So much has happened in the past three days, since leaving Futaleufu three days ago, that it honestly feels like three or four weeks of activity and experiences. Unreal. First, a couple of views from there.
On my hike, far above town. It was so serene and chill up there that I felt as though I’d discovered, yet again, the secret of life. The universe was vibrating in an amazing frequency and I didn’t want to leave, so I just hung out for almost two hours. I need to go back there…
At my hotel, run by a charming Italian named Silvano, who has lived in Chile for the past thirty years. I collect heart shaped rocks, so this really moved me.
Futaleufú is totally magical. From the moment I drove into this very small village, with its stunning mountain scenery in every direction just a stone’s throw from the Argentine border, I knew that I’d found somewhere very special. Adventure beckoned N, S, E and W, so deciding what to jump into was the central puzzle.
I’ve never seen rivers this startlingly green and crystal clear, and they’re everywhere in this region. The glacial till that washes into them reflects sunlight in a mystical way, creating dazzling jewels everywhere you look. You could spot a salmon here from a mile away.
Looking NE while hiking – Chile’s end and Agentina’s beginning – the Cordillera that separates both:
I’m gonna do a little photo dump here, because I feel that they’re so much better at conveying the vibe of where I’ve been than mere words:
Jean Baptiste, originally from France, but living in Brazil and Chile for the past twenty eight years, bicycling to Futaleufu from Chaiten – 75 miles of very challeng terrain on unpaved roads. He’s 79 years young. Tough and very sweet dude:
Rosalinda and her granddaughter. She owns the land from which my hike began, and her family requests a small entrance fee / donation. The best three dollars I’ve ever spent…
What a beautiful sign entering town. Translated, it says “Futaleufu – a Landscape Painted by God.” How incredibly appropriate.
Changing weather headng south towards Puerto Aysen:
Villa O’Higgins – the Sirens’ call – and super difficult to reach, as the Carretera turns into a pretty savage dirt road for the last 790 miles. Gotta have my fillings checked when I get home…
Met Darius Braun in a snowstorm – on his bike – on a mountain pass at 3,800’ el – dropping down to Rio Ibáñez. Iron man – he’s biked from Calgary to here – 20,000 km after suffereing a stroke and paralysis on his left side from a brain tumor that was thankfully removed. Hard to grasp. I feel like a total wimp…
Meandering south:
Un gaucho:
The Rio Baker, world famous fly fishing and rafting river. Its color astonished me:
My view on La Carretera (one of them, anyway)…
Patrick form Poland, who is riding from Ushuaia north and hike a biked from Argentina into Chile. I noticed that he’s carrying a ton of weight and he said he’s got to shed a bunch:
When you get to within 60 miles of Villa O’Higgins, the push requires an eight mile ferry across Estero Mitchell, which connects with the Pacific Ocean 65 miles west. Here’s Inez, who mans the tiny restaurant adjacent to the dock:
No charge for the ride. The government picks up the tab.
Villa O’Higgins is everything I’d read it was – lonely, windswept, forboding and achingly beautiful. It was created only in 1966, and it sits where the icefields of Chile and Argentina completely overtake the landscape.
Fun (kind of) story – I found a gtreat place to camp along the O’Higgins River, which separates Chile and Argentina, about three miles outside of town. A flat, grassy meadow offered plenty of space to park and take photos of the changing sky. That’s Argentina across the lake:
The next morning, after it rained all night, I decided to pull forward and make a large turn to exit rather than simply back out of where I’d parked. Bad idea…. my camper got stuck in the saturated ground, and I couldn’t move it forward or back despite valiantly trying. Fortunately, the cavalry not only arrived, but was camped about 100 meters from me on this desolate little spit.
My buddy Friedl from Austria. What a rig. He pulled me out of the mud this morning after getting bogged down on Lake O’Higgins, where we both camped last night. Amazing dude. Been traveling around the world since 2018.
The shallow grave my camper would have succumbed to:
On Friedl’s truck. So true. We had coffee after the rescue and realized that we viewed life in exactly the same way – time is the most precious commodity that we have and are given, and the way in which we use it makes all the difference in living. Amen.
Yes – it happened again on the way out of Villa O’Higgins – The coffee I bought to go was leaking all over and I reached over to grab it, causing the camper to drift onto the steeply banked and very soft roadside berm. Dang – no way it was coming out, so I locked it and started walking back to town to try and locate Friedl. Within a minute, his Mad Max vehicle came into view, and the cavalry once again extricated me from a tight spot. Geez – not like these were life threatening situations, but if you get stuck here, you’re on your own unless and until someone comes upon you and can assist. I drove northward with extreme focus after that one…
Marketing photo:
En route to Parque Nacional de Patagonia, which was created after Doug and Kristine Tompkins bought and donated land that connected two national reserves to form Patagonia National Park. Stunning in its scale and beauty.
The Baker River yet again, hundreds of miles from where I first spied it in Futaleufu:
Parque Nacional de Patagonia headquarters. An amazing lodge, museum and camping oasis miles and miles from everywhere. Thank you, Doug and Kristine:
Today marks fourteen days into this six week journey. Reflections and observations? Chile is the wildest place I’ve been in terms of geography and landscape. It is staggeringly huge, beautiful and raw. It exudes charm everywhere. It is, however, quite difficult and challenging to access overland but, to me, more than well worth the effort, as the rewards are unreal.
The Chilean people are super warm and inviting, and most don’t have much in terms of material things and possessions. Their souls are kind and welcoming.
Weather – it has rained every day (on and off, mostly) for the past six days, but there’s not much one can do about the weather when on the road. As a number of Chileans have told me – that (rain and wind) is Patagonia, so you’re seeing it in its true form.
I’m headed into Argentina next, where I’ll enter and head south towards Ushuaia – the southernmost town on the planet – and the famed Torres del Paine National Park. Lots to see, so I’m gonna get rolling…
It’s getting really good now. I’m south of all the large cities and towns, and on the Carretera Austral. Here are some images from the past two days.
I met Alvaro and Mira, two teachers from Concepción now living and working in Honopirín, at dinner the other night. What incredibly kind and personable individuals. They both love living in the country, away from the big city, and hope to stay in Honopirín for a long time. The local children are incredibly fortunate to have them:
Waiting for the ferry from Pichicolo to Coleto Gonzalo. Again, the Carretera ends because of impossibly difficult road building terrain, requiring a six hour boat ride to its reconnection:
While on the ferry, I poked my head into the engine room, below deck. Gerardo, the chief engineer, waived me down with a broad smile and handed me industrial grade ear protectors because of the twin CAT diesels’ deafening roar. He then made me coffee and we talked about machines, motors and the like for a half hour. What an incredible guy – a real joy to connect with. Before I left, I told him his diesels were bigger than Lester’s…
Me playing assistant engineer…
Strolling amid the cars and trucks, peering off the aft deck:
Land ho after six hours on the sea, in Coleto Gonzalo – the northen entry point of Parque Nacionál Pumalín, an almost impossibly beautiful place and story. Pumalín was created by Doug Tompkins and his wife Kristine over several decades. Doug founded Esprit and The North Face and Kristine was Patagonia’s CEO for decades. After visitng Patagonia in the 1970’s and falling in love with it, they dreamed of preserving its astonishing wilderness from development. Over several decades, they purchased over 900,000 acres (yes – over 900,000) to donate to the government of Chile as a park. The government, overly suspicious of their intentions, blocked them from acquiring more land at every possible point, believing that they might try to literally bisect the country and create havoc and chaos. After Doug and Kristine finally persuaded the Chilean government (which took over a decade) that they were buying the land to give to the people of Chile as a park, things got into the groove and Pumalín took shape. It is truly one of Earth’s last great spaces, almost totally untouched by the hand of man. In it lives the Fitzroya Cupresssoides, a relative of the giant redwoods of the Pacific Northwest. They have been spared, and Pumalín moves cautiously and quietly forward in a changing world and environment.
After hiking for several hours amidst these scenes, I headed to Chaitén, 40 Km south, on a portion of the Carretera that was amazingly punishing. One could easily tear a wheel or two off with minimal effort driving between Pumalín and Chaitén. Of course, I found that driving faster (while trying to avoid flying off the road) made it a bit smoother. Not sure my camper was equally sanguine…
After a great dinner of cevíche, I sniffed out a killer place to camp and awoke to these scenes:
All in, a great couple of days digging into the Carretera Austral. with countless wild scenes and 800 more miles southbound until it ends in Villa O’Higgins, where I’ll head north for a bit in order to cross into southern Argentina. Should be filled with national park after national park, wild and scenic spaces and lots of fun…
Yesterday marked one week on the ground, with five ahead. The trip has picked up a cool rhythm now, which is really nice. The past several days have been interesting. After a great traipse through the Lake District, I headed to the large Island of Chiloé, which, alas, disappointed. Its endless green, rolling hills were pretty to look at, but each town I visited was quite similar to the others – very poor and dirty. Quellón, its capital, was crowded, dirty and a bummer aesthetically, although I had an excellent lunch there. I tried to catch a ferry to Chaitén from there to avoid yo yo-ing back north then around through Puerto Montt, but struck out despite going to three docks and ferry offices. It’s not yet peak tourist season, so it’s a crap shoot as to whether a particular office will be open now.
Found a great spot to camp Sunday night overlooking Ancud, on the north shore of Chiloé Island, in a major rainstorm.
After Quellón, I headed north to Puerto Montt, the largest city in southern Chile. An interesting fact about highways in Chile – when they go through a city, they literally go through the city. No bypasses, as in so many other cities where I’ve driven, so you get spanked in local traffic. I skirted the southen edge of Puerto Montt, right along the water, then came upon this wondrous sign:
The fabled Carretera Austral, which was conceived and built in the 1970s and 1980s by the military dictator Augusto Pinochet, using soldiers for its construction, was designed to connect the disparate northern and southern regions of Chile to each other economically (probably the only positive thing Pinochet ever did during his rule), and it is a marvel of engineering as well as a doorway into some of the most spectacular scenery on Earth. Pinochet also believed that having troops and settlers in Chile’s remote southern region would dissuade Argentina from trying to poach part of the country’s rich but remote territories. Starting officially in Puerto Montt and continuing 800 miles south until its end in the tiny hamlet of Villa O’Higgins (where I’m heading), where glaciers and fjords prevent any further road construction, it is what I’ve been super excited to roll up my sleeves and dive into. It has not disappointed so far, although I’m only 50 miles into it. Some shots of yesterday’s meanderings and the Carretera Austral last night and today:
Waiting for the ferry last night in Caleta La Arena – the Carretera Austral crosses Reloncavi Fjord, two miles wide at its junction with the Pacific, so you’ve got to hop a half hour / four mile ferry to continue onward.
Early this morning after sleeping in a big rain storm. Haualauhie Puerto, off the main road:
Today has been most interesting. I drove fifteen miles to Hornopirén to hop (another) ferry to reconnect with the Carretera Austral southbound, only to learn that there’s only one boat per day for the five hour trip (which left twenty minutes before my arrival 😜), and the next available spot for me and my camper was Saturday, five days hence. Yikes…
Plan B involved taking a different ferry tomorrow from Pichicolo, a bit north, to Caleta Gonzolo. Say that three times fast… These reservations can only be secured by bank transfer / advance payment (unlike last night’s boat), and their payment system ain’t like ours, nor do they have PayPal, Venmo or Zelle. Fortunately, Jorge and his wife Solange (pictured below), who run a terrific little rest stop and hotel named Del Bosque, got me through the local wormhole so I’m reserved for tomorrow (I’ll pay at the dock).
An aside – there are very few police and police cars here. I’ve felt completely safe so far, and the people have been fantastic. One weird thing, though – the police cars look like they’re set to enter the Gaza Strip with the IDF:
No idea why, but they do look intimidating to me. Some other observations – Chile isn’t really thought to be a third world country these days, yet it feels that way to me. I’m not being disparaging, but poverty is ubiquitous here. People have almost nothing, their homes are pretty much cardboard shacks and I haven’t seen fancy casas anywhere. I guess that’s kind of good – unlike the US, where huge wealth and income disparities are, IMHO, sowing the seeds of social revolution, people here seem to be on the same team (and living the same economic reality).
I’m off to hike the volcano in Honopirén National Park. Skies are clearing a bit, so hopefully I’ll stay somewhat dry. We’ll see.
Chile is really big – 2,700 miles north to south, although it is simultaneously quite narrow – 276 miles at its widest and only 40 at its narrowest. The Andes Mountains, which run its entire length, are the longest mountain chain on Earth and second highest after the Himalayas, spanning 5,500 miles north to south and scraping the heavens with their highest peak, Aconcagua (which I’ll see next month), at 24,000’. Chile possesses quite a unique shape and topography, which substantially hindered its conquest by the Spaniards.
Starting out in Santiago and heading southward somewhat bisected its length for me, and I’ll leave the Atacama Desert and its northern wilds to another trip.
I made a big push the first three days in order to get to Pucón and the Lake District. It is a stunning area, with volcanos, snow clad peaks, lakes and dense forests seemingly everywhere.
Volcán Villarica, just outside of Pucón, in its winter coat (it’s mid spring here now):
Pucón is a cool, yet pretty touristy town relative to everywhere I’ve been so far. More first world than second or third. Lots of everything, yet the great outdoors beckon in every direction and you’re in the wilderness in a kilometer or so whatever direction you point your compass. I resupplied with food and excellent Chilean Pilsner (yippee), and was off to Parque Nacionál Villarica and the Argentine frontier, approximately 40 km southeast of town, accessed through a big climb. Pretty spectaular hiking and climbing all day, with great scenery en route:
A gaucho moving part of his herd:
Not sure I’d choose this outfitter – looks like this guy didn’t fare too well:
My home away from home these six weeks. Pretty darned comfortable and a lot of fun to travel in. I’ve got a mountain bike, spare petrol, water and miscellaneous other gear and necessities stowed up top:
Approaching Volcán Lanín, en route to the Argentine frontier:
A little excitement in Currarehue, on the way back from the frontier, where I stayed last night. Someone’s house caught on fire and the entire town turned out to watch the firefighters fight and extinguish it:
Volcán Villaríca from the east, en route to Licán Ray. It was venting on the northeast side, with the snow turned ashen grey. People here live in constant vigilance with these two active volcanos, which emit steam, ash and on occasion, pyrotechnic flows.
I’m chilling in Licán Ray now, about 35 km south of Pucón. What a postcard perfect little hamlet, ringed by scenic mountains and bordered by Lake Calofquén:
Off to mounain bike. Should be fun, with lots of single track in every direction. Will check in soon…
Getting here was a breeze. I flew through Atlanta with a short layover, as there are no non-stops from SFO to Santiago.
After picking up my camper downtown, I wanted to walk the old city, but the weather was fast changing with a storm moving in, so I headed for Viña del Mar on the Pacific coast. I’ll walk the historic district when I’m back in December.
Once out of the bowl in which Santiago resides, the weather broke and beautiful blue skies appeared.
Viña del Mar and its sister city, Valparaiso, entertain urban Chileans more than tourists, and as such drew me towards them. Viña, as the locals call it, was a center of sugar cane and fishing historically, and now moves sun and sand seekers in and out. After checking into my hotel, I meandered through town in search of a Chilean SIM card. After a little frustration (neither Entel nor Movistar, the two national communications giants, had any in their retail stores), I came upon these young ladies selling them in an Entel pop-up location. Game on.
Wired (wirelessly), I meandered back to the hotel to resort my gear and ask for a great local restaurant. Mattio, the owner, highly recommended Donde Willy, several blocks away, and after wrestling with the silly name, I moseyed on over.
What an awesome treat. I was greeted heartily by Mario, the owner, and spoke with him about my trip before talking about his background and what they served. I put myself completely in his hands, and he rewarded me richly, bringing me incredible food and wine and regaling me throughout my meal with great stories. One of the most intriguing was that of the Carménère grape, a Cabernet Sauvignon variety from France, which was rediscovered in Chile after being killed off in France by the Phylloxera bacteria a hundred years ago and thought to have disappeared from the planet forever, leaving many who knew it there totally distraught. The French were ecstatic about serendipitously unearthing it in Chile in 1994, and found it necessary to splice it into Cab vines there in order for it to thrive in the French terroir. Fantastic wine and food and amazing conversation and story swapping with Mario.
Mario showing off a terrific local Carménère:
After dinner, feeling terrific and renewed, I strolled down to the beach and soon hit the proverbial energy wall after being up for thirty six straight hours. The sensible thing to do was to crash and recharge, and I don’t think I could’ve done anything else, so I hit the hay around 9 pm and slept till 6 am today, after which I headed south, through Algarrobo and then Curico in the wine district, where I’m chilling in front of a huge fire in a great hotel now with a glass of great local Cab. Ahhh – recharged and relaxed.
Earlier in town at the magnificent Plaza de Armas:
Off to dinner – should be another delicious one here in wine country. Heading to Chillán and its volcanoes tomorrow. Looking forward to climbing into the Andes and gaining some el.
I’m stoked that my Spanish is quickly coming back. Feels great, and I’m looking forward to getting into the groove with it, as I’m already skipping the process of thinking first in English and translating words into Spanish in my mind. Caio for now.
Distant places beckon…. Several weeks till lift off and I’m getting pretty excited. I’ve rented a camper van for six weeks (yet again, as I love traveling this way), will buy a bike when I land in Santiago, and will travel through a good chunk of Chile and Argentina, hiking and riding through the Andes and their peaks, valleys, fjords and glaciers, during my journey. (An editorial note – you can click on any photo in this blog to enlarge it. Also, I’ll be using local SIM cards in both countries and won’t therefore receive calls or texts to my US number. I will, of course, receive e-mails. If you’d like to call or text or call me, please do so on WhatsApp).
I’ve calculated my anticipated route and total distance, both of which are pretty large, although of course they’re merely rough estimates right now, as I’ll be meandering the entire trip, poking around everywhere, staying longer where I find cool spots and shoving off where I’m not enchanted and excited to be (not likely to be too many places, from what I know and have read). I have a bunch of places I want to see, but no reservations anywhere. The trip will unfold as it will – in that sense, it will be the usual spirit quest adventure….
I’ve been studying and refreshing my Spanish skills, which have fallen into a rusty state after decades of fluency ( I’ve learned over the years that I need to use it or lose it). I’m finding the online instruction I’ve chosen to be pretty good and I know, from my four month sojourn through Columbia, Equador, Peru and Bolivia back in the Pleistocene, that my proficiency should return pretty quickly once I’m immersed in the language and culture 24/7. Looking forward to dreaming again in Spanish, as that was super cool.
Parque Nacional Torres del Paine bathing in afternoon light:
I’m heading to Poland March 22nd to volunteer as an EMT for Ukranian refugees. I’ll try to update things with photos and narratives as they unfold, to the extent time and circumstances permit.
MARCH 21, 2022
T minus 24 hours and counting. Ready to embark on the journey. Numerous contacts out to international, governmental and NG organizations, most of which appear to be scrambling frantically to put resources on the ground in the frontline border countries of Poland, Hungary, Slovakia, Romania and Moldova. I’ll be traveling to all or some of them, depending on each’s humanitarian needs and refugee flows.
These images (not mine, as I’m not there yet) focus one’s mind on the unbearable tragedy now unfolding across the length and breadth of Ukraine at the hands of a madman. The courage and heroism of the Ukranian people and the generosity of their neighbors is almost impossible to grasp.
More to come when I’m on the ground….
MARCH 25, 2022
The past 36 hours have been a whirlwind. After arriving in Warsaw, picking up a car and checking into my hotel, I reached out once again to the numerous international and Polish contacts on the ground with whom I’ve been corresponding. The impression I’ve gotten during the past three weeks is that careful planning is out the window and showing up where refugee needs are greatest appears to be the way to fly.
I drove to the Ukranian border yesterday, passing through Lublin, Chelm and then Dorohusk, literally across the river from Ukraine. Countless lorries and buses were headed in both directions, the trucks full when headed east and empty on their returns and the buses full when headed west and empty on their returns. I didn’t witness chaos, but instead a somewhat combined orderly and a bit disorganized flow of people and vehicles as the border area came into sharper focus.
I was detained on the border for over two hours in Dorohusk by Polish border and then military police after meandering on a dirt road, looking over a small river at Ukraine in the middle of nowhere. They couldn’t have been nicer and more kind, but were completely befuddled by my appearance seemingly out of the ether. After using the old “I was relying on GPS” to get where I was and where I was stopped – a goat path of a dirt road I’d driven for ten miles, overlooking a railroad bridge into Ukraine – they patiently reviewed – and photographed – all of my documents, made countless phone calls, brought in reinforcements (seriously – an SUV with five additional officers showed up after about an hour and a half), talked to and questioned me about my trip, whether I was CIA (they appeared to be serious) and my Mom’s family hailing from Warsaw – they not only let me go, with big smiles, but escorted me to the highway border crossing after driving another three miles by dirt road, opening five huge sliding border gates with their passes and directing me (with the captain riding shotgun and entertaining me) the wrong way through large trucks streaming eastward to the border post, then waiving me and us through without showing my passport or ID simply because of who they were. Total trip, from start to finish, and their warmth and kindness flowed over me all afternoon.
All in all, a crazy first day where I learned that the refugees are now moving through the border from western Ukraine into Poland almost entirely by train and that approximately one thousand are passing through Dorohusk and Chelm per day versus fifteen thousand each day a week ago.
A lot to process, and I arrived back in Warsaw around 10 pm, grabbed dinner and hit the hay. Today I’m heading to Krakow, where many refugees have taken up temporary residence en route to other and possibly more permanent destinations. After that, I’ll head back to the border regions of Slovakia and Hungary en route to Romania and Moldova.
Some photos of the day:
March 27, 2022
Game on. After screening a number of refugee assistance contacts and organizations since hitting the ground here (the vast majority of which seek only monetary donations), I’ve decided to freelance with a fellow from North Carolina who flew here, rented a house on the Polish border forty miles west of Lviv, the main humanitarian corridor out of Ukraine, and donate my time, medical expertise and vehicle to the ongoing efforts he and others are making to move humanitarian aid in and people who seek to leave Ukraine out of the area and into safe places throughout western Europe.
I’ll arrive there tomorrow. Looking forward with excitement and a bit of concern, as Russian missiles struck Lviv twice yesterday notwithstanding not doing so since the war began. Ian and his fellow volunteers were actually in Lviv Saturday when the missiles struck. Some journalists have posited that it was Putin’s greeting card to President Biden when he was on the Polish border yesterday visiting NATO and US Army troops. Things appeared to be quiet in Lviv today and will hopefully be the same tomorrow and in the coming weeks
I’m keeping deliberately vague about where and with whom I’ll be, as one never knows who’s monitoring communications transmissions close to the border.
For those who’ve asked whether they can send needed supplies and humanitarian assistance, I’ll have a local address to share in the next day or two. Thank you so much in advance – that is such a wonderful way to help, especially knowing that one of your friends will be personally delivering what you send. It will be humbling to transport and deliver what you send directly to Ukranians stuck or staying in their country as well as to refugees in need who will be on the move.
Much to do and many to help. More to come.
MARCH 29, 2022
Today was really intense and eye opening. Seeing over a thousand refuges crossing out of their country and into Poland at the border post we manned was emotionally wrenching. Only women and children arrived, and knowing that they had all bade farewell to their husbands, fathers and brothers with the knowledge that they might never see them again was sobering and a bit overwhelming.
Rather than write a lot about something that to me defied written description, I’ll let some of my photos from today do the talking.
Pretty tired. Looking forward to what tomorrow brings.
MARCH 31, 2022
Another day has dawned on the Polish – Ukranian border, with thousands more refugees having crossed over into safety yet uncertainty yesterday. Looking into the eyes of these individuals reveals relief at their having left war zones and the destruction that they experienced, combined with trepidation at everything they’ve left behind and and what comes next for them and their families on both sides of the border.
The positive news two days ago following peace talks in Istanbul has been dashed by the continued bombing and shelling of Kyiv and Chernihiv. What appeared to be a pause in hostilities now seems to be a duplicitous repositioning and resupply of Russian troops to correct the enormous deficiencies and mistakes of their war effort to date. What has been affirmed once again is that the Russians cannot be trusted. With this in mind, everyone wonders and asks when things will take a turn for the better.
There’s a rare combination of happiness and sadness in helping these people. Positive emotions in making their difficult journeys and days more bearable, combined with sadness in knowing that they’ve been forced to leave their motherland, their homes and those they love behind.
A word about the people with whom I’m working – the group hails from all over Europe and the States. Super friendly, educated and earnest folks, many of whom have done this before. I have so much respect for their selflessness and caring, as they’ve left comfortable lives behind on very short notice without thinking twice to help others in need. There’s a fantastic bond among the group and a feeling that we’re doing something larger than any of us. The common humanity and kinship is really wonderful and feeds the soul of everyone here.
Here are some photos from yesterday:
A mother looking for her Mom and children while listening to a volunteer’s information:
These busses unload continuously at our refugee center, only to turn around and start the process once again.
Taking the last steps to freedom by foot with the escort of Polish police:
This older man had only one leg and was ashamed to have been forced to leave his country rather than fight.
Grim humor survives the difficulties here.
We’ve treated and transported refugees who arrive with medical conditions. Once stabilized, they are moved to local hospitals for more definitive care.
A makeshift border church. Religion provides tremendous solace and a way to deal with everything that these people are experiencing.
It rained all night, and the forecast the next two days is for continued rain, snow and colder temperatures, hovering near freezing. We’ll do all we can to bring comfort and some certainty to everyone we’ll be working with each day. Caio for now.
APRIL 2, 2022
Ten days in and things are looking potentially better for all involved. Despite Russian deception and duplicity, humanitarian corridors appear to be opening from Mariupol and other eastern cities and towns, where hundreds of thousands have been without food, power and water, living underground, for more than five weeks.
Stopping to eat before boarding another bus to safety.
Outdoor warmth. Temperatures have dropped below freezing and rain and snow have accompanied an unseasonal cold front.
Temporary accommodations just inside the border in Lubycza Krolewska. Trying to rest and sleep here is not easy.
Ukrainians and Poles alike light up when I show them this. I’m learning to pronounce it….
Slavi Ukraini:
I drove to Warsaw on Thursday to pick up two Ukranian mothers and their children who needed transportation to Vilnius, Estonia. They asked not to be photographed because of concerns about their families back home, but they were incredibly grateful and composed in light of what they and their families have been going through. It was a long day, made longer by continuing on to Riga and Tallinn to drop others off on their journeys to distant relatives and safety. The people in the Baltic states are doing so much for their brothers and sisters in Ukraine. The sense of fraternity is just amazing.
Downtown Tallinn last night. The feeling of standing in solidarity with all Ukrainians is palpable here.
The Ukranian resistance grows stronger each day. It is an incredibly powerful and unstoppable force of nature (file photo):
Heading back towards Warsaw and the border. If things in fact become safer inside Ukraine, with humanitarian corridors assured, I expect to head over the border to deliver medical and other supplies to Lviv and other towns and bring refugees out. Fingers crossed that things will improve….
APRIL 5, 2022
Whew. The past three days have been a bit of a blur, driving folks up to Vilnius, Lithuania then continuing on to Riga, Latvia and Tallinn, Estonia before turning around and heading back to the Polish / Ukranian border. Lots of miles under my belt, but because I love driving, it was actually pretty cool. Back on the reservation, many people are still coming westward, yet a change has occurred – some Ukrainians, based upon the military victories achieved over Russian forces, are actually returning to their homes. Wow – talk about love of country….
It was very encouraging to find that the Baltic States, all of which are NATO members, and each of which share a border with Russia, are absolutely adamant about stopping Putin in his tracks. They are sending vast quantities of arms and humanitarian assistance to Ukraine and have been at the forefront of global condemnation of and opposition to Russia’s invasion of its slavic brother. Yesterday, the president of Lithuania announced that it would no longer import any Russian coal, oil or gas – none – starting today. Talk about leading – an awesome example of stepping forward and being heard in the international community. A shot heard ’round the world.
The group I’ve been working with in Hrebenne, comprised almost exclusively of freelance volunteers from Europe, the US and other countries around the world, is awesome. We’re using a WhatsApp group chat interface to interact, share ideas, request assistance and generally keep track of each other and others. I liken it to using open source software – everyone is in charge and no one controls things. It’s enormously collaborative, and really powerful for getting things done.
Here are some photos of recent days at our outpost in Hrebenne, literally on the Ukrainian border (the smell of diesel fuel from trucks running arms and supplies eastward and buses bringing refugees westward is a constant reminder…).
Sasha, all of eighteen years old, who came with his Mom from the UK:
Tranquility at day’s end:
Poland’s symbolic embrace of Ukraine:
Moving from a bus to a van:
Generators. Worth their weight in gold….
Before the rains…..
Today marks two weeks since I embarked on this journey. It feels like a lot longer, in light of what I’ve seen and experienced on the ground. I have another week to go before shoving off back to the States. People have rotated in and out, based on their schedules, and the bonds formed, even with the constant changes, have been wonderful.
Today I’m in Michalovce, Slovakia, approximately 125 miles south of Hrebenne very close to the Ukrainian border, because we heard that they’re short on help here relative to where we are and other border crossings. It’ll mean meeting new folks and comparing notes with each other on how things are working and how the people moving through are coping with what is happening back home. Now that Russian troops have withdrawn from much of the areas surrounding Kyiv and to its east, the nightmare of their barbaric acts is emerging. We hear that Bucha is likely to be the tip of the iceberg, which is a horrifying thought.
A word to everyone who has asked how they can help financially with the ongoing relief efforts here – every governmental and NG organization with which I’ve interacted, when asked how one can help, requests cash donations and contributions. The benefit of this approach is that they have done this before and know how to deploy and distribute aid in crises. The issue I have is in vetting how donations will be spent and the percentage of contributions that actually reach the refugees. The solution and recommendation for me is to use Charity Navigator – https://www.charitynavigator.org – to determine an organizations’s efficiency and percentage of funds received that are directly used to help those they serve.
The rain has stopped down here, but more is forecast throughout the week. Hoping that it stays on the dry side for everyone’s benefit.
APRIL 9, 2022
The frontier at Michalovce, Slovakia was full of volunteers and devoid of refugees. It has become apparent the past several days that almost all Ukrainians who have wanted to leave the country and who could since the February 24th invasion began through its borders with Poland, Slovakia, Romania, Hungary and Moldova have done so. The border station in Hrebenne, where I was encamped with many other volunteers, has taken on the appearance of a ghost town and Michalovce was very similar – tons of infrastructure and volunteers in place, but almost no refugees coming through from Ukraine.
What does impress at these frontier crossings is the number of lorries bringing arms and humanitarian supplies into Ukraine from the west. The trucks are loaded with NATO’s contributions to Ukraine’s war effort, which has as a result fought the formerly vaunted Russian Army to a virtual standstill. No one – not even the best military strategists and minds in the world – could have anticipated or predicted this outcome to date.
Putin is said to have made threee colossal strategic blunders in planning and executing his war – (1) he completely overestimated his troops’ strength, abilities and logistics competence; (2) he totally underestimated the international outrage and unity that his savagery would engender; and (3) he utterly failed to understand the strength and determination of the Ukraine resistance and competence in defending their homeland from a brutal dictator who lied to his generals, his troops and the world. Putin is now paying the price for his monstrous deeds, and one can only hope and pray that the forces opposed to him will remain strong and that he, as every other Russian ruler before him who lost a major military campaign outside Russia’s borders, will be ousted and relegated to the dustbin of history and tied together with other depraved and disgraced dictators such as Stalin and Hitler.
Here are some photos the Michalovce border “town,” which may spring back to life if and when Ukrainians who have to date been trapped in Mariupol and other eastern and southern towns and cities are given safe passage to the west. After yesterday’s train station missile strikes on civilians in Kramatorsk, which killed over one hundred women and children and wounded over three times that number. which was immediately condemned as a war crime by the international community, the likelihood of this happening soon is in serious doubt.
Does Jesus really save?
Part of the former Soviet Union’s military arsenal in Slovakia on its way back to fight Putin and his army of terrorists:
Because refugee passage across Ukraine’s western frontiers has almost ground to a halt, I’m heading to Munich and Berlin, where sizable groups of refugees have been transported and are awaiting resettlement, to lend my hands to those in need. Many have elected to return home, despite the inherent dangers, to check on their homes, their loved ones and to avoid being homeless any longer. The love of country and strength of the Ukranian people which is evoked in this incredibly brave act should tell the monster Vladimir Putin everything he needs to know about the folly of his invasion and butchery. That he will be held accountable, by his own people and by the global community, is a foregone conclusion. That such judgment and punishment occurs much sooner, rather than later, is the fervent hope and aspiration of every Ukranian and every civilized individual around the world.
APRIL 12, 2022– Reflections
Arrived in Berlin last night and I’m winding down my trip before returning to Warsaw and heading home Thursday at the crack of dawn. My feelings right now are very mixed – I feel that I could stay here for another six months or longer, because so many require so much assistance. At the same time, I’m super grateful that I’ve been able to be here and provide a little kindness and care to those with whom I’ve interacted.
Berlin has been the recipient and host to tens of thousands of Ukranian refugees who have made their way here after leaving their homeland. Berliners have opened their arms to the refugees, yet many are wondering where and how they will be accommodated if it is necessary to do so in the long(er) term. Only time will tell, but it is interesting, in speaking with locals, that no one knows how long their hospitality may be needed. Almost all Ukrainians yearn to return home, so both guests’ and hosts’ interests are aligned, notwithstanding the practical barriers and uncertainties currently in play.
Here’s a file photo of a local young woman here (not my photo, as I just arrived last night):
Photos I took last night while meandering around town:
Apologies for going off task and reverting to tourist mode here, but it felt really good last night to just stroll around a new place without thinking of anything other than how cool and beautiful it was….
I can say that the architecture here is absolutely stunning. Each street and view offers jaw-dropping scenes of magnificent and historical buildings, old combined with new and each with their own story to tell.
Off to help with feeding those who are here trying to figure out their next moves. I’ll update from Warsaw with a final wrap and reflections.
APRIL 24, 2022
Sitting in Franz Josef Airport in Munich after leaving Warsaw early this morning, heading home after an amazing four week journey.
Berlin was overflowing with volunteer assistance, and after visiting two refugee service centers, I realized that there was nothing I could do that wasn’t being done by scores of other volunteers. Germany has mobilized to meet all of the refugees’ needs and then some. It was very heartening to see, although I was itching to lend a hand.
After biking all around the city, I checked into my hotel and had one of those experiences that define a journey like this. After dropping my bag and returning my rental car, I returned to the hotel and dropped into the bar for a farewell beverage.
I introduced myself to the young ladies behind the bar, and mentioned my Polish heritage. After smiling politely, one of them told me in excellent English that she was Ukrainian and had left her home with her mother days after the war started, when her town, Ivankiv, was bombed, shelled with missiles and invaded by tank and armored personnel carriers.
Her name, Tatiana, is Russian, demonstrating the absolute insanity of Putin’s war. I asked whether her father, brother(s) and boyfriend or husband remained to fight and she told me, with incredible grace and stoicism, that her father had been killed in the first week of the war. Hearing that was a real punch to the gut, bringing the tragedy and loss home in such an intimate way, and I expressed how deeply sorry I was for her loss. I was at a loss for words, but incredibly, she only wanted to thank me for my assistance.
My time in Poland and Slovakia assisting the refugees and meeting innumerable volunteers from the States and around the world has been eye opening and laden with feelings and emotions in so many ways. I’m so glad I came, as staying home while so many innocent people suffered was something I felt that I just couldn’t do.
My hope is that Putin, a monster but not a stupid man, will soon realize that his original goals are unobtainable and that some sort of negotiated settlement will soon be agreed to. I’m not optimistic, however, because of his past ruthlessness in Georgia, Grozny, Chechnia and Syria. Whether the economic sanctions focus his mind like the sight of the noose remains to be seen. I don’t have illusions there, however.
The historic struggle now underway in Ukraine is the most epochal global event of the past eighty years. Virtually no one thought something this horrific and cataclysmic could occur again, yet the global order and post-World War II stability that Europe has enjoyed for so long have both been shattered by a madman. The Ukrainian spirit, moxie and determination has to date far outpaced everything that the Russians have tried, so I am somewhat hopeful that their morale, combined with more cutting edge and conventional weaponry from the West, will bleed the Russians until peace is sued for. In the mean time, an innocent country and its people have been cast into the cauldron of mans’ evil and darkness once again.
Thanks to everyone who has followed my blog. I’m so appreciative of all the love, support and best wishes everyone has showered upon me. Hopefully another trip like this won’t happen for a good long while, but reality often intrudes into the calm sense we have come to expect in our lives, so one never knows….
T minus 24 hours and counting. Ready to head out. Many contacts out to international, governmental and non-governmentyal organizations, most all of which appear to be scrambling frantically to put resources on the ground in Poland, Hungary, Slovakia, Romania and Moldova, Ukraine’s front line neighbors to the west. I’ll be traveling to some or all of these countries, depending on each’s needs and refugee flows. More to come after I’m on the ground…..
I’m absolutely buzzing physically at the moment. Just hopped my last Shinkansen bullet train of the trip, from Okayama to Tokyo for my last night, cold Asahi in hand and John Mayer cranking on the headphones. Yeah; Waaaaaaaaah; Sayonara….
The end of these long trips is always bittersweet. I’ve had my head around the fact that I’d be on the road for two months, so as the clock has been ticking on and on I’ve known that the end was nearing, but invariably I’m never ready to split and go home after the winds of the open road have propelled me for weeks or longer on end. Oh, well, totally psyched to get back to the states to see all my family and friends. There really is no place like home….
I feel so grateful and so blessed for this journey. It has gone so incredibly smoothly that it’s kind of hard to believe. Innumerable flights, car, boat and train rides and drives and no snafus. None, zip. That’s crazy, as Murphy’s Law invariably kicks in, especially the longer you’re truckin’.
Some photos of the past several days:
Kagoshima sunrise at the southern tip of the Japanese archipelago, looking at Mount Sakurajima, a very active volcano.
My fave, the Shinkansen bullet train. I will miss these dudes. They are the bomb.
Not even breaking a sweat….
The island of Naoshima. Wow…..a dream. Beyond cool and different. Super artsy and zen. I came here because Julie said I could not miss it. She visited last summer and was mesmerized. Thank you, Julie. I’d likely never have stumbled upon Naoshima without your urging, and it was one of the highlights of my visit to Japan.
Naoshima is an artists’ colony reachable by ferry from Uno. A number of art galleries have been built in old industrial spaces and they all flow beautifully and organically together, with inside and outside art around every corner.
A brief digression – Japan exudes quality in everything it does and makes. It’s rather ironic, as I’m old enough to remember when the words “Made in Japan” signified that the toy, tool or referenced item was a piece of junk – cheaply and poorly designed and made. My, how things have changed. These guys are world beaters in the quality design and build department today. They’re second to absolutely no one. Everything that you touch or see here is bejeweled and perfectly conceived and built. Yes, everything is quite expensive, but as they say, you get what you pay for in life. I’ll gladly pay the premium for this kind of joy.
The restaurant at my hotel last night. Perfection inside and out.
I biked around the island today. I don’t ride an e-bike, but this was all they had. Beautifully conceived and built. Zoom……..
Cruising around the island. Naoshima reminded me in some ways of Dugi Otok, the Croatian island where my Dad was born. Small fishing outposts everywhere, vistas of deep blue and green water and islands looming everywhere in the distance. The entire island – everywhere – is protected by sea walls (I can’t even imagine the cost), This is Tsunami land, so these can make the difference between getting hammered and shrugging off a big one. Again, fantastic design and execution.
I ordered a sake (there were no size options on the menu) last night and today at the best noodle restaurant I’ve ever visited and they brought me this, warm and delicious. It looked more like a pitcher than a glass, but how could I say no? It was the bomb….
The Naoshima pumpkin, a world famous art icon (not really sure why, but it is….)
Yikes – Don’t touch the art!….
Waiting for the ferry back to Uno. Art everywhere….
Snoddy asked me to include a map of my Japan vapor trails. Here they are – the first a Japan Rail Shinkansen map and the second a Google map that I couldn’t really dial in precisely. Oh, well…. I’ve basically been all over the archipelago the past eight days. I’m kind of nuts that way – I love to move around when I travel – and the combination of that love and the Shinkansen bullet trains was a match made in heaven. 1,900 miles north to south and 50 to 250 miles wide, Japan is big. It’s extremely mountainous too, as it is a volcanic island chain. So, I went from Tokyo to Sapporo to Nagano to the southwest coast, to Kyoto, Hiroshima, Kagoshima, Naoshima and back to Tokyo (I may have left a place or two out). A total blast – I’ve been in low flying planes every day and have totally dug every minute of it.
So that’s it, it’s a wrap. A killer trip, great company with Jes joining for two weeks in Cambodia, Vietnam and Tokyo and too many incredible and memorable experiences, people, landscapes, vistas and meals to count. I’m just soaking it in now, and the vibe is terrific. Gratitude is vibrating powerfully through me and I feel like a tuning fork.
A wonderful journey to a part of the world very different from everywhere else I’ve been and to places I’ve long wanted to see. So glad I came. Time to start planning the next adventure……
Visiting Hiroshima was an incredibly powerful experience. Knowing the tragic history of this city my entire lifetime, and wondering over and over again about how it could possibly have recovered – let alone flourished – literally from the ashes, has haunted me. As my journey brought me to Japan and ever closer to Hiroshima, I’ve read more about it, and my soul began to ache in the knowledge that what happened here, although many historians would argue that it was fully justified under all of the circumstances then present, was the most inhuman and cruel undertaking ever carried out by the hand of man.
If a picture can be worth a thousand words, this one may satisfy the maxim. Below is what the Japanese refer to as the A Bomb Dome. We’ve all seen photos of it, but seeing it in person and drinking it in was one of the most powerful experiences of my life. The Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall was a cultural center and architectural icon in the heart of Hiroshima before the bomb exploded and destroyed the city, killing over 120,000 civilians. Afterwards, it was virtually the only building in the city of one million that remained standing following the thermonuclear blast and firestorms that swept everything else away. As such, it is an incredibly powerful totem to what happened on August 6th, 1945 and a reminder of the unthinkable horrors of nuclear war. Many believe that it survived only because it was located almost exactly beneath where the bomb was detonated – an area known as the hypocenter. Its legacy is indelible, and it is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Imagine if you will, for a moment, the complete annihilation of everything in your life, and your life as you’ve known it, in a split-second, blinding flash. Everything – and virtually everyone who you’ve come to know and love – on fire, burning out of control, screaming, with flames and radioactive ash raining down from the sky. You have no idea what just happened, other than thinking that a bomb had directly struck your home or place of work, yet as you stagger outside and look around to find loved ones and colleagues, many buried and half-dead, you struggle to comprehend that in fact everything within your vision – and your reality – has suffered this fate. Only three colors exist – black, brown and red. It’s as though you’re in a horrible dream, but you can’t wake up….
Listening to the tales of survivors at the Hiroshima Memorial Peace Museum, a haunting yet magnificent place of remembrance, was so chilling and real that I had to remind myself to keep breathing several times. It was that intense. Sitting and staring for a long time earlier in the day and photographing The A Bomb Dome absolutely floored me. It felt like a hard punch to the gut; my wind was knocked out.
Every general and senior military officer around the world should be required to visit Hiroshima. I guarantee that their desire to wage war would thereafter be severely tempered.
OK, fewer words now and more images. That awful day and soon afterwards:This clock stopped forever the instant the first atomic bomb – code named “Little Boy” by the US military – exploded 600 meters above downtown Hiroshima.
A historical digression here – Judge Harry H. Kutner, for whom I clerked after law school, was a B-29 pilot stationed on the Island of Tinian who flew 33 bombing missions to and from the Japanese mainland and other Pacific Japanese targets. He was 23 on August 6th, 1945 and was one of six crews briefed in a hanger on Tinian the night before Little Boy was dropped on Hiroshima. He saw both Little Boy and Fat Man, which was dropped on Nagasaki two days later, on August 7th, resting on wooden pallets in the aircraft hangers there. He and the other crews that were briefed were told simply that the bomb to be delivered the next morning by one of the crews was larger and more powerful than anything that had ever been deployed. Since none of the airmen (and almost certainly their commanding officers) knew anything about the secrets of the Manhattan Project, explaining the dynamics of a thermonuclear warhead to them on the evening of August 5th would have been akin to speaking in Greek. Judge Kutner’s close friend Paul Tibbets and his crew of The Enola Gay were (whose name had been chosen only the night before in honor of his mother) were selected for the Hiroshima bombing run….. They received special protective glasses to shield against the blinding flash that would occur upon detonation and were instructed to look away from the target after the bomb bay doors had unleashed Little Man. How incredible. Judge Kutner was my mentor throughout my career, a very close personal friend and, with my Dad who also fought in the Navy in the Pacific Theater, a shining exemplar of the Greatest Generation. Judge Kutner died two years ago at 94. RIP and Merry Christmas, Judge. I know you’re looking down now from that very special place.
A small child’s bike. The seat and tires were melted off and the frame scorched almost beyond recognition.
Clothing stuck to a victim. A woman I listened to said that her son had the buttons of his pajamas melted onto his body when she found him.
Many months and surgeries later.
A Buddha, melted from the blast’s heat:
Site of the Hiroshima Castle, which stood unscathed since 1590 and was completely obliterated.
He had no chance.
OK – enough horror….. This is terribly grim to contemplate, but contemplate we must. Hiroshima today is spectacular – set among numerous beautiful rivers, encircled by gentle mountains and open and inviting throughout. You would never, ever know what terrible fate had befallen it if you simply arrived here without being told where you were. In addition, the people are very friendly, chill and happy; perhaps the happiest of any place I’ve visited yet in Japan. I think it’s my favorite place here that I’ve seen so far.
Hiroshima and its people chose life and rebirth after the horrors they experienced. It need not have been so, and it is profound testament to their individual and collective strength and resilience after living through the unimaginable destruction and pain which they suffered.
Look carefully:
The duality of Hiroshima- its tragic history, amazing recovery and glorious present – is mind-blowing to me. It is testament to mankind’s resilience and ability to recover from seemingly impossible setbacks and misfortune, and offers a powerful lesson for us today, staring down the gun barrel of ruinous climate change and habitat destruction occurring around the world as you read this.
Off to Kagoshima to check out the southern tip of Japan and Mount Sakurijima, a very big and very active volcano right next door…. Should be fun.
Yikes – Don’t touch the art!….
This clock stopped forever the instant the first atomic bomb – code named “Little Boy” by the US military – exploded 600 meters above downtown Hiroshima.
