Luke ain't got nothin' on this

Prologue

How many times have we wished that we could just disappear to live in the sky? How long have we stopped outside, taken a moment to look up at the sky, and taken a moment to daydream about what it would be like to walk through the clouds? By 'we' I mean us traveling folk, because I've never met a wanderluster who isn't totally and completely sucked in by such a grandiose thing as the sky. There ain't a one of us who hasn't had a tear imposed upon us, at one point or another in our lives, because of the sky. There is just something about the astronomical that tugs at us. The gateway to the cosmos is the sky, so why wouldn't we feel this affinity towards it? We feel it as a restlessness, as an urge to travel, as wanderlust. And it's true, I believe, of all us travelers, despite whether you physically follow that tug from the sky or not it's still in your heart. The sky and beyond always seems to draw us closer to it. It can be a weak draw, then maybe a little stronger, and, finally, with some things, an utterly and undeniably call that must be answered. A weak draw may be lying on the grass in San Antonio on a nice sunny day, staring up at the clouds as they float on by lazily. A stronger draw may be when you pick up a girl you've never met before on a cold night, drive out to a cotton field, and make a blanket burrito while watching a blood moon rise. This type of draw is when you go to Colorado for the first time when you're fourteen, stand in the snow under the stars, and realize this is the first time you've ever actually seen the stars. Or that fateful shooting star tracing by you and a friend at a perfect moment (Crazy Frogg ;)). Those are decent draws into the sky, stars and blood moons and other things of this such. But then there is more. Then there is a draw so strong you can't help but be lifted off your feet and into the air because you've completely forgotten gravity exist. These draws are on a level of God or higher. These are no mere shooting stars, no perfect sunset or sunrise on a frosty morning, no. This type of draw is as high above the stars as the stars are above the clouds, the ultimate. These are when you're working your first season on an Alaskan fishing boat, you groggily climb up on deck to use the 'toilet' in the middle of the night, and in your half slumber happen to glance up... And you completely unexpectedly see the Northern Lights dancing high above you. You're awestruck. Flabberghasted. It's that sort of draw. It's when you see something so incredible it brings tears to your eyes. It's that type of sky. It's the Salar de Uyuni. The Salt Flats of Bolivia. The type of sky that puts your heart in your throat and takes hold of you with a titanous grip. A sky that inspires wonder in every aspect of your being and captures you, at least momentarily, in entirety. Those are the type of draws where gravity must fight to keep you on Earth because you're fighting to leave it, and those are the types of draws we all search for.

"I'm restless. Things are pulling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again." - Anais Nin

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When at first I saw it, even from a distance, I felt my heart skip a beat (or 8). Literally felt like my heart took a pause in my chest until my brain could decipher what my eyes were telling it. 

Eyes: Dude, brain, tell heart he's gotta see this

Brain: HEY HEART, eyes says you gotta see this, just hold on a moment k heart?

Heart: Why does eyes get to see all the cool stuff?

Brain: Quiet heart, what is it eyes? 

Eyes: Well you know all those pictures we saw of the Salt Flats? The ones that heart liked?

Brain: The Salar de Uyuni, yeah, what about it?

Eyes: THEY WERE REAL

Brain: No way that it's THAT good

Eyes: It's better, can I... can I cry...?

(Nose): *Sniffle* 

Brain: Don't be a child eyes, you haven't even seen 'em for real yet. And nose, that was low drama at best. HEY HEART,  YOU CAN START AGAIN NOW, eyes says the Salar is all real. Go ahead and start feeling it.

Heart: YAAAAAAAAAHHHOOOOOOO!!

My eyes, and I'm sure everyone elses eyes, were only for the Salar in the distance. The poor llamas we were driving past must've felt really unappreciated because no one was paying them any attention. There was larger game afoot. It seemed like I held my breath from the moment I saw these dreamt of Bolivian Salt Flats in the distance, but that would've been a world record because it took us about 20 minutes to finally get to the start of them. Even so, I don't remember breathing or trying to look away from 'em from the moment they were in my sight to the moment they were in front of me. 

Driving up to them was like looking out into infinity. It was like a dream. I didn't know what to expect as I tentatively dipped my bare feet into the clear shallow water. I definitely didn't expect the salt to feel soft and sandlike underneath, but it did. Like a perfect beach (though in some parts the salt became more solid). Walking ankle deep in that water was what it feels like when a long awaited dream comes true. In no way was it dissappointing. It was just one of these incredible things the world saw fit to think up and make all by itself. 

 My first look at the Salar 

Soft Salt

It was incredible and we spent a good deal of time playing in the sky before we were off to go see a different part of the Salar. 

There is only one building allowed in the Salar, and the view from around it stretches on forever. I mean you can see so far over the salt flats you almost even feel like you're seeing the curviture of the Earth on the horizen. 

Sight

Inside the one building

Everything is made of salt

Seriously, everything is made of salt. It's crazy. Crazy cool. And you truly feel

like you could walk off in a direction and never get anywhere. So we spent a bit of time here exploring the place and eating lunch. Me and Zoe both were doing a good job of getting really sunburnt because the Salar is still around 13,000 feet up and these Chilean girls with us were being hilarious too. Then we all loaded up in the 4x4 for one more go at the skyfloor. 

Before, when we'd first seen it, it'd been a bunch of giant puddles (for lack of a better words). I hadn't realized, until we set off to see the skyfloor again, that I'd been holding a little tiny bit of my heart back this whole time just expecting to be absolutely floored (or skyed depending on where you're standing). But when the guide said we were going back to look at the sky floor again I knew they'd been saving something and I allowed myself to feel truly exhilarated. 

Now this really really looks like you're driving up into infinity. What I thought had been capturing before I now considered childs play. My eyes were pulsing ecstasy as we entered something I could only describe as sacred. This truly was where heaven meets Earth. This is where heaven meets Earth. That's exactly what I thought as I took my first real steps into the sky...

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Nothing else I could've said would

have done this place any justice. That being said, leaving a place like that isn't just sad. It'll break your heart. It'll break you heart right in two because you're coming down from the clouds. Coming back from the sky, wishing you could lose yourself there and not be found. Going back to the real world is tragic, in a sense, but you'll embrace it with a new sense of wonder when you leave. Because you now know that it's possible to walk in the sky. 

Be happy,

Beacon

P.S. This is me writing this very blog with Zoe drawing the day after we got back

BLOGCEPTION

That time we almost didn't make it into Bolivia

Walkin' down the street on a sunny day next to lake Titicaca (don't worry, I laugh every time I read the name too). Just enjoyin' good ol' Peru. Checking out the little swampland before the lake starts. Admiring the sky blue sky and the immensely puffy clouds taking their time in the distance. Loving the cool air in the sunshine. Hola chica, hola amigo. Que pasa? Que tal? Givin' everyone the head nod. Strolling past the marching band when some old men stop us for a chat and some beers. No biggie, your average day in Peru.

I've heard it said Wyoming is big sky country. Well whoever said that ain't never been here. Because this IS big sky. Not just big sky either, you're in the sky as well. You look up and all you see around you is sky. You can get lost in it and when you're lost in the sky sometimes it can be hard to coime back. Coming from Arequipa to Puno. We came down into Puno, and Puno sits at nearly 13,000 feet. We came DOWN to that altitude. You can high five the clouds as you're rolling down the road in a bus. Alpacas flying past you, flamingos in these sky high lakes, it's gorgeous. 

Lakes full of flamingos (I know right?!)

Somewhere along the way we got some mixed info. At the bus station they said it was $40 for the visa to Bolivia. The guy on the bus said $150. The guy on the Peru side of the border $155. Come on guys... So we arrive at the Bolivian border with what we though was enough cash to get through since leaving Puno they said it'd be $40 each. But apparently we didn't have enough.... And this is South America, there isn't an ATM sitting there all conveniently ye know? Well crap, what do we do? Go back to Peru and forget Bolivia? No! But we already 'checked out' of Peru. We gotta figure this out! We hustle back to the Peru side and find a cab, "Nececitamos un banco rapido!" (We need a bank fast!). And so we re-enter Peru illegaly for a 15 minute round trip ride to the bank, hoping all the while that our bus to La Paz (waiting at the border for everyone to go through immigration) doesn't leave our sorry selves packless ('cause our packs are on board) at the border. We manage to make it back, exchange our sols for dollars (apparently we have to buy the visa for Bolivia in dollars?), and get everything in order for purchasing the visa. Somehow they let us cut the super long line and then you know what? It was only 55 f'n dollars for the visa. We were misinformed at every single step of the way and we hadn't even needed to go back to Peru illegally! 

The gate to Bolivia

So we make it through. Thank goodness, and then we roll into the next town and change to this shabbily adorable little bus packed full of people (with many sitting on the floor). And off we are again! We meet Nina and she helps us out a ton 'cause we all well know I don't know what's happening. So we roll along with the beautiful sunset over lake Titicaca (haha) expecting to wake up in La Paz. Until we stop at the edge of the lake and we all get off the bus and are ushered over to the pier. Apparently this bus ride includes a boat. 

Excuse the blurry photo

We take a boat across while the bus is put on what's basically a log raft and poled across. This little escapade to Bolivia is turning out to be more of an adventure than expected. 3 hours later we roll into La Paz with no idea what to do. But we decide to split a hostel with our new friend Nina! When's the last time that happened to you in America? You meet someone on a bus and neither of you speak the others language well but you buddy up for the night anyways? I think it's pretty darn awesome. 

So y'all be happy,

Beacon :)

C'mon let's get high

Ye know, I don't get it. All these people who have no stake in the game and no experience in the sport telling me what's up and what ain't. Well, this is it boys and girls, I like to travel. I think it's fun. I get some good experiences and some better perspective from it. I've learned more in traveling and working than I ever did in school and I can speak from experience rather than from second and third person accounts of the world. I believe what I believe about certain parts of the world because I've been there, I cannot say I know there completely or even mostly, but I've glanced them. (Disclaimer: if this sounds bitter it's 'cause it's been bothering me a while). It's like when all these peeps are like "Oh no! You're going to South America!? You're gonna get kidknapped and die!" And then I'm like: Hon, when was the last time you went to South America? Ye know what I did in South America the other night? I went to a fly resturaunt in the plaza de armas of Arequipa with my friend Zoe (Ah, it's nice to have company again). We had a huge plate of amazing ceviche for not even 10 bucks while the table next to us was having a grand time playing their guitar and drums. Then they invited us over and bought us beer all night while laughing and taking turns playing songs. And that's what I'll remember about South America, not that I was gonna get kidknapped and die :)

Arequipa

Now that I'm off my soapbox, this is what the blogpost is really about. El Misti. The active volcano behind Arequipa. Standing at a staggering  19,000+ feet. Does anyone else get that thing where they see a giant mountain and immediately think 'I gotta climb that thing'? Well I do. Ever since I heard about it back in Ica I was like I gotta climb this. That is SO HIGH. The highest I'd ever been before was 15,000 feet and that was a couple weeks ago on this very trip. I remember walking a mile at that altitude and huffing for it too. What would it be like climbing a mountain that was over 4,000 feet HIGHER than that!? Jesus it must be breathtaking (pun intended). So me and Zoe set out to find out about this our first day in Arequipa. You either do it in two days or one. We went for the one.

Now there are a few things I must admit before I tell this story. First, I'm terribly out of shape. Second, I was NOT acclimated for that altitude. And third, it's SO HIGH. (Also, kind of by accident, but not by my fault, I had more than a full pack on 'cause the guide peeps wanted me to take more than needed). That being said, let's continue. 

We left Arequipa at midnight in a 4X4 because there is no other way to get there. It takes around an hour to get there. Getting to the bottom you can see Misti looming over you. And I mean looming in every sense of the word. We're about to attempt to hike up 7,000 feet over 10-15 km at a HIGH altitude. Am I ready for this? I don't know. Actually I do know, and it's no haha, but I'm gonna give it a shot because that is who I am.

The morning hike through the sunrise was gorgeous. Absolutely amazing. But needless to say we could feel the altitude from the beginning. And it took us 5 hours to get to the base camp. 

Sunrise over the neighboring volcano 

Unfortunately at base camp Zoe was not enjoying the altitude and optioned to chill there while me and the guide pushed for the top. The base camp is still really really HIGH, but still 6 or so hours from the top. So off me and the dude went. Now this is no mountain in America. There is no trail. This is go. Go up, switchback, do what you gotta f'n do because you're forcing your way through a mountainside of snow at an altitude of higher than you've ever been before by thousands of feet. 

I was feeling good for a while. But then there was a point. Around 17,500 where I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe sitting, resting, and sure as hell not hiking through the snow up a mountain. But I kept going. A little at a time. A switchback at a time. A little more. A little less. Fall over and rest. A little more. Until finally I didn't know if I could go on. But I knew I could. I knew I could force my body to do it. I was at over 18,000 feet and so very close. We had two hours to make it, and I knew I could but it would take the full 2 hours. And then I thought about how out of shape I was and how I hadn't even attempted at getting acclimated and how I still had to go down, and I said 18,000 is good enough for me haha. Plus I didn't want Zoe waiting too long at the altitude in the cold if it wasn't doing her well. And so that's how I almost climbed El Misti, but was still happy with almost climbing it :)

At this point I was pretty wrecked though. Fighting through knee deep snow up thousands of feet at that altitude had done me pretty good. And going down is always hardest... So I basically rolled down the mountain.... 

My roll trail

Which was fucking exhausting as well. The many rocks I threw myself into didn't help either. But, as I said, I was fairly wrecked. We made it back to Zoe at the base camp and started heading down through the volcanic sand and the mist that must've given Misti his name. 

El Misti

When we got back to town, we got a hotel room ($20 a night haha), a hot shower, and collapsed into exhausted sleep.

Be happy all, 

Beacon

PS I woke up today with a raccoon sunburn feeling like someone'd pushed me down a mountain. Which, basically, is what I'd done to myself.