In the summer of 1961, I was ten years old. My brother had just died, mysteriously, while in the navy. My older sister, Betty,
was living with her husband, who was stationed in Rome. She was not able to return for the funeral. Perhaps, to make it up
to the family, she convinced my mother to let me visit her.
Having just turned sixty and facing retirement, I knew that I needed something - something big - to counteract the angst I
was feeling. So I climbed 19,300 feet to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro! More>
I was divorced in 2006. It was a shock and I was devastated. Unfortunately my newly opened business did not make enough money
to support my son so I went back to work fulltime. I struggled to juggle both my new business and my new job, but was not
able to. More>
The day of our departure the weather was simply beautiful. It was a Sunday Morning in late March - clear skies, temperatures
in the low 60s, a cool breeze. We drove through San Francisco towards the docks in excited anticipation, quickly found a parking
space to off-load our baggage.
My husband and I had gone to Peru on our honeymoon and always wanted to return. This year we felt that the boys were old enough
and would enjoy a similar trip. On day one of the Santa Cruz Trek through the Andes Mountains in Peru, we were all four very