Being in your early 50s in an interesting time. You tend to take stock of you life, look back at past accomplishments, past failures, and try your best to forget those dreams that fell by the wayside. In a minor fit of frustration, I texted a good friend who is also in his early fifties that "we should decide to live simply and retire." Living simply to me means cutting back considerably on material possessions, buy what you need rather than what you want, and focus more on the things that make you happy.
His reply to my text came the next morning where he posed the question: "where would you choose to live in the US? What about anywhere in the world." On the way to the bagel shop this morning, I gave his question a little thought and replied that I would purchase one of those micro-houses and plop it down near a college town for the vibe, amenities and admittedly, the sights. It has to be near a national park to satisfy my urge to get out and wander, and it must be fairly close to an airport with easy access to international connections so I can escape the familiarity of America. I gave less thought to the international part of his question because moving abroad would be too complicated on various levels. But I replied anyway that I would choose a small town an hour to two from London.
I've been an traditional suburbanite for my entire life calling the bottom right hand corner of the Commonwealth of Virginia home. And it's been a good ride. It's just that I've grown restless. While others my age may have their sights set on "free golf year-round at the Villages retirement community in Florida," I can't go that route. But then, do I want truly want the options I listed above? Probably requires more thought than 30 minutes at a bagel shop.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Worth the Investment
I admire people who have the passion to travel the world. Case in point, last Thursday I was in back to back meetings all day and had to escape the craziness just to catch up on a few things. So I packed up my laptop and my ever growing to-do list and made my way one block over to Red Star Tavern. I was approached by a friendly waiter named James, and we immediately began a conversation about craft beers, what he likes, the kind of beer he brews at home and how in Europe there are only a few beers to choose from when you at a restaurant or bar. As a high school senior, James traveled to Zurich, Rome and Lugano so he could relates to what I was talking about.
I told him about my travels to Germany and Switzerland and my plans to head to northern Europe later this summer. He began to tell me how he and his girlfriend were saving money for a trip to Thailand. As of now, they have $2,000 saved which should hopefully cover airfare. Best of all, he’s told me that they really didn’t have any definitive plans as to what they were going to do when they got there. James simply said, “We’ll figure that out when we get there.” In truth, this approach to travel is becoming more and rare what with over plan trip thanks to the internet. James’s plans for Thailand is what travel should be about: Exploration and taking oneself out of their comfort level.
When the bill came, the grand total for a couple of craft beers was a whopping $9.99. I gave him a twenty dollar tip with one caveat: He can’t spend that tip on crap. It needs to go in the “Thailand trip fund” and he must email me a picture of he and his girlfriend in while there. He’s immediate response was “holy crap.” A few minutes later, he dropped by and said he texted the receipt with tip to his girlfriend and she is so excited. Not excited as I’ll be when I get the picture of them together in Thailand.
I told him about my travels to Germany and Switzerland and my plans to head to northern Europe later this summer. He began to tell me how he and his girlfriend were saving money for a trip to Thailand. As of now, they have $2,000 saved which should hopefully cover airfare. Best of all, he’s told me that they really didn’t have any definitive plans as to what they were going to do when they got there. James simply said, “We’ll figure that out when we get there.” In truth, this approach to travel is becoming more and rare what with over plan trip thanks to the internet. James’s plans for Thailand is what travel should be about: Exploration and taking oneself out of their comfort level.
When the bill came, the grand total for a couple of craft beers was a whopping $9.99. I gave him a twenty dollar tip with one caveat: He can’t spend that tip on crap. It needs to go in the “Thailand trip fund” and he must email me a picture of he and his girlfriend in while there. He’s immediate response was “holy crap.” A few minutes later, he dropped by and said he texted the receipt with tip to his girlfriend and she is so excited. Not excited as I’ll be when I get the picture of them together in Thailand.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Biking the C&O Canal
The town of Cumberland, Maryland has seen better days. Once home to the second largest population in Maryland, its downtown area turned pedestrian-friendly mall features far too many darkened store fronts with “for lease” signs; victims of a troubled economy and an unpredictable future. It was the Saturday night before Thanksgiving, and the streets were quiet except for a handful of workers fumbling with a tangle of lights in preparation for a holiday parade next weekend. I was with my close friend and fellow adventurer Barry Lawson, and we were in search of a cold beer and a hot meal before beginning our three-day bike trek on the C & O Canal trail which scribbles its way 184.5 miles from Cumberland to the Georgetown section of Washington, D.C.
The “C” and “O” of the C&O Canal trail stand for Chesapeake and Ohio even though the trail doesn’t touch The Chesapeake Bay or the State of Ohio, for that matter. However, it does stretch from the Potomac River (which dumps into Chesapeake Bay) into the “west,” which at the time was about where Ohio is today. The trail follows the tow-path mules plodded along while pulling barges on the canal. This was the primary means of moving goods in this part of the country in the early 1800’s until the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad eventually put the canal out of use. Today, many sections of the canal are nothing more than a wide, overgrown ditch, while others look as though they are ready to be put back in commission at a moment’s notice.
For our journey, we plan to cover roughly 60 miles a day with overnight stays in Hancock, Maryland and Harpers Ferry, West Virginia before making our way to Arlington, Virginia some three miles from the canal’s southern terminus in Georgetown. On our backs, light packs. Under our butts, mountain bikes. And in front of us, 184.5 miles of trail and a low pressure system spitting showers.
The trail started mere pedal strokes from the hotel parking lot and was easy going, flat and empty. Before long we encountered mile marker “184,” and we were on our way to “0.” The upside to mile markers is they tell you where you are. The downside is they tell you how far you still have to go. Luckily today, our goal was mile post 124.4 at Hancock, Maryland or about 60 miles.
For the entire ride, the canal or what’s left of it was off to our left. During a twenty-five year during the early to mid-1800s, laborers sweated, dug, and likely cussed their through dirt and rock to build the canal. Seventy-four locks (24 with lock houses still standing) were strategically placed along the route. The locks made navigation easier because the terrain undulates, and it’s a 605 foot elevation gain from Georgetown in the east to Cumberland, Maryland in the west. The locks made towing a barge uphill, through water, by grumpy mules almost bearable. Almost.
The scenery remained the same for most of the day: a straight flat path under a dwindling canopy of hearty trees. Leaves crunched beneath our tires. Calm winds whispered; the sky, a concrete grey and heavy with moisture. We were alone in our thoughts. It was meditation on the move.
After an overnight stay at the quaint path-side River Run B&B in Hancock, we made our way another 63 miles south to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.
Day two followed close to I-70 where we were greeted with the constant hum of highway noise, but there were quite a few nice diversions along the way: At mile post 112, we coasted into Fort Frederick State Park whose stone fort served as Maryland’s frontier defense during the French and Indian War. Today, the park offers a boat launch, campsites, interpretive and educational programs. If you are up for a detour, there’s a 22 mile loop accessible at mile marker 76 which winds you through Antietam Battlefield. We skipped Antietam, because of a barrage of rain flanked us from the west.
We rode through pelting showers into Shepherdstown, WV and made our way to the Lost Dog Coffee Shop which we aptly renamed Soggy Biker Coffee Shop. We couldn’t enjoy the comfort of hot coffee, buttered scones and heat for long because it was pushing 4:30, and we still had twelve miles to go before Harpers Ferry. Approaching darkness and angry grumbles of thunder tried to persuade us to retreat back to the coffee shop. We ignored the warnings and slogged on.
I really looked forward to touring the historic town of Harpers Ferry which sits at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah. Lewis and Clark began their famed expedition here. It was also the site of three civil war battles and countless floods, and home to John Brown’s raid of 1859, which was an attempt by abolitionist to start a slave revolt by seizing the United States Arsenal there. All I saw were dark, wet streets poorly lit by my battery-starved bike light. The last mile was the hardest: a relentless hill made all the more challenging when soaking wet, cold, tired and hungry.
We found Laurel Lodge B & B and approached the front door looking like we spent the last four hours lost at sea, without a life raft. The proprietor happily greeted us at the door and wasn’t a bit surprised by our appearance. He kindly showed us to our room and told us put our wet clothes in a bag so he could launder them which took me by surprise. We found a nice Italian restaurant nearby then returned to hot tea, freshly made cookies, and folded laundry. I was tempted to end the trip right then and there.
Morning came too soon and it was still raining, so we procrastinated over coffee, cheese Danish, and spinach frittata - a first for me and I’m hooked.
To be honest, the last day was a blur. Evidently, a mild case of hypothermia can do that to you. The remaining stretch was 59 long and sloppy miles biking through leaf-strewn puddles the color and temperature of ice tea. Stopping was a double edge sword. We used the time to refuel and stretch, but any stop longer than five minutes resulted in chattering teeth and muscle cramps. Turns out, Gortex had its limits.
I envisioned our arrival in Georgetown to be under warm, autumn skies where we would pedal victoriously into some an outdoor café and celebrate our ride with frosty beers, calorie infused appetizers served by admiring waitresses. Instead it rained like hell as we dodged commuters and horn-honking cabbies for the last three miles to Arlington. I kept my head down and unsavory words to myself and just pedaled like I’ve been doing for the past three days. A torrential downpour practically knocked off our bikes as we crossed the Key Bridge into Arlington. It was almost laughable. Almost.
Finally we pulled into Barry’s driveway, proud and dripping from our achievements. Would I do it again? No. Because of the bad weather and repeated muscle cramps? No. Life is about new experiences, good or bad. It’s what fuels the soul and makes travel rewarding come rain or shine.
WHERE TO STAY:
Cumberland, Maryland: Fairfield Inn & Suites. 21 North Wineow Street. Visit Marriot.com. or call. 1-301-722-0340.The C&O canal is right out the back door. Rooms start at $109 per night. Free continental breakfast.
Hancock, Maryland: River Run B&B. 7 South Taney Street. For reservation call between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. EST - 301-678-6150 or email riverrunbnb@verizon.net. Overlooks the C&O Canal. Rooms start at $125 per night. www.riverrunbnb.com
Harpers Ferry, West Virginia: Laurel Lodge B&B. 844 East Ridge Street. For reservations call (304) 535-2886 or email :innkeeper@laurellodge.com . Rooms from $135 a night. www.laurellodge.com
The “C” and “O” of the C&O Canal trail stand for Chesapeake and Ohio even though the trail doesn’t touch The Chesapeake Bay or the State of Ohio, for that matter. However, it does stretch from the Potomac River (which dumps into Chesapeake Bay) into the “west,” which at the time was about where Ohio is today. The trail follows the tow-path mules plodded along while pulling barges on the canal. This was the primary means of moving goods in this part of the country in the early 1800’s until the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad eventually put the canal out of use. Today, many sections of the canal are nothing more than a wide, overgrown ditch, while others look as though they are ready to be put back in commission at a moment’s notice.
For our journey, we plan to cover roughly 60 miles a day with overnight stays in Hancock, Maryland and Harpers Ferry, West Virginia before making our way to Arlington, Virginia some three miles from the canal’s southern terminus in Georgetown. On our backs, light packs. Under our butts, mountain bikes. And in front of us, 184.5 miles of trail and a low pressure system spitting showers.
The trail started mere pedal strokes from the hotel parking lot and was easy going, flat and empty. Before long we encountered mile marker “184,” and we were on our way to “0.” The upside to mile markers is they tell you where you are. The downside is they tell you how far you still have to go. Luckily today, our goal was mile post 124.4 at Hancock, Maryland or about 60 miles.
For the entire ride, the canal or what’s left of it was off to our left. During a twenty-five year during the early to mid-1800s, laborers sweated, dug, and likely cussed their through dirt and rock to build the canal. Seventy-four locks (24 with lock houses still standing) were strategically placed along the route. The locks made navigation easier because the terrain undulates, and it’s a 605 foot elevation gain from Georgetown in the east to Cumberland, Maryland in the west. The locks made towing a barge uphill, through water, by grumpy mules almost bearable. Almost.
The scenery remained the same for most of the day: a straight flat path under a dwindling canopy of hearty trees. Leaves crunched beneath our tires. Calm winds whispered; the sky, a concrete grey and heavy with moisture. We were alone in our thoughts. It was meditation on the move.
After an overnight stay at the quaint path-side River Run B&B in Hancock, we made our way another 63 miles south to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.
Day two followed close to I-70 where we were greeted with the constant hum of highway noise, but there were quite a few nice diversions along the way: At mile post 112, we coasted into Fort Frederick State Park whose stone fort served as Maryland’s frontier defense during the French and Indian War. Today, the park offers a boat launch, campsites, interpretive and educational programs. If you are up for a detour, there’s a 22 mile loop accessible at mile marker 76 which winds you through Antietam Battlefield. We skipped Antietam, because of a barrage of rain flanked us from the west.
We rode through pelting showers into Shepherdstown, WV and made our way to the Lost Dog Coffee Shop which we aptly renamed Soggy Biker Coffee Shop. We couldn’t enjoy the comfort of hot coffee, buttered scones and heat for long because it was pushing 4:30, and we still had twelve miles to go before Harpers Ferry. Approaching darkness and angry grumbles of thunder tried to persuade us to retreat back to the coffee shop. We ignored the warnings and slogged on.
I really looked forward to touring the historic town of Harpers Ferry which sits at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah. Lewis and Clark began their famed expedition here. It was also the site of three civil war battles and countless floods, and home to John Brown’s raid of 1859, which was an attempt by abolitionist to start a slave revolt by seizing the United States Arsenal there. All I saw were dark, wet streets poorly lit by my battery-starved bike light. The last mile was the hardest: a relentless hill made all the more challenging when soaking wet, cold, tired and hungry.
We found Laurel Lodge B & B and approached the front door looking like we spent the last four hours lost at sea, without a life raft. The proprietor happily greeted us at the door and wasn’t a bit surprised by our appearance. He kindly showed us to our room and told us put our wet clothes in a bag so he could launder them which took me by surprise. We found a nice Italian restaurant nearby then returned to hot tea, freshly made cookies, and folded laundry. I was tempted to end the trip right then and there.
Morning came too soon and it was still raining, so we procrastinated over coffee, cheese Danish, and spinach frittata - a first for me and I’m hooked.
To be honest, the last day was a blur. Evidently, a mild case of hypothermia can do that to you. The remaining stretch was 59 long and sloppy miles biking through leaf-strewn puddles the color and temperature of ice tea. Stopping was a double edge sword. We used the time to refuel and stretch, but any stop longer than five minutes resulted in chattering teeth and muscle cramps. Turns out, Gortex had its limits.
I envisioned our arrival in Georgetown to be under warm, autumn skies where we would pedal victoriously into some an outdoor café and celebrate our ride with frosty beers, calorie infused appetizers served by admiring waitresses. Instead it rained like hell as we dodged commuters and horn-honking cabbies for the last three miles to Arlington. I kept my head down and unsavory words to myself and just pedaled like I’ve been doing for the past three days. A torrential downpour practically knocked off our bikes as we crossed the Key Bridge into Arlington. It was almost laughable. Almost.
Finally we pulled into Barry’s driveway, proud and dripping from our achievements. Would I do it again? No. Because of the bad weather and repeated muscle cramps? No. Life is about new experiences, good or bad. It’s what fuels the soul and makes travel rewarding come rain or shine.
WHERE TO STAY:
Cumberland, Maryland: Fairfield Inn & Suites. 21 North Wineow Street. Visit Marriot.com. or call. 1-301-722-0340.The C&O canal is right out the back door. Rooms start at $109 per night. Free continental breakfast.
Hancock, Maryland: River Run B&B. 7 South Taney Street. For reservation call between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. EST - 301-678-6150 or email riverrunbnb@verizon.net. Overlooks the C&O Canal. Rooms start at $125 per night. www.riverrunbnb.com
Harpers Ferry, West Virginia: Laurel Lodge B&B. 844 East Ridge Street. For reservations call (304) 535-2886 or email :innkeeper@laurellodge.com . Rooms from $135 a night. www.laurellodge.com
Monday, January 21, 2013
Reaching Higher Ground
All in all, there were five people in our climbing party: me, two talkative and middle-aged guys from California who regaled us with stories of climbing Mount Shasta -in what was always a snowstorm, my good friend Buddy, and a high maintenance woman named Sharice whose complaints increased with every 100 feet in elevation gain.
Kilmanjaro is a dormant volcano – thank goodness – and the highest point on the African continent, topping out at 19,341 feet. About 25,000 people attempt the climb each year and about half don’t make it because of varying degrees of altitude sickness where symptoms include nausea, severe headaches, dizziness, loss of appetite, shortness of breath, lack of sleep -- just to name a few.
Did I mention I paid good money for this?
Now it’s midnight, and we are assembled tent-side in the dark, dressed in our puffy jackets taking turns blinding each other with headlamps that would hopefully help us navigate the four thousand vertical feet to the summit which, according to Nick, will take about seven hours.
Ugh.
Hiking in the dark is kind of what you would expect: Kind of spooky; kind of exciting; at times, mesmerizing. Combine that with that fact there is half as much available oxygen than at sea level, and you have the makings for interesting evening.
This goes on from midnight until seven in the morning. Alas, the sun finally rises and reveals what looks very much like a lunar landscape, except for the patches of snow and receeding glaciers. The mood of the climbing party changes because we know we’re getting close. We stagger up to the rim of the volcano - Stella Point, elevation 18,800 ft – where we snack on Pringles and RedBull of all things, compliments of our guide. Would’ve been nice if he popped those open, say, maybe four days ago?
It takes bout another half hour to reach the summit where we gather for requisite photos and high-fives. It’s hard to imagine but all of Africa is below me, beneath the clouds. There’s no way to go any higher unless I climbed atop the congratulatory sign at the summit. I reached a new physical and an emotional high and am reminded that anything is possible if you put your mind to it. Now, it’s time to put my mind to getting off this mountain.
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