Arriving on the shores of Palolem after six weeks of adventures across India and Nepal, my sister Sally and I were ready for some quiet time and a place to heal.
Essays, musings, and more. Travel is too broad a concept to just be about travel planning. These are our thoughts and opinions about life experiences enhanced by a sense of place.
Viewing Earth from 30,000 feet is a humbling experience, yet the miracle of air travel has become routine, a commodity.
No stronger sense of place shaped my life and my future than the setting of my childhood home. On our recent trip to the ALDHA Gathering, I walked the Appalachian Trail of my youth to seek out memories.
On an auspicious morning, the appearance of a pod of dolphins in the Indian River Lagoon brings comfort as daylight seeps into summer skies.
Driving US 301 north from Georgia into South Carolina for the first time in decades, I’m in shock at how a once-regular stop for my family, Allendale, has fallen into ruin.
A gathering of outdoor women that now occurs every other year, the Trail Dames Summit is a weekend of workshops and empowerment for embracing the outdoors.
As our travels take us across America, we’re stopping in Boy Scout council offices to add to a lifelong collection of Boy Scout Council Shoulder Patches.
When I look back at the plans we’d made, months ago, to leave the Appalachian Trail and head for Chicago, I have to laugh. Chicago was the opposite of the AT! The sensory overload made for a shortened trip.
An old friend of the family retired a few years ago. Like me, his career ended earlier than he had planned. Without a reason to stay in the area, he loaded up all his belongings in a trailer and in the back of his truck. He relocated and started a new life.
I walked away from Pittsburgh 12 years ago to shut the door on the most painful chapter of my life, losing my sister to an unbeatable cancer. A flood of memories haunts me on my return.
I’ve been piddling away Euros these past two weeks while piddling in Germany. In my youth, pay toilets were uncomfortably common in the USA, thankfully no more.
Others made “better” art than me, art that glowed with realism. I felt defeated. If I couldn’t make the art in my head come out on the canvas, what was the point?