I love logging in each morning to see what gorgeous picture Bing has dropped onto my desktop. They never disappoint. But today’s image stopped me in my tracks — a green sea turtle gliding through clear blue water.
Why so special? Because I actually swam with them in Hawaii. Their eyes are beautiful, and I know it sounds silly, but I think their little beaked faces are just adorable. Just saying.
snuba at Turtletown 2020
Funny how a desktop picture can bring back a whole wave of happiness.
For years I chased humpback whales up and down the New England coast. This was no small feat for someone with a tendency toward seasickness, but the call of the ocean—and the promise of seeing those magnificent creatures—was stronger than my stomach. One of my earliest and most unforgettable trips was out of Gloucester, heading toward Stellwagen Bank. I was new to Massachusetts then, freshly transplanted from New York and convinced I wouldn’t be here long. So I crammed every adventure I could into those first months.
Now, nearly fifty years later, I’m still here. And that Cape Ann whale watch remains one of the highlights of my early Massachusetts life.
That day, we found ourselves surrounded by humpbacks bubble‑net feeding—so close to the boat you felt like you could reach out and touch them. (We didn’t, of course.) For years afterward, people insisted that New England humpbacks don’t bubble‑net feed. I always love when nature proves the experts wrong. It’s a reminder of how much we’ve learned—and how much we’re still learning.
I tried a few whale watches out of Boston next. Bigger boats, higher decks, great views—fun, but nothing quite matched the raw magic of that Cape Ann trip.
Eventually I migrated south to Plymouth and became a regular on Captain John’s Boats. Those summer trips became a ritual. It was on one of those outings that I photographed my first breaching whale—a moment that still ranks among my favorite memories.
My whale watching didn’t stop at New England. I found the home of my heart in Hawaii and made annual February trips for years. February is peak migration season, and I often watched whales right from the breakfast table.
I joined the Pacific Whale Foundation and went on their photography expeditions. That’s where I captured my first baby‑whale breach and listened to whale songs through hydrophones dropped over the side of the boat. Pure magic.
It’s just a baby
Then there was Alaska—nothing warm or tropical about that trip. It was cold, wet, raw, and absolutely worth it. The boat was smaller, the whales cruised close to the surface, and we always knew where to look when we heard the whoosh of their breath.
Alaska offers something New England and Hawaii don’t: variety. Humpbacks, orcas, gray whales, belugas—and if luck is really on your side, maybe even a narwhal or a sperm whale. Spring can be beautiful there, but in 2013 we went in May, which turned out to be too early for sunshine. My advice? Aim for June or later.
No matter where you go—New England, Hawaii, Alaska—whales are magnificent creatures deserving of every conservation effort we can muster. Their importance is so universal that even the Star Trek universe built a whole movie around saving them. (Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, for fellow fans.)
If the Federation thinks whales are worth saving, who am I to argue?
Live long and prosper.
When we talk about travel—or read the glossy blogs and glowing travelogues—we mostly hear how wonderful a place is. Sure, someone might mention bad weather or a disappointing meal, but the overall tone is usually sunshine and rainbows. I’m guilty of it myself. Except for my Road to Hana misadventure, I sing Hawaii’s praises every chance I get.
But every now and then, a little reality check is healthy.
For nearly twenty years, I traveled through my timeshare. It was one of the hardest things to give up when
I retired, but the maintenance fees just didn’t fit my fixed income. While I had it, though? I traveled in style. Beautiful accommodations, attentive staff, and a sense of security—especially important because I often traveled alone.
Timeshares get a bad rap, and yes, getting out of one is neither painless nor easy. But if I ever hit the lottery, I’d consider it again. And here’s a tip: you can sometimes get the same perks without ownership by checking Redweek.com, where owners rent out their weeks to offset costs.
Even with all that comfort, not every trip felt safe. New Orleans is the one that stands out. Friends raved about the energy, the food, the parades—even outside Mardi Gras season. What they didn’t mention was the grime, the chaos, and the aggressive hustlers who thought nothing of following you down the street. I never felt unsafe anywhere else quite like I did there.
Other cities come with their own cautions. Detroit requires you to be mindful of the neighborhood you wander into. St. Louis consistently ranks among the most violent cities in the country. Oakland has seen a rise in break‑ins and street crime.
It’s not just cities. Even the most iconic outdoor destinations can be dangerous if you’re unprepared. Death Valley, for example, is one of the deadliest national parks due to extreme heat and dehydration risks.
Yellowstone has dangers from geysers to wildlife. If you have any doubt read about my encounter with the Bison of Yellowstone . I was sure I was going to be flattened to roadkill before I was through.
On the South Rim, Grand Canyon 2008
I’m not saying you should stay home. Travel is still one of the most exciting, enriching things you can do. But a bit of research before you go—and a few simple precautions—can make the difference between a great adventure and a stressful one. Know the risks, plan accordingly, and you’ll come home with memories worth keeping.
So go forth, intrepid adventurer, and make memories worth keeping… safely, of course.
Alaska 2013
Thank you to everyone who showered me with birthday wishes. Somehow, I’ve managed to make it to the three‑quarter‑century mark. Seventy‑five. It looks ancient on paper, but honestly? Other than a few arthritic grumbles, I feel pretty darn good for an “old babe.”
What really gets me every year is how many people take the time to reach out. For 364 days, I wander around thinking I’m just living my quiet little life. Then my birthday rolls in—usually accompanied by a nor’easter—and suddenly my inbox explodes like I’m George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life. I never realize how many lives I’ve brushed up against until that one day when everyone pops out of the woodwork. It’s humbling, heartwarming, and a little overwhelming in the best way.
This year, even Hawaii decided to join the celebration. And if you’ve been following this space for any length of time, you already know I can wax poetic about Hawaii until someone gently pries the keyboard from my hands. Especially when it comes to my favorite diva of the Pacific: Kilauea.
My very first trip to the islands was to the Big Island, and I spent a full day exploring Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park. I drove Chain of Craters Road, peered into the caldera from Volcano House, and saw my first plume of vog where lava met the sea. Kilauea was quiet that trip—too quiet—but I was hooked. I wanted to see an eruption with my own eyes.
Since then, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve returned to Hawaii. Oahu? Check. Pearl Harbor? Absolutely. Maui? More times than I can count. The Big Island? A repeat favorite. Kauai? Not yet—but hey, I may be 75, but I’m not done adventuring.
Volcanoes National Park is always on my itinerary, and I’ve had some close calls. One year, Kilauea started huffing and puffing while I was on a park tour. Rangers and visitors lined up at the observatory, watching the lava lake glow as darkness fell. Little fountains teased us from the caldera. The excitement was electric.
And then—because this is my life—nothing big happened. My tour bus rolled away, Kilauea still grumbling but holding back. The next day, I flew home… and she blew her top while I was somewhere over the Pacific. I watched the eruption on the news, muttering “Really?” at the screen.
Which brings me to this year. My birthday. My big 75. And what does Pele do? She sends me a present.
Episode 42 of Kilauea’s eruption began at 1:50 p.m. HST—on my birthday. High lava fountains shot into the sky, with bursts reaching 1,000 to 1,200 feet from the north vent and 800 to 1,000 feet from the south vent. A full‑blown, fiery celebration in my honor.
I may not have been there in person, but it’s the thought that counts. And honestly? As birthday surprises go, a volcanic eruption is hard to top.
What a spectacular way to kick off my next lap around the sun.
As I wrap up this three-part wander through the “40 Trips Every Woman Should Take Before She Dies” list, I’m still amazed at how many of these adventures I’ve already checked off—or at least dreamed about. This last batch brings back some big memories and sparks a few new ideas too.
Grand Canyon
We’ve talked about the Grand Canyon before, but honestly, it deserves another mention. If I were ranking this list, it would be sitting proudly at #1. I’ve been twice, and the second visit was every bit as jaw-dropping as the first. Even with my adrenaline-junky streak, I still have zero desire to take that mule ride into the canyon. Watching from the rim suits me just fine—plenty of awe without the saddle sores.
I’ve spent many weekends in Las Vegas, but not for the reasons most people go. The casinos don’t tempt me at all, but the shows? Absolutely. Still, if I return, I’d rather trade the neon lights for the fiery glow of Valley of Fire State Park. Those red sandstone formations and ancient petroglyphs are calling my name. And if you’re already in the area, a side trip to Hoover Dam is well worth the time. I’ve done it, and it’s every bit as impressive as the postcards suggest.
Living in Taunton, MA puts me right in the heart of leaf-peeping country, so this one feels like home. One of my favorite fall memories is riding the Kancamagus Highway on the back of my brother’s motorcycle—no car windows, no distractions, just pure color exploding around every curve. The list also recommends the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon, and honestly, that would be spectacular in any season.
Ah, Route 66—the Mother Road. Not all of it survives today, but the stretch I explored in Arizona near the Grand Canyon still carries that nostalgic charm. Vintage neon signs, old-school diners, quirky souvenir shops… it’s a living postcard from America’s road‑tripping heyday. You can almost hear the hum of classic cars cruising by.
Wine-tasting tours from California to France didn’t make my personal list—I’m not much of a drinker. And the shopping trips to NYC or the Mall of America? Also not my style.
I’ve been to New York City, but I went for the history and the sights: Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the Museum of Natural History… and of course, a Broadway show. And ever since 9/11, no trip to the city feels complete without visiting the 9/11 Memorial. It’s a powerful, solemn place that reminds you how deeply the city—and the world—was changed.
If I were adding to this list, I’d say any relaxing Hawaii trip should include a stop at Pearl Harbor. It’s a beautiful, solemn memorial and a powerful reminder of the sacrifices made by so many.
So now I’m curious—what do you think.
Which trips did these professional travel writers overlook. Check out the full list here
Do you have a favorite getaway that always calls you back.
And how many of their 40 have you crossed off.