I am Lost and Found

Tag: Views

The Green O Strikes Gold. Montana’s Newest Luxury Retreat.
The green o is Montana’s answer to the latest travel trend: luxury-minded adventure escapes. A place that strikes the right balance of indulgence and adventure, and includes culinary experiences and tasting menus worth traveling for. Follow me to the green o, and read about the newest adults-only luxury retreat in the Montana wilderness.

“Are you sure the Sunset Trail goes through this field?” I ask my husband, warily.

“Trust me”, he replies, unhinging the creaky, metal gate, and ignoring the wooden sign marked: “DO NOT ENTER.” I bite my tongue, then follow.

We’ve been at the green o, Montana’s newest luxury adventure property, for all of two hours. My ‘adventure mindset’ is not yet fully formed. But here I am mountain biking toward a herd of hairy bison. Blind faith semi-firmly placed in my husband’s overly confident orienteering abilities.

Does anyone see the bright red flags waving in the distance? Unfortunately, I don’t.

Survival Skills at the green o, Montana

Daniel speeds past the bison with the grace of Chris Froome in the early stages of the Tour de France. I bumble along, struggling to find my balance. My shoes are too tight and my seat is too high. I can’t quite figure out the gears. I’m already parched.

I stop to take a photo—a thin disguise to catch my breath.

The bison look at me. One snorts loudly, breaking the silence of the pasture. Others chime in. Their collective snorting sounds threatening. They shake their massive wooly heads in utter disbelief, unleashing a flurry of flies.

“City folk”, they must be musing in their pea-sized brains, “Should we give them a free pass just this once?”

I feel judged. And rightly so. Daniel is miles ahead. I’m within 10 feet of these massive beasts and suddenly feel like a mid-morning snack. Daniel contends bison eat grass, not humans. But don’t grizzlies eat fish? Daniel has no comment, naturally.

Take deep breaths, I tell myself. Then channel my inner Soul Cycle warrior and power past them.

Spoiler alert, I survive.

The green o: Fields of Gold and Silver Linings

If the pasture where the Sunset Trail may or may not have cut through was any less captivating, I would have put down my size six sneaker in toddler-like defiance. But I see butter-yellow grasses glow against distant mountains. The bison, while terrifying, dot the field in wispy, chocolate-brown brush strokes.

The scene has all the makings of the 20th-century realist paintings I studied in Art History. A canvas imbued with the mysteriousness of Americana. Fields of gold and weathered farmhouses. An extraordinary sight for my city-centric eyes, and one of many Wyeth-inspired moments I discover at the green o.

So yes, I live to tell the tale. In the way of silver linings, I have more than a few bison portraits to show for it. And no permanent scars. Risk, meet reward.

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Welcome to The Green O

The green o (intentionally lowercase to exude an approachable, casual vibe) is an adults-only property located in the Blackfoot River Valley, in Greenough, Montana. It has 12-stand alone accommodations, each called a ‘haus’. If you are any good at math, you will quickly calculate that the green o has a max capacity of 24 guests.

Each haus accommodation at the green o is made from stunning combinations of wood, glass, and other stylized design elements. The hauses are scattered so haphazardly throughout the pine-laden property that they may well have sprung up from the earth itself. The green o refers to the hauses as romantic ‘glamping’ accommodations. But with eco-kitchens, outdoor hot tubs, and wood-burning fireplaces, they go well beyond any glamorous camping I’ve experienced.

The green o vs Paws Up

Hundreds of pines stand at attention in this small gated enclave on the southern edge of Paws Up near the scenic Blackfoot River. Paws Up Ranch is the sister property of the green o—a family-friendly resort established in 1915 by Paul Greenough. His property encompasses a whopping 37,000 acres of land. Well played, Paul.

Back in the early 1900s, Mr. Greenough, for whom the town and ranch are named, painted his flock of sheep with a large green “O”. A simple mark that was certainly ahead of its time from a corporate branding perspective. Does Oprah know about this? Hence the name of this Montana woodland escape—the green o. A tribute to the founder, rancher, and all-around man about town. Literally.

The relationship between the family-friendly Paws Up and the adults-only green o is decidedly one-sided. Guests of the green o are welcome to use any facilities at Paws Up. But guests of Paws Up are unable to access the restaurant’s tasting menu and common spaces of the green o. This lop-sided relationship adds an air of exclusivity for the 24 oh-so-lucky green o guests.

Finding Gold at the green o

While green is undoubtedly the signature color of the property, I can say without fear of my kids’ ridicule, that I found gold. Well, perhaps some fear. That does sound kind of corny.

I’ll attempt to exhaust the limits of the metaphor. Yellow tamaracks burst brightly from a forest of otherwise green firs, creating a ripple of gold. They shed their short needles so that the paths around the property appear to be paved in gold. A large, gooey golden honeycomb sits atop the bar in the main restaurant ready to be drizzled on my morning granola. Metaphor officially exhausted.

Earning Dinner at the green o

Luxury adventure retreats are popping up around the country at lightning speed. The appeal is clear. Travelers are looking for places that provide interesting combinations of active excursions, indulgence, and unique culinary experiences.

Hotel trends show heightened popularity in places where guests feel they have ‘earned’ that Michelin-worthy meal, multi-course tasting menu, and one-of-a-kind styled lodgings. Or, maybe that’s just me?

‘Earned’ could mean climbing a mountain. Or, taking on the green o’s mile-long Grizzlyman Trail. In our case, earned means outrunning simple-minded wild beasts. It’s a reward to mark a day we pushed beyond our comfort zones.

The green o takes it further by adding on unusual experiences, like an ATV ride to a remote ghost town or fly fishing in the Blackfoot River. A day-long Frontiersman Ride on horseback or participating in an authentic cattle drive. It’s all too easy to see the allure of adventure-inspired trips. Especially ones in remote wilderness locales like Montana.

At the Green O, It’s all about me us you

My husband and I come to the green o to create adventures based on our vacation style. Our trip doesn’t look like anyone else’s. I mean that literally and factually. Since our return, I’ve been stalking the green o and its guest posts on Instagram. Not one reel, story, or little square tile replicates our trip. Yet, they all look equally spectacular.

This is the beauty of the green o—that we can interpret the activities and offerings to reflect our own personal brand of adventure. Like on our first bike ride when Daniel chose to interpret the ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign differently than me. Needless to say, we decide upon a few other activities with slimmer chances of being trampled to death.

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Choose our own adventure

Montana is a new state for both of us. We’d like to get up close and personal with the natural beauty for which it’s so well known. We opt for a six-mile hike through the ominously named Lubrecht Experimental Forest, which we access from a path behind our Tree Haus. I dismiss the irrational fear of being abducted and experimented on by a mad scientist named Lubrecht.

But trails named Grizzlyman, Hunter’s Point, and Anaconda are surely trying to shake my confidence level, which is medium at best. Dictated in part by past hiking adventures gone awry (Exhibit A: Wyoming) and (Exhibit B: England).

Thankfully mountain lions hadn’t been spotted recently around the green o. We are told that the bears are probably hibernating by now. That’s mildly reassuring, I think.

On another day we take a 12-mile bike ride through everchanging scenic terrain. Over burbling streams, and through grassy pastures with snow-covered mountains in the distance. We head up to a rocky lookout and admire the Blackfoot River below. It’s one of my favorite ways to spend a day.

I get to burn hundreds of calories in order to ‘earn’ the Wagyu smash burger waiting for me at the Social Haus. All the while admiring stellar views.

The Green Haus

Our haus, in the middle of the trees

The green o has four different haus accommodation types: the Round Haus, the Tree Haus, the Light Haus, and the Green Haus. All are within striking distance of the Social Haus—the green o’s main (and only) restaurant, which has a different tasting menu each evening.

The Tree Haus

I have my heart firmly set on the Tree Haus. The idea of sleeping among the stars in the wilderness must have awakened some part of my inner child. (My parents are surely wondering whose inner child I am referring to.) I hated camping as a kid and still do.

Maybe I was just waiting for the right kind of Tree Haus? Sleeping 23 feet in the air and seeing the stars blinking brightly between the tall pine silhouettes is ethereal. Even if it is from the second floor of our glass-enclosed heated Tree Haus.

The Round Haus

And, even if the bedsheets are so insanely cushy and cozy that we buy them the moment we arrive home. And that we can order on-demand wood-fired pizzas to that very same bed. This is my kind of camping.

Views Win at the green o

The design of our Tree Haus is inspired. A small glass entryway pops from the ground like a submarine’s periscope and invites us to shed our boots and coats. A floating spiral staircase snakes upwards toward the first-floor landing.

The drama is worth the climb—360-degree views of pine forests from floor-to-ceiling windows.

I stop to take in the space and first notice the modern wood-burning stove neatly tucked in the corner. There is an oversized chair beside it, and I make a mental note to curl up in it with my new Amor Towles novel as soon as possible.

In the freezer, I discover two homemade ice cream sandwiches just waiting for the midnight munchies to surface.
Pine-filled views trump all, which is likely why the green o gave us so many places to admire them. A hanging outdoor chair sways in the breeze on the wraparound outdoor deck. The bedroom balcony is the ideal spot to spy deer traversing the landscape. Even the view from the bathtub windows maximizes the woodland panorama.

The only other place for guests to mingle indoors at the green o is the Social Haus. That is perfectly fine with me, as the only thing that will get me to leave a fabulous room is a fabulous meal.

Getting Social

I’m not a ‘save the best for last’ type of person. I like the best first. So why am I writing about our culinary experience at the green o last?

The answer is simple but wordy.

If the green o had no hikes, no bikes, and no ATVs. No Tree Hauses, Round Hauses, or Green Hauses. If the woodlands were devoid of mountain lions, deer, and hibernating bears. If there were no golden tamaracks, golden pastures, or golden paths of golden needles. I would still go to the green o—for the food.

The Social Haus

I am a self-appointed foodie and travel for food the way others travel for a Broadway show or a music festival. I expect the food at the green o to be spectacular. Incredibly, I get much more than I expect.

Every meal at the green o is included in the price of the room. Craft cocktails and (most) wines are included as well. The culinary talents of Chef Brandon Cunningham are almost impossible for me to describe. But I will try.

3 dinners x 7 courses = 21 courses

The highlight of each evening, without a doubt, is the inventive 7-course tasting menu prepared by Chef Brandon and his faithful team. Seven unique courses each night for our three nights without a single course overlapping. Factor in that every other guest will also not overlap a course during their stay and you can see why this is a Mensa puzzle I’ll never solve.

The Social Haus has a convivial bar where guests can have dinner while watching the chef and his team create culinary magic. I order the Greenough Gimlet, with local Spotted Bear Gin, yuzu, and rosemary.

Daniel has Sudden Smoke, which requires the bartender to light a piece of wood on fire then place the glass upside down to absorb the smoke. It is just this kind of attention to alcoholic detail that makes the cocktail experience another green o adventure.

A dark green leather banquette semi-circles around a large glass-enclosed fire. Daniel and I sit facing it, as do all the guests, which creates an informal dinner party ambiance. Conversation flows, as do healthy pours of wine.

Seeing is believing, at the green o

The execution of Chef Brandon’s culinary creations is better seen than told. And better eaten than seen. One artfully designed course follows another. Like his version of Chinese take-out, complete with the ubiquitous cardboard box and chopsticks. Or, a modernized ham and cheese sandwich.

Meals are prepared with absolute intention and often with the help of tweezers. No detail is overlooked, whether that be the leanest slice of hamachi, the flourish of a matsutake mushroom, or a flowering spiral of avocado upon sourdough toast.

Each night I swear I couldn’t possibly handle another seven courses. But I do. I only wish I could stay longer. If for no other reason than to see if Chef Brandon ever slips up and serves the same course twice.

Lunches and breakfasts are as inventive and mouth-watering. Fried chicken and waffles with golden raisin chutney and coconut syrup; chamomile yogurt panna cotta with fresh berries, honeycomb, and pistachio; and the famous Wagyu smash burger. With its secret sauce, griddled onions, and pepper jack cheese, Daniel says it is the best burger he’s had. Ever.

Add in service with a Midas touch (notice how I continue to flog the metaphor?) and it’s obvious why the food experience at the green o is another star among stars.

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Your green o

What will your green o experience look like? Will you opt for a spa treatment or a leisurely hike? An ATV ride or a horseback ride? Mountain biking or fly fishing? Perhaps a long hot bath followed by a fire and a good book? The combinations are as high-adrenaline or as low-key as you’d like.

It’s worth mentioning a few other perks included in the room rate, which may seem high—until you have your first tasting menu Then you will realize that you are winning, as every single meal is included and is better than the last. Guests are welcome to dine at the restaurant at Paws Up, which I’m sure is lovely, but don’t. There is no reason to leave the Social Haus. Trust me.

The green o includes transportation to and from the airport in a hybrid Lexus. That same Lexus (or one from the on-site fleet) is at our disposal should we want to go off-property. Lastly, we are given a $500 voucher that we can use towards anything not included in the room rate. We used ours for a special bottle from the reserve wine list and a massage.

Gold abounds at the green o, no matter where you look, and no matter what season. I found gold everywhere, but none more noticeably than in the service, the food, and the bucolic setting. The only thing missing from our trip to the green o was more time.

It’s a sign

On our last afternoon, we drive along the road where we started our first bike ride. Just past the spot where the Sunset Trail may or may not have been. About 50 yards away we see a different sign, this one is a tad more informative: ‘DO NOT ENTER ENCLOSURE. THESE ANIMALS ARE DANGEROUS’.

I don’t gloat. But I want to.

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If you ever want to get in touch, ask a question, or discuss a way to partner, please email me at [email protected].
December 7, 2021
Best. Day. Ever. Deplar Farm.

Where to stay in northern Iceland? Deplar Farm is the one /

In Iceland, there are more than 50 different words to describe snow.

In Iceland, the population is so small that there’s an app to make sure you don’t accidentally date your cousin.

In Iceland, they joke, “What do you do if you get lost in an Icelandic forest?” Answer: “Stand up.”

In Iceland, more than half the country believes in elves and trolls.

I am enamored with Iceland, in awe of Deplar Farm, and already wondering when I can go back.

I am tempted not to write this post. To leave Deplar Farm tucked far away in the Troll Peninsula of northern Iceland. Allow it to remain a well-kept secret. Two flights, including a sleepy four-hour layover at a regional airport, and a nearly two-hour road trip, will certainly keep less adventurous souls at bay.

With only 13 rooms, Deplar Farm houses a maximum of 32 guests. There are no other accommodations for miles. So when Deplar Farm is at full capacity, the whole of the Fljót Valley is capped for tourists.

Deplar Farm: At your service

At arrivals in Akureyri, Iceland’s 4th most populated town, we meet Emily, our point person for the next eight days. At Deplar Farm, each family, couple, or group, is assigned a ‘personal experience manager’ for their entire stay. It’s Eleven Experience’s technical term for guide, lifeline, cheerleader, Icelandic guru, and all-around nice person.

There’s nothing that can’t be requested of your experience manager. Whether or not it’s ever been done before is of little concern. “Daniel, do you want to go fat bike riding after the 10am hike and before your 6pm skeet shooting?” “Sure!”. “Do the kids want to head out into the countryside to play a game of laser tag after dinner?” “Without a doubt!”. ‘Jamie, how do you feel about throwing axes?” “Ummmm, is that a joke?” My husband calls Deplar Farm a summer camp for grown-ups.

Sheep in Iceland are allowed, by law, to roam the country. Unfortunately, they devour any newly planted trees. Hence, the joke. I guess Iceland is destined to be barren in favor of satiated grazing flocks.

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‘Up to eleven’: Eleven Experience raises the bar

Eleven Experience, the company behind Deplar Farm, has flipped the script on what luxury travel looks like today. A finely balanced combination of adventure plus understated elegance. The cross-section of high-end service and thoughtful details in a remote setting.

In Deplar Farm’s case, a converted sheep farm on the Troll Peninsula becomes our home away from home. Any fan of the film, Spinal Tap, will remember the reference to taking the volume up to eleven. Going above and beyond, setting the highest bar, is the Eleven Experience.

Farm Hotel, Boutique retreat, or Icelandic lodge?

Deplar Farm opened in 2016 and is set up, first and foremost, as a gorgeous home. Upon arriving, we pass by the cathedral-arched, glass-bookended dining room, with an oversized communal table. A welcoming spot where we will spend convivial farm-to-table meals meeting people from all corners of the globe.

A wall of artfully designed stuffed Icelandic birds would make any ornithological taxidermist swoon. Other lovely seating nooks are scattered around Deplar Farm to enjoy the views, nap, or read a book while drinking tea or coffee, which are always within arm’s length.

At Deplar Farm, the Views rule

Floor-to-ceiling windows are positioned throughout Deplar Farm so that you never need be without a look out towards the mountains, lake, sheep, or slow-moving fog that dramatically comes and goes each day.

There are multiple geothermal springs and an indoor/outdoor pool, my favorite one having a view of the setting sun (albeit at nearly midnight in the summer) and a cleverly designed swim-up bar.

A small, circular plunge pool is nestled into the grass should one want to shock the body after the warm springs. Our kids take turns seeing who can stay in the 34-degree water the longest. I sit nearby with a gin and tonic.

The Viking Spa at Deplar Farm

The small wooden door built into a grassy knoll outside is hobbit-like. Take care not to miss it. The ‘go green’ mentality is top of mind at Deplar Farm. The ever-green rooftop of the lodge is an example. Guests are given reusable water bottles for their stay rather than plastic. In-room fridges are always stocked with ice-cold replacements.

Deplar Farm’s Lucky 13

Each of the beautifully-appointed farmhouse-style rooms is a homespun treasure. Our room, the Grettir, is named after a famous Viking outlaw. It has a fireplace, personal sauna, stand-alone tub, outdoor veranda, and a mini-loft.

I melt into the oversized, puffy bedding each night from a combination of exhaustion, alcohol, and overeating. Our fridge is filled with beer, wine, sodas, and chilled, reusable, water bottles. A Nespresso machine and a wide variety of herbal teas dot the shelves.

Our kids stay in a bunk room on the lower level of Deplar Farm, adjacent to the communal family room. With a flat-screen TV, Apple TV, X-Box, shuffleboard, and an enormous U-shaped couch, the living room is as inviting as any room in our own home.

They spend lazy afternoon hours rolling around on the furniture as if they live here, I think they wish they did. They then roll right into their bunk room to await tomorrow’s adventures.

Deplar Farm’s Family vibe

The strong family vibe among the staff, experience managers, and guides, who I’m told outnumber the guests by 2:1, is tangible. We often find our favorite bartender, Dan, playing ping pong with our son in the game room.

Food and Wine. More Food, and More Wine.

Ivan, the sommelier/host extraordinaire, greets the dining table each night with a cheeky grin and a story about the food and wine we are about to enjoy. Having Garðar Garðarsson, Iceland’s Chef of the Year, create locally-sourced menus each night is my culinary dream come true. The son of vegetable farmers, he effortlessly creates masterpieces for the vegetarians at the table.

No one leaves the table hungry.

On the non-vegetarian front, Arctic Char fished from the neighboring lake, reindeer tartare with locally-foraged mushrooms, and Wolffish are a few highlights that grace the table.

One evening, a Fred Flintstone-sized leg of lamb, slashed off the bone, machete-style, is presented, en masse, on a large, rustic, wooden board. A Michelin-worthy presentation.

Deplar Farm Life

With over 20 hours of sunlight each day, there is never a rush to wake up early for activities. Breakfast is at the civilized time of 9am. Icelandic yogurt called skyr, as well as granola, freshly made loaves of bread, smoked or cured fish, and fresh fruit, were set up on the sideboard.

The lower floor of Deplar Farm is made with comfort and tranquility in mind. The floor-to-ceiling windows that define the upper floor are here as well. There is a yoga room, meditation room, gym, and massage room. There are also two sensory deprivation Isopod float tanks for those who want to relax in a less conventional way. A sauna, steam room, and indoor/outdoor geothermal pools round out the space.

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Colors of Iceland

The magic of Iceland is palpable. Rich, muted colors cover the vistas—layers of green hues overlapping one another. Icelandic horses, braying sheep, and the occasional house that looks painted into the hills.

The sun set around midnight, although in truth, it never looked fully set. Having natural light for so long each day makes for non-stop adventure followed by non-stop relaxation. I never feel that I am running out of time to do either one well.

Farm, hotel, or disco? Deplar Farm is all of the above.

Dinner is called for 8pm, but we generally don’t make it to the table until 9pm. It’s just too much fun hanging around the classic bar, playing ping pong and foosball. The professional band set-up and the sound system on a loft above the bar are an inspired amenity.

Eight days at Deplar Farm

At Deplar Farm, just about everything is included in the room price: food, drinks, off-property picnics, whale watching, yoga, skeet shooting, biking, hiking, and local village visits, are some highlights. All but a few excursions cost extra.

Having eight days at Deplar Farm gives us the advantage of being able to do almost everything summer on the Troll Peninsula of Northern Iceland had to offer. It gives our experience manager the chance to maximize our time and rearrange our activities as needed.

An adventure (or two) a day at Deplar Farm

There are endless adventures available at Deplar Farm and at nearly every level of fitness. Each excursion is more adrenaline-filled than the last. We spontaneously shout, ‘Best. Day. Ever.’ before we discover it is the Eleven Experience mantra.

White-water kayaking downriver towards Deplar Farm takes us past sheep, and Icelandic horses, and through the Twin Peaks rapids. It’s a snap for my husband and kids, who had earlier in the summer spent nine days rafting in the Grand Canyon. For me, it’s a perfect introduction to the sport.

Deplar Farm’s Ghost Farm

Another day has us canyoneering, a sport that, admittedly, I didn’t know existed until then. I equate canyoneering to hiking upstream through canyons and waterfalls. We sometimes need ropes to climb up and around the gushing falls. Emily and her co-guide for the day, Lillia, ensure no man is left behind or floats away with the rapids.

After two invigorating hours of pushing upriver, playing in secret waterfall caves, and generally behaving like children, I start to wonder how we are going to get back to the van.

Cue the Eleven Experience advantage. Our van is waiting for us after the last vigorous waterfall climb. We pile in and are whisked to Ghost Farm, an intimate cabin outpost a few miles from Deplar Farm.

There, a hot shower with fluffy towels awaits us, as well as a stocked bar, munchies, lit candles, and hot lunch on the stove. The table is set, and we feast on creamy vegetable curry, fresh salad, and warm bread. Afterward, our experience manager whips up a stack of homemade waffles with strawberries for dessert.

To the circus

It seems every day is going to be the best day ever, even on days we thought we knew what to expect. A boat ride to Drangey Island to visit the native puffins, for instance, I thought would be fun, but a tourist trap. When we board the Drangey Tour fishing boat, we see no other tourists, not a soul, aside from our tour leader, Helgi.

Helgi and his dad, Viggo, have run this family-owned tour operation for decades, and know the island like the back of their Viking-sized hands. 300,000 puffins: 6 humans. We are outnumbered.

The steep 600ft climb to the top of misty and mystic Drangey, the aftermath of a 700,000-year-old volcano, is a feat in itself. I struggle to balance my camera and my footing simultaneously.

We learn that a group of puffins is called a circus, and after observing them for four hours, we realize just what a fitting description that is. We also learn that a baby puffin is called a puffling and that when they fly, they look like flying potatoes with their distinctively round bodies. I’m happy to report the chef didn’t serve puffin as another locally sourced ingredient that evening.

Angling to stay at Deplar Farm

Fishing is a major draw for Deplar Farm, the area being renowned for its freshwater Arctic Char and Atlantic Salmon. Many come to Deplar Farm solely for the angling. They leave the property long before breakfast and return well after dinner. We are not those people. However, we think an afternoon of fishing could be a chill way to end our trip.

Again, the day held surprises. After one last visit to the gear shed, we don our orange caps, boots, and waders. Five minutes down the bumpy dirt track, we find ourselves at the Lake House. Like Ghost House, it’s owned by Deplar Farm and is dedicated to guest use.

Icelandic farmhouse chic, it could just as easily be photographed for Architectural Digest’s latest issue. Old, iconic yellow spines of National Geographic magazines sit on the windowsills among other vintage fishing objects.

Our experience manager had reserved Lake House for the day so that not only could we fish but then, afterward, cook what we caught and hang out in the geothermal springs. Again, it has a full bar, more munchies, and an already-prepared multi-course meal to add to our catch.

Goodbye Deplar Farm: Vertu blessaður

I am enamored with Iceland and in awe of Deplar Farm and the Troll Peninsula. I’m already wondering when I can go back. Until then, I will replay the adventures that are still razor-sharp in my mind. Best. Trip. Ever. Thank you, Deplar Farm.

Read more reviews of Deplar Farm here!

August 10, 2021
The Mighty Silverbacks of Uganda: How To Find Them

Last January, I received a text from a friend of a friend: ‘Happy New Year! Would you like to go gorilla tracking with me in Uganda?’ I stared at the screen for a nanosecond and wrote back, ‘Yes!’

A nanosecond later, I wrote, ‘Wait… what?’

So began nine months of planning that would eventually take us to see the indigenous Batwa Pygmies, through dusty local villages, over the golden savannah of Ishasha, into the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, and ultimately, to the magical moment of finding our first family of silverback mountain gorillas.

Sabotage

Even a few weeks before our trip, I still couldn’t believe that I was going to Uganda. Sabotage seemed to follow from the start. In March, the plane on which we were supposed to be flying, the Boeing MAX 737, was grounded after mechanical failures led it to crash.

In April, a solo female traveler and her guide were kidnapped in Queen Elizabeth National Park, held for ransom, then released. As if that weren’t enough, the tour operator connected to the unfortunate kidnapping issue was, you got it, the one we had hired.

Nevertheless, we remained on track, convinced that we would make it home with a few wild stories to tell. My husband started saving ransom money—just in case.

Finding the silverbacks

Nine months of planning had led up to these next few days, the inspiration and impetus for the trip—tracking the silverback gorillas. In the two-hour drive from Ishasha, (where I had spent the previous three nights) to Bwindi, the landscape shifted so dramatically that I could have been in an entirely different country.

The Bwindi Impenetrable National Park and its surroundings are a never-ending panorama of steep, rounded hillsides, interlocking and overlapping in muted shades of green. Dense foliage replaced the vast golden savannah of Ishasha. Clusters of trees and steep, verdant tea fields took the place of flat, open vistas.

A heavy mist enshrouded the landscape, and then suddenly the sun would break through. The rainforest did not disappoint.

Bwindi is accessible only by foot, and is home to nearly 400 silverback mountain gorillas over 124 square miles. It is protected and owned by the Uganda Wildlife Authority and is a World Heritage Site. An impressive resume, indeed.

Family vibes

Echy, my Ishasha guide, delivered me to Buhoma Lodge, which immediately felt like a home away from home. Not fancy or modern, it nailed the unassuming, homespun vibe I was hoping for during our few days of gorilla tracking. Buhoma Lodge and Sanctuary Gorilla Forest Camp are the only two lodges located within the park boundaries. My friend and I decided to spend two nights at each.

Four nights, two camps

Although Buhoma Lodge and Sanctuary Gorilla Forest Camp are right beside one another in proximity, they are quite different in many ways.

The rooms at Buhoma ratchet up a steep hillside and required an amount of stair climbing that I hadn’t encountered since the Eiffel Tower. The views of the rainforest from our balcony made the climb worthwhile, and my aching quads eventually forgave me. Good practice for the gorilla tracking ahead.

Gorilla Forest Camp

This differed greatly from GFC, whose eight tents are much lower to the ground, nestled, and virtually secluded in the foliage, and had a much more private, romantic feeling.

Buhoma Lodge

Buhoma’s effervescent staff acted like extended family, always with a warm smile and polite conversation. My favorite time of day was when everyone would come together after the day’s trek and swap stories like old friends.

GFC’s staff was a touch more formal and allowed the guests to mingle among themselves. The managers of both lodges were as lovely and warm as the rainforest air and made many daily appearances to catch up with us.

At both lodges, wine was ever-flowing. At Buhoma, hors d’oeuvres were passed and a hanging iron fire pit completed the convivial scene.

GFC had an inviting nightly bonfire surrounded by a circle of chairs where we would curl up with a blanket, and watch the flames with a glass of wine in hand. An occasional storm would pass by, thunder and lightning in the distance. I felt like we were as far off the beaten path as the world would allow.

Thoughtful touches appeared at both lodges; at Buhoma, a hot water bottle on the bed at night. At GFC, toasty electric blankets and a large soaking tub.

Each lodge had convenient charging stations in the common areas so that one would never be caught with a dead battery. GFC offered coffee, tea, and wine service in your tent, and Buhoma’s open-air areas were piled high with coffee table photo books about Ugandan wildlife.

Both/And When Searching for the Silverbacks

GFC was a more modern and upscale lodge, overall. The parent company, Sanctuary, is steeped in philanthropy all over Africa, and in Uganda especially. A few of their impressive philanthropic efforts include supporting the Bwindi Community Hospital (which we visited), The Ebenezer Nursery and Primary School, as well as the Bwindi Women Bicycle Enterprise.

In all of our lodges, we discovered the Ugandan effort to reduce plastic waste. We were encouraged to use reusable water bottles and had access to water stations to refill them.

While both lodges exceeded expectations, I’ll admit, that if I were to go back with friends, I would opt for the more rustic Buhoma Lodge due to its more relaxed vibe. Alternatively, GFC would be my choice if I wanted a more romantic atmosphere.

Ham, our all-knowing guide, and the Silverbacks

Our new guide was named Ham, who I immediately adored. Guiding since 1999, he had gentle, soulful eyes, and an understated demeanor. Ham was filled with local knowledge and stories from growing up in western Uganda. He told us that he didn’t get his first pair of shoes until he was twelve years old. I tucked that piece of info away in my head to pass on to my kids as soon as I got home.

The Silverbacks

The draw of this tiny patch of the globe, where Uganda, Rwanda, and The Democratic Republic of the Congo meet, is the endangered silverback mountain gorillas. There are none in captivity, and only about 1000 are left in the world, all found in this one remote spot. In order to see these noble animals, who, as an aside, share 98 percent of our DNA, I knew I had to be prepared to travel far, hike treacherous terrain, and have oodles of patience.

As you may have guessed, the silverbacks get their name from the saddle of silver hair that develops on their backs as they age. Only the males, who can grow to nearly 500 lbs have this defining feature.

We had permits for two separate treks. Since we had booked this trip late (by African standards), we could only get permits for the Ruhija park entrance, which was two bumpy, pre-dawn hours away from our lodge. At first, this seemed like a setback, and we tried to change the permits, to no avail. In hindsight, it was a blessing.

While the early morning wake-up was painful, the drive to the Ruhija entrance was breathtaking. We were able to watch the sunrise over the hilly tea fields, the sky changing from night to day before our sleepy eyes. We passed women carrying plastic water jugs to the communal wells, farmers tending the land, and the barefoot freedom of kids. All this would have been missed if our permits were at the Buhoma entrance. A serendipitous gift.

Off the beaten path, literally

Advance trackers go out in the early morning hours to help locate the meandering gorilla families. They then radio ahead to the main trackers, so that visitors can find them. Even though their whereabouts are generally known each morning, getting to them is still no easy feat.

Gorillas, unfortunately, do not stick to the paths. They roam. Hiking to them required climbing over thick undergrowth, up and around cumbersome tree roots, and dodging biting safari ants, with the help of machetes to carve the way.

Navigating Silverback Terrain

Vegetation nearly swallowed me whole, and I lost my footing countless times. Safari ants somehow got to places that defied gravity, despite my pants being tucked firmly into my socks. For $20 USD, I hired a porter to carry my backpack. Money well spent, I thought, as she crushed a few safari ants on my back while I navigated the steep and unsteady terrain.

There are about 13 habituated silverback families in Bwindi, and strict rules govern their viewing. Once we found our family, which took nearly two hours on our second trek, we had one hour to observe and photograph them. ‘Habituated’ refers to the fact that the gorilla family has been exposed to humans for enough time that they react normally in their presence.

Silverbacks—The Bitukura Family

The moment I saw my first silverback will be forever etched in my mind, no photo necessary. We were tracking the Bitukura group that morning, and came upon the mighty dominant male silverback, Mugisha, sitting on the ground eating shoots and leaves.

The rest of his family, 12 in total, were mostly arboreal, swinging from the leafy canopy. The juveniles beat their chests (isn’t that a myth?) enjoying forest life. Barely noticing our existence, we were able to get as close as five feet away.

Jungle Love

A dense, deep quiet enveloped me and warmed me from the inside out. The only sounds are the rustling of branches, the low guttural grunts of the silverbacks, and the click click click of eight SLRs shooting simultaneously. Our group sat in relative silence, in mutual awe of the experience.

At times, we jostled for better positioning, and the trackers used their pangas to help us get a clearer view, effortlessly chopping down anything that was in our way.

And then, just like that, it was over. Our time was up. Who knew an hour could go by that quickly? We reluctantly made our way back to the lodge, thankful we had another day of gorilla tracking ahead.

Silverbacks—The Muzika Family

Our second trek managed to outdo our first, in the sense that most of the family was on the ground, and in a group, versus leaping from the treetops. The Muzika group was lively and rambunctious that morning, and after two arduous hours of trekking, we were ready to sit and watch the primate show.

The highlight of that day was when the enormous silverback, Muzika, walked right past me, so close that if I had moved my arm at all, I would have felt his bristly hair on my skin. As per our guide’s instructions, I stayed frozen, allowing him to pass.

Under the dense canopy of the Bwindi forest, the world dimmed. Every so often, a streak of sunlight found its way to the understory, illuminating the foliage, or, if we were lucky, the profile of a gorilla’s face. As much as I wanted to stop taking photos and purely observe, it was a challenging task. The silverbacks are natural models and the clock was ticking.

Family Life in the Jungle

Being such familial animals, I witnessed intimate moments between the silverbacks and their young that felt all too human. Mothers cuddling babies up to their faces, juveniles pushing each other around, and human-like grooming, not unlike the Lice Patrol in the DC School System, I thought.

Silverbacks are distinguished by their nose prints, much in the way we are identified by our fingerprints. Apparently, no two are alike. Even after just an hour with the Muzika family, I could see how the trackers could begin to know one gorilla from another, both through their features, as well as their personalities. And then again, time ran out, and we began our long exit from the forest, happy and sad all at once.

Homeward-bound

Fast forward to three flights and 7,000 Ethiopian Airlines miles. I’m at home, curled up on my couch, searching Verizon FIOS for Gorillas in the Mist. The silverbacks, I imagine, are peacefully roaming the forest, thirty lucky visitors on deck to watch them. Looking back, I am grateful to my friend for sending the text that set this entire experience into motion. Time to look ahead.

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Take on the Medina, and more in Marrakech.
Sail Croatia and the Adriatic Sea on a beautiful chartered gulet.
Spend a few nights on a 15th c. village island in Montenegro.

March 19, 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
Reykjavík, Iceland: ‘Should I go to the Blue Lagoon?’

The first question anyone would ask when I spoke of our upcoming trip to Reykjavík, Iceland was: ‘Are you going to the Blue Lagoon?’

It would lead one to think that it is the only place worth seeing in the entire country. The Blue Lagoon had not originally been on our hit list, as I thought it would be overcrowded and gimmicky. As it turned out, we ended up arranging it at the last minute, just 12 hours before boarding our flight home to DC.

‘Was it worth the hype?’, everyone asked later.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Capital charm

Let me back up a few large, Icelandic, steps. Reykjavík, the funky, charming capital city of Iceland (and about 30 miles away from the Blue Lagoon, as is worth noting), was not our ultimate destination. We were headed north, via another flight, to Deplar Farm for a week on the Troll Peninsula.

We decided to spend two nights on the back end of our trip to get under the surface of ‘the world’s northernmost capital city.’ Reykjavík, Iceland is a small city, such that it can be explored in just a few days. But exploring, and genuinely getting under the surface are two different things, and I would have loved a little more time given the chance.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Small-town vibes

Reykjavík has the appeal of a small town, with its cluster of trendy and interesting neighborhoods. It felt like a movie set, with a lively cast of characters milling about. Colorful, pitched rooftops, edgy mural-covered storefronts, and brightly painted houses provided an endless visual panorama as we roamed around.

This is a city that is certainly not afraid to express itself, and what it lacked in size, it made up for in energy. Locals passed one another with a wave or a smile, everyone seemed to know each other. With a population of only about 128,000, perhaps they did.

Reykjavík, Iceland: The Alda

City trips tend to overwhelm me, even though I have lived in big cities my entire adult life. I am often racing to get out of the city and into the countryside when on vacation. Reykjavík, Iceland defied this anti-city mentality, and I found myself daydreaming about living there.

Given we only had two days, we chose a hotel from which we could access the main sights on foot. This turned out to be just about every hotel in Reykjavík. The Alda Hotel is on Laugavegur, the main shopping street. Boutique in style and size, the Alda was simple and modern and had views of the rooftops across the low-lying city. Each room provided guests with a complimentary Android phone to be used throughout their stay, which was a nice touch.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Three Barbers

My favorite part of the hotel, by far, was the on-demand barber shop that faced the street and could also be accessed through the lobby. Situated next to Alda’s bar/restaurant, you are welcome to have a beer or cocktail while getting cut and shaved. The Barber website sums it up well, “three guys with a passion for cutting hair, shaving beards, and partying.” Quite a mission statement. The retro red and white frosted glass and old-fashioned barber chairs were insta-ready. Large street-facing windows gave passers-by a chance to watch the barbers in action. Another mini-movie set in this mini-city.

Apparently, these partying barbers have won ‘Best Barber in Reykjavík’ twice. I signed up my son for his back-to-school haircut (via text-only, so as to only minimally disrupt the party, I imagined), whether he wanted it or not. No joke, it was the best cut he’d ever had, and I wondered how I could get him back there every six weeks.

Reykjavík, Iceland: City Essentials

Every city should have a strong caffeine game, in my opinion. This is because there is nothing I enjoy more than sitting at an outdoor cafe with a cappuccino, watching the world go by. I especially love this in a foreign city, where I get to charge up and absorb the culture at the same time.

Cue Reykjavík Roasters, a hipster coffee joint if there ever was one. The design ethos is ‘great-grandma’s house chic’. With mismatched, upholstered furniture, vintage coffee accessories, and an old turntable with oldies to turn, Reykjavík Roasters, is ever-so-slightly full of itself. However, the coffee is really, really good, so I guess they can get away with it.

Their coffee is meticulously sourced from Central and South America, Kenya, and Ethiopia. The cherry on top (or perhaps I should say, the crema on the espresso), is that one of their locations is just a few steps away from the most divine pastries I’ve ever tasted.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Braud & Co.

I was told that if I didn’t arrive early enough, I could miss out on the melt-in-your-mouth cinnamon buns from Braud & Co., the uber-popular Reykjavík pastry shop. I took this as a personal challenge, and despite the fact that I don’t even eat cinnamon buns, it became an immediate priority.

I couldn’t pronounce most of the items on display; kanilbollur, Bláberja & Lakkrís, Danskt súrdeigsrúgbrauð, and Rabbarbarastykki, Brunsviger, prove my point. So I did what any desperate sweet tooth (or greedy four-year-old) would do and just pointed to everything I wanted. We paid, took our treasures and coffees up the street, and sat outside to feast.

It is just as well that I don’t make a living as a food blogger, as I am usually about halfway through any meal before I remember to snap a pic. That said, even a half-eaten rabbarbarastykki from Braud & Co. looked heavenly.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Eat, walk, eat, repeat

I’ve always had a soft spot for a good food hall. Borough Market, in London; Union Market, in Washington DC; and the Shibuya Food Hall, in Tokyo are a few notable faves. I love being able to sample lots of flavors and unusual cuisines in one handy place.

Reykjavík has a surprising number of food halls. At the recommendation of one of our fearless guides from Deplar Farm, we headed towards Grandi Mathöll, aka old harbor, passing fishing vessels hauling in the daily catch. The day was brisk but sunny. A row of warehouses lined the marina, which is where we finally found Grandi Mathöll, the cavernous, savory-scented food hall.

Rustic-chic picnic tables filled the space. Transitional square paneled floor-to-ceiling windows let in oodles of natural light and offered sweeping maritime views. Was I in the mood for kimchi, Icelandic lamb, or Cuban jalapeño poppers? Maybe pizza with a ketonic crust, or deep-fried fish and chips? Grandi Mathöll kicked each of our individual tastebuds into overdrive.

Gastro-what?

Be that as it may, my husband and I had one thing on our minds, the crispy, spicy, chicken burger from the mobile Gastro Truck. Another instagrammable moment, The Gastro Truck had a cool, matte black finish with unique wooden details. It prides itself on the idea of elevated street food. Whatever they want to call it, it was worth every crispy, spicy calorie.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Wandering

In August, the sun didn’t set until almost 11pm, which elongated our outdoor wanderings and allowed us to sleep late each morning. There was never a need to rush (cinnamon buns aside) and our two days felt especially leisurely.

We ducked in and out of boutiques, the interiors just as interesting and decorative as the exteriors, due to the wealth of intricate murals, and richly-colored painted shops.

Progressive Reykjavík, Iceland

According to the Social Progress Index, Iceland is one of the most socially progressive countries in the world. It also blazes a fiery trail in gender equality, and has been cited by The Guardian as, ‘one of the best places in the world to be a woman.’ This all adds up to an open-minded, laid-back, and refreshingly forward-thinking culture.

All along the main and back streets of the city were hidden gems; restaurants, bars, homeware, and design shops, and art galleries. Every so often, we’d pass a tourist kiosk that promoted various adventures easily accessed from Reykjavík. Having just spent an adrenaline-induced week of adventure on the Troll Peninsula, we opted to stay in town.

Off the ground

Keen to see the country from a different angle, I stopped at one of the kiosks in search of a possible helicopter excursion. It took less than five minutes to organize a 90-minute helicopter ride for the following day. My husband and son politely opted out, which left my fearless daughter and I to catch a glimpse of Iceland from above.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Wheels up

The next morning, a driver from Reykjavík Helicopters arrived at the hotel entrance and drove us ten minutes to the tiny Reykjavík Domestic Airport. Within minutes of arriving, we were wheels up with Thor, the pilot with whom we would put our trust for the next few hours.

Experienced and knowledgable, Thor confidently swept us north, away from the city, over majestic waterfalls, and then eventually to a massive glacier.

At 640ft, Glymur holds the title of the tallest waterfall in Iceland. Glymur’s gangly shape looked like a long, towering trickle from overhead. Thor circled to get a closer peek, and my stomach lurched as we dipped directly over the top of the waterfall. My daughter was in her element, thrilled yet relaxed, a huge smile across her face. Mother/daughter bonding at its best.

Thor had told us there was no guarantee we would be able to land on Langjökull Glacier “long glacier”, as it was weather permitting. While it was cloudy and overcast in the city, by the time we got to the glacier, blue skies prevailed. Thor prepared to descend.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Glacial landing

I stepped out of the helicopter as if I was Neil Armstrong landing on the moon, each step tentative, my eyes wide in awe. Arctic nothingness in every direction. Langjökull glacier, at 30 miles long, is the second largest ice cap in Iceland. And at 1,900 ft thick, I had little fear of falling through the ice. But, we stayed close to the helicopter, as instructed, taking a few selfies and videos as proof of this magical tableau in the clouds.

There are at least two active volcanic systems beneath Langjökull, and we saw one caldera, called Hveravellir, in the distance. The silence was deafening and ethereal. The air was completely still. My daughter and I savored the vistas until Thor said it was time to go.

On the way back to the airport, we straddled North America and Europe from above, observing the continental drift between them. The rift of the tectonic plates was clearly visible from the air.

The largest natural lake in Iceland came into view, glassy and reflective, as we ended the tour. We reluctantly said goodbye to Thor, both thinking he had the coolest job in the world.

Reykjavík, Iceland: The Adventure capital

Extreme adventure opportunities in Iceland are endless. With 10,000 waterfalls, 125 volcanoes, and 269 known glaciers, one could spend a lifetime exploring the natural elements alone. The land of fire and ice is no joke.

Yet, there is a time for adventure and a time to chill (no pun intended). With that said, I’ll go back to the Blue Lagoon, was it worth the hype?

As I mentioned earlier, the Blue Lagoon was not part of our itinerary. Only when I serendipitously discovered A.) it was halfway to the airport from our hotel, B.) our flight wasn’t until 6pm, and C.) the overpopulated lagoon had a separate, more private area, called The Retreat, did I pick up the phone and book.

The Blue Lagoon, or Disney?

Calling the Blue Lagoon a tourist trap is the ultimate understatement. According to Lonely Planet Guidebooks, the Blue Lagoon is the Disneyland of hot springs. It is unclear whether the writer thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. I know what I thought.

The area where the Blue Lagoon was built is a UNESCO Global Geopark, which sounds quite industrial. I imagine the bold and daring juxtaposition of the natural and the man-made defines its intrigue and captivates so many tourists each year.

Reykjavík, Iceland: The Retreat

The addition of The Retreat Hotel was finished in 2014. With its own entrance, spa, restaurant, and lagoons, we had the experience of the geothermal spa without the crowds. Basalt, the architecture firm that built it, cleverly incorporated natural elements, (wood and lava) with raw concrete to design a low-impact and modern structure that maximized the unique landscape, and complimented its natural beauty.

There was a viewing deck to look out over the main lagoon, and visually it was quite spectacular. A masse of people waded around the pools with the industrial geothermal plant smoking in the distance. The entire adventure was so unique, I would be hard-pressed to tell anyone to skip it, as we nearly did.

The area surrounding the Blue Lagoon was unlike any of the other places we visited in Iceland. Low, lava-crusted fields seemed to sprawl out for miles. The color of the milky blue water against the porous black lava was extraordinary and added to the otherworldly aura.

At The Retreat, different levels of warm pools snaked around bridges and pathways. The soft mud that forms at the base of the pools is created by the high silica content, which gives it the iconic turquoise color. Unfortunately, photos at The Retreat are forbidden, but I took my fair share from the viewing deck into the main lagoon to capture the scene.

The water temps hovered around 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and the combination of sulfur, silica, salt, and algae, felt soothing to the touch. I think I now know why slime was so popular with my kids. Having the lagoons pretty much to ourselves, it again felt like a movie set, although this time an alien sci-fi genre.

The geothermal waters are supposedly beneficial for the skin, and we spent four hours pre-flight, in and out of the water, applying various mask treatments to ourselves while in the dark, subterranean spa. There were meditation rooms and swinging basket chairs to curl up with a book. Our kids got lost for a while, but thankfully we found them in time to head to the airport.

Hype? believe it.

It was only a 4 1/2-hour flight home, but it felt like we had come from another planet. As I write this post, it’s nearly December. The daylight in Reykjavík is as limited now as it was in excess in August (sunrise: 10:29am, sunset: 3:58pm). A mere 5 1/2 hours of light, and lessening each day. Winter—an entirely different way to experience Iceland. Northern Lights? I’m all in!

Where will you find yourself next? Just Click.

Cape Town is a city where you can have it all; sun, beach, hikes, museums, not to mention world-class food and wine.

Tack on a few days or more at intimate Deplar Farm. It is the ultimate family adventure in Iceland.

Take to the sea—the Adriatic Sea—on a privately chartered sailboat for a week around the islands of Croatia.

November 25, 2019

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