It’s cold and the snow is dumping but that doesn’t stop hundreds of locals from turning out to cheer on the Snowboarders in their final comp before the U.S. Olympic Team is named. “It’s fun family time,” says Dan Kemp, with his wife and two young daughters.
Eight-year-old Henry Silverman may be a little jaded—at least when it comes to Olympians, his mom Caroline admits.
You can’t really blame him since he’s growing up in Park City, Utah, a town that’s home to the U.S. Snowboarding Team and chock full of past and present Olympians. “We see Olympians every day,” she laughs.
I’m lying on a heated massage table in the spanking new spa at the St. Regis Deer Crest at Deer Valley. “We’ve been very busy,” the massage therapist tells me. It is a great massage complete with paraffin treatment to soften and help the blood flow in my tired feet and a scalp treatment. Great steam room! Another massive luxury hotel property is on line to open next year. The people checking in to the St Regis don’t seem concerned about the price of the rooms.
Deer Valley has been named the #1 ski resort in North America in 2008, 2009 and again this year in North America by the readers of SKI Magazine.
Add in 300 annual inches of famous Utah dry powder, 100 trails, six bowls, 21 chairlifts and a limited number of skiers allowed on the mountain each day; three day lodges glowing warm with firelight and gourmet food, the well respected Ski School and Children’s Center; and the sheer ease of the place — parking lot shuttles, complimentary ski storage, ski valets and more.
A GIRL’S JUST GOTTA HAVE FUN! I’m sitting in one of ski country’s newest posh resorts—The St. Regis Deer Crest in Deer Valley. My room looks out over the groomers Deer Valley is known for and I can see the hotel’s hot tubs. There’s a fireplace and a marble bath and oh-so-comfy beds.
The locals in Chile’s famous Torres del Paine National Park in Patagonia are rhea, small ostriches, the gray fox, and herds of guanaco — a kind of llama who totally ignore us as the males chase each other (only one male can be dominant in a herd of females) and the females nurse their oh-so-cute babies. More than a dozen condors fly overhead so close we can make out the white on their wings, which span nine feet across!
We’ve stopped in a native village called Machucha Town –at over 12,000 feet where local Attacamas stay while herding their llama. Today we don’t see llamas—just tourists—and a local man dishing up llama shish kabab while a woman fries llama empanadas inside. In case you are wondering, llama tastes like lamb.
It is not easy to breathe the air up around 18,000 feet, especially when hiking straight to the top of a volcano. The Toco Volcano is the most difficult excursion offered by Tierra Atacama, one of San Pedro, Chile’s most luxurious and beautiful boutique hotels.
I’m not dreaming. The handsome, long-haired 29 year old Chilean is Max Vera, who is guiding us on a challenging hike uphill along the canyon floor, scrambling over big rocks, along a sandy trail, in between large “fox tails” that grow in this region and Cacti that are 12 feet high with needles so sharp that local Indian women use them as needles to sew and knit.
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Day 10 — Welcome to Laguna de Chaxa (Chaxa Lake) and the National Reserve of Flamingoes that is about an hour from St. Pedro, Chile from where we’re staying at the lovely 32-room Tierra Atacama
DAY 8 — We’re in Bernardo O’Higgins National Park, the largest in Chile with several hanging glaciers including Balmaceda and Serrano Glaciers. We’ve taken a small boat from Puerto Natales, about five minutes from Hotel Remota (www.remota.cl) where we are staying for a three-hour cruise—past a huge waterfall and condor nest! “You read about it in books and then you can look and see it,” says Sandy VanLandingham, from Arizona visiting here with extended family.
DAY 7 in Chile — It is one of those vacation days I think I must be dreaming. I’m in the Patagonian hills of Chile riding a gentle horse named Chinosca as we climb higher and higher on a traditional estancia or ranch, past grazing sheep and cattle. The hills are dotted with stumps of the traditional Linca trees—cut down in the early 1900s, our guide Alvaro Jaime tells us, both for energy in the new settlement of Puerto Natales and to provide more grazing land in those days.
Boiling mud pots, rain forests, and a drive-in Volcano. All that and spectacular beaches, too, on the Caribbean island of St. Lucia, which promises a lot more than your typical resort getaway. With a culture that has borrowed from both the British and French — the small island midway between Martinique and St. Vincent changed hands some 14 times before finally gaining independence in 1979.
I’m bushwhacking up a trail in Patagonia, scrambling over loose rocks and getting more frustrated by the minute. My knee aches. The guide is not helpful or attentive. I wish I’d remembered to ask for hiking poles—they really help. I wish he’d remembered to offer them.
This isn’t our neighborhood–the sweeping expanse of Torres del Paine National Park in Chile’s Patagonia belongs to herds of rhea (small ostriches), the gray fox, and herds of guanaco—a kind of llama who totally ignore our presence as the males chase each other (only one male can be dominant in a herd of females) and the females nurse their oh so cute babies.
The whole lamb is roasting on a spit over blistering hot coals in the middle of nowhere–literally. It smells delicious and has been soaked in beer and seasoned only with salt.
It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m writing this in perhaps the most unique resort I’ve ever seen—Hotel Remota outside the Patagonian town of Puerto Natales, a small (perhaps 15,000 people) but growing tourist town for those discovering the wonders of this region.
We used to just worry about whether the airlines would get our baggage from point A to point B. Now they’re charging us–in some cases nearly as much as the flight ticket–to ferry it there
So this morning we’re at Turis-Otway, about an hour northwest of Punta Arenas. Many here take a boat to Isla Magdalena to see some of the 120,000 penguins who live at the Monomento Natural Los Pinguinos which, according to Fodor’s is one of the continent’s largest penguin sanctuaries, open only from December to February when the Magellanic penguins come here to nest and nurture their babies along the southern Chilean Coast.
We are sprawled under giant eucalyptus trees, chickens squawking as we tuck into a picnic (our trays are the tops of oak wine barrels—at the Emiliana Winery, which makes only organic wines in the Casablanca Valley—one of Chile’s big wine-growing regions about 22 miles east of Valparaiso.