Curated by Ed Boitano

Richard Carroll — T-Boy writer:

The Grand Canyon

I very much have the yearning to hike the Grand Canyon again to enjoy the rocky switch-back trail that leads to the bottom of this incredible national park where the Colorado River is cutting an ageless path leaving in its wake a lasting mark. The fast-moving river was a convenient but treacherous highway for American trappers, mountain men, explorers, Native Americans, and later fun-loving rafting aficionados. The problematic river with tales to share includes the heart-break and disillusionment of the unknown when explorers with overloaded boats had no idea of the advancing challenges.

Throughout my visit I would spend time to fully appreciate the million years of geological history embedded in the towering walls, to understand that the Pueblo people and other Native America tribes have existed in the Canyon when the United States was just a jagged blob on European maps, and that some Native America’s to this day believe the Grand Canyon is a holy site. I would encompass a few leisurely days in the park with notebook and pin in order to fully appreciate the lingering sunsets, the merging colors, and irregular shadows that quickly transpose the massive landscape from a deep red to pastels. I recall the flickering and fading light touching on fantastic shapes, setting the mind’s eye to run wild. The Grand Canyon is both a scenic and historic jewel and on my next encounter I hope to be firmly enlightened.

Ed Boitano — T-Boy editor:

Twin Cities: Minneapolis and Saint Paul

A quick study revealed that the distinct urban cultures of Minnesota’s Twin Cities: Saint Paul and Minneapolis, sit apart by a mere seven-mile-long football pass – that is if the pass was thrown by Minnesota Vikings’ quarterback Fran Tarkenton. Built around the confluence of the Mississippi  and Minnesota rivers, St. Paul is considered the last city of the East, Minneapolis the first city of the West. Saint Paul is renowned for quaint neighborhoods of well-preserved late-Victorian architecture, while the more populated Minneapolis is considered a modern city with a relatively young downtown and trendy uptown. Saint Paul is also the state capital and the birthplace of writer F. Scott Fitzgerald. His family home, described as a simple brownstone row house, is where he wrote his first published novel, This Side of Paradise, to prove that he would able to support the wealthy Alabama southern belle Zelda Sayre who would eventually become his bride.

Despite the blistering months of cold and snow, a car journey to Duluth would be in order to see the birth home of Robert Zimmerman (Bob Dylan, 2016 Nobel Prize in Literature). This would be followed by trip north and longer stay at Hibbing, where Dylan (Zimmy to friends), lived during his informative years from ages six to eighteen. Hibbing is famous for its Dylan heritage sites, which includes his family’s modest home, and also the site of the world’s largest iron ore mine. Why winter? For an ice fishing experience. After all, isn’t this the state of 1,000 lakes (actually 14,444 lakes). Imagine fishing in an ice hole in the comfort of a warm fishing shack, compete with a little stove, chairs, food and drink, and with Dylan songs on my phone and Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise in my hand. I guess a fishing pole would be in my other.

Ringo Boitano — T-Boy writer:

Oklahoma City

Often times in the past I would join press trips to places I’d never been or would probably never visit when it was on my own dime. This was true with my experience in Tulsa, Oklahoma and the Cherokee Nation. I had an ignorant west coast conception that the entire state was one big dust bowl, based on Steinbeck’s novel, The Grapes of Wrath and John Ford’s film adaptation. I was proven wrong; the Tulsa area was fresh, green and vibrant, and I learned much at the very progressive Cherokee nation. On my flight to Seattle, I thought of an old NPR broadcast at the time of the Oklahoma City terrorist bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building on April 19, 1995. Carried out by Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols, the bombing killed 168 innocent people and injured more than 680 others. The broadcaster spoke of the emotional texture of its people; it went something like this: Very little happens in Oklahoma City that evokes national coverage from the press. The people are used to this lack of attention, but at time of the bombing its citizens displayed resilience, strength and empathy to one another.

Phil Marley — Poet:

Road Trip: Philadelphia to Pittsburgh

James Carville famously described Pennsylvania politically as Philadelphia in the East, Pittsburgh in the West, and Alabama in the middle. But why Alabama? Apparently, it’s due to this part of Pennsylvania’s mountainous central area is known as the Appalachian region where its local people and culture are politically more of the conservative kind than the urbanized East and West. The Appalachian region will be part of the landscape I plan on passing as I depart Philadelphia in my rental to Pittsburgh, the ancestral home of my friend, David. No doubt a stop in Pennsylvania Dutch Country (from German Deutsch), famous for its productive green farmlands, thanks to the Amish and the Mennonites, will be in order. I’ll have only half a day for Gettysburg National Military Park; for Steel Town is my goal of and I had planned on seeing as much of it as I could in two-days.  David has gushed about his city of 446 bridges, more than Venice, Italy, and its three rivers: the Allegheny River and Monongahela River united at Point State Park to form the Ohio River.

I’ve read that Pittsburgh’s ethnic enclaves are slowly disappearing since David’s departure, but still exist with the Germans of Millvale, Italians of New Castle, Slovaks of Munhall, Hungarians of Hazelwood and Ukrainians of the South Side. Plus, there’s hills galore to climb with magnificent views of the city to see.

During a much earlier trip to what would be become Pittsburg’s Point State Park, Lieutenant George Washington of the Virginia militia,  negotiated with the French during the French and Indian War of 1753.  He wrote about Point State Park in his journal.

As I got down before the Canoe, I spent some Time in viewing the Rivers, and the Land in the Fork; which I think extremely well situated for a Fort, as it has the absolute Command of both Rivers. The Land at the Point is 20 or 25 Feet above the common Surface of the Water; and a considerable Bottom of flat, well-timbered Land all around it, very convenient for Building: The Rivers are each a Quarter of a Mile, or more, across, and run here very near at right Angles: Aligany bearing N. E. and Monongahela S. E. The former of these two is a very rapid and swift running Water; the other deep and still, without any perceptible fall.”

Four different forts were built at the forks of the Ohio within a period of five years. In 1754, French forces captured an outpost known as Fort Prince George at the Point that had been erected by a force of Virginians. George Washington led British forces to recapture the fort, but suffered his first and only surrender at Fort Necessity, 50 miles to the south.

Deb Roskamp — T-Boy photographer and writer:

I have friends who vacation once a year to Sanibel Island, located along the Gulf of Mexico, just a short drive from Fort Myers, Florida. Their enchanting description of its sunsets, lighthouse and beaches harkens to  emotional thoughts of calm, peace and rejuvenation. They spoke of the island’s most popular activity known as shelling; Sanibel Island has the 3rd richest seashell beaches on earth. Apparently, you barely can walk a step on the beach without indulging in the so-called “Sanibel Stoop” in search of its shells. Research informed me that the most secluded beach on the island is Bowman’s Beach; there are no hotels in sight and the beach has a “pristine and quiet” atmosphere.

James Boitano — T-Boy writer:

Isle Royale

• Hawaii Volcanos
• Lassen Volcanic
• Gates of the Arctic

US Cities: Just picking 4 random larger cities I have not been to. No particular draw specifically: just that I have not been to them.

• Kansas City, MO & KS
• Wichita, KS
• Little Rock, AR
• El Paso, TX

US towns/Villages

• Barrow, AK (most northern)
• Pago Pago, American Samoa (most southern)
• Derby Line, VT (town divided into two by Canadian border)

Sites

• National Civil Rights Museum, Memphis, TN (where Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated)
• Appomattox Courthouse, VA (where Civil War Ended)
• Meteor Crater, AZ

Skip Kaltenheuser — T-Boy writer:

A Bucket List is any trip, anytime, anywhere.

The term “Bucket List” gives me the willies. I’m not ready to strike a bargain, have it fulfilled and shuffle off, none of that “To see Paris and die” stuff, I just want to go on seeing, the list eternal. And I can think of a worse afterlife, the Flying Dutchman finally allowed make any port of call he desires.

But I’ve plenty of domestic locales high up on my wish list for the here and now. Many of them are national or state parks and the environs around them. Some are repeats from when I was young, including places my parents took me that left indelible memories – of places, of them, of my awe. Living in a suburb of Kansas City, we usually headed West in my traveling salesman dad’s Buick of the moment. Car and man joined together as a driving cyborg, or a genie with a bit of flying carpet, gifting an endless flow of national parks and roadside attractions, another day another natural wonder, or two or five.

Many of the roads were pre-Interstate, before fascinating arteries like Route 66 withered, when roadside attractions were still legion. Where water flowed uphill and gravity was iffy. Before the Buick was air-conditioned, summer climate figured in, going across Death Valley at night, though the night sky was still something to gawk at. Kansas could get pretty hot and steamy, so soaking up the cool of the mountains counted. I think we tended to favor the West because we were lucky to have a couple horses we kept in a rented pasture that kept moving outward with the suburban sprawl, and though cowboy was a stretch the image was still internalized, polished up with a Boy Scout’s interest in all things outdoors. Plus, as driving was a parental pleasure, wide-open spaces with sudden, map-inspired detours were magnetic. The serendipity of what looked enticing on a map. No cell phones then, thank God. I still use a map.

Revisiting Jackson Hole with a then-small boy, his first downhill ski, and a dog sled in the Tetons, I realized how many repeaters I’d like to share. That was a lovely continuum stretching from my own childhood visit. Though my kids are now young adults, I’d like to share more of those memories with them, to watch them form their own impressions as they react to the beauty and the menace of places like the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone. To watch them explore the Rockies, where I once camped on a mountain ridge for a summer, working down below in Estes Park. When I was young Colorado alternated with the Ozarks as the family default, the excitement of topographical relief coming into view after the hundred mile-an-hour car ride across the Kansas flat. And I’d like to re-experience some of the skiing in the Rockies, the high ground views whispering “Are you sure?”, before my knees go on strike over bad working conditions. Is 69 really rounding the bend, just shy of April Fools? Other things now compete for my kids’ time, so any window of travel opportunity with them is gold.

My family didn’t exclusively drive West. Other child memories I’d like to refresh and share include the Everglades, and the underwater views of the coral reefs along the Florida Keys. These destinations seemed exotic to a boy from Kansas. Because they were exotic. Driving east one Spring, we took in “the educational” in a DC adorned with blossoms, leaving impressions that might have later helped draw me to the city where my family resides.

Beyond the grand repeaters, framed this time with a whiz-bang camera, locales I wish for include sites that will be new to me. Yosemite waits in my imagination with Ansel Adams. California’s skyscraper redwoods, with my hopes that climate-induced fires won’t imperil them. I’d like Death Valley to be well-bathed in rain so I can see a big Spring flower desert bloom. Hiking and biking through some of the canyons in Utah that look so surreal. I’m not a snob for elevation, I’d like to see how the Kansas Tall Grass Prairie has grown, and visit deserts like the Sonoran.

As I write this, I realize my parents also had bucket lists, with me lucky to help fulfill parts. After Dad died Mom lived with us in DC until she passed away at 101 1/2. Nothing excited her more than getting in the car for any trip, anytime, anywhere.

During the microbe onslaught, everything got relative fast. Over the last year, when they could cobble time for a break, I took my kids on local road trip explorations, appreciating the poor man’s Rivieras in state parks and coastal areas, the valleys by the Blue Ridge, a scenic winery, etc… Anything for relief from online study rigors and pandemic isolation, to break up the scenery as best one can do in two or three days or even just a day trip. I just took my son to Solomon’s Island, MD, catching roadside attractions along the way like the northernmost cyprus swamp, (who knew?).

One is never stuck for a place to go as long as the wish list is any trip, anytime, anywhere.

Arthur Lim — IT Professional: 

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Following the arrival of railroads beginning in 1871, Colorado Springs’ location at the base of Pikes Peak and the Rocky Mountain made it a popular tourism destination. The Summer of 1975 was when I visited Colorado Springs, but that was a while back and am primed for a revisit.  Aside from the many mountainous streams, two places of interest stood up in my mind: the Glen Eyrie Castle, and the United States Air Force Academy. Glen Eyrie Castle is a Tudor styled castle built by General William Jackson Palmer in 1871. He founded Colorado Springs. The United States Air Force Academy is nearby. It houses a beautiful interdenominational chapel and has an overall futuristic feel.

Roy Endersby — Philosopher:

The Mississippi Delta: Birthplace of the Blues and Vicksburg National Military Park

In a New Orleans rental car I traveled through Louisiana’s Cajun Country for lunch in Houma at Abear’s Café; a Cajun and Creole mom & pop café, famous for their specialty: alligator piquant and potato salad. The café’s founder, owner, chef and Houma native,  Albert “Curly” L. Hebert ( (1933- 2017) politely shuffled around us, expressing concern that the dish might seem rather funny to us Yankees, before proudly proclaiming that the very dish won an award at a county fair. The next two nights it was Lafayette (pronounced ‘Laugh-yet’) for a little Cajun and zydeco flavor, and then Breaux Bridge; the crawfish capital of the world.

My time was limited in Mississippi, so my final destination was a night in Natchez, home to one of the largest  collection of Antebellum (“pre-Civil War”) mansions, with many open for tours. The next morning, I decided to forego the tours and simply bask in the enchanting ambiance of a Natchez park, hanging high on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River. I had a long and taxing day ahead of me; driving to New Orleans for a flight back to L.A. would be tiresome. I measured the distance on my map, and noticed I was close to both the Mississippi Delta and Vicksburg National Military Park. With more time allowed, I would have adored a ride further up the Natchez Trace Parkway  to the Vicksburg National Military Park. And then, further out, Highway 61 would take me to the holy grounds of the Mississippi Delta. Once home to Muddy Waters (McKinley Morganfield), and singer-songwriter and guitarist, Robert Johnson, considered since the 1960s as a maestro of Delta blues and an important influence on many rock musicians. Yes, they are gone today, but their spirit and music lives on.

The Mississippi Delta

About an hour south down Highway 61, you’ll find Clarksdale, Mississippi — better known as the Blues Crossroads. Legend has it that’s where Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil. Visit the Hopson Plantation and spend the night at the ShackUp Inn. The evenings are filled with blues at Ground Zero, Red’s or the Juke Joint Chapel. An amazing cultural and musical emersion you’ll want to experience again and again. Robert Nighthawk, Sunnyland Slim, James Cotton, Chester Burnett (Howlin’ Wolf) Bukka White, Sonny Boy Williamson II, Big Bill Broonzy, Carey Bell, Tommy Johnson, John Lee Hooker, Charley Patton, Son House… some made their names in Chicago, some made their names in the South, but all were born in Mississippi.

— T.E. Mattox, Traveling Boy’s Blues Aficionado

Birthplace of the Blues

Courtesy Visit the Delta

The Delta blues is one of the earliest styles of blues music. It originated in the Mississippi Delta, a region of the United States that stretches from north to south between Memphis, Tennessee, and Vicksburg, Mississippi, and from east to west between the Yazoo River and the Mississippi River. The Mississippi Delta is historically famous for its fertile soil and the poverty of its farm workers. More famous blues musicians have come from this area than any other region (or state for that matter) combined. Today, you can still feel that authentic vibe of Mississippi Delta blues history.

Vicksburg National Military Park (U.S. National Park Service)

Courtesy Vicksburg National Military Park

Gibraltar of the Confederacy

Confederate President Jefferson Davis remarked, “Vicksburg is the nail-head that holds the South’s two halves together.” At the start of the Civil War, Confederates controlled the Mississippi River south of Cairo, Illinois all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. With its valuable commercial port and railroad hub, the city was of tremendous importance. From points west of the Mississippi River, men, food, salt, and weapons, funneled through Mexico, made their way to Vicksburg and Confederate armies in the West.

The post The T-Boy Society of Film & Music’s Domestic Bucket List Destinations appeared first on Traveling Archive.

The T-Boy Society of Film & Music’s first poll for 2021 is dedicated to favorite domestic destinations: Cities, Towns and Sites. We felt this would be an appropriate theme as traveling to domestic destinations is slowly opening up.

You’ll find members’ selections to be deeply personal, reflective and educational; experiences that helped shape their lives. I know I did. Here’s looking for a spectacular year of travel.

Visit our past polls

— EB

Richard Carroll — T-Boy writer:

For me New Orleans is like a spirited island unto itself. Music swirls about the city in a marvelous mix of church gospel, the 12 bar blues, R&B, Zydeco, Cajun, Latin, and timeless New Orleans jazz, all captured throughout the day and night in Jackson Square, and free concerts in the St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest continuously operating Roman Catholic Cathedral in the country dating to 1720 when New Orleans was a Spanish colony. I feel the Square resembles Paris along the Seine or Prague in summer. Artists sit jauntily under umbrellas displaying their work as the ubiquitous street entertainers juggle, tap dance, play the tuba, strut and mime, and work one-liners off the audience. It’s such a blast to dance to Tuba Skinny or Superband or the Smoking Time Jazz Club, all New Orleans’ street jazz bands, usually performing on Royal St. with great passion.

I believe New Orleans is the most European of U.S. cities with convincing Caribbean influences hovering about. With the Mississippi River a stone’s throw away, the city has the feel of a vibrant 1860’s seaport town, where mystical voodoo shops flourish, and music, art, and dining are revered aspects of the city’s lifestyle. After numerous visits I discovered there are more than 50 historic locations in the Quarter, eight museums, tree-lined parks and aged churches with character. It’s exciting to feel that the Vieux Carre or French Quarter is a heady concoction of Paris, Trinidad, and the Caribbean spiced with a touch of other cultures including Italian, Spanish, Irish, Central America and Africa, and yet remains purely American.

I’ve observed that the Quarter and Bourbon Street are a setting for a youthful adult playground with a dress code beyond a fashion queen’s worst nightmare. College kids deep in their “Go Cups” sporting T-shirts, jeans, seven inch platform heels, and leopard skin mini-skirts roam the Quarter in a mesh-mash of rampaging hormones, and new best friends, though the excitement fades into the mists of the fast-moving Mississippi River when reality sets in.

With each visit I notice that New Orleanian’s have stubbornly refused to release their heritage and the city has retained a distinctive character that is reflected in their language, cuisine, music, architecture, neighborhoods, and celebrations. New Orleans with character to share is among my favorite domestic destinations for sure.

Stephen Brewer — T-Boy writer:

A Trip Up Steens Mountain, Oregon

According to the official count, only 12 people live in Frenchglen, way over in the southeastern corner of Oregon. I would have guessed that with so few neighbors for company, you’d be eager to chat with just about anyone who crossed your path. Then again, you’re probably pretty taciturn by nature if you choose to settle in such a remote spot.

Or so I’ve learned over the years. On my last visit I arrived just in time for dinner at the Frenchglen hotel (served at 6:30 sharp, no exceptions). The paneled, brightly lit, linoleum-floored room feels like a homey ranch kitchen, and heaping platters of baked chicken and roasted potatoes were set out on the long trestle tables. An aproned woman who seemed to be in charge of things came within earshot, so I informed her that a rather large rattlesnake was stretched out under a tree on the front lawn.

“Yep,” she said, “better eat those biscuits before they get cold.”

Another conversational gambit was no more productive.

“Think I could have another piece of that marionberry pie?”

“Nope.”

The other business in Frenchglen is a general store with a gas pump out front. This is where you top up the tank before heading out on the 50-mile-long gravel loop road that crosses the flank of Steens Mountain. It’s slow going up the rutted track, through steppes covered in aspen and mountain mahogany, but the leisurely pace makes it all the easier to enjoy the sights along the way. Cowboys on horseback and herds of grazing cattle appear as silhouettes against the horizon. A cloud of dust and the thud of hooves signals the fleeting appearance of a herd of wild horses. Pronghorn saunter onto the road, apparently  with no intention of moving along anytime soon and seemingly mindful that most of us have no idea how to get a huge, furry, fearsomely horned wild animal out of our way. A faded marker identifies a pretty little patch of greenery as Whorehouse Meadow, where enterprising women used to set up tents to service Basque and Irish shepherds. Just shy of 10,000 feet the road comes to a viewpoint. Far, far below, at the bottom of a sheer precipice, spreads the Alvord Desert, the dried-up bed of an ancient lake that’s now a glaring expanse of white, crinkled earth.

A little farther along another turnoff leads to the edge of Kiger Gorge, a cleft in the mountain half a mile deep and more than twice that in width. Looking over the snow-dusted furrows and folds I sensed a slight disturbance and turned my head to see an enormous eagle just over my shoulder, floating on some unseen current. I had time to notice a keen eye and the delicate ribbing of an enormous wing, then the creature was far away, high above the gorge.

I was still experiencing a rush of excitement when I sat down to dinner that night. “I saw an eagle,” I reported to the serving lady when she set a heaping platter of carved ham on the table. “So close I could almost touch it.”

“Yep,” she said. “The baked beans will be out in a minute.”

A little later, unsolicited, my friend brought me a second piece of pie, this time blueberry. I like to think she was helping me celebrate that magnificent creature soaring over those timeless landscapes.

Ed Boitano — T-Boy editor:

Chicago, IL: Isn’t Seattle a super city, Dad! This I proclaimed to Louis Boitano while driving through downtown Seattle as a young adolescent. It was a magical summer evening. Illuminated by neon and city lights, the fleet was in town and furloughed sailors marched past Pike Place Market and down First Avenue in search of unknown pleasures.

My father finally broke the news, Seattle is not a city, Eddie. Chicago is a city. He knew the BIG city well after receiving months of technical training at Chicago’s Navy Pier in preparation for his involvement in WW2.

Years later, I found myself riding the 1.79-mile Chicago Loop, with no intention of ever getting off. That is until a gaping hole in my stomach told me it was time for an exploration of the city’s delectable food scene. I was not conflicted upon the choice of my first meal, Uno Pizzeria, the birthplace of the deep-dish pizza. The following days included more deep-dish at Gino’s East, Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria and my personal favorite, Giordano’s, which offered a Northern Italian interpretation. A walk to the South Side led me to Little Italy for Italian beef and ice, with stops in between at vendor carts, selling the Chicago Dog or Chicago Red Hot, an all-beef frankfurter on a poppy seed bun, topped with mustard, chopped white onions, sweet pickle relish, a dill pickle spear, tomato slices and absolutely no catsup. After all, I did need to keep my strength up.

At night, entertainment consisted of the riveting blues clubs: Kingston Mines, B.L.U.E.S. and Buddy Guy’s Legends. By day, Millennium Park; the Magnificent Mile; the Art Institute of Chicago; the Museum of Science and Industry; Lincoln Park Zoo; and two major league baseball stadiums (if you live north of the Chicago River, your team is the Cubs at Wrigley Field, south the White Sox at the new Guaranteed Rate Field). Then, the unequivocal  highpoint of my Windy City experience; miles upon miles of Chicago’s architectural treasures witnessed on a Chicago Riverboat Tour. We can thank Mrs. O’Leary’s cow for that.  And all this with a BIG midwestern sense of politeness and hospitality.

Baltimore, MD: It’s pronounced Balamor or Balmer, explained Joel, my lifelong Baltimore friend. Then, beaming with pride, It’s also the birthplace of the Coddy — salted codfish cakes, cheaper than crab, served on two saltines with mustard; the Snowball — crushed ice and syrup served with liquid marsh mellow or ice cream; Chesapeake Blue Crabs, Fort McHenry and Babe Ruth. Joel’s insider tips were helpful as I prepared for my first trip to this Mid-Atlantic city, just south of the Mason-Dixon Line. I was a goner upon just setting my eyes on the now pristine Baltimore Inner Harbor. In the neighborhoods beyond, blocks of white marbled stepped rowhouses; Lexington Market, the oldest market in America circa 1782 and home of the Faidley crab cakes; and the retro-modern Oriole Park at Camden Yards, with my seat on the hotel room deck overlooking the baseball stadium. Baltimore loves its artist and personalities, and Edgar Allan Poe dominates much of the old city with his last house, now a museum, and the Baltimore Ravens football team naming itself after his narrative poem, “The Raven.” I was a tad disappointed with the city’s bus tour, but was enthralled upon discovering the Baltimore Harbor Taxi, with stops at the National Aquarium, a real working Little Italy, and the terraced waterfront homes of former maritime captains at Fells Point, dating from the 1790s. In its middle, the must-eat eclectic restaurant, Bertha’s Muscles. Though still shrouded in mystery, many believe Poe himself was found lying in a Fells Point gutter on the day of his death at Washington College Hospital. But, no one really knows for sure.

Natchez, Mississippi: You came all the way over here from Los Angeles California to see us… well, I better get you a good room, said the kind woman at the hotel’s front desk. Moments later on the elevator, I turned to the quiet teenage Africa-American bellhop. You certainly live in a beautiful city! His under the breath reply, Get me out of here. I took pause, realizing that a Yankee boy from the West Coast had much to learn about the duality of the polite bellhop’s Deep South City. Located high on the bluffs of the Mississippi River, Natchez  is home to more than one thousand structures that are listed on the National Register of Historic Places, with a number  of Antebellum (“pre-war,” “pre Civil War”) mansions with many open for tours. Characterized by neoclassical and Greek Revival architectural style, they were once the lavish dwellings of prosperous plantation owners, built by the hands of slave labor. I decided to take a pass on the tours and save the analysis of the city’s duality for later, and chose to simply lay around on the lawn in a quiet little park, basking in Natchez’s sublime ambience.

Seattle, WA: Kennedy was shot, whispered my grade school friend, Ricky Meyers. Many of us know the exact time and place when we first heard this horrific, almost incomprehensible news. My place was the sacred playground of Magnolia elementary school on Nov 22, 1963. Its holy grounds also offered a spectacular view of the building of the Space Needle. As a first-grader, each day at recess Ricky and I would rush out to the playground and watch this architectural wonder’s construction, marveling at its new growth and futuristic space age splendor. And with its completion for the 1962 Century 21 Exposition — Seattle World’s Fair, my little maritime town, seemingly hidden in the northwest corner of America, became a world-class city for the rest of the planet to see.

New Orleans, LA: Red beans and ricely yours, was how former Black Storyville resident Louis Armstrong would often end his letters, due to his passion for New Orleans’ traditional Monday night meal of red beans and rice. Passion and emotion  screams New Orleans with its unique fusion of Spanish and French Creole, Amerindian and Afro-Caribbean history and culture, music and architecture; relished by tourists and locals, who seem to live in the moment with plenty of free time. This includes its regional cuisine, a diverse mix of the culinary traditions of French Acadians, Spanish, Sicilians, African-Americans and Afro-Caribbean slaves, and AmerIndian nations. It’s hot and humid in Nola, and with the blending of local produce and seafood from the Gulf, its recognizable cuisine is justifiably known throughout the world. Personal favorites include  po’ boy and Italian muffuletta sandwiches, Gulf oysters fried or on the half-shell, boiled crawfish and seafood etouffée (smothered), jambalaya, gumbo and yes, Satchmo’s favorite, red beans and rice. But why on Mondays?  It’s wash day, of course, and the ovens and stoves needed space for boiling water.

T.E. Mattox — T-Boy writer:

1. Memphis — B.B.King said it best, ‘Memphis is the Home of the Blues.’ Spend an afternoon visiting the Blues Hall of Fame, and just across the street is the Civil Rights museum. Then take in the night life along Beale Street. The Rum Boogie Café and a hundred other jukes and bars will truly enchant. Sun Studio’s and the Memphis Recording Services, Stax Records… Gospel, R&B and Rock and Roll… Memphis is a musical wonderland.

2. About an hour south down Highway 61, you’ll find Clarksdale, Mississippi — better known as the Blues Crossroads. Legend has it that’s where Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil. Visit the Hopson Plantation and spend the night at the ShackUp Inn. The evenings are filled with blues at Ground Zero, Red’s or the Juke Joint Chapel. An amazing cultural and musical emersion you’ll want to experience again and again.

3. Julian, California — an easy drive east of San Diego. A step back in time. The local drugstore still serves egg creams like they had in the 1800s. You can still pan for gold and tour the depths of a gold mine. Julian Pies are the stuff of legends. A fun day for the whole family.

4. Old Town Temecula, California — Old Town Blues Club is known for its appearances of national and international artists and some of Southern California’s finest musicians. The boardwalk runs through the entire town and is lined by antique shops and restaurants for every appetite. Temecula vineyards provide world-class tastings. Guaranteed you’ll take home at least a bottle or two.

5. Austin, Texas — Where BBQ lives and the music scene thrives. A college town, Austin is known for its high energy clubs, bars and entertainment. The Continental Club, Antone’s and the Saxon Pub are but a few must-experiences. The party rarely stops so plan to have a little fun.

Allan Troy Smith — T-Boy writer & photographer:

A few years ago, I discovered the Quilieute Oceanside Resort located on the Quileute Nation, at La Push, Washington.

In the northwest corner of the United States, alongside the Pacific Ocean, it is one of the most peaceful, majestic ocean vacation sites there is in North America.

With an assortment of lodgings ranging from RV parking, cold-water A-frame cabins, small cabins with wood-burning stoves, to deluxe accommodations with stone fireplaces and floor-to-ceiling views of the mighty Pacific, there is something to please everyone.

No wi-fi ensures a completely relaxing stay. Huge pieces of driftwood litter the beach, which is covered with rounded stones of all sizes worn smooth by millennia of waves crashing on the shore.  The sunsets are memorable. I guarantee you will start thinking of your next visit as soon as you return home.

It’s a long drive from anywhere to get there, but well worth it. Although currently closed to visitors due to the pandemic, hopefully they will reopen soon. I have stayed there several times in different seasons, and it is always a wonderfully relaxing experience. I recommend a two-night stay because one is just not enough.

Richard Frisbie — T-Boy Writer:

I love to travel internationally (an impossibility this pandemic) and rarely travel domestically. Still, there are a few places in the US I go every year or so just to veg out.

A summer visit to Portsmouth New Hampshire and Southern Maine is a MUST. The seafood and seacoast are the main reasons, but family ties to the area round it out. I’ve even been known to take a day-trip there (8 hours round trip from New York’s Mid-Hudson Valley) just for a lobster roll and the rejuvenating smell of the salty sea air.

The exhilaration of walking the streets of Manhattan in all-weather day or night, soaking up the sights and smells while people watching, gets me on MetroNorth several times a year. I rarely spend the night in the city, unless an event makes me miss the last train, but the lure of a concert, a show, or an important museum opening is impossible to resist.

Finally, I love Ithaca and the Finger Lakes Region. That college town has so much action, and the natural beauty of the surrounding area begs to be viewed from a boat or a hiking trail. When that builds an appetite, I’m lucky, because the food scene is fantastic there, with an unlimited variety of great wines to wash down the creative dishes.

Mostly, though, I stay home. My town in the Mid-Hudson Valley is on almost every “Best Village”, “Most Charming Weekend Trips”, and “Best Destination” list every year. The Mid-Hudson Valley is beautiful, the art & culture scene is second only to Manhattan, and the overflow of chefs graduating from the Culinary Institute of America keeps this foodie very happy. I just stay here and let the world come to me.

Fyllis Hockman — T-Boy writer:

Key West, Florida

I don’t think Key West would ordinarily come to mind as a town worthy of being a domestic favorite but having just visited it is at the forefront of my mind.

Key West, Florida is more than a place. It is a spirit, a funky energy that enters your soul and takes residence in your worldview as well as your inner vision. A state of mind more than a city; a way of life more than a place to live. It’s a lifestyle, not a destination. All expressed in the absurdist poetry that is Key west, a language not spoken anywhere else in the country.

Renovated cigar factories share space with Victorian mansions laced with gingerbread trimming; upscale art galleries reside next to tacky t-shirt shops. Fashion, funk and frivolity define the town; art and shlock and whimsy co-exist on the same bar stool. And yes, those stools are there in abundance, many of which claim that Ernest Hemingway, the most famous Key West resident, occupied that seat as well. But even recognizing all this, I didn’t fully have a grasp on the essence of the town until I spotted several elderly old men playing Bocce ball. I asked another observer if lawn bowling is popular because many people of Italian descent live in Key West. “Oh no,” she chuckled. “It’s popular because you can play Bocce with one hand and hold a drink in the other.” I bet Hemingway loved Bocce ball. Welcome to Key West!

Rourke — Musician & composer:

Lower East Side/Greenwich Village, New York City — This would be home if I hadn’t married a small-town girl who hates traffic and noise.  There’s never a dull moment here.   I’ve spent many days trekking the neighborhood to see where Charlie faced off with Beg Bug Eddie (Pope of Greenwich Village), or where Johnny-Boy blew up a corner mailbox in (Mean Streets).And then there’s Katz, with corned beef and pastrami cured up to 30 days.

The Mission District, San Francisco — Easily the coolest area in S.F. (the Castro is a close 2nd).   There’s really no reason to leave the Mission District.  It has the best food, the coolest bars, the best cultural mix in the Bay area.

The National Mall, Washington D.C. — I’m a geek for politics and American history.   I remember posing for a picture with Barry Goldwater when I was eleven, and marching for the environment in 2017.   I remember going to Brad Sherman’s office to check-in for a tour of the Capitol and the son of a bitch didn’t even shake my hand.   I walked every inch of every museum to suck up every ounce of American pride until my feet bled.  And I would do it every year if I could.

Maine — It’s quiet up there.   That’s probably why George and Barbara loved it so much, that and the seafood.   And all the small little towns, each one with their own lobster shack, and many of those lobster shacks closed for the off-season.  Driving through Maine is about as American as it gets.  There’s no left or right, no red or blue, just good people living a good life.

Wailea, Maui — Yes, all the islands are a treasure in their own way, and there are other parts of Maui that are amazing too.   But sometimes in life you just want to curl up in the lap of luxury, drink Mai Tai’s all day, stare at the bluest ocean, watch the sunset, not lift a thought for anything else in the world, and do it all again the next day.

Brent Campbell — Musician & composer:

Big Domestic City — Chicago. I love NYC but Chicago has a very special place in America. It is the heart of America. Great museums, history, restaurants, and of course, the blues. Check out Buddy Guy’s club just south of the city and you will know what I am talking about.

Mid-size American city — Nashville. This mid-sized city has it all. Free music on every street. A great country music museum. Schedule a week in Nashville and it will take a while to stop smiling.

Small American city — Madison, WI. I call Madison small because they have no national teams (go Badgers). I have only visited on several summer weeklong stays, go to Madison any time. There is a constant energy in this place! The student union terrace is amazing in the summer. Dancing in the streets till dawn! Since 1983, Memorial Day the World’s Largest Brat Fest has sold more than 4 million brats to help raise almost $2 million to benefit 100+ local charities.

Tiny American city — Chelan, WA. Although the world has discovered Chelan, I can still claim it as a favorite. I went there often as a kid with my family. There was an old wooden roadhouse next to where we stayed. NW music ruled the night(s). It influenced my early exposure to music. Imagine sleeping on a cot next to the Sonics, the Wailers, the Kingsmen, etc, night after night.

Chelan’s climate is typical for Eastern Washington. Located behind the rainshadow of the Cascade Mountains, it receives a near-desert amount of precipitation each year.

Tony Chisholm — The Canadian Connection:

The Lost Boys

“The road to oblivion is easily traveled, the road back hard to follow.” — Chinese Proverb

A California Trip to Yosemite and Mono Lake

Chris, Steve and Andrew flew in from Canada and met up with me in San Francisco over a US Labour Day weekend  a few years ago to try some mountain biking at Mammoth Mountain and kayaking on Mono Lake.

From the coast of California, we traveled through the Central Valley and 105ºF temperatures then into the foothills of Yosemite National Park and spectacular mountain vistas.  Can four men with three maps get lost when there are only two roads?  Of course not, but our group of Lost Boy Canadians did manage to see an hour more of Yosemite then we had to.  In an effort to make up lost time, or just for the thrill of it, Chris managed to set the rental car brakes on fire flying down the mountains.   From the eastern side of Yosemite, Mammoth was only a short 20min drive away.  The Lost Boys had managed to make it from Toronto to exotic Mammoth Mountain is a mere 10 hours.

I was considered the experienced tribal elder, and immediately hauled the young braves to the best little restaurant in Mammoth for the local delicacy of “Chicken Fried Steak”.  A brick of Crisco would have been more nutritious and probably more tasty.

Friday, our first full day in California, the tribe set out to Mono Lake for a two hour kayak.  This was Steve’s and Chris’s first kayaking experience.  Mono Lake is a deceptively huge mountain lake laden with calcium bicarbonate.  The calcium forms into weird mineral towers of formations called “tufas.”  The only life in the lake was brine shrimp so thick that the water was cloudy with them.  The few seagulls and ospreys were their only visible predators. The lake is so base that the water is said to “eat your clothes”.

The four seasoned kayakers headed straight out to an island in the middle of the lake formed of mud that had been pushed up from the bottom.  Having not looked back to shore to take our bearings on the trip out, the four Lost Boys went a little off course on the way back (but definitely not lost).  The problem was that the lake was round and so was the island. After hitting shore, we decisively headed in the wrong direction until a solo paddler turned them around after several hours of wasted paddling. A two hour paddle had turned into a four hour paddle.

Chris’s custom paddling technique had managed to cover him in dried calcium.   Steve, who shared a double kayak with Andrew on the return trip, had a curious technique that managed to cover Andrew with calcium.  The calcium got into Andrew’s eyes and partially blinded him for the rest of the paddle.  Andrew was the group’s first casualty on our growing injury list.

Looking like guest stars from Gilligan’s Island, the Lost Boys dragged their sorry, stiff muscles back to their condo in Mammoth for their mountain bike adventure.

None of us will ever forget the strange landscape of Mono Lake.

Canadian Destinations

Weave Cleveland of British Columbia — Musician, composer and Travel Guys cinematographer:

If I ever pick up a visitor to Vancouver at the airport [YVR] and we have a little extra time, I will take them to discover this interesting gem. It is a dilapidated old fishing village just inside a little spit of land on the banks of the southernmost tributary of the Fraser River. The tide ebbs and flows and affects everything inside the little water channel.

In the 1890’s a group of Finnish people found their ideal spot. They cleared farming fields for the land owners and earned their access to easy fishing. By the 1920s people were taking to putting motors on their boats. There were no bridges to help make one’s way to Vancouver. For the Finn’s it was an entire day’s trip to go to Vancouver and back by boat.

As the century passed the Finn’s left and squatters moved in. They’re not all squatters, some are fairly old people who want some solitude. It has been a sometimes contentious issue as they have been provided electricity but they don’t pay taxes. This is the romantic story I have been told and I do not care if it is true or not. It is always a special singular adventure for people to come and see Finn Slough.

Though not as isolated as it once was it’s still a little hard to find which is why it is a special secret discovery.

The village developed without the organization of property boundaries, city ordinances, provincial regulations or any governing body.

It’s the length of a football field, it’s falling apart at the seams and it’s home for some people.

Ringo Boitano — T-Boy writer and feeling rather Canadian today:

In Montréal you will you hear it pronounced “bah- gal” and yes, they are different.  In contrast to the New York-style bagel, the Montréal bagel is smaller, thinner, sweeter and denser, with a larger hole, and always baked in a wood-fired oven. It contains malt, egg, and no salt, and is boiled in honey-sweetened water before being baked. You will also hear from locals that they are the best and most authentic bagels in world.  I once took a homeless man, a Montréal expat living in Vancouver, for coffee and asked if he would like a bagel, too. He declined, adding that they were not real bagels; only Montréal has real bagels. His favorites and now mine: the bagels from Montréal’s historic St.-Viateur Bagel and Fairmount Bagel.

Québec City was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985 and is the only walled city in North America. The best way to explore this historic city is to stroll its narrow, cobblestone streets lined with stone houses, cathedrals and cafes. The city itself is nothing less than a living museum. Québec City has embraced its history, which is reflected with more than 32 museums, exhibition halls and interpretation centers. Pedestrian streets are populated with local artisans and musicians in this city were 95% of the residents are French-speaking. A quick journey down the funicular leads you to Lower Québec, the birthplace of the city. A ferry ride on the St. Lawrence River is mandatory for stunning photo opportunities; in particular the Château Frontenac which towers over the city and is, in many respects, the iconic symbol of Québec City.

Cape Breton Highlands National Park consists of 366 square miles of magnificent highlands and rugged coastal wilderness. Established in 1936 as the first national park in the Atlantic Provinces, it is for many the highpoint of a journey to Nova Scotia. The Cabot Trail, named for Italian navigator and explorer, Giovanni Caboto, (John Cabot), runs through the park, offering seemingly endless hiking opportunities. On foot, I spotted whales, bald eagles and even a moose, swimming across a lake. From the car I enjoyed picturesque valleys and unforgettable vistas of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

On the other side of the park is the Acadian town of Chéticamp. La Société Saint-Pierre is a cultural center whose main objective is to preserve Acadian heritage in Cape Breton. The French-speaking Acadians pre-dated the arrival of the English, but most fled the area after the defeat of France by the British in the French and Indian War. Many headed down to Louisiana to an area now known as Acadiana, where the Acadian name evolved into Cajun. The center features traditional crafts and food items. I made a note that Acadian chowder, unlike New England chowder, consists of a clear broth.

Halifax’s Old Town Clock sits on a grassy bluff, overlooking its historic downtown and waterfront. Erected in 1800 for the British garrison at the Citadel, it is the most important symbol of Halifax’s rich historical past. As I rested on the lawn below the octagon tower, I could see a hybrid city of elegant 18th-century architecture alongside modern buildings of glass and steel. Groups of tourist, locals and laughing school children strolled past me, while ships glided in the distance on the world’s second largest natural harbor. As the September sun shone down, I realized I could sit there forever.

Vancouver Island is located in British Columbia, along Canada’s West Coast. It is a region renowned for spectacular coastlines, rolling fields, old-growth rainforests, quaint towns and seemingly unlimited recreational activities. The only thing better than hiking in a rain forest is following a trail that leads to an ocean beach, and that is what you will get on the East Sooke Coast Trail. The park features 3512 acres of natural and protected coastal landscape and is considered one of the premier day hikes in Canada. The trail leads you through a dark, second growth forest of Douglas Fir, Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock to a protected beach, lined with driftwood and massive boulders. There’s even a little waterfall that cascades onto the beach. This is a west coast wilderness experience unlike any other. The hike takes approximately six-hours roundtrip. Leave early and remember to pack a picnic lunch for the beach.

Back to Livin’ in the USA

James Boitano — T-Boy Writer:

Favorite Domestic Cities
San Francisco
New Orleans
Boston
Washington DC

Favorite Domestic Small Towns
Walla Walla, WA
Solvang, CA
Sitka, AK
Montpellier, VT

Favorite Domestic Sites
Steptoe Butte State Park, WA State
Shiloh National Battlefield, TN
The National Mall/Smithsonian Museums, Washington DC
Yellowstone NP, Wyoming

Raoul Pascual — T-Boy illustrator, webmaster:

California:

1. beaches
2. golf courses (I don’t normally go because I don’t play, but I would like to just walk around there)
3. parks
4. orchards
5. mountainous areas like Big Bear
6. swimming pools
7. camp grounds
8. vineyards
9. parades
10. fishing

Specific local destination:

1. Huntington Library
2. Disneyland
3. Knotts Berry Farm
4. Yosemite/ Redwood
5. San Francisco
6. Carlsbad
7. Hollywood
8. Palm Springs
9. Orange County Fair
10. Sea World
11. Universal Studios/Warner Bros Studios

Sandy Lorrigan — Former director of Sitka Tourism:

Valdez, Alaska

There are hidden small towns that are full of robust adventure and Valdez, Alaska is one heck of unforgettable experience! Boat tours, kayaking and halibut and salmon fishing excursions entice adventurers from around the world and Valdez should be on your bucket list for outdoor fun! Jagged glaciers, seals, sea lions, porpoises, and huge whales are just part of the exciting ocean scenery! Surrounded by lush, deep green forested mountains, Valdez is tucked at the end of a fjord and the destination can be a trek to reach. The population is just under 4,000, and with several campgrounds, hotels and bed and breakfasts in the downtown area, the variety of visitors compliments the friendliness of the locals. The sea walk that aligns the harbor is a magnet each afternoon as boats unload their day’s catches and skilled boat crew filet fish with fast precision. Valdez is a pristine playground!

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