Only a year ago during our trip to Scotland, Liebi tried to add one important leg to the itinerary. The fact that she did that at all suggests how badly she wanted it, since I am usually the one doing all of the planning and booking. Loch Ness? No. St. Andrews? No. Any of the dozens of fine whiskey distilleries? No again.

The answer had little to do with Scotland, did not feature kilts or bagpipes, and was something we would, eventually, find elsewhere in the world, almost at our front door: hiking with lamas. That's right, lamas, the South American pack animals that are largely domesticated, as we first learned during our tour of Bolivia. Lamas. How do you like them oatcakes? By the way, the lamas were fully booked in Scotland, so our hike would have to wait.

Then, Bash decided he wanted a lama hike for his birthday. The plan would be to drive out to a secluded farm, where everybody would be assigned to a specific lama. Then the guest would simply walk the lama for a few hours. That's quite a business plan, when you think about it. Imagine paying somebody for the privilege of walking his dog. That is, until you realize how special lamas really are. The farm would be in the southern part of the Rheinland-Pfalz, a heavily wooded area with plenty of high hills (I wouldn't quite classify them as mountains) to climb. Consider it a hike with the family, then, with the only difference that you have a 350-pound lama trailing you at all times.

When we first arrive at the farm, we see that the farm isn't that big at all. We count about 20 lamas in all sizes. Axl gets the leader of the herd, a female named Lola, a 400-pound beauty who must walk ahead should the peace be kept in the herd. We all have females, since the separation of gender is essential to a functioning lama herd. Lamas, simply put, are as cool as they look. Very easygoing, these animals go where you lead them, up hills, down hills, narrow pathways, cross country. You might want to keep a lama moving, however, since a lama will eat whenever there is a pause in the action. And lamas eat a lot. 

We cross paths with dozens of other tourists, who can't help but smile when they see lamas hiking in the middle of Europe. One thing you'll notice about lamas is also the hierarchy among them, and what they do at times to provoke each other. When a lama seems to have leverage or a height advantage over another animal, however so temporary it might be during the hike, you'll hear the lama clicking its jaw, which reminds me of apes beating their chests in an odd way. 

Contrary to popular belief, lamas don't spit as much as you think. I think one of the hikers in our group received a load on her sweater, and we still have no idea what provoked it. At the same time, lamas are not the cuddly animals you'd expect them to be. You can pet them among their necks, but you might want to avoid hugging them, or touching their faces. Lamas are among the few animals that are immune to COVID-19, yet they still prefer social distancing.

Another word of advice: don't try and follow a lama when it starts running. That will end badly. A lama is a natural herd animal, so it will find its way back to the herd eventually. There are also no predators the lamas need to worry about in this neck of the woods, so the owners of the farm only have a couple of old midsize dogs to guard them. 

In all, we spend over three hours on the hike, lunchtime not included. Absolutely worth it.