May / June 2026 Cinqueterre

Cinque Terre I’ve been thinking about this hike for several years and it finally fit in with other plans. The scenery is ravishing, especially the little ridge-top villages (not part of the five) and the five that are mostly next to the ocean. The trails are uniformly tough, reflecting the steep, rocky terrain. They were all badly damaged by the heavy rain and flooding a few years ago, and it’s easy to see why they were impossible to repair fully. It’s hard to believe they farm on such steep slopes! Below the trail are vegetable gardens, olive orchards and, almost everywhere, lush vineyards, many planted in narrow strips of dirt between rock retaining walls. The local wines, product of these vineyards, are excellent. But I wouldn’t want to tend these vines or harvest the grapes – even hiking the trails above the vineyards is an exercise in (barely) controlled vertigo. It took me a couple of days to figure out the small (about 4 inches square) red and white blazes, which can be anywhere, and not always at the intersection, and learn to use “Bike With GPS” (which I found much more difficult and awkward by far than Gaia was before it was acquired and profitized by Outside. Even under corporate downgrading Gaia is still much better than Bike With GPS.) I was blessed with weather, lows in the 60s, highs mostly mid-70s, cooling breezes, a couple of cloudy days, no rain. After the first couple of hikes I realized that I really should have done this when I was first thinking about it, before aging started cutting into my speed, stamina, and endurance. After the second day’s hike I was beginning to wonder if these steep trails were going to simply kick my butt! There are relatively level sections, mostly packed dirt, sometimes partly covered with leaves, often partly paved. Pleasant walking, but getting up to and down from the ridges is steep and often badly eroded. It has been fun now but would have been a lot more fun 5 or 6 years ago, even three years ago, when I hiked 10 days in the Dolomites. I’m glad I got to do it now! The condition of the trails varies a lot. Some parts are paved with grooved concrete, including stairs, longer parts paved with stones, only a few of which are anywhere near flat, so even when on “paved” portions it is necessary to think carefully about almost every step. Many of the stones are black and polished by many shoes (I think they may be very low grade marble.) Unsurprisingly, given the steep terrain, erosion is a big problem, often leaving stairs and stair risers orphaned – either go around them or take huge steps up and down (two feet or even more). I’ve been asked if I was hiking alone. The answer is: like the most popular Gorge trails, it is impossible on the main trails of Cinque Terre to be alone for more than a few minutes. I took one trail back from my first day hike that differed from the recommended trail and didn’t see any other hikers for about two hours, but the crowds are entirely on the primary trails. The quality of this alternative trail was similar to the main trails, except it had no concrete, no pavement until a few broken and eroded stairs at the end, entering town. There are many songbirds in the forest and it was nice to hear them without the constant tourist chatter. I expected the paved parts and even some of the packed dirt stretches to be gravelly and slippery but was pleasantly surprised – in six days’ hiking I skidded on loose gravel only twice, both times for less than a foot. I wouldn’t want to do the rocky parts in wet weather. For a celiac, Italy is rather frustrating, and the section I was hiking more so. Menus are heavily weighted toward pizza and pasta, and meat and fish are usually breaded and fried. For anyone with a healthy gut it would be a gourmet banquet – great bread, frito misto and other breaded dishes including calimari, many varieties of pasta. I was able to have some great meals, but it took a lot of time scanning menus. The best seafood I found was a “warm seafood salad” – squid, octopus, and mussels chopped up with some celery and tomatoes, and a few salted olives that seemed a little out of place. In Porto Venera a few ristorantes also served grilled squid and grilled mixed seafood, both excellent. These options replaced frito misto, the fried mixture of fish I loved so much when I first had it in Venice many years ago. The gelato is consistently good, though some of the servers have shorted me on scoops (curling the gelato into a hollow ball). I found a gelateria with licorizia (the root is grown in this region) – a pasty tan color, an earthy flavor not as sharp as anise. A rare treat – I haven’t seen licorice or anise ice cream in the U.S. in 30 years. I brought a swimsuit with me but made the mistake of not bringing sandals or water shoes and a sunshirt to wear in the water. I could have worn a cotton T-shirt to protect my back from the sun but I wasn’t that motivated to join the crowd in the water. I had a rather amusing “Death in Venice” experience while watching people trying to ride surfboards on the two foot shore break (two of them managed to get a few short rides). I felt a light touch on my butt, looked around and a fortyish guy was walking away. A few minutes later he came back and struck up a conversation, pointing to the rocks by the breakwater: “Is that the end of the beach?” “Yes, I think it’s cliffs beyond.” “I heard there is a naked beach somewhere.” "I haven’t the slightest notion” -- and I walked away. I suppose a MAGA type would have felt compelled to deck the guy – but I’ve no sympathy with the MAGA concept of manhood – and that would be somebody else’s movie. The hotel in Levanto doesn’t serve breakfast until 7:45, which meant getting on the trail after it’s already warming up, and doing most of the hiking during the heat of the day. I was tempted to skip breakfast for an earlier start, but in this bread-centric culture it would be difficult to find an adequate substitute for the eggs, yogurt, ham, cheese, and fruit salad served by the hotel. Fortunately it doesn’t get hot enough to be a problem and there’s been a breeze most afternoons. I don’t think I’d want to do this in July or August. By day four my legs were beginning to get used to the steep climbs and descents. This was the day for hiking the central trail, the string of cliff-hugging villages of Cinque Terre itself. Going was slow and I stopped frequently to admire the views and find a dish of ice cream in one of the villages. The sixth day’s hike took me up to the top of a ridge , along the ridge top, and gradually down. The next to last kilometer clings to an almost sheer cliff, with several dicey rock-climbs both down and up, above sheer drops. Some of these were on well-polished stone outcrops. I was too busy negotiating the footing to take any pictures. That section of trail is not for vertigo sufferers. I was afraid it might continue along the next cliff but to my great relief it swings around the more gradual slope to the left. The descent into town was still quite steep. In the photo to the right two of the three islands can be seen behind the headland and its vertical cliff. The trail ends with a (typically steep and eroded) descent into Porto Venera (named after Venus, the goddess with a ruined temple at the far end of town). Apparently Lord Byron swam from this spot across the gulf to visit a friend. The bottom of the trail leads past what is apparently the remains of an medieval city wall, ending in a plaza in front of the old fort I walked around the small village for a while, took pictures of the church, then the next day caught a ferry for the small island a couple hundred meters away. The hike around the island was very much like all the other trails, less pavement, more packed dirt, but steep and badly eroded ascents and descents. A marble quarry that is apparently no longer used was an interesting feature at the far end of the island, and on the way back I got some excellent photos of Porto Venere itself. It would be easy to criticize the condition of the trails, but having done a lot of trail work myself it was apparent to me that repairing the flood damage and improving the ascent and descent would take a massive effort, and in places liberal use of dynamite. The trails are passable by any reasonably fit and competent hiker, the most vertiginous stretches could probably be avoided by long detours, and it makes for a very satisfying week of strenuous hikes interspersed with rambling walks through the narrow streets of ancient villages.

June 2026 Cave Art Sites in Spain

In May and early June 2026 I took New Scientist-sponsored tours of neolithic sites in Turkey and Mesolithic cave art sites in Spain, with a 5 day hike of Cinque Terre on the coast of Italy. Spain 2026 Tour of Cave Art sites in Spain The Guide, Beatriz, is loud, enthusiastic, and, like the guide in Turkey, deeply caring. The science expert, Emily Wilson, is a science-educated novelist and science writer, who previously worked on the staff of New Scientist as editor-in-chief. There was a total of 12 guests, all quite knowledgeable. I arrived too late for the first dinner and introductory lecture, checking into the hotel at 11 p.m. (the only direct flight from Milano), still steeped in the language and concepts of the metaphor conference. I was assigned one of the worst rooms in the hotel – one small window behind a curtain in the corner, opening out onto a dingy alley, dim lighting, obviously designed for the decrepit elderly (with a bathing chair in the walk-in shower, and a door stop next to the toilet – miraculously, in two days’ stay I managed to avoid stubbing my toe on that tripping hazard even when I got up in the night.) The room was so claustrophobic, dark and depressing that, during the hour-long “rest period” at the end of the first very long day, I had to take my laptop out and sit in the lobby. The caves El Pendo Cave. Very large chamber – was flat with a large opening to the daylight; roof collapsed covering several layers of occupancy dating back 80,000 years. Unfortunately visitors are not allowed to take any photos, even without flash. The back wall is covered with 19 drawings of animals, many of them incorporating features of the rock (bulges or cracks suggestive of an animal’s back or neck, with the rest of the shape either sketched or filled in by charcoal or mineral pigments (ochres), estimated dating 20,000-25,000 years ago. Some are very evident; the guide pointed to several others, helped us see the outline. Once a viewer’s eyes are trained on what to look for, most of these stand out. A few are so faint that they remained ambiguous. Several images of horses and deer, very elegantly done. One less realistic image believed to be human, not as elegant. It was quite cold (I’m wearing my jacket and beanie from now on!) but I could happily have spent another hour drinking it in. We were on a metal walkway – not allowed down on the jumbled rocks, partly for safety reasons, but also probably partly to keep tourists from breaking the rules and touching or photographing. We had to imagine looking up at them from the cave floor (now covered in a massive jumble of fallen rock.) Different periods of habitation are marked by layers of dark grey, charcoal from the wood fires, interspersed with brownish and reddish layers of mud and rock. The early stages, 80,000 BCE to about 45,000 BCE were inhabited by Neanderthals; from 40,000 BCE to the end of the ice age by Homo Sapiens – here they seem not to have overlapped. This cave apparently provided shelter; may also have served as a gathering place. Whether the art had other purposes beyond creative expression and decoration is uncertain; it is clear that the depicted animals were culturally significant, both food sources and some predators (lions). Most are so beautiful it is difficult to avoid supposing that we are looking at the work of prehistoric Michealangelos and Picassos. One of the group, Julie, had an attack of heart palpitations, had to be taken to the ER. While we were waiting around the guide suggested we could walk down to the village for coffee if we wished, so five of us se3t out. The sidewalk was paved with some odd little tiles, many of which had been pushed up by roots. I caught my toe on one of these and sprawled face down, landed on my right knee and elbow and, to protect face and head rolled over to my hip (into the edge of the roadway, apparently). I slightly skinned the elbow and knee (no blood) and badly bruised the hip and knee. The others, including the guide when she was told about it, wanted me to see a doctor, but it was apparent to me (after prodding the various wounded areas) that none of it was serious – just one more in a life-long series of tripping over unseen or unnoticed hazards. I walked without pain or limping, and the pain from the scrapes and bruises quickly faded. Santander Archaeological Museum. Among other attractions, they have a great collection of “portable art,” images mostly engraved on bones and bone fragments and found buried in the caves. I spent most of the hour we had before the museum closed at 2:00 p.m. examining these small objects. Some of the images were too faint to see clearly (they were all inside glass enclosures; the light in the room very dim). I discovered, once again, how much better the iPhone sees, so I took pictures of most of them. [The only time I’ve found to write this is on the bus on the way to the next site – very hard not to be distracted by the gorgeous scenery, green hills with farms and woods and small villages.) A few of the photos were spoiled (blurred or over-saturated with light) but most came out quite well. In several examples the artist incorporated features of the bone. I failed to photograph the explanatory labels but I believe they are from later than the art in the caves, possibly around 20,000 BCE or even later, near the end of the ice age. In the evening we enjoyed a feast, 8 courses spread over two hours. Great conversation and regional specialties I will probably never have again but I drank too much wine, ate too much food, and didn’t get to bed until 11, with an 8 a.m. departure. The mismatch of “dinnertime” cultures was a problem throughout the trip, as it so frequently is. I also woke up with pain in my knee and hip and had to get up to take some Motrin – should have known to take it before going to bed. When I woke up for good at six, the pain had not returned – and I handled the descents and ascents into caves without difficulty – Two 6 mg doses apparently did the trick. 2. El Pindo There are two sets of images 30 or 40 meters apart. They both have some abstractions – dots, vertical lines with attached blobs facing right. One has deer and a buffalo. Another seemed to me to be an image of a wild pig with the face formed of a projection from the wall – but the guide explained it as a deer, and indeed the head of a doe was also visible, in an upright position, disproportionately small. The buffalo had what appeared to be a spear embedded in its side. Farther along was an image of a mastodon, with the back and trunk quite clear, but legs and tusks less clear (even when the guide pointed to them I was unable to make them out.) This cave was once more accessible, and it suffered from some damage from people touching the stone (skin oils contain acids that attack the pigments.) For lunch I went with some of the others to a local café recommended by Beatriz, who helped me select two safe local specialties, a goat stew and a salad of shredded lettuce, olives, tomatoes and cubes of some local cheeses including one blue cheese. It was all good, but I skipped the potatoes and still managed to eat only 2/3 of the meat, leaving a long tough strand and the (probably delicate and tasty) morsels tucked in and around the knee joint. Tito Bustillo. This cave was discovered by a group of adolescents who found the small entrance remaining from a collapse of the original large cave entry – one of them died 3 weeks later in a different cave, so the cave was named after him. There are several galleries with important paintings, but many are restricted because of difficult access and to protect the art. We were able to visit only one gallery, considered the most important. It has several pictures of horses, including one identifiable as a breed of alpine horse – its presence suggests that the climate must have been quite cold at the time. There are also two pictures of deer, a stag and a doe. It took a while to identify all of these, but as usual once the guide pointed out the crucial outlines the fuller image became clear. The stag and one of the horses had faint lines in several places that made it difficult to see all the lines, but the others were clear, some immediately, some with a little study and others only after the crucial lines had been pointed out. One of the inaccessible chambers has several oval images with a line partway up the center, generally interpreted as a depiction of the female vulva. Others have other significant animals. Reproductions of these chambers are in the visitor center, which also contains some of the portable art and stone tools that have been found in the caves, as well as a video of a demonstration of techniques for flaking off bits of stone to create stone tools. The day ended with another dinner – with the start moved forward to 8:00 to accommodate us Anglo-Saxon wimps. (I was not the only member of the party used to eating at 6 or 7.) The Caves. Typically, entries were cut and expanded during the time when they were developed as major tourist attractions, and some steel / concrete staircases and walkways were built. But as the archaeologists came to realize how badly the tourists were damaging the art (touching it leaves skin oils and acids, People will take flash photos and even the CO2 from people’s breath damages the art. Consequently, the caves are all locked, access is restricted to a few people a day in small groups, and no photos at all are allowed – not even of the beautiful rock formations. Access to the deeper chambers is rough – hiking over uneven and sometimes slippery ground in near dark – and the newest chambers are closed entirely. They have built an imitation of Altimira, one of the best recently discovered caves, with meticulous reproductions of the art; I describe it later. Much of the art work is so faint that it is difficult to see. Often, once the guide used the laser pointer to trace even one line of an image, the entire image would pop into view, but sometimes the best I could do was see part of the animal – usually the head and sometimes the back or front legs. Many of the images are remarkably sophisticated in technique, but some are more like sketches. The artists used charcoal and minerals, iron oxide and other colored oxides, mixed with animal fats, and they worked by the light of burning animal fat with moss wicks. There is no evidence of soot in the deeper areas, indicating that they did not use torches or other wood or pitch fires. They must have worked by dim and flickering light. Many of the images are in places difficult to access; some are in quite high places, and these often use quite sophisticated perspective techniques so they look natural when viewed from below. Many of the paintings use features of the rock, suggesting that the artist first “saw” a buffalo or deer on the wall, a crack in the shape of an animal’s back or antlers, a bulge in the shape of a hind quarter or belly, and fill in the other details with charcoal, oxides, and sometimes by engraving lines into the rock. Santillana del Mar. Between cave visits and riding from one place to another on the bus we didn’t have much time to explore the charming little villages and ancient downtown areas but on the third day we had half a day in this little town, which features two streets lined with quite old houses, a 12th century monastery, convent and church. The monastery / church is guarded by two lions, made of limestone and so eroded by the frequent rains typical of this region that they are barely recognizable. I was also quite taken with a lifelike statue of a cow in a little cheese and dairy shop. During the colonial period, many residents of the town migrated to South America, most of them to Mexico. A few of these did well and returned home years later with substantial fortunes, bought or built fine houses and installed coats of arms high on the wall where it could be seen by all, evidence of their success. The one on the right is one of the larger. Several of these houses have been inhabited by members of the same family since colonial days. Art reproductions from the Altamira museum / site reproduction. The cave art varies in quality – some of the drawings and paintings have a very amateurish, almost childish quality, but many of the paintings are quite sophisticated in both conception and technique. Some images are daubed in as dots, some smeared on, as if by some kind of brush, and some take the forms of line drawings; many of them incorporate features of the rock – bulges and cracks. Some of the artists found a relatively flat wall to paint but many of the images, occupy panels interrupted by cracks and other features of the rock. It’s hard to be sure what the image to the right of the deer represents. Many of the less sophisticated images are done in an almost child-like style. Two horses in the museum are done in charcoal, in a more self-assured style, one in an interesting pose, head down and facing toward the rear. A second horse is outlined in charcoal with done in color, with reddish pigment inside; a bulge in the wall gives dimensionality to the upper neck. A similar effect is used in several of the bison paintings. Other artists achieved some very sophisticated effects with charcoal, often supplemented by a thin (or faded) wash of pigment. Many engraved images are also found, some worn away and quite faint but some well-defined and easy to read. There are not many images of humans, and those that have been found are often rather distorted and even grotesque. Everyone in the group was taken by the two on the next page, where the artist saw faces in the rock and used a few strokes of charcoal to bring them to life. On the final day, back in Bilbao, we visited the recently opened Guggenheim, part of Bilbao’s turn toward a tourism economy. There were several interesting exhibits; I was particularly taken with the work of 20th century sculptor Ruth Asawa. One of these is origami-style folded paper and the other is made with a single strand of wire. The group

Zambia: South Luangwa National Park

First day started out well (after a night of good sleep, interrupted intermittently by Hippo snorts and grunts). Pleasant slightly cool morning, chef made good GF muffins and French Toast for me, plus a dish of fruit made a nice breakfast. In a moving car I needed a jacket, but when it stopped I was too warm. We started out watching some of the multitude of hippos in this river, most back in the water as the sun came up; also saw Cape buffalo and a couple of leopards – they’re much more common here than in Botswana. Waterbuck are also plentiful; this is a particularly nice one close enough for a good photo, near a small waterhole with several of these colorful storks and a juvenile crocodile, maybe 6 feet long. A herd of elephants were parading toward a waterhole so we drove there and took a number of nice photos and a couple videos of the elephants drinking. We had a bit of excitement a little later; came across this mama elephant and her half-grown calf, along with another couple of elephants and these impala. Shadrack (my guide / driver) decided that we should take a closer look at the cow and calf, so he drove on to the road behind them, drove up to the point where we had a good view and stopped the vehicle. Mama elephant did not appreciate our presence that close to her baby; she gave a loud trumpet and charged. Leonard (the park service guard with us) raised his gun (to shoot in the air to scare her off, not to shoot the elephant) but she stopped less than 10 feet from the car, swayed, flapped her ears at us, and glowered for a minute or two then turned and ambled on away from us. My heart rate picked up a bit, and I didn’t get a picture (or a recording of her trumpet) – too busy scooting to the far side of the vehicle. We saw one more new animal, a local variety of giraffe, shorter neck and legs than the ones in Botswana, and darker color (Shadrack says that’s a sign of age.) The morning concluded with a brunch picnic in the shade of some trees next to the river. Apparently they get a lot of British clients, since brunch was “Full English Breakfast” – I would have far preferred something lighter focused around fruit and cheese rather than beans and fried mushrooms! Both for lunch and for dinner, they had 3 meats, 3 starches (all with plenty for seconds) and one each of vegetable and salad (with not enough for more than a small serving). Now I am sitting on my deck listening to birds and watching a kingfisher (I think) catch and eat minnows. This is winter in Zambia; nights get cold enough to need a jacket, days only a little hot, for a couple of hours in the afternoon. On my deck, In the evening we went for an informative walk, then drove to an open area by a river with a number of hippos in it and elephants on the far bank for a “sundowner: -- gin and tonic, with some sausages. (I am really getting overdosed on meat – spoke to the hostess about it; she promised to talk to the chef.) After the cocktail hour, we drove through a lovely sunset meadow; I took a few pictures, one of which nicely captures the mood. Golden light, impala and yellow baboons feeding in the meadow. As it was approaching dark, we spotted a leopard, stopped to watch it. It was obviously eying a herd of impala a few hundred meters across the meadow. The light wasn’t good enough for pictures, but with the help of Aubrey’s (the spotter) spotlight, I got these pictures of the leopard stretching and setting off back into the woods. Shadrack was confident the leopard was going to circle around through the woods and try to get one of the impala, so we circled around for a bit, trying to get in front of him; found him again, watched him stalk the impalas, drove out to the herd to be in position to watch the attack if he attempted it (by now it was totally dark). The impala only glanced at us and were all looking intently in the direction of the leopard. After another half hour or so Shadrack decided there was not going to be any action that night, and we went back to camp, where I changed into clean clothes for dinner. Again three meats, all bbq, chicken, think pork chops, and beef steaks, some small thin-walled half squashes (about 1 or 1.5 tablespoon of flesh in each), a cornmeal dish eaten by the natives, and a skimpy bowl of cole slaw, about enough for a large tablespoonful apiece. Instead of taking all the meat up when it was done, they waited to serve it directly from the grill so the pork steak in particular was overcooked and dry. (I only had that and the chicken.) For dessert they served everybody but me what looked like either cheesecake or some kind of custard pie; they set a small green apple on a plate in front of me. It pissed me off and I almost got up and left it there and went back to my room but I didn’t want to spoil the evening for the others, so I cut it up and ate it without comment. I did speak to the hostess this morning; today’s lunch was a vast improvement, cold ham & pineapple, a nice cucumber and avocado dish, oven fry potatoes, rice, and a large salad (at last!) We’ll see what happens at dinner.

Catching Up

Catching up… I’ve fallen behind in postings, largely due to time pressures connected to the Eagle Creek fire (in the Columbia Gorge, September 2017), COVID, moving to Willamette View in 2020, and deciding to retire in 2024). I haven’t done many back-packing trips since 2017 but I’ve done a lot of hiking, some river rafting, and several more international trips. President’ Trump’s continuing attack on the institutions, norms, and practices that sustain our democracy have also precipitated considerable distress that requires a constant effort to fight off depression. In spring, several major events occurred. As a result of preparing to enjoy Portland Symphony’s performance of Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major, which I hadn’t heard in several years, I went online to listen to a performance of it, discovered Yuja Wang, and became a devoted fan. Our most recent trip was a visit to Denver (during a heat wave, alas) to hear her perform Barber’s Piano Concerto at Boulder’s Chautauqua Center. An earlier trip together took us to San Antonio, where a conversation with a high school music teacher, who was playing his violin on a street corner near our hotel. He assured me that I’m not too old to learn to play an instrument – so I have been studying piano with LaJean’s guidance ever since. July 17-21, 2026. We flew to Denver, rented a car, and drove to a small motel in Boulder where we checked in. After freshening up a bit we drove to Chautauqua Park, where we had to park a half mile from the auditorium. We made it to the auditorium and met our friends Kristella and Matt in time to have a quick drink in the restaurant before entering and taking our seats, just a few rows back, close enough to watch Wang play. I find her facial expressions while she plays particularly fascinating. The performance was as good as we thought it would be and, true to her custom, she rewarded the standing ovation with three encores (something I had never before experienced). For a complete account of the performance see https://seenandheard-international.com/2026/07/yuja-wang-and-the-colorado-music-festival-orchestra-deliver-a-stunning-barber-piano-concerto/. The next day we rose early and drove to Estes Park to get into Rocky Mountain National Park before 9 a.m., when entry begins to be limited to those with advance reservations. After breakfast in a local eatery we joined a half-mile line of cars, but still made it through the gate with time to spare. (Many sincere thanks to the efficient park rangers!) LaJean saw the park several years ago when she was in Denver for a conference but this was my first visit. Unfortunately, the heat (topping out in the mid-80s) combined with the 8-9,000 foot elevation to sap our energy, and we did only a couple of miles of walking, in three different stops. We drove to the 11,000 foot pass hoping to stop at the visitor center but the parking lot was full and entry closed. I enjoyed the scenery but LaJean had her eyes tightly closed most of the time. Much of the road hugs a cliff with a drop as much as a thousand feet, in some places on both sides of the road. We finished the evening with a rather late dinner at the restaurant – excellent food (we had braised buffalo rib) but I’ve never seen a restaurant so poorly organized. The second day we drove south to Red Rocks Amphitheater and Park. LaJean found the sun too intense and hot to walk on the only trail that didn’t hug a cliff face but I enjoyed a 2 mile hike, plus climbing the stairs to the amphitheater, which is truly spectacular. I hope some day I will have a chance to see & hear a performance there. After the park we drove into Denver, left the car at the B&B and took an Uber to Meow Wolf, where we spend 2 ½ hours. It is a fascinating place, with 5 stories, multiple rooms of various sizes organized around a central open area, and art of all sizes and shapes (much of it whimsical) tucked away. I’m sure I missed several of the little hidden rooms. We met Kristella and Matt for dinner at the Longhorn Exchange, which LaJean loves for its focus on game. LaJean and I shared an order of elk, buffalo prime rib, and quail (it was too much – I regretted not just sticking with the prime rib). We ordered before dinner drinks but my gin and tonic was almost pure gin, served in a highball glass, so I requested more tonic, but the main course came before I had drunk much of it – very poor service given the cost of the place! The meat was quite good but both salad and vegetables were ordinary, maybe a bit below ordinary. The server was rushed, slightly rude, and quite annoying. I don’t think I’d go back. To dodge the heat on the third day we visited the Botanical Garden, as marvelous as Meow Wolf, though in very different ways. They have placed contemporary statues and other art throughout the park in ways that the plantings and art reinforce each other. From there we went to the Capitol Mall / Art district and hid out in the art museum, where we focused our attention on (mostly contemporary) aboriginal artworks. We will probably go back to Denver – but not in the summer! The only reason we went this July was to satisfy our desire to see Yuja Wang in person, and that was worth the trip.

Representation and reality

I am reading an interesting book (just published) by Andy Clark, “The Experience Machine….” about the now well-established fact that our perception works by predicting continuity and transmitting only to correct prediction errors – and then only what is currently relevant, because of limited band-width. One fact I didn’t know and one I knew but didn’t connect before. There are +/- 4 times as many neural circuits from brain to perceptual organs as from perception to brain. Aha! Explains a lot. And – broadcast engineers greatly increase capacity by using the same assumption. My first publication was a critique of naïve attempts to apply information theory to human communication (and my first book an expansion of that critique) but I failed to see how that one wholly justified and useful application of Information Theory might apply to human perception and conversation. (So did everybody else at the time.) From another interesting book, Enfield “The Way We Talk”: It takes a half second to understand an utterance and a half second to formulate a reply – painfully long - so keep conversation moving, we all maintain a representation of the conversation and use it to predict what the current speaker will say and when they will finish – and to maintain and constantly up-date our potential replies, so we can jump in as soon as they finish. If they surprise us, “um” or “uh” or an equivalent will hold the floor while we re-formulate the (erroneously) prepared reply. We live and act in a world we imagine, partially (as relevant) updated by our limited-capacity senses. Because our brains and neural circuits are slow, we experience the past and act in the future. I’m not sure what we mean, then, by “the present.”

Hiking in Switzerland

Hiking in Switzerland
The plane from Madagascar to Paris flew almost directly over the route I will be hiking; looking down I noticed the high passes still seemed to have quite a bit of snow on them Alpine Hikers told me most of the passes are clear enough for safe passage, but one might be impassible – however, with two weeks before I reach it they thought it might clear.
The trip from Berlin to the first stop, Schwarzwaldalp hotel, was uneventful – beautiful scenery, a very slow bus up the mountain that cost an astounding 27 Swiss Franks for a 40 minute ride. The road from Meiringen is very steep and very narrow – like a Forest Service road with good pavement; whenever two vehicles meet one has to pull almost completely off the road and stop; sometimes one has to back up a ways to come to a suitably wide spot. The drop-off is steep enough to be rather scary for much of the journey. Schwarzwaldenalp is set in a virtual pasture, a green meadow that leads up to a modest but steep and rocky hill. It has the qualities of a rustic ski cabin – my room is so small it was very challenging to sort out my belongings and separate what goes in the suitcase with the transfer driver and what I carry in my backpack. Dinner was quite good, and ended with a lovely fruit salad topped with sorbet made from black currents – definitely something I want to repeat.
Slept well – there is a small but very steep and noisy stream not far from my window – that and the sound of cow bells were lovely. Cow bells accompanied me all the way up to the pass and along the high path, across two gondola paths to a clear mountain lake, then down to Grindle… At first the sky was quite cloudy – but as I neared the top of the pass enough of the clouds cleared that I had gorgeous views of several famous mountains including Eiger and Jungfrau. They played hide and seek behind the clouds most of the day; otherwise it was a lovely walk, wildflowers everywhere, warm enough that I finally unzipped the legs of my hiking pants to turn them into shorts.

Thursday, July 7
My room in Grindelwald was very nice – had a balcony with a good view of one of the mountains.
Today dawned warm and sunny – great day for a hike. At the advice of Alpinhikers I took a train up to Alpiglen – 2000 feet above the valley floor – to start the hike there. The train is narrow gauge, driven by a cogwheel that engages a center ratchet rail. It was packed with tourists – not one of whom got off with me at Alpiglen. Also at the advice of Alpinehikers I took the Eiger Trail – it switch-backs steeply up at least 1500 feet, then continues to climb slightly less steeply toward the base of the Eiger Face, which it parallels for a mile or so, just beneath where it gets vertical. Spectacular views – although from that bottom perspective it doesn’t look nearly as high as it actually is.
Following the directions, and not realizing until too late that an alternate trail provides a potential shortcut, I walked down to the pass, Klein Scheidegg, where my way to the recommended alternate trail (across the railroad tracks and down) was blocked by several hundred tourists queueing up to pay $50 or so to ride up to the restaurant on a shoulder of Jungfrau – tour guides were guarding the only passage through the fence, and I had to shoulder my way to the front and pretend I was part of a group from India to get through the gate and cross the tracks. That having been accomplished, it was a very nice hike through woods and meadows, with many spectacular mountain views along the way. It ended with a steep descent, over 1500 feet, to the level of Wengen, which is a small tourist village perched on the edge of a glacial valley, about 1600 feet up from the valley floor. (That descent is how I will start my day tomorrow.)

Saturday, July 9. My knee was not happy with that steep descent, so I decided to take the train down to Lauterbrunnen and walk from there. I also bought a knee brace, and dosed myself liberally with motrin. All that worked – my knee actually felt better when I reached Obersteinberg. They day was somewhat cloudy, but quite pleasant for the walk. For the first couple of hours the peace and bird-song was disrupted every half hour by helicopter racket, but as I entered the upper part of the valley that faded, leaving only bird song and cow-bells. The valley is a typical U-shaped glacial valley, close to 2000 feet deep, with sheer walls and frequent waterfalls, many of which would dwarf Multnomah Falls.
Eventually I headed up the very steep – but well-maintained – trail to the top of the canyon, where the pastures are merely steep, not vertical. (I feel certain Heidi did not suffer from acrophobia!) As soon as I broke out of the forest I found myself sitting in a meadow with a spectacular view of one of the Tschinglehorn, beyond the end of the valley. It was a lovely, idyllic place to have lunch and rest my feet. After a half hour, I continued on – the trail still had close to 500 feet to climb to get to the level of the family farm / mountain inns that line up along the top of the canyon. Steep-sloped (if they had snow on them I wouldn’t ski down them) lovely meadows with cows and sheep, frequent barns… Finally my trail joined the main trail, shortly before hotel Tschingelhorn, where several hikers were enjoying drinks and lunch on a lovely terrace. Unfortunately, lunch tends to be sandwich and pizza, and I can’t drink the beer, which is what I really want. Another 45 minutes through meadows (some almost level, although 20-100 meters back the meadow slopes steeply uphill toward a spine of sheer rock 800 feet above the trail.) I finally came to Obersteinberg, a rustic, mostly stone two story farmhouse/hotel that dates to the beginning of the 20th century and boasts a fantastic view.
I had an apfelsaft – carbonated apple juice, closest thing to a beer I could think of, checked in, the walked back along the trail a ways to a semi-secluded little meadow on the edge of the steep drop-off, where I napped for a while, then did some pushups and stretches and wandered back. Eventually I realized that the trail continues on along a more or less level stretch toward the end of the valley so I followed it for 35 minutes, past the end of the glacial valley, a box-canyon actually that ends abruptly in a wall of 1000 foot cliffs. Another half hour would have taken me to a small glacial lake at the foot of a glacier, but I had waited too late, and my knee didn’t want to climb the final 150 feet or so.
Dinner was rather odd. The innkeeper assigned tables – instead of putting me in one of the empty seats next to a window (I guess she thought the couples seated at all the window tables would not want an intruder) she stuck me with a family of four women and two young boys. She served a salad of simple lettuce leaves – good but plain – then brought the main course; rice and a kind of meat stew for everyone else, a plate full of crisp but somewhat oily hash browns for me, with one fried egg and two very thin tomato slices on top. I asked her if I would have any meat and she explained that the sauce had flour in it so I couldn’t eat it. It apparently never occurred to her to hold back a half pound of the meat and just fry it in a frying pan. No dessert, fruit, or anything.
Breakfast was downright skimpy – bread for everyone else, three rounds of puffed-oat cakes with jam for me, one small piece of cheese apiece for everyone – about an inch by two inches by a quarter inch. That was supposed to sustain us through 10-12 mile hikes. Fortunately I carried lots of snack food! I have mixed feelings about Obersteinberg. It is a neat, historic old inn, in a spectacular location, easy to find solitude and absolute quiet (except for songbirds and cow bells). However, the innkeeper made absolutely no attempt to accommodate my dietary needs – cooking my portion of meat without sauce could not have been that great a challenge.
The day broke clear and beautiful today, so I took the high route, up to the foot of the huge rocks that line the ridge. It was rather vertiginous – a somewhat narrow trail cut into the side of a hill so steep it would qualify as a cliff if it did not have grass and flowers growing out of it – don’t dare turn an ankle or stumble, because it wasn’t self-evident that you’d be able to stop from rolling or sliding down and over the cliffs below. The view is spectacular, but I didn’t look at it until, a mile and a half along, I came to a place where the slope eased off and the risk of a fall slighter. Then I came to a trail that leads up a very steep slope to an almost level flower-strewn meadow, 700 foot climb but stunning both for the mountain scenery and for the flowers. I sat there for a half hour, ate the one fruit-nut bar I’d carried up, then slowly ambled back down to where I’d left my pack, sitting down to enjoy and photograph the flowers in several spots along the way.
The rest of the trail wound along through meadows and finally ended a wooded area, where it turns steeply down – and becomes gravelly and treacherous. Fortunately it is not so steep that you can’t take really short steps, which reduces the strain on knees and other joints. Still, nearly an hour later, I was glad to be off it and back on a (relentlessly) sloping upward gravel road that leads to Murren. Along the way I saw farmers out in the steep meadow, recently cut, where they were turning the hay by pitchfork (much too steep for any farm machinery, I think). I also saw several meadows filled with triangular structures about six feet high, a post sunk in the ground with two other posts bracing it – these are placed there to slow the movement of snow down the slippery grassy slope and reduce avalanche risk. I had wondered about avalanche – I can’t see how snow could ever not slide down those slopes, and apparently they get 7-10 feet a year.

Sunday July 10
This second day in Murren was scheduled to be a take it easy, rest up day – a nice hike on the bench above Murren laid out. Beautiful weather; I started out at a nice stroll, stopping to take pictures even though the sun was still on the wrong side of most of the mountains. Around 11 I came to a junction with a trail that led rather steeply up toward a ridge; I didn’t know if I wanted to work hard enough to go clear up but decided to see. I headed up, and after thirty minutes, about halfway to the ridge, came to a level grassy meadow, containing the bottom of a ski lift. I decided that was high enough for a take it easy day, so took off my shoes, put sun block on my feet, and spent a very nice hour and a half – ate some snacks, did some stretching exercises, took a half nap (head propped up so I could see the mountains across the canyon – principally, Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau. A few other people exerted enough effort to get to that idyllic place, but we spaced ourselves out enough for a feeling of true solitude.
Other highlights of the day: coming upon a herd of cows all jingling their bells; a symphony of bells with Eiger in the background. Lots of lovely flowers. Loitering long enough to get a photo of Eiger with at least some sun on the north face (not visible from Murren). Low-lights: a biting bee-like insect (it left huge patches of blood) forcing me to zip my long pant legs back on and spray with bug repellant. Coming across a youngish woman who had fainted in the trail – several people were with her, shading her from the sun while the medics arrived by helicopter – and I assume took her away. Someone said heat – although it was not a particularly hot day. But if she’s not used to high altitude and has not been drinking enough water (and eating enough salt), dehydration is certainly a possibility. I haven’t heard if she was all right. Otherwise it was a lovely, peaceful day – and I’m optimistic about the weather for tomorrow.


Tuesday, July 12
My luck held just a little longer – yesterday dawned clear, warm, and lovely. I was able to get breakfast at a quarter to seven and head up the road before 8. The trail climbs steadily until it reaches the end of the ridge, where it goes up what seems to be about 800 feet of switchbacks – then it runs almost horizontally for a mile or two, across a steep meadow to Rotstuck Hut, a café and guesthouse located almost at the end of the canyon, at the foot of the Sefinenfurke pass (sort of like the Last Homely House). The predicted clouds had not yet begun to form, but I still wanted to get up over the pass as early as possible, so I went on ahead. Along the way, at one of the many fence crossings I overtook a couple of young me (Germans or Swiss, I’m not sure) who paused, I think studying their map, while I walked on ahead. I also passed an older man, who didn’t appear too happy about the sudden steepening of the trail. I never saw him again – I don’t know if he gave up or if he eventually made it over the pass. By now the trail was quite steep again, winding among boulders until it came up to a shoulder with a good view of the pass itself. Still no clouds, so I stopped here to take off shoes and socks and let my feet have a rest while I had some water and a fruit-nut bar. Just as I was leaving the rest stop the two young Germans caught up with me – I think they also stopped there for a rest, because when I looked back a couple of turns later I didn’t see them. I came to a turn of the trail from which it was possible to see the entire pass and the trail leading up to it – it was obvious that a large snowfield still lay just below the pass, fairly steep and at least 100-150 meters in length. But I knew several hikers had successfully negotiated it so I pressed on.
When I reached the snowfield it was as steep as it looked – over 40%, steep enough that a person who slipped would likely slide all the way to the bottom – and possibly crash into the rocks at the bottom. On the other hand, the snow was soft on top – soft enough to dig in at least 3 inches with a good hard kick, and there were still depressions from previous hikers to kick into. Looking behind, I noticed the two young Germans had reached the bend from which the snow-field was visible. Apparently they were waiting to see if I made it before coming any farther.
I climbed up almost to where somebody had strung a rope from the pass; the snow got steeper, and a little harder, but with a firm kick I could still get a pretty adequate toe-hold, so I proceeded to climb up to the rope, which I used for a while – I’m not sure how much it helped, though. Another 20 meters and I came to a section of rock the rope crossed, but it was pretty crumbly – looked like disintegrating shale, not good footing at all. So I stayed on the snow, and worked my way around the crumbly rock to an area that appeared to be part of a switchback on the (mostly buried by snow) trail. I pulled myself up onto it, and the footing seemed pretty solid, so I walked the remaining 20 or 30 meters to the pass. The young men were still watching from the curve in the trail. I sat down to rest and take a few pictures – thought about stopping for an early lunch but it was not even 10 – 3 hours after I left the inn. I did have another fruit-nut bar and take some pictures, including a picture looking back down the snow-field, with Eiger, Moengh, and Jungfrau in the background. Another hiker came up from the other side and we chatted a while, then both went our respective ways.
I was delighted to see the Swiss had built a long, very sturdy staircase up over the steepest and trickiest part – so I descended maybe 200 feet on a long, long series of stairs. Getting down through that crap would not have been fun.
The first part after the staircase section was still quite steep, not steep enough to be seriously dangerous but I still wouldn’t want to slide. Finally I came out of that broken rock to a reasonable meadow – not really flat, but flat enough that I could sit and take my shoes off to give my feet another rest – I also found a spot near enough to thistle-free that I could do a little badly-needed stretching.
The rest of the climb down from the pass was the normal Swiss hiking experience – a very steep descent through lovely (but almost vertical) meadows, with cowbells and bird-song. Although one weather site had been adamant that there would be a thunderstorm at 12:30, clouds didn’t even begin to form until I reached the Inn. After checking in and having an Apfelsaft (carbonated apple juice, almost as good as a cold beer would have been) I took a walk down to see the Wildwasserweg – an incredible place where the glacial melt (thick grey soup) has carved a narrow canyon through the limestone, so that a series of waterfalls are in a long sinuous crevasse / cave – very impressive. I took a few photos which I will upload to my photo-blog.
Finally, about dinner time it started to rain. then, about bed-time it started really storming. Because the weather stayed nice for so long, I had begun to entertain the hope that the forecast stormy spell might dissipate, but it was not to be. It stormed all night long, and I awoke this morning to dense fog and light rain. The rain stopped long enough that, along with an American couple who were also staying there, I got a nice walk down the Wildwasserweg to a village about 6 miles farther down the valley, where we caught a bus to the train station and a train to Kandersteg.
The weather forecast still calls for at least two more days of heavy rains, thunderstorm, and fog – as I sit in my hotel room in Kandersteg I can not even see the hill a quarter mile away. So I decided my hike over the Sefinenfurke pass would have to be the premature end of my Swiss adventure. The forecast for Amsterdam between now and my flight home is sunny and mid-70s; a lot more appealing than thunderstorms, heavy rain, highs around 40 and possible snow flurries.
I was disappointed to miss the last three days of the planned hike, particularly the Hohturli pass (9000 feet – not even to be considered in this weather). But it was a great adventure, a great series of hikes.

Madagascar

Madagascar
The day started with a 4 a.m. wakeup and a 6:55 flight to Diego Suarez. There we were greeted by our guide for the next 3+ days, who guided us past the customary airport pandemonium. We drove for close to three hours on a government route, most of which was full of potholes, some big enough to hide a VW beetle. We passed hundreds of small shacks, and passed through two different towns having their weekly market day / fair; streets jammed with people selling, buying, and just seeing their friends. All very colorful. Many of the shacks have vendor stalls in front, offering fruit, soft drinks, and green coconuts. We stopped at one and bought a coconut each – they shave it down to the nut, cut the end off so you can drink the mildly sweet juice. Then they whack it in half and cut a thin slice of the husk that you use to scoop out the thin layer of coconut flesh, still gelatinous inside the shell. It is quite a treat on a hot day. Here in the north of the country it is much warmer than in the central highlands – it felt like it must have reached close to 90 during the day.
We arrived at the resort area in time for lunch – a stir-fried vegetable dish, skewers of zebu, rice, and coconut chicken (like Thai curry but with very little spice). Then we picked up a spotter and headed for the Ankarana national park for animal and rock formation viewing. At the very entrance to the park we encountered a family of crowned lemurs feeding on a couple of fruit trees (African dates). We took some photos then walked on through a really nice tropical forest. Along the walk we saw three other species of lemur, tufted brown lemur, the closely related Sanford’s brown lemur, and the sportive lemur, a nocturnal animal who hides during the day – sometimes, fortunately, in view of our camera lenses. Some were pretty high in the trees and hard to see, but we were able to get quite close to others. One sportive lemur was hiding in a hole in the tree trunk, with only his head showing, but another clung, only partially hidden, in a half-hollowed spot about ten meters up the tree.
We also did some hiking through the limestone formation that forms a huge part of the park, called Tsingy – a sea of grey rock formations with sharp tops and weird formations that resulted from sulfuric acid rain after a volcano eruption about a million years ago.
The resort where we are staying is comfortable, a double and a single bed consisting of foam mattresses on a platform, nice and firm. It was quite warm but with the help of a fan we managed to sleep pretty well. Dinner was unexciting to say the least – I had rather stale tuna and Eric had unexceptional curried chicken. Wine was $11 for a pitcher that may have contained 2/3 liter, very poor quality and very expensive after the great wines we had in SA.
The second morning we went for a longer walk in the same area, but went further, to a hanging bridge across a canyon in the limestone formations that led to a nice overlook across an expanse of the rock. We saw more lemurs as well as a small pale snake and two gekkos, one green and one very dark, almost black. In the tsingy field we saw a couple of species of euphorbia, also poisonous. According to the guide lemurs can also eat the euphorbia as well as another plant that produces cyanide – researchers have not yet determined how they neutralize the poison or whether it protects them from parasites.
After lunch and a rest through the heat of the day we went to a different part of the park, where we watched a family of half tame lemurs at the edge of a big campground (unoccupied now but probably heavily occupied later in the season). Then we walked through the rain forest to a huge pit where we descended about 135 steps to the entrance to a fascinating limestone cave – lots of bats of three sizes, then deeper in the cave some lovely stalactites, stalagmites, and columns.
Dinner was quite a bit better the second night – shrimp in a nice oil and garlic sauce with rice, a tomato salad, and a fruit salad for dessert. By the end of the second day I had 269 pictures of lemurs – obviously some weeding will be required. They are lovely animals – in their behavior they remind me somewhat of a cross between a house cat and a small monkey. Lemurs are abundant in Ankarana National Park – the only real threat is criminals who sneak in to harvest hardwoods, and pressure to open the park to prospecting for sapphires, which have been found nearby. However, several NGOs are active in promoting alternative ways for local people to make a living without further incursions into the park.

On Thursday we drove to another park, in the rainforest atop a mountain overlooking Diego Garcia and the bay. It was considerably cooler up there, and quite muddy from several hours of rain in the morning. We walked through parts of the park Thursday afternoon and again Friday morning. In addition to several species of Gekko and Chameleon, all unique to this island, and some frog species unique to this island, we also saw a family of tufted brown lemurs in a large tree next to a picnic area, where they were feasting on the new tender leaves and flowers of the tree. They were so intent on their feeding that we were able to get quite close to them and took some nice pictures. The chameleons we saw included a representative of the smallest species in the world, a tiny fellow about an inch long. I have a picture of Eric holding it.
We stayed in a B&B, The Litchee Tree, that was a strange combination of elegance and Spartan bad design. It occupies an early 20th century French mansion with a sweeping view of the bay. Our room was large, with a large double bed and a single bed, all very cozy. The electricity was on only from 5:30 p.m. until 10:30, and there was not a single plug in the room for recharging camera or cell phone batteries. The bathroom had a lovely pottery sink - and no place to put soap in the shower. The owner ranted so much about tourists wanting wifi that Eric didn’t even ask about it. Dinner was quite good – a simple but elegant frittata followed by a delicious fruit salad. However, the wine list was on the ultra-high side; the cheapest bottle in the rack was over $35.00 (we had become used to excellent wines in South Africa for $5-6.) Very odd place; I don’t know I could recommend it.
Finally on Friday we drove back to Diego Garcia where we had a great lunch in a posh hotel – both of us dressed in our muddy hiking clothes. A great crab salad, different from what I expected – potato and other vegetables instead of lettuce, followed by squid strips sautéed and served with some mixed sautéed vegetables. All very good. Then we were taken to the airport for the flight back to Tana.

A word about the countryside. I have already written about the terrible roads. People live along the roads in small villages and a couple of larger towns, mostly in quite small unpainted shacks. All along the road are little stands, often just a table with a makeshift roof of boards or palm leaves. Some sell soft drinks, some sell fruit – maybe two or three kinds, or just green coconuts which they chop off for you to drink the juice. Many sell bottles of lemons or other food pickled in lemon juice. In the towns, these little stands line the streets, with different wares – cloth, rope laid out in long lines for inspection, meat, various garden produce, live chickens, light hardware. We drove through on a market day when two of the larger villages were filled with people, most of them dressed in their finest clothing. Some of the young women were wearing jeans and t-shirts, but some were wearing lovely African print skirts. Our guide, Simon, explained that these are mostly married women, who are expected to dress more elegantly and traditionally. On special days they choose skirts with sayings that match the mood of the day – happy sayings for a wedding or festival, somber sayings for a funeral. Everywhere you see women, and some men, carrying surprisingly large and heavy loads on their heads. The women in particular, almost all the women of any age, seem to have a well-developed sense of style and elegance in their dress and carriage.
In Diego Garcia, you see many men on foot pulling rickshaws and rickshaw-like wagons loaded with freight. You see oxcarts everywhere – more in the countryside, but some in the city as well. You also see groups of peoples sitting more or less idly in front of shops and houses everywhere, city and country – the unemployment rate is quite high, and most people get by with a series of brief jobs, and by selling whatever they can to each other. Our guide talked quite freely – if discreetly – about the corruption which is a drag on the entire society. It is apparent that the owners of vehicles who use the roads for commerce would save enough money on repairs to pay for fixing and paving the roads – but Simon says that they would be unlikely to find anyone they could trust to give the money to, so everyone evades whatever taxes there are.

It rained most of the way to the highlands, eased off once we arrived at the resort, then rained again. The highway is much better maintained than the one we drove on in the north – this highway connects the capital with the major seaport, on the other side of the island, so more money is spent on maintenance.
We had lunch on the veranda between bouts of rain – fairly good shrimp salad and a meat dish.
We checked in to the hotel then walked around the local village, which was quite interesting in itself. It was built about a hundred years ago, initially by soldiers from one of the colonial wars, then became a railroad town. The houses are of wood, mostly unpainted and small, though there are still some houses from the colonial era. Streets are muddy and lined with small stalls, like the highways. As we entered the main part of town we saw a man with a table, on which squares were numbered 1-6; he was shaking a cup with three die in it; children who looked as young as five or six were placing bets on the squares. Shops sold raw meat, whole chickens, vegetables, fruit, dry goods of various sorts – all hanging or lined up on small tables; most shops were perhaps ten feet wide.
The highlight of the day was the night walk, before dinner, that lasted 6-8. We picked up a national park guide, John, who is very good at finding animals of all sorts – three species of tree frog, two of chameleon, and two lemurs. The rain stopped and the sky briefly cleared; we walked along the paved road, which was good considering the weather. At the very end he found a mouse lemur in a tree only a few meters from the road.
Wooly lemur: A whole family in a tree, most half obscured by branches. One near the top completely visible, but inactive – feeding on leaves, not moving much. Another lower down on a large branch we could see better. Fairly large (the largest of the nocturnal species), and definitely wooly, white stripe on the legs makes them more visible. Erect posture; unlike other lemurs we’ve seen they don’t go upside down – we saw the lower one climb down the branch; she climbed down tail first, like a human would, rather than head first like the other lemurs.
Goodman’s mouse lemur: the one we saw close at hand was stocky, short neck, large head with dark markings and pointed ears which, along with the huge eyes, made it look rather like an owl. Larger than a mouse, actually – more the size of a small squirrel, maybe 4-5 inches long. It sat for a remarkably long time while the guides shined bright flashlights into its eyes and we all admired it, then scurried off into the dark forest.
Frogs: White-lipped tree frog, actually with an entire white underbelly – a bit smaller than our familiar leopard frogs. A leaf-green tree frog a bit larger than a 25 cent coin, which flattened itself to the thickness of a coin as we inspected it, and a brown tree frog with a gold belly. Remarkably, John saw the small green tree frog from across the road – we had to get a few feet away from it to see it, even with him pointing it out.
Chameleons: two very small chameleons, one almost white.
We finished the walk with a half hour left before dinner, so detoured for a stroll through the village and a stop in a village night-club – a shed with thatch roof and concrete floor with a local band playing through a bank of about six oversize speakers – most of the people inside were men and boys, from maybe 6 or 8 into late 20s, a few young women but not nearly as many as men. Outside the door was a makeshift merry-go-round filled with kids having a great time – sitting on benches that look like park benches, fastened to a round wood platform suspended from a pole in the middle that was sunk into the ground.

Sunday morning we got up to rain. We had a scheduled walk in Montavidia National Park. We drove about 10 km, over an hour, to the park gate, then another 5 km, another hour, into the park itself, over a road that resembled Hunt Road, where I grew up, in the early 50s before it was covered with adequate gravel, after a heavy spring snow melt and two weeks of rain. John, the park guide, commented that forests and roads don’t go together – if a good road is built, people quickly cut down and steal the valuable trees (including Rosewood and several other species of valuable hardwood) and the forest disappears.
We had barely entered the park when John spotted some bamboo lemurs at the roadside. Madagascar has an indigenous species of bamboo that grows very tall and bends over in an arc, almost touching the ground, with small clusters of leaves every couple or three feet. The bamboo lemurs disappeared pretty quickly – Eric managed to get a couple of shots first, using my waterproof camera. It was a good sign.
Halfway to the parking place, John spotted a golden sefaca lemur – second largest on the island. It stayed around while I took several photos of it, with Eric holding an umbrella over me and my camera, then made a spectacular leap, or rather drop, down to a lower branch, followed by a lateral leap to another branch where it disappeared. As the name suggests, it is a brownish gold on top, a paler color, almost grey, underneath. It looked big enough to weigh 80 pounds but Elperon, our guide said it weighs about ten kilos. The difference suggests a pretty thick fur.
We reached the muddly parking area and began our walk, in a light rain that intermittently increased to heavy, then decreased to a near stop, then started again all day long. We walked up a long rather slippery hill – I was glad I’d brought the trekking poles, one for me and one for Eric. The parks people have done a good job with stone stairs on the steeper parts, but the tree roots were wet and slippery, and the clay soil slippery in places. We stopped after about ten minutes to watch a family of common brown lemurs in a tree – we tried a few photos but they were pretty far away with the sky behind them – I mostly just watched them through my binoculars until they dropped down beneath the level of intervening brush. We climbed on up to a viewing platform where we took a few pictures while John went out looking for lemurs. Elperon told us most tourists would not make it that far – they took us up to the viewing platform only after seeing that we took the slippery steep trail in stride. He later told me he and John had discussed me (in Malagasy of course) and wondered at the fact that I am still an active vigorous hiker at my age. (I encountered that kind of preconception throughout the trip.)
We rambled around in the mud and rain for another hour or more, as the rain slowly soaked through my rain jacket, without seeing anything more of note. When I realized my shirt was feeling a little damp I put the iPhone into a ziplock and the Canon into a larger plastic bag to keep them from being damaged. Eventually John decided we weren’t going to see any more so led us back to the road, about a km from the car. He commented “we may see something on the way back to the car.” He was right. About halfway there he spotted a small group of red-bellied lemurs, which are quite rare (Elperon said he hadn’t seen any of them for over a year.) Eric and I both took several photos as the lemurs moved from one tree to another – unfortunately no photos of their spectacular jumps from tree to tree.
Back at the car we took our sack lunches to a shelter near the car and ate them. We had encountered several other tourist groups, most of whom hadn’t seen any lemurs, although the group who shared the shelter with us had seen a ring-tailed lemur, which we have yet to see. The rain increased, so we picked our way through the mud back to the car to drive back to the lodge and try to get some of our clothes dry. John said we would drive slowly because we might see something along the way – and once again he was prescient. On the way back we saw another bamboo lemur on one of the curved bamboo stalks. This one sat still while Eric and I took a dozen or more photos, then jumped down to a lower branch where it sat for another five minutes while we took more. John said this was a good thing about the rain – they tend to be more still when it’s cool and rainy; without the rain we might not have seen any at all.

The night walk was even better than yesterday. The rain eased off, and finally stopped when the walk was about over. This time we walked along a forest trail; began by spotting three of the four chameleons active in this area, a very small one, the stumptail chameleon, named for its unusually short tail, a larger green one, Parsons chameleon, a juvenile of a species that as adults is the largest in this area, a whitish one that turned brown as we watched it called the elephant ear chameleon because of its large ears that lay back along it’s neck, and one called the Satan chameleon because of its horn-like points. We caught a brief glimpse of a mouse lemur before it descended rapidly from its tree and disappeared, then watched two wooly lemurs for five or ten minutes. Finally, near the end of the walk, a virtual miracle: a mouse lemur crouched on a small branch maybe 5 feet from the trail, looking at us with its huge eyes while we took dozens of photos, a few of which actually turned out. It has a very cute face, small mouse-like ears. After a while it moved to a lower branch, stared at us for another minute or so, then disappeared into the brush. As we returned to the parking lot the clouds cleared and stars came out – a perfect evening.

Our last full day here was brilliant – but also made us feel that we had timed our visit pretty well. The clouds cleared somewhat, and it rained only a little during the morning, not at all during the afternoon. On the morning walk we spotted a group of brown lemurs fairly high in the trees – ended up barging off through the bush to get a somewhat clear shot – I only got a few worth keeping; Eric managed to get a few more. Then we spotted a couple of golden sefaca lemurs high in one tree. I got several good shots, looking upward so all I got was butt and tail, with a couple of shots with a head, looking over its shoulder. About then several more groups showed up and we were surrounded with over a dozen people of various nationalities, most with no sense of being silent etc. – getting into position for a better shot through the trees was almost impossible. The guides suggested we move on and leave the sefacas to the crowd. Along the way my hat got knocked off my head by a low branch – I picked it up and put it in a pocket but it dropped out again and I thought I’d lost it.
We walked through the woods – lovely in the morning light, for another hour or so, hearing the calls of the indra all around us – the guide said they are territorial calls; they sound somewhat like whale songs although shorter; they carry for a mile or more. After a while John left us to go out scouting through the brush; he came back and led us along a faint trail through thick brush, up one very steep, muddy incline and down another – very difficult walking on sometimes slippery clay; we were very glad of the trekking poles. I was also glad of my previous hiking experience, which helped me find footing on the difficult terrain.
We finally came to a spot from which we could see two indras. As we watched them we realized one had a young baby with her – we could occasionally see the face of the baby as it peeked out from under the mother’s arm – Eric managed to get a couple of very good shots of the baby – I only got one because at just about that time my lens got fogged up inside the outer cover, which can’t be removed. Fortunately, the fog cleared away after about a half hour.
The lemurs decided to move off – it is a marvel to watch them leap sideways 15 or 20 meters to another tree, then a second, then a third, almost effortlessly. When they had gone the guide led us down another even steeper and more slippery trail into a ravine, and up the other side to a point where we could see three of the lemurs. We watched them for a half hour, taking some recordings of their calls, before clambering back up the hill to a better trail and walking back to the trail.
After lunch we drove to one of the other resorts that has a private reserve called Lemur Island – a fair-sized patch of forest surrounded by a rather narrow canal (shallow moat, perhaps) wide enough to keep the lemurs on the “island.” We got into a small plastic canoe, which a guide paddled across the water into a slip, where we got out. While he went back to the guide a welcoming committee of common brown lemurs approached, walking along the handrail beside a walkway above the rather moist ground. When the guide appeared (with a sack of cut up banana pieces) the lemurs swarmed all over us (literally), climbing on shoulders and outstretched hands, looking for their reward – a small piece of banana. After a bit some other tourists showed up, and our guide led us to another boat landing, where we boarded another plastic canoe to be ferried across to yet another island, where we could also see golden sefaca lemurs in the trees, and black and white tufted lemurs, also in the trees, as well as the rather shy bamboo lemurs (about the size of a house cat) and hordes of common brown lemurs. We stayed there, close to the landing, while they came to us. The golden sefacas did not actually clamber onto us like the black and whites and the common browns, but they did come down close enough to pose with us.
The bamboo lemurs are odd – they do not like to be touched, and seem somewhat fearful about coming too close, but they clearly want to be part of it – even when there are no bananas to be begged (and they don’t seem nearly as enthusiastic about the fruit as the common browns – they prefer to munch on bamboo leaves and grass, but they stayed fairly near, within a couple or three meters. The golden browns are more enthusiastic; several climbed up and perched on us; one adopted Eric and perched on his shoulder for almost the entire time we were there, an hour and a half or more, playing with his hair and his beard, sometimes with his hat, and at one point his glasses (he took them off and handed them to me.) Another one climbed up on me and sat contentedly on my shoulder, occasionally licking my shirt (by now, after three days in the rain forest, probably quite nutritious). From time to time he would lick my hands and nibble on my fingers in the way a pet cat often does – at first it made me a bit nervous (their teeth are sharp) but the bites were very gentle and restrained, again like a pet cat or dog. At one point a couple of black and whites joined the fun, climbing up onto our shoulders for a photo-op. In the background, the larger lemurs, especially the black and whites and the golden sefacas, would occasionally do a round of jumps, from one tree to another four or five times in a row.
The experience was sublime – a nice rounding out of the Madagascar experience. First we saw the lemurs and various lizard species in their natural habitat, natural behavior, sometimes quite distant and occasionally close enough for a really good look. Then we had the extended play and photo session with the half-tamed lemurs on lemur island. It was very nice – even nicer because the rain had stopped and we could enjoy it more or less dry.
The next morning we had planned another walk but Eric discovered his flight was that day – a day earlier than he had originally thought – so we had to leave for the drive back to Tana (Antananariba) right after breakfast.

Overall assessment: We were both very glad we decided to include Madagascar in our itinerary. It is a beautiful island, with wonderful people. Contrary to my preconceptions, it is as much or more Asian than African – the first settlers came from Indonesia, and half the current residents are of Asian descent. The culture is also a blend of the two. The situation faced by the lemurs and many other animal species unique to Madagascar is not as dire as I had been led to expect, although they are certainly under pressure, especially from logging and mining. The guides we encountered are very committed to preservation, and they happily speak of the many NGOs involved in the work.
Poverty is, as we expected, widespread. The forest areas are characterized by very traditional farming – ox-drive plows or human labor to till the soil; very little evidence of any labor saving machinery anywhere. In the cities as well as the countryside, unassisted human labor seems to predominate – everywhere you see the human-pulled carts, often loaded with hundreds of pounds of freight (and occasionally with another person riding on back along with the freight.) In populated areas, every bridge and every stretch of river or creek that can be easily accessed is the site of women doing their wash in the river, and usually spreading it out to dry on riverside rocks or grass. Women and a few men are seen everywhere carrying loads, often what appear to be quite heavy loads, on their heads. The main means of transportation is walking, sometimes four or five miles to the nearest market town, carrying goods to sell in to town, carrying purchased goods back, usually on the head or back, or sometimes in a person-drawn or occasionally ox-drawn cart. The houses in the countryside in the warmer north are flimsy shacks of thin boards with thatch roofs; in the cooler central highlands they may be made of compacted and dried mud or concrete, even though wood is the more traditional building material. Aside from the main highway, paved and kept up because of its role as a connector to the seaport, the roads are pot-holed dirt roads, some showing signs of having once been paved; streets of the small villages are mud.
The experience of seeing these remarkable animals in their natural habitat is incomparable, as it was in Africa.
It appears that we arrived just before the opening of high season – the last two days we found many of the forest trails crowded, and Elperon tells us that for the truly high season, late September through October when more animals are out and the weather is dry and warm, you need to book accommodations a year or more in advance. That may be a good thing for preservation – the more people depending on eco-tourism, the more support there is for preserving the wild basis, but inevitably the nature of the experience will change. We felt very lucky to be able to observe the animals in their natural habitat and generally enjoy the rain forest as a place of quiet and solitude.
Here even more than in the rest of Africa, avoiding gluten was a problem – compounded, perhaps, by the fact that Eric has a mild allergy to lactose, which seemed to confuse the issue. Very few people understand these issues; they often overgeneralize, assuming I can’t eat dairy products, or eggs, or rice, or even French fried potatoes. My French pronunciation is not good (I have never mastered either the nasality required for most French words or the particular rhythm and musicality of the language) and comprehension is made even worse by waiters’ inability even to conceive of someone wanting a meal sans ble’. Eric, who does much better at least approximating the nasal intonation, could sometimes achieve at least a limited comprehension – at least of the language, but not reliably of the underlying need. I never felt entirely confident that what I was eating was entirely free of a bit of flour.