Backpackers's topics - tribe.net

Kate Moss is in Hammam,Istanbul

2008-08-23T19:46:42Z

Hi,
Here are great pics from Istanbul Hamam by Kate Moss.(Turkish Bath)
http://www.wmagazine.com/fashion/2008/09/kate_moss_hammam
Also some other nice photos from Istanbul
http://www.wmagazine.com/fashion/2008/09/istanbul

Bravo http://www.wmagazine.com

Istanbul welcomes YOU.
Nurdogan

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

New Tribe

2008-08-19T19:12:55Z

http://tribes.tribe.net/backpackingwasted
real and imagined inebriated backpacking trips

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Kilimanjaro.

2008-08-14T04:43:12Z

Hey, all!

I just joined the tribe, so hello! *waves*

Wondering if anyone here has climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro and has some stories to share. I'm going in January 2009. Can't wait! Figuring out lots of logistics and details, discovering new products, getting in shape for the altitude... It's going to be awesome!

Cheers,
SW

posted in Backpackers - 3 replies

Shamanic Intensive training Bolivian Andes & Amazon

2008-07-27T18:22:47Z

Shamanic Intensive training Bolivian Andes & Amazon
Sacha Runa Collective offers two Month-long Shamanic Intensive Training Courses a year
(Jan/Feb and August) in the Bolivian Andes& Amazon (www.sacharuna.com).
The course is indeed Intensive and deeply transformational.
It is intended to help train those poeple who trully want to entrust themselves to Spirit
and dedicate themselves to service.
No prerequisite is necessary, except the absolute determination to face oneself
and do what is needed to allow spirit to flow through us and bless creation.
The next one is August1-30.
Have to fly in and out of la Paz, Bolivia.
Application letters are due ASAP.
The next course is Jan/Feb 2009

For serious apprentices who intend to become full fledged shamans and
conduct medicine ceremonies, at least 4 courses are recommended but it
ultimately dependes on everybody's skills.

For a description of the course, please visit www.sacharuna.com
Blessings:
Miguel A. Kavlin

posted in Backpackers - 1 reply

Vaccinations & Malaria

2008-07-14T16:54:48Z

I leave in 7 days from Minneapolis on a bus to Chicago O'Hare to fly to Guatemala City, Guatemala. I'm not getting any vaccinations and I'm not taking malaria pills. My experience asking other travelers to these regions has generally supported my decisions to do as I am. Most of the people I've spoken with that are adamant about needing to get vaccinations seem to have these thoughts which stem mostly out of fear. Also from people I've spoken with the malaria pills potentially won't work and guaranteed will make me sick. What do you think about this? Do you always get vaccinations? One person I spoke with that thought I was crazy said immediately after I told her this "you don't have insurance then" and this is true, but it is only a portion of my decision.

My body is getting prepared to make dietary changes and I have been with a cleansing diet for a month or so now as well as taking probiotics now and with me when I go, as well as whole-food nutritional supplements. I'm a vegetarian that studies nutrition and feel I have a very healthy body. I'm also a beginning essential oils aromatherapist and will be bringing a case of therapeutic grade oils that have been tested for internal use.....

so... thoughts?

posted in Backpackers - 11 replies

Cruise Memoir - funny read (former backpacker through Africa and Asia)

2008-07-10T23:32:58Z

Hi

I am spreading word about my new book about my life working on a cruise ship. Permanent Passenger: My Life on a Cruise Ship chronicles my wacky job search to get my dream job as Assistant Cruise Director and takes you behind the scenes on a cruise ship. Go to www.permanentpassenger.com to see more about the book.

Truly a very funny insightful book that will make you laugh – cry – and throw up just a bit.

Cheers
Micha Berman

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Gila Wilderness Trip (Day Four)

2008-07-02T14:46:23Z

(only a week after this solo backpacking trip, I was hit with sudden - within two days - paralysis below the waists and subsequently spent the month in the hospital, getting out on the summer solstice, barely able to walk with a walker but so glad to be home instead of the hospital. That place was making me nuts. As it turned out, the Gila Trip and a gastro illness afterwards that lasted only a couple days and had cleared up, turned out to be red herrings for the doctors, who after two spinal taps and four MRI's diagnosed me with Acute disimilated encephalitus and then MS since I had a previous attack four years earlier of optic neuritus (blindness in one eye. The below contains reference to psilocybin mushrooms and some may consider it insane - ha ha ha)

An old foot injury acted up (planters fascitus) and I ended up base camping at my fantastic camp site only a mile and a half in for the entire six days, after resting up the second day doing day hikes up the canyon and a side trail. I’ve never stayed this long at a single camp site and it was interesting in a way, really allowing me to get the feel of this place. On the fourth day I felt that my head was in about as good a place as my head can get. I call it the three day phenomenon. After three days in the wilderness I always seem to settle into a really good mental place, especially on a solo trip like this. I had brought with me 4.1 dried grams of Cambodian psilocybin mushroom and woke thinking about the mushrooms. I felt slightly nauseas. It seems like every time I’m going to take mushrooms I wake up feeling slightly nauseas - maybe it’s fear? While I have never really had a “bad trip” with the mushrooms, I always fear them. Not only is the ego death scary, in this case I had not done a large dose for almost a year and I had a deep and abiding feeling that they (I think of the mushrooms now as “The Elders”) were going to hammer me - for my own good, of course.
I had a big cup of coffee while I waited for air temperatures to come up and then when the temperature got up in the fifties, I made a tea of the mushrooms. I had not done this before and steeping them in hot water ended up putting the cup in my cooking pot, making a kind of double boiler since you do not want to boil them, and reheating them several times because the broth looked so thin. When I was done, the ¾ cup of broth that I had left after straining off the solids was still fairly thin looking, slightly yellowish. I held my nose and knocked it back about 10:30. I had been mashing the mushrooms for about an hour trying to squeeze out all the psilocybin that I could and the remaining ground up pieces of soggy mushroom sitting in the bottom of my coffee funnel had a distinct blue hue to them in the morning sunlight. This made me wonder even more about the potency of my broth and I told myself that I would probably end up having to eat that mushroom mush before this was all over. I really wanted to try a mushroom broth just because I had never consumed them that way before but to be honest I was having a hard time getting up my nerve to take another large dose and I knew that this method would not yield the highest dosage - in other words, I was dancing around them kind of chickenshit.
I usually go through a period of chills and so retired into my tent to wait and see what would happen. Usually, they kick in after about forty minutes when eaten and I suspected that with drinking they might kick in a little bit quicker. They did. Just as I was starting to think that perhaps this broth had been as weak as it appeared, somewhat reluctantly contemplating eating the remaining blue mushroom mush, about thirty minutes after drinking it, they began to kick in. I immediately sensed then that the broth “worked” after all - it was coming on pretty strong. I had to overcome a not uncommon impulse to make myself throw up in an effort to stave off the effects - yea, I’m not a brave psychonaut! I lay in the tent then trying to relax and feeling them come on stronger every second.
I began to hear a slight crackling sound. Here we go! I think kind of wildly.
I breath deeply, drawing breathe into the bottom of lungs and bringing it up until they are full and then releasing it from the top of the lungs down until empty. I try to concentrate on my breathe and to keep it even and smooth and to not think; to just not think at all. But of course I do think. The mushroom that I took was from a single mushroom that had been about 45 grams wet, my biggest one. So being an American after all, I had thought that well this must be “the one”. Bigger is better, right? As I lay there, I reminded myself that I knew this mushroom, that is was nothing to fear. I visualized it in my mind, this particular mushroom growing, pulling it gently from its casing, holding it in my hand, noticing again in my minds eye how it was bigger than my hand, how beautiful it is, golden brown colors ….
That seems to assuage my fear a little and while I continue to deep breath, concentrating as best I can upon each breathe, I began to give myself to the effects. I know that at this point I really have no choice. My choice had been made thirty minutes earlier and now I am in the hands of what I had found to be a great and mysterious and frightening power. I was glad that I didn’t feel the need to fight it any more. I feel a little nauseas and crawl feebly out of my tent swaying slightly on hands and knees and feeling vulnerable outside the tent even a few feet, like some small animal might feel vulnerable outside their hole. I found then that I did not really have to throw up after all - it was just the restlessness kicking in, my mind beginning to squirm as though in a somewhat desperate effort to escape the confines of my own skull.
That crackling again, there it is …
Let me out! My mind screams, wanting to tear off across the dry wilderness or scream away into the sky.

…sinking legs struggling deep down into the sandy earth - ah, sitting, just sitting … Sun driven winds blow me away across the dry land all in a whoosh and I am flowing out of self in waves like the ripples from a pebble tossed into a pond. Dancing the one dance now, the immaculate rhythm of it all, possessed of all things and all things possessing me and all in a constant motion. I, the earth, take one great breath and this is day and with one great exhalation bring forth night …

Red cliffs with subtle purple shades smile above against an electric blue sky, smiling between the rich green spring growth along the Gila below, smiling like a brother would smile, a warm, brotherly love kind of smile.
The Great Gaia mother of us all tells me that She was born of this earth, that She is of this earth as we are of our bodies, that She is not the earth itself but the spirit of the earth itself, as we are spirit and not this body itself. And yet of course She is the earth itself and She is us all and we are also our bodies ...
“I am the mother of your body,” she explains to me, “but I am not the mother of you, you who are eternity have no mother, no father".
I fall then forehead onto the sandy earth softly crying and wondering what lessons this place strives so violently to teach me - am so shallow? I should have seen, yes, of course She is not my mother. I wanted our Gaia Spirit to be my mother. It is only a natural feeling, I tell myself reassuring. It is nothing to be ashamed of …
And eternity smashes open everything with a blinding white light …

“Why are you back here,” The voice of the mushroom Elders addresses me sternly, almost annoyed - an unusual, impatient tone for the Elders. I am taken aback by their tone and before I can think of what to say or even to “look up” - I think I am still fallen face first into the earth - the Elders add emphatically, “You KNOW!”
When they say “KNOW” it is as if someone punches me in the stomach. My mind reels with it: Know what? I could not imagine. I look up and am on my knees before a great, bone white pillar backlit by a blinding white light and I somehow feel that the Elders voice has come from this pillar - there is nothing else, after all?
“But I do not know!” I address myself to the enormous white pillar, “that is why I am back?”
And then the Elders sigh a wordless exhalation, as if grown so very weary of me and the likes of me. I understand that it was their way of saying, “go ahead then”.
Suddenly I am weightless, at the place where we all come, the place beyond bone, beyond stone, the place where we have no staff to lean upon and no shield to hold up against the blows of fate - eternity. No womb, no birth, eternity. Eternity imploded and exploded at once and I feel as if I am gasping for air from the unfathomed ecstasy of it all. I draw away at last in wonder … why am I such a child if I am eternity? No, I sense that eternity is beyond the scope of our physical universe, this physical universe and our 3 billion years of evolution are but a blinking of an eternal eye. Again the sheer magnitude of eternity hits me in the chest, even though I thought that I had pulled away, and again it takes my breath from me. I bear down into it, inwardly concentrating my being into a laser like beam - What is this eternity? How? Why? Locking onto this with all my being and bearing down into it all with a sharp, laser beam of pure, unadulterated questioning.
?
As my mind grasps something I glance off - what about love - glancing, glancing off . What about my mother, my father, but no glancing off, glancing away, nothing to grasp onto here, nothing here at all. What of this earth, the great Mother Spirit of this earth? But no, nothing, glancing, glancing off like the bright white light of eternity glancing off of this finely polished stone pillar above me - the glancing, glancing at every point just I am glancing off of everything, almost sparkling and drawn onward and away and deeper and glancing endlessly off of everything and just on and on …
The thought occurs to me that death is not my father. An odd thought to grasp onto to, an odd anchor in eternity? I dismiss this thought like in meditation, watching it come and go, “death is not my father” the kind of thought that is capable of sucking one’s mind off into a dark and fruitless places. I glance off of this thought consciously. I make a choice.
I knew then that I was here on this earth to learn lessons of eternity, lessons helpful to negotiating eternity, and I saw that this unique physical reality of ours, this earth where one sentient creature eats another sentient creature alive, where all who enter, enter through a woman’s womb, born of blood and pain into this often brutal and senseless place, this physicality of ours teaches us lessons for negotiating the infinity of our own being, the endless halls of our higher self - the self beyond this body, beyond even our souls. This world teaches us how to exist for an eternity, how to cope with what could become the hell of eternity by teaching things that are so crucially human on this world like creativity, music, art - the power of imagination. Imagination like magic opens eternity up, billowing the sails of infinity with an endless source of creativity. Then I began to see how a God might create a universe and even RNA/DNA and then maybe God watches this for billions of years as we here on this earth might watch television for the evening just for something to do.
What about love, I think ...
Then a very sweet but confident female voice says softly, “David,” tapping her finger on a table at the same time, very gently, so that I must listen carefully, “David,” she urges gently, patiently, “Come back here, be here”.
Love is not a lesson here, she seems to say, you are love, always have been love, you only
have to recall what you are ...
Yes I see clearly what she is saying and open my eyes and thinking, “is that the voice of eternity now?” Laughing at myself. But It was not the voice of the Gaia mother? I become aware of myself physically again. Even though my hair had been tied back, I have to gather it up and tie it back again, all a mess. I look around for a second recalling where I am.
Oh, yes.
“Where are you going?” the voice of eternity asks again, just as patiently, tapping her finger ever so gently upon that table. “Come back here, where is there to go?”, she insists, laughing playfully so that I laugh along with Her - yes, where is there to go?
Good one, eternity.
I find a couple sticks nearby the tent after discovering that I can move. I go into the sunny field under the long line of western cliffs maybe three hundred feet above. The sun feels wonderful, instantly taking the temperature up from about sixty in the shade to eighty. I clap my sticks together and cry out a song about the cliffs, about the river. It was a good thing at this point to be so far out in the wilderness. I feel that I am communicating with the ravens and turkey vultures circling high overhead. I feel the message of eternity flowing through me, “be here, be now,” the most important lesson perhaps that this world (which is nothing else if not distracting!) has to teach an eternal being.
Inexplicably, I think of shaman then and cry out happily, giddily, “O you shaman, you!” I guess I know that the shaman must also come to this place of white stone, white bone, to this place of blinding white light where nothing is hidden, where there is not the slightest shadow of self in which to hide ….

I feel through this energy how profoundly much I do NOT inhabit my own body. I feel how all of my life I have rejected the fullest expression of my being. I did not really possess my self. I pictured myself then standing alone in long, white robes, a drooping white hood keeping my face in shadow. I was not living, I was observing. I was not the character, I was the writer. To have observed so very much and yet know so very little, I wondered a little shrilly. It was kind of terrifying. I feel as though I could slip into insanity here like breaking through rotten flooring into a basement.
I am beginning to come down.
I feel myself coming down through layers, the sensation of down, of returning back to this earth, returning slowly layer by layer of reality to my actual body collapsed now in the shade overlooking this bright field. The Gila turns a bend to my left under the cliffs and a ribbon of new green spring leaf follows it in the form of various blooming plants drawn intimately close to the precious water of the Gila. I see it frothing white in places. I hear the cascading of water.
What could I have done to have sentenced myself to death? I wondered helplessly.
Why would I want to punish myself by blowing my own head off! There it was, right there. Somehow I did not feel that I have a right to live.
Who am I to live?
As I continue down, back down, wrestling with these personal questions, grappling with the reality of my own dispossession. Was I always like this? It seems not. I recalled being a careless child. Something in adolescence then - but what? Hormones? I do not recall any trauma. Sure I had the bad childhood but who doesn’t? But I felt how I could never give myself to anything my whole life long and I felt how this was because I never did possess myself to give. I was just watching this self. No wonder I felt no joy! You have to possess your own being to feel joy! As I continued down through the layers over a number of hours, I began to think of myself in the 3rd person - “we’re coming down now” as if to emphasize the disassociation.
Have I rejected my incarnation?

I watch other people in wonder, “how do they have so much fun? Watching sports, dancing, whatever?” I think back to third grade watching newsreels of Hitler rallies in Nazi Germany at how appalled I was - not by the fascism, I was too young to really understand that, but by that vision of crowds numbering in the thousands all performing together, as if all were just one super organism - I rejected it viscerally. It made me want to flee the classroom. All those thousands in perfect unity like that! It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Why? I was so young with so little experience - it was like an instinct. It was daunting to discover how perpetual my condition was. I never was a joiner. I never felt the jingoism of country going to war, never felt really the team spirit of being part of a team, even though I played sports. I cannot begin to imagine actually feeling some connection to a commercial or collegiate sports team? I began to wonder if I had ever truly inhabited my own body? No wonder then that my experiences with these mushrooms were so compelling - this was the only time that I felt connected.
Otherwise, I was not connected, fundamentally not connected and so for hours I wrestled with this as the Spring winds added their constant sighing to the cascading of the river. What would it feel like to be connected? Perhaps if I try hard enough I can imagine connection ...
I grow morose.
I know this is what I came here for but am already sick of my self and weary to go back to thinking of nothing. Back to that place in my self where eternity is only a word. That is the place where I feel comfortable, the place that I am used to.
The only answer was to be here and be now. That feels a little to much like a bumper sticker to me: “Be Here, Be Now” and as soon as eternity stops tapping Her finger and calling me back, I drift more and more out of the moment as I come down. I feel hollow and depressed. The come down is jagged and hard and painful, as if cramming myself back into a broken jar or squeezing through a window full of ragged, broken glass. I feel that fully inhabiting my own being is hopeless - actually, what I think is : “We will never inhabit our own being!” And even though it is a beautiful Spring afternoon, I sit gloomily in the shade feeling quite helpless and hopeless. I feel sorry for myself, for being so close to eternity and yet so far away.
I was just there and it was so real, I insist to myself but almost not believing it already.
How could I be eternity - hell, I am not even really here?
By the evening I was back to normal, for better or worse. The Mushroom Path, whether out in the wilderness or on a city street, never ends, the path just goes on for eternity.

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Tailors in Bangkok?

2008-06-29T15:01:01Z

Hey all,

Can anyone recommend a good tailor in Bangkok? While I'm here, I'd like to have some tailored clothes made. I know there are tons of tailors, but I get the sense that a lot of them are pretty low quality. So I want to find a good one.

cheers from Koh Pha Ngan,
Jon

posted in Backpackers - 5 replies

Tailor in bangkok

2008-06-29T14:57:19Z

Hello folks
I have a friend that lives in Bangkok and he uses Savile Row Tailors on Suriwong road. He and his colleagues use this tailors for all their business suits etc
I am traveling to Bangkok in December and will be using this tailor when I arrive; I have used them so I can guarantee their quality of work. As for price
I could say reasonable
Hope this helps
Joseph

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

hostel in oaxaca city?

2008-06-22T19:57:24Z

any recomendations?

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

New Travel Pictures Country next to Country

2008-05-23T04:25:36Z

Kenya - Belgium New November 2007 Travel Pictures side by side

Hi,

This Kenya-Belgium website displays several pages each one containing two comparative (similar, contrastive, ...) photos. Let your thoughts flow freely and enjoy:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/the_mighty_us_and_mighty_dollars.html
Click the "-->"-button on the page opened for the following new pictures.

Best regards, BoBi

Annex: overview of the new photos:

the Kenyan Matatu Mighty US and a Keytrade advertising panel with Mighty Dollars:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/the_mighty_us_and_mighty_dollars.html
the Kenya Commercial Bank and the Keytrade Bank:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/a_kenyan_bank_on_the_internet_and_a_bank_on_the_belgian_internet.html
a Kenyan Forest and a Belgian Woodland:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/a_kenyan_forest_and_a_belgian_woodland.html
a Kenyan Bird and a Belgian Gull:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/a_kenyan_bird_and_a_gull_in_belgium.html
a Crowd of Kenyan matatus and a Crowd of Belgian cars:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/a_crowd_of_kenyan_matatus_and_a_crowd_of_belgian_cars.html
the Kenyan Harbour of Mombasa and the Belgian Harbour of Zeebrugge:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/the_kenyan_harbour_of_mombasa_and_the_belgian_harbour_of_zeebrugge.html
a Kenyan boat and a Belgian Patrol boat:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/a_kenyan_boat_and_a_belgian_patrol_boat.html
the Kenyan National Vegetable Sukuma wiki and the Belgian National Vegetable Chicory:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/the_kenyan_national_vegetable_sukuma_wiki_and_the_belgian_national_vegetable_chicory.html

posted in Backpackers - 5 replies

Cruise Book Published - Former Carnival Crewmember and Backpacker

2008-05-17T06:28:33Z

Hi

I am a local author in San Francisco spreading word about my new book about my life working on a cruise ship. Permanent Passenger: My Life on a Cruise Ship chronicles my wacky job search to get my dream job as Assistant Cruise Director and takes you behind the scenes on a cruise ship.

Witnessing rescues at sea, stowaways, fatalities, and passionate romances are just some of the day to day events revealed in this intriguing and humorous account.

Go to www.permanentpassenger.com to see more about the book.

Truly a very funny insightful book that will make you laugh – cry – and throw up just a bit.

Cheers
Micha Berman

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Istanbul Photo Contest

2008-05-16T19:16:13Z

Istanbul Photo Contest

Check out !
www.istanbulphotocontest.com
Also
www.istanbulphotocontest.com/blog.php
ID

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Gila Wilderness Trip April 2008

2008-05-16T18:27:15Z

Six hour drive and 270 miles from Ruidoso to the Gila visitor center at the end of Rt15. I went in via Rt152 that goes over the Black Range from east to west in my case and returned via Silver City and Rt10 and Las Cruces. I crossed the continental divide at 7,000 just east of Lake Roberts. There are numerous lodgings as well as campgrounds at Lake Roberts. I stopped and ate lunch at a beautiful restaurant there that also has lodging. From Lake Roberts it’s another forty five minutes to the Cliff dwellings and visitor center. I came up the Mimbres valley but most come in from Silver City - coming in from Silver City it is a two hour drive due to the convolutions of the road. When one looks at the map, it does not look that far and it is hard to believe that this drive would take two hours but it truly does, and such should be the first hint of just how vast this wilderness area really is. A flood in February blocked access to the west fork of the Gila river due to work on the bridge to the trailhead which is at the Gila Cliff Dwelling parking area so I went up the middle fork of the Gila, the trailhead just behind the visitor center which has toilets with a sink, water and various trinkets as well as maps but no food.
No permits are required
I was used to the east coast my whole life and had only backpacked out west a handful of times, mostly in Colorado and Northern California. From the 8,000 foot perch, I could see nothing but wilderness in every direction literally from horizon to horizon and my mind really could not quite comprehend the vastness of this wilderness. Just the drive in is outstanding and before dropping down off of a 8,000 foot ridge into the Gila facilities and a tiny outpost of civilization with a hot springs and lodging, you get a panoramic view that is awe inspiring. At 8,000 feet there was a mature ponderosa pine forest. I’m accustomed to 10,000 acre wilderness not 1,000,000 acre wilderness. I really had a hard time wrapping my mind around it.
I would never see much of this place, I thought in awe.
.
This paved Rt15 allows the deepest ingress into this 3 million acre forest and 1 million acre Gila wilderness.
I got a topo map at the visitor center and left the trailhead about 2:30pm. Just the trailhead itself affords outstanding views of the middle fork and surrounding cliffs. There is a natural hot springs about a mile in. It trickles into the middle fork from about a 3 inch spring that comes out right at the trail - in fact you have to step over it. It is after the second crossing and just before a sign designating entrance into the wilderness area. There are some good camp sites on the left along the river just past the spring. I actually missed the spring going in because I was banging around on the other side of the river looking for a camp site and then I crossed back over just above the spring. I continued up past here where these camp sites were taken looking for a nice place to camp - an ambitious backpacker I am not! There were quit a few cars at the trailhead and most all of these were people visiting this hot spring. I found a place to camp and set up my tent then I thought that since my boots were already soaked that I’d continue up the trail across the next creek crossing and make sure there wasn’t a better camp site nearby. It was only three thirty, after all. Sure enough, just across the next creek crossing there was a fantastic campsite under enormous trees. This would be at the fifth crossing of the Gila from the trailhead. So I went back and moved everything up to this site, including my already set up tent. The winds threatened to lift me off the ground holding the light but cumbersome tent above my head as I crossed the Gila, thigh deep here. This camp site was beautiful with the middle fork right there and precious shade as well as an open meadow next to it and views of cliffs that ran in a long line along the west and the east.
Anyone coming here should be prepared to cross the river about every five to fifteen minutes of walking. Most of the crossing were about knee high up to almost waist high and the water was down at this point. If this area did actually get winter snows and the water were up it would be virtually impassable - something to think about if someone were planning a trip here in the spring. This is true of all the trails in this area that follow the branches of the Gila. The leaves were just starting to bud and temperatures went down to about 32 degrees at night and up into the 80’s in the day. The bright New Mexico sun on the still cool earth of Spring generated winds starting like clockwork about 8:30 am and ending around dusk - the “spring winds”.
I had never been in an environment like this and found it refreshingly novel. Looking up at the cliffs hundreds of feet above the river, the silhouettes of pinion trees against the bright, electric blue New Mexico sky struck me as so … western. Like a TV Cowboy western movie clip playing in my mind. After the first day I only saw eight backpackers all week and one day I saw six people on horseback doing an all day out and back, passing my camp late in the day heading back, a couple people looking like they could barely still stay in their saddles. A guided horseback trip, especially a multiple day camping trip, would be a great way to see more of this vast territory, I thought.
I think the ideal time to backpack here in the Spring would be about the middle of May. There is almost constant sun under the electric blue New Mexico sky and the environment is similar to the high desert. As an easterner, I marveled at a few cactus I passed. Waiting for the deciduous trees to leaf out would provide some welcome shade. Following along the river was like following a thin, sinuous oasis through the high desert. At the elevation here, about 6,000 ft, when you leave the river you immediately enter a dry, almost scrub environment. As far as I went in, nice camp sites were fairly few and far between but when the birch and other deciduous trees leaf out, the number of nice, shaded camp sites would increase. Even this early in the year the full force of the afternoon sun is daunting. A hat and sun screen is a must, I would think. At this time of year you live under the bright, friendly auspices of the sun as it shines from an electric blue sky almost all the time. Whenever I hiked I just kept dipping my bandana into the river at the numerous crossings and putting it back under my hat. In the afternoon sun the bandana would dry out in fifteen or twenty minutes.
I watched the middle for of the Gila drop for six days about five inches. I would have to shuffle a few inches closer in my booties in the cold morning to fetch some water for coffee.
After five nights on the sixth day walking back out early in the morning with the temperature in the high thirties, the hot spring was hard to miss. Steam rising from the spring itself into the cold air and from the small, shallow pool that the spring empties into. There are beautiful views from the spring and on this morning elk were grassing along the river there. This spring is a great spot for the slightly adventurous being only a thirty minute walk or so from the trailhead. I saw people without packs walking in wearing sandals, towels thrown over their shoulders. At one point earlier in the week I had passed a couple backpacking wearing only sandals. While I have to admit that my boots became extremely heavy every day after only a couple river crossings, I think this is a spectacularly bad idea. If one were just day hiking without a heavy pack, sandals would be cool - personally, in such conditions, I would prefer an old pair of running shoes - at least that much support. I’ve dealt with broken bones in the wilderness, fortunately not my own. I had a difficult time at several crossings due to the rocky bottoms that are plenty deep enough to be invisible even in the relatively clear water of the Gila. A broken ankle or leg or arm or shoulder out in the wilderness is not only a bummer, it‘s a huge hassle being that far away from medical attention. And the crossings are so numerous that it is impractical to take off boots and don tennis shoes at each creek crossing, unless one has a real thing about getting their boots soaking wet as well as a great deal of patience.

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Gila wilderness

2008-05-03T23:44:43Z

heading over the middle fork of the Gila at the cliff dwellings tomorrow for a solo backpacking trip. I broke an old rule and started my trip book before getting in - For Whom the Bell Tolls. At one time I read everything Hemingway ever wrote and I don't know how I could have forgotten what a romantic he is? But this is the first time that I've done a trip in over a year and the first trip since moving to New Mexico. I'm still out of shape but if I have to limp in it won't be the first time. I especially look forward to seeing the Gila river as well as the cliff dwellings themselves. It is such a gift these mountains, this wilderness - Gila the oldest wilderness in the nation. Every once and a great while we humans do something worthwhile!
I'm hoping to commune with the spirits of the cliff dwellings and I pray for strength in more ways than one and I'll post back here how it goes.

posted in Backpackers - 3 replies

Long term traveling - how do you pay for it all?

2008-03-20T21:06:58Z

I'm interested in hitting the road for some long term travel. By long term I mean open ended, I don't know how long but 6 months to a year, maybe more.

I've heard of people traveling for such long periods but how do you keep money coming in? I don't have enough savings to pay for a thing like this so how can I earn money along the way or otherwise keep it going?

Also if there are any home owners who've done this, how do you manage your house while you're away. Do you hire a firm to rent it and manage it for you?

posted in Backpackers - 8 replies

favorite/necessary backpack features?

2008-03-19T17:10:19Z

Hi I'm about to go on a year-long backpack/hitchhike/couch-surf trip in New Zealand, and am willing to drop some cash on a big new pack for it. What are everyone's favorite features of their backpacks, or the features they long for, or the features you think are about as useless as cephalopods on rollerskates? For instance, I am torn between a pack a friend had which was effectively a giant dry-bag with shoulder straps, and lots and lots of easy-access pockets.

Also, if you think you have a perfect pack, or near perfect, what is the make/model? I'd like to check it out.
(I'm 5'6, med-athletic build, female, and have lots and lots of stuff)

posted in Backpackers - 18 replies

Winter Trip Report New Hampshire

2008-02-17T23:39:36Z

My buddy Roger and I headed up from Washington DC to the Pemigewasset wilderness in the White Mountain National Forest of New Hampshire. We Parked off of the Kancamagus Hwy at the Pemigewasset river. It was the middle of January with about five to six feet of snow cover. We had snow shoes and skis. I was pulling a sled with a hip belt attachment because I had recently broken my right clavicle - shoulder - and could not carry a pack. Roger carried a big old winter pack. The advantage was that I could carry a shit load of stuff but the disadvantage was that Roger had to traipse behind me and re-right it when it toppled over - the sled did fine except for on transverse slopes and there were plenty of those where we went, up the east branch of the Pemigewasset river. It was 5F degrees and snowing lightly as we made our way up the trail easily since it had been packed for us by countless others - at least for the first few miles. About three miles in we were crossing a frozen side branch. I went first on my skis and made it fine but when Roger crossed with his snow shoes and pack weight overtop him instead of behind him as with my sled, he broke through with his right leg up to his crotch. He had a difficult time getting out with his snow shoe below the ice resting upon the rocky bottom of the creek. He crawled the rest of the way, not easy on ice with a heavy pack, snowshoes and poles.
Once he made it across he took off his pack and then removed his soaked socks to replace them, dumping icy water onto the snow laughing. He set the socks from his right foot on a stone next to him and then by the time he could dig out fresh socks and get them on, the wet sock had frozen solid. Roger picked it up and waved it, frozen solid. That impressed us both. He said his foot was freezing even in his fresh socks and I said fuck this we’re camping. I told him to put on another pair of dry socks and change into dry pants while I went up ahead and found a suitable campsite. I would have to pack one down most likely anyway we’d have to wait 30 minutes or so for it to harden before putting the tent on it. We seldom made fires in the wilderness but I knew a fire was in our near future on this late afternoon. I didn’t want to go further into this wilderness on deep snow except with all of our strength - I already had a broken shoulder to hold us back.
I found a spot only a few hundred feet up the Wilderness trail but in order to get to it I had to go up a very steep if small embankment and I had to take off my skis and post hole up the embankment, hauling my sled up behind me by holding onto its hip strap with my right hand. About half way up the embankment I heard and felt something pop. It was my right hand. The pain was so bad that I let go of the sled and it slipped back down the embankment and across the trail. I took off my glove and there was a big lump on the top of the back of my hand. I had been trying to keep the weight from pulling on my shoulder and evidently did a pretty good job of this, transferring the weight to my arm and hand instead. I learned later that a tendon had popped out of the sheath holding it, a kind of hernia in my hand. Upon the advice of a physical therapist, I put two quarters over the lump and then slammed my hand with a large book - took a couple of very painful efforts but the third slam was a charm and popped the tendon back in where it belonged and I had to no further problems from it - but that was well after we got home over a week later. For the rest of our trip I avoided using my right hand whenever possible, along with my right shoulder.
Roger came up as I was descending to fetch my sled.
“You haven’t made much progress there, Dave” he commented.
I told him what happened and we both pulled the sled up this time, Roger still in his pack and snowshoes. It was a typical camp along the small river under large pine. After we packed down a tent site, we kicked in steps down to the water and packed them also, packing down a path from the tent site to the water and another in the other direction to a suitable bathroom site. This way once we settled in we could move around without putting snowshoes on. Next we set about gathering wood while the tent base hardened. Even though I had a good bit of experience on snow, this was the first time that I collected wood on snowshoes, which presented it’s own challenges.
I had my traditional hot chocolate with half a stick of butter melted in just before retiring and it kept me warm all night. Ah, rich, creamery butter, the winter campers friend!
It continued to snow lightly but steadily all along. Normally in the winter I’ll hunker down inside the tent but since we had a fire we both hung out at the fire pit enjoying the fire and the continuing snowfall. It was still about 5 degrees above zero. Roger had more experience with fires and handled the fire and the drying of his clothes and much to his credit, he didn’t burn anything. That night it went down to about 20 below zero and it snowed about six to eight inches. Roger insisted on sleeping outside the tent on the ground next to the fire. In the morning when I peeked out of the tent there was just a big, white lump where Roger was laying - the lump was almost imperceptibly moving with his breath and I was glad to see that he didn’t suffocate under his tarp. He reminded me of the sled dogs that I had seen on television burying themselves into the snow for the night. Since he was outside it was easy to set my stove in the vestibule and start water for coffee. A short while later, the sled dog arose from under his blanket of snow no worse for the wear except some condensation on the top of his bag. Roger is hard core.
“Warm night”, he commented, shaking some snow out of his hair.
This day the easy railroad grade trail shifted higher up away from the river and onto a narrow hiking trail rising up and down with lay of the land and incoming creeks. Would have been a piece of cake were it not for the sled. Neither of us had been up this trail before but it looked okay on the topo map. The devil really is in the details! I tried as best I could but transverse slopes are the sleds greatest weakness and especially since we were breaking trail and the sled had no track to follow in, it would slide down slope, sometimes the two bars attaching the sled to my hip belt twisting in the process and then the whole thing getting caught in the trunks of the small trees that lined the trail. This meant that I had to break trail all day and Roger had to constantly shove and lift this hundred pound sled and beside becoming exhausted, he hurt his back at one point and we had to take a long break.
“Your sled is killing me,” he said, laughing.
His back was hurting pretty good but he could still carry his pack. Like I said, Roger is hardcore. The normal concerns with pain and comfort that the rest of us tend to focus on mean nothing to Roger. As soon as we made it through the rough stuff and back down along the river, we found a camp and called it a day - maybe managed three miles. I didn’t say anything to Roger but pretty much cancelled our circuit and figured we would hike straight through to RT302 and then hitch back to the car. There was a fairly easy route straight through that should afford the easiest exit in terms of following mostly old railroad grades along the valleys. Finishing our circuit would definitely put us back into sled pulling hell and I knew Roger would never say nay, I figured that was pushing it just too far. If his back went out completely that would leave me with my broken shoulder and broken hand to haul him out on the sled. After spending six hours to go three miles, I had no illusions about this - it just wasn’t going to happen. Roger pretty much left route finding to me. He’s really into The Now and staring at a map is just not his thing, I think.
The next day the going was easier and the temperature rose almost to freezing, the high of our trip so far. I don’t think it had gotten above 10 degrees above zero since we arrived. We ended up in only T shirts. We entered an inner valley area where the land flattened out into a broad almost level area. I had the sense then of really being “in the wilderness” especially since this was the deepest in that we could go, no roads for many, many miles. On the east coast this was as wilderness as you could get. We were actually technically on the border of the official wilderness but the surrounding White Mountain national forest afforded plenty of wilderness even without the official designation. The bad thing was that there were no signs and no topography to navigate by so we had a hard time finding our way through a maze of trails and old roads crisscrossing the valley. We were looking for a shelter that was on the map just across the border of the wilderness area where shelters are allowed. We finally muddled our way through and when we broke out into an open meadow with the shelter sitting on the other side, under a bright sun, we cheered. That shelter was like the Hilton to us and there was no one in it as might be found during the summer months around here. In fact, we never saw anyone else on the whole trip except the first two miles in from the parking area. It was only about one in the afternoon and we didn’t need a fire to dry anything, just stretching everything out under the sun, including our sleeping bags. My God the luxury one feels when finding a shelter like this in the wilderness. Even in the shade of the shelter where I set up with stove and sleeping pad, spreading out across “our” shelter luxuriously, I was plenty warm with only a light jacket. It felt like summer to us. Someone had left the largest can of Dinty-Moore beef stew that I had ever seen on a shelf in the shelter. It must have been half a gallons worth which we polished off, sorry I know that to anyone not out in the wilderness a half gallon of Dinty Moore Beef Stew sounds nauseating even to think about.
We felt like we had found and Eden in the Pemigewasset wilderness of New Hampshire.
That night I had a nightmare involving my wife needing help back in Virginia and I woke up really spooked by it. That feeling that something was wrong and that she needed me was strong. All that guilt from years of leaving her alone while I go adventuring. I knew she was a strong and totally independent woman but still … that damn nightmare. It followed me the rest of the trip really until I hit a phone and called my wife days later. I told myself it was foolish to overreact to a nightmare. On one of the coldest days on record, my wife had broken down in Roger’s truck and had to wait hours for help, nothing too serious but probably made her so pissed at me for pawning off Roger’s truck on her - I had wanted 4 wheel drive for where we were going up in New England - that her pissed off vibes were enough to give me a nightmare. Her psychic pay back was my spending those days with that little uncertainty. She laughed about it when I told her. She was from south Texas and literally had never experienced this kind of cold before and spoke about the cold more with extreme dislike than anything else. When I told her that it had hit 25 below zero where we were, she gasped in horror.
There were no chocolates or turned down pillows but the little, three sided shelter was the Hilton that night. Plus we got to both dry the tent out and then in the morning to skip the ordeal of taking the tent down. In the morning it was warm and I began to worry if it might not get a little too warm. Nothing worse than six feet of wet, melting snow. Sure enough the warm front stuck for a few days and under a close winter’s sun the snow softened up, especially later in the day. Since we were in the shelter it was easy to break camp early and we did hoping to get off the snow by mid day. About a mile up the trail we came across tracks on the trail that looked like two people had post holed right down the trail. We followed these tracks all day and I kept commenting on them, thinking how tired I was even on skis.
“Roger, these poor people post holed for miles in this snow,” I would say to him with amazement.
Finally we saw the Moose who had made them and boy did I feel stupid. But even for a Moose that has to be a lot of work. Roger had a good laugh at that one.
The worst was crossing a wide wetland where my skis and Roger’s snowshoes kept punching through into water. When I took my skis out of the water and pushed into the snow, snow packed up under it in huge amounts that made it impossible to move. I had to take off my skis and clean them about a million times and we sloshed our way to another three sided shelter. I just screamed out loud at one point after sinking into the water for the one millionth time. The good thing for me was how perfect this trail was for my sled. It also had to be cleaned after sinking in the water but it did not sink as much as did my skis - lot more weight on them. Roger broke trail all day since he didn’t have to constantly right the sled and I couldn’t complain about that. The shelter was on a large pond and again we had it to ourselves. Temperatures were in the 20s when we finally settled into the shelter and we hoped the next day, our last, would bring us a little firmer snow. No Dinty Moore. Even after crushing the humongous can as best we could, it still seemed to take up half my sled. We had to settle on mountain house this night. Roger still was having a lot of pain with his back but it sure didn’t slow him down much. I had spent most of the day following his tracks. I told him to save himself, I was going to need help with the descent down to RT 302. It was only the last mile after an easy grade from here to the descent.
Roger groaned. He didn’t seem encouraged.
The temperature dipped only in the low teens and when we left the shelter it was around freezing and uncomfortably windy. Sure enough we found it easy on a railroad grade again until the descent. It was rough. One of the poles connecting the sled to my hip belt snapped and I ended up lowering the pack in front of my using the one remaining pole. Roger had a hard enough time with his pack and snowshoes on the narrow, path down through virgin snow. Fortunately it was extremely steep all the way down to the road and all I had to do guide the sled as I slipped down the mountain. We really had a hard time with it and were glad it was only a mile. Between his back and my broken sled, we limped into the parking area along RT302. I had a plan for hitching but Roger was reluctant to play along. I finally convinced him to simply lay down next to his pack and make himself comfortable and read while I hitched. I wanted him to stay here with the packs. He resisted the idea of playing disabled but I knew how hard it was going to be to get a ride. I was counting on some sympathy. Of course, it turned out to be a state trouper who was the first sympathetic soul.
“No I’m not hurt,” Roger insisted. I told the officer how brave Roger was but that he really had hurt his back pretty badly and we were trying to hitch a ride back to the trailhead, having limped down to this road in duress. Hey, I’m not proud. Maybe the trooper would help - I already knew that hitch hiking wasn’t illegal. The officer said good luck and a couple people stopped also inquiring whether or not Roger was okay. Roger found this to be very annoying but I saw it as success - my plan was working perfectly. But finally we got a ride and the guy said that he would take me back to the Kancamagus trailhead to my car. He was out for the day downhill skiing and did some backpacking himself in the summer. Just the kind of guy I was looking for! We chatted on the ride over which was pretty long and I found out that he had worked for over 20 years for the same corporation and intended to stay there until retirement. I was amazed that someone could be happy but he was. He liked his work, it paid well and offered a lot a vacation time as well as good benefits. Although I was inspired, I was not that guy. I thought of that guy for years afterwards. I held him up as an example for myself but It was not my destiny to be happy with the corporate life.
Not too long after I got in I pulled down the zipper on my gore Tec jacket and he started waving his hand and simultaneously rolling down the winders - “please, zip that back up!” he begged. I immediately zipped it up tight to my neck.
Besides being chagrined for both stinking so much and not being aware of it, I didn’t want to get thrown out!
After I picked up Roger we only got in one fight all the way back to Virginia. Roger wanted to go into a sit down restaurant but I wanted to go thru a drive thru and keep getting up - I knew how bad we smelled, he didn’t! Fuck ‘em, he said. But he didn’t understand how bad it was - we might well get thrown out!

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Wanderlust

2008-02-14T17:02:28Z

I'm from San Antonio, TX. Not as dusty and alone as the outer fringes of the state, but I'd still like to get out. I'll be backpacking West, toward Yosemite State park. I'll probably be stopping off in death valley park first. I want to see the Methuselah trees; they're supposed to be thousands of years old, just what I heard. Either way, I'm the type who's far better suited for desert climates. Hot, dry, thirsty, wander, jump, yawn, yell, it's all good. After Cali I'm going to head north to Grants Pass, OR. From there I don't know. I may need a place to stay in NV around Burning Man, if any body's interested, but that's not going to be for a while.
I dunno what else to say. I'm not an axe-murderer or a rapist. I do drink and smoke, but I'm otherwise pretty nice (or so I've been told by people that like me). What do i do? I dunno, I consider myself a writer regardless of the fact that I've never been paid for it. I have a warm, poetic handle of prose that I put to paper when the feeling strikes. Things have just grown stale down here. Maybe I'll find some inspiration out there in Americaland. I have this outdated and fairly naive concept of the American hitchhiker, probably from reading too much Kerouac. I accept the possibility of my death in the same manner that I accept the possibility of later eating sunflower seeds, or perhaps the possibility that I'll step on an ant. I'm no fool though. I can handle myself well enough to know better...
But I digress, I suppose. If anyone out there is interested in traveling around, let me know, we'll talk.
TTFN

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Our second anniversary

2008-02-01T00:21:18Z

My wife and I and our 100lb puppy Bernese Mountain dog drove up 12 hours from Virginia to a trailhead in the middle of The High Peaks of the Adirondacks. In the parking lot there were clumps of people standing around everywhere and way too much activity. When I checked in at the Ranger Headquarters, they tell me that three climbers have been lost on the side of Mt Marcy for over three days. The snow is still deep up there, he explains. When we had saddled up and were heading out across the parking area to the trailhead up Indian Creek, a TV camera crew runs up to us and breathlessly asks if we had seen any sign of the lost climbers. We keeep walking and I said over my shoulder, “we’re just heading out and we’ll keep an eye out for ‘em”. We laughed. The deep snows up high were steady melting thru May and the creeks were high and fast. It was raining fine but steady as we hiked and the trail was a muddy pool most of the way. We had to step carefully from rock to stump or sink in up to our knees in the deep, raw mud of the trail. We were in a northern forest just exploding with the first intimations of Spring. There was a three sided Adirondack style shelter not far up ahead and on the other side of the creek. I had been to it before. It faced the creek in a quiet spot under the trees and only about 50 ft from the water. It had a wooden floor and a long overhang over the open front underneath which a picnic table sat relatively covered from the rain. It was idyllic, really, for a backpacker, anyway.
Maybe a little over two miles in through the tedious, flooded trail, we came upon three guys and one was laying back with his left leg up in the air. I asked what happened and they said that their buddy had broken his lower leg when he sunk into the mud and fell over on it. As he was talking, I could just about hear the bone snapping - I could well understand the possibility of this happening, having just hiked on the same trail for over two miles. They were pretty well freaked out and he was obviously in pain. My wife Jana’ and I slipped out of our packs I found some good sticks and used a big roll of ace bandage to make a pretty good splint. As I was wrapping up his splint good and sturdy, a group of about five Boy Scouts came trotting by - whoa, I had a hard time stopping them, more or less having to block their path, I grabbed the guy’s pack and swung it onto the back of the biggest boy scout even as he stood there complaining about it. I strapped it on quick and I told him to just deal with it and drop the pack off at the ranger station when he gets there. I told them it was only two miles and the least they could do for another outdoorsmen. I sent the Boy Scouts on their way. Jana’ and I had almost been at our shelter by this time so I told these three guys to help their buddy, one on each side, and ease on down the trail, assuring them that it was no more than about two miles. Jana’ and I hiked on and quickly came to the shelter. The creek was up to our thighs, wide and fast.
I had to throw our 100lb baby on my back and carry him across and then Jana’ and I brought our packs across and we were - thank god - the only ones at the shelter. It is really a treat to have a shelter to yourself especially in such a great location. I left my pack there and Jana’ to unpack and set up camp and went back after the three guys. They hadn’t gotten too far and we all took turns shouldering the guy until we were maybe ¼ mile from the parking area and they all told me to take it back, seeing how it was my Anniversary and all! I managed to get back to our shelter, once again having to cross the river, and after which it was hard to keep the boots dry. There was just no way to cross that river without boots on. But we were glad to have this shelter. It was high enough to stand up in, there was a relatively dry picnic table, always valuable in the wilderness, and we loved being perfectly dry while a constant rain drummed pleasantly upon the roof of our little log shelter all night long.
That was just the first night of a six night backpacking trip through the high peaks region of the Adirondacks, starting by continuing up and crossing over Indian Pass, still covered with a foot or so of hard packed snow. Our dog Bear often had to be carried and once we had to rig up a rope to his doggy backpack and raise and lower him up and down a 100 ft cliff. But I think that he enjoyed it as much as we did ourselves. I still remember him sitting down underneath of his doggy pack panting. Bear rested every chance he got. I got a lot of those pictures, Bear looking up, “what, can’t a guy rest?”
Besides having to deal with a foot or so of hard packed snow up on Indian Pass, the rest of trip lacked the excitement of the start. That first night Jana’ showed a lot of faith in me just by taking it in stride.

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Food in central America

2008-01-14T08:55:11Z

I'm considering traveling to Central America (starting in Guatemala and heading southwards) for around 1-2 months. I'm a vegetarian that doesn't eat dairy.... what do I eat when I'm there? Anyone know how much meat people eat there commonly?

posted in Backpackers - 4 replies

What do you think if you meet a barefoot backpacker?

2008-01-05T23:45:55Z

I’m travelling a lot, mainly in Asia and especially in India. I’m an average guy in my 30ties, and there’s nothing unusual about the way I dress while travelling: Shorts, a colourful, short-sleeved shirt, a rustic tribal necklace, a leather bracelet and my huge backpack… Nevertheless: I’m arresting attention wherever I go, and even complete strangers ask me curious questions. The reason: My size 45 feet are always bare! Yes, I’m travelling barefoot - everywhere: I’ve covered thousands of kilometres on my bare soles, without any footwear in my backpack… “Barefoot, free and happy”, that’s my motto! I wonder: What do you think if you see a barefoot backpacker like me? My evenly tanned, strong feet are almost always dusty, with soles black as coal - but they are decorated with toe rings, a colourful hemp-anklet and tiny little bells. Imagine you meet me on the road, somewhere in India: Will you think “hey, this guy is cool”?

posted in Backpackers - 11 replies

anyone have tips for traveling Greece & Italy on the cheep?

2007-12-26T09:43:59Z

I'll be leaving for Italy in a couple of weeks. Has anyone traveled Italy or Greece in the winter? Have any tips for me? I'll be over there for a month and am looking to keep costs down as much as possible.
Thanks!

posted in Backpackers - 2 replies

SE Asia January-March

2007-12-25T07:55:43Z

Hey all....

I'm a first time backpacker, planning a trip through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia from January thru March.

Any tips on particular must see sites or guesthouses to stay at or anything? I'm going in the height of tourist season, but I'd like to stay a little off the beaten path in order to avoid the crowds. I've got Lonely Planet guides for all 3 countries, but insider tips from people who have been there would be greatly appreciated :)

Thanks!

posted in Backpackers - 5 replies

First Time Backpacker Leaving the 27th for RIO!

2007-12-19T04:26:41Z

Hey everyone. I'm just looking for a few suggestions on things like travel underwear brands, cleaning kits, water purifying tablets... any other good things to take along. I'm staying in Brazil for about a month and I don't want to bring much more than a backpack. Any tips would be awesome!!!

thanks!!!!

posted in Backpackers - 2 replies

Backpacking, Nixon, Explosion

2007-12-15T18:24:02Z

I went on my first backpacking trip when I was fourteen with a YMCA group. We went up into the Shenandoah National Park and it happened to be the week that Nixon resigned. Our leader was a 19 year old college student studying anthropology named Lisa. I, of course, feel totally and completely and instantly in love with her. We ended up sharing a tent and words could not possibly express how thrilled I was by this. I doubt I slept much the whole week, thinking as she slept next to me, “oh my God, she’s sleeping right next to me”. I thought that I was very cool about my feelings for her and that no one suspected, even Lisa herself. I was keenly aware that there was no hope for us due to our age difference such that this would be both my first experience with love and my first experience with unrequited love. Out of my love for her, I made it my business to take care of everything that I could. I took the inevitable problem kid under my wing so as to leave Lisa free to deal with everything else. I ended up transferring 80-90 percent of his stuff into my backpack just to keep him from literally crying. He was small kid for his age and he was only about ten, I think. Most of the other kids kind of hated him almost instinctually in that Lord of the Flies kind of way. I told Lisa to go ahead with the others and I would stay with this pour little guy. If he was perceived as slowing everyone down, it would just make it worse for him. At times we walked hand and hand and I did feel sorry for the little guy, he was definitely not having a good time.
When little Robert and I caught up to the group they were strewn out along the side of a creek. Some already had tents up. I stopped next to Lisa who was standing next to the creek.
“Lisa, I’m dying of thirst,” I said, “where do I get water around here?”
She laughed, thinking that I was making a joke then looked really surprised when she realized that I was serious. She pointed to the creek flowing literally at my feet and said, “right there, David,”.
I came from the city and the last thing I would think to do was drink out of a creek because they were hopelessly polluted. I don’t know what I expected but I never dreamed that you could simply drink water out of a creek. “That’s safe to drink?” I asked skeptically. She assured me that it was and partly because she was the leader and partly because I loved her so much, I accepted that as 100 percent truth and flung off my backpack and dropped to my knees and drank right out of the creek like an animal. It was wonderful. I thought, man, this is the coolest thing ever! I just couldn’t believe it. I was blown away. When I stood up finally, Lisa pointed out that I could use a cup if I wanted to.
A while later I was feeling very sick. I withdrew away from the group and sat behind a large tree. I didn’t want Lisa to see me in my weakened condition so I hid out there for quite a while – dehydration, probably since I had not drank much until reaching camp. I wanted to just shake it off so bad but every time I tried to stand up, I became violently ill and threw up. I figured that it would be best to stay incognito behind my tree than to go wandering around camp throwing up.
After a good hour or two, it eased up. Lisa approached me and said she wanted to talk to me. She said that she was thinking of putting Robert in her tent since we were one person short on tents and asked me what I thought. I was hyperaware that she was treating me somewhat like a peer in this and my ego was inflated beyond imagination. It was all I could do to keep it down, like manhandling a runaway Macy’s Day Balloon. To be sure, I took it seriously. In my mind, we may as well have been debating whether or not to nuke Russia. I pointed out that we had five days ahead of us and that if she did that the other kids would really make fun of little Robert. I suggested pairing him with the next smallest guy. She agreed and then dropped the bomb. I would sleep in her tent, then. I couldn’t have been more stunned if the sun had dropped down to earth and handed me a Big Mac complete with fries and a coke.
We did the fire chat thing, roasting marshmallows and just laughing and talking informally and didn’t go to bed until late. In the tent we didn’t talk and Lisa fell asleep almost instantly. The aroma of her sweaty hair in the close tent on the warm, humid summer night was almost more than I could bare. I found myself quite content just to be so close to her in the same tent and feel asleep with a smile on my face.
The next day proceeded as usual. The two oldest boys were friends and they hung together. Lisa would give them her second map and discuss the days hike and they would just go off on their own. They were maybe sixteen, which from my perspective as a fourteen year old was almost as ancient as nineteen. Then Lisa would take the front and I would bring up the rear with my new charge, Robert. I would make Robert pack his stuff and then after everyone had gone ahead, we would unpack most of it and put it in my pack. As we hiked I’d take every opportunity to coach him on how not to be such an outcast and how to fit in with the other guys. With a lot of work over the course of the week Robert sort of found his place, even if it turned out to be sort of as our mascot. At least the rest of them stopped making fun of him.
On the third night we camped on top of a ridge and this was the night Nixon was suppose to give his resignation speech. I told Lisa that I had a little radio in my pack and I was hoping be able to get the Nixon broadcast. She was really impressed by this. We set our tent a good distance away from the others and later that evening managed to tune in the Nixon broadcast. She asked me why I hadn’t brought out the radio before and I explained that this was no place for a radio – I only brought it for the Nixon broadcast because it is so important. This really seemed to impress her. I don’t understand quite myself since I wasn’t that politically aware at the time and barely understood what it was all about. She explained a lot to me during the build up to his big speech. I still didn’t really understand. Lisa’s smell was getting better and better every day and by now in these close quarters it was sort of making it hard for me to think clearly. When he finally did resign, we both cried, holding each other. Lisa was really upset. Through her tears she managed to say angrily, “I don’t know why I’m crying for that goddamn sonofabitch”. This surprised me because she was a preacher’s daughter and I had yet to hear her curse. I’m pretty sure that I was crying mostly because she was crying but in my child’s mind I had some sense of how momentous an occasion this was. After talking a long time, mostly Lisa talking, she came to the conclusion that she had not cried for Nixon, she had cried for our country and this seemed to make her feel a lot better. Since at this point in our relationship I had literally not yet even considered sex, this night was as close of a bonding as I could have hoped for with Lisa.
The following evening found us camping at a three sided Adirondack shelter – rather camping around it and using it as a communal area for eating and socializing. A group of four young long haired guys joined us. They of course had a much better handle of the social situation and Lisa very much enjoyed their company, much to my dismay. They offered her some of the steak they were cooking and she politely declined. I thought that was very honorable and it made me love her even more. Likewise, she deferred the joint that came her way. I was the only one of our group hanging out with them. I had a lot of question about hippies, the war, Nixon, and they seemed to get a kick out of the combination of my naiveté and curiosity. One of the guys was a draft dodger and he had been hiking on the Appalachian Trail for a month and was going to continue on up then up the Long Trail through Vermont and hike right into Canada and what he called freedom. His friends were hiking with him here and there where they could and bringing him supplies. This was the compelling story at the table and everyone was very supportive of what he was doing.
Suddenly there was an explosion and we all literally leapt to our feet – an explosion was as incongruent in this environment as just about anything could be. About a 150 ft from the shelter where we were sitting was the camp John, and the door flew open with amazing amounts of smoke and John (one of the sixteen year old boys) came flying out at the same time. He collapsed onto his knees, coughing and puking. Lisa screamed. We all got to him at the same time and the first thing you couldn’t help but notice was the smell. The hair on his head was singed pretty badly and what little facial hair he had as well as his eyebrows were completely singed off. Foul fecal smoke still rolled out of the John. By now everyone had gathered around poor John in what had to be his greatest moment of humiliation. He had some minor burning on his face no worse than a bad sunburn and his sight seemed to be fine.
When he had calmed down and stopped coughing, he told us what happened. The question as to what happened was on everyone’s mind as the smoke steady rolled out of the John: what the hell? He explained that he didn’t like the smell in the John’s so he always lit an entire pack of matches and dropped them down into the pit to mitigate the smell. The hippy heading to Canada was a chemistry major and he laughed, everyone looking at him askance. “Methane, man,” he laughed. “Shit produces methane gas and it’s highly flammable.” John explained that he had just dropped it in and was looking down at it when it exploded. Now everyone was laughing, even John. It blew the locked door open and blew him out. Lisa hiked with him up to the nearest road and flagged down a Ranger and got him a ride out, his friend going with him. He smelled like shit.

posted in Backpackers - 2 replies

Mary got Lost

2007-12-15T03:35:17Z

Mary wondered meaningfully what time it was. It was so dark she couldn’t even see her own hand in front of her in the tent. She thought that maybe she could hold out if it were early morning. She didn’t want to wake Jim just to hold her hand to go to the bathroom. After what seemed like an hour she couldn’t stand it anymore and resolved to get out of the tent. She already had the flashlight clutched against her chest as if it were a crucifix protecting her from vampires. She managed to get up and out of the tent without waking Jim and she was proud of that. Mary was not used to playing the part of that little lost girl and she wasn’t about to start now – only, it was awfully dark and who knew whether or not a bear or mountain lion was out there. One could be standing three feet away for all she knew. She pointed the light away from the tent so as not to bother Jim and turned it on – nothing. Damn, she had been holding that light like a talisman all night and it didn’t even work. Outside the tent there was just a little light. She knocked the flashlight against the palm of her hand as quietly as she could after stepping a few tentative feet away from the tent and it flickered uncertainly to life. My God the relief.
Get a grip, girl, she told herself in a whisper.
It seemed to provide just barely enough light and she eased into the woods looking for a play to pee. It was really hard to overcome the urge to pee practically on top of the tent but that was childish and disgusting and just thinking about it encouraged her to move even further into the woods.
I can do this, she told herself. For Christ’s sake Mary, the tent is just right there. She was not accustomed to fear and was getting pretty frustrated with herself, especially given that all this angst was over something so incredibly banal. She would feel a lot better about the whole thing if the stupid flashlight just had a strong beam instead of the weak, slightly flickering beam it now projected into the almost black wilderness. When she finally went it took about two seconds and she really felt silly about it all, smiling wryly in the dark. As she pulled up her sweats the light slipped out of her hand. Shit, pitch dark again. She picked it up and knocked it again against the palm of her hand. Numerous attempts and nothing. She felt angry at the flashlight feeling as if it had somehow seduced her out into this predicament and she wanted to smash it on the ground or just heave it off into the dark.
Every time she tried to call out to Jim, she just couldn’t do it. Finally she managed to call in a kind of ridiculous whisper. No answer. Jim could sleep through anything and she knew she was going to half to basically scream to wake him up. It struck her in an odd way then that she had never actually screamed out loud in her entire life – maybe in childhood, she couldn’t remember. This set her to knocking the stupid flashlight against her palm again only a little more fervently. The only reason she didn’t throw the goddamn useless piece of shit this time was because she reasoned that it could still serve as a weapon. The idea of being out in the dark, mountain wilderness alone with absolutely nothing at all was enough to put her over the edge – stupid flashlight, she thought, squeezing it as hard as she could in an attempt to hurt it.
In something approaching her own moment of truth, she decided that she did not want to be that woman screaming for her man and set off back to the tent. It was only literally a few feet away, she reasoned. An indeterminate amount of time later, having moved in the direction that she was certain was toward the tent, in the faintest light from the stars, she stomped her foot and whispered a heartfelt, Shit!, Shit!, Shit!. Why are you whispering, she then asked herself out loud.
“Jim!” she screamed for the first time in her life. The first time felt like a warm up and then she really let it out, “Jim! Jimmy! Please!” And this went on for a while with intermittent moments of silence as she waited for Jim’s response. When no response came she sat down and cried without the slightest self consciousness. That was probably another first. Her thoughts seemed to be wriggling around in her mind like box full of hungry puppies. She could care less about bears now.
Suddenly she felt a small hand in her own hand and she screamed like a pro leaping to her feet as if a puppet yanked up by a puppeteer. In the dim light there was a little girl still holding her hand now looking up at her with big, beautiful dark eyes and a serious expression on her tiny, child’s face. Mary realized then where that phrase about your bowels going cold as ice came from. She was so frightened she couldn’t breathe, she definitely couldn’t speak. At the same time that some part of her insisted that she run, another part was thinking how much her eyes had adjusted to the dark and how well she could see this little girl.
“It’s okay,” the little girl said, reassuringly. She reached up and placed her other hand on top of Mary’s hand and squeezed gently. “Jim’s pretty sound asleep, so I came to help you back.”
When her little hands squeezed gently around Mary’s hand, Mary felt the abject fear drain down through her legs into the earth and she felt suddenly exhausted in that way one can be so exhausted by an extreme adrenaline rush. She felt as if all the blood had drained from her head and she wobbled a little, her mind almost a blank.
“Come on,” encouraged the little girl, looking up at Mary still holding her hand. Mary noticed then almost dreamily that that the little girl wore a ball cap and a tee shirt with some kind of sport logo, short pants and cute little girl hiking boots, but it was too dark to tell the colors. As the little girl moved she pulled lightly on Mary’s hand and Mary followed her diminutive figure through the dark forest. Mary found that she had total faith in this girl but that she couldn’t quite bring herself to focus on her. Every time she wanted to say something to the little girl, like “who the hell are you” she would become distracted by negotiating the dark terrain. It seemed like they were back at the tent in less than five minutes and Mary found herself too relieved and too tired to feel as stupid as she thought she should feel – I knew it was right there, she thought.
When the little girl let go of her hand, she turned to look down at her to ask the little girl where her campsite was, where here parents were – but she was gone. The hair stood up on the back of Mary’s neck and she collapsed at the door of the tent which was still open and she screamed again, at the same time beating Jim on his head with both her fists. This time he woke up right away. It took a long time for her to stop shaking and crying and she couldn’t even speak to answer his question as to what was wrong. Finally, when she had calmed down enough to explain what had happened, Jim assured her that it had only been a bad dream. No one was camped anywhere near them, he explained to her calmly. She could tell that this was no time to debate with Jim and they both climbed into their bags and went back to sleep. Rather, Jim went back to sleep. Mary lay awake the rest of the night, every so often glancing out the open door of the tent into the dark.
Just before dawn she said softly under her breath, “thank you” and fell asleep for a few hours.

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

The Phil Trip White Mountains New Hampshire October

2007-12-10T20:08:22Z

We hiked those somewhat unique trails all day, boulder climbing straight up at times. It clouded up and the wind started blowing and even still below tree line, we had to stop and add clothes. We hit tree line and make our way in a light snow being whipped by a ferocious wind until heading down back into the trees to our destination at one of the big three sided huts located at various points in the wilderness. When we get there it is raining pretty good and quite chilly. A very attractive young female "camp host" took our money, only a few dollars, and we found ourselves in the large hut a few minutes later. The front roof overhung the sleeping area by three feet so you could stand under the eve of the hut and change out of the rain. There were already two guys there, working guys older than us, maybe in their 30's up from NYC.They were cool and after a while trading stories about where we came from and where we were going, we hit it off pretty good. Not long after this a group of girls scouts straggled in. I approached the leader first because she was smoking hot. I asked her what was up and she said that they really had to push it to get there and many of the girls where various stages of hypothermia. I told her we would do what we could. The first thing that I did was put on a pot of water. Phil was not happy at all. I explained that we needed to help them they were in pretty rough shape. He pointed out how they couldn't even get their stoves going, shaking his head in discust. Why are you being such an asshole about this? I asked him. He gave me that look and said that he wasn't lifting a finger - they should be able to take care of themselves if they come out here, dammit, he grumbled. I may go put a tent up on a platform, he threatened. We both looked out of the hut into the cold, pouring rain. No way I'm going out there if I don't have to, I thought.
The girls really were a mess. Some were shaking uncontrollably. Some were crying. All were soaked. The bad thing we found was that many of them didn't have any dry clothes since the contents of their packs were also soaked. It took a while and some trading of clothes but we eventually got them settled in with thankfully fairly dry sleeping gear and some hot food and drink. The hut had a loft that ran its length allowing for quite a few people to sleepy up there - ten maybe. The body could hold up to twenty, I figured - that would only be if it had to all all would be crammed together. Phil and the two original guys were up in the loft and Phil looked down on the motley crue below with more distain. About the time that the girls had gotten comfortable, here comes three more guys. "Great" I heard Phil mutter from up in the loft. They were not hypothermic but they were soaked and all smiles as the slipped under the eave of the shelter, climbing out of dripping wet packs. It became immediately clear that this was a openly gay threesome. The one guy who was I guess you would say the most flambouyant, seemed to be the submissive one and literally served the other two, more dominant guys the entire time they were there. Well, this was more than Phil could take. He tromped out into the pouring rain with his gear and set up our tent out on one of the empty tent platforms. I let him get it set up and waited long enough until I was sure he had gotten around to some bong hits, then I wandered over and went inside, did some bong hits with the Phil, who was feeling better now. By the time I left Phil's lone tent out on the tent platforms, it was growing dark. A few more stragglers had arrived and the shelter was packed, so many drawn by the unusual length and tenacity of this rain storm. I bunked up top between the original two guys and the three gay guys. Steve was the gay guy who did everything for the other two guys, the way some wives used to do for their husband. He took each of their coats off and found nails to hang them on. He took their we cloths and hung them and then handed them dry clothes - I watched this with fascination and started talking to Steve. I intened to ask him if he liked being submissive such a degree? But I never could get my nerve up to do it. He seemed very happy though and I finally figured that it wasn't any of my business, seemed to work for him. Later in the night I couldn't sleep so I sat up against the back of the hut and fired up a bowl of pot. Steve was sleeping right next to me and he woke and wanted a hit so we got high and spoke in whispers in the dark of the shelter, maybe 4am. I got to ask him a few of the main question I had for gay people and he was really cool about answering. HIs two friends had never even been camping before this and Steve had talked them into the adventure. This was why he was taking care of them.
In the morning I got the phone number for the hottest girl scout leader. She was exactly my age 17 only she lived 200 miles away from where I lived, so I sensed failure right from the start. While Steve was busy rousing and taking care of this two charges, I made him some coffee and oatmeal, which I think he really appreciated. Finally, I heard Phil with his three foot long bong waking and baking inside his tent on the platform below us. The great thing about this hut is that is is located just below tree line and once up here you don't have a long haul back up to the ridgeline. Maybe with a mile of moderate climbing, we'll be right back up there. I thought of that a lot because getting up here the day before had kicked my ass.

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

packing for Thailand

2007-12-04T03:23:45Z

Having already been to Thailand, I know that I can pretty much buy anything I need when I get there this second time around. But I think I'll need to pack at least a few things. What should I absolutely pack that I would not be able to get in Thailand? I'll be staying at a friend's house near Chiang Mai for most of my stay.

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

visit me in VT

2007-11-24T22:13:34Z

I love company. Come visit me in the Lake Willoughby National Recreational Area on my mountainside, idyllic, 160 acre off-road property. If you love nature, you're invited. Photos at my profile. Photos and video at www.baldmountainretreat.com.
All good things,
Dr DAvid

posted in Backpackers - 5 replies

GOA-India- Dec'08 !

2007-11-23T05:01:22Z

Hey any of u guyz travellin to Goa in dec...loads of parties happenin and itz a fun place to be in that time of the yr.....hope to cya u in GOA ! i am headin to goa on 21st and wud be there till 7th jan 08...any info need ping me

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

your favorite travel programs

2007-11-17T22:26:34Z

i love "globe trekker" (particularly ian moore)
but that is the only program i know of
do you know of any travel programs that you can recommend?
i rent them on dvd, rather than watching tv...so travel channel is only a plan b for me.
i work at home and like to pop in dvd's when i'm in a mindless point of my work
and it is awesome to watch travel dvds...kinda like research about where i'll go next.
but i am getting close to seeing all globe trekkers and need a new source...
whatchyagot???

p.s. if you want to go further on this topic, i think justine shapiro is a **horrible** traveller...so opinionated, princess-y and negative...so opposite qualities of a traveller!!!

posted in Backpackers - 3 replies

tuva camp 2008

2007-11-17T21:27:24Z

Dear Friends

Thank you for your interest to our music.

Last summer we held a throat singing camp in Tuva.

We had 14 students from around the world - 8 of them were from the US, 2 from Australia
2 from Denmark, 1 from France, 1 from England.
After arriving in Tuva, the students spent 1 week in Kyzyl, the capital city.
They were able to see many tourist attractions, see a Tuvan shaman,
and attend the Naadym - National Harvest Celebration.

The students then went on to spend 1 week in the deep taiga, with members of the Tuvan throat singing group Chirgilchin,
learning various styles of throat singing, traditional Tuvan instruments, as well as the Tuvan language.

This summer, we are trying to get 2 groups to go to Tuva again, in either June or July.

Please let me know if you have any further questions.

Please check our photos made by Russell Roesner - our student.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bertdanger/sets/72157602427847575/

Thank you
Alexander

www.purenaturemusic.com
www.chirgilchin.com

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Rookie question part 2

2007-10-13T04:16:16Z

Hi there,

I'm going on my second big trip this January, and am planning right now to be gone for a year. I'm starting in Mexico City and Guanajuato, and then am going to meander down, eventually getting to South America somehow. I'm not positive about the rest of the trip, as I want to leave it pretty open. Northern Africa, India and Southeast Asia are all up for debate after I leave South America. My question is: What have some of you veterans found essential to know, whether about what you HAVE to pack, what you must leave at home that's worthless, certain places you need to apply for visas and such first, etc.? I've looked around the lonely plant website a bit, and done some research, but I like what people here have to say. Any thoughts?

Cheers,

Kira

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Rookie Question

2007-10-12T07:49:04Z

I went out and got what seemed to be a huge back pack...4750 cu. in.
But then got a sleeping bag that even with stuff sack seem to take up tons of room. Am I not stuffing it enough? Should I strap it to the outside of the pack?
I can't image room for a week long trip with the bag, let alone a tent.
Any thoughts?
Paul

posted in Backpackers - 19 replies

WANTED: Travel Buddy

2007-10-08T17:08:48Z

I'm looking for a travel partner. Age, race, and sex do not matter. However, I'm on a budget and I do everything the cheapest way possible. I require that you join this online community called "Couchsurfing" (www.couchsurfing.com) it's free, and it basically puts you in touch with people willing to let you sleep on their couch instead of paying for a hotel room. I've used it twice and have had amazing experiences.

Where I'd like to go... I want to go to Vancouver. Or Mexico some where. In the long haul, I want to spend a couple MONTHS over in Europe and eventually travel to Australia. I'm pretty open to suggestions though. I have a passport. I'm free to go whenever after Oct 28th of this year., I'm actually volunteering in Yellowstone National Park until then. If I don't get any reposnes from this, I'll be flying to New York at the 28th, just for a heads-up.

About me... you can look at my profile, or at a glance, I'm female, 22, and I'm a photographer. I used to be a bar-tender so I'd consider myself pretty easy to get along with. All of my friends are guys, although I get along well with women, I guess I just relate more to laid-back people(I've found that many women are drama-ridden).

I'm getting sick of typing. So if you're at all interested, let's chat.

posted in Backpackers - 5 replies

Thailand or India?

2007-10-08T04:33:14Z

All my travels so far have been in countries I speak the language; everywhere from Canada all the way down to Mexico & Central America. I want to see something completely different, where there's nothing familiar. I know very little about these countries and am feeling it out to see which would fit the best. I'd go between 2 - 6 months starting the end of November or so.

India :: I've heard some intense things about India; how it's not very travel friendly, that it overwhelms your senses too much and exhausts you, too man people haggling you everywhere all the time, everyone trying to rip you off everywhere, it stinks, etc. etc. Is this true? It doesn't sound exciting if it is. What draws me is the spirituality, yoga, the colors, etc.

Thailand :: I've heard the opposite; lots of backpackers, fun, friendly, easy to travel, etc.

* Also, is it possible to get an open return ticket instead of having to decide when I want to return before I even leave? Or if not, how much does it cost to change the return date?

posted in Backpackers - 3 replies

Loyalsock Trail in Central PA

2007-09-11T05:44:27Z

Anyone familiar with the Loyalsock Trail in Central PA?

I am planning a solo trek on the 6th starting at World's End State Park, and continuing on the Loyalsock for a portion. Are there frequent stops, or any water spouts?

posted in Backpackers - 6 replies

Dragonmill / Drachenmuehle / Drachenmühle

2007-07-30T21:26:28Z

Permaculture Europan and the Eco-Dragon.

We are inviting people from all over Europe and the World to come to
the Dragonmill and Support on her land.

...with the guidance of good natural teachers: this might be helpfull.

We would also appreciate some teachers to come this
summer ....2007/12 to teach with us
permaculture classes working on the land of mother earth
to establish new gardens,
sustainable technology as well as sustainable / intentional community design:
by example bioregional animism, practical agricultural skills, ethnobotanic, ethnobiology,
psychedelic paintings, music, yoga, meditation, community building, consensus decision making....

see more on :

www.dragonmill.net
www.drachenmuehle.de

people.tribe.net/dragonfamily
tribes.tribe.net/dragonmill

join and share ....

To Gaea

To Gaea, mother of all of life and oldest
of gods, I sing,
You who make and feed and guide all
creatures of the earth,
Those who move on your firm and radiant
land, those who wing
Your skies, those who swim your seas, to
all these you have given birth;
Mistress, from you come all our harvests,
our children, our night and day,
Yours the power to give us life, yours
to take away.

To you, who contain everything,

To Gaea, mother of all, I sing.

—Homeric Hymn to Earth

Dragonbrother Christian, Annahexe, ....the Dragonmill and her Mothers Land.

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies

Cool, Quick Way to Make Some Travel Cash

2007-07-30T19:08:07Z

Hey I was just reading through the Financing your Travels thread over on the Practical Nomads Tribe (here if you haven't seen it)

http://practicalnomad.tribe.net/thread/7ba4318d-a30c-46df-84e6-a658ec1e32eb

and have a quick idea for people who want to make some easy money.

So I just started working at Google in the user interface department (I'm actually saving for a trek from Chile to Argentina in January, ping me if you have any suggestions!). My job is basically to look at how people interact with new products to figure out what we should change/tweak/dump. Right now my department is having a big problem, Google is making awesome new toys so fast that we can't find enough people to test them out. In fact, we're having so much trouble that we just bumped up pay rates for beta testers which now range from $250-$75 an hour (granted it's usually 75-100). Beta Testers typically visit an office in Silicon Valley, Seattle Area, Santa Monica, or NYC but I think there are also offices in london, beijing and hyderabad that do some testing.

Here's the cool thing, we also do tests that are ONLINE so you can sign up from anywhere, perfect for the practical nomad:) I'm pretty sure that the range for online tests is a little bit lower, $40-$200 per study but I've traveled in Asia, India, Africa, Europe, and South America and I know that even $40 extra dollars is enough to keep people from going back to the cube/suit/whatever for at least a few days.

Here's how it works, follow the link, sign up and someone from google will contact you if you fit the criteria for a study.

https://survey.google.com/wix/p0822776.aspx?referral_code=TR2

and I'm not trying to spam this forum, I've been a strong member of tribe since 04 and I love the community here. This is definitely an insider opportunity and I'd be happy to know that it went to someone living out the kind of international adventures we all live for :)

also, if you meet somebody who needs cash you can just tell them to go to

google.com/usability

(easy to remember!) and ask them to mention that they heard about it from tribe (there's a little box in the survey). You're also welcome to email this to lists or post in other forums if it's relevant or you think people would be into the idea. I created a referral code (TR2) but it doesn't really matter as long as you mention tribe.

So that's the deal, if you have any questions you can message me. In general we're looking for people over 18 who aren't programmers or ui designers.

Cheers and Safe Travels!

//TitaniumDreads

posted in Backpackers - 0 replies