Sand and beaches, fragrances and Paris, art and New York...these are indelible relationships. As a venue for the visual, tactile and aural experience, New York is a global art center. One could argue the city itself is art, collaboratively designed by residents over two centuries and constantly beckoning new talent.
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New York is an infinitely walkable city. Despite Manhattan island's relatively small size, many New Yorkers can't claim to have explored all of this borough, let alone the other four (Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens and Staten Island) that together with Manhattan comprise greater New York. On a recent balmy fall evening, a friend and I walked - or more accurately, strolled - from the far East Village to her apartment building on Gramercy Park South. Along the way, we passed 19th century row houses, flat-fronted brownstones and Victorian-era Queen Annes. These last always make me think of old London and Mary Poppins.
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On a winter evening, a strong and salty breeze swirls dry leaves from the ubiquitous gumbo limbo tree along the quiet streets. Soft porch lamps hint at life inside restored bungalows, eyebrow houses and towering two-story Victorians with double porches. The Key West cemetery beckons in the half-light. Crypts and coffins rise above the ground - and the water level. One particular memorial pulls me back again and again.
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Each year, nearly five million people visit the Grand Canyon. But few experience its stark beauty - and solitude - like one extraordinary man. A native of Würzburg, Germany, Gerd Nunner may have logged more miles on foot in the Canyon than any man since its discovery by Spanish explorers in the 16th century. Beginning in 2001, Gerd has crossed the Colorado River (at the Canyon's base) 164 times and completed 25 rim-to-rim-to rims (in a single day traveling from the top of one rim to the top of the other - and back - a distance of roughly 44 miles).
Gerd has been living and hiking in the U.S. since 1990, the last 14 years in Santa Fe, New Mexico. To better understand Gerd's motives - and passion - I sat down to talk with him about where it all began, and his singular ambition.
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The barrier island of Ambergris Caye lies off the northeastern coast of Belize, separating the mainland from the Caribbean Sea. Every leg of the journey to Ambergris feels like a giant step further away from daily life and its stresses. Most international flights land in Belize City. From there, a 12-seat Cessna Caravan makes the short hop to San Pedro, the main town on the Caye. The airport's grassy landing strip ends at a small whitewashed terminal. Playing children and dogs are shooed off the runway to make way for landing and departing planes.
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Humid days and sultry nights, rich history, and foods flavored with both taste and heritage are the most recognizable ways to describe this southern city by the sea. Cobblestone streets evoke images of the eighteenth century and new restaurants and wine bars draw modern crowds. Beneath the touristy surface there is a cosmopolitan feel without the stress of an industrial urban metropolis. Street traffic is minimal, everything is within walking distance, and when in need, rickshaws are readily available. Steeped in history, Charleston is a vibrant and ever-changing American city.
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San Francisco, urban chameleon, city of artists, musicians, wanderers and writers, chefs, scientists, diners and dreamers, has a long and colorful past and a kaleidoscopic present. 49 square miles, a metropolis filled with complex lives, sensational stories and beautiful vistas you'll stumble across amidst inescapable crisp sea breezes.
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My sister asked me if I would like to join her for a week-long spa package at the Hotel Spa Ixtapan, in Ixtapan de la Sal, Mexico. This would be a real departure from my usual adventure travel - backpacking into the Escalante wilderness, hiking town to town in Europe carrying everything in a day pack - but my 70+ year-old knees were starting to rebel. Maybe it was time for a little pampering.
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The day was warm and sunny so we kept to the shady side of the street whenever possible. Time was short. Those wanting to shop had to hustle and a cold Coca-Cola was about all that could be managed. A starkly stylized wrought iron crucifix, in a shop filled with intriguing crafts done by a family of talented artisans, drew me in. Rationalizing that it would fit in my suitcase with clothing stuffed around it, I succumbed.
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Directly east of Jackson, Wyoming is the Gros Ventre Wilderness. Located in the Bridger-Teton National Forest, the Gros Ventre is a mystical wilderness of fertile riverbed, big pines, cottonwoods and ranging herds of elk, moose, mule deer and bighorn sheep. Twenty peaks rise 10,000 feet over the valley and 200 miles of trails run throughout the area. Along the valley floor the Gros Ventre River, a tributary of the Snake, follows an alternating path through narrow canyons and a broad, cottonwood-lined bottom.
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I can't remember where I was exactly. All I recall is that I was riding in a Suburban taxi on the way out of one of the three major canyons that comprise Mexico's Copper Canyon. It was either Batopilas or Urique and I was feeling light headed as the taxi navigated slowly up the steep switchbacks.
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On the flight from West Palm Beach to Marsh Harbour, Abaco, Bahamas, I was seated next to an experienced Bahamian visitor who was incredulous when I explained that we planned to eat only the fish we caught for our main meals during our 10-day stay on Scotland Cay.
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