WCI Travel Club: Memorable Trips to Chile, Lake Powell, and the Oregon Wine Country

By Josh Katzowitz, WCI Content Director

Occasionally writing about our travel experiences and what lessons (financial and otherwise) we can learn from them has become a fun and meaningful activity here at The White Coat Investor. Whether it's WCI founder Dr. Jim Dahle writing about climbing to the top of the highest point in Wyoming, guest writer Michael Mulick describing how his working trek to Sudan reinvigorated his career, WCICON23 keynote speaker Stacy Taniguchi reliving his nearly disastrous mountain trek on Denali, or guest writer Dr. Liz Aarons learning the harsh reality of a goat in Peru, there is value in learning from others' world-traveling wisdom.

We call this WCI Travel Club, and so far, Tyler Scott has penned his thoughts about Thailand, credit card points, and the power of a 100% tip; Margaret Curtis has written about her Alaska; and Anthony Ellis has described his time walking the Camino de Portugues. Today, we unveil our fourth edition of WCI Travel Club.

Before we get to the new travel essays, though, I again want to invite all readers to share their experiences with the community. If you have undertaken a trip that taught you lessons about finance, mental wellness, or some other aspect of medicine or life, I’d love to hear from you so that we can include your story in subsequent WCI Travel Club columns. These essays can be inspiring, or they can simply be a nice break in the day so our readers can be transported to other parts of the globe. After all, the outside world is always there to teach us lessons.

If you're interested in submitting your own WCI Travel Club essay, email me at [email protected] so we can discuss it. It thrills me to publish these columns a couple of times a year.

Previous WCI Travel Club columns:

Meaningful Trips to Half Dome, Thailand, and Alaska

Magical Trips to Peru, Portugal, and Disney World

Momentous Trips to the Appalachian Trail, Washington DC, and Tokyo/Paris

How Bumps and Bruises (and Believing in Each Other) Can Leave You Feeling Better Than Ever

By Josh Katzowitz, WCI Content Director

I’ve never been a camping guy. I don’t like pitching tents, I don’t like sweating in the heat while I try to sleep. I don’t like waking up 5,000 times per night while trying to find comfort on a thin mattress pad placed haphazardly on the ground. I don’t like coyotes making themselves known not far from where I’m resting my head on some blown-up joke of a pillow.

I recognize that there are benefits to camping: drinking beer by the fire and then, a few hours later, sending it back out into the wilderness is exhilarating. Looking at a blanket of stars in the sky is wondrous. Smelling that campfire smoke can give you a natural high. But I can do all that while glamping, too.

So, while preparing for a work retreat to Lake Powell on the southern Utah/Arizona border, where we’d be spending five nights on a house boat crammed up close to all my colleagues, my boss said, “Listen, if you think of this houseboat as a cruise, you’re going to be disappointed. If you think of this as camping, this is going to be awesome.”

I’m not a camping guy (unlike most everybody else I work with). But maybe I could learn to be a houseboat guy.

After seven days of travel, here’s what I learned about myself and why it’s so important to get out of our comfort zones, whether it’s via camping or adventuring with your colleagues. A quick note: much of this was inspired by the presentation prepared by WCI’s COO, Brett Stevens, while we were on the boat during our retreat.

Teach and Learn from Others

As a kid, I knee-boarded and went tubing on Georgia lakes over the span of a few years, but the only time I went water skiing, I accidently let go of the rope handle when I got to my feet and it bashed into my left knee, leaving a bruise that went from mid-thigh to my ankle (the day before my senior prom). I’ve rarely been behind a boat since.

But during the week on Lake Powell, we wakesurfed and rappelled, and the lesson was that it’s possible to be successful at something new when we rely on the expertise and training of others to help us. Was I good at either activity? Not particularly. But I saw other newbies shine in these activities, and the inspiration was as refreshing as jumping into the lake on a hot day.

This was not me rappelling into Lake Powell. Photo by Brett Stevens

Confidence Wins

As Brett wrote in his lesson, “80% of life can be won by being confident in yourself, your abilities, and in those around you.”

One of the trip highlights for me was hiking through a slot canyon called Labyrinth, where Jim Dahle had to traverse his surf boat through an ever-narrowing channel before parking it on a small strip of beach that was surrounded by gorgeous peaks and ridges. Then, we had to briefly swim to get to the canyon. That narrowed into a body-width pathway where we were surrounded by beautiful rock formations that, when Lake Powell’s level is high, are covered by water.

Spend enough time in this slot canyon, and you might feel a sense of claustrophobia. You might get tired from the twisting and turning of the path while hauling yourself up rocks and gently guiding yourself down them on the way back. You might bleed after scraping an elbow or a knee against a rock that’s jutting into your path. You might twist your ankle.

But if you believe in yourself and those around you—if you have that confidence that you can push through before the sunlight expires—the journey will end in triumph. Especially if, as one of my co-workers experienced, you’re wearing a neon pink bathing suit while doing so (though you sadly can't see it in the photo below).

Hiking into the Labyrinth slot canyon. Photo via Andrew Paulson

Live Life to Its Fullest

At The White Coat Investor, we talk plenty about living like a resident and saving your money for retirement. But as Brett pointed out, sometimes it’s OK to live like royalty, eating luxurious, chef-prepared meals after a day of paddleboarding and jet-skiing.

One of my highlights from the trip was cliff jumping. Normally, I’m not a fan of heights. But surrounded by my peers and friends, we found some rocks that ranged anywhere from 10 to 20 to 30 feet above the Lake Powell surface.

A bunch of us did the 20-footers without any issue. Then, some of us climbed a little higher, and though this jump was a little trickier—there was a protruding rock underneath the jump, so you had to leap further than normal to avoid smashing into that piece of stone—we all nailed the 30-footer.

Brett, who was the first to jump, later told me that he was looking up at the cliff from the water when I suddenly appeared in the sky out of nowhere, arms and legs flailing, before making a big splash. It was heart-pounding, stomach-churning, and vertigo-inducing. It was also awesome.

And it makes you realize, sometimes, you just have to press send and make the leap.

Does any of this mean that I’ll voluntarily raise my hand the next time somebody mentions a camping trip? Probably not. I like showers and firm pillows too much. But a bunch of us pushed ourselves out of our comfort zones throughout the week, and we came home with more bruises and scrapes than when we arrived. There’s something exhilarating about that.

The Oregon Wine Country Escape

By Dr. Charles Patterson, WCI Columnist

My wife and I have always enjoyed traveling, but because family and career obligations occupy so much of our bandwidth, the trouble of planning and executing a parent vacation can be discouraging. Additionally, as a single- and moderate-income physician household, the associated costs of a nice getaway are daunting. Despite these barriers, we have long understood that a parents’ retreat is a necessary nicety: two years of long-distance, six years of training, and three kids under the age of 10 reinforce this concept.

Since moving to the Pacific Northwest, we had talked about (and saved for) a wine country escape, and after 18 months, we had finally reached a point where it was possible both logistically and financially. The Willamette Valley of Oregon was ideal for our tight schedule: close enough to minimize travel time yet a healthy distance to ensure we knew that this was no “staycation.”

Perhaps less known to outsiders, this bucolic landscape is a vintner’s paradise. The soil is rich, and high annual rainfall and temperate climate are optimal for nurturing delicate grape varietals. The area holds a special place in my heart, too. Long before the Dundee hills were dotted with wineries, generations of Pattersons tended this land and cultivated everything from apples to hazelnuts. There's nostalgia to this place. You’d be right in calling me biased, but Napa and Sonoma have little else to offer (aside from traffic, name recognition, and sales tax, of course).

With the car windows down and the business of real life in the rearview mirror, we absconded to a literal and figurative breath of fresh air. Our itinerary was luxuriously relaxed and complete with several fine dinings, an olive orchard tour, scenic fall drives through the hills, wine tastings, and a (very) lovely stay in Newberg. After less than two days of indulgence, we returned to the chaos of our young family and hectic career refreshed, recharged, and with the “marriage bank account” replenished.

Our life is blessed, but the stresses of it are still wearying. Demands on our time and attention almost universally detract from time and attention to our marriage. This pace, repeated daily for months and years, grinds away at the reserve of goodwill and enthusiasm for the purpose of our marriage.

Experiences like this retreat refill that reserve (what we call the “marriage bank account”) and, in turn, make us better individuals, parents, and doctors. The beauty of our surroundings and the exquisite nature of the experience were delightful, and the undivided time together was wholly refreshing. How so little time away could result in such a monumental improvement in our morale is a testament to how much is demanded of us—and how important such getaways can be.

A camping trip or a less gaudy stay could have perhaps accomplished nearly the same result, but the buildup before and the memories created by this lavish excursion were singularly wonderful. Further, the amount spent (reflective of the time used to earn it) underscores the importance of the experience and our willingness to dedicate resources to our marriage. This is not to say that we are buying our way into a stronger relationship, but rather that the eyebrow-raising expenditure should emphasize the preciousness of the time together.

Our household budget leaves no room to squander, but we consider this money very well spent.

In Pursuit of the Intentional Life While in Chile

By Michelle Baker, WCI Community Liaison

There has been much discussion on the blog in the last few years about aligning your actual life and your ideal life, as well as the idea that there are some experiences that are only available in certain seasons of life.

This has never been more clear to me than it is now, as both my husband and I are in our sixth decade of life, new grandparents, and soon-to-be empty nesters. Having reared four children, three of whom are currently in college, opportunities for international travel have only recently become a regular possibility. It’s a lot simpler and cheaper to fly overseas and book accommodations with one or two teenagers as opposed to four children of varying ages and stages. When we had more kids at home, with no family nearby to help out, most of our travel was done separately with the other parent on child duty.

That said, we are also increasingly aware that the type of adventure travel we crave won’t be physically possible for us forever. The sooner we start our “Go-Go” years, the more things on our Thrive List we can do. Though we plan to retire sooner rather than later, there are many activities we can really only expect to do for another decade or so. Which is why our vacations are typically short on museums and tourist attractions and often result in a recovery “I need a vacation after my vacation” period afterward.

Case in point: we recently traveled to Chile for a combined 30th anniversary/spring break trip. As all parents know, planning your travel around school vacations can be challenging both financially and temporally. Just about every district in Texas has spring break the same week, so flights are not cheap. That’s why we ended up utilizing a big chunk of frequent flier miles to book our trip. I am lucky to have a spouse who loves to plan trips and is really good at it. He does hours of research and is a whiz at contacting locals through Instagram and WhatsApp, resulting in itineraries that are one-of-a-kind and pretty amazing. This trip was no exception.

We left Friday evening, flying from Houston to Santiago via Dallas-Fort Worth, and arrived at 9 AM on Saturday. We had a few hours to kill in Santiago before another flight to Temuco, and we hired an “Official Taxi” to give us the grand tour. For the next five hours, our driver took us to Catedral de Santiago, Plaza de Armas, and Cerro Santa Lucia, dropping us off to explore and then returning to pick us up. He returned us to the airport for our flight, and the whole day only cost us $90 in fares.

After arriving in Temuco, we rented a Subaru and drove to the adventure town of Pucón. My husband booked us a gorgeous top-floor Airbnb with incredible views of the mountains and Volcan Villarrica (Rukapillán in the native Mapuche language), South America’s most active volcano, from every window and the rooftop living space. Perfect.

At 6 AM on Sunday morning, we started our adventures with a 4,000+ foot climb to the rim of Rukapillán in a little over three miles. About half of the climb was on snow/glacier and required the use of crampons and ice axes. It was challenging but well worth the effort when we were the first ones to the crater that day and could enjoy the summit in solitude.

Monday and Thursday were spent canyoneering at Salto El Claro, Rio Correntoso, and Saltos Pocolpén. Salto is what they call waterfalls that drop straight down rather than cascading down rocks. We did a free-hanging rappel down a 300-foot waterfall, rappelled multiple other falls, jumped into freezing pools, and clambered through narrow canyons and rocky watercourses in pristine forests. We also enjoyed one of the many hot springs in the area.

On Tuesday, we did a via ferrata near El Cerduo. Via ferratas are not as common in Chile as in Europe, and this one looked like it didn’t get frequent visitors. We bushwhacked straight up a mountain and scrambled over boulders for 45 minutes just to find the start. It was worth it, though, for the 600 vertical feet of climbing up steel cables and rebar steps and ladders. On the summit, Volcan Rukapillán rose before us, and we could glimpse additional volcanoes in the distance. The downclimb was steep but at least it was on a clear trail, and I found and held a Chilean Emerald Flame tarantula.

Wednesday was whitewater rafting on Rio Trancura. This river has Class III-V rapids, but the water level was so low that we had to portage around the biggest rapid. I almost fell out of the raft only once!

After the canyon on Thursday, we were so close to the Argentina border that we decided to pop over and check it out. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize that you have to arrange ahead of time with your rental car company if you want to leave the country. Border control wouldn’t let us drive across. Not to be deterred, we parked the car and walked across to Argentina. After a mile or so through primeval araucaria forests overshadowed by Volcan Lanín, the road abruptly changed from pavement to gravel, and we arrived at Argentina border control, where we were tragically informed that they no longer stamp passports there. So, we returned to Chile and had to explain to a different officer that no, we didn’t drive a car across and no, we didn’t have any luggage or anything to declare and yes, we had, in fact, been in Argentina for only 20 minutes.

Our 16-year-old son “took the day off” on Friday, sleeping in, exploring the town, and buying souvenirs. Several people over the course of the week had recommended a hike in Parque Nacional Villarrica near the Argentine border called Lagos Andinos. I dropped off my husband and one of the guides to finish bolting and setting up a new canyon, Salto Carén, and headed into the park. Signage indicated it was a loop hike past four different lakes, but either the trail was purposely closed or there were so many trees blown down that it was no longer traversable. I ended up doing a 10-mile out-and-back climb 2,000 feet up the flank of Volcan Lanín to Laguna Verde, with spurs to Laguna Huinfiuca and Laguna Escondida and incredible views of the Andes. I got back just in time to pick the men up as they finished “one of the top 10 canyons” my husband has ever done.

We checked out of our Airbnb on Saturday morning and reversed our travel back to Texas, having fulfilled our thirst for adventure for a little while longer and filled with gratitude for the opportunities we had and the new friends we made on the other side of the planet.

Do you have your own travel stories where you learned a lesson? What else have you gained from your journeys? Email us!

[For comments, complaints, suggestions, or plaudits, email Josh Katzowitz at [email protected].]

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