Located at 5,174 feet above sea level in the San Bernardino Mountains, the 173-room Lake Arrowhead Resort and Spa sits on the edge of one of California’s most beautiful bodies of water. The property resembles a modern alpine chalet and exudes an historic lake atmosphere. 

Our deluxe room at the resort was perfect for the family. We had two queen beds, an office desk with complimentary WiFi, a large screen TV, big bathroom with a tub and shower, mini-fridge and microwave, and lots of storage space for our clothes and supplies. 

The best thing about our room was the balcony overlooking the lake and private beach. From here we could see birds playing in the tall pine trees, boats bobbing in the water, and beautiful lake-front mansions lining the rocky shores. 

When not in our room, we were exploring the rest of the resort. One of our favorite spots was the grand lobby, which features timber walls, Native Serrano Indian art, and a large stone fireplace, crackling amidst cozy leather chairs and sofas. 

The lobby is a great place for families because every night it offers special programs for kids. During our visit, a real-life “elf,” dressed in green clothes and long striped socks, read books, told stories and played games with the little ones. My kids loved it! Besides elves and other characters reading books, the resort also shows kid-friendly movies nightly at 6pm and at 8pm. 

Another fun spot is the resort’s private beach where guests can relax on deck chairs, play in the water, barbecue on the sand, and admire the lake. In winter guests can also frolic in the snow. 

A five-minute walk from the resort is Lake Arrowhead Village, a charming little shopping area with numerous unique shops, a McDonalds and a Stater Brothers grocery store. A walking path surrounding the village lets you get close to the lake to see fish and feed ducks. I recommend bringing a piece of bread or a cracker for the ducks because there are lots of them and they are always hungry. 

While strolling around the village, we got a good view of how big and beautiful the lake is. Located in the San Bernardino Mountains on Little Bear Creek, Lake Arrowhead is an artificial lake with a surface area of approximately 780 acres, a shoreline covering 14 miles and a maximum depth of about 185 feet. It is surrounded by the unincorporated community of Lake Arrowhead in San Bernardino County, California.

The lake was formed by the construction of Lake Arrowhead Dam in 1922 by the Arrowhead Lake Company, as part of a plan to develop the area into a resort. The private lake is operated by the Arrowhead Lake Association, which maintains the lake for the recreational use of its members.

After touring the village we walked back to the resort for lunch at BIN189, the hotel’s award-winning gourmet restaurant, which serves creative “up-scale mountain cuisine,” accented with Mediterranean flavors. Led by Chef Krista Stone, the menus showcase locally sourced ingredients and expertly crafted dishes.

For lunch we enjoyed blackened shrimp tacos with avocado, garlic aïoli, marinated onions and jalapeños, on corn tortillas. We also experienced fish and chips, with pale ale battered halibut, fries, and lemon garlic tartar sauce; and a Bin 189 Burger with bacon jam, tomato aioli, and wisconsin cheddar on a brioche bun. 

After lunch we relaxed in the resort’s outdoor pool and Jacuzzi, which both overlook the lake. We then discovered the game room, where we played ping pong, air hockey and foosball. 

For dinner we were back at BIN189 for a delicious meal highlighted by boneless, braised short ribs with mashed potatoes; mushroom ravioli with fried basil; and seared miso salmon miso with honey garlic glaze, jasmine rice and asparagus. 

We concluded the day in the lobby with a live show called “Fun with Forest Friends,” that was led by a friendly elf, who read books and played games with all the kids staying at the resort.   

Lake Arrowhead Resort and Spa Renovation is located at 27984 Highway 189, Lake Arrowhead, 92352. For more info, current specials and reservations call (909) 336-1511 or visit: www.lakearrowheadresort.com

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As the road winded through rolling hills and a ranch full of playful ostriches, we knew something special was awaiting. And when we past a pasture of grazing horses and entered a tiny village of windmills and half-timbered buildings with gabled roofs, our suspicions were confirmed: we were going to have a memorable time in Solvang. 

Our getaway to the small Danish-inspired town began at The Landsby Hotel, a contemporary boutique hotel, with 51 rooms, all finished with blonde woods, brushed brass accents, unique animal paintings, and elegant hand-crafted furnishings. Here we checked into a beautiful suite, overlooking a serene courtyard with trees, benches, firepits and walkways. 

Our room at The Landsby came with a comfy, four poster king bed, 47” inch flat-screen TV, mini bar, office desk and an elegant Scandinavian design feel. The room was highlighted by a unique painting of a fluffy alpaca, leather accents on the furniture and lots of windows looking over the courtyard. 

Once settled in our room, we explored town. Named by Sunset magazine as one of the “10 Most Beautiful Small Towns in the Western United States,” Solvang’s rich history dates back to 1911 when adventurous Danish-Americans traveled across the plains from Iowa to establish a colony and escape harsh Midwestern winters. Since then the city has retained its heritage with numerous Danish-styled structures with windmills and pitched roofs.

One of the great things about Solvang is that it is very walkable. From our room at The Landsby we explored all the sites by strolling up and down Mission Drive, the town’s main street. 

Our first stop was Ingeborg’s Danish Chocolate Factory, which was opened in 1961 by Ingeborg Larsen, who prior to moving to Solvang, ran her own chocolate shop in Copenhagen, Denmark. When she came to America, she brought with her many original recipes, some of which are now over 70 years old and still popular today.

At Ingeborg’s I felt like a kid in a candy store – an actual candy store! I was surrounded by swirls of pure chocolate, chocolate-covered marshmallows, nut & truffle creations, chocolate-covered fruit-filled marzipan, crunchy peppermint, orange sticks and award-winning butterscotch sea salt to name a few. The place also has an old fashioned malt shop. 

After sampling an assortment of hand-made chocolates, we boarded a horse-drawn carriage, pulled by two huge Belgian draft horses. As we clip-clopped through town, the driver/guide, who was dressed in traditional Danish garb, gave everyone on board a fun history lesson on Solvang. He also made an exciting U-turn on a small side street, which was quite a feat for a long carriage being pulled by massive horses.

During the ride we waved to tourists as we drove past a copy of the famous Little Mermaid statue from Copenhagen, as well as a large bust of Danish fable writer Hans Christian Andersen. We also past the Elverhoj Museum of History and Art, one of the few museums outside of Denmark devoted to Danish culture and the Danish-American experience. Another unique sight during our horse carriage tour was the eMoke car, a little, open-air, electric vehicle that looks like an old Jeep. Made for sight-seeing, these small cars are currently very popular in Solvang.

After the carriage ride, we headed back to The Landsby for dinner at the hotel’s signature Mad & Vin Restaurant. Specializing in delicious wine country-inspired cuisine, Mad & Vin serves fresh dishes with seasonal ingredients from California’s central coast. They also boast traditional and craft cocktails, specialty shrubs, beer, and acclaimed, locally produced wine.

Our dinner at Mad & Vin began with delicious shrimp ceviche, with citrus-cured wild red shrimp, avocado, onions, tomato, cilantro, and house-made hot sauce. We followed this with an incredible plate or golden-fried calamari with lemon, peppers, sweet onions and a succulent dipping sauce. 

For the main course at Mad & Vin we split a tender filet mignon, grilled to perfection and served with gorgonzola, bacon whipped potatoes, baby arugula, and a green peppercorn reduction. For dessert we devoured a tantalizing creme brulee and a heavenly flourless chocolate molten cake, with cherry port wine sauce, mcconnell’s vanilla bean ice cream, fresh berries, and whipped cream.

The next morning we drove a couple miles to Ostrichland USA to feed the world’s largest birds. Located along Highway 246, the 33-acre ranch is home to about 100 hundred giant ostriches and a few emus, all roaming freely behind fences. The friendly birds are raised onsite and love to be fed by visitors. For $1, guests can get a bowl full of bird food and walk up to the fence and feed the birds. But as I quickly learned, you must hold the bowls very tight or the ostriches will pull them from your hand with their powerful beaks. 

Ostrichland USA is so popular it’s been in numerous TV shows, including an episode of The Simpsons entitled, “How Munched is That Birdie in the Window?” For this episode, artists from The Simpsons visited the farm in 2010 to draw inspiration. 

Besides ostriches and emus, Ostrichland USA features a unique gift shop with t-shirts, ostrich socks, fresh ostrich eggs, and more. Admission is $7 for adults and $3 for kids under 12. 

Back at The Landsby Hotel, we had lunch at Mad & Vin and sipped local CARR Cabernet Franc red wine from Santa Ynez Valley. And speaking of wine, Solvang and The Landsby Hotel are located in the heart of beautiful Santa Ynez Valley, one of California’s most productive wine regions. From the hotel, guests can catch a shuttle to numerous award-winning wineries, located only a few miles away. 

For more information on staying at The Landsby Hotel and visiting Solvang, visit: www.thelandsby.com, or call 805-688-3121. 

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My getaway to Port Hueneme began when the family and I discovered the Holiday Inn Express Port Hueneme, the perfect hotel for exploring the city. Located a block from the beach, the hotel is modern, clean and efficient. The staff is super friendly and the rooms are spacious and feature a refrigerator, microwaves, HD TV’s, high-speed Internet access and comfortable beds.

The hotel also offers free gourmet breakfast to guests, a heated pool and Jacuzzi, a fitness center, and bike rentals. Besides being next to the beach, the property is across the street from lots of food options, a few blocks from the new U.S. Seabee Museum, and three miles from the Ventura County Maritime Museum in Oxnard.

Once acquainted with the room, we walked five minutes to Hueneme Beach Park, a 50-acre park on the water, with soft white sand, picnic tables, barbecue pits, volleyball courts, and a long, beautiful walking/biking path following the sand. The park also features a great seafood joint, Port Hueneme Lighthouse, and the city’s historic pier.

Port Hueneme Pier was originally constructed in 1956, when it was 650 ft-long. Today, after a few renovations, the wooden plank pier is 1,250 feet long and is a great spot for fishing, strolling, viewing large container ships coming in and out of the port, and watching the sunset behind the nearby Channel Islands.

After visiting the pier we walked down the long, paved beach path towards the port and lighthouse. The path is partially protected by a large wall of rocks to keep high tides at bay. It is great for walking, jogging and running, and takes visitors past the pier, scores of wild cats, and ends next to the lighthouse and port.

Port Hueneme, where the city gets its name, is the only deep water port between Los Angeles and San Francisco. The port is a leading importer / exporter for autos and fresh produce, such as pineapples, bananas, onions, strawberries, flowers and more. The port brings in an estimated $2.8 billion in economic activity while creating nearly 25,000 trade-related jobs.

Next to the port is Port Hueneme Lighthouse, which is owned by the U.S. Coast Guard and was constructed in 1941. The Art Deco styled lighthouse is currently closed, but will soon be open for public tours. On the long rock jetty next to the lighthouse we encountered fishermen, more incredible views of the Channel Islands, and a group of cute, wild cats that live among the rocks and abandoned port buildings.

Near the lighthouse is the Alaska Air Flight 261 Memorial Sundial. The Memorial features a 36-foot diameter concrete plaza with a curving sand wall and seating area and a raised sundial in the center. It commemorates the 88 passengers and crew who lost their lives aboard Alaska Airlines Flight 261 near Anacapa Island on January 31, 2000.

Back at the Holiday Inn Express Hotel, we had the entire heated pool and Jacuzzi to ourselves. For dinner we walked across the street to Pizza Man Dan’s for tasty pizza and chicken wings.

The next morning we enjoyed a great complimentary breakfast buffet at the hotel. Sitting next to a big window looking over the pool, we devoured biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh pastry, coffee, a variety of cereals and fresh juices.

After breakfast I met hotel manager Ruben Franco who suggested we rent a surrey bike to explore the beach area. He also gave us a loaf of bread to feed the local ducks.

The first highlight of our ride was rolling over the railroad tracks made famous in the movie Back to the Future III. The tracks, which aren’t used much anymore, were the sight of a charging locomotive crashing into Michael J Fox’s time-traveling Delorean car. From here we pedaled the four-seat Surrey bike along the beach and onto the old wooden pier, where we saw a few fishermen and got an incredible view of the Channel Islands about 20 miles offshore.

Our next stop was Bubbling Springs Park, a 21-acre community park, with lots of grass, walking paths and canals. The park surrounds a natural, unlined stormwater channel draining to the ocean. There are a variety of animals living around Bubbling Springs, including beautiful bird species, fish, frogs, turtles, crayfish, squirrels, raccoons, lizards and Canadian geese. There were also lots of hungry, quacking ducks that instantly surrounded us as soon as we showed them our bread. The animals came right up to us for a bite and the kids loved it.

From the park, we pedaled back to the beach for lunch at Seaside Seafood, a popular local spot, set right on the sand! Our meal was highlighted by the best fish and chips I’ve had in a long time. They came with Alaskan Pollock, coleslaw and fries. We also enjoyed thick and tasty clam chowder, seared ahi tuna, oysters on the half shell with pico de gallo and ponzu sauce.

Back at the Holiday Inn we returned to the pool and Jacuzzi, where we watched the sunset behind the Channel Islands.

Port Hueneme is also home to beach and banana festivals. The Hueneme Beach Festival, held each August, is a two-day event with live music, rides, games, attractions, food and exhibits. The Banana Festival is an annual event with tours of the port, food, and entertainment. Attendees spend the day celebrating the over 3.3 billion bananas that come through the Port of Hueneme each year.

The Holiday Inn Express Port Hueneme is located at 350 E Port Hueneme Rd, Port Hueneme, CA 93041. For more information on staying at the hotel, call 805-9865353 or visit: www.ihg.com/holidayinnexpress/hotels/us/en/port-hueneme/ntdca/hoteldetail

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Desert Hot Springs has long been a destination for rest and rejuvenation. Situated 20 minutes from Palm Springs’ expansive golf courses, artistic rows of palm trees and desert estates, rustic Desert Hot Springs feels a world away. It is one of the few places on the globe with naturally occurring hot and cold mineral springs. The Mission Creek Branch of the San Andreas Fault bisects the wellness getaway where one side is a cold-water aquifer while the other a hot-water aquifer, naturally heated to temperatures as high as 180 degrees by geothermal forces thousands of feet below the earth’s surface.

Unlike hot springs that have high sulfur content, Desert Hot Springs’ hot mineral waters are pure and odor-free, so pure and odorless that you can drink it, which increases its medicinal values.  Research told me that  “balneology” – the study of the therapeutic benefits of natural mineral waters – is especially advanced in Europe and Japan, where balneologists have studied the healthful effects of geothermally heated mineral waters which reduce pain, increase mobility, blood circulation, cell oxygenation and stimulates your metabolism, ultimately rebalancing many of your own body’s natural systems. My own scientific study revealed that soaking in a Desert Hot Springs’ mineral water pool was something that I never wanted to leave.
 
Since 1995, the Desert Hot Springs Groundwater Guardian Team has been designated as a Groundwater Guardian Community, with  the nation’s first Groundwater Guardian Campus, taking voluntary steps in protecting its award-winning ground water resources.
 

Onsen Hotel & Spa 

Upon my arrival at the boutique Onsen Hotel & Spa I was surprised by its serene surroundings. Snuggled in a residential neighborhood, this meant little traffic noise which helped to serve my quest for de-stressing. The front desk receptionist, Tracy Ayala, was waiting at the counter to greet me. She explained the history of the property where it had once been a hotel, an apartment building and then vacant until the official christening of Onsen Hotel & Spa on March 1, 2023. After pointing out the hotel’s amenities – the reception area also serves as a breakfast room with complimentary omelets, fruit, cereal and pastries – I was directed to my two-bedroom stylish suite, complete with office and living room. Creature comforts included a big screen TV, coffee makers, and spacious bathroom and shower, refrigerator and endless bottles of water. But it was a dip into the crystal-clear outdoor pool spa that warranted my attention. Along with the on-site Jacuzzi, both fed by a mineral-rich aquifer, and the surrounding simple plant arrangements, the spa achieves a distinctly Zen aesthetic. For those with walking difficulties two ADA lifts offer an easy and accessible way to enter the pool and Jacuzzi. There’s also a 24-hour fitness center and an on-site spa offering revitalizing massages and hydrating facials to cleanse your body and heal your mind.

Later, I conversed with the affable manager John Hopp, a walking encyclopedia on all things Desert Hot Springs. He covered in detail the work required to turn the vacant property into a spa hotel. He spoke how the goal of Onsen Hotel & Spa was to make it like home-away-from-home for guests. He noted that half the travelers arrive from England, Italy, France, Spain and Germany, as well as South Korea and Japan, drawn to its therapeutic mineral-rich waters, pumped directly from beneath the earth. Onsen Hotel & Spa also proves to be convenient homebase for experiencing the splendor of Coachella Valley’s stunning landscapes with its mountain slopes, panoramic views and wide-open desert expanses, all just outside your door. The property is near the Mission Creek Preserve, a protected part of the Wildlands Conservancy that includes lush wetlands, a perennial stream, and native flora and fauna. And the otherworldly terrain of Joshua Tree National Park is only a 40-minute drive away.
 

Cabot’s Pueblo Museum

Just up the street from Onsen Hotel & Spa is Cabot’s Pueblo Museum. This should be an essential component of your trip. In 1914, Cabot Yerxa (1883–1965) was the first person to rediscover and unearth the curative mineral waters of Desert Hot Springs. Then, only 600 yards from his home, Cabot dug a second well,  delivering drinking water. Finding both the hot and cold mineral wells prompted him to name the area Miracle Hill.

Cabot’s Pueblo

In 1941 Cabot began construction on what would be his and wife’s Portia Yerxa’s home. Considered a marvel of engineering and design, the Hopi-inspired building is hand-made and created from reclaimed and found materials from throughout the Coachella Valley. His intention was also to make it into a museum, showcasing Native American art and artifacts, souvenirs of Cabot’s travels around the world, displays on Native American Rights, and his own works of art. Today, 45-minute tours are available where you will visit the rooms of the Pueblo, experience the story of Cabot Yerxa and discover how he built his incredible home. This is also the best place to purchase gifts and souvenirs, with an array of indigenous art, jewelry, pottery, woodcarvings and Navajo blankets.

For further information

Desert Hot Springs: www.VisitDesertHotSpring.com
Onsen Hotel & Spa: www.OnsenHotelSpa.com
Cabot’s Pueblo Museum: www.CabotsMuseum.org

For more on Oceanic’s selection of properties: www.oceanicenterprises.com

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It was a Sunday and we thought we’d bring our out-of-town visitors to one of the beaches here in Southern California. Although I’ve lived here in Los Angeles county since forever, I rarely go to the beach. The salty west coast beaches are pretty to look at but notoriously cold at about 65 degrees F all through the year. The coin toss of choice was Treasure Island in Laguna Beach. So we packed our tent gear, swim suits and made a quick stop at the grocery store. Leaving at 10 am, the sun was already up but surprisingly, traffic was smooth and we arrived at our destination In less than an hour. All the street parking was already taken but one of our people knew a secret spot near some swanky residential area and we parked without a problem. If you do park in the street, remember to check if there are meters in that area … the old fashioned individual meters have given way to the modern credit card meters — no fun getting a ticket while on vacation, right? Speaking of fees, some routes have unavoidable tolls. Oh California — you and your endless taxes!

Treasure Island Beach is well maintained because of a partnership between the Montage Resort and the city. I’m sure the Montage resort would have preferred to keep this pristine area just for their guests but most beaches have lateral public access (meaning people can move along the coast). No, don’t feel too bad for the hotel guests because they had their own sun bathing deck in case they didn’t want to mingle with us mortals.

There were no showers available by the sandy beach. In fact, the nearest bathroom was provided by the resort at the top of the hill. The walk downhill from the streets to the beautiful cove wasn’t bad. Good exercise for us couch potatoes. Several early birds had already pitched their tents and laid out their beach blankets but there were still enough spots to claim our territory.

The California summer temperature was about 90° fahrenheit inland but there, by the beach, it was much cooler because of the light breeze and overcast sky. But even though we didn’t have any direct sunlight the whole day, I still got sunburned from the diffused rays.

I enjoyed just observing the California beach goers. You know the song — “I wish they all could be California girls” — oh behave! They came in all shapes and sizes — chiseled vs. cellulite. From skins that were smooth and youthful to overcooked and leathery — the vegans mixed with the fast food junkies. It’s interesting how most sun bathers started out very demure — self-consciously peeling off each layer of clothing but, as the day progressed, all inhibitions were thrown by the wayside. You know the old saying — “When in Rome …” It was not surprising that phone cameras were out clicking (although there seemed to be an unwritten code not to ogle and stare too much).

Some hand-carried their bags. The others who wheeled them in had a difficulty navigating on the sand. Colorful tents, umbrellas and large beach blankets served as territorial boundaries. Life guards were constantly propping their necks like ostritches. In fact, they did rescue a teenager who got swept under by a freak mid-sized wave. Although a few ventured further out and a few more only went knee deep, the majority just paraded their colorful skimpy attire walking on the shoreline. They said that here was one of the best spots for snorkeling but I didn’t see one snorkel … much less scuba suit. What would be the point to bring your gear when the spoilsport lifeguards caution you not to go too deep. Every once in a while a helicopter would come policing the coast for sharks. Come on guys. A little drowning and a little shark attack would add so much to liven up the place. Where’s your sense of morbid adventure? Just kidding!

We only stayed for three hours but that was enough to get our fill of surf and sand to last us the rest of the year. Treasure Island is indeed a natural treasure. I guess you can say this is where our tax dollars go.

A checklist of things to bring on a short notice beach trip and some tips:

• Bring your territorial marker like a tent, umbrella, chair, or towel
• Bring succulent fruit (watermelon is a popular choice) and liquids (water, soda, beer, wine) to quench your thirst
• Bring sun protection like sun tan lotion, sun glasses, wide brim hats, airy shirts to let the wind in but keep the radiation out
• Wear sandals (you’d be crazy to wear shoes where sand can come in)
• Big wheeled carts to carry your stuff are good only for the cemented areas and not really designed for sand
• Bring toys: Water boards, football, kites, shovels and sand castle tools
• The best time to go on a weekend? Any time really. The beach bums come in different waves so prime beach spots will be abandoned and made available for the new wave of people. Do keep in mind that it opens from 6 am to 10 pm the whole year-round.
• Half of the year, dogs are only allowed before 9 am and after 6 pm (June 15 to September 10). The rest of the year there are no restrictions. You do need to keep them on a leash though.
• Unwritten etiquette: She/He may be HOT but thou shalt NOT stare. Behave!
• Watch out for hungry seagulls who poke their bills on your snack food when you go to the water.
• Traffic and parking may build up in the late afternoon during the summer months because of the famous Festival of Arts and Pageant of the Masters. If you do plan to go, it may cost you $75 a head.

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The Palm Springs Aerial Tram is often called the 8th “Wonder of the World” because of the groundbreaking engineering behind its construction. This year, the modern marvel is celebrating its 60th anniversary, so I thought it would be a great time to visit, while also spending a couple days relaxing in the warm paradise of Palm Springs.

My getaway to the area began at the beautiful Renaissance Palm Springs Hotel, where the family and I checked into a luxurious suite for two nights. The spacious room came with two queen beds, mini-fridge, coffee maker, office desk, comfortable chairs, a spacious bathroom with a tub/shower combo, and a balcony overlooking the property’s large, sparkling pool.

Beyond the suite, the Renaissance Hotel also features onsite restaurants and bars, fitness center, convenience store, meeting space, and free wi-fi. My favorite spot at the hotel was the giant outdoor pool area, where guests can lounge beneath umbrellas or in private cabanas between dips in the water.

The hotel is located in Downtown Palm Springs and is set against a backdrop of swaying palm trees, giant spinning windmills, and the majestic San Jacinto Mountains. Once acquainted with the hotel, we drove a couple miles through town to the Aerial Tram for a thrilling ride up the mountain.

Our adventure began at the base of Mt San Jacinto, at Valley Station at an elevation of 2,643 feet. Here we picked up our tickets and boarded a pumpkin-shaped tram car, which can hold up to 80 passengers. Once inside, the conductor closed the doors and the tram began climbing straight up a mile of rocky cliffs.

The tram is pulled by 12,000 ft of cable and passes through five huge support towers along the way. At each tower, the car shimmies and shakes, giving riders a roller coaster thrill. Inside the tram, all passengers get great views of Coachella Valley because the car rotates 360 degrees. According to officials, these are the world’s largest rotating tram cars!

During the ascent, visitors are transported through five unique ecosystems – a change in landscape and life, equivalent to a drive from Sonora, Mexico to the Arctic Circle in Alaska. It makes this trip in about 11 minutes!

While enjoying the ride, I marveled at the views and thought of the immense challenge it was to build this project. It all began in 1935 when a young engineer named Francis Crocker was sweating in the Palm Springs desert heat, when he looked up and noticed that there was snow atop Mount San Jacinto. There must be an easy way up to that snow, he thought. And with that, the dream of a mountain tram was born.

After years of planning and political hurdles, a bill was signed in 1945 to build a tram up the mountain. By
1950, engineers were hammering out designs and preparing construction until the Korean War caused a 10-year delay.

To overcome the challenges of building up the side of a rock mountain, engineers ingeniously employed helicopters to help erect four of the five supporting towers. Because of this, the tram was labeled the “Eighth Wonder of the World” and was designated an historical civil engineering landmark. The tram was officially completed in 1963.

The tram ride up the cliffs ends at Mountain Station at 8,516 ft above sea level. Here there is a lodge-like visitor’s center with two restaurants, a gift shop, small museum, and lots of spots to look out over the valley below.

Outside the visitor center is Mt. San Jacinto State Park, which offers 54 miles of hiking trails and a few primitive campsites within a 13,000-acre pristine wilderness. The weather is usually about 30 to 40 degrees cooler up here, so riders should bring a coat. When we got outside, we hiked Long Valley, following a three-quarter-mile-long loop trail through a large meadow.

The temperature was about 55 degrees and the meadow was lined with tall pine trees and native plants and grasses. Along the trail we scratched the dark brown bark of a Jeffrey pine tree (the most common tree in the valley) and breathed its natural vanilla and butterscotch scent. There was also a small, raging stream flowing through the valley.

After hiking we returned to the visitor’s center and had lunch at Pine’s Cafe, where we enjoyed chicken tenders, a deli sandwich and some of the best pizza I’ve had in a long time. The Aerial Tram also offers a special ride and dinner combination ticket from 4:00 p.m. daily with meal service from 4:30 p.m. Prices for the combination ticket are $38.00 for adults and seniors, and $24.50 for children ages 3-10.

After lunch we bought a t-shirt at the gift shop, and a commemorative gold coin for $5, and then relaxed on the Mountain Station terrace, looking down over the entire Palm Springs desert valley, with views from the Salton Sea to the San Gorgonio Pass.

Back at the Renaissance Hotel, we lounged by the pool in our own private cabana, which comes with a small fridge, comfortable sofas, deck chairs, and plenty of shade and privacy. The cabanas are available for rent from the front desk. For more info on the hotel, visit:
www.marriott.com

The Palm Springs Aerial Tram is located at One Tram Way, Palm Springs, CA 92262. Tickets are $29.95 for adults, $17.95 for kids 3 – 10, and $27.95 for seniors. For more information call 888.515.TRAM or visit:
www.pstramway.com.

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Big Bear Lake is a magical place. This is especially true after a good winter storm hits Southern California, leaving the mountains covered with beautiful white powder. I recently visited Big Bear and discovered a cool hotel, a great sandwich shop, lots of fun snow sledding, and more.

My getaway began when the family and I took the 210 Freeway from Pasadena to San Bernardino, where we transferred to Highway 330. This twisting and turning road led us about 30 miles up the Sierra Nevada Mountains, past incredible vistas overlooking expansive valleys below and bustling cities in the distance. After about 45 minutes we reached Big Bear Village. where we checked into a large, rustic suite at Fireside Lodge.

Overlooking the lake and its snow-covered beach, the suite had everything we needed for a three-day, two-night stay. It boasted a full kitchen with stove, fridge, sink, microwave and coffee maker. The room also came with a large living room with fireplace, a separate bedroom, two TVs and two full bathrooms.

The suite’s best feature was the long balcony overlooking Big Bear Lake and the undeveloped mountain forest across the water. From here we watched birds and people walk along the edge of the partially frozen lake.

Besides cozy accommodations, the Fireside Lodge is also centrally located in town. It is only about a mile drive to the Snow Summit ski Resort, and a short walk from “The Village,” Big Bear’s charming downtown community of shops, restaurants, art galleries and pubs.

After acquainting ourselves with the suite we put on snow gear and went looking for a place to go sledding. We didn’t have to go far because we found a snow-covered parking lot across the street from the lodge that was built on a hill and made a perfect sledding slope.

After an hour of slipping, sliding and sledding our hands and feet were freezing and our bellies were growling, so we warmed up at the Old German Deli, serving authentic and traditional German meats, sandwiches and sides and more. Sandwich favorites include Schinkenwurst, Bavarian Loaf, Pepper Loaf, knockwurst, bratwurst, tongue and blood and much more. The deli also sells a host of side dishes, as well as food goods imported from Germany such as pickles, sauerkraut, crackers and more.

“People love coming to our deli because the food is fresh, authentic and delicious,” says Manager Victoria Medina. “Many people who come here are also reminded of their travels abroad or their childhood in Germany.”

For lunch we enjoyed a delicious Schinkenwurst sandwich with a side of split pea soup, and a German Salami sandwich with potato salad. All sandwiches come with a choice of side, and a boiled egg and pickle. Schinkenwurst is a German luncheon cold cut, similar to bologna, that usually consists of pork, veal, and ham. The one I had was memorable and I would literally drive back to Big Bear just for another one.

After lunch we strolled through charming Big Bear Village, a hub for shopping, sightseeing, dining and nightlife. It’s also the site of annual city-wide holiday events like Halloween and Christmas in The Village. A beautiful sight in any season, The Village features colorful blooms in the spring, bright green trees in the summer, vibrant crimson, orange, and yellow foliage in the fall, and glittering snow in winter that creates a wonderland with twinkling lights, says www.Bigbear.com.

During our walk, The Village was covered in snow and people were walking around and going in and out of shops and restaurants. There were snowmen standing, fire pits crackling, and music playing. The festive atmosphere was immense.

Our next stop was the lake, where we found a beautiful scene of snow-capped mountain peaks and tall pine trees reflecting off the semi-frozen water. We also found flocks of colorful ducks slipping and sliding across the surface.

Sitting at an elevation of nearly 6800 ft, Big Bear’s legendary lake gets all of its water from snow and rain. It is about 7 miles long going east to west and about a half-mile wide. The shoreline spans over 22 miles and the deepest point is roughly 72 feet. Types of fish normally found in the lake include several species of bass and trout, as well as crappie, bluegill, catfish, sunfish, and pumpkinseed.

From the lake we headed back to the hotel and cooked a steak dinner with potatoes and salad in our kitchen. We then threw some logs in the fireplace and baked chocolate cookies. While eating our dessert, we sat by the fire and watched the moonlight dance on the frozen lake. As the fire snapped and crackled, I thought about what a wonderful place Big Bear is.

Located in the San Bernardino National Forest, approximately 100 miles of LA, Big Bear’s altitude ranges from 6,750 to 9,000 feet. The city enjoys over 300 days of sunshine each year, with summer temps averaging 80 degrees during the day and 45 at night. Winter brings snowfall with temps in the low 40s during the day and mid 20s at night. Big Bear is home to bald eagles, bears, mountain lions, bobcats, coyotes, deer, and a large number of birds and trees, and rare plants. The town even boasts a solar observatory and an alpine zoo for injured wildlife.

The next morning we drove to Boulder Bay Park, one of Big Bear’s most beautiful parks. As the name implies, the park is highlighted by giant boulders stacked around a majestic bay, with large lodge-like mansions looking down. Here we did some more sledding and walked around in the thin, 40-degree air.

For more information on visiting Big Bear Lake, visit www.bigbear.com or call 800 4 – BIG-BEAR. For more info on Fireside Lodge, visit www.firesidelodge.net

The post Big Winter Fun in Big Bear, California  appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Story and Photographs by Raoul Pascual

The Santa Fe Springs Art Festival is an annual Mexican art fair at the tip of Los Angeles’ southern border. The city is predominantly of Mexican ancestry so it really should have been billed as the Mexican Art Fair. I confess I’ve never really been to Mexico but walking among the crowd I think this was what it must be like in a Mexican festival. All around were large families dressed in clean simple fashion – cowboy boots, cowboy hats, T-shirts, vests with strings, gelled black hair, frizzy hair adorned with flowers, and strong makeup.

The fair offered different activities. The aroma of food and the line of people in front of food trucks was the first section I gravitated to. It was a Friday evening and proud parents corralled their children to mingle with other well-behaved kids. I imagine this was the big event of the week for these hard-working families. Spanish-Mexican chatter competed with the sound of blaring music from the musicians on stage. I helped a family take selfies as we lined up for delicious $8 hot dogs. “Are you sure you want the Azteca Hot Dogs?” warned the food truck cashier. “It’s really hot.” “Yes!” I proudly retorted. Of course, I was expecting all those spices. No Mexican is worth his salt if he can’t stand a little heat. Among the hungry crowd were sprinkles of teenage Mariachi performers filling their tummies before their big performance.

There was a narrow corridor that led to a craft area. Young creative children were busy coloring and pasting cut colored paper. Around them were craft booths – a guy selling his paintings of Freida (I mean, what’s a Mexican craft fair without a Freida collection, right?). Another booth was selling wood carvings. Yet another was selling handmade jewelries. There were many onlookers, but I didn’t see any takers. But everyone was having fun.

I was surprised to find a Korean art club, who had secured a large tent full of paintings, collages and relief mixed media paintings. The club president was only too excited to show off their work.

A young man was doing a black and white chalk art of Einstein on a flat pavement. A local video crew was covering the event and took photos of him and their reporter.

There was also a flamenco dancer with her guitarist inviting kids to stump their feet with them. Beside them was a stage for different dance styles. Kids with red flowery blooming dresses doing the Mariachi and kids with white T-shirts doing hip hop.

The main stage was a good sized ampitheater with chairs surrounding it. An all-girl band was finishing their hard rock segment. On the side were other bands waiting for their turn to show off their talent. A small open area was reserved for dancing.

In the middle of all the activity was a two-story house-turned-museum, with all of its walls covered in an assortment of paintings. Some of the paintings were really good. In the middle of the house was an open stage area showing short videos of student film artists.

If you’re in the Los Angeles, California area during the first Friday of May you should come and check it out and enjoy a culture south of the border.

For more information go to SFSartfest.org and ArtCrawlFest.com.

The post Little Mexico: The Santa Fe Springs Art Festival appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Located at the base of the Topatopa mountains in Santa Paula, California, the campground is clean, well maintained, and offers nature, wildlife, gorgeous views, and clear, star-lit nights. It also boasts camping accommodations for all outdoors types. There are plenty of sites for RVs, tents, teepees, covered wagons, safari tents and cabins. For our recent visit, we opted for a rustic cabin overlooking the mountains.

When we got to the KOA campground, the first thing we wanted was to get to our room, rest and freshen-up. But the plan quickly changed when we saw a giant, yellow jumping pillow in the middle of the camp beckoning us.

After getting our thrills on the bouncy pillow, we checked into a charming Camping Cabin, overlooking the nearby mountains. The cabin was covered in pine wood and featured everything we needed for two days of fun and adventure. There was a queen bed, a large loft for sleeping up to four people, bathroom with shower, microwave, fridge, kitchen sink, coffee maker.

The cabin also featured wireless Internet, a dining table and chairs, a porch overlooking the mountains, and a private yard with a fire pit.

When not in the cabin we explored the 76-acre, adventure-filled campground. A short walk from our cabin was the bouncy pillow, a large pool area, a zip line rope course, and a creek where kids and their families can pan for gemstones and ancient artifacts.

To search for the gems, we started at the camp’s general store, where we checked out panning equipment and purchased a bag of gems. We then walked to the camp’s gold mining station, where there is an old wooden flume and a sign detailing the kinds of gems we might find. We then walked to the stream and hid the gems in the mud, so our toddler could sift them out like a real gold miner.

Near the stream are the park’s teepees and covered wagons, which make for memorable family accommodations. The teepees are recreations of Sioux Indian dwellings. They are about 20 ft-tall and feature a queen and twin bed and a couple tables. They don’t come with electricity, but offer lots of natural light.

The covered wagons are also authentic and fun and provide the feeling of what it was like for the earlier settlers – but with a little bit more comfort. Sleeping up to six people, they come with two sets of bunk beds and a king or queen bed. There is no horse team to pull them through the prairie, and they don’t come with a bathroom or electricity, but they do have a battery-powered light inside.

The campground also features RV sites with full and partial hook-ups, tent sites with no electricity, and safari tents with no electricity.

After checking out some beautiful RVs, we met a few colorful KOA campsite locals. Standing about 3 feet tall, they were covered in feathers of bright iridescent blue, copper and brown and shades of green and yellow. They were friendly peacocks and they seem to coexist nicely with campers.

Back at the cabin, I played guitar on the porch, against a backdrop reminiscent of North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountains. I then took a nap and began preparing for a barbecue salmon dinner.

Our cabin came with a propane grill on the porch and a fire pit / bbq in the small yard. Since we brought our own charcoal, we used the firepit to cook up the fish, along with potatoes, jalapeños, garlic and some tortillas.

With dinner we sipped sparkling water and watched the sun fall behind the Topatopa Mountains. We also discussed fall and what a wonderful season it is for camping. In fact, a recent report by KOA projects that this fall, 25 million camping households plan to go “leaf peeping.”

Across the United States, KOA says that 54% of campers indicate that they are planning a camping trip to explore the changing colors of fall foliage.

“Over the last few years we’ve seen a marked increase in the number of fall campers,” says Toby O’Rourke, president and CEO of Kampgrounds of America. “Between the scenery and the weather, it’s a wonderful time to get out and explore. Last year, as COVID restrictions loosened in many areas, we saw a dramatic increase in campers “between early September and the end of the year registration revenues were up more than 25%.”

The next morning we made oatmeal and coffee in the cabin and walked to the campsite’s World Rock Labyrinth. This Stonehenge-type feature looks like it was made thousands of years ago. It is made up of hundreds of giant rocks placed in circles to create a one-of-a-kind maze for KOA campers.

Ventura Ranch KOA is located at 7400 Pine Grove Road, Santa Paula, CA 93060. For reservations, call 877-779-8080. For more information, call 805-933-3200 or visit: Ventura Ranch KOA

The post Fall Camping at Ventura Ranch KOA appeared first on Traveling Archive.

The enduring Celtic Cross. Photo courtesy Tourism Ireland.

Richard Carroll – T-Boy writer:

Sightless Fiji

Fiji has a profound long-lasting effect on my heart and soul. An island country deep in the South Pacific where nature comes miraculously alive with cloud rain forests, a lush tropical mountainous terrain, 333 islands, hundreds of islets, and sweeping views of a dark blue crystal clear sea, all of which seem to be suspended in time. Fiji’s dramatic setting of upscale island holiday hideaways offering pollution free skies, an unrelenting sun shimmering on glistening water, and palm-lined beaches, have attracted visitors from all parts of the world.

I experienced a heart-tugging dilemma on one of numerous visits this time with Dr. Beeve, a noted eye physician and surgeon based in Glendale California and his wife Dorothy an RN, that unfortunately this ideal scenario of sun and sea is also a huge negative for the Fijian’s creating blinding cataracts affecting a huge number of Fijians of all ages along with other troubling eye difficulties.

Fijians travel from island to island in canoes and boats, fish and farm the ocean, swim before they can walk, and are living an island lifestyle which from birth seriously affects their eyesight. The stinging contrast is the Fijians might not be the happiest people on earth, but are affable and forthcoming, welcoming visitors with open arms, regardless of personal difficulties, of which are usually overlooked or ignored by tourists.

I found this distressing and heart-tugging drama unbelievably touching. Men unable to work and support their families because they are sightless, children born with eye deficiencies, a grandmother who has never seen her grandchildren, Fijians unable to leave their island because of poor eyesight, and young mothers who see their offspring as a milky blur. I noticed that even most of the dogs had cataracts too.

Joyful Fijians in recovery after a Dr. Beeve eye operation. Photo courtesy of Beeve Foundation.

Since that visit in 1991 when the Beeve’s established the Beeve Foundation, Dr. Beeve and his staff quickly realized that the Fijians were receiving very limited eye care and medication, and had no access to modern medicine. On their first mission with a small staff which included an anesthesiologist, ophthalmic surgical technologist, a dental hygienist, and an assistant who helped with pre and post op care, and patient education and vision testing, set up a makeshift eye clinic in Bure 2 on upscale Turtle Island. The word quickly spread and hundreds of sight-impaired Fijians formed a long line patiently standing in the blazing sun, some arriving via canoes days in advance, the line of canoes stretching to the horizon. Many Fijians I spoke with could not remember when they had vision and were spellbound when the day after surgery they gazed at Dr. Beeve with better than 20/40 vision. The Beeve’s said, “When we complete a cataract operation it’s like resurrecting someone from the dead. It’s an incredible feeling.”

The Beeve Foundation Team in Fiji. Photo courtesy of the Beeve Foundation.

In 2017 the Beeve’s were honored for their more than 25 years of medical missions; 28,503 eye exams, issuing 27,714 pairs of glasses, 1,756 cataract extractions with lens implants, 55 corneal transplants, and 1,005 other procedures for more than 30,000 Fijian patients, the majority of whom were legally blind. Dr. Beeve and his wife Dorothy finally retired with Loma Linda University continuing the Fiji missions. In 2018 with a team of world-renowned cataract surgeons Loma Linda performed 137 surgeries in six days.

The Fijians live in a tropical paradise but with an ironic twist, but for a writer the unpredictability of travel can often leave a lingering memory, such as the Beeve’s and their Foundation successfully treating over three percent of the entire Fiji population.

Halina Kubalski – T-Boy writer and destination photographer:

A Memory of My Father

My father, Wiktor Surmacz joined the Polish Army in 1934. After a few years he was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant in the Polish 179th Infantry Regiment, working closely under the command of General Franciszek Kleeberg when defending the Polish city of Kock, a town in eastern Poland about 120 kilometers southeast of Warsaw with a large Jewish population at the time.

On September 9, 1939 the German’s dropped bombs on the town and a fierce battle with the Germans took place. The Poles were badly over matched by the German 13th Motorized Corps and 60th Infantry Division, but fought gallantly lastly running short of ammunition with both sides suffering huge casualties. The final battles were fought October 2 – 5, and on October 6th after bombardment by heavy German artillery and outnumbered by the thousands, General Kleeberg surrendered.

The Germans sent my father to the infamous Mauthausen Concentration Camp located on a hill above the market town of Mauthausen located 12 miles east of Linz. The Germans never released the accurate death toll at Mauthausen but it was calculated that between 130,000 to 320,000 perished in Mauthausen during the war years. My father never spoke about his five years as a prisoner but did say to his wife, my mother, Maria, “There was no food at Mauthausen.”

Survivors at the Mauthausen concentration camp. Wikimedia Commons.

He was later sent to a sub concentration camp, a farm labor camp that was bad if not worse than Mauthausen. Possibly the transfer took place due to the fact that dad spoke German. He was liberated in 1945 at the end of the war by U.S. troops weighing all of 80 pounds.

My father’s one and only visit to the United States, he was astonished at the boundless selection of food in the supermarkets. He passed May 8, 1984, age 73, after six weeks in a Warsaw hospital, his health badly damaged by his years as a prisoner of the Germans.

Fyllis Hockman – T-Boy writer:

One of the Most Impactful Experiences in my Travel-Writing Career

First a little background. As a teenager I had my first visual exposure to the horrors of the Holocaust in some newsreel depictions of the liberation of some camps after the war – the emaciated survivors with their sunken eyes, gaunt bodies and harrowed auras. I called my mother, who had told me of the Holocaust my whole life, and said: “Mom, I finally understand.” Now six decades later, I came to understand even more.

The International Monument at the former Mauthausen concentration camp reads,
“The living learn from the fate of the deceased.” Wikimedia Commons.

Mauthausen, one of the largest of the camps, was built high upon a hill in Linz, Upper Austria, where Hitler was once a resident, near a large quarry. The rationale behind concentration camps evolved over the war years from imprisoning people, enslaving them and engendering fear among the general populace to simply one of extermination. And that was carried out in so many ways. Mauthausen was considered a Level 3 Camp where the guiding principle was that no one left – everyone was to be killed in some way or other. The SS excelled at very efficient methods of mutilation and annihilation.

The roots of genocide, according to our guide, were fostered in anti-Semitism, an us vs. them mentality, a de-humanization of others who are seen as “less.” It was hard not to draw some parallels to today’s world…

The “Stairs of Death” at the Mauthausen concentration camp. Wikimedia Commons.

Other cases involved prisoners forced outside during winter over whom cold water was poured – a particularly appealing entertainment for the SS guards who delighted in “showering” people to death – outside the actual gas chamber showers, that is…. Because any SS who shot an inmate trying to escape got extra days off, a favorite party trick was to entice prisoners into situations where they might appear to be escaping – and then shoot them. Stomach cringing continues.

Starved prisoners pose in concentration camp in Ebensee, a sub-camp of Mauthausen, used for “scientific” experiments. Wikimedia Commons.

Others, sick and beaten, simply died during daily roll call, a grueling process of standing in the heat or cold for 4-5 hours at a time, and being forced to do exercises when most of them could no longer stand. It is hard to hear all of this – and my stomach clenched and my eyes teared and I was overcome by a sense of helplessness and disbelief that these things actually happened – and no one cared.

Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler of the SS at Mauthausen. Hitler authorized Himmler to create a centralized concentration camp system. Wikimedia Commons.

In the barracks hundreds were housed in such horrendous conditions the term unsanitary does not begin to describe the degradation. On the wall is a quote depicting the “wheezing, hissing, moaning, sobbing, snoring” that filled the night-time air in 20 languages. “The noise fused into a single, terrible sound produced as if by a giant monstrous being that had holed up in the dark.” Another quote: “Anyone who hadn’t been brutal when they entered the world became brutal here.” More gut-wrenching stomach-churning.

And then we went through the gas chambers where thousands were killed and then the ovens where their remains were buried, with a side visit to the infirmary where unspeakable “experiments” were carried out.

And yet the neighbors and surrounding community ostensibly didn’t know what was happening, despite being within earshot of the thousands of prisoners suffering and screaming. In fact, some complained about the noise – but not about why it was occurring. The grandmother of our guide, who was seven at the time, said she could smell the stench of the burning bodies; she knew something bad was happening but nobody talked about it.

Survivors greeting US soldiers at Mauthausen. Wikimedia Commons.

Of the 200,000 prisoners who occupied Mauthausen from 1938-1945, about half were killed. There were only 20,000 survivors when liberation finally came on May 5, 1945, with another 80,000 already too ill to benefit from the end of the war. Not surprisingly, the liberators were shocked at the condition of the prisoners. I imagine so too were the community members when they were finally exposed to what was really happening in their backyard. At this point, my stomach was in perpetual decompression mode.
There were signs on walls from visitors in multiple languages: RIP, Never Again, and You won’t be forgotten. A simple drawing of an eye with a tear coming down was the one I most related to.

Most of the guards went home after the war suffering no consequences and little was said about what they had done. No one talked about it. According to our guide, it took Austria four decades to acknowledge its part in the Holocaust.

The Mauthausen Thought Area of today. Wikimedia Commons.

There were multiple school groups of teenagers at the camp and I felt thankful they were learning of the atrocities they otherwise would probably have no knowledge of. I wished I could understand what they were saying about their experience. History will now change as there soon will be no survivors, no one to say this is what actually happened, and the Holocaust will be relegated to the status of other historical occurrences which the young will learn about in school but will not relate to. Who really cares about the Crusades? There will be no visceral understanding. It will have nothing to do with them. There will be nothing to keep it from happening again. I only wish I could call my mother and tell her once again, that now I REALLY understand.

Stephen Brewer – T-Boy writer:

On the Lasithi Plateau

I saw Bartholomew for the first time when I was traveling around Crete twenty years ago. He was standing placidly, shyly almost, a fine long neck slightly bent beneath a mop of thick shiny black hair, sturdy legs planted firmly in the grass of a meadow on the Lasithi Plateau.

Lasithi Plateau in Crete. Photography by Stephen Brewer.

No, this was not a starry-eyed meeting with an Adonis. Bartholomew is a donkey. I have no idea what his real name is. The only other donkey I have ever known was Bartholomew, so that is what I call this one, too. I’ve been back to the Lasithi Plateau at least a dozen times since I met the Greek Bartholomew, who’s usually grazing outside a modest white house at the edge of Tzermiado, a village of just a few streets. I’ve encountered him plodding along the lanes that lace the fields, with bundles of earth-covered vegetables hanging from either side of his back. The cargo looks light and the weathered, bearded man leading him never seems to be in no hurry to get anywhere. I’ve also passed Bartholomew on the road that skirts the edge of the plateau. He’s been pulling a little cart driven by an ancient-looking woman dressed in black, a shawl around her shoulders despite the heat, and a kerchief concealing her hair. Bartholomew has been sauntering lazily and it’s always looked to me as if his companion has nodded off to sleep.

Bartholomew is a noisy animal, and I’ve become accustomed to listening for his hee-haws when I walk on the paths that skirt his pasture. If motorbikes aren’t idling in the broad intersection that passes as the village square, I can sometimes hear him when I’m sitting in the Cafe Kronio late in the evening. The homemade raki is usually taking effect by this time, and I can almost mistake Greek Bartholomew for the Bartholomew of my youth.

The first Bartholomew belonged to Franny, an artist friend of my mother’s who lived on a rose and holly farm her Dutch stepfather established back in the 1920s. Franny liked to throw parties on summer holidays. My parents and their friends would drink cocktails on the trim little lawn in front of Franny’s house as Bartholomew snorted from the other side of a hedge and my brother, sister, and I and any other children who were around ran through the fields and explored the two huge barns. Occasionally my father and a few of the other men would hitch Bartholomew up to a cart. They were unlikely farm hands in their white shirts and dress slacks, and I doubt they had any idea of what they were doing. They managed, though, probably because Bartholomew was docile and patient. We youngsters would clamor aboard and Bartholomew would pull us up and down the long gravel drive that led from the house and barns to the road.

Taverna Cafe Kronio, Tzemadio, Crete. Photograph courtesy of Christine Kargiotakis

One evening Vassilis, who runs the Kronio with his French wife, Christina, handed me a napkin on which he’d sketched a map. “Tomorrow you should make this walk,” he said. “I can’t go with you, but you should be fine.” He poured me some more raki and rummaged in a bookshelf to retrieve a reprint of a scholarly article about Karfi, a Minoan settlement in the Ditka mountains high above the village.

“It all uphill. Am I fit enough for a hike like this?” I asked Vassilis, who is a skilled mountaineer. “Probably. You are not as fat and lazy as many men your age.” I assumed he was implying American men. Over the years he and Christina have told me stories of Americans who have come into the Kronio, usually involving their size and peculiar culinary habits. An exceedingly large American woman on one of the bus tours that brings tourists up from the big resorts on the north coast made an impression when she asked Vassilis to top her baklava with ice cream. “Of course I told her ‘no.’ One does not eat ice cream with baklava,” he reported, shuddering theatrically with indignation. “Incroyable,” Christina added from the desk where she does the accounts.

A historic paved road on the edge of Tzermiado in the Lasithi Plateau. Wikimedia Commons

The next morning I walked past Bartholomew’s pasture so he could bray at me and soon I was picking my way up a steep, stone-strewn path that climbs a shoulder of the mountains. The mind wanders when you’re struggling up a hot hillside, and I thought again of the first Bartholomew. One of my early memories was being thrilled to see his picture on the front page of the newspaper when Franny lent him to the Adlai Stevenson presidential campaign for a photo-op during a whistle stop. I don’t know what became of Bartholomew. Franny sold the farm when I was still in grade school, and I remember being embarrassed because I burst into tears as my dad and I drove around the cul-de-sacs of split-level houses in Holly Hills, the subdivision that replaced the familiar fields.

I was now high enough to see the plateau spread out below me, a tidy patchwork of fields, comfortable and welcoming, enclosed within an unbroken circle of mountain peaks that keep the outside world at bay. White sails of windmills that pump water through irrigation channels moved with the wind. After leveling off a bit the path rose again to the crest of a rise. Just across a gully was a jumble of rocks that are the remains of Karfi, cradled in a fold of barren terrain and indistinguishable from the gray landscape. Far below, the Sea of Crete appeared as a bright blue expanse on the horizon.

Karfi was a sanctuary for the last of the Minoans, who took refuge in these heights about 3,000 years ago, and the civilization that built vast palaces and painted fanciful frescoes of dancing ladies died out on these barren slopes. I could make out faint traces of their single-story houses and gridlike streets, and I could almost see the phantoms of Minoans among the rocks. It was easy to imagine the mountainside humming with the chatter of human souls who no doubt laughed, told stories, shared meals, fought and made peace with one another. Residents out for an evening stroll must have scrambled up to the knoll where I was standing and gazed out to sea.

The return was on a longer route, across a high ridge then a gradual descent on a stone-littered track that herders use to goad goats up and down the mountainside. I’d been picking my way across the rocks for at least half an hour when I began to hear the tinkling of bells and bleats that grew louder as I neared a tall, wide tree. My thoughts of resting in the shade were dashed when I came close enough to see a large herd of goats crowded beneath the branches, sheltering from the sun.

The stunning landscape of the Lasithi Plateau.  Photograph by Stephen Brewer.

A little farther along the scrub gave way to dense, unkempt olive groves. I heard him before I saw him, a loud hee-haw from the overgrowth. Then Bartholomew appeared, grazing in grass almost as tall as him. I noticed he was saddled, and the bearded man I’d seen with him before was working a neatly plowed patch of earth tucked away among the trees. I sat down against a gnarly trunk, not far from Bartholomew, who raised his head to acknowledge my presence. There I soon dozed off, thinking about donkeys and those Minoan ghosts floating around on the mountainside above me.

Tammy Skinner – T-Boy writer:

Rediscovering my Heart and Soul

Expectation burnout. Oh, it’s a thing my friends. A very real one. Which is why when I was asked to ponder the theme of Heart and Soul travel and what that means to me, I instantly knew where I had to go to rediscover my heart and soul which has most definitely been squeezed out of me like a tired dirty mop that has barely any drips of water hanging from its threads. Point blank. I was slightly… just a little teensy OKAY a whole lot depleted. I know I’m not the only one by any means. Who of all of us hasn’t found themselves stretched with oh too many expectations over the past year and counting? Whether it was the expectation of pulling internet connectivity out of thin air when in midst of a zoom call that goes dead or the 40th call from your kids’ teacher that they were falling behind on their fractions and division… we were ALL in some way, shape or form in survival mode. And all of that on top of playing the game of KEEP AWAY with a deadly virus.

For more than 80 years the Little River Inn has been welcoming guests to experience the beauty of the Mendocino Coast. Photograph courtesy of Tamara Skinner.

As my husband and I drove up the Mendonoma Coast after dropping off the kids at their grandparents at Sea Ranch, I could feel a little bit of an exhale coming on. Then we got to Mendocino and the azure blue ocean waters started to cry out my name. TAMMY it called…YOU’RE FREE LIKE THE SEA. Soon we caught glimpse of the spot we had picked for our refuge from incessant expectations – the Little River Inn which is an inviting 80-year-old hotel that has a restaurant (with a full bar) on site and hospitality like no other. It’s been in the family over five generations and the warmth of the owners trickles down to every single employee who seem intent on doing only one thing-to nurture you back to well-being.

Central Californian coastline looking south, with the McWay Rocks in the foreground, and McWay Cove in the center. Photograph courtesy of Diliff.

We also specifically picked Little River Inn for its’ special rooms that come with a hot tub on the deck along with a built-in special back rolling massager (I can’t even talk about this without rolling my eyes to the top of my head). Because of the covid craze, I hadn’t been comfortable getting a human massage so I couldn’t wait to get in the tub and get my machine massage. Oh boy! I don’t know how to describe the pure bliss of sitting in a hot tub overlooking the deepest blue majestic water, soaking in the negative ions and having my muscles pounded releasing the tension which felt like a thousand rocks settled into the river inside my body. As I sat in the tub longer and felt more and more of the rocks dissipate, slowly my own flow started coming through as I was able to hear my intuition again. It had been a while! I missed that trusty guide of mine that I used to be able to access so easily. Turns out over a year of incessant snack demands and frustration tantrum sighs coming from my “zoombies” from their “bedrooms/classrooms” had drowned out that melodic voice of guidance.

Mendocino, California. Photograph courtesy of Jef Poskanzer.

Mother’s Day upon us, newly restored and with exploration vibes drawing us out of our heavenly room, my hubby and I got in the car and drove to the picturesque Mendocino village to see what my heart had in store for me there – revelation wise. Found in the backdrop of many films due to it being established in the 1850s and filled with New England styled Victorian homes (which have been restored into shops, inns and restaurants), we lazily strolled up and down the streets of this peninsula/bluffs surrounded land and wandered into the shops that called to us.

There was one in particular that summoned me in by its décor alone. I seemingly floated into Loot & Lore and found myself instantly surrounded by my favorite things-jewelry, tarot decks and books. I glanced at a beautiful Saints and Mystics deck that begged me to pick a card and picked a message from St. Paul who (according to this deck) was the Patron Saint of writers and spiritual searchers! The synchronicity was not ignored by me who had just told my husband that I’d like to get an intentional sign of a way to release my writer’s block. Finding two intriguing little zines (one on making vision boards and the other entitled GETTING OVER IT: Move on from the Bullshit That is Holding you Back) I decided to buy them along with a pen that had a quartz attached to the end of it with “Be the Light” etched on the side of it. At check out, I befriended the lovely store owner, Cynthia, working the register who told me this pen would cure my writer’s block. Yes please! And thank you! Enchanted by the flow and feeling of effortlessness languishing type roaming my soul told me I was healed.

Animals on display at the Little River Inn. Photography courtesy of Tamara Skinner.

I have often pondered on the fact that like machines we as Americans specifically are programmed to produce. Produce results. Produce good grades. Produce promotions. Produce babies. Produce retirement funds. But what if all of that is just one really really long inhale? What if the answer involves us also concentrating just as much on the exhale? For our waves to recede back in the waters after thy maniacally crash onto the shore? What if we just want to talk? To laugh? To have fun? Be known and understood? Feel the sun on our bare legs, drink champagne, embrace for too long? Mendocino healed me and it didn’t take much. Okay maybe it did. Ocean view+hot tub+negative ions from the waves crashing+genuinely caring employees concerned with my needs+magical stores offering guidance and hope. Most important, this stunning coastal wonder found me in the silence and without interruptions long enough to sneak its guidance in, and voila just like that I find myself back on California’s Highway 1 heading south to pick up our children, eager to practice this new mantra of “producing” less while “allowing” more.

Weave Cleveland – Travel Guys cinematographer:

Super Cool York

It’s surely timing and serendipity that set any particular place in our reverie forever. For me I will forever say that York, England is the most fascinating and enchanting place I have ever visited. You can instantly get lost in history at the walled city of York, and I mean instantly!

York’s city walls (circa 1890 and 1900). Wikimedia Commons.

You can stand in one spot and see Medieval, Gothic, Roman, and Edwardian architecture each direction your eyes are drawn… and more. Not the oldest part of town but the most compelling part is ‘the Shambles.’ Named so for the meat shelves and hooks where butchers and sellers displayed their meats for sale. Those were days long ago. Nowadays it is the ‘must see’ area of the city. It looks like a movie set. You can even spot Turkish architecture mixing in with the Tudor stylings. These narrow, tangled cobblestone streets also have something unique which I have never seen or heard of before – Snickleways. A Snickleway is a narrow tunnel-like passage to get you over to another street without having to walk around the block. An ‘enchanting’ short cut. I think there’s five of them.

Five Snickelways lead off the Shambles in York. Wikimedia Commons.

York has some serious Viking history and I learned something there that now makes sense even in my own city. The Viking word for road is gata. In English, gata gets translated to gate. So, even though I have spent my life imagining a garden gate or front yard gate, etcetera, in this case it actually means road. Bathgate, Helmsgate, Fossgate, Coppergate, Newgate, etcetera. I think that’s cool.

Another fascinating fact was how much time the Romans spent there and all the work they did. Constantine the Great was in York when he became a Roman emperor in 306 A.D. and started his rule from there. He was pretty great, he had a city named for himself – Constantinople (now Istanbul). The magnificent York Minster Cathedral has underground excavation of Roman ruins going on right now since workers in the 1960’s discovered them when trying to shore up the foundation of the Minster.

Bronze statue of Constantine the Great outside York Minster, looking down upon his broken sword, which forms the shape of a cross. Wikimedia Commons.

Now, here’s something really special, especially because I am Canadian and have grown up with these: KitKat, Rolo, Aero, Smarties, York Peppermint Patty… and the list goes on – they all came from York. Terry’s and The Rowntree Family and a few others all started in York. In fact. Mr. Rowntree even helped MacIntosh financially to keep his toffee business going. MacIntosh is still on store shelves today. Not to be confused with the MacIntosh raincoat maker or the Glaswegian designer/architect. The giant firm Nestlé may own them now but these candy bars all came from York.

If you visit York you can see the National Railroad Museum or the birthplace of Guy Faux or visit an old English pub smaller than your current bedroom and even learn all about the horse thief and notorious criminal Dick Turpin… but most of all it will be tangling your way through town that will steal your heart. What a super cool place York is.

Brom Wikstrom – T-Boy writer and mouth painter:

The real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. – Proust

It was a revelation to me when visitors to our Seattle home would marvel at our views of Mt. Rainier, the Olympic Mountain Range and Puget Sound. Likewise, guests from other parts of the country would delight in the majesty of towering cedar trees or the red flash of a robin’s breast. These are common sights to us and register appreciation but not the awe-inspiring experience that we have witnessed in others.

View of Mount Rainier National Park from Dege Peak Spur Trail. Wikimedia Commons.

The abundant natural beauty along our shorelines, in our national forests and even the arid portions on the eastern side of Washington State have always moved my spirit in ways that are renewing and I’ve always considered myself fortunate to live in the Pacific Northwest for that reason.

With that in mind, my wife and I began taking winter trips to be with family in St. Petersburg, Florida several years ago and were equally inspired by what to us is exotic wildlife and natural beauty. Because of my wheelchair, I am always in search of accessible trails, promenades and boardwalks where I can engage with nature and Florida offers many such opportunities. We stayed near two local parks that became regular destinations and offered wheelchair accessible trails that highlighted nature and native history in unique settings.

Weedon Island Preserve. Wikimedia Commons.

Sawgrass Lake Park and Weedon Island Park have miles of accessible boardwalks and trails and kayaking options and are treasures of natural wonder. I have enjoyed many peaceful hours in rapt wonder watching the diverse wildlife that call them home. Alligators ply the placid waterways along with turtles, lizards egrets, herons, and pelicans and though these are relatively common sights for residents, I am continuously amazed at the diversity and abundance present at these and other public parks in St. Petersburg.

Salvador Dalí Museum at St. Petersburg, Florida. Wikimedia Commons.

St. Petersburg is equally renowned for its beautiful beaches and the iconic Salvador Dali Museum along with the newly reopened pier and those are surprising, beautiful and culturally dynamic, but give me a few tranquil hours among mangrove swamps and leaping mullets and my heart will sing.

James Boitano – T-Boy writer:

Slovenia

As a geography buff, I’d always wanted to go to Slovenia. Its relative obscurity made vis-à-vis its better-known and more war-torn former constituent republics of the former Yugoslavia made it all the more appealing. I like obscure even more than well known Why go to France when you can go to Luxembourg or better yet, Andorra? And what was this little country of 2 million people like there tucked at the crossroads of the Germanic, Italic and Slavic worlds? I just had to wait for my chance.

Slovenia’s capital city of Ljubljana. Wikimedia Commons.

So, in 2002 while attending the Eurovision music event in Riga Latvia, I met Samo. He was a rumpled, brilliant, and kind high school teacher, a fellow Eurovision fan, and the first Slovenian I’d ever met. We so hit it off as friends, spending hours until late at night, engrossed in conversation at the hotel bar after the events and day’s rehearsals. We met again at Eurovision in 2005 in Kiev and again at Eurovision in 2007 in Helsinki. And each time, he invited me to stay at his home in Slovenia’s little capital city of Ljubljana. I finally took him up on his offer in 2011 for a 10-day visit. And you know what? I returned for another 10-day visit in 2012, And another in 2014 and my 4th x 10-day visit in 2017 (Covid prevented my last trip in 2020). Needless to say, Slovenia won my heart. During my 40 days of visits, Samo showed me every corner of the small country: from the mighty Alpine valleys to the Venetian Adriatic Coast, the rolling hills of the wine region, the little villages of the Pannonian Plain. For a small country, you can reach any region within 2 hours of Ljubljana. But most of all I met Samos friends and family.

Lake Bled, Slovenia. Wikimedia Commons.

Every night we would sit at a café and a crowd of a dozen would join us. The bar we went to was one owned by the father of the most famous Slovene, the father of Melanija Trump and they ironically called it the ‘First Lady Café’. I felt like so accepted by the people, the opposite of a tourist. Small countries so appreciate the attention, they are so often overlooked. And in small country, even a high school teacher is bound to know many people.

A traditional double straight-line hayrack in Slovenia. Wikimedia Commons.

During my visits I was a guest on Slovenian National Radio (during the coveted 1:00 am to 2:00 am spot!). Samo just knew the guy there and when he heard there was captive foreigner, I was invited. And during my 4 visits I attended several birthday parties held by his relatives and a wedding, at each being made to feel like a guest of honor. One day, I got to go on rounds with his friend who picked up produce at local farms and delivered them to grocery stores. We spent all day and crossed half the country. Imagine doing that as a ‘tourist’? And so, after all this, Slovenia has a big place in my heart…and I will return as soon as this post-Covid world allows.

Ed Boitano – T-Boy editor:

Ireland’s Romantic West Coast

My wife and I woke up to the smell of rich morning coffee. It was to be part of our breakfast on our first day in Ireland’s wild west coast. It has been said that all Irish homes become a bed and breakfast during the summer, and this Donegal County cottage with one spare room was no exception.

Full Irish breakfast. Wikimedia Commons.

The owners fussed over us at the table as we enjoyed a full Irish Breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausages, black and white pudding, fried potatoes and homemade rolls with marmalade. They told us of the area’s attractions and educated us on the Irish Potato Famine, that began in 1845 and lasted for six years, killing over a million men, women and children and caused another million to flee the country. The owner explained, the Irish in the countryside began to live off wild blackberries, nettles, turnips, old cabbage leaves, seaweed, roadside weeds and, towards the end of the Famine, green grass. The owner added you could always identify a Famine victim by the green grass stains around their mouth. He suggested that we read his favorite book about the Famine, The Silent People by Walter Macken.

To this day no one knows who these people were and how they were able to move such mammoth rocks. Photo courtesy of Nicolas Raymond & Brin Kennedy Weins, Wikimedia Commons.

We followed his instructions and found a Famine Pot in the middle of a forest, where some locals placed food for the displaced victims. It felt like we were walking through history.

We had already anticipated a trip to Slieve League Cliffs on the far west coast of Donegal, and were not disappointed once we arrived. Towering over 2,000 feet from the Atlantic Ocean, it is one of the highest sea cliffs in Europe. Its visual splendor gets my vote for the most striking site in Ireland.

We headed down the road to County Sligo for a pilgrimage to the gravesite of our favorite poet, W.B. Yeats (1865-1939), and soon found ourselves stuck in the car, avoiding a heavy downpour. We didn’t mind, we read Yeats and listened to an Altan CD, our favorite traditional Donegal music group, while basking in awe at the stunning green countryside. We read where the lyrical name “Emerald Isle” arrived from William Dennan, an Irish physician, poet and liberal political radical, in his poem When Erin First Rose in 1795.

Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery. Wikimedia Commons.

Once the weather cleared, we stumbled upon Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery, the largest burial site of Megalithic tombs in Ireland, built around 4600-3900 B.C. To this day no one knows who these people were and how they were able to move such mammoth rocks. We both could feel the power of the setting and something came over us; before we knew it, we were renewing our wedding vows. After a Sunday pub meal of  Irish fjord lamb, potatoes and Guinness we found another B&B, where (once again) we were the only guests. We wanted to take the owner home with us, and to this day remain in contact. From her window we could see cattle swimming across a river.

The striking ‘terrible’ beauty of the Connemara. Photo courtesy of Chris Hood, via Wikimedia Commons.

The next day, it was a drive through the sweeping Connemara in County Galway, a stunning landscape where author Charles Dicken once described as a place of “terrible beauty.” We pulled off the road to study a Famine Trail named for the Doolough Tragedy of 1849. Scores of destitute and starving people staggered through horrendous weather for 15 miles to a manor’s house in the hope of food, only to be turned away. Apparently, the owner was too busy having lunch to be bothered. Later, corpses were found by the side of the road with grass in their mouth, while others desperately crawled to a local church where they could die on consecrated ground.

The annual Doolough Famine Walk. Photo courtesy Tourism Ireland.

Once a year a famine walk takes place on the trail to commemorate the victims. As we departed down the road, we both commented that we had not seen a single car for over half an hour. A second later there was a rumbling on the road. We had a flat, not unusual on these rock-strewn Irish roads, but faced with having to unpack our little rental’s cram packed trunk just to find the spare tire was a daunting thought. Before we knew it, two cars, each arriving from the opposite direction, appeared out of nowhere. The drivers both hopped out and quickly changed our tire. They barely stuck around for a handshake. Such is the hospitality of the Irish.

It was pitch black when we arrived at our next bed and breakfast accommodations, and laughed in wonder on how the owners managed to get the bed into our little room. But where were we? In the morning, with the blazing sun illuminating this piece of paradise, we realized our B&B was nestled on the banks of a breathtaking fjord. We were in the town of Liane, where the film, The Field was made. In one of the local pubs a huge painting of the film’s star, Richard Harris, hangs above the fireplace. On our dinner plates was lobster caught that very day in the fjord. A tablemate explained to us that in pre-EU Ireland there were no taxes on food, books and children’s clothing. Upon hearing this, my wife literally held back tears.

A traditional music session at the Gus O’Connor Pub in Doolin.
Photo courtesy of Chris Hood, via Wikimedia Commons.

Eventually we made it down to the musical town of Doolin, a coastal fishing village in County Clare on the Atlantic coast. Coined the traditional music capital of Ireland, this was an adult Disneyland for us where a number of pubs specialized in Irish session music each night. We joined in with locals and like-minded tourists, had big pub meals of more lamb and potatoes, bacon (think ham) and cabbage, then nursed pints of Guinness as we listened to reels, jigs and haunting ballads, many about the Famine and emigration.

Our daytimes were spent on trips to the Aran Islands, a landscape once so cruel and unforgiving that it consisted solely of solid limestone rock, where rugged locals actually had to produce their own soil, made of seaweed and smashed rocks to grow potatoes, their only source of subsidence; then the windy, yet curiously tranquil Cliffs of Moher, standing 702 feet with a stretch of five miles, featuring panoramic views of the Atlantic as far as the eye can see; a massive Dolomite burial site located on a livestock farm (its only explanation, a note from the farmer, “Mind the Gate”); exploring additional archaeological wonders in the Burren as well as its castles, some now converted to private residences. We carry the memories with us wherever we go. Yes, Erin Go Bragh!

Postscript:

The Hand of Human Kindness: The Irish and American Indian Tribal Nations

In 1847, the Choctaw People in the U.S. collected $170 – the equivalent of several thousand dollars today – to send to the people in Ireland who were starving during the Potato Famine. The senseless deaths and struggles  experienced by the Irish was familiar to the tribal nation: Just 16 years earlier the Choctaw had embarked on the forced 5,043 mile-long Trail Of Tears, due to tyrant and American President Andrew Jackson’s illegal Indian Relocation Act. Thousands of their own succumbed to death from starvation, disease and freezing temperatures. Though the Choctaw People had meager resources, they gave on behalf of others in greater need.

A dignified Choctaw family. Photographer unknown. Wikimedia Commons

The Irish have long felt a debt of gratitude to American Indians. When current news broke that the Navajo and Hopi tribes were being ravaged by the coronavirus, Irish journalist Naomi O’Leary tweeted that now would be a good time to return the favor. That tweet went viral, and soon donations were pouring in from the Irish people, along with messages of gratitude and support.

In 2017, the Choctaw Native American Monument was erected in Midleton, Ireland, to honor the American Indian tribe that aided the Irish during the Great Potato Famine in 1847.

Kindred Spirits sculpture in Ireland, dedicated to the Choctaw Nation for their aid during the Great Irish Famine.
Credit: Photograph courtesy of ChoctawNation.com.

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