guided tours | Stowaway Travel Writing & Editorial Services

Short-term tours are a risky prospect. They’re usually organized to see one particular attraction, so that’s the focus, but all tours add stops along the way to make you feel you’ve got good value for your money. The main risk lies in the guide—will she hurry everyone along to keep to a strict schedule, then linger far too long at overpriced souvenir stands; or will he appreciate that everyone wants to take photos and admire the scenery, and not pressure everyone to get going? There are other risks, too—will the food be decent, will the transportation be comfortable, will the other people on the tour be fun?

The road to Colca Canyon

4800 meters above sea level

I’m not a long-term tour kind of traveler; I like my independence too much to follow a guide around for 8 days in a row and stick to their schedule. But there are some attractions that are extremely difficult or expensive to see on my own, and that’s when I turn to short-term tours, like visiting the Cu Chi Tunnels outside Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam or driving out to the Škocjan Caves in Slovenia. For the weekend of my birthday this year, I decided to risk a short-term tour to the Colca Canyon in southern Peru. I lucked out—it was a good tour.

Llama crossing

The best part of the tour (other than the stunning, jaw-dropping, give-up-on-adjectives-because-this-country-is-too-beautiful scenery) was the guide, Elizabeth. She does this tour multiple times a week, gripping a microphone in one hand and the rail of the careening bus in the other, but she’s a pro, never giving any indication that this was tiring work or that she was bored repeating the same information over and over.

Coca tea–wake up!

She also asked the driver to stop multiple times along the road in the national park, and let us have more time to take photos than most other bus groups I saw on the same road. Granted, this meant we arrived in the valley town of Chivay an hour later than scheduled, but that didn’t affect anything, because we had a cushion of time in town anyway. Elizabeth also gave the entire tour in two languages—she’d give a little speech in Spanish for the 23 Spanish speakers on the bus, and then she’d repeat the whole thing in English for the 3 of us who couldn’t get past “gracias.” Impressive!

Piles of stones for wishes

Back to that stunning scenery: The land around the canyon is a vast, brown desert, and it was surprising to see the landscape change drastically into lush, terraced farmland after an hour or two of driving. “Colca” roughly translates to “granary” in Quechua, and that’s exactly how the Incas used this region when they conquered it—as the bread basket of the empire. Before the Incas got there, two ethnic groups populated the valley, building their terraces first at the top of canyon, the better to look down and see any advancing enemies, and then moving farther down into the canyon as their population grew (and later, as the Incas demanded more taxes in the form of crops).

Chivay and some terraces from the road into town

By the time the Spanish arrived, about 60,000 people lived in the canyon. After only four years of their “mine all the gold, import all the diseases, take food from the locals” approach, the local population dwindled to 45,000. Today, 10,000 people live in the area, 7,000 of them concentrated in the town of Chivay. Agriculture and tourism tie for the main industries in the area.

Terraced farming in the Colca Canyon

Agriculture, as Elizabeth described it to us, includes not just the terraces of grains and vegetables, but the plains populated with llamas and alpacas. Both llamas and alpacas have been domesticated for hundreds of years. They’re herded across the vast desert terrain and along the craggy tops of the canyon walls, and every so often they’re sheared, and the hair is used for super warm clothing and rugs.

Alpacas

There’s also an animal called a vicuña, which is wild and protected by the Peruvian government. They’re the same type of animal as the llama and the alpaca, a camelid, but they’re much rarer. Their hair is even softer and the clothes made from it even more expensive. (Apparently, there’s a hefty fine for anyone without a license who tries to shear one, and even a jail sentence.) The road leading to the canyon is dotted with signs warning drivers to decrease their speed, because vicuñas graze here.

Vicunas grazing on the reserve

One of the ways to cope with the incredibly high altitude of the Andes is to chew on coca leaves. Coca leaves, of course, are the stimulant used in Coca-Cola (they say they don’t use the leaves anymore, but Elizabeth said Peru sells thousands of tons of coca to the company every year, so…), and also one of the ingredients used in producing cocaine. Locals drink coca tea and chew on the leaves, to aid in digestion, alertness, and access to oxygen. Elizabeth showed us how to do it—roll up at least 9 leaves around some ash, which acts as a catalyst, stick it in your back teeth, and chew for at least 20 minutes. It made the left side of my face numb. I suppose I did feel a little more alert, but it’s probably not a habit I’ll pick up.

It’s like nature’s Novocaine

Oh and in answer to the other questions about short-term tours: the food was pretty good but a little overpriced, the bus seats were a little small but otherwise it was comfortable, and the people were nice.

Next week, in Part 2: an elegant central plaza, traditional dances at a peña, and condors soaring through the mountains

Goodnight, moon

I had a mixed experience in paradise. The islands of Thailand are gorgeous, no question, but they’re also woefully underprotected and poorly maintained. For as long as Thailand has been a vacation destination, you’d think there’d be more regulations in place to protect the delicate ecosystem that everyone’s excited to see. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. There are a few islands that are national parks, but those aren’t watched very carefully, and new (illegal) developments go up all the time.

Longtail boats in Thailand

Tons of tours go out to the islands every day, and there aren’t enough trash cans or port-a-potties for the number of tourists that tear through there. Trash literally piles up on the beach. Pools of motor oil form in the bays as longtail boats maneuver in and out of the tight spaces. Snorkeling reveals little in many places, as the water’s cloudy with pollution. Way too many people amass on each tiny beach and spoil the view and the experience. And of course, as I was always aware, I was part of the problem, just by being there.

I saw at least four Navy ships guarding the perimeter of the waters near the royal residence–we’d be shot on sight if we got too close!

And yet, it’s still beautiful, worth visiting and admiring. I went on a tour to Hong Island, which included stops in the shallows of Deng Island and the bay of Paradise Island, and a detour past some ships guarding the princess’s summer residence. Probably about 40 of us piled on to a longtail boat with a driver and a guide (whose name I forget, unfortunately) and off we went into the bright sunshine.

Tiny Deng Island

Deng Island was a tiny rock with some scrubby bush upon it, and we anchored next to it for a quick snorkeling session. But the sea was choppy and most people didn’t last long in the water. At one point, we heard a scream from a woman who, turns out, doesn’t know how to swim but had jumped in with her life jacket anyway; she found the rough waves too much to handle. Just before we got back in the boat, a huge school of yellow-white fish swirled up around us, causing everyone to exclaim that now would be a good time to snorkel. But when you’re on a tour you don’t have time to delay, so we carried on.

In the lagoon at Hong Island, pre-speedboats

Paradise Island turned me off initially with the piles of trash not far from shore and the tourists sweating sunscreen into the water, but once I swam a little away from the crowd, I liked it much more. I snorkeled in the space between the island and the rock form next to it, and found lots of interesting colored coral–waving red ferns, shocks of purple stalks. It was a nice little stop, although I’m sure it’s vastly different from what it was even five years ago.

Here I go!

We had lunch at Hong Island and then split up; most people set up on the beach for some sunbathing, and about 15 of us who’d paid a bit extra got into kayaks. They were two-person kayaks, but the guide decided I was too heavy to share, so he had me sit in the middle and pilot one on my own. I could have shared no problem, but you do as your guide says. It was difficult to keep up, since I’ve never kayaked in the ocean before and I was doing the work of two people, but I’m proud to say I managed it. We followed the coast of the island around a couple of curves until we reached the lagoon on the other side. We paddled down a short, narrow passage that opened up into a large cove surrounded by limestone cliffs covered in foliage. The water was a bright, light green of the exact shade called “seafoam” on paint samples.

In the lagoon

We were in maybe 2 feet of water, and our guide reached down to the sand and pulled up large white starfish to show us. It was an idyllic spot, but almost the whole time we were there the serenity of the moment was broken by the speedboats that forced their way into the lagoon, despite being far too large for the shallow water; they’d noisily move around the lagoon, then get stuck in the sand and make even more noise revving their engines to get unstuck.

West Railay Beach

My other day trip out of Krabi Town was a visit to Railay. To get there, I took a songthaew to Ao Nang Beach (a small, uninspiring beach backed by an unrelenting strip of shops–I wouldn’t recommend it if you’re looking for a place to base yourself in the area), then a longtail around the coast to West Railay Beach. I think my expectations were a little high, because I was disappointed. Everything at Railay was overpriced (water was four times what it was anywhere else I’d been in Thailand), and there seemed to be few places to set yourself up on the beach since so much space was taken up by longtails. Also, it was super crowded. I walked around to Pra Nang, which was a small beach boasting a cave full of lingams and a pile of rocks to scramble on, and I was overwhelmed by the number of people packed into that tiny space.

Yes, lingams are phallic representations–you are seeing dozens of penises

I’ve talked to people who stayed at Railay, and they had a much better time; they were able to find hidden areas to sunbathe and swim, so they could focus on the undeniable beauty of the limestone cliffs and calm blue-green water without getting distracted by crowds and a need to catch a boat back before prices went up at sunset.

Impressive free climbing at Pra Nang Beach

I did get to see some monkeys on my walk to and from Pra Nang, including a baby! I also stopped by Tonsai, a popular climbing spot, and watched several people clip in and maneuver up and down those sheer cliffs. It looked terrifying, but they had smiles on their faces, so well done them.

Baby monkey!

I’m not sure what the solution is for the conservation-minded tourist who wants to visit the Thai islands. There are some tour groups out there making an effort to be eco-conscious, so you can give your dollars to them. You can also go to more out-of-the-way islands, although those are becoming harder and harder to find, so you’re not adding to the overcrowding of the popular ones–but does that mean you’re just speeding up the exploitation of an otherwise untouched place? You could just not go at all, but missing out on the beauty of this part of the world would be a shame. I took a visitor survey at the airport and made a big deal about the lack of conservation efforts, so maybe if enough tourists do that it’ll catch a government official’s eye. I don’t know–what are your thoughts?