After 18+ hours in airplanes and airports, I made it back to Los Angeles and have spent the past week relaxing at home. Tomorrow I move back into Caltech, and school begins at the end of September. So, I probably won't be going on many adventures for the next 9 months...
I hope you've enjoyed reading about my summer and seeing all my photos!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
New pictures, descriptions and captions will come later
I put up a new album of what I did today...I'm pretty tired and need to get up early for another climbing adventure tomorrow, so I won't add captions until later.
There's 2 sets of pictures in this album: the first are mine, the second are Sonia's - Sonia was the third climber in our group. She's one of the other climbers that Hamik knows in Chamonix - she lives in London working as a nurse, and then takes off to go climbing whenever she can afford to.
There's 2 sets of pictures in this album: the first are mine, the second are Sonia's - Sonia was the third climber in our group. She's one of the other climbers that Hamik knows in Chamonix - she lives in London working as a nurse, and then takes off to go climbing whenever she can afford to.
Monday, August 24, 2009
2 new posts, and next week's plans
Since I don't have internet at the new apartment, I wrote 2 updates over the weekend and put them up this morning at work. I don't plan to do anything exciting this week (except starting the write-up for my project, fun...), so this is probably going to be my last post from Iceland.
On Friday (Aug 28), I will fly from Iceland to Paris, and then take the TGV (high-speed train) to Geneva, where I'll spend the night in a hostel. The following morning I'll take the train into Chamonix, and meet up with Hamik at the climbers' hostel there. I'll spend the next couple of days climbing and sightseeing in Chamonix. Then, on Tuesday (Sept 1), I'll take the train down to Lyon and fly from Lyon to Lisbon to visit Joe. There, I'll spend 2 days in Lisbon, and then I fly back to LA on Friday!
I'll have internet periodically all week, so I should at least be putting up pictures as I go.
On Friday (Aug 28), I will fly from Iceland to Paris, and then take the TGV (high-speed train) to Geneva, where I'll spend the night in a hostel. The following morning I'll take the train into Chamonix, and meet up with Hamik at the climbers' hostel there. I'll spend the next couple of days climbing and sightseeing in Chamonix. Then, on Tuesday (Sept 1), I'll take the train down to Lyon and fly from Lyon to Lisbon to visit Joe. There, I'll spend 2 days in Lisbon, and then I fly back to LA on Friday!
I'll have internet periodically all week, so I should at least be putting up pictures as I go.
Reykjavik Marathon and Cultural Festival
When I was on the rafting trip a few weekends ago, I was in such a hurry to dry off and get dressed that I accidentally left my running shoes in the women's changing room (I had brought a pair of sandals, and I was wearing those instead of my shoes). I emailed and called them several times about my shoes, and they assured me that they had looked and my shoes weren't anywhere. I was pretty annoyed, because that week turned out to be really lovely – sunny, not too windy or rainy – and I couldn't go out running to enjoy it. After I had given up all hope of finding my running shoes, and had discovered that new running shoes would cost twice as much as I would pay in the US, I got an email saying that they had found my shoes and that I could pick them up at their office in downtown Reykjavik! I was so excited to get them back, that I decided that I should do something special to celebrate their return. The next weekend was the Reykjavik marathon, and they had a 10 k run that I thought looked like fun, so I signed up!
I arrived a bit early so that I could watch the start of the marathon and half-marathon, which started an hour before the 10k. It's always kind of interesting watching all the little pre-race warmup rituals that people do, and seeing the wide variety of people who are running these races – from the sinewy-looking elite runners, to the team of frumpy middle-aged men and women who were all running in matching sweatsuits. There were enough runners in the marathon and half-marathon to fill the street for about a block – compared to other marathons this is a really tiny one, but it still looked pretty packed. Everyone in the race gets a little timing chip that they attach to their shoe, so that when they pass over the start line, a computer marks your number and time, and then when you come back, it records your personal time as you pass the finish line. That way, it doesn't matter if you start at the end of the pack, and don't get through the gate until a minute or so after the front of the pack.
After an hour of waiting around and warming up, it was time for the 10k to start. I was hoping to finish the race in just under an hour – since I haven't been training seriously at all, I figured I would just go for a comfortable, 10-minute mile pace, and make sure that I'd be able to finish without burning out too early. The first kilometer or so was a complete mess – everyone was constantly passing and being passed as everyone tried to find their correct pace. As it started to become a bit less chaotic, we turned into the neighborhoods west of the University and it seemed like the whole neighborhood had showed up to bang pots, cheer, and blow whistles as we passed! At the halfway point, there was a man with a guitar and an amp and a guy on drums, just jamming for us as we went by. I also kept seeing runners waving to family members watching from the windows of their houses along the route – it seemed like everyone in Reykjavik was either running, or out watching and cheering as we went by. Up to this point the weather had been really nice, almost too hot, and not very windy; but, as we turned back along the peninsula towards downtown, the sky began to darken and the wind picked up. Then, around the 7th kilometer it started to rain pretty hard. I had to run with my eyes closed, only opening them a little to make sure that I wasn't about to step in a deep puddle. Luckily, it eased back to a light drizzle after about 10 minutes. The last kilometer or so was a bit painful because I kept speeding up, thinking that I was almost there, and then realizing that there was another block that I had forgotten about. But, before I knew it, I was speeding up in the final stretch and running under the arch of the finish line.
That afternoon was the Cultural Festival, which basically meant that downtown Reykjavik was turned into a sort of musical carnival. There were bands performing all over the place – everything from punk rock to blues, to some sort of upbeat, traditional sounding polka (?) music. And there were people dancing in cowboy hats, a line of drummers strolling down the street banging all sorts of odd-looking drums, some performance art involving people chasing paper-mache carrots suspended in front of them, and a group of people in matching t-shirts giving out free hugs. After wandering all over town and taking a free rowboat tour of the pond, we left, planning to return to town later to see the fireworks at midnight. I fell asleep early, though and missed them – it had been really a long day.
(Note: I just checked, and my final time was 59:35! So, I achieved my goal of finishing in under an hour)
I arrived a bit early so that I could watch the start of the marathon and half-marathon, which started an hour before the 10k. It's always kind of interesting watching all the little pre-race warmup rituals that people do, and seeing the wide variety of people who are running these races – from the sinewy-looking elite runners, to the team of frumpy middle-aged men and women who were all running in matching sweatsuits. There were enough runners in the marathon and half-marathon to fill the street for about a block – compared to other marathons this is a really tiny one, but it still looked pretty packed. Everyone in the race gets a little timing chip that they attach to their shoe, so that when they pass over the start line, a computer marks your number and time, and then when you come back, it records your personal time as you pass the finish line. That way, it doesn't matter if you start at the end of the pack, and don't get through the gate until a minute or so after the front of the pack.
After an hour of waiting around and warming up, it was time for the 10k to start. I was hoping to finish the race in just under an hour – since I haven't been training seriously at all, I figured I would just go for a comfortable, 10-minute mile pace, and make sure that I'd be able to finish without burning out too early. The first kilometer or so was a complete mess – everyone was constantly passing and being passed as everyone tried to find their correct pace. As it started to become a bit less chaotic, we turned into the neighborhoods west of the University and it seemed like the whole neighborhood had showed up to bang pots, cheer, and blow whistles as we passed! At the halfway point, there was a man with a guitar and an amp and a guy on drums, just jamming for us as we went by. I also kept seeing runners waving to family members watching from the windows of their houses along the route – it seemed like everyone in Reykjavik was either running, or out watching and cheering as we went by. Up to this point the weather had been really nice, almost too hot, and not very windy; but, as we turned back along the peninsula towards downtown, the sky began to darken and the wind picked up. Then, around the 7th kilometer it started to rain pretty hard. I had to run with my eyes closed, only opening them a little to make sure that I wasn't about to step in a deep puddle. Luckily, it eased back to a light drizzle after about 10 minutes. The last kilometer or so was a bit painful because I kept speeding up, thinking that I was almost there, and then realizing that there was another block that I had forgotten about. But, before I knew it, I was speeding up in the final stretch and running under the arch of the finish line.
That afternoon was the Cultural Festival, which basically meant that downtown Reykjavik was turned into a sort of musical carnival. There were bands performing all over the place – everything from punk rock to blues, to some sort of upbeat, traditional sounding polka (?) music. And there were people dancing in cowboy hats, a line of drummers strolling down the street banging all sorts of odd-looking drums, some performance art involving people chasing paper-mache carrots suspended in front of them, and a group of people in matching t-shirts giving out free hugs. After wandering all over town and taking a free rowboat tour of the pond, we left, planning to return to town later to see the fireworks at midnight. I fell asleep early, though and missed them – it had been really a long day.
(Note: I just checked, and my final time was 59:35! So, I achieved my goal of finishing in under an hour)
New apartment for the final days
Because classes begin soon at the university, we had to leave our university housing for this final week and move into an apartment in the neighborhoods near campus. The apartment that they found for us is absolutely lovely – it's spacious, well-lit, and has a microwave and a toaster! Although it doesn't have an internet connection and cell-phone reception keeps disappearing, it is so much nicer than my university apartment that I feel like I'm on vacation. We also have a TV that gets 3 channels: two Icelandic TV channels, and a televangelist channel; and, the second Icelandic channel becomes to static-y to watch after 7 PM or whenever it's windy outside. Last night, I watched a bit of the televangelist channel, and was informed that Kaiser Wilhelm built a gate to hell in Berlin and that the city is the source of all anti-Christian evil in the 20th century. And then they showed a few Christian music videos featuring a creepy-looking guy with a mullet in front of a strange, low-budget set that I think was supposed to be hell – and I think part of the lyrics were: “I'm the spiritual streaker”. Very, very puzzling...
Monday, August 10, 2009
New look, and a few new pictures
After seeing the lovely photo header on my friend Aimee's blog about baffling cafeteria food in Germany, I decided to make a few changes on my own page. I hope you like it! I'll probably be fiddling around with the color scheme for another couple of days, though...
There are some new photos up from our whale-watching/river-rafting tour last weekend. The boys were gone in Germany this week, so Willa and I decided to do a shorter trip. We settled on a "combo tour" to get the most out of our limited time and money - $125 each for an entire day of fun activities, plus full transportation, plus food is a pretty decent deal in Iceland (For comparison, it costs at least $150 a day just to rent a car).
We started our day at the harbor for the whale-watching tour. It was cold and rainy, just like it had been all week, and I wasn't really looking forward to standing still in a boat in the rain for three hours. It's strange - in Reykjavik, jogging along the coast, I don't think I've ever seen a puffin. But, as soon as you get out to the first island in the bay, they are absolutely everywhere! They fly in odd, frantic, looping patterns that makes them look a bit like a cross between a hummingbird and a penguin. Even when they weren't flying, they never seemed to stay still long enough for me to get a good picture - the ones in the ocean kept diving for fish every time I seemed to get my camera focused. But, it was fun to watch the frenzy - there must have been hundreds of them, scooting, and diving, and swooping around the island.
When we arrived out in the deeper waters, it became clear that there was some extremely rich food supply under the surface. Birds were diving and feeding constantly, and the seagulls weren't even fighting over food! Lo and behold, wherever the birds were feeding, we would see the back of a minke whale pop up somewhere nearby and then disappear a few seconds later. Minke whales are the smallest of the baleen whales, only 7-10 m long, and for the most part they seemed to ignore us and keep their distance. Of course, I don't blame them - we were in a large, noisy boat and there was a lot of eating to do. But, it's reassuring that even in a large boat we were able to see 3 or 4 individual whales without really trying very hard - it seems like the population here must be reasonably healthy and not too badly affected by the Icelandic whalers.
After circling around a bit over the feeding grounds and seeing a few glossy-black dorsal fins wink in and out of view, we headed back into the harbor, where it seemed to be getting even colder and rainier. We ate our lunch, and then boarded the van bound for river-rafting, along with a Japanese family and two British medical students who were also here for the summer, doing the same travel plan as us: work/study during the week, travel on the weekends. After a bit of confusion picking up a group of Dutch tourists (there were supposed to be 5 of them, but 9 showed up and they had to call out another van), we arrived in the pouring rain at the river-rafting base camp.
I'm always amazed how warm wetsuits are - once I was wearing my wetsuit, splash jacket, and life vest, it didn't really seem to matter that it was pouring rain outside. I imagine that must be what Aqua-man feels like. Because of all the rain, the river was a bit higher than usual, so the guides assured us that we would have even more fun than usual. Willa and I ended up in a raft with an odd assortment of people - I was stuck behind two kids who were 10 and 12, and kept forgetting to row. The 10-year old kept loudly and confidently declaring that he thought that the guide was trying to make us all fall in the river, and somehow came off as both a wimp and a smart-aleck. And when they did row, they didn't follow the rhythm of the person in front, which made it difficult for me to do anything without hitting their paddles. But, despite their lack of paddling skills, we made it through the rapids and had a lot of fun. It's not that different from those raft rides at amusement parks, except you get wetter, you actually have to paddle, and the scenery is MUCH prettier.
All in all, a fun day :-)
There are some new photos up from our whale-watching/river-rafting tour last weekend. The boys were gone in Germany this week, so Willa and I decided to do a shorter trip. We settled on a "combo tour" to get the most out of our limited time and money - $125 each for an entire day of fun activities, plus full transportation, plus food is a pretty decent deal in Iceland (For comparison, it costs at least $150 a day just to rent a car).
We started our day at the harbor for the whale-watching tour. It was cold and rainy, just like it had been all week, and I wasn't really looking forward to standing still in a boat in the rain for three hours. It's strange - in Reykjavik, jogging along the coast, I don't think I've ever seen a puffin. But, as soon as you get out to the first island in the bay, they are absolutely everywhere! They fly in odd, frantic, looping patterns that makes them look a bit like a cross between a hummingbird and a penguin. Even when they weren't flying, they never seemed to stay still long enough for me to get a good picture - the ones in the ocean kept diving for fish every time I seemed to get my camera focused. But, it was fun to watch the frenzy - there must have been hundreds of them, scooting, and diving, and swooping around the island.
When we arrived out in the deeper waters, it became clear that there was some extremely rich food supply under the surface. Birds were diving and feeding constantly, and the seagulls weren't even fighting over food! Lo and behold, wherever the birds were feeding, we would see the back of a minke whale pop up somewhere nearby and then disappear a few seconds later. Minke whales are the smallest of the baleen whales, only 7-10 m long, and for the most part they seemed to ignore us and keep their distance. Of course, I don't blame them - we were in a large, noisy boat and there was a lot of eating to do. But, it's reassuring that even in a large boat we were able to see 3 or 4 individual whales without really trying very hard - it seems like the population here must be reasonably healthy and not too badly affected by the Icelandic whalers.
After circling around a bit over the feeding grounds and seeing a few glossy-black dorsal fins wink in and out of view, we headed back into the harbor, where it seemed to be getting even colder and rainier. We ate our lunch, and then boarded the van bound for river-rafting, along with a Japanese family and two British medical students who were also here for the summer, doing the same travel plan as us: work/study during the week, travel on the weekends. After a bit of confusion picking up a group of Dutch tourists (there were supposed to be 5 of them, but 9 showed up and they had to call out another van), we arrived in the pouring rain at the river-rafting base camp.
I'm always amazed how warm wetsuits are - once I was wearing my wetsuit, splash jacket, and life vest, it didn't really seem to matter that it was pouring rain outside. I imagine that must be what Aqua-man feels like. Because of all the rain, the river was a bit higher than usual, so the guides assured us that we would have even more fun than usual. Willa and I ended up in a raft with an odd assortment of people - I was stuck behind two kids who were 10 and 12, and kept forgetting to row. The 10-year old kept loudly and confidently declaring that he thought that the guide was trying to make us all fall in the river, and somehow came off as both a wimp and a smart-aleck. And when they did row, they didn't follow the rhythm of the person in front, which made it difficult for me to do anything without hitting their paddles. But, despite their lack of paddling skills, we made it through the rapids and had a lot of fun. It's not that different from those raft rides at amusement parks, except you get wetter, you actually have to paddle, and the scenery is MUCH prettier.
All in all, a fun day :-)
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The Traditional Icelandic Bank Holiday
Nobody stays home during the first weekend in August. At least, that's what every Icelander keep telling me. And, that if I am under 30 and in Iceland during that weekend, I should go to the Westmann Islands and experience the national festival. But, somehow Willa and I didn't feel too enthused about spending 3 days in a tent on a tiny island off the coast of Iceland with every other 20-something in Iceland, so we booked a trip to north Iceland to see Akureyri (2nd largest city in Iceland, population 17,000) and Mývatn (roughly translates to "Midge Lake". Midges are small flies). Since it is mind-bogglingly expensive to rent a car in Iceland, especially if you are a true American like me who doesn't know how to drive a manual transmission, we flew from Reykjavik to Akureyri. It is quite possible that Air Iceland is the only airline in existence that does not begin checking in passengers until half an hour before the flight, and only begins boarding passengers 10 minutes before the flight. Of course, the planes only seat about 50-60 people, so none of this takes very long. In any case, the whole thing was no hassle at all, especially since we live a block away from the Reykjavik airport.
Akureyri is located at the base of an extremely long fjord, which makes flying into the city especially spectacular - in the approach to the airport, the plane flies down the fjord for a few minutes, level with the valley walls. Willa and I were so excited by the scenery that we decided that it would be worthwhile to walk the 30 minutes from the airport into town with our full packs instead of taking a taxi. We reached the Hotel Edda after a bit of confusion over the map in my travel guide, and settled into our room in the "shared accommodation" section of the hotel, which is essentially a nice dormitory, with shared bathrooms at the end of each hall. We explored the city a bit on the way to dinner (it was about 9PM by this point), but didn't have time to see much. It's definitely a place I would have liked to spend a bit more time exploring, but we were on a tight schedule.
The following morning, we caught the bus for Mývatn, despite accidentally heading to the bus company's garage rather than the actual station. We arrived at the lake around 10 am after a fairly uneventful bus ride, set up our tent in the nice, grassy campground in Reykjahlíð, and then rented a bikes so that we could explore the area. We decided to take the road up the Krafla geothermal area, since it seemed interesting, and I vaguely remembered hearing something about it in a lecture at the summer school. The weather was fantastic - not terribly windy, puffy clouds and bright sunshine - and I took tons of pictures. Although, quite a bit of my picture taking was just a way to disguise the fact that I needed a few breaks while climbing up some of the hills, even on the mountain bike in an embarassingly low gear. My pictures probably do the best job of showing the spectacular scenery and the bleak bizarreness of the Leirhnúkur hot springs and geothermal area, so I'm not really going to bother to explain it. But, in spite of having seen hot springs on nearly every single one of my outings in Iceland, these were by far the weirdest and most alien-looking. In fact, I'm really surprised that they don't film sci-fi movies out there.
After returning to camp and having dinner, we decided to wander a bit around the lake and were rewarded with a rain shower, spectacular clouds and a rainbow. Again, words are probably useless to describe how perfect the lighting was and how magical the whole scene looked, so I'd recommend taking a look at my pictures.
Around dawn (it actually gets properly dark at night now!) it began to rain. For some reason, the rain seemed to bring out all of the birds, who decided that it would be a brilliant idea to waddle around the campground squawking and quacking. Well, that's what it sounded like from inside the tent, anyway. When we finally woke up that morning at 9:30 or so, after being having our sleep disrupted by birds and the loud group of French tourists in the next tent, we decided to take a hike to the Hverfjall tephra crater to pass the time before the bus arrived at 3:30. Even though it drizzled the whole time and we had to take an unofficial shortcut off the crater to save time, it was worth seeing, and an interesting way to spend the morning.
...and that's how I spent my tradtional Icelandic bank holiday weekend!
Interestingly, the Icelandic banks spent the weekend seeking injunctions against the local news agencies to keep them from broadcasting news about a leaked document revealing the extent of insider trading going on last year. I heard about it from this Slashdot story
Akureyri is located at the base of an extremely long fjord, which makes flying into the city especially spectacular - in the approach to the airport, the plane flies down the fjord for a few minutes, level with the valley walls. Willa and I were so excited by the scenery that we decided that it would be worthwhile to walk the 30 minutes from the airport into town with our full packs instead of taking a taxi. We reached the Hotel Edda after a bit of confusion over the map in my travel guide, and settled into our room in the "shared accommodation" section of the hotel, which is essentially a nice dormitory, with shared bathrooms at the end of each hall. We explored the city a bit on the way to dinner (it was about 9PM by this point), but didn't have time to see much. It's definitely a place I would have liked to spend a bit more time exploring, but we were on a tight schedule.
The following morning, we caught the bus for Mývatn, despite accidentally heading to the bus company's garage rather than the actual station. We arrived at the lake around 10 am after a fairly uneventful bus ride, set up our tent in the nice, grassy campground in Reykjahlíð, and then rented a bikes so that we could explore the area. We decided to take the road up the Krafla geothermal area, since it seemed interesting, and I vaguely remembered hearing something about it in a lecture at the summer school. The weather was fantastic - not terribly windy, puffy clouds and bright sunshine - and I took tons of pictures. Although, quite a bit of my picture taking was just a way to disguise the fact that I needed a few breaks while climbing up some of the hills, even on the mountain bike in an embarassingly low gear. My pictures probably do the best job of showing the spectacular scenery and the bleak bizarreness of the Leirhnúkur hot springs and geothermal area, so I'm not really going to bother to explain it. But, in spite of having seen hot springs on nearly every single one of my outings in Iceland, these were by far the weirdest and most alien-looking. In fact, I'm really surprised that they don't film sci-fi movies out there.
After returning to camp and having dinner, we decided to wander a bit around the lake and were rewarded with a rain shower, spectacular clouds and a rainbow. Again, words are probably useless to describe how perfect the lighting was and how magical the whole scene looked, so I'd recommend taking a look at my pictures.
Around dawn (it actually gets properly dark at night now!) it began to rain. For some reason, the rain seemed to bring out all of the birds, who decided that it would be a brilliant idea to waddle around the campground squawking and quacking. Well, that's what it sounded like from inside the tent, anyway. When we finally woke up that morning at 9:30 or so, after being having our sleep disrupted by birds and the loud group of French tourists in the next tent, we decided to take a hike to the Hverfjall tephra crater to pass the time before the bus arrived at 3:30. Even though it drizzled the whole time and we had to take an unofficial shortcut off the crater to save time, it was worth seeing, and an interesting way to spend the morning.
...and that's how I spent my tradtional Icelandic bank holiday weekend!
Interestingly, the Icelandic banks spent the weekend seeking injunctions against the local news agencies to keep them from broadcasting news about a leaked document revealing the extent of insider trading going on last year. I heard about it from this Slashdot story
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Birds
Although I had a few things to do, yesterday was such a nice day that Björn stopped by my desk at 2 PM and told me on his way out of the office that I should go outside and enjoy the weather. So, I hopped on a bus, hoping to get to the trailhead to hike to the top of Esja, the mountain across the bay from Reykjavik. Unfortunately, I must have taken the wrong bus and ended up getting off in the farming suburb of Mosfellsbaer, a few km south of Esja. I decided to make the best of it, and hiked along some dirt roads through some beautiful farmland.
The top of the ridge had a view of the bay and Reykjavik, the hilly farmland, and of Esja, just a few km to the north. I wandered around on the ridge for a while, and watched the seagulls hovering like kites in the wind. After a few minutes, though, I began to get the uneasy feeling that two of the seagulls were actually following me. The whole time I had gotten the distinct sense that this ridge was owned by the birds, but I wasn't sure why. Then, as I paused to take in the view on another part of the ridge, I realized that the seagulls were making threatening warning calls at me. Shortly after that, they began swooping over my head, several times forcing me to duck to avoid being hit! I started thinking of Alfred Hitchcock's movie The Birds and I decided that I could probably protect myself from the two of them with a rock, but I wasn't sure what would happen if more seagulls showed up.
I scurried off the top of the ridge into a grassy plain a little lower down, keeping an eye on the pair of squawking, hovering seagulls overhead. In the grassy plain, I saw a pair of curve-billed shorebirds that were moving in a strange pattern. One would land somewhere and the other would land somewhere vaguely nearby, and they would then locate each other slowly using single chirps. Once they were in roughly the same place, one would take off, and the other would take off shortly after, and they would locate each other again with the single chirps. After watching them for a while, I noticed that the seagulls had stopped following me now that I was off the ridge, so I kept wandering and emerged again on another part of the ridge. As soon as I poked my head over the top, I saw those same two seagulls sitting on an outcrop a hundred meters away. Seconds later, they saw me and flew over to hover over me and make threatening calls, while I scurried off the ridge once again. On my way back down to the road, I spooked a ptarmigan, which landed close enough for me to take its picture, while it made strange grunting sounds at me, like a pig.
I think I must have stumbled into a nesting area for all of these birds. I don't think I've ever felt anything quite like it - it was so clear as soon as I left the farm-road that I was entering territory that no human owned. For that hour or so, I had the disturbing sensation that I had accidentally discovered a real-life incarnation of The Birds.
The top of the ridge had a view of the bay and Reykjavik, the hilly farmland, and of Esja, just a few km to the north. I wandered around on the ridge for a while, and watched the seagulls hovering like kites in the wind. After a few minutes, though, I began to get the uneasy feeling that two of the seagulls were actually following me. The whole time I had gotten the distinct sense that this ridge was owned by the birds, but I wasn't sure why. Then, as I paused to take in the view on another part of the ridge, I realized that the seagulls were making threatening warning calls at me. Shortly after that, they began swooping over my head, several times forcing me to duck to avoid being hit! I started thinking of Alfred Hitchcock's movie The Birds and I decided that I could probably protect myself from the two of them with a rock, but I wasn't sure what would happen if more seagulls showed up.
I scurried off the top of the ridge into a grassy plain a little lower down, keeping an eye on the pair of squawking, hovering seagulls overhead. In the grassy plain, I saw a pair of curve-billed shorebirds that were moving in a strange pattern. One would land somewhere and the other would land somewhere vaguely nearby, and they would then locate each other slowly using single chirps. Once they were in roughly the same place, one would take off, and the other would take off shortly after, and they would locate each other again with the single chirps. After watching them for a while, I noticed that the seagulls had stopped following me now that I was off the ridge, so I kept wandering and emerged again on another part of the ridge. As soon as I poked my head over the top, I saw those same two seagulls sitting on an outcrop a hundred meters away. Seconds later, they saw me and flew over to hover over me and make threatening calls, while I scurried off the ridge once again. On my way back down to the road, I spooked a ptarmigan, which landed close enough for me to take its picture, while it made strange grunting sounds at me, like a pig.
I think I must have stumbled into a nesting area for all of these birds. I don't think I've ever felt anything quite like it - it was so clear as soon as I left the farm-road that I was entering territory that no human owned. For that hour or so, I had the disturbing sensation that I had accidentally discovered a real-life incarnation of The Birds.
Ice
In order to make sure that we really properly enjoy Iceland, the university has been kind enough to send us on a couple of weekend trips, free of charge. They first sent us on the obligatory Golden Circle Tour (Geysir, Gulfoss, and Thingvellir), and last weekend we were sent into the highlands for a glacier tour on Hofsjökull.
The Icelandic highlands are a barren and spectacular place. All the paved roads in Iceland lead around the coast - the main road through the highlands in the middle of the country (the Kjölur route) is a well-maintained dirt road that is just bumpy and treacherous enough to discourage any reasonable person from driving on it with a small sedan. But, by making it so difficult for tourists to visit (they either have to take a bus, or spend outrageous amounts of money renting a 4x4), they have managed to keep the place feeling vast and nearly deserted. Our bus arrived in Hveravellir by lunchtime, and we found our guide for the glacier tour - a wiry, suntanned Icelander named Ingvar Þorisson, who apparently used to make documentaries (he mentioned this one as one he particularly enjoyed), and now is living in the highlands running tours full-time. Luckily for us, sometime in his past life as a filmmaker, he worked at a TV station with Björg (who is the administrator overseeing our program at the university), which how we ended up on this fantastic trip.
After unloading our baggage in the hut, we climbed into the enormous jeep, and headed off towards Hofsjökull. Since I don't think I've properly explained Icelandic SUV's yet, here's a picture (courtesy of Willa) that will show what I mean by "enormous jeep". These things are all everywhere in Iceland - they modify them to fit these monstrous tires that can drive over practically anything, including large rocks, snow, and rivers. At least they actually have a good reason for these things, unlike those ludicrous trucks that people drive to the supermarket in the US. Driving over the Kjölur in the monster truck felt almost as smooth as driving on a highway - much better than the constant bumping and shaking in the bus.
Apparently, before this century Icelanders rarely ventured onto the glaciers except to retrieve lost sheep (although I have no idea what would compel a sheep to wander on to a glacier in the first place), so it is now somewhat traditional to walk on glaciers with a tall wooden pole, rather like a shepherd's staff. These poles can also be used to test the depth of snow patches to see if they are concealing a deep crevasse - luckily most of the surface snow was gone, so it was completely obvious where the crevasses lay. Walking in crampons is quite convenient - because the spikes stick easily into the ice, your footing is always stable, and you can practically walk up a vertical surface by planting your spikes into it. I wish there was some equivalent footwear for normal ground...
We wandered somewhat aimlessly, pausing to look at the strange blue pools and canyons in the ice along the way. It was really relaxing, walking along on the ice with nothing but the sound of water gurgling into the glacier, appearing, and disappearing through mysterious channels in the ice. Ingvar told us about the mountains in the area, and pointed out the small, lumpy ridge (for the geologically-minded, the terminal moraine) that had marked the edge of the glacier in 1996 - it was probably almost half a kilometer from where it is today. There's something calming, yet eerie about glaciers - perhaps it's the vague feeling that you are crawling over some benign, icy giant. I was a bit disappointed when we had to turn back towards the truck - I only wish it was easier to return there.
When we arrived back at the hut in Hveravellir, we ate our simple dinners (for me, ramen and a cheese sandwich), and tried to pass the time while the hot springs pool was still crowded. But after a few uneventful card games, we gave up and headed into the blue pool. On one end of the pool was a pipe carrying the cold water, and on the other side was an intermittent and unpredictable stream carrying the scalding hot water. Everyone was crowded near the cold water pipe, but we quickly realized that you could sit further out towards the hot water stream, as long as you were willing to paddle constantly and mix the water to a tolerable temperature. Although I spent the entire time paddling to keep from getting scalded by the hot water, it was quite pleasant to sit and watch the sun set and the clouds turn pink (at 11 pm-ish).
The Icelandic highlands are a barren and spectacular place. All the paved roads in Iceland lead around the coast - the main road through the highlands in the middle of the country (the Kjölur route) is a well-maintained dirt road that is just bumpy and treacherous enough to discourage any reasonable person from driving on it with a small sedan. But, by making it so difficult for tourists to visit (they either have to take a bus, or spend outrageous amounts of money renting a 4x4), they have managed to keep the place feeling vast and nearly deserted. Our bus arrived in Hveravellir by lunchtime, and we found our guide for the glacier tour - a wiry, suntanned Icelander named Ingvar Þorisson, who apparently used to make documentaries (he mentioned this one as one he particularly enjoyed), and now is living in the highlands running tours full-time. Luckily for us, sometime in his past life as a filmmaker, he worked at a TV station with Björg (who is the administrator overseeing our program at the university), which how we ended up on this fantastic trip.
After unloading our baggage in the hut, we climbed into the enormous jeep, and headed off towards Hofsjökull. Since I don't think I've properly explained Icelandic SUV's yet, here's a picture (courtesy of Willa) that will show what I mean by "enormous jeep". These things are all everywhere in Iceland - they modify them to fit these monstrous tires that can drive over practically anything, including large rocks, snow, and rivers. At least they actually have a good reason for these things, unlike those ludicrous trucks that people drive to the supermarket in the US. Driving over the Kjölur in the monster truck felt almost as smooth as driving on a highway - much better than the constant bumping and shaking in the bus.
Apparently, before this century Icelanders rarely ventured onto the glaciers except to retrieve lost sheep (although I have no idea what would compel a sheep to wander on to a glacier in the first place), so it is now somewhat traditional to walk on glaciers with a tall wooden pole, rather like a shepherd's staff. These poles can also be used to test the depth of snow patches to see if they are concealing a deep crevasse - luckily most of the surface snow was gone, so it was completely obvious where the crevasses lay. Walking in crampons is quite convenient - because the spikes stick easily into the ice, your footing is always stable, and you can practically walk up a vertical surface by planting your spikes into it. I wish there was some equivalent footwear for normal ground...
We wandered somewhat aimlessly, pausing to look at the strange blue pools and canyons in the ice along the way. It was really relaxing, walking along on the ice with nothing but the sound of water gurgling into the glacier, appearing, and disappearing through mysterious channels in the ice. Ingvar told us about the mountains in the area, and pointed out the small, lumpy ridge (for the geologically-minded, the terminal moraine) that had marked the edge of the glacier in 1996 - it was probably almost half a kilometer from where it is today. There's something calming, yet eerie about glaciers - perhaps it's the vague feeling that you are crawling over some benign, icy giant. I was a bit disappointed when we had to turn back towards the truck - I only wish it was easier to return there.
When we arrived back at the hut in Hveravellir, we ate our simple dinners (for me, ramen and a cheese sandwich), and tried to pass the time while the hot springs pool was still crowded. But after a few uneventful card games, we gave up and headed into the blue pool. On one end of the pool was a pipe carrying the cold water, and on the other side was an intermittent and unpredictable stream carrying the scalding hot water. Everyone was crowded near the cold water pipe, but we quickly realized that you could sit further out towards the hot water stream, as long as you were willing to paddle constantly and mix the water to a tolerable temperature. Although I spent the entire time paddling to keep from getting scalded by the hot water, it was quite pleasant to sit and watch the sun set and the clouds turn pink (at 11 pm-ish).
Monday, July 13, 2009
Album Maps
I realized that all the Icelandic names are probably pretty confusing (I can't remember most of them, and I've been here over a month!) so I decided to make an album map for each of my Picasa Albums. I placed the images that most clearly showed each location that I went to (or looked at) and I tried to place the marks at the point where the picture was aimed, not where it was taken from, although there are a few exceptions. I also had to do a bit of guesswork because google maps is somewhat inconsistent in its search results for Icelandic natural landmarks, and even the Icelandic map website (www.ja.is) doesn't seem to know where I was half of the time. But, this way, you can get a better idea of where I was.
So, to see the maps, just click on the album in Picasa, and on the right-hand side will be a map labeled "Photo Locations". If you want to "tour" the map, click on the "View Map" link. A larger map will pop up, and if you click on the tiny pictures on the map, you can scroll through them in a slideshow while the map moves in the background to the place that the picture represents.
So, to see the maps, just click on the album in Picasa, and on the right-hand side will be a map labeled "Photo Locations". If you want to "tour" the map, click on the "View Map" link. A larger map will pop up, and if you click on the tiny pictures on the map, you can scroll through them in a slideshow while the map moves in the background to the place that the picture represents.
Busy, Busy, Busy...
I spent last week at the Volcano-Ice Interaction Summer school, where we spent 4 of the 9 days listening to lectures all day on the field of volcano-glacier interaction, and drinking copious amounts of coffee to stay awake (the lectures were quite interesting, but it's hard to listen to 5-6 lectures per day). On the other days, we got to go out into the field and look at all sorts of interesting things related to our topic - as it turns out, practically everything that is more than 10 m tall in Iceland has something to do with a volcano erupting under a glacier. I don't want to explain all of the geology and I don't think anyone would care anyway, so I'll just tell you to look at my Picasa albums: "Field Trip #1", "Field Trip #2", "The Golden Circle", and "Landmannalaugar". As you can see, we went to some pretty spectacular places!
A quick explanation on the "Golden Circle (x 1.5)" album: On the third field day, we had intended to do a long hike and stop to look at a lot of geology along the way. But, apparently the bridge is only put out for the summer, and it had not been put up yet. This was especially odd, considering that our group leaders had called ahead of time and had been assured that the bridge was already in place - I really can't see what those people would have had to gain by lying to us about the bridge...
In any case, we had to change our plans so that we only did geology stops at the beginning and the end of the hike, where we could access the trail, and then stopped at Geysir and Gulfoss on the way back to the hotel. As it turns out, Geysir and Gulfoss are two stops on the "Golden Circle Tour" that the University had booked for us (Me, Willa, Paul, and Adam, who are the summer exchange students). So, I saw it again this weekend, which is why that album is called "Golden Circle Tour (x 1.5)", because I basically did the tour 1.5 times.
A quick explanation on the "Golden Circle (x 1.5)" album: On the third field day, we had intended to do a long hike and stop to look at a lot of geology along the way. But, apparently the bridge is only put out for the summer, and it had not been put up yet. This was especially odd, considering that our group leaders had called ahead of time and had been assured that the bridge was already in place - I really can't see what those people would have had to gain by lying to us about the bridge...
In any case, we had to change our plans so that we only did geology stops at the beginning and the end of the hike, where we could access the trail, and then stopped at Geysir and Gulfoss on the way back to the hotel. As it turns out, Geysir and Gulfoss are two stops on the "Golden Circle Tour" that the University had booked for us (Me, Willa, Paul, and Adam, who are the summer exchange students). So, I saw it again this weekend, which is why that album is called "Golden Circle Tour (x 1.5)", because I basically did the tour 1.5 times.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Finally! Reliable internet...
Now that I am at the volcano-ice interaction summer school in Laugarvatn, I can access the internet with ease after hours. For reasons unknown, the university requires that every computer's MAC address is regeistered with their IT department. Normally, students have a student account, where they can log in and register their computers; I am neither staff nor student, so I cannot have an account, and so my computer must be registered separately through some mysterious process. This took until last Friday. Then, we discover that it is "expensive" to leave the ethernet ports active when nobody is using them - on Monday, just before I left for Laugarvatn, they activated the ethernet port in the wall of my apartment, hurrah! So, I should be posting things more often from now on...
Quick version of the hjartasalt story: I assumed this meant salt, bought a container of it, used it, realized that it wasn't salt and was some sort nauseating chemical, then spent the next 15 minutes trying to figure out what it was, whether it was poisonous, and whether or not I had ruined my food with it. Turns out, "hjartasalt" (translates roughly to "heart salt"?) is ammonium bicarbonate, which they use in nordic countries in the same way that we use baking soda. After this, I decided to make a real effort to learn the names of foods in Icelandic - I even have flashcards!
But, aside from the internet troubles and my being more or less illiterate in Icelandic, things here are great - the weather has remained above 10 C, I've been visiting swimming pools, and I even got to watch the US beat Spain in the Confedrations Cup (and then blow a 2-0 lead against Brazil...) There's a nice little geothermal swimming pool a few blocks from the university with a few lanes, and some "hot pots", which I've been to a few times now.
But, the really interesting one is the Blue Lagoon. As my tour book says: "it is undoubtedly an enormous tourist trap. But, my, what a lovely place to be trapped in!" The runoff from the geothermal plant is extremely silica-rich; this silica precipitated, forming a naturally enclosed pool of sorts; a particular type of blue-green algae gives the water its characteristic tint. People claim that the water is extremely good for your skin - around the pool they have little buckets of the silica-algae goo that you can rub on your face (the picture of me shows this stuff), and there's a good reason that they keep these convenient little buckets of the stuff around - if you try to scoop it off the bottom, you mostly get a handful of hair from the thousands of tourists who have visited...eww...but it was definitely worth the visit - its a very relaxing, yet surreal place.
Quick version of the hjartasalt story: I assumed this meant salt, bought a container of it, used it, realized that it wasn't salt and was some sort nauseating chemical, then spent the next 15 minutes trying to figure out what it was, whether it was poisonous, and whether or not I had ruined my food with it. Turns out, "hjartasalt" (translates roughly to "heart salt"?) is ammonium bicarbonate, which they use in nordic countries in the same way that we use baking soda. After this, I decided to make a real effort to learn the names of foods in Icelandic - I even have flashcards!
But, aside from the internet troubles and my being more or less illiterate in Icelandic, things here are great - the weather has remained above 10 C, I've been visiting swimming pools, and I even got to watch the US beat Spain in the Confedrations Cup (and then blow a 2-0 lead against Brazil...) There's a nice little geothermal swimming pool a few blocks from the university with a few lanes, and some "hot pots", which I've been to a few times now.
But, the really interesting one is the Blue Lagoon. As my tour book says: "it is undoubtedly an enormous tourist trap. But, my, what a lovely place to be trapped in!" The runoff from the geothermal plant is extremely silica-rich; this silica precipitated, forming a naturally enclosed pool of sorts; a particular type of blue-green algae gives the water its characteristic tint. People claim that the water is extremely good for your skin - around the pool they have little buckets of the silica-algae goo that you can rub on your face (the picture of me shows this stuff), and there's a good reason that they keep these convenient little buckets of the stuff around - if you try to scoop it off the bottom, you mostly get a handful of hair from the thousands of tourists who have visited...eww...but it was definitely worth the visit - its a very relaxing, yet surreal place.
Monday, June 22, 2009
New Photos
I put up my photos of the first few days, now that I finally have an internet connection. I'll post something soon-ish, possibly this evening after dinner.
To follow: Icelandic internet bureaucracy, a geothermal swimming pool, and the mystery of hjartasalt.
To follow: Icelandic internet bureaucracy, a geothermal swimming pool, and the mystery of hjartasalt.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Day 1
The first thing I noticed when we were flying into Keflavik Airport was the village on the coast. It looked exactly like the introduction in Father Ted, where they fly over the island and there is nothing but green grass, little stone walls, and a few isolated houses. I decided that this was a good omen.
The Keflavik airport is unmistakably Scandinavian - large glass windows, wood paneling, clean, uncluttered decor - and was completely deserted except for the people arriving from my flight. After passing through customs, and nearly picking up someone else's bag that looked identical to mine, I was greeted by a pink-faced, middle-aged man with a sign - he helped me load my baggage into the car and we sped off, through the fields of lupine, towards Reykjavik. He explained some of the landmarks and sites as we traveled along, telling me that the whole Reykjanes peninsula was 7 million, 4 thousand, or 100 thousand years old, depending on which time he told me. He was very nice, though - I wish I could remember what his name was.
When we arrived at the student housing, I opened the door of the apartment assigned to me and noticed that there was a pair of shoes next to the door, and food in the kitchen. Someone was clearly living here. But, luckily, the man had the keys for all four of us, so we tried another apartment. Also occupied. Clearly, people here are pretty deep sleepers if they didn't hear someone unlock the door, poke about inside, have a quick discussion, and leave. All through this, a very fat cat had been following me and rubbing against my legs so that I would nearly trip over it every time I tried to move. Finally, we unlocked an apartment that was clearly unoccupied, and I moved my stuff inside, moved the cat out, and thanked the man for his help.
It was at this point that I noticed that the apartment was bare. No linens on the bed, no pillow, no towel, no pots and pans, only some assorted silverware and dishes. At least there was a roll of toilet paper still on the dispenser. I spent a few minutes cursing myself for not bringing the sleeping bag, and then set about making a list of things that I would need, and, feeling a bit overwhelmed and sweaty, decided to take a shower. The hot water smelled vaguely of sulfur, not surprising, as they get it from geothermal springs. Luckily, I had my backpacking towel (aka cheap automotive towel) and my hair dryer, so the shower wasn't too inconvenient. I realized that at 8am on a holiday, I'd be unlikely to find any open stores, so I took a nap, hoping to wake up in a few hours when the shops might be open.
I woke up at 2:30 PM, with the sun shining brightly through the window. The sky had cleared and it was beatiful outside. I packed up my backpack and headed out. For Independence day, every man, woman and child must have descended on the town center. There were children's carnival rides, cotton candy booths, and what looked like a little house-building contest. It took ages for me to make it past the lake to the city center, and at the northern end was a concert pavillion with a singing comedian, or a childrens show on stage, I couldn't tell which. And now, I find myself in a little cafe, enjoying a sandwich, a cappucino, and free wireless internet. Later, I'll go out again and see the carnival, and I'll probably post pictures tomorrow after I get an ethernet cable (the apartment has no wireless, argh!).
The Keflavik airport is unmistakably Scandinavian - large glass windows, wood paneling, clean, uncluttered decor - and was completely deserted except for the people arriving from my flight. After passing through customs, and nearly picking up someone else's bag that looked identical to mine, I was greeted by a pink-faced, middle-aged man with a sign - he helped me load my baggage into the car and we sped off, through the fields of lupine, towards Reykjavik. He explained some of the landmarks and sites as we traveled along, telling me that the whole Reykjanes peninsula was 7 million, 4 thousand, or 100 thousand years old, depending on which time he told me. He was very nice, though - I wish I could remember what his name was.
When we arrived at the student housing, I opened the door of the apartment assigned to me and noticed that there was a pair of shoes next to the door, and food in the kitchen. Someone was clearly living here. But, luckily, the man had the keys for all four of us, so we tried another apartment. Also occupied. Clearly, people here are pretty deep sleepers if they didn't hear someone unlock the door, poke about inside, have a quick discussion, and leave. All through this, a very fat cat had been following me and rubbing against my legs so that I would nearly trip over it every time I tried to move. Finally, we unlocked an apartment that was clearly unoccupied, and I moved my stuff inside, moved the cat out, and thanked the man for his help.
It was at this point that I noticed that the apartment was bare. No linens on the bed, no pillow, no towel, no pots and pans, only some assorted silverware and dishes. At least there was a roll of toilet paper still on the dispenser. I spent a few minutes cursing myself for not bringing the sleeping bag, and then set about making a list of things that I would need, and, feeling a bit overwhelmed and sweaty, decided to take a shower. The hot water smelled vaguely of sulfur, not surprising, as they get it from geothermal springs. Luckily, I had my backpacking towel (aka cheap automotive towel) and my hair dryer, so the shower wasn't too inconvenient. I realized that at 8am on a holiday, I'd be unlikely to find any open stores, so I took a nap, hoping to wake up in a few hours when the shops might be open.
I woke up at 2:30 PM, with the sun shining brightly through the window. The sky had cleared and it was beatiful outside. I packed up my backpack and headed out. For Independence day, every man, woman and child must have descended on the town center. There were children's carnival rides, cotton candy booths, and what looked like a little house-building contest. It took ages for me to make it past the lake to the city center, and at the northern end was a concert pavillion with a singing comedian, or a childrens show on stage, I couldn't tell which. And now, I find myself in a little cafe, enjoying a sandwich, a cappucino, and free wireless internet. Later, I'll go out again and see the carnival, and I'll probably post pictures tomorrow after I get an ethernet cable (the apartment has no wireless, argh!).
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The Rest of the Trip
Most of the time after we left Arequipa, I didn't have any internet, so I just added all the pictures from the remainder of the trip. Below are some short descriptions of each of the albums, just to provide some context for the pictures.
Arequipa-Juliaca: We left Arequipa at 7am, and spent the entire day on the road to Juliaca stopping every 6 km to take measurements, which gave us a lot of opportunities to take pictures along the way. The road out of Arequipa first took us behind El Misti and Chachani, up to the high plateau between Arequipa and Juliaca. We continued along the platueu for most of the day, and then dropped down through some more rugged areas on the way to Juliaca. We arrived in Juliaca after sunset, during what must have been their rush hour - the streets were swarming with bicycle taxis and people, and we ended up circling a few times before we managed to find our hotel. Juliaca is not a tourist town, and it was a bit overwhelming to arrive there in the dark - the streets are narrow, crowded, unlabeled, and unpaved on the margins, and the buildings look a bit dilapidated - I think it was the only place on the trip where I really felt nervous.
Puno-Silluani: At Igor's insistence, we left early for Lake Titicaca so that we could arrive before most of the other tourists. On the lake are the floating islands - giant rafts made of 2-meter thick reed mats, where the Uros people have lived for centuries. These days, the Uros survive by fishing and allowing tourists to visit their islands. Absolutely everything on the islands is made of reeds (called totora), including the houses and traditional boats, although many homes have been modernized by the addition of solar panels for electricity, and most of the fishermen use modern boats. It was definitely a unique experience to visit the islands. Later, we visited the Inca burial site at Silluani, which was not particularly crowded and gave me a nice opportunity to sit and enjoy the landscape.
Juliaca-Cusco: This was mostly a driving day, as we traveled from Juliaca to Cusco, past some pretty spectacular mountain scenery and through ancient Inca territory. It seemed as if we were driving back a few centuries as we passed tiny adobe farmhouses and fields and herds of sheep and alpacas. As we approached Cusco, we began to see terraces in the hillsides where the Incas used to raise crops.
Machu Picchu: I was expecting Machu Picchu to be an obnoxious tourist trap, and was actually considering skipping it and trying to go to the Sacred Valley instead. But, I'm really glad that I didn't - every part of the trip was worth it. The train from Cusco to Machu Picchu travels through a narrow valley bounded by 20,000 foot peaks, and winds along the track of a large river. Most of the time, I would have had to put my face directly against the glass just to see the sky because the walls of the canyon were so steep. None of the pictures that I have seen or that I took can really convey the experience of Machu Picchu - it looks as if someone took Yosemite, placed it in a lush jungle, and then built a city on top. It's mind-boggling to think that people used to live and farm up there, since the whole city is bounded by near-vertical cliff faces. Plus, any slope that is less than vertical is covered in dense tropical growth, which makes it seem completely impassible. It's no wonder that Machu Picchu is one of the few sites that the Spaniards never managed to find.
Arequipa-Juliaca: We left Arequipa at 7am, and spent the entire day on the road to Juliaca stopping every 6 km to take measurements, which gave us a lot of opportunities to take pictures along the way. The road out of Arequipa first took us behind El Misti and Chachani, up to the high plateau between Arequipa and Juliaca. We continued along the platueu for most of the day, and then dropped down through some more rugged areas on the way to Juliaca. We arrived in Juliaca after sunset, during what must have been their rush hour - the streets were swarming with bicycle taxis and people, and we ended up circling a few times before we managed to find our hotel. Juliaca is not a tourist town, and it was a bit overwhelming to arrive there in the dark - the streets are narrow, crowded, unlabeled, and unpaved on the margins, and the buildings look a bit dilapidated - I think it was the only place on the trip where I really felt nervous.
Puno-Silluani: At Igor's insistence, we left early for Lake Titicaca so that we could arrive before most of the other tourists. On the lake are the floating islands - giant rafts made of 2-meter thick reed mats, where the Uros people have lived for centuries. These days, the Uros survive by fishing and allowing tourists to visit their islands. Absolutely everything on the islands is made of reeds (called totora), including the houses and traditional boats, although many homes have been modernized by the addition of solar panels for electricity, and most of the fishermen use modern boats. It was definitely a unique experience to visit the islands. Later, we visited the Inca burial site at Silluani, which was not particularly crowded and gave me a nice opportunity to sit and enjoy the landscape.
Juliaca-Cusco: This was mostly a driving day, as we traveled from Juliaca to Cusco, past some pretty spectacular mountain scenery and through ancient Inca territory. It seemed as if we were driving back a few centuries as we passed tiny adobe farmhouses and fields and herds of sheep and alpacas. As we approached Cusco, we began to see terraces in the hillsides where the Incas used to raise crops.
Machu Picchu: I was expecting Machu Picchu to be an obnoxious tourist trap, and was actually considering skipping it and trying to go to the Sacred Valley instead. But, I'm really glad that I didn't - every part of the trip was worth it. The train from Cusco to Machu Picchu travels through a narrow valley bounded by 20,000 foot peaks, and winds along the track of a large river. Most of the time, I would have had to put my face directly against the glass just to see the sky because the walls of the canyon were so steep. None of the pictures that I have seen or that I took can really convey the experience of Machu Picchu - it looks as if someone took Yosemite, placed it in a lush jungle, and then built a city on top. It's mind-boggling to think that people used to live and farm up there, since the whole city is bounded by near-vertical cliff faces. Plus, any slope that is less than vertical is covered in dense tropical growth, which makes it seem completely impassible. It's no wonder that Machu Picchu is one of the few sites that the Spaniards never managed to find.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Atacama Desert
Today we traveled across the Atacama desert, taking gravity and magnetics measurements every 5 km or so. Which means that by the end of the day, we were experts at getting 9 people out of the van, assembling and setting up the instruments, taking readings, and then packing it all up again a few minutes later. Busy, busy, busy....
The Atacama desert looks remarkably like Mars - nothing grows there, and the sand and the rocks are tinted red by oxidation. There are also these odd, isolated, crescent-shaped dunes that travel across the desert and look completely out of place - crescents of white sand on top of the red gravel of the desert floor. I'll probably put up the few pictures I took tomorrow with the more spectacular ones I hope to take on the way to Juliaca and Lake Titicaca.
The Atacama desert looks remarkably like Mars - nothing grows there, and the sand and the rocks are tinted red by oxidation. There are also these odd, isolated, crescent-shaped dunes that travel across the desert and look completely out of place - crescents of white sand on top of the red gravel of the desert floor. I'll probably put up the few pictures I took tomorrow with the more spectacular ones I hope to take on the way to Juliaca and Lake Titicaca.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Lima and Arequipa
I'm sitting in the apartment in Arequipa, looking out the window at an enormous, cloud-shrouded volcano called El Misti. It's 19,101 ft tall, and looks exactly like the cartoon picture of an intimidating mountain - a steep-sided triangle with the top poking out of a layer of clouds. Needless to say, I like this place.
We arrived in Lima yesterday morning around noon, and crammed into some taxis to drop off our baggage at a house belonging to one of the Peruvian collaborators on the seismic network. Driving in Peru is a bit of an experience - there are very few traffic signs and everyone seems to claim right of way, and if they don't get the right of way they just honk. But, because everyone drives that way, traffic is oddly fluid and rarely comes to a full stop. Most of Lima looks dusty and dilapidated, and it's a bit scary to think of what might happen to the rows and rows of cramped brick houses if there was ever a strong earthquake. Since our flight had been delayed for 14 hours, we ended up only having enough time to get a late lunch in Miraflores before rushing back to the house in time to cram ourselves into taxis and head to the bus depot.
The bus from Lima to Arequipa was pretty luxurious - large, reclining seats, plenty of legroom, and even an on-board game of bingo at one point! Although, it seemed kind of weird, traveling at night. All along the road there were shadowy little towns often lit by a few flourescent tubes, and people were outside, sitting at tables, walking around in near-darkness. They were acting as if it wasn't dark outside at all.
We arrived in Arequipa this morning around 10 am, moved out luggage into the apartment and headed out for a tour of an old monastery. The apartment is paid for by Caltech as a home base for visitors helping run the seismic array, and as a receiving station for the data that streams from our antennas that sit at 16,000 ft on the slopes of Chachani, another spectacular volcano just out of Arequipa.
Although I feel like I've gotten a bit quicker with my Spanish in the last two days, I made a pretty silly mistake at lunch today - I thought I was ordering something with artichoke hearts, but instead found myself with these strips of extremely tough, chewy meat - real heart. It didn't taste too bad, but I just couldn't get past the leathery, fibrous texture. Luckily, the side portions were filling enough.
We arrived in Lima yesterday morning around noon, and crammed into some taxis to drop off our baggage at a house belonging to one of the Peruvian collaborators on the seismic network. Driving in Peru is a bit of an experience - there are very few traffic signs and everyone seems to claim right of way, and if they don't get the right of way they just honk. But, because everyone drives that way, traffic is oddly fluid and rarely comes to a full stop. Most of Lima looks dusty and dilapidated, and it's a bit scary to think of what might happen to the rows and rows of cramped brick houses if there was ever a strong earthquake. Since our flight had been delayed for 14 hours, we ended up only having enough time to get a late lunch in Miraflores before rushing back to the house in time to cram ourselves into taxis and head to the bus depot.
The bus from Lima to Arequipa was pretty luxurious - large, reclining seats, plenty of legroom, and even an on-board game of bingo at one point! Although, it seemed kind of weird, traveling at night. All along the road there were shadowy little towns often lit by a few flourescent tubes, and people were outside, sitting at tables, walking around in near-darkness. They were acting as if it wasn't dark outside at all.
We arrived in Arequipa this morning around 10 am, moved out luggage into the apartment and headed out for a tour of an old monastery. The apartment is paid for by Caltech as a home base for visitors helping run the seismic array, and as a receiving station for the data that streams from our antennas that sit at 16,000 ft on the slopes of Chachani, another spectacular volcano just out of Arequipa.
Although I feel like I've gotten a bit quicker with my Spanish in the last two days, I made a pretty silly mistake at lunch today - I thought I was ordering something with artichoke hearts, but instead found myself with these strips of extremely tough, chewy meat - real heart. It didn't taste too bad, but I just couldn't get past the leathery, fibrous texture. Luckily, the side portions were filling enough.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Field Trip
I put up the photos that I took on the field trip this weekend - most of the pictures show people drilling holes in rocks because that's basically what we did all weekend: drill a hole, measure the orientation of the hole, remove the core, label the core, wrap in paper, repeat. Later in the week I'll write up some of the more interesting bits of the trip involving a scatterbrained paleontologist, a restaurant with a polar bear, an angry-looking farmer, and twinkies.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Hello!
Since I'll be doing quite a bit of traveling over the next 6 months, I thought it would be a good idea to set up a blog so that I can keep people updated on my adventures. Stay tuned - I'll be writing about my trip to Peru (5/1/09-5/10/09) and posting pictures on Picasa.
I also added some old albums so that my Picasa gadget isn't totally empty.
I also added some old albums so that my Picasa gadget isn't totally empty.
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