We wish to thank our partners in this production  Orbitz Worldwide, LAN Airlines, TravelSmith, American Public Television (APT) and hosting station KQED.

This public TV special attempted to answer a simple question. If Wonder has its roots in childhood, in an uninhibited response to the beauty and mystery of the new, then what happens when we grow up? What stirs us as adults?

Richard answers this question by tracing the contours of wonder on a journey across South America. From the magnificent displays of grand nature; to the riddles that ripple through time; to the mystic power of ancient beauty; to the marvels of diversity at play on a living canvas, the Quest radiates to four of the greatest wonders on the planet, Iguaçu Falls in Brazil and Argentina; Easter Island in Chile; the ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru; and the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador.

View the Trailer:

The Telly Awards was founded in 1979 and is the premier award honoring outstanding local, regional, and cable TV commercials and programs, the finest video and film productions, and online commercials, video and films. Winners represent the best work of the most respected advertising agencies, production companies, television stations, cable operators, and corporate video departments in the world.

“The Telly Awards has a mission to honor the very best in film and video,” said Linda Day, Executive Director of the Telly Awards. “White Nile Media’s accomplishment illustrates their creativity, skill, and dedication to their craft and serves as a testament to great film and video production.”

Production Credits:

Exec-Producers:  Richard Bangs, Didrik Johnck
Director:  Val Griffith
Producers:  Didrik Johnck, Laura Hubber
Host:  Richard Bangs
Cinematography:  Karel Bauer (DP) and Didrik Johnck
Writers:  Richard Bangs, Val Griffith, Laura Hubber, and Christian Kallen
Editor:   Dan Larson
Special Segments Editor:  Margaret Andres
Post Production Color:  John Davidson Color
Post Production Audio:   Clatter & Din
Richard Bangs’ Quests Title Sequence:  Scott Finley/Mighty Media Studios
Map Animations:  Mad Bird Design
Graphics:  Howie Abernathy

About Richard Bangs Quests:

The Richard Bangs’ Quest series of public television specials is the evolution from the popular and multiple award-winning “Richard Bangs’ Adventures with Purpose” series, taking it to a new level of narrative and production values, exploring the world with the classic storytelling arc of a journey that seeks truth and beauty. It takes viewers on a passage that not only celebrates the joy and discovery of movement, and the great tourism assets of a destination, but also showcases travel that makes a difference.

About White Nile Media:

White Nile Media, Inc. (WNM) is a creative production agency whose principals (Richard Bangs, Laura Hubber, and Didrik Johnck) bring over 30 years of experience producing and distributing programming across all platforms that celebrate and truly bring to life the great destinations of the world. Our favorite place to engage the consumer is within the aspirational quality of travel, and the stories that unfold therein.  While never losing sight of fundamentals, we embrace new technologies and media, and seek to create immersive and engaging experiences for our audiences.

Photograph courtesy Environment and Animal Society of Taiwan

While scouting for the first descent of the Baro River in Ethiopia, a tributary of the White Nile, I heard about a Peace Corps volunteer, Bill Olsen, 25, a recent graduate of Cornell, who decided to take a dip in the river at Gambella, a village near the South Sudan border. The locals warned to stay away from the river, which they claimed was busy with monsters. Bill swam to a sandbar on the far side of the muddy river, and sat there, his feet on a submerged rock. He was leaning into the current to keep his balance, a rippled vee of water trailing behind him, his arms folded across his chest as he was staring ahead lost in thought.

A few minutes later friends on shore saw that Bill had vanished without trace or sound. A few more minutes later a big croc surfaced with a large, white, partially submerged object in its jaws. The next morning a hunter on safari, a Colonel Dow, sneaked up on the croc, shot it, and then dragged the carcass to the beach. He cut it open, and inside found Bill Olsen’s legs, intact from the knees down, still joined together at the pelvis. His head, crushed into small chunks, was a barely recognizable mass of hair and flesh.  A black and white photo of Bill’s twisted, bloody legs dumped in a torn cardboard box drilled into my paraconsciousness, and for days I would shut my eyes and shiver at the image.

Nonetheless, I went forward with my plans to make the first descent of the Baro River.

Above, the jungle was a brawl of flora and vines and roots.  Colobus monkeys sailed between treetops, issuing washboard cries.

Below, three specially designed inflatable white-water rafts bobbed in a back eddy, looking, from the ridge, like restless water bugs.  There were 11 of us, all white-water veterans, save Angus.  He was in the raft with me, Karen Greenwald, and John Yost, my high-school friend and partner. As the leader and the most experienced river-runner, I was at the oars.

Our raft would go first.  At the correct moment we cast off – Angus coiled the painter and gripped for the ride.  I adjusted the oars and pulled a deep stroke.  For a prolonged instant the boat hung in a current between the eddy and the fast water.  Then it snapped into motion with a list that knocked me off my seat.

“This water’s faster than I thought,” I yelled. Regaining the seat, I straightened the raft, its bow downstream. The banks were a blur of green; water shot into the boat from all sides.

Just minutes after the start of the ride, we approached the rapid.  Though we’d been unable to scout it earlier…its convex edge was clad in thick vegetation preventing a full view of the river…I had a hunch it would be best to enter the rapid on its right side.  But the river had different notions.  Despite frantic pulls on the oars, we were falling over the lip on the far left.

“Oh my God!” someone screamed.  The boat was almost vertical, falling free.  This wasn’t a rapid – this was a waterfall.  I dropped the oars and braced against the frame.  The raft crashed into a spout, folded in half, and spun.  Then, as though reprieved, we straightened and flumped onward.  I almost gasped with relief when a lateral wave pealed into an explosion on my left, picking up the raft, slamming it against the nearby cliff wall like a toy, then dumping it and us upside down into the millrace. Everything turned to bubbles.

I tumbled, like falling down an underwater staircase.  Seconds later, I surfaced in the quick water below the rapid, a few feet from the overturned raft.  My glasses were gone, but through the billows I could make out another rapid 200 yards downstream, closing in fast. I clutched at a rope and tried to tow the raft toward shore.  Behind I heard Karen: “Angus.  Go help Angus.  He’s caught in a rope!”

Crocodile Serengeti courtesy of amanderson2, on Flickr

He was trailing ten feet behind the raft, a snarl of bowline tight across his shoulder, tangled and being pulled through the turbulence.  Like the rest of us, he was wearing a sheathed knife on his belt for this very moment – to cut loose from entangling ropes.  His arms looked free, yet he didn’t reach for his knife.  He was paralyzed with fear.

I swam back to Angus, and with my left hand seized the rope at his sternum; with my right I groped for my own Buck knife. In the roiling water it was a task to slip the blade between Angus’s chest and the taut rope.  Then, with a jerk, he was free.

“Swim to shore,” I yelled.

“Swim to shore, Angus,” Karen cried from the edge of the river.

He seemed to respond.   He turned and took a stroke toward Karen.  I swam back to the runaway raft with the hope of once again trying to pull it in.  It was futile: The instant I hooked my hand to the raft it fell into the pit of the next rapid, with me in tow. My heart, already shaking at the cage of my chest, seemed to explode.

I was buffeted and beaten by the underwater currents, then spat to the surface.  For the first time, I was really scared. Even though I was swashed in water, my mouth was dry as a thorn tree.  I stretched my arms to swim to shore, but my strength was sapped.  This time I was shot into an abyss.  I was in a whirlpool, and looking up I could see the surface light fade as I was sucked deeper.  At first I struggled wildly, but it had no effect, except to further drain my small reserves.  My throat began to burn.  I became disassociated from the river and all physical environments. Then I became aware of a strange thing. The part of me that wanted to panic began to draw apart, and then flew away. There no longer seemed any but the flimsiest connection between life and death. I went limp and resigned myself to fate. I seemed to witness it all as an onlooker.

In the last hazy seconds I felt a blow from beneath, and my body was propelled upward.  I was swept into a spouting current, and at the last possible instant I broke the surface and gasped.  I tried to lift my arms; they felt like barbells.  My vision was fuzzy, but I could make out another rapid approaching, and I knew I could never survive it.  But neither could I swim a stroke.  The fear of death was no longer an issue, for that seemed already decided. But I kept moving my arms automatically, for no better reason than that there was nothing else to do. It felt like an age passed like this, my mind stuck in the realization of my fate.

Then, somehow, a current pitched me by the right bank.  Suddenly branches and leaves were swatting my face as I was borne around a bend.  I reached up, caught a thin branch, and held tight.  I crawled to a rock slab and sprawled out.  My gut seized, and I retched.  A wave of darkness washed through my head, and I passed out.

When my eyes finally focused, I saw figures foraging through the gluey vegetation on the opposite bank. John Yost was one; Lew Greenwald, another.  He had been in the third boat, and seeing him reminded me that there were two boats and seven people behind me.  How had they fared?

John paced the bank until he found the calmest stretch of river, then dived in; the water was so swift that he reached my shore 50 yards below his mark.  He brought the news: The second raft, piloted by Robbie Paul, had somehow made it through the falls upright.  In fact, Robbie was thrown from his seat into the bilge during the first seconds of the plunge, and the raft had continued through captainless.  The third boat, handled by Bart Henderson, had flipped.  Bart was almost swept under a fallen log, but was snatched from the water by the crew of Robbie’s boat.

All were accounted for – except Angus Macleod.

————–

I felt I understood the reasons for everyone’s involvement in the expedition, except Angus’s.  He was the odd man out.  I met him in Clifton, New Jersey, a few weeks before our departure.  We were introduced by a neighbor of his, Joel Fogel.  Joel liked to tell people that he was a “professional adventurer.”  He’d had a brochure printed up describing himself as “Writer, Scientist, Adventurer, Ecologist.”  Something about him seemed less than genuine, a legend in his own lunchtime, but he had hinted that he might invest in our Baro expedition, and we desperately needed money.  I agreed to hear him out.  In August Joel flew me from Arizona  to New Jersey.  I decided Joel was suffering from affluenza…coming from a wealthy family, he apparently never really worked in his life, and spent his time trying to make himself famous. In exchange for what seemed like a sizable contribution to our cause, Joel had two requests: that he be allowed to join the expedition, and that I consider letting his friend, Angus Macleod, come along as well.

I was leery of bringing along anyone outside my tight-knit, experienced coterie on an exploratory, but the lure of capital was too strong.  Joel, however, would never make it out onto the Baro.  He traveled with us to the put-in, took one look at the angry, heaving river, and caught the next bus back to Addis Ababa. He may have been the smartest of the lot.

Angus was altogether different.  While Joel smacked of presentation and flamboyance, Angus was taciturn and modest.  He confessed immediately to having never run a rapid, yet he exuded an almost irresistible eagerness and carried himself with the fluid bounce of a natural athlete.

He was ruggedly handsome and had played professional soccer, and though he had never been on a river, he had spent time sea kayaking the Jersey shore.  After spending a short time with him I could see his quiet intensity, and I believed that – despite his lack of experience – he could handle the trip, even though there would be no chance for training or special conditioning before the actual expedition.

Once in Ethiopia, Angus worked in the preparations for the expedition with a lightheartedness that masked his determination.  On the eve of our trip to Illubabor Province – a 17-hour bus ride on slippery, corrugated mountain roads – I told Angus to make sure he was at the bus station at 7 a.m. for the 11 a.m. departure.  That way we would all be sure of getting seats in the front of the bus, where the ride wasn’t as bumpy or unbearable stuffy.  But, come the next morning, Angus didn’t show until 10:45.  He got the last seat on the bus and endured.

Later, after the accident, standing on the bank of the river with John Yost, I wondered if I’d made the right decision about Angus.  We searched the side of the river where I’d washed ashore; across the rumble of the rapids we could hear the others searching.  “Angus! Are you all right? Where are you?”  There was no answer.  Just downriver from where I’d last seen him, John found an eight-foot length of rope – the piece I’d cut away from Angus’s shoulders.

After an hour John and I gave up and swam back across the river.  We gathered the group at the one remaining raft, just below the falls.

“He could be downstream, lying with a broken leg,” someone said.

“He could be hanging onto a log in the river.”

“He could be wondering in a daze through the jungle.”

Nobody suggested he could be dead, though we all knew it a possibility.  All of us had a very basic, and very difficult, decision to make, the kind of decision you never want to have to make on an expedition: Should we stay and look for Angus, or should we get out while there was still light?  Robbie, Bart, and George and Diane Fuller didn’t hesitate – they wanted out.  Karen Greenwald wanted to continue searching, but she seemed hysterical.  Against her protests, we sent her out with the others.

That left five of us – Lew Greenwald, Gary Mercado, Jim Slade, John Yost and me.  We decided to continue rafting downstream in search of Angus on the one remaining raft.  I had mixed feelings — suddenly I was scared to death of the river; it had almost killed me.  The ambient sentiment was that we could very well die. Yet I felt obligated to look for a man missing from a boat I had capsized, on an expedition I had organized.  And there was more: I felt I had to prove to myself that I had the right stuff, that I could honor the code, and do the right thing.

But the river wasn’t through with us.  When we were ready to go, I climbed into the seat of the raft and yelled for Jim to push off.  Immediately we were cascading down the course I’d swum earlier.  In the rapid that had nearly drowned me, the raft jolted and reeled, kicking Gary and me into the brawling water.

“Shit – not again,” was my only thought as I spilled out of the raft into another whirlpool.  But this time I had the bowline in hand, and I managed to pull myself quickly to the surface.  I emerged beside the raft, and Lew grabbed the back of my life jacket and pulled me in.  My right forearm was lacerated and bleeding.  Jim jumped to the oars and rowed us to shore.

My injury wasn’t bad – a shallow cut.  But Gary had dislocated his shoulder; he’d flipped backward over the gunwale while still holding onto the raft.  He was in a load of pain, and it was clear he couldn’t go on.  Lew – thankful for the opportunity – volunteered to hike him out.

John, Jim and I re-launched and cautiously rowed down a calmer stretch of the river, periodically calling out for Angus.  It was almost 6:00 PM, and we were just three degrees north of the equator, so the sun was about to set. We had to stop and make camp.  It was a bad, uncomfortable night.  Between us, we had a two-man A-frame tent, one sleeping bag, and a lunch bag of food.  Everything else had been washed into the Baro.

————–

The rude bark of a baboon shook us awake the next morning.  The inside of the tent was dripping from condensation, and we lay in a kind of human puddle.  I crawled outside and looked to the eastern sky, which was beginning to blush.  My body ached from the previous day’s ordeal.  I wanted to be back in the U.S., warm, dry and eating a fine breakfast.  Instead, we huddled around a wisp of fire, sipping weak tea and chewing wet bread.

That morning we eased downriver, stopping every few minutes to scout, hugging the banks, avoiding rapids we wouldn’t have hesitated to run were they back in the States.  At intervals we called into the rain forest for Angus, but now we didn’t expect an answer.

Late in the afternoon we came to another intimidating rapid, one that galloped around a bend and sunk from sight.  We took out the one duffel bag containing the tent and sleeping bag and began lining, using ropes to lower the boat along the edge of the rapid.  Fifty yards into the rapid, the raft broached perpendicular to the current, and water swarmed in.   Slade and I, on the stern line, pulled hard, the rope searing our palms, but the boat ignored us.  With the snap of its D-ring (the bowline attachment), it dismissed us to a crumple on the bank and sailed around the corner and out of sight.

There was no way to continue the search.  The terrain made impossible demands, and we were out of food, the last scraps having been lost with the raft.  We struck up into the jungle, thrashing through wet, waist-high foliage at a slug’s pace.  My wound was becoming infected.  Finally, at sunset the light folded up on itself and we had to stop. We cleared a near-level spot, set up the tent, squeezed in, and collapsed.  Twice I awoke to the sounds of trucks grumbling past, but dismissed it as jungle fever, or Jim’s snoring.

In the morning, however, we soon stumbled onto a road.  There we sat, as mist coiled up the tree trunks, waiting.  In the distance we could hear the thunder roll of a rapid, but inexplicably the sound became louder and louder.  Then we saw what it was: 200 machete-wielding natives marched into sight over the hill.  General Goitom, the police commissioner of nearby Motu, hearing of the accident, had organized a search for Angus.  Their effort consisted of tramping up and down the highway – the locals, it turned out, were more fearful of the jungle canyon than we were.

I remember very little of the next week.  We discovered that Angus held a United Kingdom passport, and I spent a fair amount of time at the British embassy in Addis Ababa filling out reports, accounting for personal effects, and communicating with his relatives.  John and Jim stayed in Motu with General Goitom and led a series of searches back into the jungle along the river.  We posted a cash reward – more than double what the villagers earned in a year – for information on Angus’s whereabouts.  With financial assistance from Angus’s parents, I secured a Canadian helicopter a few days after the accident and took several passes over the river.  Even with the pilot skimming the treetops, it was difficult to see into the river corridor.   The canopy seemed like a moldy, moth-eaten army tarpaulin.  On one flight, however, I glimpsed a smudge of orange just beneath the surface of the river.  We made several passes, but it was impossible to make out what it was.  Perhaps, I thought, it was Angus, snagged underwater. We picked as many landmarks as possible, flew in a direct line to the road, landed, cut a marker on a tatty dohm palm, and headed to Motu.

A day later John, Jim and I cut a path back into the tangle and found the smudge – a collection of leaves trapped by a submerged branch.  We abandoned the search.

In November I got a call from a friend, a tour operator.  A trek he’d organized to the Sahara had been canceled by the Algerian government, and his clients wanted an alternative.  Would I be interested in taking them to Ethiopia for a trek?  Two weeks later I arrived in Addis Ababa, where I met up with John Yost, Jim Slade, and a trainee-guide, Gary Bolton, fresh from a SOBEK raft tour of the Omo River.  They were surprised to see me, here where nobody expected I would return.

By late December, after escorting a commercial trek through the Bale Mountains of southern Ethiopia, John, Jim, and I were wondering what to do next, and the subject of the unfinished Baro came up. The mystery of Angus still gnawed at all of us. I confessed that over the months, sometimes in the middle of a mundane chore — taking out the trash, doing the laundry — I’d stop and see Angus’s frozen features as I cut him loose.  In weak moments I would wonder if there just might be a chance that he was still alive.  And I’d be pressed with a feeling of guilt, that I hadn’t done enough, that I had waded in waist deep, then turned back. And I wondered how Angus had felt in those last few minutes — about himself, about me. Jim and John admitted to similar feelings, and we collectively decided to try the Baro once again. We needed a fourth, and Gary Bolton agreed to join as well.

This time we put-in where I had taken out almost two years before, at the terminus of a long jungle path. Again, we had a single raft, with the minimum of gear to make portaging easier. The river pummeled us, as it had before, randomly tossing portages and major rapids in our path. But during the next few days, the trip gradually, almost imperceptibly, became easier.  On Christmas morning I decorated a bush with my socks and passed out presents of party favors and sweets.  Under an ebony sapling I placed a package of confections for Angus.  It was a curiously satisfying holiday, being surrounded by primeval beauty and accompanied by three other men with a common quest.  No one expected to find Angus alive, but I thought that the journey — at least for me — might expunge some doubt, exorcise guilt.  I wanted to think that I had done all humanly possible to explore a death I was partly responsible for.  And somehow I wanted him to know this.

As we tumbled off the Abyssinian massif into the Great Rift Valley of Africa, taking on tributaries every few miles, the river and its rapids grew.  At times we even allowed ourselves to enjoy the experience, to shriek with delight, to throw heads back in laughter as we bounced through Colorado-style white water and soaked in the scenery.  Again, we found remnants of the first trip – a broken oar here, a smashed pan there.  Never, though, a hint of Angus.

After one long day of portaging, I went to gather my wetbag, holding my clothes, sleeping bag and toilet kit, and it was nowhere to be found. Apparently, it had been tossed out during one of the grueling portages. I trekked back upstream for a couple miles, but could find nothing, and it was getting dark, so I picked my way back to the raft and the plain pasta dinner John was cooking. At that moment, I had no worldly possessions, save the torn shorts I was wearing, my socks and tennis shoes, and the Buck Knife that hung from my pants. I slept in a small cave that night, rolled up like a hedgehog, with no sleeping bag, no pad, but I slept well. With the morning, I awoke fresh and energized, ready for the day, and though I had practically nothing to call my own, I felt a richness for the moment…I was with friends, on a mission, and was touching something primal. In an odd way, this all seemed liberating…no accoutrements to weigh down the soul…just a clear, present reason for going forward, for being. And I allowed something that would be called joy to wash over me.

On New Year’s Eve we camped at the confluence of the Baro and the Bir-Bir rivers, pulling in as dusk was thickening to darkness.  A lorry track crossed the Baro opposite our camp.  It was there that Conrad Hirsh, the professor from the second Baro attempt, had said he would try to meet us with supplies.  We couldn’t see him, but Jim thought there might be a message waiting for us across the river.  “I think I’ll go check it out,” he said.

“Don’t be a fool,” John warned. “We’re in croc country now.  You don’t want to swim across this river.” We weren’t far from where Bill Olsen, the Peace Corps volunteer, was chomped in half while swimming.

An hour later, just after dark, Jim had not returned. We shouted his name, first individually, then as a chorus.  No answer.  Jim had become a close friend in the two years since we shared a tent on the upper Baro; he had been a partner in ordeal and elation, in failure and success.  Now John and I swept our weak flashlight beams along the dark river.  We gave up.  We were tired, and we sat around the low licks of our campfire, ready to accept another loss, mapping out the ramifications in our minds.  Suddenly Jim walked in from the shadows and thrust a note at us.

“Conrad arrived three day ago, waited two, and left this morning,” he said, his body still dripping from the swim.

“You fool! I knew you couldn’t disappear now — you owe me $3.30 in backgammon debts.”  I clucked with all the punitive tone I could muster.

The following day we spun from the vortex of the last rapid into the wide, Mississippi-like reaches of the lower Baro.  Where rocks and whirlpools were once the enemy, now there were crocodiles and hippos.  We hurled rocks, made threatening gestures, and yelled banshee shrieks to keep them away.  Late in the day on January 3, 1976, we glided into the outpost town of Gambella.  The villagers there had neither seen nor heard of Angus Macleod.

Postcard from Ethiopia by Rugscape, on Flickr

I never told Angus’s relatives of our last search; we didn’t find what might have given them solace.  What I found I kept to myself, buried treasure in my soul. It was the knowledge of the precious and innate value of endeavor.

I wanted to believe that when Angus boarded my tiny boat and committed himself, he was sparked with life and light, that his blood raced with the passion of existence –perhaps more than ever before. As we first launched our rafts on the Baro ten of us thought we knew what we were doing: another expedition, another raft trip, another river.  Only Angus was exploring beyond his being.  Maybe his was a senseless death, moments after launching, in the very first rapid.  I would never forget the look of horror in his eyes as he struggled there in the water.   But there were other ways to think about it.  He took the dare and contacted the outermost boundaries.  He lost, but so do we all, eventually.  The difference, — and it is an enormous one — is that he reached for it, wholly.

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Event Type: Adult
Age Group(s): Adults, Teens
Date: 4/25/2013
Start Time: 7:30 PM
End Time: 8:30 PM

Library: Richard Byrd Library, Springfield, VA    Directions
Location: Richard Byrd Meeting Room 1/2
Link: Listen to an interview with the author

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Richard Bangs: 10 Greatest Adventures For 2013

*** Click any image to see a list of trips for that location.

The Best of South America (Iguazu, Easter Island, Machu Picchu, Galapagos) If there is a geography of wonder, it is South America, and it is now possible to stitch together the four greatest wonders of the continent, including Iguazu (on the border of Brazil and Argentina), the waterfalls that make Niagara pale; Easter Island (Chile), where the origin mysteries still stir with giant statues that stare into an unknown past; Machu Picchu (Peru), the mystical hidden citadel high in the Andes; and the Galapagos Islands (Ecuador), the great living museum of wildlife diversity.	North Korea North Korea has been closed to Americans for 60 years, but the doors have opened a crack. I led a group to the Hermit Kingdom last fall, and it was like dropping into the Rabbit Hole, an alternative reality unlike any other place on the planet. It is 80% mountainous, and is strikingly beautiful, with parks similar to Yosemite and Zion. Pyongyang, the capital, offers up the world’s best preserved open-air museum of socialist architecture, and a chance to bow beneath the most amazing Ozymandias statuary.	Nicaragua It was unthinkable not long ago to vacation in Nicaragua, but now, fully bathed in peace, and blessed with preternatural beauty, it is a beginning blip on the adventure travelers’ radar. Lago de Nicaragua, a lake too vast to see across, second largest in all the tropics, where 25 years ago guerrillas skulked among the broad-leafed trees of the 365 volcanic islands, is now garlanded with eco-lodges, kayakers and volcano seekers. Some of the best surfing in the world is on the Pacific Coast. Once a hot spot, now a hot spot of a pleasanter sort.
Egypt There really has never been a better time to visit Egypt. I was there a month ago with my five-year-old-son and was delighted by the lack of tourist crowds — and the overabundance of hospitality and service. Tourism, like the Nile, is lifeblood to Egypt, but visitors have stayed away with the news of internal political jockeying, and so the country is moving smartly to bring them back with a wide welcome mat. The Library of Alexandria is a favorite, and the whole of the North Coast, all the way to the Libyan border, is opening up new resorts and activities. I plan to return this winter. Now is the time for Egypt!	Guangdong, China What a discovery for me. Just a few hours north of Hong Kong or Macau the belly of the earth has bulged, wrenched and kinked in Danxia Mountain Park. There are spirits clad in emerald forest and red stone. Part of a UNESCO World Heritage site, the nearly 70,000 acres of the park are nature’s great sculpture garden. This otherworldly landscape, looking more like the contours of the moon than an earthbound park, is enveloped by a warm, humid climate, which helps conserve great stretches of sub-tropical forest. Within this sanctuary more than 400 rare or threatened plant and animal species thrive in evergreen protection. And nearby are spectacular caverns, and a mighty gorge called Guangdong’s Grand Canyon. At nearly a thousand feet deep and nine miles long, this is a gaping call to adventure. The canyon’s diadem of glory is the Chengtou Waterfall, which fonts from a high ravine like an unleashed dragon.	Zanskar River, Ladakh, India Ladakh, also known as Little Tibet, is a kingdom at the top of the world, in the throne room of the mountain gods, somewhere between mystery and imagination. The Zanskar, a river deeper and more stunning than the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, cracks the Himalayas like an egg. It is Shangri-La manifested, a wild river of Buddhist temples, monasteries, ibex and snow leopards.
Rogue River I’ve run most of the wild and scenic rivers in North America, and my favorite is the Rogue. It has thrilling rapids, stunning alpine scenery, crisp, clear water, beautiful white sand camping beaches and a waterslide to which Six Flags can only aspire. And my only credit on IMDb is as a stuntman on the Rogue for a made-for-TV movie, Killing at Hell’s Gate.	Zambia Zambia is Zamazing. Not only does it have the largest game park in Africa (Kafue) and walking safaris in the park with the most wildlife (South Luangwa), but it hosts the largest falling sheet of water in Africa, Victoria Falls, and the wildest rafting in the continent, down the Zambezi. (I confess, I made the first descent.) And it has the best place to get unplugged: The Kafue River Camp.	Bosnia Sometimes good things come out of war. Bosnia possesses what the rest of Europe has lost, as the country’s natural resources were not exploited during the conflicts. The result: the cleanest water and air in Europe; the greatest untouched forests; and the most wildlife. The best way to experience is the three rivers trip, which purls through the best the Balkans have to offer.
Ireland Yes, it has the best beer in the world, the oldest scotch distillery and the first Irish Coffee, but it also offers up some of the most dramatic scenery in Europe, great hiking and mountain biking and, in Belfast, the new stunning museum, Titanic Belfast (at the bar next door you can order a gin & Titonic).	Ethiopia Ethiopia is the Tibet of Africa, with an average elevation of 8,000 feet and some of the highest peaks in the continent. It also is the source of the Blue Nile, running through The Grand Canyon of Africa, and the Omo River in the south, along which some of the most intact tribal cultures in the world survive… for now. It is the only country in Africa never to be colonized, and so the cultures run deep and untainted. The Queen of Sheba ruled in the north. The Ark of the Covenant is supposedly hidden here. Good luck…	Costa Rica It has been called the Happiest Place on Earth and is infused with a spirit called Pura Vida. It pours with the best rafting in Central America, has the best eco-lodges, more zip-lines than anyplace else on earth, great surfing and some of the finest primary rainforest left.
Borneo (Sarawak and Sabah, Malaysia) It hosts the highest mountain in SE Asia, Mt. Kinabalu; the largest concentration of wild orangutans in the world; the greatest rainforests on the planet; some of the deepest caves; and of course the ambitious Dayaks, always looking to get a head.

Since 1991, Somaliland has been a well-governed peaceful de facto independent country.  It protects women’s rights, wants to help in the war on Islamic terrorism, is building democratic and free market institutions, and wants to be allied with the West.  Plus it’s in a vitally strategic location.  Yet neither the US nor any UN member state recognizes its existence.

This is not a trip for everyone, as it has the unknowns and non-ironed elements of a first foray, a pioneering adventure for those who embrace the bleeding edge of travel.

BOOKING DETAILS:

To Book or for more information contact Laura Roundy at Mountain Travel Sobek: laura@mtsobek.com or call (510) 594-6009 or (800) 282-8747 Ext 6009. I hope you can join us.

ITINERARY

 Djibouti – Arrival Day 1. From there we head to Somaliland, and visit the greatest profusion of prehistoric rock art in East Africa, the extraordinary wonders of Laas Gheel: Thirsty? We’ll visit the remotest Coca-Cola bottling plant in the world . Then to the plant that exports to France its Biblical aromatics, frankincense and myrrh. Then to the infamous Hargeisa Camel Market.

President Silanyo and his wife, First Lady Asmina, at the presidential offices will welcome us on Day 2.  Then to Puntland and the thriving port city of Bosaso on Day 3. Day starts with an unforgettable flight around the actual Horn of Africa, overflying the geographical apex of the Horn at Cape Guardafui (Aromata Promontorium or Cape of Spices for the Romans). Then across the center of the Puntland desert to the remote oasis of Iskushuban, where almost no outsider has ever been.   And afterwards lunch with Puntland President, Abdirahman Mohamud Farole.

Thanksgiving in Mogadishu on Day 4 – November 28 As this New York Times article reports, the city is having a “remarkable comeback,” with its 3 million people determined to rebuild their lives out of vast destruction and rubble. We’ll meet with Somali President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud in his presidential office.  We end the day celebrating Thanksgiving with a sumptuous lobster feast at Ahmed Jama’s The Village restaurant.

Day 5 – Out through Istanbul and then home.

BOOKING DETAILS:

To Book or for more information contact Laura Roundy at Mountain Travel Sobek: laura@mtsobek.com or call (510) 594-6009 or (800) 282-8747 Ext 6009. I hope you can join us.

I’ve put together a 9-day adventure  through the spellbinding Albanian Alps, across stunning National Parks and World Heritage sites, into the Albanian Riviera, rafting the wild Osumi River, and through Kosovo, the ‘Youngest’ Country in Europe.

BOOKING DETAILS:

To Book or for more information contact Tara Starr-Keddle at Mountain Travel Sobek: tara@mtsobek.com or call (510) 594-6009 or (800) 282-8747 Ext 6017. Visit their trip page for additional details and photos. I hope you can join us.

ITINERARY

Day 1 : Arrive in Tirana, Albania – Shkodra – Crown of the Albanian Alps

Your trip leader (or a representative) will meet you at 2:00pm outside the customs and immigration area at the airport in Tirana, Albania. We suggest you arrive by 1:00pm to allow time to get through customs and immigration. We’ll then  transfer to Shkodra, the oldest and largest town of Northern Albania –  as well as an important cultural and economic center.

Shkodra is an important city in the Western Balkans, due to its geostrategic positioning near the Adriatic and Italian ports.  It also links together land-routes to other important cities and towns in neighboring regions. Shkodra is also importance because of the Lake of Shkodër just west of the city—the largest in the Western Balkans—which straddles Albania and neighboring Montenegro.

In Shkoder, we’ll visit the Rozafa Fortress perched on the top of a hill overlooking Lake Shkodra, the town of Shkodra, and the crown of the Albanian Alps in the horizon.  After a short walk in the old town center, with its buildings reflecting an Italian architectural style, it will be time to enjoy a traditional dinner at a nearby restaurant, where local musicians will play live folk music.

Day 2 : Boat Trip in Lake Komani – Afternoon in the Heart of the Accursed Mountains

A morning transfer will bring us to the docks of Komani to board a spectacular boat trip through the fjord-like Lake Komani.  Lake Komani is one of the largest artificial lakes in Albania, being 45 miles long, possessing a surface area of over 20,000 acres, and containing 40 coves and inlets. The lake was created in 1978 by the construction of the Fierza hydroelectric facility bordering on all three of the region’s districts of the region. The lake is home to 13 species of fish, mollusks, crabs, and amphibians.

About three hours of spectacular floating on a traditional locally built boat will take us by 44 miles of steep mountain faces, that once were known as The Canyon of River Drin – before the Fierza and Koman hydropower dams were constructed in the 1970’s, flooding the river bed.

After arriving at the Fierza docs, a short transfer alongside the Valbona River will bring us to the center of the Valbona Valley – one of the most beautiful alpine valleys of Northern Albania, surrounded by the jagged peaks of the Accursed Mountains.  Here we will enjoy lunch with a local village family who will prepare for us homemade dishes made with local produce.  In the afternoon we will explore on foot the surroundings of the valley in the company of Catherine, an American from New York who moved to Valbona after falling in love with the place.  Tonight we will overnight in a mountain hotel in the very center of the Valbona Valley.

Day 3 : Kosovo the ‘Youngest’ Country in Europe

Today we leave Valbona and cross the border in to Kosovo, where our first visit will be to the Visoki Deçan Monastery near the town of Peja – a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Located in a picturesque chestnut grove, this 14^thcentury Serb monastery is a beautiful monument built in the Romanesque and Gothic styles with impressive frescoes inside. In 2004, UNESCO listed the monastery on the list of World Heritage Sites, citing its frescoes as “one of the most valued examples of the so-called Palaeologan renaissance in Byzantine painting,” and “a valuable record of life in the 14th century”.

After our visit, we’ll drive on through Peja, continuing further to our lunch spot at a traditional restaurant serving meals made with local produce inside the Gorge of Rrugova – one of the major natural parks of Kosovo – giving us beautiful views of an alpine landscape very similar to the Alps of Europe.

In the afternoon we’ll reach Pristina, stopping on the way to visit the Kosovo Battle Memorial of Gazimestan – a monument commemorating the historical Battle of Kosovo between the Balkan and Ottoman invading armies in 1389. The monument was designed and built in 1953 in the shape of a medieval tower.  Our evening will be spent in Pristina, the ‘youngest’ capital of Europe, characterized by the ‘New Born’ concrete letters in the town center.  After a traditional dinner, we’ll overnight in a hotel near the old town center.

Day 4 : The Winery of Rahovec – Historic Towns of Prizren and Kruja

After a relaxed breakfast and some free time in the center, we will leave Pristina behind, and head towards the vine covered rolling hills of Rahovec, considered to be ‘the Tuscany of Kosovo,’ because most of the country’s wine is produced here.  We’ll stop to visit one of the best wineries of Rahovec, and enjoy a taste of the finest wines of the region with cheese from the nearby Sharr Mountains.

We’ll then continue to nearby Prizren – historically one of the most important towns of Kosovo.  Built on the foothills of the imposing Sharr Mountain range, Prizren has preserved the relaxed atmosphere inherited from centuries of Ottoman dominion, especially with its historic center divided by the stream of Bistrica, which we will visit on foot. Shadowed by minarets, Orthodox monasteries, and hill top fortress walls, the town center has the feel of a large bazaar, where modern shops and restaurants blend with small craft boutiques, delis, terraces where people play backgammon sipping coffee and tea, and a myriad of traditional ‘kebap’ and sweet shops. We’ll have lunch in one of the best known traditional restaurants of Prizren, on the promenade by the riverside.

After lunch, we’ll continue on to Kruja, taking the scenic mountain highway known as ‘The Road of the Nation’ – because it connects Kosovo to Albania.  From the fortress of Kruja, national hero George Kastriot Skanderbeg led the heroic Albanian resistance of the Ottomans in the 14th century, creating a barrier to the invasion of Europe, and vanquishing three major sieges led by Sultans themselves.

After checking in to our hotel, we’ll visit the Museum of Skanderbeg within the citadel of Kruja, and then have some free time to walk the avenues lined with souvenirs and crafts that lead back to our hotel.  Dinner tonight is in a nice hotel by the Old Bazaar and fortress.

Day 5 : Berat and Vlora

Today we leave Kruja and head towards the historic town of Berat (an UNESCO World Heritage Site).  Berat, ‘The city of 1000 windows,’ lies on the right bank of the Osum River, and is home to a wealth of beautiful buildings of high architectural and historical interest. The pine forests above the city, on the slopes of the towering Tomorr Mountains, provide an impressive background of awe-inspiring grandeur. The Osumi River has cut a 3,000-foot deep gorge through limestone rock on the west side of the valley, forming a natural fortress around which the town was built on several river terraces. According to Albanian legend, Tomorr Mountain was originally a giant who fought with another giant, called Shpirag, over a young woman. They killed each other, and the woman drowned in her own tears, creating the Osum River.

The citadel district of ‘Kala’ located on top of the right bank hill, has a rich history dating more than 2,400 years back in civilization. Upon arrival we will visit the ‘Kala’ neighborhood and the outstanding Onufri Icons Museum – named after the famous Albanian medieval painter (several of his best works are exposed here) – housed inside the Saint Mary church in the center of the citadel, as well as few of the citadel’s frescoed orthodox churches. Afterwards, we’ll have lunch in a traditional restaurant in the old Mangalem district, enjoying regional specialties.

In the afternoon we’ll drive south towards Vlora – the second largest coastal town in the country, and the town where 101 years ago (in 1912), the Albanian patriots, proclaimed the independence from the Ottoman Empire, making it the first capital of modern Albania.  Here in this strategically located bay of the Mediterranean, Vlora was founded (6th Century BC) by Greek colons, and was known in antiquity by the name of Aulon. Through the centuries the town has been an important trade center of the Adriatic, and is today one of the top touristic coastal towns of Albania.  We’ll enjoy a stop at the center, then spend the evening along the waterfront, with dinner in a fine restaurant.

Day 6 : The Peninsula of Karaburun – Llogora National Park

After breakfast, a short drive will bring us to the Orikum Marina where we’ll embark on a boat ride to the Karaburun Peninsula – the most remote and spectacular part of the Albanian coast, and a remarkable marine wildlife sanctuary of the Mediterranean. The western part of the peninsula is characterized by sheer cliffs that more than 4,920-feet above sea level, and are intersected by caves and a small number of beautiful gravel beaches.

Along the way, we’ll visit the cathedral-size limestone cave of pirate Haxhi Ali, as well as a few secluded beaches along the turquoise water which is perfect for swimming – including Dafina, Bristan, and the outstanding Grama Bay. We’ll stop at a small rustic beach cabana owned by local fisherman who will prepare for us a fresh fish barbecue lunch to be enjoyed while gazing at beautiful views on the Vlora Bay and Sazan Island.

In the afternoon we’ll return by boat to the marina and begin our drive uphill through the impressive valley of Dukat, with the sun at our backs as it sets over the Adriatic Sea.  In less than one hour we’ll arrive in the alpine landscape of Llogora National Park, where our hotel is located amidst the freshness of the pine forests. Here we’ll dine on typical mountain dishes of the Laberia –  the southern highlands.

Day 7 : The Albanian Riviera and Butrint

Our morning hike takes us on a trail that winds through pine forests on the slopes of the 6,560-feet high Mount Çika until we reach the plateau of Dhjopur, experiencing some of the most spectacular mountain and sea views of the Mediterranean along the way as the slopes descend all the way to the unspoiled beach of Palasa, meeting the blue waters of the Ionian Sea.   At the end of our hike, we’ll continue with a scenic drive towards the town of Saranda.  This scenic drive takes us along the beautiful Albanian Riviera, with its characteristic Mediterranean villages such as Dhermi, Vuno, Himara and Qeparo.  Time permitting, we’ll stop in Porto Palermo Bay for a short walk to the fortress of Ali Pasha of Tepelena, built in the central promontory, from which the once top-secret communist submarines naval base could be seen.

In the afternoon, we’ll continue further south of Saranda to visit the well-known Archaeological Park of Butrint – also part of the UNESCO World Heritage List.  Ancient Buthrotum served as a harbor from pre-Hellenistic, to Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman times, as the fascinating ruins and excavations will tell. Located between the Straight of Corfu and the Butrint Lagoon, this place is also an environmental heaven for many species of birds, fish, tortoises and rare vegetation.  Dinner tonight is in a fine restaurant in Saranda.

Day 8 : Rafting in the Vjosa Valley

After breakfast, we’ll transfer to the River Vjosa Valley over the panoramic pass of Muzina and the picturesque Gorge of Kelcyra.  Several miles upstream from the town of Permet, we’ll board our rafts for a scenic float on class 2 rapids alongside the imposing 8,200-feet high Nemerçka mountain range, the highest mountains of southern Albania.  At the end of our float, we’ll enjoy a traditional lunch with fresh local produce in a rural setting near the Ottoman bridge and the thermal springs of Benja.

In the afternoon we’ll drive to Gjirokaster, known as ‘the town of stone’ because of the characteristic grey stone houses connected by limestone cobbled alleys (UNESCO listed).  Our hotel is located near the historic center.

Day 9 : Tirana – the Capital of ‘New Europe’

After breakfast we’ll visit the historic neighborhood which is dominated by a characteristic fortress and clock tower, and the Museum of Ethnography. Gjirokaster is the hometown of Dictator Enver Hoxha, as well as internationally acclaimed writer Ismail Kadare.

Later we’ll continue with a transfer to Tirana, stopping for lunch along the way in a seafood restaurant in Durres – the second largest town of Albania, and a historic port of the Adriatic.  Time permitting, we’ll have a quick visit to the Roman Amphitheatre in the center of town.

After arriving Tirana in the afternoon, we’ll walk through ‘Blloku,’ the most vibrant old quarter of Tirana – once the ‘forbidden district’ inhabited by the communist nomenclature – to Skanderbeg Square, where we will visit the Et’hem Bej Mosque, the Bazaar, Tabaket Bridge and other attractions that cannot be missed.  Our festive farewell dinner tonight is in a fine restaurant in town.

Day 10 : Departure

This morning we’ll have some free time before departing for the airport and our departure flights home.

BOOKING DETAILS:

To Book or for more information contact Tara Starr-Keddle at Mountain Travel Sobek: tara@mtsobek.com or call (510) 594-6009 or (800) 282-8747 Ext 6017. Visit their trip page for additional details and photos. I hope you can join us.

Never too Cool Adventure and peace. Fine cuisine. Friendly, homey diners. Breathtaking vistas. A quaint covered bridge over a babbling brook…

Spirit of Place There is a spirit here that goes beyond language, beyond age, beyond anything material. It is a spirit that cannot be subdued or softened. It is a powerful blend of faith, creativity, independence and courage. It is a spark where creative beginnings are always possible. It is the spirit of the Catskills.

Restoration People, more than things, more than hardware, need to be restored, renewed, reclaimed and repaired. And for more than 200 years folks have been coming to the Catskills for the waters, for the clean air, for the mystic healing powers of the woods and mountains, for the wellsprings of well-being.

Microbrews & Megabites Catch a glimpse behind-the-scenes of the Lake Placid Brewery and Pub with owner Christopher Ericson and his signature microbrew, Ubu Ale. Then follow it up with a meal at the The View, the only Four Diamond restaurant in Lake Placid, sitting in the Mirror Lake Lodge.

Olympic Sized Experience The Olympic experience is alive and well in Lake Placid. Meet Jim Rogers, a member of the 1980 Lake Placid Olympic Organizing Committee and continuing champion for the region. Maybe take a spin on luge or a bobsled…

Forever Wild It’s not just an official designation for this area, it’s a state of mind. Why…?? see or better yet, experience it for yourself.

Winter Adventureland From a dazzling sunrise illuminating snow-covered mountains to the alpenglow of sunset. Snow yourself with one of the most colorful, action-packed winters on the east coast. Revel in unique winter festivals and challenge yourself on the slopes or ice-skate under a canopy of brilliant stars.

I

Read the full article, with additional features, on MSNBC.com

But there is recognition that if I had rounded these same corners without having digested all the prior portrayals and reports, I would have been awed by my personal interpretation of reality.

Myths built a bridge between human comprehension and eternity. . .

So, shortly thereafter Agapi and I meet in Athens, and immediately she pulls me along like an earthbound kite on a journey to understand the impact of Greek mythology today.

More about Richard Bangs’ Adventures with Purpose — Greece: Quest for the Gods, with Agapi Stassinopoulos

In the shop of a modern silversmith we find echoes of Hephaestus, the Olympian god of fire and the forge. The blacksmiths of ancient times crafted tools and jewelry from bronze and iron, and today’s metal workers continue that tradition creating intricate works by hand. Hephaestus was the embodiment of man’s unquenched creativity—the creativity that forged the bridge between primordial dependence on nature and our industrial world.

The day following we venture south of the city to explore the time-cracked hills and seaside cliffs of Cape Sounion, surrounded on three sides by an infinity of sea. This is a place of rarefied silence, broken by the powerful secret language of the winds, and the whispers of the waters. Even the Romantic poet Lord Bryon found inspiration in this sea-sprayed vista. He wrote:

Read this article as originally presented on MSNBC

The next day, after the hangovers clear, we head to Olympia. It’s said that Zeus himself organized the first Olympic Games here in 776 BC, in the aftermath of his victory over Chronos, his father, for the domination of the world. But it’s not Zeus Agapi wants to discuss … rather it is Hermes, who is depicted in statue at the museum, seeming at the threshold of life. God of flight, commerce, and travelers, Hermes was the messenger of the gods. He was also a guide who showed the way for the dead souls to Hades’ realm.