wanderlust – Page 8 – Streaming thru America

Tromsø–Arctic Cathedral

February 20, 2020February 22, 2020Posted in Adventure, Architecture, Art, Awards, landscape, music, Photography, religion, travel, wanderlustTagged Arctic Cathedral, Norway, Tromsø, Tromsø Cathedral, Viking Star13 Comments

Leah and I eagerly anticipated our arrival to Tromsø. For one, we were bored of cruising, having spent two consecutive days at sea after missing the port of Bodø because of high winds and rough seas (see Order of the Blue Nose).

But Tromsø, for us, provided the needed adrenelin rush to jumpstart our Norway adventure. Now that we finally arrived at the Gateway to the Arctic, we could participate in many of the off-the-ship excursions within our reach, like snowmobiling through white-carpeted mountain passes, and searching for the Northern Lights.

The Viking Star gently glided past Polaria’s domino-stacked building as Captain Nilsen steered us through the harbor on our way to docking.

While waiting for the local authorities to clear our vessel, I had an opportunity to photograph our new surroundings from our stateroom veranda, looking from stem…

to stern.

But one building that piqued my interest sat off the port side of the ship, nestled in the snowy foothills of Tromsø Sound–the Arctic Cathedral. Absolutely stunning!

Strikingly modern, the church was designed by architect Jan Inge Hovig and built in 1965. It’s roof structure was formed by concrete sheathed in aluminum panels,

as opposed to Tromsø’s other landmark church, the Tromsø Cathedral. Located in the center of town on the spot of Tromsø’s first church built in 1252, this cathedral was finished in 1861, and remains Norway’s only cathedral made of wood.

Leah and I crossed the Tromsø Bridge by bus for a closer look.

Likened to the Sydney Opera House, the exterior of the Arctic Cathedral is simple in shape and style,

while the interior design is modestly appointed to accentuate: the large prism chandeliers;

the sparse altar rail and pulpit; and the grand glass mosaic commissioned by artist Victor Sparre–depicting three rays of light emanating from God’s hand: one through the form of Jesus, one through woman and one through man.

The western wall of the sanctuary is complemented by Grönlunds Orgelbyggeri’s organ, built in 2005.

The Star of David radiating through the eastern wimdow symbolizes a spirit of inclusiveness and community acceptance. (Just kidding)

The organ was built in the French Romantic tradition, and was adapted to the cathedral’s architecture, providing illusions of sails and ice floes. The organ comprises 2940 pipes, measuring from 32 feet (9.6 m) to just 5 mm. Much of the woodwork is solid pine with bellows made of reindeer hide.

It’s a pity I never heard it played, as I’m certain the cathedral’s vaulted vortex provides impressive acoustics.

Back at the Viking Star, after a brief bout of daylight (6hrs, 15min.)…

I returned to my veranda to record the Arctic Cathedral bathed in moonlight…

and I imagined I heard Grieg’s Song of Norway playing from its soaring arches.

Order of the Blue Nose

February 16, 2020February 18, 2020Posted in Adventure, Awards, culture, Food, History, humor, landscape, music, Nature, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Arctic Circle, Bodø, geography, Hurtigruten, Norway, Order of the Blue Nose, Viking Star6 Comments

Captain Terje Nilsen of the Viking Star personally delivered the unfortunate news over the ship’s PA system during breakfast.

“Because of high winds, we will be cruising past the port of Bodø, and continuing onto Tromsø. I apologize for the inconvenience, but the weather is just not safe for us to make a landing.”

Of course, we were disappointed.

Bodø is a charming alpine village north of the Arctic Circle and home to Saltstraumen, the world’s largest maelstrom. Additionally, Leah and I had booked an excursion to Kjerringøy, and would have enjoyed hiking through this preserved trading post dating back to the 1800s.

But Captain Nilsen wasn’t kidding. If the gusting winds and pounding seas were any indication of what was witnessed as the Hurtigruten ferry attempted docking in Bodø, then I couldn’t imagine the Viking Star following suit–certainly not with so many passengers unable to handle the rough crossing from Tilbury, England.

Nevertheless, passengers were invited to the pool deck following breakfast to celebrate a longtime maritime tradition of crossing the Arctic Circle.

While Paulo serenaded us with folk classics and Beatles covers of Here Comes the Sun, and I’ll Follow the Sun, (ironic, don’t you think),

the crew assembled to initiate each of us into the Order of the Blue Nose.

Our Cruise Director, Brensley Pope took the microphone to give some background:

Good afternoon Ladies & Gentlemen and welcome! We have entered through the Arctic Circle, and it is time to make our journey official by welcoming you to the Order of the Blue Nose! First, a little history.

The word “arctic” comes from the Greek word arktikos: “near the Bear, northern” The name refers to the constellation Ursa Major, the “Great Bear”, which is prominent in the northern sky.

The region north of the Circle, known as the “Arctic” covers roughly 4% of the Earth’s surface.

The position of the Arctic Circle coincides with the southernmost latitude in the Northern Hemisphere at which the sun can remain continuously above or below the horizon for a full twenty-four hours; hence the “Land of the Midnight Sun.” This position depends on the tilt of the earth’s axis, and therefore is not a “fixed” latitude. The Arctic circle is moving north at a rate of 15 meters per year, and is currently located at 66 degrees 33 minutes North latitude.

Captain Terje Nilsen interupted, “I believe that’s enough history for now…”

The crowd responded with laughter. And then it became official with his declaration…

Hear ye… hear ye….

Whereas by official consension, our most honorable and well-beloved Guests have completed successful passage through the Arctic Domain. We do hereby declare to all in attendance and that those who possess the courage to take the Aquavit cleanse shall be marked accordingly, with the prestigious Order of the Blue Nose.

(Applause)

Captain Nilsen continued…

This is to certify that you all have been formally and officially initiated into the Solemn Mysteries of the Ancient Order of the Chilly Deep, and should wear your blue noses proudly! With the order of myself, the Captain, I command all subjects to Honor and Respect those onboard Viking Star as one of our Trusty Blue Nose family.

We officially welcome you to the Blue Nose Order! Skol!

I got my blue nose and drained my shot glass of chilled Aquavit. Was I now a proud member of a society of alcoholics and sun worshippers?

But I wasn’t alone.

Lines formed from both sides of the pool deck for distinguished crew members to efficiently annoint all worthy passangers with a blue-tinted dab of meringue.

What follows is a small sample of inductee’s portraits–some more enthusiastic than others…

United in singular purpose, we now shared a common bond.

To validate our accomplishment, each of us received a certificate of achievement validated by Captain Nilsen.

Soon after, while walking about the jogging track in whipping winds after a filling lunch, I caught a glimpse of what made this affair so special.

Now that’s what I call “Crossing the Line!”

Praying for a Glimpse of Pulpit Rock

February 14, 2020February 14, 2020Posted in Adventure, hiking, History, landscape, Nature, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged Hengjane Waterfall, Lysefjord, Mission Impossible, Norway, Pulpit Rock, Rødne, Rogaland, Skavanger, Vagabond's Cave4 Comments

Having pre-booked Rødne’s 3-hour scenic cruise through Lysefjord–Western Norway’s most picturesque passage–

Leah and I were on an impossible mission to view Preikestolen (Pulpit Rock), considering the current gray skies and dismal forecast. Reknown for its views, and famous for its cliffhanger scene in Mission: Impossible–Fallout, we considered Preikestolen a must-see.

On the bright side, there was plenty of legroom aboard Rødne’s Rygerdronningen, a 297-passenger, high-speed catamaran that carried only 24 guests this particular day, many with camera lenses as long as my arm.

We pushed off at 11:00 am sharp,

easing out of the harbor’s protected waters,

and beyond the bridge,

where it became perfectly clear to us that this was a perfect day for seabirds,

but less so for Leah–who required a double dose of dramimine to deal with the swells propagating across the horizon.

Along the journey, we passed scores of coastline cottages,

whose owners regulary commute to town by boat during the summer months…

unless they have the means to vacation in Rogaland all summer long.

Midway through our voyage we passed under the Lysefjord Bridge–gateway to Lysefjord–

connecting Forsand with Oanes, a small farming village on the coastline,

that’s dwarfed by an imposing edifice.

We eased into the fjord,

flanked by looming walls of granite…

until the captain navigated the bow of the ship within a hair’s breath of the Vagabond’s Cave.

Legend has it that the cave was named after a group of vagabonds who used the shelter as a hideout for months, trying to escape the police.

As we backed out of the grotto to pursue a course to Pulpit Rock, the weather turned to sleet and snow, shrouding the cliff’s signature square flat top, 604 meters above the fjord, and driving most of the passengers indoors.

But there were some intrepid sailors who were undeterred, because they had little choice in their RIB (rigid inflatable boat).

We followed at our own pace…

until we reached Hengjane Waterfall, cascading 400 meters (1312 ft) into the fjord.

Soon after, we U-turned to retrace our wake before returning to Skavanger.

Marie-Charlotte van Kerckhoven was among the few passengers on board. While nursing a hot coffee, Leah and I heard about her hiking expedition to the top of Pulpit Rock the day before. Braving freezing temperatures and two feet of snow, she and her hiking buddy made the ascent to the 25 by 25 meters flat top in 4 hours.

She was happy to share her view,

and even happier to report that here was no trace of Tom Cruise ever being there.

Next port of call: Bodø

Stavanger

February 12, 2020Posted in Adventure, Architecture, Art, hiking, History, landscape, museum, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged fjords, Gamle Stravanger, Norway, Stavanger, Viking Star5 Comments

Leah and I crossed a rocky North Sea from Tilbury, England aboard Viking Star (more on this Viking ocean liner later),

and docked at Stavanger Port on an overcast morning.

Stavanger is Norway’s third largest region, and best known as the European capital for the oil and gas industry–which explains the town’s Norwegian Petroleum Museum, and its unusual derrick-like design on the city’s waterfront.

Stavanger is also a popular tourist hub, as it’s the gateway to the fjords. To that end, Leah and I had booked an off-ship excursion to Rogaland to cruise through Lysefjord in search of Preikestolen, better known as Pulpit Rock.

But with some time to kill before our departure, we disembarked early to stroll along the harbor plaza to find our bearings, and regain our sea legs after a day and a half of cruising.

The plaza was sleepy for an early Wednesday morning, but it was refreshing to have the place to ourselves.

We could enjoy the local art (that celebrates the shrimping industry)…

without concern for another’s footsteps.

We opted to tour the Gamle Stravanger (Old Town), where 173 wooden buildings from the turn of the 18th century have been preserved…

down to the cast bronze utility plate covers.

A casual walk along Old Town’s winding roads of white cottages…

soon brought us to an end-of-the-road cafe,

where old begat new,

and reminded us how far we’ve come…

and the distance we’ve traveled.

Our adventure continues…

The Shard

February 9, 2020February 10, 2020Posted in Architecture, landscape, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged London, skyline, skyscraper, Thames River, The Shard, Tower BridgeLeave a comment

Leah and I were in search of a London eyrie for dramatic views, but refused to pay £27 to see the skyline from top of the Eye at 135 meters.

While I’m sure that the views are impressive from the top-most bubble, we were less than interested in a vew from a carnival ride.

Then we considered The Shard–London’s tallest building, rising 310 meters,

Inagurated on July 5, 2012, it’s observation deck on the 72nd floor commands 360° views of the city, and dominates the horizon from all parts.

But again, £25 for a timed ticket? I don’t think so! But there is a cheaper way…by having a drink at Rainer Becker’s Oblix on the 32nd floor.

Just walk around the corner, enter through the attended doors, endure the TSA-type security, and wiz up the elevator, where an icon-rich, interpretive map of London confuses and delights simultaneously.

We arrived late afternoon on a clear Saturday, and the bar was packed with fashionistas and millenial posers.

We parked ourselves at a long table that we promised to surrender at 4:30 pm, if only to secure a seat and a stylish waitress dressed in black.

I nursed a valencia orange Ketel One vodka with blood orange, peach & hibiscus at £14.50, but it was a bargain,

if for no other reason than to capture unparalleled views,

people watch,

and enjoy a great cocktail at half the price of The Shard’s regular admission.

Cheers!

Photos I Shouldn’t Have Taken

February 6, 2020March 1, 2020Posted in Adventure, Architecture, Art, hiking, History, landscape, museum, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged Anglican Church, Elizabeth Feodorovna, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, London, Sony, Sony RX10 IV, Westminster Abbey13 Comments

Our time in London was limited–only two days to explore the sights. With so much to see and so little time, Leah and I buckled down for a tour of London’s greatest hits, which easily includes a visit to Westminster Abbey, England’s Gothic royal church, and familiar site for British coronations and weddings, and national celebrations dating back to the 11th century.

We walked around the massive structure until we found the gate entry. Signage informed us that access to this London landmark would set us back 23£ ($30 with current exchange rates), but seniors were entitled to a 3£ discount.

The price seemed steep, but the opportunity to walk through history doesn’t come along every day.

There is a strict NO PHOTOGRAPHY policy inside, which the church keepers will tell you is for the benefit of giving their guests an experience without distraction, and to perserve the solemnity of a working house of worship.

Nevertheless, we walked through the transepts and chapels listening to interactive video recordings while admiring the captivating architecture and memorials, and reflecting on the notion that Charles Darwin and Isaac Newton lie beneath our feet.

But with a newly purchased camera dangling around my neck (Sony RX10 IV), I couldn’t resist the urge.

I had to see what this camera could reproduce in low light…

using advanced stabilization software for hand-held shots…

until I was admonished by an Abbey marshal in Henry VII’s Lady Chapel while capturing an overhead view from a polished mirror.

My bad! He wouldn’t leave my side until I reversed the shade and capped my lens. Even then, I could feel his eyes trained on me as I walked around the royal tombs acting as contrite as I could possibly be.

Fortunately, photography IS allowed in the College Garden,

the Cloisters,

and the Chapter House.

As we prepared to leave through the Great West Door, Leah and I walked past the Grave of the Unknown Warrior toward the Coronation Chair behind glass, I was so tempted to surreptitiously point and shoot…but thought better of it. Lesson learned.

As serendipity would have it, the Marshal and I reunited outside, and all was forgiven.

We parted as friends, and I believe I was absolved for my vainglory sin. He used our final moments together to tell us the tale of Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, his favorite modern martyr, whose ediface adorns the Abbey’s Great West Door.

According to Marshal John…

Elizabeth of Hesse-Darmstadt was born on 1st November 1864. She was named after Elizabeth of Hungary (1207-1231), a Catholic saint of her own family. Her mother died when she was a child, and she came to England to live under the protection of her grandmother, Queen Victoria. If her childhood was Lutheran, the religious culture of her adolescence was distinctively Anglican. In 1884 Elizabeth married Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, the fifth son of Tsar Alexander II of Russia. Elizabeth found Orthodoxy increasingly absorbing, and in 1891 she adopted the faith.

Although her life had assurance and all the comforts of eminence, it rested on fragile foundations. The Tsarist state maintained its grip over a changing society by repression. Talk of revolution persisted, and grew louder. Acts of terrorism mounted. On 18th February 1905, the Grand Duke Sergei was assassinated.

This marked a turning point in Elizabeth’s life. Now she gave away her jewellery and sold her most luxurious possessions, and with the proceeds she opened the Martha and Mary home in Moscow, to foster the prayer and charity of devout women. Here there arose a new vision of a diaconate for women, one that combined intercession and action in the heart of a disordered world. In April 1909 Elizabeth and seventeen women were dedicated as Sisters of Love and Mercy. Their work flourished: soon they opened a hospital and a variety of other philanthropic ventures arose.

In March 1917 the Tsarist state, fatally damaged by the war with Germany, collapsed. In October, a revolutionary party, the Bolsheviks, seized power. Civil war followed. The Bolshevik party was avowedly atheistic, and it saw in the Orthodox Church a pillar of the old regime. In power, it persecuted the Church with terrible force. In time, hundreds of priests and nuns were imprisoned, taken away to distant labour camps, and killed. Churches were closed or destroyed. On 7th May 1918 Elizabeth was arrested with two sisters from her convent, and transported across country to Perm, then to Ekatarinburg, and finally to Alapaevsk. On 17th July the Tsar and his family were shot dead. During the following night Elizabeth, a sister from SS Mary and Martha named Varvara, and members of the royal family were murdered in a mineshaft.

In the Soviet Union Christianity survived in the face of periodic persecution and sustained oppression. But Elizabeth was remembered. In 1984 she was recognized as a saint by the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad, and then by the Moscow Patriarchate in 1992.

I’m certain that Saint Elizabeth, in her charity, would have pardoned me too.

To avoid taking interior photos of Westminster Abbey, go to https://www.westminster-abbey.org/visit-us/photo-gallery for complementary images.

Cirque du Soleil–JOYÀ Entertainment

January 28, 2020January 29, 2020Posted in Adventure, Art, culture, Entertainment, family, Mexico, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged circus, Cirque du Soleil, JOYÀ, Riviera Maya, Vidanta3 Comments

See Part 1 before continuing…

With our table cleared, and the house lights dimmed, the performance was about to begin. We were reminded by the maitre d’ to take as many pictures as we wanted, provided no flash photography was used.

Drawing from Mexican folklore and fantasy, the storyline is set in an alchemist’s library/laboratory–complete with rigging and a trap door–where we are introduced to a loyal menagerie of characters,

beholden to a mischievous girl, and her scatterbrained, but well-meaning grandfather,

who for the next 80-minutes embark on a quixotic quest through space and time to rescue Grandpa’s Book of Life, and in the process gain an understanding and greater appreciation of the world’s wonders and secrets of life.

Throughout their journey (part bilingual theater, and part circus), the duo encounters: a skip rope team…

a Risley acrobatic duo,

a silk curtain dancer…

an audience participant…

dueling pirates…

a juggler…

a hand-balancer/contortionist…

pageant and puppetry…

strap aerielists…

and a trampoline wall before the finale…

The show, now in its 6th season was sassy, classy and fun.

As expected, the performers’ imaginative costumes were cut from the same creative cloth that distinguishes Cirque’s originality.

And the acrobats’ anthems appropriately delivered the romance and drama that supported their feats of daring-do.

With the last bow was taken, and the house lights turned up, our family agreed that this was an evening well spent,

deep within the repurposed Yucatán jungle.

Cirque du Soleil–JOYÀ Eatertainment

January 26, 2020January 29, 2020Posted in Adventure, Architecture, culture, Entertainment, Food, Mexico, music, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged circus, Cirque du Soleil, JOYÀ, Riviera Maya, theater, Vidanta1 Comment

Cirque du Soleil is seemingly ubiquitous–with a dozen touring companies scouring the continents, and 7 different resident shows selling out across the Las Vegas strip, making this entertainment company the most prolific circus producer on the planet.

But JOYÀ is different, and I couldn’t wait to share the experience with my family.

Staged in a custom-built, butterfly-inspired structure surrounded by a cenote within the Riviera Maya jungle,

the 600-seat theater features a thrust stage anchored by perimeter table service, and tiered seating beyond the waiters’ service stations.

For the epicure, this production offers a dinner component one-hour before showtime that relies on gastronomic smoke and mirrors to draw the guest deeper into the Mexican experience.

According to Mexican Top Chef Alexis Bostelmann, “Each element of this magnificent show served as my inspiration, where imaginative curiosity is met with unexpected discovery,” said Bostelmann.

The adventure began with an edible menu,

followed by a polished slab of wood featuring a salad of edible flowers and Iberian ham, served with a lobster taco, a sweet potato, and fresh ceviche seasoned with coconut, mint and passion fruit.

I said “yes” to the protein option to garnish my salad: locally-sourced chinicuiles–a salty worm that feeds off maguey roots, and is often found swimming at the bottom of a mezcal bottle. A true Mexican delicacy!

Our featured beverage, in addition to a chilled bottle of Mecier Brut Champagne was Dragon Breath–a signature tequila concoction that was smokin’ and refreshing!

We noshed on a basket of bread bark,

and broccoli boughs while we waited for the second course.

My entree arrived under a meteor shell. I opted for braised short ribs nestled beside a dugout dinosaur bone of grilled veggies, and accompanied by a geode-styled crock filled with ginger, coconut and sweet potato mash.

Leah received a treasure chest of jewels…

accented by a fillet of salmon resting on a poblano-mint puree, elevated by a tower of grilled vegetables, and an oyster-sized seaweed salad topped with a coconut milk pearl.

All the while, our remaining senses were treated to traditional Latin music performed with a jazzy twist.

After the second course was cleared, we were presented with a novel idea–

–a quartet of desserts plated within the pages of the Periodic Table of Pastries.

Yum!

“My goal was to present a menu rooted in historical meaning that parallels the show’s beloved storyline so that once the performance begins, guests will connect all the details for a completely immersive theatrical experience,” Bostelmann added.

If dinner set the scene, then the show would bear more earthly delights. Noah, Nathan, Leah and I waited for the lights to dim…

and let Cirque du Soleil transport us to a magical place, where gravity is optional.

Continue to Part 2…

Ta-ta, Tulum!

January 16, 2020February 22, 2020Posted in Adventure, Architecture, culture, hiking, History, landscape, National Parks, Photography, sports, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Caribbean, Mayan ruins, Mesoamerican reef, Santa Fe Beach Club, snorkeling, Tulum, Yucatan5 Comments

GPS was set to Zona Arqueológica de Tulum, but upon arrival, the crossover was still under construction. Following signs to the next Retorno, I backtracked to a bustling turnoff. This looked nothing like the Tulum I remembered from 5 years back. Heck, Tulum used to be all jungle 20 years ago!

But now, it resembled a spider web of agents in uniformed shirts carrying clipboards and shouting directions in Spanglish. Our rental car was stopped short of the road to the ruins, where we were met by Freddy, a representative for Santa Fe Beach Club, whose job it was to redirect us to his business.

According to Freddy, my choices were limited since cars could no longer advance. Either I could park nearby for $20 and walk 1 km to the ruins, or pay $40 a head, granting us: closer parking; National Park entrance passes; access to the Beach Club–including toilet and shower provisions, one drink (choice of water, soda, or cerveza), and a half-hour water tour, followed by reef snorkeling (all gear provided).

“No way!” everyone voiced emphatically.

All of us were content to walk to the ruins for a fraction of the cost. As I prepared to park in an already overcrowded lot, Freddy offered us a winning alternative: the same all-inclusive package reduced to $27 per person–a 33% discount–traditionally offered to Mexican residents. Score! and lesson learned. Always negogiate the price!

While the ruins piqued their interest, the prospect of snorkeling atop the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef (largest reef system in the Western Hemisphere) sounded especially promising to Noah and Nate. After I revised our initial itinerary–which would have included a stop at Yal-ku in Akumal, with snorkeling in a brackish lagoon surrounded by sculptures–I sensed their enthusiasm to swim in the Caribbean.

I followed Freddy’s directions to Tulum’s Hotel Zone, and turned into a narrow seaside road, offering access to scores of Tulum’s boutique hotels and yoga retreats.
Unfortunately, Tulum’s current popularity may prove unsustainable, as it’s recent explosion of tourism and new resort construction have overtaken the town’s current infrastructure capacity, turning it into a eco-nightmare.

Nevertheless, developers continue to exploit the bohemian chic of Tulum. Despite government crackdowns (knowingly rife with corrupt officials), illegal projects continue, laying waste to precious jungle habitats that were once home to endangered jaguars and sea turtles.

We drove to the término, reaching our destination…

and luckily found a coveted parking spot along the mangroves by the beach entrance.

We walked the remaining half mile to the National Park on a rutted lane shared by cyclists, and local vendors selling water and trinkets.

Ordinarily, the surroundings are packed with tour groups and spectators, but we arrived on a calm day, without the usual hubbub.

In fact, the landscape was relatively quiet, and devoid of humanity…

except when I wanted an isolated picture of family.

After meandering through 13th century wreckage for more than an hour, we turned our attention to the beach, where the turquoise water looked so inviting.

Ruins Beach is accessible from the cliffs above, but 500 meters south, lies Sante Fe Beach, one of Tulum’s original hangout spots before the tourism boom…

and that was our next destination.

Per Freddy’s instructions, we sought out Captain Harrison, and lounged on PVC beach chairs under a delapidated canopy, waiting for our excursion on Brenda or half a dozen skiffs just like her.

Leah stayed on land after realizing her bonine fix had worn off, but Noah, Nate and I eagerly climbed aboard.

Our captain motored out to open water,

and offered a summarized history of the Mayans, and importance of Tulum…in Spanish.

Soon, we headed for the reef, where others had formed a floatilla of snorkelers.

Noah and Nathan eagerly jumped overboard for an under-the-sea swim…

while I remained on the surface, shooting pelicans…

and keeping track of my sons.

Once ashore, it was time for a beer and a shower. Despite the primitive outdoor plumbing on the beach, we concluded that $27 a head was a better bargain than any of us could have ever imagined for a family vacation adventure.

Free Fallin’ Off My Bucket List

January 10, 2020January 16, 2020Posted in Adventure, family, Mexico, Photography, sports, video, wanderlustTagged freefall, Playa del Carmen, SkyDiveMex, skydiving, Vidanta7 Comments

This tune helps set the mood, so hit play and read until the video:

I’ve been an adrenelin junkie most of my adult life, so it figures that one day I would satisfy my urge to jump out of a plane (with a parachute, of course). But for whatever reason, I never took advantage of the opportunity…until now.

The opportunity came in the form of a birthday present from my sons, Noah and Nate, but with a long ribbon attached: we’d be skydiving in Playa del Carmen, which was my gift to them to celebrate their belated birthdays!

We all came from different parts of the country. Leah and I flew from Jacksonville to Charlotte–where we met Nate, who transfered from Seattle–and continued with us to Cancun, hours ahead of Noah’s direct flight from Philly.

We thought about the weather when we arrived at Vidanta on Saturday. Our jump on Monday was conditional on the weather spirits. The winds had to be just right, and a sunny day would be a bonus. On Monday we got both.

I reserved a car from the resort’s travel center on Sunday, and returned the next day with my family to pick up my VW Polo at 9 am. I was expecting the agent, but nobody was there except for two women from Columbia, who were already waiting with their family for half-an-hour.

When we compared itineraries, the Columbians mentioned they were driving to Chichen Itza. In my mind, I thought that my family deserved priority check out. After all, we had a briefing and a plane to catch at Playa del Carmen’s aerodrome at 10 am. But I wasn’t going to make a stink about it, because we planned our departure with a half-hour contingency cushion. Nevertheless, a spark of adrenalin delivered a dose of shpilkes.

Besides, none of that mattered at 9:15 am when the agent was still a no-show, and the concierge kept her distance when Leah approached her about contacting the agent to secure an ETA, so we could make alternative plans. Another push of adrenalin and my irritation level moved to agita.

We hustled to a tram stop to catch an achingly s-l-o-w shuttle to the resort’s transit hub, and hailed a taxi the moment we got our bearings. A time check revealed 9:30 am. Google maps predicted a 10 am arrival. My pulse was racing just a bit, and I was feeling verklempt. We traveled the road to Playa mostly in silence.

We celebrated our arrival at exactly 10 am (how does Google do it?)

Typical paperwork to indemnify the company was waiting for us, and after weighing in, we anxiously waited for our tandem partners to arrive from an earlier jump. Nearby, our chutes were being prepared.

Leah was driven to the jump drop on Playacar’s beach, while my sons and I met David, Jose and Juan, who we would trust our lives to.

Finally, it was time to jump! On the way to the airport (walking distance), I learned that David had over 2400 jumps, of which 500 were tandem. I was really looking forward to this!

After an official passed us through security with a wand, we caught up with our pilot and plane, a twin engine AirVan outfitted for eight passengers parked along a single landing strip. Once we were prepped on the flight and outfitted with harnesses, we boarded the plane. Soon we were barrelling down the runway and airborne.

Our free fall time was approximately 40 seconds, and we were hurtling toward earth at approximately 200 km per hour (125 mph). No wonder my face was stretched to the max. But after touching down only meters away from our landing zone, I knew that this was a birthday gift I would long remember…

until the next time!

Thanks Noah and Nate for an adrenal rush of a lifetime!

Enchanted

January 4, 2020May 8, 2020Posted in culture, family, humor, Photography, satire, sports, travel, wanderlustTagged Christmas, Enchant, reindeer, Santa, St. Petersburg FL, The Trop, Tropicana Field3 Comments

It was reindeer season again in St. Petersburg, FL thanks to Enchant Christmas, a Vancouver-based lighting company that plants holiday fixtures in unlikely places.
The illusion of winter shone brightly inside Tropicana Field (The Trop), with 2.5 million bulbs ablaze.

Normally, home to the American League Tampa Bay Rays during the regular season,

the domed stadium had been transformed into an ice skating trail that curled around the third base line and ran across the infield.

Also included was the “world’s largest light maze,” anchored by a towering golden tree behind second base,

and a Christmas market bolstered by fast-food dining options. This year’s Tampa Bay theme was The Great Search, highlighting the disappearance of Santa’s nine over-sized reindeer–

all of whom were hiding within a 90,000 square foot light maze–waiting to be discovered and tracked through a scratch card.

Leah and I visited The Trop with our family from Albuquerque, and apprehensively outfitted the grandkids with skates for the first time.

There were spills and chills and grip-worn guard rails, but thankfully, no casualties, unlike others who required more immediate medical attention.

After a photo op with Santa…

we were off to explore the maze, helping Santa relocate his missing reindeer,

and stopping along the way…

to admire the fancy shapes…

or not.

While the kids had fun finding Santa’s reindeer and scratching their cards, Enchant had lost its enchantment for me after the fourth reindeer.

The canned carols had imprinted on my senses and the warm glow had turned to glare. I had reached the summit of Mount Monotony. That’s when I wished I was home scouting the local reindeer.

Night Lights in the Garden–Naples, FL

December 28, 2019December 28, 2019Posted in hiking, landscape, Nature, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged Biltmore, Christmas, Christmas lights, Holiday decorations, light painting, Naples Botanical Garden, New York City6 Comments

For some reason, thousands of lights wrapped around sultry-weather palm trees…

don’t suggest Christmas or winter wonderland to me in quite the same way as a traditionally decorated evergreen.

A live oak decorated with oversized ornaments comes close,

but it’s still no match for the festive vibe that envelopes New York City during the holidays,

where everything is bigger…

and brighter.

Not that there’s anything wrong with lit palm trees.

Nevertheless, there is a tradition in Naples, Florida that dates back to 2009, when tiki torches first illuminated the town’s 170-acre botanical gardens.

Since then, the holiday light show has evolved to “to accentuate the plants themselves and their textures, silhouettes and natural beauty,” according to Ralph Klebosis, event productions manager.

While some of the displays were fascinating unto themselves…

photographing the event pulled me in a completely different direction after I noticed a pulsing plant projector.

If this event is about night lights, then why not capture the light source and paint with it, I mused? And so I did. The images are a product of serendipity, and represent a different take on Nights of Light.

All the same, artificial light could never improve on Mother Nature!

White Sands National Park

December 23, 2019December 24, 2019Posted in hiking, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged gypsum, New Mexico, sledding, White Christmas, White Sands National Park8 Comments

As of December 20, 2019, White Sands National Monument became America’s 62nd national park, and just in time for those seeking a very white Christmas.

Spanning 275 square miles of the Tularosa Basin,

the ethereal dunes sweep across an other-worldy carpet of snow-white gypsum–

–remarkably cool to the touch,

and perfect for sledding,

or dog walking.

Despite initial impressions of isolation,

within a vast barren landscape…

White Sands harbors a fragile eco-system that manages to survive…

despite its harsh surroundings…

and uncertain conditions.

But whichever way the wind blows…

the real fascination of White Sands occurs when the sun dips below the horizon,

and awakens the magic that ignites the desert glow.

Have yourself a Happy Holiday and a White Christmas!

Harriman Hikers

December 2, 2019Posted in hiking, landscape, Photography, wanderlustTagged Harriman Hikers, Harriman State Park, New Jersey, New York4 Comments

The four of us (Doug, Arlene, Leah and I) have been hiking together for nearly 15 years.

We bonded as regulars of Harriman Hikers–a 45 year-old organization of singles from New York and New Jersey who continue to gather every Sunday, year-round, rain or shine at Ramapo College to hike Harriman State Park, along with other trails in Wawayanda State Park, Norvin Green State Forest, Ramapo Reservation and the southern Hudson Valley.

I met the Harriman Hikers through Leah just a few months into our courtship, and accepted an invitation to hike with her group. I felt confident that sufficient time had passed after rehabilitating a broken leg and torn knee caused by a Kamakazi snowboader 6 months earlier.

Big mistake! These were dedicated hikers who had mapped out a grueling 12-mile hike of steep ascents and descents, leaving me noticeably lame at the end of 6 hours in the woods. I thought that Leah might have to carry me out.

As time passed, my stamina improved, as did my personal relationships within the group. Over time, Leah and I strayed from the pack and blazed our own trail, hiking different destinations at our own convenience with Doug and Arlene, who initially met through Harriman Hikers and eventually married.

Since moving from New Jersey to St. Augustine, Leah and I have maintained a long distance relationship with Doug and Arlene, and we were eager to reprise our traditional Thanksgiving hike together…especially after over-eating with family the night before!

It was time to return to Harriman. We arranged to meet at the Lake Skannatati parking lot located off Seven Lakes Drive. Fortunately, the temperature was more conducive to hiking than the prior year (see Becoming My Parents).

As always, it was great catching up with familiar faces in familiar places. We leisurely looped around the mounds of granite…

…traveling 5.66 miles over 3:42:26,

and reached the ridgeline approximately one hour into the hike. The wind was brisk at the clearing, but the view from the top of the hill was worthy of the chill.

And the warmth of our friendship carried us the rest of the way.

A Foodie Landmark

November 28, 2019November 28, 2019Posted in Food, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged Philadelphia, Reading Terminal Market6 Comments

One of the best and worst places to be during the holidays is Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia.

Usually, it’s crazy busy here.

And the day before Thanksgiving is no exception.

Today, most customers are consumed with shopping for the holiday meal.

And they are shelling out big bucks for high-end produce…

and meats.

With international cuisines,

and so many specialty foods and gourmet desserts under one roof,

there’s no better place to taste,

and treat,

and chill…

than at this National Historic Landmark.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wynwood Walls

November 11, 2019November 11, 2019Posted in Art, culture, landscape, museum, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged graffiti, Kobra, Miami, Miami Beach, Wynwood WallsLeave a comment

Miami Beach was too overcast and blustery to spend time by the ocean,

and the hotel pool was too chilly to swim…

so Leah and I took an excursion to Wynwood Walls to survey the graffiti draped across Miami’s warehouse district.

While there is plenty to see and appreciate within the gates…

…and inside the containers…

a walk around the neighborhood delivers an extended impression of what can happen when an idea catches fire,

and ignites a movement that transcends artistic boundaries and property lines.

Harpers Ferry–Then and Now

November 6, 2019November 6, 2019Posted in culture, hiking, History, landscape, museum, National Parks, Photography, Politics, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Civil War, Donald Trump, Harper's Ferry, impeachment, John Brown, slavery, West Virginia2 Comments

One hundred and sixty years ago, John Brown and his abolitionist brigade played a pivotal role in American history by raiding the South’s largest federal armory in Harpers Ferry with the intention of fueling a rebellion of slaves from Virginia and North Carolina, and envisioning a subsequent society where all people–regardless of color–would be free and equal.

The initial siege caught U.S. soldiers off guard and the armory and munitions plant were captured with little resistance. Brown’s marauders took sixty townsfolk hostage (including the great grandnephew of George Washington), and slashed the telegraph wires in an attempt to isolate the town from outside communication.

However, a B&O passenger train, originally detained at the bridge, was allowed to continue its journey to Baltimore, where employees sounded the alarm and troops were immediately dispatched to quell the insurrection.

In another of Brown’s miscalculations, the local militia pinned down Brown’s insurgents inside the engine house while awaiting reinforcements,

yet newly freed slaves never came to his rescue.

Ninety U.S. Marines under Colonel Robert E. Lee’s command arrived by train the next evening and successfully stormed the stronghold the following day. When the dust had settled, ten of Brown’s raiders were killed (including two of his sons),

five had escaped, and seven were captured, including John Brown.

John Brown was quickly tried and convicted of treason against the Commonwealth of Virginia.

Just before his hanging on December 2, 1859, Brown prophesied the coming of civil war: “I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood.”

How right he was! To the North, Brown was a martyr; to the South, he was a traitor. To a fractured and fragile country, he was the first American to be sentenced and executed for treason.

John Brown’s raid and subsequent trial hardenened the separatism between the country’s abolitionist and pro-slavery factions,

…and advanced the disparate and insurmountable ideologies of the North and the South, until only the Civil War could satisfy the issue and begin healing the nation.

The term treason has been loosely bandied about of late and with tremendous fanfare, albeit little distinction. It’s become a familiar talking point for Donald Trump, whose insulting language and hyperbolic demagoguery continue to rouse his supporters as it diminishes the civility of our national conversation.

Bold and courageous public servants and patriots who are honor bound to defend democracy have been branded as traitors and accused of treasonous behavior because they dare to speak out against corruption and wrongdoing inside the White House.

And the implications are worrisome, for the stakes are high. In a country that values free speech, treason is not about displaced loyalties; it has nothing to do with political dissent; and it has no standing in speaking truth to power. Treason is about pledging allegiance to power and greed instead of American values, like diversity and unity.

As before, politics continues to polarize the nation,

while our Legislative Branch of government seeks a constitutional remedy against the Executive Branch through an impeachment process. And once again, ideological differences have fostered veiled threats of civil war.

If history is to be our guide, then John Brown must be our beacon. During his sentencing he lamented, “…had I so interfered in behalf of the rich, the powerful, the intelligent, the so-called great, or in behalf of any of their friends…and suffered and sacrificed what I have in this interference, it would have been all right; and every man in this court would have deemed it an act worthy of reward rather than punishment.”

Sounds remarkably familiar.

More than ever, we must steer through political currents, and find our way around deception, obfuscation and misdirection if our democracy is to stay afloat.

Analytics Liberation

October 26, 2019October 26, 2019Posted in Airstream, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged analytics, blogging, Discover, followers, statistics, WordPress8 Comments

It happened early yesterday morning, although I was unaware until I awoke. I’d kept tabs from time to time, and I knew I was inching closer. And while I anticipated the result sooner than later, there was no predicting when.

It first crossed my mind earlier this summer when I began recording my travels through Southern Africa and the Great Lakes. Little by little, the notion that new posts were finding a newer audience, and past posts were being mined from archives was reassuring. But it wasn’t until I returned home, and caught up on summer highlights from my travels that I began realizing the possibility.

And it remained elusive until an alert on my phone notified me of the news earlier in the day.

After 2 years and 7 months, after 320 posts, after more than 187,000 written words, after over 5,600 uploaded photographs, after 23,000-plus visits and nearly 45,000 views, I had finally amassed my 2,000th WordPress follower.

However, to pass this milestone, it also felt at times like I was carrying this millstone.

What was once a convenient means to share the view from my Airstream with family and friends, had blossomed into a creative umbrella for me after the Discover editors saw fit to feature my blog. The initial response was seismic…yet emphemeral. While I initially gained new readers from the exposure, their enthusiasm seemed to fade over time. My followers were moving on. Alas, fewer views and fewer likes.

My confidence was soon replaced by self-doubt. Had I failed to keep things fresh? Had I run out of fascinating places to visit and report? Were my destinations and musings no longer blog-worthy? I also began questioning my purpose as a blogger. Was I a photographer who writes, or a writer who photographs?

My immediate, albeit measured response was to shape my waning success by constructing posts with wider appeal, and sharing them with the 145 countries that once signaled interest in my blog.

I diversified the content too, choosing to dabble in humor (April Fools PSA) poetic expressions (A Sleeping Bear Dunes Ditty), art and music criticism (Joshua Tree–The Album and the National Park), political commentary (Anatomy of an Email), personal relationships (Happy Birthday, Dad!), and even trying my hand at serializing a book (Uncertainty: Prologue).

I must confess to moments of obsessing over numbers–thinking about ways to boost my online productivity, with guarantees for:

First page ranking on Google, Yahoo, and Bing
Improving organic traffic
Securing my website from Google Penguin updates 4.0
Increasing my conversion rate
Targeting future local markets

…but then I rejected the notion outright! Why would I pay to acquire an audience? After all, this isn’t a business where I have to drive masses of asses to my site.

Bottom line–I no longer believe I have an obligation to entertain/inform my followers. Indeed, I only have a desire to continue expressing myself, and I’m hopeful my followers will allow me–however and whenever–and still support me.

In the meantime, I’ll quietly celebrate my small victory in fulfilling an unexpected goal before moving on to the next challenge.

Here’s to the next 2,000 followers.

P.S. I’m a writer AND a photographer!

Tent Rocks

October 21, 2019October 21, 2019Posted in hiking, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged geology, Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks, National Monument, New Mexico, Pajarito Plateau, patience, Pueblo de Cochiti, Sandia Mointains, Tecolote Trail2 Comments

Leah and I were yearning for a satisfying hike through the mountains of New Mexico that we’d yet to explore. While we were happy hiking the Tecolote Trail in the Sandia Mountains–which offered pleasant panoramas of the desert floor stretching nine miles to South Mountain, and views of Sandia Crest that had us wishing we could stay longer–

…the whipping wind that swept across the overlook killed any notion of lingering along the mesa top to enjoy the spots of fall color that recently dotted the evergreen terrain.

However, the following day, a stroll through Albuquerque’s Old Town…

brought us to a photography gallery that showcased Southwestern landscapes and introduced us to Tent Rocks.

“That place looks cool. We should go there,” I asserted.

“I agree, but how do you know if we can even get there from here?” Leah questioned.

After consulting Google, I learned that Tent Rocks was a National Monument located within the Pueblo of Cochiti, only an hour north of Albuquerque.

The following day, riding north on NM-14 (part of the scenic and historic Turquise Trail National Scenic Byway), we took a left turn onto NM-301, a rutted, dusty road connecting to NM-22.

We approached the earthen wall of the Cochiti Dam, a controversial water management project approved by Congress in 1960, and finished in 1975 by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

Stretching 5 miles across the desert, and rising 250 feet above the Rio Grande, the resultant lake flooded sacred lands and fields belonging to local tribes for centuries.

We continued west on NM-22 for two miles before arriving at Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument. We pulled up behind seven parked cars–each one waiting to pay five bucks to the BLM park ranger stretching his legs beside the fee station. Our SUV idled a minute or two, but the line was at a standstill.

The sign post beside us forecasted a 30-minute wait-time from our current position.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” and Leah was out of the car, working her way to the front of the line.

The news arrived in under a minute…offering a Trail Guide.

“All 94 parking spaces are taken,” Leah explains with a hint of exasperation. “They probably arrived when the gates opened at 8am.”

“Okay. So that was two hours ago,” I respond, admitting the obvious. “It says here on the map that the trail is 1.5 miles in and out, so hopefully, a lot of people should be on their way out by now.”

“How long do you think we’ll have to wait here?” asks Leah.

“According to the sign, it’s a 30-minute wait,” I assert.

“Smartass!” she hurls.

After 20 minutes of anticipation, I noticed movement in the ranks! Two cars in front gave up the wait and U-turned, leaving us in sixth place.

Silly people. If only they had waited a few minutes longer. Soon after, a rash of cars passed us on the way out, and we were on our way, cruising through four miles of dip-after-dip, tribal land road, before reaching the parking zone.

While Leah and Carrie (Leah’s daughter) waited in line for the only outhouse in the vicinity, I caught up on my reading at the trailhead.

As interested as I was to learn about New Mexico’s volcanic eruptions and its pyroclastic flows, I was itching to get on the trail and weave through the slot canyon.

The canyon walls were so narrow in places, that only one person could navigate the labyrinth at a time.

It reminded me of the way that road crews monitor traffic on a one way road…

…and it was vaguely reminiscent of a similar protocol at the fee station and toilet.

Of course, with so many early hikers already on the trail and now turning back, it made for several occasional stops, and many pleasant exchanges along the way.

However, when the canyon finally opened up, we were greeted with a greater appreciation of what seven million years had done to the place.

Even the trees seemed magical, managing to stand in the shadow of such uncertain footing.

Once we reached a clearing in the trail, we began our 630-foot ascent to the mesa top, giving us a better perspective of our lair,

and freeing us from all obstructions,

until we could gaze across the Jemez Mountains,

and remind ourselves, once again, why it’s always a good idea to wait one’s turn in line.

Balloonatic

October 17, 2019October 17, 2019Posted in landscape, money, Nature, Photography, travel, wanderlustTagged Albuquerque, Balloon Fiesta, New Mexico, ReleaseLeave a comment

While I’m on the topic of balloons (see Balloon Glowdeo™, and Botswana by Balloon) I’ve recalled my first balloon ride from two years ago:

“$450 for a balloon ride?! You’ve got to be kidding” I exclaim to the Rainbow Ryder rep on the phone.

“That’s the price, sir. We are the exclusive balloon ride provider for Balloon Fiesta, unless you’re willing to fly outside the ‘Albuquerque Box’,” she managed.

“What’s the ‘Albuquerque Box’?“ I ask.

“It’s a weather phenomenon peculiar to Albuquerque,” she points out, “where the lowest winds move in one direction, while the higher winds are moving in the opposite direction. That way, our pilots can take advantage of the different air currents–by floating higher or lower, and returning you close to your original launch point.

“Uh, Ohh-kay,” I shrug, “and that’s worth $450?”

“That’s the rate for a balloon ride during Balloon Fiesta, sir. And I only have a few openings left for Saturday and Sunday,” she warns.

“Your price is sky high,” I offer, “so I’m gonna have to think about it.”

And the call is over.

I turned to Leah. “Looks like my balloon ride went from bucket list to “fuck-it” list.”

And that was a drag, since Balloon Fiesta is the largest gathering of hot-air balloons in the world, with more balloons lifting off together (mass ascension) than anywhere.

Leah sensed my disappointment. “Maybe it’s cheaper if you found an outfitter outside the box. Would you still be interested?

“I think I could manage to get excited,” I lamented.

After a flurry of phoning and pricing, I secured a dawn launch on Saturday for $250 with World Balloon, albeit on the northwest side of town, miles away from the Fiesta.

Launch day bears all the markings for a picture-perfect take-off: early air temperature hovers in the mid-40’s; the wind is streaming from the north at 8 mph; and the sky is clear as shimmering water.

A group of fifty men, women, and children are sub-divided into five, and assigned to a pilot and his balloon crew. Each chase van carries two wranglers, ten passengers, and a trailer packed with gear. We congregate at a barren football-sized lot, and watch as five balloons are prepared for flight.

Baskets are unloaded,

and assembled.

The burners are tested.

With dawn breaking over the horizon, the balloon is unfurled, and rigged to the basket.

An industrial fan blows cold air into the mouth of limp polyester, and behold, the balloon takes shape.

Roy aims the burner flame into the mouth to heat the air,

and eventually expands the envelope to fullness.

The buoyant balloon rights itself,

and the six of us scramble inside to bid adieu to terra firma, and gently float away…

…one step ahead of a second balloon.

All the while, balloons below…

…are preparing to follow our Airstream (wink wink, nod nod).

Our pilot, Roy pulls on the burners,

carrying us to 5000 ft. above the treetops,

where a birds-eye view of the valley below,

reveals a cityscape punctuated by fantastic dots of floating colors.

Yet closer inspection reveals the full dimension of a multi-colored mushroom gliding through an azure sky.

After forty-five minutes of soaring and dipping through neighborhoods–arousing excitable dogs,

and adoring children–

Roy is tasked with finding a landing site along our flight path–wide open and away from wires–and accessible to the chase team who’s been following us since our launch. After a few false starts, we locate a large house devoid of landscaping, and gently settle back to earth.

However, a chain-link fence lines the perimeter, and a locked gate gives us no way out. A woman from Birmingham, AL vaults over the side of the basket and runs to the front door to alert the owners to unlock the gate, but nobody’s home.

So it’s back in the air, with the van in pursuit, until we mobilize at a strip mall.