I studied abroad in Ireland but I never kissed the Blarney Stone. I visited the Great Pyramids at Giza but refused to pony up for the classic photo on the camel. And I went to the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, but didn’t bother to put a wish or prayer in one of its crevices. I don’t have an interest in checking off travel cliché to-do boxes or even making bucket lists, but for some reason that I can’t really explain, I wanted to hike up to the Hollywood sign while in L.A. last week.
In many ways, I hate everything Hollywood represents and rarely spend money on the kind of mindless, big budget movies that are produced there. But I love hikes that have some goal at the summit and, well, I wanted to see the damn sign up close. Don’t ask me why.
Earlier this year, there was quite a bit of press about how people who live near the foot of the Hollyridge Trail that leads up near the sign are sick of lost tourists following their GPS’s onto their dead-end streets in search of the trailhead. So rather than use my GPS, I Googled “Hike to the Hollywood” sign and was surprised to learn that there are a few ways to see the sign.
I drove north on Beachwood Drive in Hollywood until the street came to a dead end. There I found hand painted signs that pointed towards a horse stable to the left and the Hollywood sign to the right. It was a warm Thursday afternoon and there were only a smattering of people on the dusty trail, most of them speaking foreign languages and clutching cameras.
The wide path leads you on a gradual ascent through the scrubby, camouflage-colored landscape of the Hollywood Hills. After about 15 minutes, the trail split – to the right was an uphill path and to the left the terrain was level. There was no one around to ask, so I went left and in another 15 minutes came to a little rocky plateau where some French and Russian tourists were posing for photos with the sign as a backdrop.
It felt like a dismal letdown. We were relatively close to the sign but, in honesty, the darn thing looked more impressive from a distance when seen from Beachwood Drive. I headed back in the direction I’d come from and when I got back to the fork I asked a woman who was jogging down the hill from the other direction what was up that way.
“A great view,” she said. “Just follow the trail up and you’ll end up right on top of the Y and W in the sign.”
I followed the path up for about 20 minutes and eventually arrived at the top of Mt. Lee, where a 10- to 12-foot fence stops tourists from trying to hike down and actually pose with the sign itself. I stepped on a rock in order to snap off a few photos and was joined by a couple from Wisconsin that was irate when they saw the fence.
“We can’t even take our photo with it,” the woman complained. And her male companion was annoyed that only half the sign would fit in his camera frame. Nonetheless, they asked me to take their photo standing in front of the fence and I gladly obliged. It may not have been exactly what we imagined, but it was a little piece of Hollywood for us to take back to the Midwest.
I’m going to go out on a limb here, and say that Reno has historically not been one of my favorite places to visit. But I spend a fair amount of time passing through, because my brother and his family live nearby, in the ski town of Truckee. Flying into Reno is convenient for anyone wanting to visit Lake Tahoe.
For years, my brother, Mark, has been telling me that Reno is undergoing a renaissance of sorts, what with the implementation of Wingfield Park – the city’s kayaking park that runs through downtown – and the Truckee River Walk with its galleries, cafes, and brewery. But don’t worry: Reno is still The Biggest Little City in the World, rife with the requisite prostitutes, crack houses, tattoo parlors, pawn shops and all the unsavory characters one would expect to find.
Yet, I discovered a younger, gentler, hipper Reno over Thanksgiving when I was in Truckee. Reno is trying to dial down its hard-core gambling, all-you-can-eat, come-all-ye-societal-fringe-dwellers rep. The most noticeable change is the gentrification underway along the South Virginia Street Corridor, the major north-south business artery. The street is paralleled to the east by a mix of decrepit and charmingly restored Victorian and Craftsman homes. Housing, Mark says, is ridiculously affordable.
I did a book signing over the holiday off South Virginia at a bustling new cheese shop, Wedge. A lovely addition to the area, Wedge has an excellent selection of domestic and imported cheese, as well as house-made sandwiches, specialty foods and primo charcuterie. Want a good, affordable bottle of wine, some soppressata, and a hunk of award-winning, Alpine-style cow’s milk cheese from Wisconsin? Wedge has it.
When Mark and I arrived at the shop, he commented on how much the area was changing, citing the soon-to-be-open wine bar, Picasso and Wine, next door. The employees cheerfully agreed that there were lots of exciting developments underway, but that “there’s a crack house just two doors down.” They weren’t joking, either. We were parked in front of it.Close to Wedge is Midtown Eats, an adorable, farmhouse-modern cafe, and Crème, a sweet breakfast spot specializing in crepes. Get lunch at popular soup-and-sandwich spot Süp, imbibe (and eat) at Brasserie St. James brewery, Craft Beer & Wine, and mixology geek faves Reno Public House, and Chapel Tavern (over 100 whiskeys on shelf!). Making dinner in your rental ski cabin or condo? Visit the Tahoe area’s only Whole Foods.
If you’re in need of some sweet street-style, hit Lulu’s Chic Boutique or Junkee Clothing Exchange. If it’s your home that’s in need of an inexpensive upgrade, Recycled Furniture is the place. As for those tats and street drugs? You’re on your own.
Future plans for the South Virginia Corridor include greater emphasis on facilitating more pedestrian-friendly walkways, public spaces featuring art installations, fountains, and benches, and street-scaping. Gentrification may not always be welcome, but for Reno, it’s the start of a whole new Big Little City.
If guidebook writers even bother to mention Guatemala‘s Semuc Champey, they rarely offer more than a teaser. The cascading pools of turquoise and emerald are often looked over in favor of the many other places worth venturing on the Guatemalan map, among them the ruins of Tikal, the colonial city of Antigua and the volcano-ringed Lake Atitlán.
I should know: I was an editor of one of those guidebooks. After reading the short description of Semuc Champey over (and over… and over…) something about it aroused my curiosity. So when I embarked on a 10-day trip from Guatemala City to Belize City, I made sure Semuc Champey was on the itinerary – even if it was a little out of the way. Now that I’ve been there and back, I can tell you it was well worth the extra effort and the few extra bumps in the road.
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The Road to Somewhere
Although it was technically in the opposite direction of our route, we had taken a short sojourn to Lake Atitlán for a night. That meant in order to get to Lanquín, the small town that acts as a jumping-off point for Semuc Champey, we would have to spend nearly an entire day in the car.
After backtracking through the smoggy Guatemalan capital where we had landed a few days prior, our car endlessly wound up and up through the mountains. The trip would have likely taken half as long if we weren’t forced to slow down every few hundred yards to drive over speed bumps, many of which seemed manmade by local villagers in order to force cars not to be so lead-footed when passing through. Just after dusk we passed through Cobán, the capital of the Alta Verapaz department, one of 22 departments that make up the country – similar to states or provinces.
By that time it was dark – and raining – making the trip seem even more treacherous. As the city lights disappeared behind us, a thick layer of fog surrounded us ahead. In this part of Guatemala, a fine-misted rain falls from the sky constantly during the rainy season. Locals call it “chipi chipi.” It seems as though everyone is quite used to the continuous rainfall; many people were walking and riding bikes along the side of the road. As someone unfamiliar with what lay beyond the pavement, my mind couldn’t help but wonder where the people our headlights shined on lived and how often they had to make this trek during a downpour. Our driver, for one, seemed unfazed.
The roads remained paved until about six miles before you reach Lanquín, when cars and buses take, quite literally, a downward spiral on a rocky road into the jungle. It’s bumpy and overgrown, making the pesky speed bumps we had to travel over to get to this point seem like child’s play. As we bounced down the road, I couldn’t help but think this place would make the perfect setting for a horror movie.
We made it to the tiny town of Lanquín and some locals helped direct us to our hostel, Zephyr Lodge. We checked in just as the nightly party hit its crescendo. For better or for worse we joined in, knowing that we had to get up bright and early to stay on schedule and get to Semuc Champey.
The next morning things started off a little rocky. It seemed our travels weren’t quite over: we still needed to spend a half hour standing with a bunch of other hostel-goers in the back of a pickup truck as it climbed at near-impossible angles up dirt roads to Semuc Champey National Park. Before we set off, our tour guide made a pit stop in town to get candles, an important part of the first adventure at this park – exploring a cave by candlelight.
Through the Cave
Not long ago I had “explored” Luray Caverns in Virginia, where visitors walk on manmade pathways through several well-lit chambers. I knew the cave near Semuc Champey would probably not be such an easygoing, accessible experience, but I wasn’t expecting the serious challenge that lay ahead.
Outside of the entrance to the cave, our guide instructed us to strip to our skivvies and leave our cameras behind, as we would be climbing and swimming through multiple underground chambers. The guide, who wore a headlamp and board shorts, didn’t say much else, but handed us each a lit candle as we entered the cave.
We were the first group to walk into the cave that morning. As we entered the first chamber, a few bats took the opportunity to leave, flapping their wings over our heads. As I watched the entrance to the cave disappear behind us, it became clear that the candles would be the only thing keeping us from being enveloped in total darkness.
What started as an easy hike through the cave soon turned into some difficult maneuvering. Not only did we scale walls and climb up and over waterfalls, but at some points we needed to hold our candle above our head with one arm and use the other to swim through dark waters where our feet no longer touched the ground.
We moved through the cave until reaching a waterfall that some daring people climbed and jumped off of. Our guide took a final leap into the water, and to our surprise, didn’t surface. At first some of us giggled, but after awhile we started looking at each other nervously. Was he just playing a joke? If he was, how long could he possibly stay under water? Just as someone stepped forward to jump into the dark pool of water to rescue him, we heard a scream behind us. It was our guide, who seemingly knew about some sort of underground tunnel and played this joke whenever he took visitors on tours. I was relieved, but as we turned back I felt a little daunted at the prospect of going back through the cave – which seemed more like an obstacle course.
In the end, I was happy our guide had not briefed us on any further details before we entered the cave. Otherwise, I probably would have let all the others go ahead while I waited outside. Instead, the group mentality pushed me to continue no matter how challenging the task or how claustrophobic I felt. And let me tell you: finally seeing the outside light filter through the cave was a great feeling. It had only been a little over an hour, but it seemed like we had been underground for much longer. Little did I know, this was only the first obstacle we would face.
Finally: Semuc Champey
So what is Semuc Champey, exactly? It takes a steep climb to a lookout to find out. Our guide (smartly) told us to follow the path up, enjoy our lunch at the lookout, and then meet him at the bottom. A few minutes into the climb – which, by the way, is labeled “difficult” on a signpost – we were out or breath and cursing his name. But we forged ahead until finally reaching a wooden overhang on the side of a mountain.
From the edge, you could see it: a river cuts through a dense forest, but instead of running water there is a 300-meter-long limestone overpass made up of a series of pools. These baths are filled with runoff from the Río Cahabón, and many are connected to one another by small waterfalls. The river here still flows under the limestone bridge, and emerges downstream.
We ate our lunches in silence, staring blankly at the beauty in front of us. After we climbed back down (this time, there were stairs!), we reached the placid pools of cool water. The day’s challenges were well worth the reward, and we spent the next few hours splashing around in the cool, clear waters. Our guide showed us some spots where waterfalls formed natural slides, and also some great jumping-off points. It was kind of like a water park, except minus the crowds and concrete. When it came time to leave, none of us wanted to stop enjoying the sunshine – but our stomachs were grumbling and our ride was leaving, so off we went.
Although it is far from being overrun with tourists, I should note that travelers do go to Semuc Champey. Usually the ones who are moving slowly, spreading their experience out over weeks or even months and saving money by renting beds at hostels. They are also usually in good health, and are more than willing to climb the grueling 20-minute hike and go caving by candlelight. Of course, these are just generalizations – but they also give clues as to why Semuc Champey has remained more remote than other destinations throughout the country.
[Photo credits: Top photo by Kacy McAllister. Gallery images by Libby Zay]
The calendar may still say 2012, and I know we all have a busy holiday season to navigate yet, but it is never too early to start planning our trips for the new year ahead. To help us out with that process, Discovery Adventures has announced a host of new tours and destinations, adding even more depth to an existing line-up of stellar itineraries.
For 2013, Discovery has unveiled 13 new tours to 11 new countries, offering diverse and unique experiences in some of the most amazing places on the planet. Those new destinations include Malaysia, Bhutan, Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic, Hungary, Iceland, Colombia, Chile, Israel and Singapore. The trips are designed to immerse travelers in the local culture and provide opportunities that aren’t easily found anywhere else. For instance, on the new Moroccan Dreams itinerary, visitors will camp in the desert and explore remote mountain villages, while the Malaysia & Borneo Adventure will provide contrasts between the bustling urban settings of Kuala Lumpur with the tranquil and serene rainforest. Other options include a visit to Iceland‘s lava fields, learning to cook in India and searching for the Big Five on safari in Kenya and Tanzania.
As the travel arm for the very popular Discovery Channel, Discovery Adventures feels that it has an outstanding reputation to live up to. That’s why the company is so selective about the destinations and tours that it offers. These new additions to their catalog bring the total number of trips to just 34, which is in sharp contrast to some other companies that offer dozens of options.
Their commitment to providing high quality tours for their guests doesn’t end there, however, as the company has also announced a new policy that guarantees that 100% of its trips will depart as scheduled. The new policy begins in January of next year and ensures that clients will be able to both book, and travel, with confidence.
I do not like zoos. I have no ideological problem with them, but every time I bring my children to a zoo, I feel drained – financially, physically and mentally – by the time we’re ready to leave. When my wife and I had the first of our two children in 2007, I don’t think I’d been to a zoo in more than 20 years.
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But since then, I’ve been coerced into visiting zoos in Chicago, Brookfield, Illinois, Washington, D.C., Reston, VA, Zurich, Toronto, Baraboo, Wisconsin and a host of other places. And this week, I somehow got roped into taking my children to not one but two zoos: the San Diego Zoo and the San Diego Zoo Safari Park in Escondido.
These are reputed to be two of the best zoos in the world, but they’re also huge places that you can’t very well just duck into for a quick visit. Other than placating my sons, ages 3 and 5, my goal for the visits was to find out if these places were worthy of the hype and to determine if even a zoo-hater like me could be won over.
My first impression of the Safari Park was overwhelmingly positive. You walk into the place and there’s a beached old Land Rover parked on the side of a small hill, next to a rushing waterfall. Speakers pipe in cool, tribal African music and the lush, tropical surroundings make you feel like you’re in the Hollywood version of a jungle set.
I had a vague impression that we were going to have our butts carted all around the place in some sort of vehicle or cart, but that isn’t exactly how it works. With the regular general admission ticket ($44), you get a 25-minute ride on the Africa Tram Safari, but have to walk the rest of the place. But if you want to spend more, there is a dizzying array of more expensive safaris, ranging from the $84 cart safari to the $599 ultimate VIP safari. Only in America can you drop a few grand on a trip to the zoo, right?
We opted for the cheapest ticket and I thought the Africa tram ride was more than enough for our needs. It’s a narrated ride that is about as close to an African safari as you’ll get in the U.S. You can probably see many of the animals we saw – giraffes, lions, cheetahs, rhinos, antelope, zebras and others – in a lot of zoos, but here you’re seeing them in a huge open space that looks like a much more natural habitat. (But if you want to get very close to the animals, you need to go on one of the more expensive safaris.)
And what’s more, our guide, Doug, even took it upon himself to give us some tips on how to reduce our carbon footprint. (I’ll be sure to slow down on the highways, Doug, thanks for the suggestion.)
My favorite animal was Vila, a 55-year-old gorilla that’s a great, great, great grandma who is believed to be one of the oldest “known-age” gorillas in the world. My sons dragged us all over the 1,800-acre park in search of all their favorite animals too, and, while it was a bit exhausting, I loved the fact that there are a host of unpaved trails that make you feel as though you’re on a hike out in the woods.
It’s not a typical zoo vibe at all and I liked that. But you will definitely need to watch your wallet at the Safari Park. There are opportunities to blow cash everywhere – you can even pay $6 to cut the Africa Tram line. If you’re on a budget, definitely bring your own food and drinks. A fountain soda goes for $5.19, a cup of soup is more than $7 and all of the other food and beverage options are similarly overpriced.
The San Diego Zoo, located in beautiful Balboa Park, in the city of San Diego, is more of a typical zoo experience, only better. The grounds are lush and expansive and the variety of interesting animals from all over the world is pretty astonishing. Everyone loves the National Zoo in Washington, D.C., but there you can walk for miles and see only a handful of animals. At the San Diego Zoo, the variety of wildlife in a similar sized space is far more impressive but you don’t get the feeling that the animal enclosures are cramped either.
Like the Safari Park, there are a host of expensive tour options and expensive souvenirs and refreshments, but given the fact that it’s right in the city, as opposed to the Safari Park, which is in a much more quiet, somewhat remote area, there’s no reason why you can’t duck out to get a bite to eat or simply bring your own lunch.
The amazing thing about the San Diego Zoo is that it really is like a little trip around the world. We saw animals from all over the planet: komodo dragons from Indonesia, gorillas from Africa, pink flamingos from the Caribbean, an anaconda from South America, and crested porcupines from India to name just a handful. And I saw a whole host of animals I’d barely even heard of before: a mang mountain viper, a Bornea sun bear, a Manchurian brown bear, an Andean bear, a West African dwarf crocodile, an Andean Cock-of-the Rock birds, and assassin bugs to name just a few.
I also liked the descriptions and the attempts to humanize the animals. We sat and watched the six gorillas for some time and I though the descriptions of their personalities was spot on: Paul “The Player” was indeed “handsome, charismatic and playful,” as he laid on his back, spread eagle with his hands covering his eyes, Ndjia, “The Thinker” sat in Rodin’s “The Thinker” pose, and Frank “The Tank” was every bit the “strong, independent, playful” lad he was made out to be.
A few words of advice if you are going to be pushing children around this zoo at least part of the time. Go down Center Street and Park Way first toward the Pandas and Polar Bears because it’s a very long, steep hill. We did this part of the zoo last, when my kids were too tired to walk at all and I was exhausted pushing them in a stroller back up the hill to cap the day. And if your kids are as inquisitive as mine, don’t hand them the colorful map showing all the animals until you’re in the car ride going home.
My 5-year-old would see an image of an animal he liked -Porcupine! Zebra! Parrot! Bug house!- and then insist that we charge off to find that animal immediately, leaving me feeling a bit like Magellan looking for a spice route to the West Indies.
If you only have time to visit one zoo in the San Diego area, where you go depends on your preferences and where you’re staying. If you don’t want to stray outside the city limits, the zoo is the obvious choice. Those who want a more atypical experience and like the idea of seeing animals in a more natural habitat along hiking trails, trams or safaris should consider the Safari Park.
For sheer variety of animals, I’d go with the zoo – there are some 3,700 animals representing approximately 660 species in a 100-acre space, compared to about 2,600 animals representing about 300 species in an 1,800 acre space at the safari park. And the zoo has the advantage of free parking, though both of these places are worth visiting. Even if you hate zoos, like me.