in my life, I was overwhelmed by our lodgings.

Mirador los Volcanes is the name of the place. Do you know what Mirador means? I didn't. I do now. It means  "gallery which commands an extensive view."

Here's the view from our cabin.

That's a volcano. We actually climbed it the next day.

And here's the cabin. "Cabin" does not do this glorious little home justice. The gentleman that owns Mirador Los Volcanos is exactly the sort of person you want to build and maintain your holiday home. There are maybe six or seven cabins strategically placed on this hillside. Each cabin has a view of the volcano, but they are separated by a great deal of space, and so each cabin feels completely private. From our deck, we could not see another cabin.

 

 

The cabin has a nicely appointed kitchen, spacious bedrooms, master bedroom with a view of the volcano, a sitting room with a view to the volcano, and the deck has a grill that is set up ready to use. The wood to start it is kitted with some kindling and newspaper. All you supply are the calories to strike the match.

Do I look happy? I was.

I didn't even have to cook. Yeah, Jeff! Vegetarians, please avert your eyes.

Or wash the dishes!

Not that you particularly care about the details, but there was a huge outdoor swimming pool for the children, there was an indoor heated swimming pool and some outdoor hot tubs. There were playgrounds scattered all over the grounds, so we let the children roam free and play at will. There was even a small flock of sheep to look pictuesque on the hillside below us.

In fact, the only downside was that our abreviated scheduled dictated only one night in heaven. A quick family conference decided it though. We are not the sort to be dictated to by scheduleds. We canceled our hotel in Valdiva and settled in for two nights here. I would probably still be there if Jeff hadn't carried me down to the car when it was time to leave. Maybe kicking and screaming. I don't know, I've had a few months to blot out the memory.

 But, if you are ever planning to spend a week or two enjoying the sort of outdoor adventures Pucon has to offer, I'd recommend Mirador Los Volcanos. It was perfect.

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(1) There is a good reason for this, by the way, and it comes down to how much it costs for someone from Argentina to travel to the US. I think the policy is called "Turn Around is Fair Play."

 

And on to Chile!

Or not.

Yea gods, even looking at these photos makes me shudder. The building below is the checkpoint out of Argentina at Paso Mamuil Malal o Tromen, to cross the Andes into Chile. Of course, you first exit Argentina, then find a similar station a few clicks away that ushers you into Chile. We did not pass Go, did not collect our $200, but, luckily, we did go directly to jail.

But let's step back, shall we? And re-create the moment.

We left the estancia on a beautiful sunny morning after having a spectacularly filling ranch style breakfast, and bidding a fond adieu with one part wistfulness and one part relief to our estanacia compatriots. It was a grand time, and one especially the children will look back on as being brilliant, but, it was definitely time to move on. Socializing was good, staying in one place for a short time was good, but the soles of our feet were getting itchy, COW was starting to repeat his stories, and it was time to hit the road, Jack and explore Chile.

The plan was a five day drive around the Chilean Lake District that would take us through Pucon, a sporting sort of outdoorsy place, to Valdiva, on the Chilean coast, and then around to Lake Puyehue, for a last bit of relaxation before we drove 9 hours back to Mara's in Neuquén to drop off the car.  From Neuquén we would then fly to Iguazu Falls for our last bit of sight seeing in Argentina. Before flying to Rio as our last stop before home. Whew. I'm tired just typing that.

So, the weather was gorgeous, we had a map and a destination, and as we drove, I nattered(1) on about how the worst of the travel mis-adventures were behind us. Yes, we faced a 9-hour drive after our Lake Tour, courtesy of Aerolineas Argentinas, but at this point, driving was internalized. We had to drive, so we would drive.

There was some fun stuff waiting for us once we crossed the border, but these crazy Monkey Puzzle Trees warranted a stop as we drove through the National Park. I just remember how happy I was. And the nattering. Ugh.

And then we arrived at the border and were told we did not have the right papers to cross into Chile. Boom, done, game over.

The border crossing people were actually quite nice about it. They spoke excellent English and called Mara to ask her if she could acquire the correct paperwork and fax it to them. Mara, bless her heart, cursed at them and hung up the phone.

What to do?? We could call Mara ourselves, but since we don't speak Spanish and she didn't speak English, it seemed likely we wouldn't have much more luck than the border patrol people. The border patrol people suggested we drive to San Martin de los Andes, about an hour away, and rent another car.

We drove. In stunned silence. To San Martin de los Andes. Pretty town on a lake. Kind of ashy in a volcanic way when we were there.

We arrived during siesta, which, if you are trying to rent a car to cross the border to make your reservation for the night in Chile, lasts from 9am until 3pm the following day. We skulked around town: there were two rental agencies - Avis and Rental Car Dude In a Kiosk - and we kept walking/driving/skulking between the two, thinking we'd go with whoever opened up first post-siesta. Kind of hoping it would be Avis, you can imagine.

But, Dude In a Kiosk popped open around 5 o'clock (and we never saw the Avis open, at any point during our stay), and we started negotiations. Dude in a Kiosk did not speak English, but, he had computer on his desk. Jeff sat on one side of the desk and, using the power that is Google Translate, flipping the keyboard back and forth between them, typed out and translated our dilemma. Dude in a Kiosk understood immediately and set us up with a rental. The deal was we couldn't leave until the afternoon of the following day, but if we could just be patient for another day in San Martin de los Andes, we would have a ride into Chile.

For those of you wondering about the finances of this, Mara's car rate was higher than Dude in A Kiosk, so assuming we could get Mara to refund us the time we couldn't use her car during our travails, we would not come out any farther behind than we already were in the transaction. Of course, we were going to have to find a room for the night in San Martin de los Andes, plus explain to our Chilean hosts that we were going to be a day late. And, there was the comfort factor to be considered.

Mara's car:  

Dude in a Kiosk's ride. Not much of a comparison really. High End Comfort vs Might Get You Over The Andes and Back.

In truth, I was all for hunkering down in San Martin de los Andes and skipping the fun and frivolity that awaited us in Chile. It's a fun kind of town, with boating action on the lake, hiking in the Andes, awesome steak and wine (hello! Argentina!), rafting, zip lining and a host of other tourist friendly activities. But, Jeff was pretty determined that we make it over the mountains. And, I couldn't really blame him. There are times to dig in and insist, and there are times to say, "Hey, we've come this far, let's just do it!"

So, we rented a room, alerted our Chilean hosts that we were going to be 24 hours late, took the kids swimming, squinted through the ashy haze and prepared for our next attempt at crossing the border.

And, true confession time, maybe the real reason I wanted to stay in San Martin de los Andes had nothing whatever to do with zip lines and pretty lakes.

 

Alpaca. Wool of the gods.

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(1) natter [ˈnætə] Chiefly Brit

vb

(intr) to talk idly and at length; chatter or gossip

n prolonged idle chatter or gossip

 

In Search of the Condors

The estancia is located about 25 kilometers from the rather small town of Junin de los Andes, Argentina, and at the bottom of a valley not far from this impressive cliff. An impressive cliff that is home to condors.

One of the riding trips that the estancia offers is to the foot of this cliff. There is a spot to tether the horses and then the crew hikes up another hour or so to the top, where you wait for the elusive birds. Sometimes they show, sometimes they don't.

Jeff and I made a sortie, early on in our stay on foot. We hiked up to the base of the cliff, but didn't have a great handle on how to get up over it. Plus, things like lack of appropriate footwear, lack of water, knowledge that we had to get back to the children, all led to a quick skedaddle back down. It's awfully beautiful up there, though.

Next, Jeff and Tom made another run at it. Jeff consulted with Miguel again on where to find the trail that gets you up on the rock. The pair drove our rental car up a bit of the way, to cut off the first few kilometers of climb, brought water and snacks, wore appropriate foot gear and gave it their best shot.

They still couldn't find the trail. So Miguel decided to lead a ride to the hitching spot, and give everyone who wanted to ride and hike a fighting chance to see the condors in action.

I would also like to point out that in the above photo you can see what happens on a day when the volcanic ash rolled in. Most days it was pretty clear. On this particular day, you can see the ash content in the air was quite high. Down in the valley where the ranch proper was located, we didn't have a visibility problem, but the ash made it hard to see across the valleys when you were high up.

Photo below gives you a clue as to why Jeff and Tom took the car the previous day. It's a bit of a hike to get to the place where you start the hike up the cliff. There's COW, leading the way. Dude didn't want to hike (he's EIGHTY), but brought a book and hung out with the horses at the bottom of the cliff.

If you peer down into this photo you can just see where the horses are tied. And a small line of people hiking (probably back down, given the evening light of the photo). Also good perspective on the effort people will go to to see a few birds.

Some views from the top.

Eye candy.

Gorgeous country. And clear of volcanic ash, just a day after the dust cloud shots.

But no condors. Win some, lose some.

Oddly enough, I'm not so sure anyone minded.

Tomorrow: Enough of this rest and relaxation! On to Chile!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gratuitious Riding Photos

There's not much going on here today, except me, sighing over happy memories.

For anyone who is here because they read Further Adventures of the $700 Pony, you might well remember that when my children were quite small, I leased the Wee Spotted, a small driving pony, for the purpose of introducing them to the equine species. While they loved hanging out in the jog cart and tooling around the farm, neither of them had much inclination to develop much in the way of a relationship with the Wee Spotted. Tom was ferociously allergic and Hope was basically petrified of anything that large.

Now that she has several years living sans any furry animals, Hope has dedicated her Life Wish List to acquiring something - anything - with fur. She was about as excited as a human can be to hang out on the ranch with the dogs and cats and goats and sheep and horses, and was pretty excited that she was able to head out riding a few times.

And I got to pony her. Now that was pretty fabulous.

The horses on the ranch were really fabulous in that they were well broke, but not dullards. Most people who come here can ride. The British family were pretty much weekend riders, so competent, but not brilliant, while the Polo family were just brilliant. There were generally several rides in any given day, with differing levels of ability, need for speed, and time in the saddle. So, Hope was able to squeeze in a few rides with the right sort of people.

Gosh, that makes me want to just run out and get the girl a pony. Actually, make that two ponies: one for her and one for me.

And off we went, into the wild.

 And, joy of joys, Jeff and I managed to go for a ride one morning. The children played back at the cabin, COW's family had set off for their pack trip and the British family were off on some jaunt or another, so it was Jeff, myself, COW and Miguel.

We had such a nice ride.

To answer Debbie's question about how much time I've had in the saddle recently, I haven't ridden properly since we left the US in ... when was it ... 2007? I did spend a few hours on horseback in Mongolia two summers ago ... but this was completely different. The Mongolian ponies are a hardy lot, but not exactly known for catering to the western bum. It was a bit like bouncing up and down on a rock.

These horses were just lovely. The saddles were comfortable, the horses forward and interesting, and the scenery just magnificent. All in all, it was just grand.

Tomorrow: Scouting for Condors

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas Day Roundup

And a Happy Christmas to you! Those of you who have been around for a while may well recognize our Wee Tree from last year's Christmas travels. Same tree, different continent.

But enough about that. I promised cows, didn't I? 

The plan for the Christmas day was a bit o' fun with cattle. For those of you who have ever spent time on a dude ranch, this is standard operating procedure.

Step 1, Saddle up the dudes.

Step 2, Ride to place where tame cattle hang out

Step 3, Have dudes dash about a bit behind the cattle, while professional cowboy (in this case gaucho) carefully diffuses the chaos the dudes are creating and actually moves the cattle - generally making strategic use of fencing along the way to facilitate maintaining some semblance of a herd.

Step 4, Put cattle in large pen and let dudes race around a bit

Step 5, When everyone is good and tired, reverse Step 3 and return tame cattle to original resting place.

I stayed at a guest ranch in Wyoming once where I swear two neighboring ranches just swapped cattle every few days. We moved them over to the Lazee Cow Timez on Tuesday and the Lazee Cow Timez dudes brought them back on Thursday. Anyway, moving cattle = good times for the paying customer, so that's what we did on Christmas. 

Although "we," as in Jeff, me, Tom and Hope, were not signed up for an actual riding holiday on the estancia, so we were the audience for the cow movers (except Hope, who got a bit of a bonus ride, as you will soon see). If you are wondering what that is all about, we're still a bit puzzled ourselves. The best I can come up with is that when you book time on the ranch, you have to book the riding part of your holiday separately. I didn't quite get that, so it was a bit confusing there for a while.

And here's where I remind you never to ask me for help arranging your holiday. Amazing what kinds of details escape me.

Net net, Tom wanted no part of the horses (allergies), but the rest of us all got in enough ad hoc riding time to be satisfied that we saw the countryside on horseback. We just didn't get to move cattle. This was fine with me. As you can see from the above, I'm pretty clear on what it's all really about, and was happy enough watching other people give it a go.

The basic game was that once the cattle had been moved to the pens, the gang were meant to shift the mommas to a second pen, leaving the babies in the larger pen. 

This is how the amateurs do it. Slow motion, not much happening on the cow separation front.

And the pro. It's really beautiful to watch a pair (because the horse is doing as much as the rider is) who can really work cattle.

And if you are really good, you can round up cattle while hanging on to a small child.

Yes, she loved it.

After the round up, there was some serious fun as the guests tried to rope the babies. Much harder than it looks (and, frankly, I don't think it looks at all easy). Generally people get a lesson or two on how to throw a lasso first at a stationary object, like a tree stump. Then at a moving target. This crowd went right for the calves and consequently didn't have a whole lot of luck snagging one.

This is Miguel demonstrating. I think even he took a couple of shots at the thing before he managed to catch it. Roping the babies is done regularly as part of ranch work, of course, when cattle require vaccinations, branding or castration.

For Christmas fun, I think it's over the top, but I suppose the cattle have a pretty cushy life most of the year, so, c'est la vie if you are a cow on a guest estancia.

It was hot, we were tired, and there was a roasted goat waiting for us back at the estancia, so, it was time to bring the cattle back together again and return them to their original resting place.

Beware, cute goats, here come the bovines! That baby was just darling. Alas, it may well be Christmas lunch next year, but please don't mention that to Hope. Also, note the strategic use of fencing in moving the cattle back to their original position: told you.

Ah, lunch.

Now that is a Christmas Roast.

 

 

The Ranch: Come Aboard, We're Expecting You

This is Julie, your cruise director.

And, Gopher, your Yeoman Purser.

Alright, enough with the lame Love Boat references. But the estancia was a huge departure for the likes of us in that we were actually spending a holiday with, well, other people. We do tend to travel alone, and rarely have we, while traveling, hooked up with anyone else. There was that time in New Zealand that we traveled for a few days with a family from Singapore, and we actually met up with an American family in Bled, Slovenia who had a little-red haired doppelganger of our own Hope. But, generally, it's just us chickens.

The ranch was full for Christmas, and since "we all" would be spending four or five days together, it was a different sort of situation than the likes of "us all" are used to. It was a bit weird, and quite fabulous, all at the same time.

I shall introduce the players, which will help you understand why it can be both weird and fabulous at the same time.

First off, there was a British family (English language speaking!!) who came from Paris with five children, age 2 to 10. I would like you to pause in your reading for just a moment to imagine what it would be like to manage five children age 2 to 10 from Paris to the middle of nowhere Argentina. Shout out to those parents, who really were awesome. And most emphatically did not bring a nanny, Ayi, childminder or any other sort of babysitter you can think of. They did all the parenting themselves. Well played.

And the kidlets? Can you say perfect? The seven children all met and spent the next five days playing together. Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous. In the interests of not invading their privacy, I won't be including any more photos of this awesome lot of young ones. These children had beautiful manners, were lovely to be around and provided the perfect playmates for our children. Joy to the world!

This creek, which ran right in front of our cabins, was the center of their play universe for the next five days. They built sailing craft, sank sailing craft, dredged, threw rocks and generally immersed themselves in water play. Brilliant.

And in the interests of verisimilitude, while I am the sort to accidentally pee in my socks and leave them in the back of the car for the next week, these folks were emphatically not that sort. So, while I thought they were pretty over the moon awesome, they were, at the end of day, not as impressed with me. So, we did not make friends for life. Shame, because the children really did get along. And we're not so very far from Paris.

Then there was the Caribbean King and his entourage. Okay, not really a "king" because his island is technically a democracy, but the dude owns basically a chunk of the Caribbean and raises polo ponies for fun and profit.

He arrived on the ranch with his beautiful, smart, funny second wife and her grown children, one of whom was an honest to goodness Polo Playboy. No word of a lie. He apparently has strings of ponies on the Caribbean-Island-I-Shall-Not-Name, New Zealand, Argentina and maybe even in England. He was gracious, funny, gorgeous, athletic, an amazing horseman, and well, everything you would imagine a Polo Playboy in his early 20s to be.

COW, soaking in the creek

The King, who went by the moniker "COW," (seriously, we called the dude COW) was 80 years old and may I please G-d be as kick a$$ curmudgeonly and outrageous when I am 80. I would also like to be Queen of some unnamed Caribbean island, but, frankly, that is asking for too much when clearly I am already pretty blessed and I am quite contrite for even thinking it. COW was most crabby when he arrived, after a long drive from his own Argentine ranch to this one - his family brought him along on what was meant to be a three-day pack trip to Chile. Ultimately, while they all headed off camping, while he decided to hang around and entertain us instead. I'd say that worked out just fine. 

Then there was the Czech guy, who was also pretty curmudgeonly, albeit fairly young, who made fun of my Czech in an almost, but not quite, nice kind of way (HEY, and WHO ELSE there was trying to speak YOUR language, buck-o!!) and who brought with him his own American western saddle, because that is how he rides back at home in the Czech Republic. How  many weirds can you find in that sentence?

Our wrangler, or Gaucho, was a fellow named Miguel who was outstandingly good with the horses and children, but rather cheeky with the adults. I shall be posting some photos of Miguel, who ran a close second behind the Polo Playboy as Christmas Eye-candy. No, wait, sorry. I meant, third, behind Jeff and the Polo Playboy.

The gang running the guest part of the ranch were awesome in a near-the-border-of-Crazytown kind of way. So, probably the less said about that in a public forum, the better.

With the meet and greets out of the way, we all settled in to enjoy our holiday together on the estancia.

It was, as holidays are meant to be (although you may have noticed, ours often are not), full of: rest and relation,

hiking,

making friends,

playing music,

maybe a little more hiking.

a few more friends,

and some beautiful scenery.

If it sounds heavenly, it was.

Tomorrow: The Christmas Roundup

 

The Backstory

Alrighty then, since we are nearing Easter, I'll do a quick recap to insure that all interested parties are up to speed before we launch into filling in the South America gaps.

1. We left Europe with all of our flights akimbo because there was volcanic activity around the Bariloche airport. The volcanic activity was well documented on the internet, so it's not as though it should have come as a surprise, however, my formal position on the Airline-In-Question is that it was irresponsible of them to book the flights, so, It's All! Their! Fault! And I hate them. There, I said it.

2. Our plan for Christmas was to camp out at a Fancy Schmancy estancia (ranch! with horses!), eat as much meat as they would set out in front of us, drink wine, ride a few horses, maybe do some hiking and fishing, and generally relax in the summer sun.

3. To get to the estancia, we left Ushuaia at 6:00pm, arrived at the international airport in Buenos Aires at midnight, took a taxi to the domestic airport, fought for an hour or so with the taxi driver, snoozed for a bit on various pieces of our luggage, then boarded our flight at 5:30am to Neuquén, which left us about a four hours drive from the estancia.

4. We had rented a car from Avis when the flight was originally scheduled into Bariloche, but in Neuquén, since we were operating at the last second during peak holiday season, our options were limited. It is an important plot point (pay attention!) that Avis in Bariloche had been alerted that we were planning to drive the car into Chile, because, one is required to special paperwork to drive an Argentine car into Chile.

We (which actually means "Jeff" - while I arranged everything else on the trip, he does rental cars) finally connected with "Mara," in Neuquén, who seemingly operated her own rental car agency, like, out of her garage. I'd say, like Bill Gates and the early Microsoft, only maybe on a smaller scale. Communicating via Google Translate, Jeff arranged for her to meet us at the airport with our car. Perhaps, it should be noted, neglecting to mention the Chile angle on the trip.

5. Mara turned out to be a not-so-gently aging ingenue who spoke no English. Without the aid of Google Translate, we were a bit lost. Luckily, Mara had a son who did speak English, so he was rounded up. Whereupon it was discovered we were planning to take the car into Chile. Remember, we've been up for days at this point (the prior morning was spent at the park in Ushuaia, and we're now on the next morning having only slept on our luggage), and just want to get to the estancia, which is supposed to be the awesome, fancy schmancy part of this trip.

6. There is much debate in multiple languages. Is it possible for us to take the car into Chile? No, it is not. Is it possible to rent another car? No, it is not. Can we pay more money to make this happen? Maybe. The debate goes on, and on, and on. And finally, it is decided that if we pay more money and wait four hours, they will give us a much nicer car (yeah!) that we will be able to drive into Chile. At this point, I might well have offered up some random body part just to get on the road, because, after all of this, and after we wait four hours in a local mall, we still have to drive four hours to get to the estancia.

7. Which, we finally did. We drove there. Nice scenery. We stopped here to pee. By the side of the road. Because, that's how we roll.

Somebody peed on their socks at this point. The socks were abandoned in the back of the car and left there. For the rest of the trip. It might actually have been me who did this. And we wonder why no one will travel with us.

But, we finally arrived at our cabin.

Pretty, pretty.

You know what they did we we arrived?

They put me on a horse and sent me out for a ride.

You know what?

It was totally worth it.

 

Auf Wiedersehen, Old Man Winter!

I blinked, and winter was gone. And I seem - can it be? - sad at its passing.

As a person who normally hibernates during cold weather, lives for beach holidays and finds snow disturbing on a cellular level, the fact that I am missing winter on these new fresh days of spring comes as a shock.

"Hello, me? Me who hates winter? Why am I feeling melancholic at its passing??" Perhaps a photo journal of our winter will offer some insight to the confused (of which, I count myself one).

Well, there was the skiing. Which was so brief, it seems. Jeff was traveling for much of January, and February (and March, truth be told), so we didn't get to go as often as we had hoped. A week here, a long weekend there, and, suddenly it was spring. My feelings about skiing swing from active dislike to bearable. But I enjoy being away with my family who all love to ski. So, I'm sad it's over for the year.

Then, there was the ice skating. This year, Fall hung around for a long, long time. But when Winter came, it came with a vengeance, and the Danube froze. This is highly unusual, but for a single weekend when we happened to be nearby (which happens around once a quarter), I took the children ice skating In the Wild.

When I was a wee lass, and the temps dropped below freezing, my brother and I would grab a shovel and our skates and hike back into the woods. We'd spend an hour or so clearing the snow off a local pond, skate for a few minutes and head for home and some hot chocolate. Great memories.

Knowing there was snow on the river, we were a little worried that "skating" might mean "carrying our ice skating bags over the snow on the river." However, we got incredibly lucky, and discovered a spot on the Danube where some family had done just exactly what my brother and I used to do for us. There were skating tracks pre-cleared, and we skated for a good hour. Well, I skated for a good hour. The children skated for a good ten minutes and played in the snow. Hey, it's all good, and their first taste of Skating in the Wild was fairly painless.

Then there is Skating at the Rathaus. The complete opposite of Skating in the Wild. Grab your skates (and helmet!), hop on the tram and head for the skating arena and track. Check out the schematic below for further definition on "skating track."

Fabulously cool, you could skate in a big open area, or take to the track and zoom around the trees. Or hang out in the brown area, dining on Waffles with Caramel sauce, Crepes, fresh fried potato chips, and coffee any style. With or without adult-type beverages added, thank you very much.

The skating was fabulous, and it was all quite safe, as the Austrians did as Austrians are wont to do and made rules. Entrance and exit to the track, clearly marked.

Officers on skates to enforce the rules (and note signage! Arrows to point in the correct direction - all tracks are one way only! Crossing warning sign, and do not enter!). I confess, I love this. No mayhem, just orderly, fun skating.

Notification that as you are entering the track, the grade down is 2%. Not noted, the grade back UP again is also 2%. Not much, but I promise you, if you have never skated uphill before, it is a bit strange.

Ice dancing, Hope style.

And, family fun. We skated here quite a few times, and I even went on my own during the day.

This particular evening, we were here at sunset. Not too late in February, mind you. I think it was around 16:30.

But the Rathaus is just gorgeous in the setting sun.

So, yeah, I am feeling a bit nostalgic for winter.

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And some blogging type housekeeping. We are heading to Sri Lanka for Easter. This trip has been one of those planning disasters that makes me want to take up knitting for a hobby instead of traveling. Oh, wait, I already knit. Maybe I need to get Jeff to take up knitting instead of traveling ...

But, the kinks of pre-planning have all been worked out, and now we just need to deal with the last minute disasters. And it is with this in mind that I have picked up my blog from the discard pile upon which it has perched low these many months.

A new trip is looming, and the last one, Argentina, remains undocumented! However will my children remember their childhoods if I don't document?? Alas, only time will tell...

 

 

 

Magic Carpet Ride

I just love those crazy Austrians.

And where does the Magic Carpet Ride take you? Oh, the places you can go!

If you are perfectly confounded by these photos, and wondering what in the blistering blue barnacles you are peering at, I shall elucidate you. What you have before you is a short, covered conveyer belt that takes you up from slope 8 to slope 5 on Planai in Schladming. The cushy ride even has interior speakers to soothe you musically as you ascend. It was only a little creepy.

Dude is checking his email on his i-Phone while we gently ascend. I think this might be the point of the thing.

Hope sniffed:  "A J-bar would have done just as well." Well said, little girl, although, the covered conveyer belt with piped in music gets an 11 on the Pizazz Scale.

As does the naming of the loo at the mountain peak. Someone enjoyed coming up with that moniker.

And the scenery, in Yea Old Alps remains, as always, rather nice.

Carry on Winter. At the moment, I am not longing for Spring.