Showing posts from April, 2023

On Solo Travel and French Kissing

Sure, solo travel has its risks. Getting mugged, beat up, getting lost, feeling lonely, doing something stupid you wouldn’t have done if someone was there to talk you out of it are all possibilities.   But think of the benefits. On the benefits list I would include again getting lost and doing something stupid you wouldn’t have done if someone was there to talk you out of it, because define “stupid”. One may define a situation of swerving the car off to the side of the road to jump out to chase a moose into the woods for a photo as stupid. In my defense, I grew up in So Cal where wildlife safety was not a topic beyond rattle snakes. Moose etiquette was not in the curriculum so it was not until showing off pics of a moose blurred between trees that the sharp inhales and wide eyes clued me in that moose trampling is a thing.  How about a photo shoot of a grizzly about twenty feet away napping soundly? Truly, I don’t know what woke him up in the second half of the photos but they look gre

Struggles of a Frequent Flier

There is a place where white noise rules and strangers are comfortable within personal space boundaries. The vibration is soothing, even butt numbing, as I relax into a quasi comfortable position in an uncomfortable chair. It has the smooth leathery feel of an arm chair - an arm chair without the extra cushion and wide space for laying across and pillowy arm rests to fall asleep on with a good book, of course. The contrast to that feel takes me home to my arm chair at my heaven on the river. That heaven has the blasting white noise as well, though from a very different and more welcome source. There are many places to fall asleep there with the buzz of white water, though lacking the soothing vibration, while breathing fresh air under trees that have already seen more seasons than me and will see many more to come.  Nature is calling to me in more ways than one. The walk down a narrow aisle, when I bring myself back from my forest bathing day dreams to my current reality, requires a bi

California’s Cold, Sunny Season

The beach is warm with direct sun, even hot at times, with the waves lapping the sand. The smell of sunblock is blocking out all other scents except the overwhelming smell of roiling sea water being pulled up from the depths. Those depths hide incredible creatures, big and small, and coral reefs the size of rolling hills, constantly building, growing, breaking off and dying. The smell of the sea is made by all of those living and dying things. The sunscreen feels oily and clingy in a way that I am familiar with from decades of use. There is a comfort and familiarity in it plus a sense of security from the dangers of the discomfort of a painful sunburn later.  The sand feels warm as I dig in my toes, pull them straight up and watch the sand slide off, just to rebury them in the soft dryness, over and over and over again. The sand is comforting like a blanket, like many of the beach sensations. This place is comforting with the constancy of the waves that never end and the moon that make