I am Lost and Found

Tag: Nature

Don’t Drive Maui’s Road to Hana Without This One Simple Thing

I wrestle with my iPhone, trying to connect it to CarPlay as we race out of the Enterprise parking garage. Speed bumps ignored, the Jeep lurches and bounces like a bronco at a Texas rodeo. Was a 4×4 really necessary? The answer will be clear soon enough, but suffice it to say—hell, yeah!

Finally, I pair successfully and set up the Shaka Guide—an app designed to expertly navigate the Road to Hana—a drive on eastern Maui known for its crazy switchbacks, towering waterfalls, and dramatic landscapes.

‘It’s about the journey, not the destination,’ I tell my husband and daughter for the umpteenth time. They scowl. This is new territory for Daniel, who thinks the destination is the destination. I close my eyes and practice square breathing.

Shep Who?

When we exited Kahului Airport after twelve hours on two planes, an overnight in Waikiki, and an ungodly early morning hop to Maui, we were understandably tired (aka grumpy, under-caffeinated, and hangry). But we were on Maui. Who can complain?

I thought of my dad. As he’s mentioned more than once, one of his fraternity brothers lives on Maui. “Would you be able to meet up with Shep? You know, my fraternity brother, Shep? You’d love Shep. He’s a great guy.”

My dad has a weekly Zoom with his college buddies. And although I don’t think anyone aside from my dad gets a chance to speak, Shep is a name I hear often. My dad has great friends, all of whom are impressive and unique. My dad is a great friend. He’s also impressive and unique. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to see Shep on this trip, I tell my dad. We are driving the Road to Hana. Plus, I’m sure Shep has things to do.

So when we stumble wearily from the plane, our carry-ons and neck pillows trailing behind us, I jump when Ella shouts, “Oh my god, Mom, look!” I follow her gaze. The wall ahead has a banner that reads ‘Maui Nui Hall of Fame’ above a grid of portraits. Sandwiched between Woody Harrelson and Paul Simon is Shep. Shep Gordon. Hollywood talent manager, film agent, and producer.

Oh, and loyal fraternity brother to one Barry Lyman.

But First, (Kona) Coffee

Our hotel in Hana can take up to eight hours to reach, depending on how many fun stops one makes along the way. That’s the point of the Shaka App, I tell Daniel, ‘fun stops.’ Places to watch waterfalls, swim, hike, walk a black sand beach, climb through lava caves, and explore. It’s the journey, the journey, the journey…

This is how I knew we wouldn’t be able to meet Shep. I’d be happy if Daniel stopped for breakfast.

A perky male voice pipes up in surround sound, “Aloha! Welcome to the Shaka Guide’s Road to Hana driving tour!” Whoa, it’s too early in the morning for that kind of tone. I lower the volume. “It’s going to be a great day on our drive and tour together!” the voice continues. Ella and Daniel look nervous. I’m as thrilled as Victoria Ratliff clutching her first G+T of the day. This is going to be fantastic.

“Our trusty, albeit overeager, guide needs a name,” I say. “We’ll be listening to him for hours. Any ideas?”

“Shep!” Ella and Daniel shout in unison.

So begins our adventure along the Road to Hana.

Maui’s Most Famous Road

In the 1500s, Maui’s King Piʻilani initiated the construction of what was essentially a long, dirt footpath across Eastern Maui. The path was about 5 feet wide and stretched over 138 miles, enabling travel and trade across the island. By the 1870s, the road was improved, yet still unpaved.

It would remain that way until 1926, the official opening of ‘The Road to Hana,’ when groundwork and bridge construction were implemented for a more passable route. (I guess crossing rivers and streams by rope swing got old quickly.) Fast forward to the 1960s—a fully paved, albeit harrowing, road was complete.

By the numbers, the Road to Hana is impressive. This 64.4-mile scenic tropical drive that connects Kahului to Hana town has 620 curves (some with switchbacks that double back on themselves), 59 bridges (46 of which are single lane), over 18 waterfalls, countless beaches (some with black sand), bamboo forests, marbled eucalyptus trees, and ocean views.

Divorce Highway

Hana Highway’s switchbacks, sweetly rebranded as curves, had been on my mind since I booked the trip. Daniel and I have braved many death-defying, hair-raising, and winding roads: Corsica, Mexico, and Mallorca are a few standouts. We survived them, but not without a few heated discussions. I think he drives too fast; he thinks I worry too much about his driving too fast. We’re both right. But being right hardly matters when I’m convinced we’re about to launch off a cliff every 45 seconds.

Having Shep alert us of upcoming sharp turns and single-lane bridges eases my mind. He even describes how to share the road with the locals, who careen around curves like Formula One hopefuls.

I’ll let Shep tell Daniel to slow down, tell us where the nearest bathrooms are, and where we should stop for a snack. And he does. Hence, the Road to Hana, sometimes dubbed ‘Divorce Highway,’ is a pretty pleasant ride. Shep, if I didn’t thank you earlier, hear me now. You saved my marriage.

Navigating the Road to Hana With The Shaka Guide

Over the next three days, the Shaka Guide becomes our lifeline—highlighting 33 tour stops and 125 Tour Audio Points over 10-12 hours. I know what you’re thinking. Did Shep talk for 10-12 hours? In the downtime between talking points, the Shaka Guide played traditional Hawaiian music. The ukulele and drums set the tone—soft, rhythmic, and pure aloha vibes.

Since the Shaka app is connected to Google Maps, Shep always knew exactly where we were. Even if we didn’t. Even when it bordered on creepy. “Ignore the row of illegally parked cars ahead on the right,” Shep instructed. Then, reading my mind. “Don’t worry; better examples of marbled eucalyptus are ahead.” Sure enough, a few cars were stopped on the right, just like Shep said.

I have to give the Shaka Guide props; this kind of attention to detail is hard to pull off in real-time. To say we got more out of the drive than if we’d been reading a traditional guidebook is an understatement.

We would have missed critical turn-offs on a road where backtracking isn’t an option. We’d have missed magical views while arguing who has the right of way on 46 single-lane bridges. And we would have missed some stops altogether, clueless about what lay beyond the next bend.

It’s not called Divorce Highway for nothing.

The Road to Hana: Starting Out

The Road to Hana officially starts at mile marker 0. Shep tells us not to worry if the marker is missing, as travelers sometimes take it as a souvenir. We stop in Paʻia Town to grab a coffee and provision up. This is the first and only town we will see before we reach Hana Town in 6-7-8 hours. And although there are promises of huli-huli chicken and banana bread stands along the route, there’s no way I’m letting hanger ruin our journey.

Thanks to advanced planning, we had reserved The Hana-Maui Resort for three nights. Hana-Maui is the only traditional resort in Hana Town. With only 66 rooms and suites, it’s 620 hell-ish curves back to Paʻia Town if you don’t book one.

Check Hana-Maui Resort Availability here

Approaching Mile Marker 0

Our first stop is Hoʻokipa Beach, just off the highway past Paʻia Town. Roosters roam the gravelly parking lot, pecking with intention, while the Pacific Ocean surges below. Although called the ‘windsurfing capital of the world,’ we only see surfers sitting in the lineup and a few napping monk seals.

We return to the Jeep and drive towards the turn-off to the legendary surf break, Jaws. During the winter, we learn the waves here can reach as high as 70ft. Shep tells us to “Be aware; it’s a long and bumpy dirt road that leads to the beach.” We’re warned that the single-lane dirt track to see the break is sometimes impassable, with deep ruts and deep puddles. 4WD is a must. We skip it and vow to see it on our way back to the airport (cue foreshadowing).

Shep says we are approaching mile marker 0. If Daniel’s concerned that we’ve already stopped twice and haven’t officially started the road to Hana, it doesn’t show.

The Road to Hana: Bamboo Forests, Lava Caves, and Waterfalls

Our three days of driving are as exciting, adventurous, and scenic as I’d hoped. We see majestic waterfalls, including Twin Falls (mile marker 2) and 400-foot Waimoku Falls (mile marker 42). We trek the Pipiwai Trail, past ancient banyan trees and through tall bamboo groves, whose clacking sounds like a line of tumbling dominoes.

The sandwiches stave off hunger, as planned, but a stop at Aunty Sandy’s (mile marker 16) for a warm loaf of banana bread is the crowning culinary moment of the morning. The raging Pacific crashes against lava rocks. Palms cling to the beach and lean permanently sideways from the wind. Everything along the road feels green, mystical, and alive.

Shep tells us that if we haven’t bought tickets in advance for Waʻanapanapa State Park (mile marker 32), one of Maui’s most famous black sand beaches, we’re out of luck, as same-day passes can’t be purchased. “Ummmm, no, I hadn’t secured advance tickets,” I tell Daniel and Ella. They don’t seem to mind. Daniel probably views this as a win—an extra hour at our resort in Hana Town.

Ever the optimist, Shep reminds us there’s much more to see and do ahead. After a short ukulele melody, he has us pull off the road.

“Maybe Shep’s wrong?” Ella says as we look around. “Where’s the cave?”

But just then, we spot an opening, about three feet tall, on the edge of the highway. We peer in; it’s pitch black. ‘Trust Shep,’ I think as I scramble in. We crawl through the short, drippy, black lava cave and pop out into the forest (mile marker 23). Exhilarating and surprising, this is what the Road to Hana is about.

Hana Town: Hidden Beaches, Food Trucks, and the Hana-Maui Resort

We arrive at the Hana-Maui Resort around 4pm. It’s been a day. Miles of hairpin turns, stone bridges, gushing waterfalls, hiking, and eating. Our weathered green cottage is an oasis.—modest and clean, with 360-degree uninterrupted ocean views and an oversized veranda. We embrace stillness for the first time in days.

The only traditional restaurant in the area is at Hana-Maui, where we have two of our three dinners. But lunch steals the show in Hana Town, where groupings of food trucks keep locals and tourists well-fed. Choices abound, including homemade tacos filled with chicken, shrimp, or beef, poke bowls, huli-huli chicken, Thai food, acai bowls, and smoothies. Lunch is so good; I crave lunch for dinner. But unfortunately, the food trucks close at 630pm.

After visiting the coffee truck one morning, I sit on our deck with my book. On my left, just outside the property’s perimeter, I notice people heading down the steep hill towards the bay. ‘Where are they going?’ I wonder. Curiosity gets the best of me. Ella and Daniel are poolside, honing their Hawaiian tropic tans. I text them my general whereabouts and set off.

A ten-minute cliff-hugging hike takes me to a crescent cove with enormous red lava cinder cliffs and a red sand beach. A wall of black lava rocks absorbs the Pacific break, revealing a tranquil pool. There’s no feeling quite like discovering a hidden beach. Although not exactly hidden. As the Shaka Guide later revealed, this is Red Sand Beach (mile marker 35).

I bask in the sun and enjoy the solitude on our last full day in Hana.

Check out the Hana-Maui Resort Reviews Here

On the Road to Hana, Trust Your Guide

Our flight to Kona is at 12:30pm and the last thing I want is to get stuck on the Hana Highway. I package our early morning wake-up with the promise of one last stop at our favorite coffee truck and the chance to see anything we missed on the way up. Daniel has his heart set on Jaws.

The all-knowing Maui gods say the drive from Hana Town to Paʻia Town is roughly 2 ½ hours without stops. Daniel clocks in at 1 hour 48 minutes. He’d make a great local. So when we get to the turn-off for this mythical surf break, I’m unconcerned; we have time to spare.

Our Jeep creeps down the single-track dirt path, which gets steeper, narrower, muddier, and more deeply rutted the further we go. We cross puddles of indeterminate depth. Mud attacks the windows and obscures our view. The silence in the car is deafening. Even Shep is speechless. What have we gotten ourselves into? There’s no going back—turning around is physically impossible.

Finally, we reach Jaws, locally known as Peʻahi—one of the world’s most famous big wave surf spots. It earned its nickname from the sudden, monstrous swells that can appear seemingly out of nowhere.

Legendary Surf Break, Jaws

We hop out of the Jeep and anxiously gaze out over the cliff. Jaws’ waves are tragically underwhelming. But none of us would have appreciated them, even if they had towered at 70ft with Kai Lenny deep in the barrel. We were too worried about the mile-long trek back to the highway. I ask Daniel what he thinks, assuming he will assuage my fears like always. “50/50,” he says with little confidence.

I start square breathing. Ella checks her phone for a signal, and Daniel puts the Jeep into gear. Off we go.

Some journeys lead to great destinations, others to great stories. On the Road to Hana, we got both.

Did You Notice?

You don’t have to be a cartographer to recognize my list of sights is geographically out of order, but they are the moments that made our journey. Use the Shaka Guide to map out your adventure. Click here to get yours!

Get Your Own Shaka Guide! Click Here.

April 5, 2025
How To Experience the Low Country at Palmetto Bluff

Montage Palmetto Bluff is a well-preserved river town, complete with Low Country marshlands, a bird sanctuary, and centuries-old live oaks on the May River in South Carolina. Striking the right blend of highly-curated activities, creative dining options, and varied accommodations, Palmetto Bluff has everything it takes to experience a little Low Country living.

Not long ago, I read an article that sought to quantify the value of ‘things’ versus ‘experiences.’ The writer argued that happiness associated with things (jewelry, cars, electronics) is relatively short-lived compared to experiences (trips, dinners, outdoor adventures), where happiness lasts far longer.

Interestingly, it didn’t matter whether the experience itself was considered ‘good’ or ‘bad’. For instance, let’s say it rained the entire week we spent in Thailand (true). Or, maybe I accidentally booked a hotel in the wrong town on the Amalfi Coast (also true). The memories attached to those experiences are thought to give longer-lasting joy and make for funnier, more engaging stories. True. True. In other words, the laughter lives on.

Family planning with Palmetto Bluff

If there was ever a time to make new memories, that time is now. Some of us have young kids at home, remote learning. Some of us have our college students home for the near future. Perhaps this is an opportunity to capitalize on a weird historical moment and add a few adventures to the family books.

Last October, my family visited Palmetto Bluff in South Carolina. My husband, my kids, my parents (all four of them), my sister, her husband, and their kids. It was our first time in the Low Country. I didn’t fully grasp the importance of our reunion at the time. Those memories are even more poignant, as we haven’t been together since.

The time to start planning future family gatherings is right now. Hotels and airlines are more forgiving with change fees and cancellation policies. Wheels are in motion to make travel safer in the pandemic climate. Wheels are in actual motion across the country, as road trips have become the most popular method of transport. Travel wants us back. Our extended families miss us. Let’s go.

What is the Low Country?

I’m from the northeast. I know mountain life. I know lake life and city life. What I don’t know is Southern life. What does Low Country even mean, I wondered? I headed to Merriam-Webster. Low Country is ‘the low-lying region along the Atlantic coasts of South Carolina and Georgia.’ A bit dry, Mr. Merriam, but informative.

I googled deeper—all the way to page two—the ‘Google graveyard.’ From a cultural perspective, Low Country combines the influences of Southern, Native American, European, Caribbean, and African roots. It is known for its sub-tropical climate, which produces intricate marshlands thick with native birds and reptiles. Now, this was starting to sound more interesting.

Palmetto Bluff fills a Tall Order

Finding a scenic, conveniently located destination accommodating a large group aged 11 to 77 was no easy feat. We were searching for a place with multiple dining choices and a variety of cuisines to please the wide-ranging tastebuds of our crew.

It needed to be on the East Coast and have mild enough weather in mid-October to maximize time outdoors. We wanted a place that offered activities to suit all fitness levels.

Finally, it needed to be self-contained so we could have the freedom to explore yet still feel together. A tall order, indeed. As we soon discovered, it was nothing that Palmetto Bluff couldn’t handle.

Click here for my Wish List Destination Hot Sheet—it’s Free

Cue Palmetto Bluff

Palmetto Bluff is extraordinarily beautiful, in a way that is somewhat unreal and weirdly perfect. Like, The Truman Show, type of perfect. The landscape is nature-filled, inundated with various flora and fauna, including massive live oaks.

These ancient oaks drip with silvery gray beards of Spanish moss that glisten with the morning dew. Later in the afternoon, the elongated shadows from the descending sun added to the utter majesty of the trees.

At times, it seemed as if a ringmaster was shouting orders from behind closed doors. ‘Cue the alligator!’ ‘Now, the egrets!’ Ducklings, start waddling!’ Where exactly was he hiding?

The character of the Low Country was constantly seen, felt, tasted, and heard at Palmetto Bluff. Over five leisurely days, my family settled into a lulling sensory download—slow, Low Country life.

Palmetto Bluff’s Village Home 33

Montage Palmetto Bluff has 200 rooms and 35 private residences, which vary in size and style, ranging from traditional hotel rooms and one-bedroom river cottages to three, four, and five-bedroom village homes.

Our family took over a Victorian-inspired, five-bedroom, elegantly-appointed home. Village Home 33 overlooked one of the many low-arching bridges that unite and define the property. Renting a home versus individual rooms allowed our family to have space to be together and space to be apart. Village Home 33 became our family’s home base, with many common areas inside and out.

Meticulously kept gardens led to the entrance, flanked by two welcoming front porches. A swinging outdoor daybed with pillows in patriotic colors beckoned. I immediately knew that I was going to have trouble leaving the porch.

The house’s style was quasi-traditional, Restoration Hardware meets Southern Living Magazine. It had a modern, open-plan kitchen, multiple dining areas, a living room filled with books and games, and a 50-inch flat-screen television.

The master bath felt spa-like, with layers of natural colors, intricately designed, tiled walls, and a deep, soaking tub. No creature comfort was spared.

Location rules

They say location is everything. Village Home 33 was within walking distance of the property’s River House, where an intimate yet lively bar awaited. Here, too, was the destination for nightly s’mores. Two oversized stone fire pits crackled with fire just as the sun disappeared from view. Nearby, a rolling cart was heaped with various flavored marshmallows and milk chocolate bars. An indulgence for any age, indeed.

The home was also close to the Canoe Club, a thoughtfully created dining space with a clubby, warm, low-lit atmosphere.

Buffalo’s, also nearby, was the scene of our hearty Sunday brunch, southern biscuits and all.

Cole’s, a restaurant set in neighboring Moreland Village, overlooked the tranquil marshlands. A fun, casual dining space, its unique selling point was its state-of-the-art bowling alley. We spent a few post-dinner hours attempting strikes and spares with the kids. The sounds of pins getting knocked down and re-racked brought me back to my teenage years.

Worth noting—the house or room number is the way to pay for everything at Palmetto Bluff. Yes, everything. It is the local currency. This includes the stores in the village, the restaurants, the markets, and all activities. We discovered that the kids having access to that tidbit of information proved costly upon checkout.

Click here for my Wish List Destination Hot Sheet—it’s Free

What’s next at Palmetto Bluff?

Fire-engine red kayaks were waiting to be launched at the docks behind the perfectly constructed village. The tranquil, interconnected inlets and ponds weaved their way around Palmetto Bluff, allowing us to see various birds, pass underneath low-slung bridges, and look for sunbathing alligators on the grassy banks.

Great Blue Herons swooped surprisingly close overhead, trying to catch fish that occasionally jumped from the water. It was one of the many vantage points from which to explore Palmetto Bluff and my personal favorite. A close second was by bike, which was available to rent upon arrival. We kept our group of twelve bikes in the driveway for our stay—a family peloton.

As if daring us to be bored, Palmetto Bluff offered more activities and adventures than we could experience in five days. Little did Palmetto Bluff know that boredom was a welcome treat for me. However, Palmetto Bluff was a playground waiting to be explored and conquered for the kids.

My stepdad played pickleball against every grandchild. One morning, we scoured the marshlands by boat. Later, the kids went tubing at breakneck speed on the placid water, their high-pitched squeals trailing behind them.

On another day, our crew tried our luck at clay pigeon shooting, an activity that captured the imagination of the 11-year-old and the 77-year-old alike.

We were hard-pressed to find downtime between the adult pool, the kid’s pool, the s’mores pits, the treehouses, tennis, bowling, and archery. Yet, we did, in the form of reading on the porch or cocktails at the nearby River House. Taking long walks through the village lanes and along the piers that jutted out over the May River. We found time. Or, maybe time found us.

Sounds of simpler times

It was a trip that harkened back to simpler times. I certainly couldn’t have been fully aware then that this trip would provide memories for me to pull out of my mind’s archives when I needed a lift in mood. The homespun village undertones were sewn into the landscape of Palmetto Bluff.

I remember us poking fun at the low snore of my stepfather as he dozed on the porch each afternoon. And I can still hear the banter of siblings and cousins as they created TikToks in the living room. I listened to the sounds of my son and nephew peeling down the street on their bikes.

I heard laughter from the kitchen, the pop of a wine cork, and the telltale pings and pongs of a backyard tournament. When added up, all of these unremarkable sounds told a much more remarkable story.

They were the sounds of memories being made, and it was novel to listen to them without life’s usual distractions.

And that is how you experience the Low Country, y’all.

Ready to head to the Lowcountry? Check For Availability Here!

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February 8, 2023
Uganda, what to see beyond the famous silverback gorillas

What to see, where to stay, and what to do, in Uganda / The famous silverback gorillas are certainly what put Uganda on the map for tourism. And rightly so, as it is the only part of the world where one can see these peaceful, majestic primates. There are none in captivity, so in order to spend any time with them, one must be prepared to travel far. And travel far I did, for a fleeting two hours observing them that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Yes, two hours. Each gorilla permit afforded me exactly sixty minutes with the silverbacks. So, what is there to do with the other 23 hours of the day? A lot, it turns out. Uganda has much more to offer tourists than the mighty silverbacks.

But there is far more to see in Uganda beyond the silverback gorillas. There are traditional safaris to admire the famous climbing lions of Ishasha, for example. Or, sighting the elusive shoebill in the Mabamba Swamp. A boat ride to an island of rehabilitated chimpanzees in Lake Victoria.

What to do in Uganda: A Wild Frontiers Safari

Wild Frontiers was our tour operator, the frontrunner for gorilla tracking and safaris in Uganda. They helped us come up with a bespoke itinerary, secured our coveted gorilla tracking permits, and allowed for some flexibility on the ground. Flights, logistics, and accommodations were well organized and generally worked like clockwork. This is Africa, after all.

Our guides, lovely, warm-hearted locals, had studied for years to be able to tell the difference between the sound of a great blue turaco and a green-breasted pitta. Or, to be able to spot an African fish eagle from a kilometer away. They could drive for hours on end and still have the energy the next morning to prepare a pop-up omelet station on the plains.

We were in constant awe of the Ugandan guides and their wealth of knowledge about the wildlife, flora, and fauna, of their country.

What to see in Uganda: Equatorial Entebbe

Uganda is a landlocked country in eastern Africa. The small city of Entebbe, about 20 miles from the bustling capital of Kampala, is where Uganda’s only international airport resides. Entebbe sits on a peninsula on the northern shore of Uganda’s largest lake, Lake Victoria.

We crossed the lake, and directly through the equator, within three hours of arrival, on the way to visit the Ngamba Island Chimpanzee Sanctuary. The lake seemed angry, and our little boat was tossed around violently for nearly an hour. Spray came at us from every angle, the boat pounded the waves. My eyes remained firmly shut to keep nausea at bay. Uganda—unpredictable from the start.

What to see in Uganda: Hungry, howling chimps

We arrived at the sanctuary, bedraggled, and soaking wet, and set off to see the 49 orphaned chimpanzees who roam the 40-acre island. That’s in comparison to the single acre allotted to the humans who work there and rehabilitate them. The chimps come to the barrier four times a day for food, and then slowly slink back into the overgrowth until the next feeding.

Although the feeding ritual was exciting, we were glad we didn’t plan it after our gorilla tracking later that week, as it seemed a much more commercial endeavor. We were happy to see that the orphaned chimps were well cared for, in a safe environment, and had access to medical attention should they need it.

Where to stay in Uganda: Hotel No. 5

Our boutique hotel, called No. 5, was hidden in a local neighborhood less than a ten-minute drive from the airport. Here, I was to spend two nights before heading off on my own to Queen Elizabeth National Park. From there, I was to meet up with my friend at our lodging in the Bwindi Impenetrable National Park to start tracking the gorillas.

Each of the ten rooms at No. 5 faced a lush, intimate, courtyard, with overgrown tropical trees and plants. There was a charming pool set below the veranda where we would have meals and pre-dinner drinks while listening to the ongoing birdsong.

The rooms were modest, clean, and airy—the gauzy mosquito netting over the beds seemed more for show than necessity but did look quite pretty. Small balconies were a nice touch, a place to sit and listen to the hum of the surroundings. In the early morning, I heard the daily call to prayer as I drifted dreamily in and out of sleep.

Although the menus and meals were very nice at No. 5, they were surprisingly formal, a bit too heavy, and geared toward foreigners. This became a slightly disappointing theme at the various lodges we stayed at, and if I were to do it again, I would ask for more local Ugandan preparations as menu options.

What to see in Uganda: The Mabamba Swamp

While my friend worked for the few days we were in Entebbe, I took advantage of being alone with a guide and my camera. Wild Frontiers helped organize a boat trip through the wetlands of Mabamba. There, I spontaneously turned into a full-fledged bird geek. Don’t judge.

I saw statuesque egrets, metallic blue malachite kingfishers, and weightless African jacanas, to name a few aviary stand-outs.

The jacanas are often referred to as Jesus birds for the way they appear to walk on water. They have a uniquely evolved prenatal care system, and can often carry multiple babies under their wings at once. I was lucky enough to capture this maternal moment in real-time.

What to see in Uganda: The most famous bird you’ve never heard of

The prehistoric-looking shoebill, named for its big, clunky bill, is endangered, and numbers only twelve total across the entire 2500-hectare swamp.

Having never heard of the shoebill, I wasn’t too bothered about finding it, but as beginners luck would have it, we saw one within the first ten minutes of the four-hour boat ride. Even my guide was thrilled to see this elusive and reclusive specimen and reached for his own camera to capture it among the reedy, wetland grasses. I was told it is one of the top five most sought-after birds to spot in Africa. Bucket list bird: check.

The Prettiest, Ugly Bird

A few fun facts about a bird you also may have never heard of: shoebills can grow as tall as four or five feet when fully grown; they lay only two eggs, and after a year, kill the weaker one; they can remain motionless for extended periods of time stalking their prey. The idiom, ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ came to mind as I thought it was, perhaps, the prettiest, ugly bird I had ever seen.

What to do in Uganda: Get local

Instead of driving back to Entebbe from the wetlands, my guide suggested we take a car ferry across Lake Victoria. Flashbacks to yesterday’s tumultuous journey stirred in my mind, but in the name of adventure, I decided to go for it. Lake Victoria, thankfully, was much calmer, and I was able to cross with my internal organs completely intact.

On the way to the ferry, I caught glimpses of rural Ugandan life: little girls danced in open wooden doorframes flaked with colorful paint; women peeled green bananas for makote (cooked plantains), toddlers shaved sugar cane with pangas (machetes). Mopeds kicked up clouds of red dust along the unpaved roads. Vegetable stands, roaming goats, pigs on leashes, women with bushels of fruit on their heads—an evolving portrait of village life.

While waiting at the Nakiwogo ferry dock, I was swarmed by fresh-faced and bright-eyed Ugandan kids. We took a few selfies, and they laughed at seeing themselves on screen. Teens played soccer with empty soda cans, dogs chased their own tails, and mothers fed infants while chatting with friends. That time was a gift. Quietly, I observed the villagers and thought to myself how I’d forgotten how often the simplest things in life are the best.

Where to eat in Uganda: Two Friends

Local knowledge, as they say, trumps all, which is how we found Two Friends, a restaurant situated squarely on the banks of Lake Victoria. With a convivial, remote, rustic island vibe, dangling strings of twinkling tea lights, and a menu of freshly caught Lake Victorian fish, Two Friends was a hidden gem.

Our fish came baked in green banana leaves, served in tin foil, with all of the savory juices to mop up with the rice and veggies. The meal for three, (actually four, as we sent our idling taxi driver his meal, too) and a bottle of wine came to the economical total of $60 USD. It was one of the best meals of the trip, made most memorable by its laid-back and carefree atmosphere.

Solo travels

The next morning, I boarded a bush plane at Entebbe Airport and flew two hours to the Kihihi Airstrip located just outside of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Having never traveled solo before, I was both exhilarated and anxious. Moments after touching down, I met my guide Echy, and any fears I had dissipated. I was reminded of a Ted Talk by Ken Robinson, who advised, ‘Walk towards things that worry you.’ I started to walk.

The safari begins

On our first game drive, late that afternoon, Echy discovered a tree with a flock of gray-crowned cranes perched upon it. One by one, these magnificent birds flew effortlessly across the savannah, over the acacia and fig trees, and towards the descending sun.

Also known as the crested crane, it is the national bird of Uganda, and its likeness sits proudly on its flag. Due, in part, to poaching, it is now sadly on the endangered species list and numbers less than 20,000 in the country.

This majestic bird is distinguished by its head of rigid, golden feathers that look like the crown for which it is named. A large, fire-engine red throat pouch makes it especially easy to recognize.

Where to stay in Uganda: Ishasha Wilderness Camp

Remembering how much I had loved tent life while in Botswana a few years ago, I was excited to get to Ishasha Wilderness Camp, which is located inside Queen Elizabeth National Park, along the Ntungwe River.

The ten permanent canvas tents are rustic, yet have everything needed to enjoy wilderness life. Each tent had a wide, stone, porch with two chairs facing the lazy river.

The porch felt like a front-row IMAX theater seat for BBC’s Blue Planet. A few meandering and thirsty elephants drank from the river just a few hundred yards away. A troop of cheeky vervet monkeys ran circles around my tent, both skittish and curious at the same time, scooping up their rebellious babies in an all too human-like way.

The large, thatched-roof common area was ambient, and open-air, to the river. Here, even more, elephants came to share an afternoon sundowner with us.

It was also where we had our meals. Being solo, I was paired with another lone traveler named Matthew—a charming headmaster from Botswana and an avid birder. Matthew became my safari partner-in-exploration for the following two days.

‘You won’t believe what I saw!’

One of the best parts of being on safari is coming back to the lodge after a game drive to compare sightings and photos with other guests.

Our camp had a magnetic board so we could place markers where we had seen various wildlife each day. Depending upon who you were comparing notes with that evening, the stories sometimes became a game of oneupmanship.

What to see in Uganda: Ishasha

At Ishasha Wilderness Camp, as opposed to No. 5, the mosquito netting was less for show, and more out of need. Yet, as a point of comparison, I have been bitten by more mosquitos while walking my dogs in DC than in my entire ten days in Uganda.

As is typical at safari camps, I was not allowed to wander back to my tent unsupervised, as the animals roam freely. No argument here. But the loveliest sounds were at night when the animals were awake, and I was tucked warmly under the covers listening to the chorus of wildlife. It was truly a shame when I finally dozed off, as hard as I tried not to, leaving the animal world behind until the morning.

What to see in Uganda: Tree-Climbing lions

Queen Elizabeth National Park’s claim to fame is the tree-climbing lion. They are an unusual phenomenon, as lions are not adapted evolutionarily to scale trees, like leopards, for instance. Queen Elizabeth National Park is one of only two places in the world where these rare lions can be found, the other being southern Tanzania. It is widely thought that the reason for their climbing is to escape not only the pesky flies but the severe temperatures.

While lucky enough to spot a few of the beautiful lions, they simply refused to do any of their famed climbing. Content, we watched them lazing on the ground. The male lions of Ishasha are notably dark-maned, making them look even more magnificent and regal.

What to do in Uganda: Sundowner on the plains

There is nothing quite like sunset drinks on safari. After hours of being in a vehicle, bumping along dirt paths, it is a chance to embrace stillness and absorb the surrounding sounds. We spent an hour on the edge of a steep rift, overlooking the lush yellow and green valley below. Gin and tonic in hand, I was in my happy place.

In the distance, elephants roamed, their trunks raised to grab leaves from the trees. Kobs glistened, golden and glorious, in the light. The sun tightened its grip on the landscape, wringing out the last rays of light, and casting vivid colors across the valley.

As if on cue, the sun hovered behind a spindly tree, which created an eerie, stark silhouette against the blood-red sky.

Always expect the unexpected

Every game drive is unique, which is likely why guides never get bored with their jobs. The morning I was to leave Ishasha to meet my friend in Bwindi, was one of those unexpected experiences I should have expected.

The drive was two hours, including 45 minutes to exit the boundary of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Five minutes or so into our journey, Echy jerked the jeep to a screeching halt. I did a quick scan, there was nothing to see, no animals, no movement.

He reversed five yards, and off to the right of the jeep, camouflaged in the tall wispy grass, was a martial eagle sitting on the ground, completely still. Echy whispered to us that the eagle was strangling its prey.

We sat silently. The eagle’s intense, beady, yellow eyes pierced through us like daggers. He was certainly not going to give up his catch on our part. A few minutes later, he flew off to a nearby dead tree to keep watch and protect his kill.

A dead baby kob, (antelope), curled up in a fetal position, lay in his wake. The kob had likely been sleeping while its mom went out to find food, but was discovered by the hungry eagle. A sad, yet realistic portrait, of the animal kingdom. How Echy spotted the eagle while cruising along at 30 mph mystifies me to this day.

Final Notes

I was giddy from the sighting, my first ever real-time kill, so I didn’t notice Echy speaking to the driver of a passing jeep. The other driver mentioned seeing two hyenas out hunting but had unfortunately lost the trail.

Using what can only be described as ‘Spidey-sense’, Echy looked to the distant sky, saw vultures circling, and had a hunch. He threw the jeep into gear, and lo and behold, quickly found the two hyenas devouring their freshly caught prey—another poor kob.

The scene was spellbinding; the light, luminous, and the pond, seafoam blue. The kob was bloody and torn to shreds. We listened to the sound of bones being crushed by the hyena’s unyielding jaws. The vultures tried to close in but were steadily kept at bay. When the hyenas were finished, they knew all too well there would be nothing left.

There is a world of adventure beyond the silverbacks in Uganda. Thank you, Echy, for showing it to me.

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May 7, 2021
5 of the best unforgettable and over-the-top travel experiences

Vacation, as the dictionary states, is ‘an extended period of leisure and recreation, especially one spent away from home or in traveling.’ Most of us are long overdue. So, when that much-needed vacation finally comes, make it an unforgettable travel experience. Read on for some much-needed travel inspiration.

Travel, whether I like to admit it or not, comes with a certain amount of expectation. I might say, “Oh, I’m happy at any beach, as long as I can relax with a book,” or “I don’t care about the hotel room, I’ll be outside most of the day anyway.” Or even, “The service isn’t that important as long as the food is really good.”

But, in reality, I care. A lot.

Relaxing on a beach with soft sand underfoot is lovely, as long as it isn’t facing an off-shore power plant. I would prefer not to stare at a construction site from my hotel room, regardless of how little time I spend in it. And, service does matter, especially when my room key decides not to work at midnight.

Yes, I have expectations. So, what happens when already high expectations are exceeded? When what I already imagine will be great—is even greater? Those unforgettable moments, while few and far between, are the ones I relive time and again. These are my top five.

Over-The-Top Travel Experience 5 / Helicopter Sundowner: Amangiri, Utah

Amangiri is a resort tucked away along the southern border of Utah, where it meets Arizona. As with many Aman properties, Amangiri is small, and a challenge to find, which adds a level of exclusivity that attracts many luxuries, adventure travelers. Their excursions are equally exclusive and unique.

One such excursion presented to us while there, was the chance to watch the sunset over the Utah desert. That’s not terribly unique, one might think. How about watching the sunset, with a bottle of chilled champagne, from the top of an isolated butte, via helicopter? Now that’s more like it.

We spied on the desert from above, the blades of the helicopter sliced the dry air, and made the trip worthwhile from lift-off. The pilot steered us towards Glen Canyon Dam, and then Horseshoe Bend, the iconic shape of the landscape giving credence to its name.

From this vantage point, hovering over the deep canyon, I could see the striations of rock that had formed over millions of years.

We landed on a nearby towering butte, the flat top was an ideal place for the pilot to set up our champagne sundowner.

The terrain was a sea of gold, the rich mesas, and distant buttes picked up the colors from the sun, and the sky dissolved into moody shades of blue. From our aerie, champagne in hand, and no sound aside from the whirling wind, the world stood still.

Despite the high price tag of the excursion, I had no regrets. Even years later, it is one of the most unforgettable travel moments in my memory. And while my husband might disagree, who can put a price tag on that?

Over-The-Top Travel Experience 4 / Sound bath: Blackberry mountain, Tennessee

More than ever, wellness activities have emerged as daily essentials. Whether a 10-minute morning meditation, a mid-day walk, or a late afternoon restorative yoga session, wellness is more mainstream than ever.

In the past, I had tried a few sound bath experiences from my phone, mainly to help me relax before bed. I was curious to try one in person. So when a girlfriend and I decided to take a trip to Blackberry Mountain, we signed up right away.

Our instructor’s voice had a lulling cadence. He introduced us to the practice of sound bathing, which has nothing, incidentally, to do with bathing, or water. The room had high ceilings, and was drenched in creamy, warm light. He was surrounded by a multitude of instruments; gongs, rainmakers, and chimes, among them. A lovely setting in which to spend the next 90 minutes.

Six of us formed a wide semi-circle on the floor and draped ourselves in soft blankets. The instructor then placed a lightly scented lavender cloth over our eyes. Just five minutes in, and I thought that this was already exceeding my expectations.

The senses in my body awakened, and I melted into the sounds. The gongs overlapped the chimes. The chimes overlapped the rainmaker, which sounded like waves crashing onto a beach. First softly, then gaining power, before receding again. I fell asleep, I think. Then awoke to tuning forks in G major, chants, and quite a few unnameable sounds. The vibrations of those sounds lifted and settled within me, as I drifted in and out of a dream-like state.

Towards the end of the sound bath, the group was asked to slowly sit up. I reluctantly followed orders. The gauzy roller shades had been raised, the curtains drawn—had I even noticed them earlier?

I found myself facing purple mountains— the start of sunset. The ridge was razor sharp, and pink and orange hues were just beginning to appear behind it. I smiled. Then I wondered when I could do the whole thing all over again. One reason, of many, to return to Blackberry Mountain.

Over-The-Top Travel Experience 3 / Berber Tea ceremony: Atlas Mountains, Morocco

An hour’s drive, and yet a thousand miles away from bustling Marrakech, are the mesmerizing Atlas Mountains. We were on our way to Kasbah Bab Ourika, a rustic oasis nestled gently in the mountains.

A holiday at a kasbah feels intimate and secluded, the only sounds coming from the birds whizzing overhead, and the light rustling of leaves. Meals are served al fresco, with miles of the scenic landscape at which to gaze. While we were hard-pressed to leave the grounds, we knew the mountains had much to offer in the way of adventure.

One misty morning, we set out on a two-hour guided trek toward a Berber village. The Berbers, an ethnic group native to Northern Africa, have a history that dates back to medieval times. The language and culture of the Berbers are still thriving in many parts of Morocco, specifically in the Atlas Mountains.

En route to the village, we passed a herd of woolly sheep and abandoned homes overrun with fields of yellow wildflowers. There were no roads, only donkey tracks, and the occasional moped.

Our guide brought us to a village home where we were taught the ceremonial process of making Berber mint tea.

The matriarch of the family showed us her technique, which involved a series of constant pouring and re-pouring. First, she placed the tea leaves into the pot and added boiling water. She swirled to warm the pot, and then rinsed the tea leaves. Next, she strained the water, reserving only the leaves.

She then added more hot water and allowed it to steep for a few minutes while we chatted—our guide acting as translator. Lastly, sprigs of mint, and a touch of sugar, were added to the teapot. We were honored and humbled by the chance to take part in a small piece of traditional Berber life. I will likely never have a mint tea experience that compares.

Over-The-Top Travel Experience 2 / Hammam Spa: The Royal Mansour, Morocco

A hammam, or Turkish bath, is a centuries-old, traditional, Arabic cleansing and bathing ritual. Modern variations of hammam can be found at hotels, resorts, and spas throughout Northern Africa and the Middle East.

Meant to boost the immune system, a hammam treatment uses hot steam to dilate blood vessels, and increase circulation throughout the body. Pores are opened, toxins are released, and the body is immediately refreshed. This sounded intriguing, and unlike any therapeutic treatment, I’d had in the past.

I decided to visit the spa at The Royal Mansour Hotel, in Marrakech, to experience the hammam. I was told that their interpretation of it was one of the best in the city. Marrakech was aglow with high-density, prismatic, and outrageous color, but the spa at the Royal Mansour was decidedly the total absence of it.

I opened the oversized spa door and entered a world of polar white—a jarring contrast from the green gardens I had just left behind. Vaulted cathedral ceilings, a fountain overflowing with white roses, and pale, pastel couches—all within a room of white, wrought iron, latticework. It was ethereal.

Following a short respite on a daybed in the spa’s waiting area, I was summoned by the therapist. She asked me to lie down upon a hot stone platform in a cavernous, marbled, and windowless room. I happily obliged, and put my 21st-century cares behind me, relishing this 8th-century bathing ritual.

A fragrant steam surrounded me, as the therapist scrubbed off layers of unwanted skin with a special black soap, and an abrasive Kessa mitt. It was harsh, and made my eyes water, but was surprisingly invigorating.

Next, she gently poured, and then shockingly threw, warm water across my body, waking me up in an admittedly unexpected way. She proceeded with a full body massage, using therapeutic oils, in an array of intriguing scents.

Lastly, I was escorted to one last room. Bright light streamed through the window towards an inviting, private, plunge pool. Much to my immediate dismay, I discovered it was actually an ice bath. She asked me to immerse myself in the frigid water. While I was initially reluctant, I knew this eye-popping part of the treatment was meant to invigorate my skin, which after 90 minutes of pampering, felt as silky as a newborn baby’s.

Hammam is an experience that is likely not everyone’s cup of tea, given its unconventionality. For me, however, it was all a part of the African adventure. No regrets, Marrakech.

Over-The-Top Travel Experience 1 / Dinner on the Delta, Botswana

There are few places in my travels that have moved me as much as Africa. I am a wildlife junkie and love any opportunity to see animals in the wild. It is no surprise that Africa, and Botswana in particular, would take up such significant space in my travel memories.

After three days of game drives along the Okavango Delta, we thought we had seen it all. Lions, leopards, hippos, and elephants, filled our days and invaded our dreams.

At the end of our last day in Botswana, Foster, our gentle and soft-spoken guide, took us back to our camp so that we could change for dinner. As we climbed out of the dust-covered Land Rover, our safari-weary bodies in need of a hot shower, Foster told us he had one last thing to show us.

My interest was piqued, but my body was shattered. In keeping with my ‘no regrets’ attitude, I climbed back into the Rover and rallied. We bumped along the bush for twenty minutes or so, getting farther and farther from camp, (and a hot shower). The sun was just starting to descend.

We curved around a thicket of trees, startling a few baboons along the way when I spotted something unusual. Not more wildlife, something entirely unexpected.

Miles from civilization, miles from our camp, in the middle of the African bush, was a full-blown, pop-up dinner. A top-shelf bar was created around an ancient tree. A roaring bonfire mimicked the palette of the setting sun and was surrounded by chairs and blankets. A communal dining table set for twenty, and a lantern-lit pathway towards a fully functioning bathroom.

Dinner was being prepared by cooks over open fires, and multiple mouth-watering aromas wafted through the air. I fleetingly wondered if the lions would find the smells as enticing as I did. We were awestruck.

The entire staff of our tent camp, plus the other guests, were treated to a fully-catered dinner in the bush. We sat for hours, eating and drinking, sharing and comparing stories of the day. We replayed our magical moments in the delta.

The low trumpets of elephants, and snorting grunts of hippos in the distance, were the musical soundtrack. With no one manning the camp, I wondered if the cheeky, resident, vervet monkeys were having a party. Botswana—I hadn’t even left, but I was already missing it.

Experience matters

We live in a world of bells, beeps, whistles, tones, and chimes—mostly coming from phones and screens. Our lives are filled with constant noise which interferes with our ability to relax and have calm.

The sounds from these five experiences; the chimes of the sound bath, the wind whistling past us on a remote butte, and the trumpeting of distant elephants, were the antithesis of my normal cacophony. I embraced the sounds of these once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Unforgettable.

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Find your next over-the-top travel experience:

Take a lap of luxurious Lake Como, or just soak up the sun, in Italy.

Tackle the Tetons of Wyoming this summer, with Amangani as your base.

Set your sails on Croatia, and the Dalmatian Coast, by private charter.

March 9, 2021
Discover Why Esperanza is the Family Escape You Need

The resort we chose for spring break, not surprisingly, needed to be family-friendly. There is a difference, however, between family-friendly and completely geared toward kids. Striking that balance is never easy, many places have good intentions but fail. Esperanza, in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, had been recommended to me over the years, so we went for it.

It managed to combine all the touches that would make my husband and me happy: the gorgeous views, great food, and thoughtful service, as well as all the things our kids would want. When we booked, we had no idea what would happen in the world just a few months later, but we pushed forward and ended up with a (different kind of) trip to remember.

A Day Like Any Other

It’s March 11th. The president has just announced that all US nationals must return from Europe. There is panic overseas as Americans scramble to get home within two days. There is panic at airports and at universities where students study abroad. There is panic everywhere, it seems. I panic, too.

That evening, my husband and I went back and forth about whether we stay home or go away as planned to Mexico. It’s our kid’s spring break, that coveted two-week bridge between winter and spring, cold and hot. We agree—we will go. An hour later, we agree again—we should stay. The next morning, we agree one more time—let’s just go. Rarely are our views so aligned! Yet, it was far from comforting.

We are aware that this might be our last vacation for a while. We grasp that we are on the cusp of something big. We know our family would benefit from time away, together, and outside of the escalating chaos. We realize that if we go, things will look much different when we return.

We organize ourselves. We prepare to turn around upon touchdown, or, to stay indefinitely, and pack accordingly. Six bottles of Theraflu, five canisters of disinfectant wipes, and three hand pumps of Purell. Is that enough? Are we really going? What did we agree upon again?

It’s March 14th. Lift off.

Touch Down

When we landed in Cabo San Lucas, we were keenly aware that this vacation would be unlike any other. A telling sign was that our plane, normally booked solid at this time of year, boarded only 30 passengers. Social distancing, a term swiftly creeping into everyday vernacular, was not an issue.

The days ahead would be inherently more reflective and heavier with the uncertainty of the future. I knew this trip would be inked in my memory, and not for the usual reasons.

Esperanza

Often, I write about the overall feel of a destination, the gestalt—to use a theory that would make my art history professor proud. My brain simplifies and organizes ideas in a way that is more user-friendly, and more interesting to read. For instance, describing the way the bedsheets felt, or what combination of spices were in that delicious tortilla soup. How, and if, the resort organically settled into its surroundings. Details that prove to be big and important in the world of inspirational travel. Details that make for pretty sound bites.

Esperanza, as anyone can see from photos, is a stunning property that sits upon a jagged cliff above the Sea of Cortez. There is much I can say about the beauty, both natural, and man-made, of this Auberge-owned hotel.

I am going to focus more on the feelings that made our time in Mexico worthwhile, to illustrate the emotive piece of the trip. And, I’m going to write about whales.

Rituals

The main restaurant at Esperanza, Cocina del Mar, is an aerie—as easily suited to hawks as humans, perched high above a small beach. On the way to breakfast each morning, the kids raced to the circular landing at its entrance to glimpse the daily sand drawing. Along the way, we all tried to guess what it might be—a crab, sailboat, and shell. Why this part of the day became such a highlight amused me. I think the idea of a happy surprise was needed, no matter how small.

I naturally fell into a daily ritual of my own. First, I ordered a wellness shot of turmeric root, lime juice, pineapple, and ginger. I didn’t actually enjoy its robust taste or its jarring school bus color, but I wistfully imagined its medicinal value could keep a virus at bay.

What’s Newsworthy?

Next, I read the news, a 15-minute self-imposed maximum, as it made my heart race and my skin heat up. Wasn’t I here partly to escape the news cycle—which was inconsistent, filled with misinformation, and designed to terrify?

Lastly, I looked at the sea, training my vision for the tell-tale puffs of air that signaled a whale’s presence. Some mornings, they popped through the surface like champagne corks on New Year’s Eve, and other days, they were more elusive. This morning routine settled me, and the whale spotting became another highlight of my day. It gave me restorative moments of calm. By the second breakfast, the waiters knew my order, where I liked to be seated, and had a pair of binoculars on standby.

During our week at Esperanza, the world outlook became bleaker, the news became direr. I woke up each day, wondering if this was going to be the last, that we would have to pack up and go. I relied upon the whales to ground my spinning thoughts.

Color and light

The color palette of Esperanza mimicked the landscape. Pale blue, inky blue, beige, and foamy white—naturally soothing colors. Rolling waves edged up, and then crashed below, the rocky promontory where I sat, showing off as if they were a slo-mo video capture for the latest iPhone commercial. Who knew how deafening the sound of the sea could be until you had all the time in the world to listen?

The light was so pretty it appeared to stick to the obsidian-textured rocks. Several hundred wet, black crabs moved as one over them, giving the impression that the rocks were fluid, rather than solid. The gestalt theory again, is the principle of ‘common fate’—that our brains will lump together individual things that move in a similar direction as a group, and consider it one stimulus. It’s pretty clear I had too much time alone with my thoughts at this point, isn’t it?

Animal Kingdom

I watched the cast of crabs (yes, that is the technical term, I just googled it) scuttle as a unit, and immediately felt my blood pressure plummet. Why don’t I watch the Discovery Channel more often, I chided myself. It’s cheaper than therapy! Wildlife viewing—an organic cure-all.

A pair of iguanas played peek-a-boo around the desert-like boulders near the pool. I gathered they were the resident reptiles, and for many days spied them searching for whales with me.

Little Kindnesses

It was clear early on that the resort was overstaffed, having prepared for the normal onslaught of families worldwide to fill their swimming pools, belly up to their bars, and keep the tennis pros on their toes. The resort, a mix of haciendas, suites, villas, and casitas, looked to be at about 40% capacity when we arrived. When we departed, I sensed there were only about 40 guests left.

Waiters glided about the palm-thatched and open-air restaurants, never forgetting an extra wedge of lime for a beer or the preference for soy milk over cow. This was made only slightly easier to remember by the unfortunate fact that the staff outnumbered the guests. At Esperanza, however, attentive service was par for the course, served daily with warm, engaging smiles.

I was impressed by the above-and-beyond kindnesses, the silent and unsaid courtesies that were extended to everyone, by everyone, all of the time. It was as if the waiters, pool staff, and groundskeepers all knew that something was changing and that it may be a while before they returned to any sense of normalcy. They were right.

Images

I can’t say we didn’t fully take advantage of the bubble we found ourselves in that week. Our family bonded in a different way than usual. We were very together, a precursor for the weeks of togetherness ahead.

My son and husband went on a few long desert runs, harassing skittish rabbits along the way. The kids rode waves with local surf instructors. I spent hours coloring with fine-tipped sharpies on the balcony—my current obsession, while the kids made Tik Toks—their current obsession. All of us tore through novels, having brought stacks from home.

The Intrinsic Beauty of Esperanza

I relished any moment that got me past recurring doomsday thoughts. The lulling beach hammock, the statuesque iguanas, the pool waiters who wore pins that cheerfully cried, ‘Yes way, rosé!’. The serendipitous moment I photographed a fisherman just as he reeled in his catch and the way he proudly held up his prize. The prismatic sunsets each night belied the dark state of the world. Those six nights stretched into forever.

The intrinsic beauty of Esperanza was seen, and felt, inside and out. The 17 acres of lush, well-kept gardens, and grounds, are complete with a lovely koi pond, and interesting kid-centric activities like bocce and life-sized chess. The intimate spa is an oasis within the oasis. The nightly bonfire on the balcony of the main entry—all contributed to that escape from reality we were seeking.

Whales

On the day that would become our last full day in Mexico, we spent a few hours at sea searching for whales. The boat picked us up from the pier, and we leisurely motored past the intsa-ready Arch of Cabo San Lucas. This natural rock formation, teetering on the brink of collapse, is located at the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula. Normally overrun with tourist boats competing for pole position, we nearly had it to ourselves.

Our captain was, not surprisingly, well versed in all things whale and had a keen eye for spotting them, even from incalculable distances. Yet, as prepared as we were to see what we came for, witnessing the slow-motion corkscrew movement of a breaching whale is nothing short of heart-stopping. Even the biggest grumps in our group (ahem, Chase and Ella) were without words, maybe for the first time. The whales’ powerful and muscular bodies were awesome; their tails slapped the water like pancakes being flipped by a short-order cook.

Seconds later, as if the universe was trying to tell me, ‘You’ve seen all there is to see here, don’t push your luck.’ a burst of texts from well-meaning friends alerted us of the recent world developments. ‘The US borders are closing’, they wrote — ‘when are you coming back?’

Our time was up.

Closure

We had managed six nights in Cabo San Lucas, and every one of them was a bonus in my eyes. I sat at breakfast, wellness shot in hand, that last morning. If Esperanza does any one thing to perfection, it is dining, where even the indoor seating feels like outdoor seating. And the views were transporting, regardless of the time of day.

Throughout the week, I noticed the guests that had canceled their trips by their absence on the neatly spaced pool loungers. (Loungers that would have been annoyingly spoken for by 7am each morning.) I noticed the lack of ambient noise and family chatter in the empty seats of the restaurants. It was a poignant, quiet, self-reflecting spring break. Not exactly what we had in mind when we booked all those months ago, but lovely in many ways, nonetheless.

My mind filled in those gaps. Another principle of gestalt—is closure. In design, closure refers to how the brain will automatically fill in any missing pieces of an image to create a whole. What missing pieces will I bring back into my life, and what pieces will I purposely leave out when I get home?

Esperanza will once again fill its pools, bars, and suites. It may be filling up as we speak, as restrictions loosen, and people decide they don’t want to cook, go food shopping, or clean dishes for a few days. The thoughtful, and extremely capable staff, is waiting. So are the whales. I’m hoping that the whales are waiting, too.

Where will you find yourself next? Just Click.

Experience the magical and color-filled Slot Canyons with Amangiri as your base, in Utah.

Stay out west a little longer and head to the Tetons in Jackson.

Need more adventure? Dunton Hot Springs, in Colorado, will complete your western travel trilogy.

June 19, 2020
Cumbria. Many Lakes. One Star.

The Lake District may be England’s best kept secret.

The Lake District, England /

Dungeon Ghyll, Crinkle Crags and Harrison Stickle. No, these aren’t characters from a Harry Potter novel, they are the illustrious names for ravines and peaks in the majestic Lake District of England. Where, if you are American, you won’t see a fellow countryman for days and wonder why this place has seemingly escaped our radar. It is a mere four hour drive from London, which by US standards, is a typical Sunday outing. Some might say, well we have Vermont, or the Finger Lakes, and while those are truly gorgeous lake areas in the US, what we don’t possess are the fairytale hamlets, the tall, spired edifices and the Hobbitt-like thatched rooftop villages that accompany the lakes of Cumbria. Rolling hills, a patched quilt of vivid yellows and lush greens, ancient slate, hand-built stone walls that act as property dividers weaving like a thread throughout the landscape. It is a scene from another era.



Living the fairytale

Our first day in Cumbria started with a leisurely drive to the village of Grasmere, where we lined up for freshly baked squares of gingerbread in the very place that gingerbread was invented back in 1854 by Sarah Nelson. We were far from the only ones waiting patiently at the old stone house where she perfected her recipe (and later kept handwritten in a bank vault) and the spicy sweet combination did not disappoint! The streets we walked were long and winding, the stream banks lined with sheep. We ambled past the eroding tombstone of William Wordsworth and the very daffodil fields that inspired his famous poem.

The remainder of the day was spent driving up and around roads (a generous term!) that are supposed to accommodate two cars but can barely fit one, a virtual game of shark as we held our breath around each curve, praying no one was coming from the other direction. There is no shoulder, no give—in fact only stone walls, so that if you do come face to face with another car, (and you will) someone has to back up indefinitely in order to let the other pass. And here I thought the hiking was going to be the most treacherous part of the trip!

Meandering our way around the snake-like roads that hug the lakes, trying to find the elusive, and unfortunately for us, closed in June, car ferry to take us back to our hotel, we stumbled upon Wray Castle. Best seen from the outside than in, it is a Gothic Revival castle that was built in 1840. The grounds and exterior are beautiful but the inside was never restored to it’s 19c glory and is disappointingly used mainly as an exhibition space and for kid’s events.

The peaks of Cumbria

We were told that there are maybe fifteen days a year of cloudless skies in the Lake District, and we were lucky enough to get them, especially since we had a few days of strenuous hiking ahead. Our past track records for hiking having not been so fortunate, hiking three plus hours to the summit only to see a lovely view of drizzle and fog. My husband told me after our trip that at least three people and a dog were blown to their death off Helvellyn last year due to weather conditions. I’m relieved not to have known that sobering fact earlier. But in our case, the UK weather reported, “another glorious day with spells of unbroken sunshine.” British weather reports are truly inspired.

Orrest Head was a warm-up hike the day before our trek up to Helvellyn, which is the third tallest peak in England. There we saw panoramic views of Windermere Lake and various peaks in the distance. We could just make out a string of sailboats in the distance as we took a seat on a wooden bench and admired the hushed landscape, the immense sky swallowing the sun, the birdsong in the foreground and the baa-ing of sheep in the background. The well-known British fellwalker (well-known mainly in the UK, I’m guessing), Alfred Wainwright, wrote of Orrest Head, ‘…quite suddenly, we emerged from the shadow of the trees and were on a bare headland, and, as though a curtain had dramatically been torn aside, beheld a truly magnificent view…”

Spending time in Crook

We checked into our room at our hotel, The Gilpin, which is located in the fantastically named village of Crook in County Cumbria. The Gilpin is a place of opposites. At first a lovely old historic inn with 26 rooms and a Michelin-starred restaurant, and second, a modern feat of architecture, with separate unique, geometric stand alone rooms made of wood and glass, cedar hot tubs and modern amenities, somehow living together in harmony in this bucolic part of the country. It has been family run for 100 years, and you immediately feel as if you are part of their family.



The communal sitting areas, complete with coffee tables and books, comfy chairs and sofas on which to nap, make you feel as if you are in your own home. There is an inviting and elegant bar, wine room, and a gorgeous garden patio to have pre-dinner drinks and canapés. The owners are always wandering around and happy to chat about your day. The atmosphere is as warm and inviting as you could possibly want.

Our room had a spacious outdoor patio and a two-person round cedar hot tub that was sunken into the deck and somehow always at the perfect temperature. Bamboo and other wildflowers dotted the property, the air was dry and sunny, and it was nearly impossible to drag ourselves to the 60 second walk to dinner that evening.

A star among the lakes

Part of the allure of Gilpin, other than it’s lovely location nestled in the heart of the lakes, was the on-site restaurant HRiSHi, which boasts a Michelin star, among other awards, for it’s executive chef Hrishikesh Desai. Never ones to pass on a chef’s tasting menu (wine-paired!), we put ourselves in the chef’s hands for the night.



As a true nod to the chef’s talent, it was the first time we have ever chosen a vegetarian tasting menu. It was just too good to pass up, even for a carnivore like me. So we split the difference, my husband ordering the Signature Tasting Menu and me ordering the vegetarian option. Highlights were many, too many to count, but if I had to pick, the Lemon Gnocchi with marinated halloumi and wild mushrooms over cépe foam, paired with a delicate Albarino from Rias Baixas, Spain was an instant favorite. That, as well as the Wye Valley Asparagus, with pickled mushrooms and saffron aioli, on toasted almond cream, paired with a lovely white from Puglia, Italy. Each course more decadent and artfully designed than the last. Two plus hours later we trekked the 60 second uphill back to our room, wondering how we were going to manage in the morning.

Tackling Helvellyn

The next day started off with a lovely breakfast in a sun-lit room in the main house before we drove to the base of Helvellyn in Ambleside. I overheard a grandmother, who sounded eerily like Maggie Smith, explaining to her granddaughter, the game of cricket, “Nothing much happens. And it takes about three days to do it. “



It was a gorgeous day and once at the top, we were assured we’d be able to see as far as the Irish Sea. We reached the trailhead via Kirkstone Pass, which was a road with one of the most dramatic views of the Lake District. At that time of day, it was just us and the cyclists, which made the drive even more serene, the lakes seemingly frozen in time and the reflections razor sharp. We parked, and then began our trek along the Hobbit-like countryside, passing wildflowers, sheep, lambs, waterfalls and streams, stone walls that curled along the route like a miniature Great Wall of China, watching the villages recede further into the distance as we gained altitude and took in the drama of it all. Two and half hours of uphill later, we found ourselves scrambling over the jagged rocks and tricky knife edge ridge known on the map as Striding Edge, the place where some have met an untimely death. ‘Striding’ seemed a bit too ambitious a term, as I was on all fours, refusing to look any way but dead ahead, and cursing my husband underneath my breath.

Thankfully there was no wind and conditions were in our favor, but admittedly it was the most exhilarating part of the hike, every sense on high alert to make it at last to the summit at 3,120 feet, passing high above the Red Tarn and looking down into the valleys. Truth be told, the views were worth every gray hair I earned that day. The way down, the hike making a natural loop, was a little more leisurely, apart from the scramble along Swirral Edge, and filled with the most verdant of landscapes. Foxgloves popped out like hot purple pokers from in and around the ancient stone walls. The villages materialized, and civilization and a cold beer were in our immediate sights.

world cup: England v. Belgium

The last night of our time in the Lake District was spent at the casual restaurant at Gilpin, The Spice House, watching England lose to Belgium in a group match during the World Cup. I was assured this loss didn’t matter, which was confirmed as no one seemed particularly upset by it. The Indian menu was a nice contrast to our previous meals and the atmosphere relaxed and casual. We ordered a bottle of Grüner Veltliner and settled in for the match. Being as far north as we were, it amazed me to see light still clinging to the sky at nearly 11pm.

The next day was an early rise and on to the next stop of our European journey. In some ways, I felt like the sole American discoverer of the glorious Lake District. I would encourage anyone to add it to their bucket list of travels while in the UK, as it is a fairy-tale inspired moment in time you will not easily forget. As we headed out of town, one last moment of being wonderstruck by the rolling hills, mountains, valleys, hamlets and mirror-calm lakes, I saw a sign for The Sun Inn and smiled. Maybe I was in a Harry Potter novel after all.

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Five Reasons to get lost:

• Spending time pre-dinner on the patio at the Gilpin and watching mama birds feed their babies under the eaves.
• The hair-raising drives around the lakes, wanting to watch the view but needing to watch the roads!
• Making it to the summit of Helvellyn on a rare sunny day and popping open a well-deserved can of Coke.
• Having warm gingerbread at the birthplace of gingerbread, then roaming the very streets that Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter once walked.
• Hearing phrases like ‘dilly-dally’ and ‘higgledy-piggledy’ used in every day conversation.

Where will you find yourself next?

Consider a short flight from London to Milan and head to Lake Como for a few days.

Live in an ancient 15th c. village in Montenegro while overlooking the Adriatic Sea.

Take on the Medina, and more, in Marrakech.

July 15, 2018
Dunton Hot Springs, A Home away from Home
Dunton Hot Springs is a remote getaway filled with wildlife and hiking adventures, farm-to-table meals, and a western vibe that had us dreaming of simpler times. Dunton Hot Springs—a little escape from reality in the cool, breezy San Juan mountains of Colorado.

Remote, restorative, and secluded, are buzzwords that have always piqued my curiosity when reading about travel, but never as much as they do at this particular moment in time. I long for fresh air and wide-open spaces. I have a pressing need to immerse myself in Mother Nature, or in a cozy room with a blanket, and a heart-pumping page-turner. These travel longings have zoomed, no pun intended, to the top of my bucket list. I crave the creature comforts of home, but somewhere that is anywhere but my home.

Likely, I am not alone in these cravings, or in these wistful dreams of travel. I’d like to sink into a bed made of clouds, without having to make it in the morning. I’d like to feast upon a wholesome, home-cooked meal. Yet, I don’t want to go food shopping, Instacart, or clean dishes, afterward. I’d love to open windows onto a field of wildflowers and hear horses neighing in the distance, rather than the sirens that often pierce the silence of my neighborhood’s otherwise quiet streets.

Hello, Dunton!

Tucked away in the southwest corner of Colorado, along the west fork of the Dolores River, and at nearly 9,000 ft, sits Dunton Hot Springs. My family visited Dunton a few summers ago, and I have been wondering why this particular place, of all places, is calling me back. Maybe it’s because Dunton, quite naturally, delivers on that precise home away from home feeling I am currently craving.

The cluster of rustic log cabins at Dunton Hot Springs felt like a throwback to another era or the set of an old-time western film. A collection of fourteen mining town log cabins of various shapes and sizes dotted the expansive property, some of which had been gently relocated from other parts of Colorado. Its vast1500 acres, flanked by majestic mountains, cool waterfalls, and the serpentine Dolores River, together provided a natural playground for the multitude of activities Dunton offered.

The inherent beauty of Dunton Hot Springs was evident from every angle. Look left—sprawling fields of buttercups stood vibrant and golden against the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Look right—on-property trails led to an ice-cold gushing waterfall that was heard long before it was seen. The air was cleaner and clearer, and all of our senses were as elevated as the mountaintops we looked out upon.

Dining In, and Out

Our first meal was at a weather-beaten picnic table on the deck outside of the saloon, a welcome way to settle in after two flights, and a scenic two-hour drive. A row of hummingbird feeders along the porch swayed gently in the crisp breeze. We watched intently as these tiny, mighty, birds vied for space to feed—buzzing, whirling, and hovering, all at once. Every so often, a larger hummingbird would sharply dart towards a feeder, bumping a smaller one down the line. Bullying—acceptable behavior in the avian world.

It was an amusing sideshow to our hearty, multi-course lunch, an added touch of theater. The food, with a new, locally-sourced menu prepared daily, was to be a big part of our western adventure. We dined on local elk, and roasted vegetables from their farm—the first of many enticing meals we were to enjoy during our stay. Preparation took place in the open-plan kitchen, where guests were encouraged to watch and ask questions while the chef created the day’s feast.

In the evenings, we gathered at the original, old-fashioned bar in the saloon to meet up with the bartender, and critique his latest cocktail. Oversized picture books of architecture, photography, and nature, lay atop a low coffee table for us to peruse. The kids headed outside to climb on a rusted-out tractor-trailer, or play ring toss. A recently lit bonfire soared nearby, sheepskin throws waited on benches for cold shoulders to warm. The scene called for the gooey s’mores we were destined to devour later.

Later, we were seated at a long, communal, wooden farmhouse table, where we would relay the day’s events, or lack thereof, to the other guests. A wagon-wheel light fixture hovered overhead, lights flickering. While some guests told tales of fly fishing, or their hike through the spruce and aspen forests, others had been content to spend the day reading or soaking in the natural hot springs for which the resort is known.

RElaxing at every turn

Likely discovered by the Ute Native Americans, the soothing hot springs are a true focal point and highlight of the property. Resting somewhere between 85 and 106 degrees in temperature, part of the spring is enclosed within a 19th-century bathhouse. Steam rose ethereally towards the vaulted ceilings, and gently fogged the tall glass-framed wall. A low-slung hammock, high-end bath products, and plush towels seemed wholly designed to keep us in a never-ending state of deep relaxation.

The outdoor area of the spring had unobstructed views of the San Juan mountains. Since the bathhouse and springs can be used at any hour of the day, we were able to watch the sky turn from subtle shades of blue to inky black, over the course of the night. Stars blinked hello. It was so silent, I didn’t trust it.

Rooms with a View

The decor of the cabins at Dunton is classic Americana and had homespun touches like flannel blankets, and patterned rugs with hues of rich reds and federal blues. Vintage snowshoes might hang on the wall of one cabin, while framed vintage western movie posters may be on another.

The cabin named Dolores, for instance, boasted an original Rajsthan wedding bed, as well as a large, private viewing deck. The Dunton Store, one of the pet-friendly cabins, had its own private hot spring and a gas stove. Christy’s Tent prided itself on its magnificent view from the oversized shower. The cabins varied in size so that regardless of how many guests were in your group, you were likely to find a great fit.

The Potter House

Since we were traveling with another family to Dunton, we opted for the Potter House, which slept ten people, and was adjacent to a lively beaver pond. The Potter House has five bedrooms and 3.5 baths laid out over three levels, a large kitchen, wraparound decks with 360 views, and all the cozy comforts a log cabin could muster. The fireplace was a welcomed luxury as it took the edge off of the cool, dry June nights.

One morning, we opted out of any formal activities in favor of a ‘day to do nothing’ at our cabin. We called down to the saloon and asked if we could have some essential items brought up to accompany the ‘nothing’ we were planning to accomplish. Within 30 minutes, we had two bottles of rosé, four glasses, and enough chocolate and salty snacks to keep us in place for the afternoon.

As we relaxed into our day, the kids went rogue. They climbed into an old tractor overrun with dandelions near the stables. They played corn hole and volleyball. They ran, they biked, stirred up the hot springs, and swayed in the hammock. It was a detox from our electronically-controlled lives. The old-fashioned setting suited us in a way we could never have imagined.

Do everything or do nothing at all

As tempting as it was to have another day of ‘nothing’, we managed to get out and experience the nature we traveled so far enjoy. We ambled up into the mountains, traversed streams, watched for bears, and eventually stomped through lingering mushy, melting, mountaintop snow. Horseback riding, mountain biking, and rock climbing were available to those of us who wanted a bigger rush of adrenaline. I was happiest in the hot springs, or on the deck, where I watched a mama bird source food for her babies that lived in a nest under the eaves of Potter House. Nature was the main event, and it fed into every moment, big and small.

A Place for all Seasons

It wasn’t very surprising to recently discover that Dunton Hot Springs made Conde Nast’s coveted Gold List this year. A well-deserved accolade for a former sleepy mining town, far removed from civilization, nestled high in the San Juan mountains.

Although we visited Dunton Hot Springs in the summer, it is the kind of place that I imagine offers up a completely unique experience with each season. The landscape lends itself to endless activities and ways to relax. While we usually don’t find ourselves repeating the same trip twice, just this once, I could be tempted. The wide-open spaces are calling.

I think back to that summer at Dunton and the memory snapshots that made it so unforgettable. I can’t help but come back to the buzzwords that drew me there in the first place; remote, restorative, secluded. And the refrain that continues to echo in my mind—a home away from home.

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Five reasons to get lost:
- Coming upon a herd of ‘wild cows’ during our river camp hike.
- Discovering the cocktail of the night at the saloon each evening.
- Watching a hawk, having just caught a snake in its beak, fly gracefully overhead.
- Nightly fire pit complete with all the makings for s’mores.
- Feel like you are living in a ghost town for a few days and being completely unplugged.
June 14, 2017

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