Adventure Starts Here.
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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.
The town of Telluride is so safe that local parents let 10-year-olds run around on their own. Kids routinely hop the free gondola from the mountain village for the 12-minute ride into town where they can go to a movie (there’s one movie theater), get some pizza or a burger and some gummies at The Sweet Life. “Parents just have to be willing to give them the freedom and you will see them blossom,” promises Pam Bennett, whose three children are the fifth generation to be raised here.
For the past week and a half I’ve been in Chile, experiencing a new part of the world with my husband Andy, daughters Reggie and Melanie and Reggie’s boyfriend Dan Foldes. This has been a remarkably easy trip so far. We had a wonderful time touring quirky Valparaiso and cycling around some vineyards. We made it to a famous Penguin nesting habitat, even if we were there the wrong time of day to see thousands of Penguins, we saw plenty.
Rule One: The kids are the leaders. Rule Two: We follow — happily — most of the time anyway. We all know the dirty little secret of family travel: If the kids are happy, the grown-ups are happy, and it doesn’t matter whether you are in a five-star resort in Scottsdale or a budget cabin in the Ozarks, on an once-in-a-lifetime trip to Costa Rica or camping in the nearest state park.
The three of us love skiing… hard. Silverton satisfied our collective appetite for steep slopes, open powder fields and “earning our turns.” With only one lift (not counting the bumblebee-like helicopter that pilots experts to otherwise un-gettable peaks) the Mountain has a huge variety of terrain which can be accessed only by strapping one’s skis to backpacks and trudging up in ski boots.
DAY FIVE AAH. I’m face down with soft music playing at the Golden Door Spa at the Peak’s Resort in Telluride as the massage therapist works magic on my aching muscles (after four days of skiing )
DAY FOUR — I’m standing in a ghost town—in the snow in the middle of the forest. Who says all there is to do on a winter trip to a ski resort is ski or snowboard?
Sixteen year-old Max Walker-Silverman, a Telluride native has a message for visiting teens: “Get out of the mountain village and spread our tentacles and you will find a cool historical town.”
We drive from Silverton about two hours across a mountain pass to another world at Telluride Ski Resort, where we check in to a luxe condo–so luxe I can’t even figure out the lights or the shower (do I want rain shower, multi jets…?) at The Peaks Resort