La Zona Viva

It was well after dark in Guatemala City and I was lost and alone. During my two months traveling alone around Central America I had made a concerted effort to avoid arriving in new-particularly potentially dangerous-places after dark. I had been successful, till now. The bus from the border of El Salvador (actually, the last of a series of buses from the border to Guatemala City) had deposited me at its final stop--a gas station somewhere in the sprawling quasi-metropolis of Guatemala City. My goal was to get back to Antigua, where I would spend the last few days of my trip before flying back to The United States. The problem, besides being alone in the dark in Guatemala City, was that I had no idea where I was in relation to where I needed to be. The map I had was of the country, not the city, and even then it was simply a big Guatemala-shaped blob with a few rivers and several big dots marked with the names of significant cities. My strategy of navigation thus far consisted of a lot of wandering, and a lot of asking. I hoisted my pack, made sure my money belt with my passport and credit cards was hidden, and put my ATM card in my bra. I figured it was the safest place for it, figuring if someone found the card inside my bra, I had much bigger problems at that point. My other navigation tactic when lost in big cities is to head toward the most lights and the tallest buildings. So off I went in that direction.

It turned out "that direction" was not as direct as I had hoped. The street I first ventured down dead ended at a freeway overpass, at which point I turned right and found myself heading away from what appeared to be the epicenter, and toward what appeared to be a dark, scary, sparsely populated area of town. I turned right again and was once again heading toward the tall buildings and lights. That's when I stumbled upon a Little Caesars Pizza place. Now, under normal circumstances (as if those exist!) I would never eat at an American chain restaurant while traveling abroad. But, when one finds oneself lost, alone, and scared in Guatemala City, it is truly amazing how much comfort one gets from an order of Crazy Bread consumed in a booth in a well-lit restaurant.

Gradually my surroundings became more attractive, better lit, more populated, and all around more comforting. I began to pass nice modern residences, then restaurants where people were sitting on outdoor patios enjoying meals and drinks. All of this was immensely gratifying. Then, I turned a corner and found myself, suddenly, in LA ZONA VIVA! Seriously, there was a sign that announced the neighborhood was called La Zona Viva. It was a modern development of bars, restaurants and nightclubs in downtown. To the affluent residents of Guatemala City, La Zona Viva was the place people came to eat, drink, dance and socialize. But to a young, lost, scared, lone American backpacker who had been wandering the dark streets of a foreign city for over an hour, it was, literally, "The Living Area," where my fear finally melted away. I wandered the streets for awhile, basking in the liveliness of it all, toying with the idea of pulling out my credit card, getting a room at the Holiday Inn that was not technically in my budget, getting cleaned up and going out to join the festivities. But the budget of a budget traveler is deeply ingrained, especially when that traveler is going back to no home and no job. I had been traveling all day and was tired and dirty, and the fact was I needed a place to sleep and a way to Antigua the next day.

I had in the pocket of my backpack the back page of a "tourist publication" from El Salvador. The back page was full of ads for hostels and hotels in Guatemala City. I had torn it out in case I needed it at some point. Well, now I needed it. I found a hostel that was an $8 taxi ride away. The hostel itself was $12 and included breakfast. It was in a gorgeous private home. I woke up the proprietress, but she had a bed and made me feel welcome.

The next morning over breakfast the proprietress asked about my plans. When I told her I was trying to get to Antigua she said she was driving up there to distribute some advertising, and could take me for the equivalent of about $3. That would normally be a great deal, but I had four days left till I flew home, and just enough cash left to pay for the cheapest hotel in Antigua, just enough food to survive, the cost of transport and guide to climb the nearby volcano, and the ride to the airport. I explained this to her as best I could in my Spanish, and asked for directions to the bus to Antigua. She said it was far and would be a long walk, but gave me general directions. I thanked her profusely and left. I realized fairly quickly that I would have a difficult time navigating my way across multiple zonas of Guatemala City to where the bus was. Within 20 minutes I was back at the hostel, explaining in my broken Spanish that I would take that ride after all. She must have taken pity on me, because when we got to Antigua, she would not take my money! She said she was going there anyway, and I should save my money. That's when I knew I had made the right choice tracking down a budget hostel in the middle of the night instead of checking in to the Holiday Inn.

Nature with a capital "N"

I needed to get away. AWAY. I was craving solo time in the wilderness. John Muir said we should "Break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean." I managed almost in the blink of an eye to finagle four days off from work, and I did not intend to waste them. I did my version of "research"--a couple hours on the internet narrowing down my choices of back country backpacking trips; preferably within a few hours' drive of an airport with decent rental car rates. Kings Canyon National park it is! A mere two hours from the car rental lot of the Fresno airport to the trail head of the acclaimed Rae Lakes Loop. The Rae Lakes Loop is 46 miles--that would be three 15+ mile days, but in addition to solo time in the wilderness I felt in need of a hard-core physical challenge. This trip seemed to hit the wilderness adventure jackpot. As a bonus, it is in the ridiculously active bear country of the high Sierra Nevada mountains, and since I am insanely afraid of bears, I could throw that into the mix. Stunning alpine scenery? Check. Solitude? Check. Intense physical challenge? Check. Physical manifestation of my most overwhelming and nearly debilitating fear in life in the form of Black Bear? CHECK!

I arrived at the Fresno airport around 10pm. I picked up my rental car and drove toward Kings Canyon until I was too tired to go on, then parked in one of the many pull-outs along the road and slept till morning. I had a few things to accomplish before I hit the trail. One was to call my girlfriend (a.k.a. emergency contact) to let her know I had made it and give her a time frame for my embarkation on the trail. Dead cell phone? Check! I had fully charged it right before I flew out the night before, and having done so, and not planning to use it in the park where there was no reception, I did not bring my charger with me.

So, Two, purchase phone card.

Three, buy fuel for my stove. (Despite the prevalence in the backpacker world of the type of stove I use, I have found the availability and procurement of fuel for said stove to be a recurring hiccup in my travels.) There was no place to buy fuel open for business upon my late night arrival in Fresno, and the stores in Kings Canyon had only propane. My compromise was something called "Camp Heat." It was essentially a little can of fuel with a wick, similar to what caterers use to keep troughs of food warm at parties. Very effective for keeping warm food warm. Not so much for getting food warm. The water for my soup the first night never reached the boiling point. The following night I started heating the water early and settled in with a book for the hour it took to bring the water to a boil for my pasta. By the final morning I knew to rise early, start heating water for coffee, then go back to bed.

My make shift stove

First Night's Camp

Fourth, I had to get a permit and rent a requisite bear canister for the trail. Only 25 people per day are allowed to enter the Rae Lakes Trail from each end. Permits can be reserved months in advance (I may never be one of those people), but 25% of daily permits are held back as first-come-first-served (I may always be one of those people). I arrived at the Road's End permit station (so named because it is, literally, the very end of the road) shortly after it opened. As I waited my turn to check availability and hopefully secure a permit, I perused the trail condition update board. It did not bode well. The first thing to catch my eye was the phrase about deep snow covering the trail in the high country (roughly the middle third of the loop). Winter Conditions. Crampons required. Not recommended. Required. Next I saw the comments about the river/creek/stream crossings. Many. Deep. Wide. Fast. Use extreme caution. I had seen the river along the side of the road on the drive up and the fact is, I had never in all my life seen a river like that. It was high and it was fast and it was wild. Every single inch of it. Next I read the part about the trail being very difficult to navigate in parts due to downed trees. That caveat in particular caught my attention because right before I read the trail conditions I had read a posted list of necessities for wilderness hiking. Among the 70% of items on the list that I had forgotten to pack (first aid kit, lighter and/or matches) was a compass.

I talked to the ranger and found out that, yes, there were still 2 permits available and, yes, the trail was presently in very tricky condition. It was largely a matter of what one was prepared for. I was, as usual, prepared for nothing. In the end I decided to hike the 10 miles to Upper Paradise Valley, where I would set up camp, then attempt a day hike from there the next day. I would camp there two nights then hike back. Not the ideal Rae Lakes Loop on which my heart had been set for almost half a day now, but it still hit all my Wilderness Adventure Requirements.

The River Wild. Misty Falls at the 5 mile mark.

It was exactly what I needed. One foot in front of the other on the trail, pack on my shoulders, trekking poles swinging. The scenery was beautiful on a grandiose scale. The solitude didn't come until after Misty Falls at mile five, which tends to separate the day hikers from the backpackers. I stopped for a lunch break shortly before that, on a cliff overhanging yet another waterfall. Right about then I discovered one trick for shaving pack weight: pack an EMPTY bottle of bug spray. It wasn't too much of a problem at that point, but after dark, and the miles hiked in shade, turned out to be a feast for the mosquitos. Much of the second day's hike was spent swatting wildly at my face and arms, which proved to pose a problem as I had trekking poles attached to my wrists.

I set up camp at Upper Paradise, watched deer eating and playing by my campsite, watched the daylight slowly fade over the river, and built an impromptu campfire while I waited the hour and a half for my soup to cook. I slept extremely well; rare for me in bear country, especially alone.

The next morning, after my hour-in-the-making cup of coffee, I scuttled off into the bushes away from my camp to answer nature's call. I had just finished when I heard a noise behind me. Expecting to see another deer, I turned around to find a black bear sauntering by about 50 yards away. As I stood there, pants around my knees, it glanced in my direction, then continued walking. This was my first encounter with a bear while alone in the wilderness. Every time I drop my pants to go to the bathroom in the woods I think--wouldn't this be an inopportune time to encounter a bear. And now, sure enough, my first encounter...pants around my knees. Bear-assed, if you will. In fact, I was more em-bear-assed than scared, if you catch my drift. But I digress. Thank you for bearing with me. Okay, enough, enough.

I secured my odorous belongings in the bear proof canister and set off for my day hike to the John Muir Trail junction. An hour and a half later, after bushwhacking and following three false trails, I finally landed on the real trail, only to completely lose it due to the aforementioned downed trees. I attempted to navigate around the treefall, but it was too severe and continuous to find the trail again. So I aborted the mission, went back and broke camp, and hiked back to Lower Paradise, where I camped for the night. 2o miles (bushwhacking trail-finding excluded) in three days instead of 46 miles in three days left me a good deal of idle time in camp, which I spent reading, journaling, and simply staring at the river and mountains. And, of course, boiling water.

The next morning I got a relatively early start and was back at the trailhead around noon. I felt rejuvenated! I had found, As John Muir (who's namesake trail I never found!) described, a place "where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul." I had also found, as he said, that "In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks." That John Muir was one smart cookie!

DISCLAIMER

My intention upon creating this blog was to begin with my most recent trip, then go all the way back to my very first trip abroad and work my way forward from there. However, life gets in the way. The distance between intention and completion is a long and windy road in my world. Possibly the main factor in my inability to follow through with said planned course of action is that trips keep happening, taking me farther and farther from "The Beginning," leaving me with that much more catching up to do. "Well, gee, I just keep taking all these fun trips in the present that get in the way of me recording the many fun trips of the past," is both an EXTREMELY OBNOXIOUS and completely unacceptable excuse. There is also the fact that many past trips took place before the onset of digital cameras, also an unacceptable excuse; but, let's face it, stories are more fun with pictures!

NO MORE EXCUSES! If at first you don't succeed, lower your expectations!

So my new plan is: JUST POST.

Expect no order. One post may be a trip I took last week. The next may be a trip I took a decade ago. If you read my first three posts you already know: Plans are useless in my world! Why fight it? So...here goes...