I was on a plane circling the Quito airport. I had never set foot in a country less developed than Canada and was terrified of what I’d find waiting for me. Knowing my own limitations for fear tolerance, I was scheduled to meet up with a small group of independent travelers to tour with in a couple of days. I feel guilt even today for my occasional reliance on tour companies to lead me, and keep me relatively safe, because any true traveler would wince at the thought of a scheduled adventure of any kind.
I try to downplay this reliance on a tour since I know many travelers, at the mere mention of tour, the image of a huge gas guzzling bus lumbering down only the smoothest of highways carrying camera laden retirees around to all the sights within a days drive of the 5 star hotel. Upon arrival, they jump out of the bus, take pictures of themselves smiling mechanically in front of anything that may or may not have significance, and finally having exerted themselves, they run back to the bus to sip Evian water and wait for the stragglers that got lost looking for the bathroom.
But I digress. I’m on the plane. It’s late night in Ecuador and I look out the window to take in the sights of the city from my window seat. What I see is spectacularly beautiful. Quito is a narrow city squeezed into a valley high in the Andes. The city lights shimmered with almost a purple luminescence and looked like the sparkle of a million jewels. Our plane finally landed and we made our way off the tarmac and into the customs and baggage claim area. Once the formalities were dealt with I ventured out into the main airport area where I was immediately surrounded by fifteen to twenty cab drivers all vying for my fare. I picked the first one and got in, giving him the name of my hotel I hoped he could find it since he spoke no English and I hadn’t yet gotten my Spanish under control enough to attempt even the simplest of sentences.
We drove out of the airport into what looked like another world. A world I’d only visited in Mad Max and apocalyptic movies. The houses looked to be near collapse, and I felt immediately out of my element. We went through two police checkpoints where two officers with machine guns took my drivers papers and regarded me through the rear window. The country was obviously experiencing the kind of economic hardship that is almost incomprehensible when viewed through western eyes. I learned later that the unemployment rate was 30% (5% higher than what the U.S. experienced at the height of the Great Depression) and the government would be overthrown only a few months later.
My taxi arrived at the hotel without incident and I walked up the steps where I was greeted by the night manager and asked to sign in. I walked up the stairs to the fourth floor where I was staying and walked into a rather large room with a shower! Although the hotel was rundown, the accommodations were certainly better than any hostel I’d ever stayed in, although there was no phone in sight. Unfortunately, in the days to come I was to find that the a working phone with the ability to connect to an English-speaking operator would become my obsession.
After a long day fearful to venture too far out into the city without a guide I went to meet the group that would be accompanying me to the Galapagos Islands for my first trip. It was to be a whirlwind ten days/ten island trip. We would talk a bit about our travel experiences and I’d meet the Australian who’d infect me with a cold that lingered throughout my 4 weeks in South America.
But tonight I was tired and slept like the dead, feeling virtually no effects of the altitude. Perhaps I have mountain people in my genes. I was to find out the boat lovers of my German ancestors certainly didn’t pass on any theirs.
It was to be ten days that will always stay with me. The wildlife is extraordinary from bright red crabs to marine iguanas to penguins swimming alongside you these islands are everything an animal lover could ever want. I actually found myself stepping over sea lions without a second thought (although the bulls still could make me jump with a quick turn of the head) as they sunbathed in our path. We spent our days hiking in the morning cooling off with a snorkel in the reefs off-shore, eating a gourmet meal followed by a nap in a lounge chair until the heat of the day had passed. If it hadn’t been for those nights we traveled over rough waters or anchored outside the harbor the trip would have been as perfect as any could be.
The
May 19, 1999
August 15, 1998
AUSTRALIA. Paradise Lost.
It had been the perfect dessert to a lovely four weeks in Australia. Four days on a small beach resort in the middle of the Coral Sea. Home to the world's largest reef, and the millions of fish that made it one of the Seven Wonders of the World. My main purpose during my visit to South Molle was to relax. I'd been traveling across the outback on every kind of transportation known to man, and for four days all I wanted was for someone to cook me a real meal three times a day, and enjoy the fabulous winter sun.
It was August, and in the depths of the Australian winter I found the East Coast of Australia at its very best. During the summer months temperatures often get well into the 80s and 90s with nearly 100 percent humidity. It's enough to make even the most dedicated of sunbathers wilt in their loungers. This is without even mentioning the Killer Jellyfish as I refer to them. They come with the summer currents and make swimming on many of the Australia beaches dangerous and occasionally deadly without the protection of your mother's pantyhose.
It was my second night on South Molle I found the energy and enthusiasm to venture to the other side of the small island. Largely rainforest, it was home to hundreds of beautiful tropical birds including the Kookaburra, and the Cockatoo. It was around four o'clock and I hoped to get to the beach on the far side in time for sunset. My resort held the only humans on this island so there was very little chance of running into anyone else during my journey. In fact, as I checked into the resort I'd made a mental note of the note to all guests to please alert the staff when journeying out of the resort so that they could search for you if you failed to return.
That was not on my mind as I pulled on a pair of comfortable shoes and made my way to the edge of the resort and began my walk. It was a great evening with the temperatures already cooling. I looked at the dense canopy all around me and listened to all the birds high up in the trees. The amount of vegetation on this tiny little outcropping of reef was truly spectacular and I was surprised that the rainforest is so largely ignored by visitors to the Queensland coast.
The path was fairly wide and looked as if it was occasionally used by the resort's four wheel drives to get to the island's west coast although for what purpose I don't know. Occasionally some other hotel patrons drifted past on their way down to the evening meal and we nodded a hello. I was staying in this resort alone and had become famous for it within my 48 hours on the island.
I trod on, surprised at how long it was taking me to get to the other side. It had been nearly and hour bdidn'the island didn't look like it could be more that a mile and a half wide. Most of the climb was uphill so I attributed much of my difficulty to that, and finally almost without warning I broke out of the dense vegetationoutcrop grassy outcrop overlooking one of the beaches. This first beach looked to me to be largely inaccessible so I followed what seemed to be a well-worn trail on to the next. I made it to the next beach just as the sun was turning pink and I quickly pulled out my camera and began snapping pictures, then sat down to enjoy the view.
As the light faded I walked down a step trail of loose stone to the beach below. The sand was more course here, but the water was beautiful and I waded up to my knees watching the sun slowly sink behind the horizon. Then it dawned on me. The other portion of that soon to be infamous "Message to Our Guests", We also have flashlights available for our Guests when Needed for Night Hikes.
That was what I'd forgotten. In my sudden hurry to see a lovely sunset I had forgotten that the rainforest was completely unequipped with street lamps. After growing up and forever living in a city or suburb, a world without constant illumination was foreign and almost even inconceivable to my brain.
Having come to this rather abrupt conclusion I jogged hastily back up to the beginning of the trail into the forest, but the light was already failing. I made it only about 10 minutes before the canopy had blocked out all the light. The Cockatoos that had seemed so tropically beautiful to me only a few hours before now terrified me to the depths of my soul as I stumbled blind along the trail. They screeched and swooped but couldn't darkness I couldn't gauge how closely they were coming to me, obviously upset that I had interrupted their peaceful night. Making things worse were the unidentified creatures that scurried slithered and scampered out from under my feet as I tried to feel the trail ahead. It was a slow and adrenaline pumped journey, and I had yet to see even a flickering of light in the distance to mark my return to civilization. I sang loudly to ward of the fearsome Cockatoos. I sang badly and waved my arms above my head to make sure that nothing could peck my eyes out. If someone was watching with night goggles I would have been a sight to see. A crazy American drunkenly singing and waving her arms as she crept along a forest trail on a moonless night.
After two excruciating hours I finally saw the lights of the tennis courts, but I had couldn'the trail and couldn't figure out how to get out of the last hundred yards of forest. Due to a steep drop, there was only one place had a set of stairs to climb down. I was now near tears, but then I saw the trail. It was on the other side of a tree I'd passed twice already. I stumbled down the stairs and practically tore out of the forest feeling as if it was reaching out to grab me back. A couple of people regarded me strangely but whether it was because of the terrified look on my face as I ran out of the forest or if it was only the fact I had traveled here alone, I'll never know.
It was August, and in the depths of the Australian winter I found the East Coast of Australia at its very best. During the summer months temperatures often get well into the 80s and 90s with nearly 100 percent humidity. It's enough to make even the most dedicated of sunbathers wilt in their loungers. This is without even mentioning the Killer Jellyfish as I refer to them. They come with the summer currents and make swimming on many of the Australia beaches dangerous and occasionally deadly without the protection of your mother's pantyhose.
It was my second night on South Molle I found the energy and enthusiasm to venture to the other side of the small island. Largely rainforest, it was home to hundreds of beautiful tropical birds including the Kookaburra, and the Cockatoo. It was around four o'clock and I hoped to get to the beach on the far side in time for sunset. My resort held the only humans on this island so there was very little chance of running into anyone else during my journey. In fact, as I checked into the resort I'd made a mental note of the note to all guests to please alert the staff when journeying out of the resort so that they could search for you if you failed to return.
That was not on my mind as I pulled on a pair of comfortable shoes and made my way to the edge of the resort and began my walk. It was a great evening with the temperatures already cooling. I looked at the dense canopy all around me and listened to all the birds high up in the trees. The amount of vegetation on this tiny little outcropping of reef was truly spectacular and I was surprised that the rainforest is so largely ignored by visitors to the Queensland coast.
The path was fairly wide and looked as if it was occasionally used by the resort's four wheel drives to get to the island's west coast although for what purpose I don't know. Occasionally some other hotel patrons drifted past on their way down to the evening meal and we nodded a hello. I was staying in this resort alone and had become famous for it within my 48 hours on the island.
I trod on, surprised at how long it was taking me to get to the other side. It had been nearly and hour bdidn'the island didn't look like it could be more that a mile and a half wide. Most of the climb was uphill so I attributed much of my difficulty to that, and finally almost without warning I broke out of the dense vegetationoutcrop grassy outcrop overlooking one of the beaches. This first beach looked to me to be largely inaccessible so I followed what seemed to be a well-worn trail on to the next. I made it to the next beach just as the sun was turning pink and I quickly pulled out my camera and began snapping pictures, then sat down to enjoy the view.
As the light faded I walked down a step trail of loose stone to the beach below. The sand was more course here, but the water was beautiful and I waded up to my knees watching the sun slowly sink behind the horizon. Then it dawned on me. The other portion of that soon to be infamous "Message to Our Guests", We also have flashlights available for our Guests when Needed for Night Hikes.
That was what I'd forgotten. In my sudden hurry to see a lovely sunset I had forgotten that the rainforest was completely unequipped with street lamps. After growing up and forever living in a city or suburb, a world without constant illumination was foreign and almost even inconceivable to my brain.
Having come to this rather abrupt conclusion I jogged hastily back up to the beginning of the trail into the forest, but the light was already failing. I made it only about 10 minutes before the canopy had blocked out all the light. The Cockatoos that had seemed so tropically beautiful to me only a few hours before now terrified me to the depths of my soul as I stumbled blind along the trail. They screeched and swooped but couldn't darkness I couldn't gauge how closely they were coming to me, obviously upset that I had interrupted their peaceful night. Making things worse were the unidentified creatures that scurried slithered and scampered out from under my feet as I tried to feel the trail ahead. It was a slow and adrenaline pumped journey, and I had yet to see even a flickering of light in the distance to mark my return to civilization. I sang loudly to ward of the fearsome Cockatoos. I sang badly and waved my arms above my head to make sure that nothing could peck my eyes out. If someone was watching with night goggles I would have been a sight to see. A crazy American drunkenly singing and waving her arms as she crept along a forest trail on a moonless night.
After two excruciating hours I finally saw the lights of the tennis courts, but I had couldn'the trail and couldn't figure out how to get out of the last hundred yards of forest. Due to a steep drop, there was only one place had a set of stairs to climb down. I was now near tears, but then I saw the trail. It was on the other side of a tree I'd passed twice already. I stumbled down the stairs and practically tore out of the forest feeling as if it was reaching out to grab me back. A couple of people regarded me strangely but whether it was because of the terrified look on my face as I ran out of the forest or if it was only the fact I had traveled here alone, I'll never know.
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