Underwater Photography 101

Back on December 25th I unwrapped possibly the best Christmas present ever; an underwater housing custom designed to fit my digital camera. It just looks sweet all on it's own as most dive gear does:

But a few weeks into the new year I was tired of just looking at my precious gift and showing it off to strangers everytime a random backpacker I met mentioned diving, so once I got to Ko Tao, a small island off Thailand's west coast remowned for it's diving, I was more than ready to take some kickass underwater shots. I was so excited that I didn't even care that the proprietor of the dive resort made me do a scuba skills review even though I have over 400 dives under my belt and I had been diving as recently as October in Madagascar and I've had my PADI Advanced certification since 1995.*

Anyway, skills review quickly dispatched we still had 1/2 hour of bottom time left so I spent the time furiously taking shots. Here are some of the early ones,

Actually these are the best of my introductory bunch which had a lot of flaws it must be said. It seems I have a tendancy to overuse the flash which led to a lot of particles showing up in my photos despite the awesome flash diffusion screen on the case. I am also inclined, probably as a result of taking so many landscape shots in the past few months, to zoom out and try to capture the entire scene which doesn't work too well underwater especially when the lighting or visibility is poor.

I did learn a few things by trial and error though. Sometimes the flash can work in your favour. Even though everything may look grey/brown as in the next photo, once a little light, or in this case a bright flash of light, is introduced into the equation you see the true colours of the undersea world shine through.

Still my shots were inconsisent at best and as the lighting conditions kept changing I was forever tweaking the settings never really confident that I knew what I was doing. Even my successes like this one,
or, diver from below


were basically good luck. For the diver from below I don't even think I was looking because I was concerned I would surface underneath him. I got to talking about some of the challenges I was facing with some of the divers on the boat** and it turned out that one of the divemasters, Chris, was teaching the underwater photography specialization and gave me a few pointers.


Later when we were talking over beers for 5 nights straight he suggested that I might benefit from the course and I told him that ever since PADI refused to recognize my 20+ logged wreck dives and declare me a 'wreck diver' I don't put too much stock in holding a specialized certification. The quality of the photos will determine whether I could call myself an 'underwater photographer'. But I had to admit that I could use some practical tips so I settled on a one day workshop.

This would explicitly help me overcome one of the biggest obstacles to good underwater photography: being rushed. For normal recreational divers the tendancy is to see as much as possible but in order to get some of the better shots (the same goes for land based photography it could be said) you have to have a lot of patience to wait for the right conditions and for the fish to come to you because chasing fish around is fighting a losing battle.

I recieved a lot of pointers about depth of field and manipulating the amount of light you let in the camera. One of the biggest pointers though was to be sure to calibrate the white balance at depth by taking a clean white slate because how your camera interprets white will influence all the other colours.Another awesome tip was to explore the effects of what on land would be an extreme close up. The effect is remarkable and some of the patterns in the coral are really unique and cool (as above) and some of the shots up close of fish are also quite cool (below).



I still need lots of practice but I've got a much better idea about what makes an interesting photo and it doesn't help to have a bright sunny day either!

Photos: 1-3) Try as we might we couldn't get the bubble ring entirely in the full frame. The challenges of a moving target while the photographer is also swaying with the waves. 4) My new toy. 5) Showing off the skills. There's really not much to it. 6) Me UW self portrait 7) Crown of thorns. Enemy of the reef. 8) Not bad for a first attempt. It looks like they are hiding. 9) Diver and reef. 10) Hey, this coral is actually red!!! 11) I like how the eyes of all the fish came out in this one. It's busy but there is still a focal point. 12) Kind of cool looking silouette from below. 13) Chris. Truly a crazy and unique individual and excellent underwater photographer. 14 -16) Coral close ups. 17-19) Fish close ups.

*Ok it sort of bothered me I mean give me a break man. It doesn't really help that I stopped keeping logs after hurricane Ivan got mine all wet and so have no actual proof of any of my alleged dives
**It is a pretty big boat and on any given day there are beginner classes, specialty classes and just recreational divers.

Dave on the River Kwai

One of the great things about travelling without a set itinerary is the amount of pleasant surprises that you encounter along the way.* For instance did you know that the river kwai and it's historic railway bridge and related WWII historical site is located in Thailand? I didn't. But I was pretty excited to find out that it is just a short two hours bus ride away from Bangkok in a sleepy but cool riverside town called Kanchanaburi.

The movie The Bridge on the River Kwai is a classic Gerhard favourite and even though none of the filming of the movie was done in Thailand and the wooden and bamboo bridge that the forced labour of WWII prisoners of war built in the movie and then later blew up looks nothing like the current concrete and steel bridge (Kanchanaburi is an actual place after all so the bridge was rebuilt after the war), it was pretty cool to see.

I'm not going to lie to you, I made a video of myself walking across the bridge whistling the renowned "Colonel Bogey March" that is forever associated with the movie and goes something like:

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Whoo whoo. Whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whooooo. Whoo whoo. Whoo-whoo-whoooooo-whoo-whoo-whoo. Whoo whoo. Whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-who. Whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo-who-whooooooooooooo. (repeat)

Unfortuately the video is about 10 minutes long so is both too big to upload and too long to be particularly entertaining (10 minutes of me whistling is pretty much unwatchable even if it is in picturesque Thailand on an historic bridge) but it features some interesting moments like:

1) Me side-stepping other tourists who were hanginging out on the bridge (it is pretty much the only tourist attraction in the town**)

2) Me whistling slightly quieter whenever I would pass said tourists in an effort to not get their reaction in the video but also in the hope they wouldn't notice what an immature idiot I was being.

3) Right at the moment I crossed the bridge and was about to dramatically emphasise it by zoomig in on the historic Japanese rising sun emblem on the bamboo watch tower they put on the opposite side some dutch tourist comes up to me and asks me if I know any good hotels or possibly somewhere to have dinner.

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4) Almost as soon as I told the dutch guy to 'F$%! off and stop ruining my kwai river bridge whistling video'***, the guard started blowing his whistle indicating that the train was coming. I mean it was near perfect timing, which was lucky because train and bus schedules and schedules in general are more just suggestions in Thailand so I couldn't have planned it that well. So I ended up getting the train crossing the bridge in the video as well which also took an excruciatingly long time since it had to slow down or stop often to allow all the aforementioned tourists hanging out on the bridge to get to the saftey platforms.

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Once I get back and edit it I think I can probably turn it into a pretty entertaining 2-3 minute clip. Too bad you already know the best bits.

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Right. Kanchanaburi itself is a generally relaxing place (though if you stay too long a slightly boring one). In particular, the guesthouse I stayed in had a massive riverside garden and hammocks and deck chairs which was great for,you know, relaxing by a river in a hammock for instance.

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The city is also a great jumping off point for doing activities like elephant riding, rafting down the river or checking out the Tiger Temple.

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The Tiger Temple has an awesome sounding name conjuring up images of tigers and monks living on a mountain-top, but is actually just a zoo. And not even a very comprehensive zoo with just a few animals other than tigers.

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Although there is a temple thee it isn't particularly historic, is made of poured concrete with pillars tall enough to allow the monk's 4x4 pickup to be parked underneath and had a satelitte dish so the monks can presumably keep up do date with news from the dali lama or just watch the Simpsons in HD, whichever strikes them.

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It also wasn't so much on a secluded mountain top as it was in a field. The field was secluded though. Although by secluded I mean inconveniently located in the middle of nowhere requiring a long and expensive journey from Kanchanaburi. Speaking of expensive, I didn't mention the outrageous entry fee of about 500 bhat. Which may not seem like much (it's about GBP 10) but this is Thailand and, I thought was supposed to be a temple, but I guess satellite upkeep, 4x4 fuel and insurance and tiger food is pretty expensive these days.

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This brings me to the tigers. Real live tigers (although not particularly ferocious as they are prone to sleeping during the heat of mid day and are kept well fed and are used to the attention that hundreds of visitors a day bring).***

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The tigers weren't near the temple though. For saftey purposes they were in the viewing valley a few hundred metres away where, for the price of admission, you could line up, hand one yellow shirted unsmiling worker your camera, where another would hold your hand and lead you around to where the various tigers were sleeping, while yet another would be sure to stand directly behind you so that you have an authentic yellow shirted tiger temple employee in all your photos of authentic, aweomely powerful, amazing, full grown, giant tigers who are sleeping.

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There was also an authentic monk there but you had to pay more for him to appear in your shot.

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Still though, tigers are cool. Especially big ones with big pointy teeth who even with their chains on and sleeping could easily rip your face off so being up close is a thrill and something you couldn't really do in a westernised country.

More adventures of Thailand to come....

Photos 1) Bridge on the River Kwai. The real one. Not the fake movie one. Which was blown up at the end anyway in a great movie ending. 2) DG crossing back over the river. Note the bombs that they placed on either side to emphasize the authenticity of the WWII site. 3) Some guy riding an elephant. 4) DG at the 'Tiger Temple'

*Incidently one of the worst things about doing that is missing out on stuff that would have been easy enough to see 'if only I had known sooner'

**That is if you don't count internet cafes, massage parlours and the awesome tree fort bar that I got ridiculously drunk at with my two Sedish friends Matilde and Emma on 'bring your own vodka night'

***Actual words 'sorry mate I can't help you out I just got here this afternoon myself but most of the restaurants and stuff are on the other side'

****Also, allegedly, they are not drugged according to the volunteer english speaking staff. Did you get that? A tenner a head AND you don't even have to pay your staff. These monks must have gone to Harvard Business School or something.

New Beard's Eve - Because All Good Beards Must Come to an End

Some people loved my beard. I know because they would say things like "Hey, love your beard!" or "Great beard man." Other people had not so much love for the beard and they would say things like "Your beard is silly"* or "Dude, your beard is getting a bit out of control".

In fact, towards the middle of December, once I passed the 4 month milestone I had to agree that my beard was starting to look a bit er..unkempt. But I was allowing it to become so because I had already determined my exit strategy from bearded life. I decided to host a new year's eve beard shaving party at my parents house near Toronto where I had scheduled a 10 day stopover for the holidays on my way from Argentina to Bangkok.**

In early November I set up an event page in facebook for a new year's eve party and, so people might feel more involved, invited anyone who wanted to to grow a beard which they could likewise shave off on what I was calling 'New Beard's Eve'.

The main reason I set it up so far in advance was that I was due to be travelling in South America and specifically trekking in the Andes for a few weeks ending in mid December which I figured might be a bit late to schedule a new year's eve party. Since I also knew that access to the internet would be sporadic and I wouldn't be able to answer questions and generally keep up the hype I appointed Matt as administrator of the event in my absence. Initially he was less than enthusiastic***, but once he came up with the title 'Beardministrator' which he could use when referring to himself in the third person (eg. 'The Beardministrator would like to remind everyone...etc.) he was ok with it.

Not only was he ok with it he took to it like a duck who was growing an awesome beard would to water ( basically such a duck would take to water the same as a normal duck but would be more cool due to his wicked beardedness). In the 20 days that I was offline trekking in the Andes, he continually hyped up the event and generally raised the 'beardthusiasm' to incredible levels. Not only had he and my other brother Steve started growing beards but so had my good friend Sean from high school.

There were now going to be four of us shaving off our beards on New Beard's Eve. And the lads were exchanging notes about how their beard growing was coming along and transformed the event from just a vague concept that I came up with one day while wondering how long I should keep my beard, to a ligitimate 'Event' that now even had an acronym: NBE.

Evidence of the enthusiasm include the following magazine covers:



and:


And to top it off, my bearded breatheren****had even gone so far as to order NBE hoodies that even said 'STAFF' on the back and VIP shirts for the ladies which all came out on Christmas morning after I unwrapped mine.


Having a custom made NBE hoodie really fired me up and looking back it's hard to say which was more fun, the final planning stages or the actual event.

Planning was excellent becuase it gave us a chance to flex our creative muscles a bit. Like creating the Beard Trivia Game or Jeap-Beard-y using the latest PlayStation 3 quiz game that lets you upload your own Q and A like: Q: "Who wrote the line: To Beard, or not to Beard, that is the question?" A: William Shakesbeard. We came up with 31 more just like it!

We also created the Great Hall of Beards featuring great beards of history so people would know they entered the right house:

There was also the NBE Guest Orientation packs which included a fake beard for all those who did not or were incapable of growing their own beard:

The fake beard came with graphical instructions for how to wear it similar to the lifejacket instructions on airplanes. "Don't forget to secure your own beard first before helping others."

The night itself was really good fun and I got to catch up with great friends who I don't see that often. Not eveyone could stay late due to the fact that their small children require a lot of attention and have more enthusiasm for the snack table than the official NBE Beard Shaving Centre but it was nice to see them all the same. Still, I declare that NBE 2008/2009 was a big success. As a group we went from looking like this:

to looking like this:


Passing through various stages like this:

this:


and this:


Until the result was four clean shaven "gentlemen".*****

I would like to point out that for me, growing a beard while travelling was easy and fun and all part of the adventure but I think it took real guts for Matt, Steve and Sean to start growing beards in Mid-November with the sole objective of shaving on NBE all the while still working and living their 'normal' lives. Thanks guys! It was a fun night, and going from this guy:

to this guy:


on NBE wouldn't have been the same without you.

In the end my 2008 beard travelled with me through 8 countries and lasted from August 15, 2008 until the wee hours of new year's eve which, if you're counting, and I am, is 140 days assuming you count Friday August 15th as day 0 which I do. Whatever the count, it shattered my 2007 Project Chabal/Beardvember beard which only made it to 67 days but was still pretty impressive.

The clean shaven adventures of Dave continue. Next stop: Bangkok!

Photos: 1)DG having just applied mousse to the beard to y'know make it stylish and whatnot. 2) Hanging out chez Gerhard with a nice xmas nogg doing some light beard related reading 3) Matt taking care of some last minute Beardministrator business. 4-5) Magazine covers made by the Beardministrator 6) Beardthusiasm at its best with the new NBE shirts. 7) Sean and Matt in the 'Great Hall of Beards' that's Darwin in the background Al. Samuel de Champlain was the other one you couldn't guess. Excellent guess on Czar Nicolas though. 8) Matt demonstrating proper fake beard technique. 9-10) The beards before and after. 11-13) The 'durings' 14-15) more before and after.

*Sounds better when coming from a Malagasy girl in french 'votre barbe est drole' or something to that effect.
**Some may not consider this to technically be 'on the way' but it was the way that I took
***I think his initial reaction was something exactly like 'Wait a minute, how did I get to be administrator. I am not a beard Curator by anymeans I am still a beard noob. I am only 3 weeks and 1 day into said beard and it does not warrant any kind of administrator privlidges. oh.. I;m off to climb a mountian.. can;t talk now have great bearded adventures to take part in. well yer not the only one thats busy.. in fact as you have so previously pointed out you are probably the least busy as you are on yer vacation'
****Matt came up with that handle. Further evidence of his outstanding performance as Beardministrator.
*****Technically 3 since Matt didn't finish the job until the next morning and was actually passed out sleeping on the couch while we were saying final goodbyes to our beards. But hey, as Beardministrator he's entitled to do what he wants without people giving him grief about it eh?

The Search for the Valley of the Moon

After nearly 10 days of essentially doing nothing except hanging out and drinking wine (albiet in a few different and very scenic locations like Bariloche in Pategonia) and finally getting a doctor to give me the all clear on my feet, which I had started to worry about because they were still numb after 2 weeks since the summit, which, call me crazy, just didn't seem right, I thought I'd get out and actually do something.

The Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon) provincial park* boasts, as you would expect, moonlike terrain, but also some of the world's most well preserved dinosaur fossils from the triassic period. Though the fossils aren't actually there now so I didn't get to see them. It seems that sometime between when my guidebook was last updated and when I was there they moved them all to a museum in Buenos Aires or somewhere that get's a bit more traffic than out of the way desert park. I'm also led to believe that there is a lot of other really interesting stuff about the valley but since the tour was in spanish I missed a lot. Anyway this story is about the journey to get there and back which was much more eventful than the actual park visit.

After leaving the doctor's office in Mendoza with my new foot xrays I headed to the north of Argentina to San Juan, a kind of blue collar town with nothing much happening and no real reason to go there other than it's near the Valley of the Moon. Well 'near' is not exactly accurate. It turns out it is about 350kms south-south-west of the Valley of the Moon but looks much much closer on the map I was using for trip planning.

As a result of it's 'proximity' to the park, San Juan my not have actually been the best place to base myself for this excursion but there I was. Did I mention that there's not much happening in there? And also that it's hundred's of kilometres away from the main tourist attraction? I did. Oh Ok. well it also has the very weird distinction of being a desert town that is super hot yet prone to violent thunderstorms and heavy rainfalls that from time to time flood the roads.***Since there's not much going on, there's not many people there so unlike other places I'd visited, the hostel was empty and I was doing this tour solo.

The lady at the hostel was friendly but ultimately unhelpful and so a quick internet search indicated that it would be cheap and easy to rent a car. It turns out it was neither,but, by 10:30am I was behind the wheel and doing my best to hold up the map to navigate and shift gears and drink a McDonalds coffee** at the same time.

Once I got my bearings and was 85% confident that I was going the right way (I at least knew from the GPS that I was at least going the right direction - ie. north-ish) the fuel light came on. Even though I find starting from the rental company with an empty tank quite annoying and inconvenient at least this gave me a chance to take a few mins to consult my my properly while not also driving and stuffing my face.

Back on the open road I was feeling good and started making some time. With a little luck I could be there by 1:00, do the tour and get back before it got dark.****It was outside of the cities that I saw the most evidence of the previous night's rainfall. There were very large puddles in the desert that sort of remined me of the Cayman Islands post-Hurricane Ivan puddles that never seemed to go away, but in general the roads were clear.

So when I came up over a little rise to see a "puddle" spanning the road I didn't really give it too much consideration other than to take my foot off the gas but it turns out that "small river breaching the road" would have been a better description for this particular "puddle" and I thundered into about 1 1/2 feet of water at about 120kmph. Nothing like crashing into a surprise body of water at high speed to get your heart pumping! It wasn't just the noise (kind of a whoooomph sort of sound) or the fact that my car was now covered in brownish water (even the roof), but suddenly I smelled fuel. That can't be good I thought. I was right. I started to lose power. The car wasn't responding to my desire to get away from that puddle and continue on my journey as fast as possible as if nothing had happend. I did manage to get most of the way onto the shoulder and for a while just sat there. trying to restart the car.

"Maybe it just has water in the engine and needs to dry out?" I theorized noting that on a hot day in the middle of the desert drying out the engine would be something I could accomplish without a lot of effort on my part other than opening the hood. So I did. Everything looked normal. Nothing was particularly wet. But then the water had come in from the bottom so who know's. Anyway I decided to give it 10 minutes and try restarting it. You know in case my water theory was correct. It turns out it wasn't correct and it also turns out that 10 minutes is a really long time to be sitting on the side of the road in the desert staring at your watch.

So I tried starting the car again. Same result. Which is to say nothing happened. Hmm, this could be more serious than I thought. I better put my hazard lights on. Since no passing cars were stopping to help me out. I thought I would get down on the ground and really suss things out for myself. So I looked underneath the passenger side of the car around where the fuel tank was to see if I could at least figure out why there was still a very petrol like smell coming from the car.

Now, as you may have guessed, I'm no expert when it comes to being an auto mechanic but I'm pretty sure that the fuel line is supposed to be attached to the fuel tank in order to, y'know, get fuel to the engine. Well it wasn't anymore. The metal piece where the fuel line attaches to the tank had sheered off when I drove through the "puddle" and was now dragging on the ground (or I guess it was actually resting on the ground since, as a direct result the car was no longer moving).

"Well at least I know what's wrong" I thought. Immediately followed by "Wait. How does knowing what's wrong help. I'm not going to be able to fix it and am still stranded in the desert." But knowing what the problem was still felt comforting for some reason.

Anyway, so I'm stranded in the middle of the desert approximately 1/2 way between my starting point and my destination and I start waving at cars to stop and call a tow truck. Two problems: 1) I don't know the spanish for "I stupidly drove too fast through that puddle back there and broke my fuel line. Can you please call a tow truck?" and 2) no one is stopping anyway. The second one is getting to me more than the first. After a while a car going the opposite direction does stop and I convince them, I think, to inform the police checkpoint that I passed about 20kms back that there's a stranded motorist. This makes me feel better and I stop waving people down.

Since I'm a bit bored I start inspecting the damage. Looks like it's pretty clean. The two halves fit together perfectly. If only I had some electrical tape or some crazy gule.....wait a second. I've got both. Miraculously, I brought my 1st aid kit with me. Something I would have had very little likelihood of needing. I didn't bring my glasses. But I brought band aids, electircal tape and crazy glue.****Now, I was under no illusions that this would fix the problem. But I thought there might, just might, be an outside chance that I could fix the problem for long enough to get to a service station. No, I was wrong. I couldn't. It would have been really really awesome if I could have. I'm talking MacGyver awesome but no it wasn't happening.

Although...while I have the crazy glue out, I might as well have another go at fixing my prescription sunglasses....

Just then, a transport truck pulls off the road and stops behind me. He saw the hood up and my flashing lights and just stopped. All by himself. I was trying to fix my glasses and waiting for the cavalry to come save me from the police checkpoint who, I'm sure by now have been notified and will probably be sending out search and rescue helicopters any minute.

The trucker, gets out and approaches me. What happens next is awesome! Not only have I figured out the spanish for my fuel line is broken and as a consequence my car is in an undrivable state (I just point continuously underneath the car until he looks there. But before he can even look he lights a cigarette. Um....not so wise with the leaking fuel and all...I tried to say but mostly my eyes just widened waiting for the impending explosion.....phew.

So I'm going over my options with this guy. And by going over my options I mean that he is talking quite a bit in Spanish and I don't know what the hell he's on about. I'm thinking "best case scenario I can get him to call a tow truck" but deep down, having driven through 189kms of desert villages already I'm not overly optimisitc. So then just as I think I understand him that he wants to give me a ride to the next village, which I'm not super keen on as it would mean leaving my rental car and it's 7,200 peso deductible in the middle of the desert, he pulls ahead of me hooks up my car to a 10ft strap, gives me extremely explicit instructions (which I somehow understand perfectly) to be very careful on the brakes especially on the down hill parts, and starts towing me.

This has me freaking out. A minute ago I was worried about leaving the car and now i'm illegally (I assume) towing it behind a big rig and trailor. I've got a great video of it but it is about 15 mins long so is too big to upload from internet cafes. A lot of it has me saying things like "Holyshitholyshitholyshit" and "I'm so scared right now, not of dying but of messing this up". Funny that I wasn't so scared as to put down the camera and steer with two hands....

After 20mins or so of stress we pull into a "garage" (which is basically a shack in the middle of the desert with some wrecked cars and oil drums around it). The truck driver explains what's wrong and miracle of miracles the mechanic claims to be able to fix it. This is outstanding. 20mins ago I was trying to fix my car with electrical tape and now I've got someone with a jack and blocks and parts and know how with his head under my car.

Well, he tinkered around under there for a good hour, periodically getting out to get a part or see if I was comfortable sitting in the sun and would maybe like some shade. Who are these mystery people. 1st a guy stops without me asking and rigs up a towing system for a stranded motorist that could seriously damage his truck and therefore his livelihood and then the mechanic is more concerned that I'm comfortable than he is with the vehicle. Absolutely incredible. If you are going to break down I highly recommend the Argentine destert.

Whn he asked me to start the car and it actually started....the feeling....indescribeable. Maybe exhilerating would do it justice but I don't think that's quite right. It was that but it was mixed with relief and excitement as well. Unfortunately he recommended that I turn right around and go back to San Juan and get it fixed properly. And maybe if it was my car and I was from Argentina and could see the Valley of the Moon any time I want then I would have but as he seemed to do a kickass job of fixing what I was confident was the only problem I figured why not continue on.

So I did. And this is what the valley of the moon looks like:

I had arrived at 4:50. 10 minutes before the last tour of the park started. I arrived in time to see the red ridge that looked like they should have named it the "Martian Valley" and then to see the really cool moonscape and generally drive around a really cool valley very very carefully, stressing out over just about every bump, hoping my new fuel line system wouldn't let me down.

It didn't. But because I got there at 5. I was leaving to return back to San Juan at 8:00. Just before it got dark.

Remember my glasses? I didn't. So the drive there which, was supposed to take about 4 hours took me about 6.5 to get home. Partly because the line markings suck and it was another dark and stormy night and partly because up in the desert the Argentines don't bother to fence in their livestock so around seemingly every corner my high beams were lighting up a horse or a cow in the middle of the road. Soon I started seeing cows and horses even when they weren't there.

To compound matters when I got back to the city I immediately got lost. Even though the city is a reasonably straightforward rectangular grid it has three layers of encircling roads and at 2 in the morning after stressing out about horses on the road for 6 hours it's not nearly as easy as it looked on the map the next day.

When I returned the car I was just about to tell the guy about the problems I had but he went on and on about how I wasn't returning it with enough fuel and actually accompanied me to the pumps where I put about 3 bucks worth in to get it to the level of his satisfaction. Remember I picked it up and had to almost immediatly get fuel. I was very disappointed in him and so forgot to mention that his fuel line was currently held together by a rural desert patchwork of miscellaneous parts and ingenuity.

Nothing is ever easy is it? But it makes for a good story....

Photos 1) The landscape, and cactuses in particular reminded me of the roadrunner cartoons. So I took lots of photos. 2) Bariloche. See I told you it was nice. 3) Fuel line detached. 4) Car getting fixed in desert lot. 5-7) The valley of the moon.

*Actual name of the park is Ischigualasto and valle de la luna is just a part of it but I mean c'mon I can't even pronounce it so I'm not going to bother writing it either. Except for just now. But I actually copied and pasted it from wikipedia so didn't actually write it per se. Anyhooo, back to the blog.

**Proper take away coffee houses just haven't reached some corners of the globe yet unfortunately

***BTW don't listen to wikipedia on this one. It says that San Juan has lots happening with all kinds of culture and whatnot as well as noting that "very little rain falls in the region". Normally I don't have a bad thing to say about wikipedia and rely on it heavily but it got this one wrong. At least as far as a weekend in late December 08 goes when I was there.

****In my haste to get going I had forgotten to bring my eyeglasses which I need for important things like watching tv and driving at night.

*****What can I say, along with some other stuff that really is what is in my 1st aid kit.

********That's like CAD 2,500 or something

Mt Aconcagua Expidition: Summit Baby!

So back in 2001 when I went on my then 'epic' 6 week trip in South America I went to the foothills of the tallest mountain in the Americas, Mt. Aconcagua which peaks out at 6,962m or (23,841ft). I've got a good photo of it but it was so long ago that it was not taken on a digital camera so it's not featured here. Anyway being there and then meeting some people who tried to climb the mountain whet my appetite for summiting and when I found that there was an opportunity to join up with an expedition group and still be able to be back in Canada for Christmas I signed up immediately.

Not having any experience with high altitude I opted to go for the expeditions 'Extended Acclimitization Plan' (EAP) which saw me and two experienced German climbers begin our trek 2 days earlier than the rest of the group. We made it to the first camp at 3,100m with no issues other than the fact that I was a bit sick and needed to use the toilet constantly. The safety measures in place in the park were impressive but even though we had to visit the doctor daily to have our blood pressure and blood oxygenation levels* checked and discuss our general health, I conveniently forgot to mention that I was having trouble staying hydrated due to the fact that all the water I was drinking was finding it's way immediately back out.**

Even though I felt crappy (no pun intended) and did not enjoy any of the excrutiatingly long 8 hour hike up to the actual base camp Plaza des Mulas (4,300m) I got a full night's sleep once there and enjoyed the 'day off to acclimatize' the next day by augmenting the rock wall around my tent.

The next day saw the rest of the group arrive which was good because I had little in common with the two 50 something year old german dudes and one of them didn't speak English so communication was also difficult. We were now 14: Dave, Jan, Letitia, Dennis, Simon, Steve, Pascal, Cedric, Bernard, Walter, Caesar, Ricardo, Dieter and Helmut. Nationalities spanning the globe.

With lots of down time we spent a lot of time BS'ing in the food tent, just hanging out in our respective tents, playing cards***( in particular a game called Shit Head which Dennis was particularly bad at) or just waiting to be fed all with an upbeat attitude about the task ahead and lots of laughs now that there were some people in the group who both spoke English and had a sense of humour.

Once our acclimitization period was over at Plaza des Mulas we had 6 straight days of torture, well 7 if you count day 0. Tuesday the weather went bad and it snowed and the wind blowed and sleep was difficult to come by especially because part of acclimatizing meant drinking 5 litres of water per day which meant waking up at least once a night to go pee.

Wednesday we set off with full packs**** for the first of three high altitude camps Plaza de Canada (which we just called camp 1) and for the first time since Madagascar I was carrying a heavy load up a mountain. Believe me my legs let me know it the next day. The snow and wind started to blow on the way up the mountain and even though I would have been warmer I opted to let my beard warm my face instead of my bandana which was absolutely disgusing smelling having been absorbing sweat for two weeks or so since last being washed.

The high altitude camps meant no more meal tent so we ate our meals, either outside if the weather was good or, except for camp 1 when the sun came out, huddled up inside our tents.

Thursday and Friday saw the same crappy weather with snow falling and wind blowing and the two nights at these camps were probably the worst. It was -15 degrees outside not counting the effect of wind chill and even once I was warm and cozy in my sleeping bag my breath would condense on the outside of my sleeping bag or my pillow making them wet and disgusting and ultimately would condense on the ceiling of the tent, freeze and then when the wind would blow, would fall back down on me as if it were snowing inside the tent!!! Very unpleasant to say the least. It makes it really hard to get enthusiastic for a day of trekking when you've only had a couple of hours sleep and your pillow is wet. That said, the higher we went the more scenic and panoramic the views became, though my photos are few due to the fact that it was too cold to take off my gloves to opperate the camera or just too cold to be bothered leaving the tent altogether.

Saturday was summit day. On Friday night, our first night at camp 3, there was some concern whether or not the weather would be good enough to make an attempt on the summit. The wind was howling and it was freezing (exact temperature unknown but 'F'ing Freezing!' seems about right) so at 5:00am when our guide awoke us to let us know we were going to depart for the summit at 6:30am, it was hard to get up for it. Also, in the course of getting ready, I found that the outer shell of my trekking boots were frozen solid and I had to struggle for 15mins just to get my boots on, as a result I was delaying the group and getting stressed everytime the guide said 'c'mon guys, we're going'. Once I finally got my boots on I still wasn't ready and had to fill my water bottles which was met with a frustrated groan and eye roll from the guides. Then I had to find my ice axe, which wasn't where I expected it to be. So rather than panic and look all around for it I just said 'forget it' and went without it. The only one to do so I noticed after surveying everyone else's packs but I knew from discussions with others that there was only a slim chance of needing it anyway.

At about 6:50 or so we finally left and I took up my position near the back of the pack just, cause that's the way I do it, I don't like to feel like I'm being pushed and like to trek at a slow yet continuous pace.

As we were trekking I noticed that there weren't as many of us as there were supposed to be, Steve and Caesar were not in the group. When added to the fact that Bernard, Dieter, Helmut and Dennis had already turned back at various stages we were only 8 making a run at the summit.

Later, when reflecting on the trek over a few beers, we were all of the same opinion that our primary guide, Pablo, did not do his best to motivate the group and seemed insistent on convincing people to turn back as we reached certain milestones. For me he asked me how I was doing, I said "tired but fine' as, other than heavy breathing I was not suffering at all from the effects of high altitude and had no symptoms of altitude sickness or any other discomfort other than being tired from lack of sleep and having tired legs from 4 straight days of steep mountain ascent. Reminiscent of the Malagasy mountain guide when I climbed Pic Boby, he wouldn't let up though, "How are your legs?" "Don't forget you have to come back down too" "We only have a certain amount of time to reach the summit"*****. I think in his efforts to talk me down, he inadvertantly motivated me to keep going just out of spite. Never underestimate the power of spite.

By the time we broke for lunch at about 1:00pm there were only two of us left, and I felt sure that Ricardo, who had earned the nickname La Machina, (due to the fact that he was fit and built like a tank Argentinian rugby player) would continue on with me but before I knew it he had turned around and was heading down the mountain with Pablo, the last of our group's guides and I had joined up with another group who I had never met before to make the final 3 hour ascent towards the summit.

From the photos you can tell that it was a beautiful sunny day and my legs were surprisingly holding up very well considering I'd never before undertaken such a physically demanding activity. With Pablo gone I could turn off the spite and just turn off in general and, like a robot, follow the person in front of me step by very, very slow step.

One hour into the final ascent we could see the summit. It looke really close. Like a couple of hundred metres away. But still two hours of trekking. Head down. One foot in front of the other. Don't forget to breathe.******

Finally, I made it! I mean I actually made it. On December 6, 2008 at about 3:50pm Andes time I reached the summit of the highest mountain in the Americas. It was really wierd that it wasn't a more emotional reaction. No sense of pride or even sense of relief. Just a matter of fact "I made it". The weirdness was compounded by the fact that, after a couple of weeks of talking about it with the group I was the only one there and had no one to high five or likewise congratulate. Seven years after I had originally been awe inspired by Mt. Aconcagua and the Andes in general I had no more emotional reaction than if I had just cycled across London to pick up my awesome goggles. 'Yup I'm here. Guess it's time to turn around and go back." Which I did. Though I did take some time to take and pose for some kickass photos if I do say so myself!

So I said 7 days of torture, that's only 5. Well to pariphrase Newton, "He who goes up a mountain must come down". My feet were hurting. I was tired. Exhausted even. In general I'm a slow trekker and even more so on the downhill due to not wanting to further tweak my wonky****** left knee. Trekking downhill was very slow but when I got down to the base camp there was a heroes welcome for the 1/14 to summit and hamburgers and coke. All of which were welcome.

That night we celebrated our experience and our last night on the mountain with champagne, beer and....whatever it was we had for dinner.

That night my lips exploded. Apparently my beard is unable to protect my lips from harsh sunlight at high altitude continuously reflecting off the snow into my face as I look down carefully placing every step for 8 hours up and 4 hours down on a bright and sunny summit day. That made Monday equally crap as i had to hide my lips from the sun and coddle my aching feet for the 8 hour hike down from base camp to the park entrance.

I assumed my feet were hurting due to wearing my boots too tight and really cinching on the crampons because I had taken the precaution of wearing all 4 pairs of my wool winter socks so I couldn't have frostbite right? Well, sort of. It turns out I had mild frostbite and when I went to the doctor a few weeks later because my toes were still numb, something I didn't think was consistent with 'boot squeeze' or whatever you want to call it, the doctor said that i had "no problem" and that I should regain feeling in my toes within 2-3months. Yes that says months.

Anyway it appears that success has it's price. Luckily around Mendoza and in Argentina generally red wine flows like a river and at about $2 a bottle so 'medicating' myself as I slowly recover was really quite pleasant.

Photos: 1) Summit Baby! 2) View from the toilet 'window' 3) View of the summit at sunset, awesome tent wall in the foreground 4) Dinner at high altitude camp 1 5) Freezing cold sunset 6) View from the summit. 6,962m. Waaaaay above the clouds. 7) Oh Ya! I made it! 8) Group photo, middle guy who made it to the top 9 + 10) Success has a price 11) Enjoying the medication

*I still don't know what this is, something like the higher your number, the fewer breaths you need to take to get the same amount of oxygen in your blood. Though how this is measured by cliping a sensor to your finger and not actually drawing blood, I'm not exactly sure.

**My logic was that, from experience, this is a temporary condition and I didn't want to be prevented from continuing up the mountain for something that would go away in a couple of days.

***Which I luckily remembered to bring but only because I had lost my bank card and had to go rummaging through my bag that I had earmarked for storage while we climbed the mountain for my mobile phone to cancel it only to find my cards there too

****Full meaning all of our personal stuff, not counting food and tents which were carried by the guides/porters.

*****Alluding to my 4 straight days of being one of the slowest in the group

******Don't forget to apply sunscreen to my lips should have also been on my mind.

*******Tweak and wonky both being proper medical terms for my condition