“Where you hang your hat—that’s home, to an adventurer. I love my real home, but when I’m away, it’s nice to know there’s a cozy place nearby ready to restore my weary body. Many times in years of wandering, home has consisted of a sleeping bag and inflatable pad in a backpacking tent… I love living in tents. But my perception of tent living was forever shifted when I joined the Great Walk of Africa in 2013.”
“From the moment I heard about it, the Great Walk of Africa was an adventure I knew I had to have. Imagine being on foot, boots on the ground, kicking up the same dust as the wild animals in Kenya. It instantly became a “must-do” item on my Life List (a term much more appealing to me than “bucket list”).
“It was nighttime when I heard suspicious noises coming from outside. I rose from my chair to find out what was happening. As I approached the window, a person crept into view carrying a shotgun in the ready position. As she turned to look in the window, I could tell she had seen me. She instantly lifted the gun and took aim at me.”
“In December, 2024, there came seven nights and six days spent crossing the Atlantic Ocean the old-fashioned way—on an ocean liner… our ship, the Queen Mary 2, glided steadily to our destination… which evoked the size and scope of our earth in a beautifully tangible way.”
“Imagine: an unobstructed 360-degree view of just ocean – no birds, no other ships, not even much chance of seeing marine animals. Just the water and the sky and the ship beneath you gliding on a fair day on its way from New York City to Southampton.”
“Now it is November, my favorite month. November calms me. It comes, blessedly, before the rising pressures of Christmastime. It brings soup season, and a good book by the fire, and brisk walks. Whatever the year has held, things seem to exhale in November. The projects and chaos and messiness of the inevitable activities of spring and summer tend to be winding down, at least here where the snows of winter arrive to muffle the bustle.”
“It was a perfect day for splitting logs: fresh breeze, cool, sunny. I enjoy this sort of work, with its rhythm and sense of accomplishment as the pile of large pieces is processed into a pile of more usable sizes. Pick up a log, place it on the splitter’s horizontal surface, pull the hydraulic lever, wait. Let the machine do its job. Easy-breezy.”
“Well, my goodness! It’s been months since I have written a blog. At first, back in July, I fretted about losing my twice-a-month goal, and letting down my faithful readers… What a summer it was, one of abundant (self-induced) chaos and disruption, on the heels of a fairly disruptive spring (also self-induced). Autumn? It’s been a little nuts, too.”
“Japanese toilets nowadays, however, transcend the mundane nature of Western toilets by offering a somewhat bewildering array of techno-options. From what I could discern from the picture icons, there are various bottom-washing options, including the strength, direction, and warmth of the water stream…”
“Among the oldest pilgrimages in the world, the 88 Temple Pilgrimage threads its way through all four prefectures of Shikoku. It mostly traverses the coastline, veering occasionally into the interior regions. “The pilgrimage route is diverse,” says one source. “It winds through quiet picturesque villages, along striking coastlines, across bustling modern cities, and up ancient misty mountains.”.
“Our group of twelve Westerners pauses at the temple gate where the imposing Nio statues stand guard. We are new to the proper etiquette, so Tom, our guide, teaches us to bow upon entering the temple grounds. One of us rings the giant bell to announce our collective arrival…”
“At our hostel on the eve of our return… my three travel buddies and I discussed when to schedule our shuttle… Hmmm, I said. Why don’t we make it 7:15... Always leave time for a flat tire, whispered my inner voice… When the conversation persisted, I said it out loud: “It has served me a time or two to leave time for a flat tire.” Our shuttle picked us up at 7:15 a.m.”
“To ski has been a near-religion in our family. My mom, we love to say, had me skiing before I was born. To her, skiing wasn’t just a pastime. It was a passion, an unabashed need… I remember how that joy remained undiminished throughout the coming decades, which included two hip replacements, knee surgeries, an ankle fusion. For a while in the 1980s, she skied on outriggers and one ski, just so she could get out on the mountain.”
“About forty years ago, I gave myself one of the finest gifts ever: the reframing of an interior life that was dark, depressed, and negative. Learning a new habit to choose a fresh, upbeat approach to my days was demanding work… Gradually, I was able to build a new way of life…”
“...so there we are, twelve of us, plus our guides, scrabbling over rocks and other uneven terrain down a forested gorge somewhere in Madya Pradesh, India. We have already walked a couple of miles from where the vehicles disgorged us, leaving us with just our daypacks, trekking poles, and one another.”
“We have driven well into the park on the heels of dawn. Birdsong greets us, as do the langur monkeys, who are on the move. The herds of spotted deer, called chital, are grazing peacefully… the favorite meal of the object of our quest: the Bengal tiger… the tigers enjoy status that approaches royalty. They are, after all, the national animal.”
“Think back. All that isolation, all that fear. All that mask fashion! All the neighbors, coming out at 7pm to make a grateful racket for the first responders and essential workers. The clear skies, and wildlife sightings in places which had seen none for decades. The empty streets and highways and airports. The Zoom classes…”
“I laze, and think back. Last time I woke up in a bed, I was 7,200 miles away in Shimla, India. Traversing space becomes a matter of duration. Arriving home was a 41-hour gauntlet of driving and waiting in airport lounges and hiking through terminals to the four flights (one for 16-1/2 hours) that brought me home…”
“It is a hard life, with a harsh climate, continual manual labor, and dependency on the grasslands of the steppe to nourish the herds, and thus, them. But there is also abundant beauty, whether embedded in the faces of people secure in who they are, or being beneath the “Eternal Blue Sky,” or feeling deep appreciation for the animals.”
“Imagine my surprise, to discover that I live smack-dab on the North Country Trail. This happy realization occurred when I joined some friends who were chipping away at the NCT in 10-mile segments through Kent County in 2019. Although I had intended to join them multiple times that year, I only made it once, on a steamy-hot summer day in August.”
