The highlight of my summer was definitely our incredible two week canoe trip down the Teslin and Yukon Rivers.  Unlike last year’s trip, this time Chelsea and I had some company – both our dads (Doug and Jim) came along for the ride, and Chelsea’s brother Shawn & his friend Sarah joined us for the second half.  As much as we enjoy each other’s company, it was a nice change to have some other people around to mix things up (and allow more options for the evening card games!).  One of the best parts for me was being able to share such an awesome trip with my dad, who’s the main reason I’m into all this outdoorsy nature stuff to begin with.  Thanks everyone for helping pack the trip with so many unforgettable moments!  =)

Since it’s taken me such a long time to put together this post (I’ve been busy, get off my back!), I’ll skip the nitty gritty details and stick to some of the more memorable moments.  If you’re interested in the practical details on the trip, I stuck those at the end.  So, with no further doo-doo, I present to you "Stories from the River".  Enjoy!
~ Mandrew

Who needs bear spray when you’ve got Mandrew Musk™?
One morning before we’d all gotten up, Doug was lying awake in his tent when he heard something moving around beside him.  He peeked out and saw a black bear sniffing about.  Not wanting to alarm anyone (or the bear) he quietly watched as it made its way around our camp and over to our tent.  Just as it reached us I happened to rip out a nice loud fart, startling the bear and causing it to flee for its life.  Yup, I've got skills.

Looking for a bit of a break from the intense heat of Santa Marta and the Caribbean coast, we decided to head up into the tiny town of Minca, nestled away in the Sierra Nevada mountains (which include the highest tropical mountain in the world).  After forty five minutes up a bumpy dirt road we found ourselves standing in the tiny main square of a quiet, two-street town with a couple of small restaurants, a tiny market and an internet cafe - this is our kind of place!

Minca is an up-and-coming eco-tourist destination, a great place to relax in the cooler mountain air while taking a break from the hours of hiking accessible from town.  A great place for bird-watching, taking a dip in the local swimming holes, touring the nearby coffee plantation, or just walking for hours on the tiny dirt road that leads further up into the mountains from Minca.  Minca's also a possible starting point for treks to the Lost City (La Ciudad Perdida) - I wish we'd known this before spending time in nasty Santa Marta (though we wouldn't have saved Charles, the dumpster kitten if we hadn't gone there). 

Well, after our amazing and educational 5-day trek to La Ciudad Perdida (the Lost City), we decided it was time to do some intense relaxing.  We didn't know where we were going to go next, but a quick look at my notebook (where I keep all my notes about places to stay from other travelers we meet along the way) gave us some ideas. 

A friend named Shawn who we met in Ecuador in January had recommended a hostel called Rancho Relaxo, located just outside Tayrona National Park, an area that sounded amazing. We couldn't remember why he recommended it, but I had drawn two big stars beside the note so it must have been something good.

After our time in San Gil we were ready to head north to the Caribbean and spend some time lounging on a beach, but not before earning it.  We arrived in Santa Marta early in the morning and settled into a hostel near the main market area.  At first glance the city was pretty terrible: smelled of urine and rotting garbage mixed with thick black car exhaust, noisy vehicles, sketchy people, etc.  I had no interest in walking around so after inquiring into “La Ciudad Perdida” (the Lost City) five-day trek through the jungle, I decided to relax and read a book for the rest of the day.  

Andrew went to the bank machine and for a little walk around our area.  I had expected him to take longer but after 10 or 15 minutes he barged into the room panicking, with something tucked away in his shirt.  At first I thought it was a mouse or a small rat, Andrew just mumbled that he had found it screaming on a sidewalk and could barely explain that no one seemed to care and someone made fun of him for picking it up!  It was a TINY kitten.  Couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 days old, with eyes still closed and one of them swollen to half the size of its head.  Its hair was thick with dirt and smelled like human urine!  Our hearts broke and we didn’t know what to do.  Feeling like this kitten urgently needed some food, we left the hostel in search of a veterinarian.  It took us far too long to find one but we eventually did after wandering through nasty smelly sweaty streets and market stands.  We bought a container of kitten milk powder that you just add water to and a syringe we could use to try and feed him.  We hurried back to the hostel and sterilized the syringe.  Using a damp towel I cleaned the kitten as best I could while Andrew mixed some milk.  It took some time to convince the kitten to eat from the syringe, but with patience we got the job done.  

I'd like to present our latest video, a photo-based guide sharing some advice on how to best appreciate nature.  I had a lot of fun putting this one together, looking over our vast and ever-growing collection of photos from our adventures in the wild.  Hope you all enjoy!  - Mandrew

Have you ever really looked at a map of Chile? Really looked at it? The country is long and skinny, bounded by the Pacific Ocean on the west and the Andes mountains (the world’s longest mountain range) on the east with not too much between them. It stretches 4600 km north to south from the driest place in the world to the most southern city in the world, and is only 150 km wide on average (about twice the length of the Panama canal).  This crazy geometry makes it impossible to look at a map of Chile on a single page, a bit frustrating when trying to plan our travels using our Lonely Planet.

We entered Chile from Bolivia after our salt flats tour and found ourselves in the tourisy town of San Pedro de Atacama, the driest place in the world (it rained for the first time in 5 years just last week).  Immediately we noticed a difference in the culture - the streets were clean, people were very friendly and happy looking, things were much more expensive, there were plenty of good food options available, drivers stopped at red lights and stop signs, and as tourists we didn't stand out quite as much as we did in Bolivia where streets were littered with garbage, people were friendly enough but also maybe, understandably, a little resentful toward travellers, everything was overly affordable, food lacked flavor of any kind and consisted mainly of stale bread and eggs, and driving or walking on any road was a significant risk to your life. Don’t get me wrong; I loved Bolivia for many reasons, but it was not a place that I would recommend travelling to with young children or if you have any kind of personal standards for cleanliness or health.

After checking out San Pedro for an afternoon we decided to spend the next day exploring the famous national park Valle de la Luna.  Although there were many tours offered in town, since it was so close by we decided to rent bicycles and check it out at our own pace.  We grabbed some groceries for a picnic lunch and rode out of town and into an incredibly unique landscape that’s perfectly described by its name “Valley of the Moon”.  We stopped at a number of recommended locations along the park road and did a few short hikes.  I found the area to be very geologically interesting!  Layers of weathered gypsum and caves formed by water and wind erosion.  The surrounding hills looked like they had been painted: sandstones and siltstones, reds and yellows, boulders and sand dunes.  The air was so dry that both of us had bleeding noses by the end of the day (that as of a month later still haven’t fully healed) but it was worth it to explore the alien landscape.  Our legs were very sore the next day but we got some rest on the bus while we made our way south.

Turns out, you can even be chili on the moon,
~Chelsea

To open the above photo slideshow in another window, click here.

Let’s face it; volunteering our time and effort to a worthy cause is a nice, feel-good thing to do.  For many of us, however, the idea of doing work when we could otherwise be relaxing on a beach or exploring the jungle just sounds … crazy.  We travel to enjoy life, not to waste our precious time milking cows or digging trenches. Well, not only can volunteering let you to contribute directly to a cause you’re passionate about, it can also be a great addition to your travels, providing unique and rewarding experiences as well as a means of stretching your travel budget.  Remember, too, that volunteering is an exchange, meaning that not only is your host benefitting from your hard work, enthusiasm and great ideas; you’re also honing a new set of skills while gaining a different perspective on life.

If simply helping to make the world a better place isn’t reason enough, here are five completely selfish reasons to give volunteering a try on your next trip.

Volunteering can be a great way to save some money and let you stretch out your travels.  In exchange for just a few hours’ work a day, you can score delicious home-cooked meals and a comfortable bed, letting you hang out and explore a new place for weeks without spending a dime.  This can be an awesome deal, especially when you’re working with a fun group of people on something you enjoy.  Unfortunately, depending on where you are in the world and what kind of volunteering gig you’re looking for, this isn’t always the way it will work.  In some situations, the value of your work (despite the fact that you’re giving it your all) just can’t cover the full cost of keeping you around.  Because of this, many volunteer hosts will ask you to contribute a small fee during your stay.  This may sound unreasonable at first, but if you consider the host’s point of view you may understand.   

We spent a few weeks volunteering at a family-run organic farm in Costa Rica, working our butts off for five hours a day AND paying $12 U.S. per day for the right to do it.  It took a while for us to swallow this, but once we’d learned more about the local situation (and found the awesome experience made it worthwhile) we quickly came to terms with it.  Part of the issue is the fact that a local could be hired to do the work for the equivalent of two U.S. dollars per hour, and could do it a heck of a lot faster, at that (no matter how hard-working and well-intentioned you are, after an hour of cutting grass with a machete, you’re soaked in sweat with a sprained back and wrist while the local worker has cleared three times the area and hasn’t slowed down a bit).  The other problem is the relatively high cost of living in Costa Rica; we would’ve spent a small fortune to stay in a hostel or eco-lodge in a similar area.  On the bright side, the fee you pay can go straight to work helping out the local economy, providing your host with the means to employ a local worker (hopefully saving you from machete-mowing duty in the first place).

Don’t be afraid to pay a small amount, as long as it seems reasonable – if they’re asking for way more than it could possibly cost to host you, however, either ask them to explain where the money goes or simply steer clear.  If completely free is a requirement, though, be persistent and you’ll find something.  Countries with a lower cost of living will offer more affordable options, as will volunteer gigs with more profitable ventures (hotels or restaurants generally make more money than independently-owned organic farms).  Also keep in mind that many hosts will be willing to work out a special deal if you prove especially useful or are able to stick around for longer.  Bonus points if you’ve got some relevant skills from your past life – even if it’s just rewiring a couple light switches in your friend’s apartment back at home, you may find you’re the most experienced electrician in town.  On a related note, try not to touch the exposed wires on your electrically heated showerhead…

After spending over a month in the jungle in Villa Tunari, we decided we were in need of a few days of civilization.  A couple bumpy bus rides later we found ourselves in Sucre, a beautiful, clean and relatively quiet city (such a nice change after nasty La Paz) with a bunch of history we weren’t really interested in.  Our main achievements in Sucre were eating some good food (so nice to have options again!), loitering at a number of cafés to catch up on our blogging, and finding a laundromat with hot water so we could sterilize our mold encrusted jungle clothes.  Sucre treated us nicely, but just the same we were soon ready to get back on the road and make our way down to Uyuni to check out the much-anticipated salt flats.

By far the most visited tourist attraction in Bolivia, the salar de Uyuni is salty, flat and incredibly huge, covering over ten thousand square kilometers.  We caught an overnight bus to Uyuni and sought out a tour – booking ahead is for chumps.  There are a ridiculous number of companies that offer identical tour packages for the salt flats, making it a complete crapshoot when deciding which to go with.  After speaking with a few different agents and hearing the exact same description but with wildly varying prices, we decided to go with the second-cheapest and most racially-appealing option, World White Tours.  The next morning we met our driver Pepe (who we were ensured was not a drunk) and the rest of our group, consisting of Luiz and Renata from Brazil, Casey from the U S of A and Gabriella from Israel (and a bunch of other places) and headed out of town. 

Our first stop just outside of town was the "train graveyard" where a bunch of old trains have been left to rot.  I’m not sure why they’ve been left there, but it’s a cool place to take some pictures with rusty, graffiti-covered trains.  Somewhere in the mix was the very first locomotive in Bolivia… kinda cool, I guess.  The real highlight of the first day was, of course, the giant frickin’ salt flat.  It’s really, really big!  Once we’d driven far enough onto it, it was pretty unreal – nothing but flat, white, salty crust almost as far as you could see.  If you’re lucky enough to visit during the wetter season the salar becomes a massive mirror, causing the sky to blend in with the ground making for an incredibly confusing horizon.  It was in a dry mood for us, with the exposed salty crust forming hexagonal crystals into the distance.  There was the odd spot where the crust had broken and the salty brine was visible underneath.  To me it felt a lot like driving on a huge, frozen Lake Superior – the chilly air was about right, too!  We stopped for lunch at Incahuasi Island, a lump of land covered in thousands of fuzzy cacti, where we made an attempt at some funky perspective photos (all the cool kids were doing it).  Finally, after a long day of salty driving, we left the salt flats and pulled up to our cozy little salt hotel (yes, a hotel made of salt) where we were treated to a salty dinner and then rested our salty heads.

Imagine a volunteering gig where your only job is to spend your days hanging out with a couple good friends while walking a cute and cuddly dog through the Bolivian jungle. "Sounds great, sign me up!" you say?  Not so fast... replace that cuddly dog with Balu, a fully-grown male Andean bear with a serious addiction to coca leaves and backpacks.  Next, swap those good friends with a couple dudes you've just met, neither of which are in any way qualified to be working with a bear. Finally, factor in Balu's cunning and constant desire to catch you and engage in a very one-sided wrestling match.  Still sound like fun?  Glad to see that great minds think alike!

Before you slip into your rubber boots and plunge headfirst into the jungle, check out the following survival tips: 

You and your two newly met teammates are about to release a three-hundred pound bear from his reinforced steel and brick enclosure with nothing but a ten meter rope and a backpack full of peanuts, fruit, and a quadruple-sealed bag of coca leaves (only to be used in SERIOUS emergencies) to keep him under control.  Such a feat requires either nerves of steel or, more likely, blissful ignorance.  Take things one day at a time, and keep in mind that in his eight years at Comunidad Inti Wara Yassi, a wildlife refuge in Bolivia, Balu's never injured a volunteer to the point of needing stitches (the same can’t be said for a few unlucky coca-fueled construction workers).

Balu is quite playful, and one of his favourite games is trying to catch his volunteers (just to play, don't worry...?). He's also smarter than he looks, and will try to catch you off guard with a surprise sprint forward, a quick run back, or, on his more devious days, a surprise sprint forward followed by a quick run back (a combo which can catch even the most careful of volunteers off guard).  Whether Balu's simply feeling playful or, god forbid, angry or frustrated, and despite everyone's insistence that he won't do any serious harm, you DO NOT want to get caught. Although Balu's likely to catch you at least once over the course of your month-long volunteering gig, do your best to avoid this, as it's pants-shittingly terrifying and will likely leave your favourite jungle wardrobe torn to shreds.

Some things to keep in mind in order to avoid Balu's rib-crushing bear hug: 

1) Keep your distance. Although Balu can outrun you with enough motivation, he’s rather lazy and a bit overweight, and so will only try to catch you if it won't leave him out of breath.  Maintain a reasonable distance and you should be safe.

My job for the month at Comunidad Inti Wara Yassi (CIWY) was to walk with Tigre (with her because she leads) in the jungle every day. Before starting my first day I was told that Tigre doesn't take trails, is very energetic, hunts and typically gets her handlers lost in the jungle overnight at least once during their stay. I was also warned how violent she can be.  On the day that we arrived, the girl who was currently training to walk with Tigre was attacked pretty badly (stitches on her arms and possibly other places, I didn't really want to know more).  Alarm bells started ringing in my head but something inside me told me this is something I had to do.  Walking alone in the jungle with a wild cat has been a fantasy of mine for about for as long as I can remember, and only now have I realized that it is something I will really be able to do!

I wish someone had told me how gentle and patient Tigre can be, because this is the Tigre I soon got to know and love.  From the moment we arrived at CIWY all I heard were horror stories about how violent she is and how other volunteers had gotten lost in the jungle overnight because of her. Still, it wasn't until I began to work with her that my subconscious fears began to surface to the point that I nearly gave up.  I had imagined a much more relaxed experience. Naive, I now know.