Category Archives: Travel

Tropical Fish in Rhode Island?

Posted on by

A brightly colored tropical fish with a white body, yellow fins, and bold black stripes swims near a textured coral-covered rock inside an aquarium.

🌊 A Warm‑Water Surprise in Little Rhody

Here’s a coastal New England tidbit that still amazes me. Every summer, the Gulf Stream sometimes swings close enough to the Rhode Island shoreline to deliver tropical fish into shallow coves. Yes — tropical fish. In Rhode Island!

Warm eddies peel off the Gulf Stream and drift north, carrying tiny Caribbean and Florida fish larvae with them. When one of these warm rings brushes the coast, those little travelers suddenly find themselves in New England. For a few weeks each summer, places like Jamestown’s protected coves can feel more like Key Largo than Narragansett Bay.

🌅 Beavertail: The Coastline I Did Know

I’ve spent time at Beavertail State Park, with its dramatic cliffs, pounding surf, and that steadfast lighthouse watching over the rocks. It’s one of the most striking pieces of coastline in Rhode Island — beautiful, rugged, and loud with the sound of water hitting stone.

But Beavertail is also a reminder of why I never made that tropical‑fish dive. The shoreline there is rough, exposed, and prone to rip currents. Even as a diver, I remember looking at those rocks and thinking, Where would you even get in safely? It’s a place built for sightseeing and storm watching, not for slipping quietly beneath the surface.

That contrast — the wildness of Beavertail versus the calm, sheltered coves just a few miles away — underscores how close I came to experiencing something extraordinary.

🤿 The Dive I Never Quite Made

Back in the 1970s, when I was scuba diving, the stories sounded almost unbelievable: a shallow, easy‑entry spot in Jamestown where warm water pooled and bright tropical fish appeared out of nowhere. Some divers even collected them for home aquariums, since the fish wouldn’t survive once fall temperatures dropped.

These tiny tropical visitors even have a nickname: Gulf Stream orphans. It’s a sweet, slightly melancholy name for fish that drift hundreds of miles off course and end up in Rhode Island for a short summer stay.

I planned that dive more than once. I wanted to see it for myself — to slip into warm water in New England and find a flash of Caribbean color swimming past. But work, schedules, and life kept interfering. It became one of those small regrets that stays with you: knowing there was a pocket of warm, tropical magic hiding in Rhode Island, and I never quite made it there.

 

🌡️ A Rare Event That’s Becoming More Common

And here’s the part that feels almost bittersweet: it’s more common now than it was back then. As the ocean has warmed, tropical and subtropical fish are appearing farther north, more frequently, and in greater numbers. What was once a rare Gulf Stream surprise has become a regular summer occurrence.

The ocean I dove in during the 1970s is not the same ocean we swim in today.

 

🌴 A Brief Visit From the Tropics

For a short moment each year, the Gulf Stream reaches out and brushes New England, leaving behind a handful of tropical fish as proof — a reminder of how dynamic, surprising, and ever‑changing our coastline really is. And every time I see the Beavertail lighthouse, I think of the dive I never took, and the warm‑water visitors I never met.

Beavertail Lighthouse on a calm day

 

 

The Whales of Massachusetts Bay

Posted on by
wo whales surface in open water, one lifting its tail as it dives, with a large cruise ship and a smaller boat in the distance.

Everyone knows the humpback whales. I’ve chased them from Massachusetts to Hawaii to Alaska. They’re the show‑stoppers — the whales that arch their backs, lift their flukes high, breach like acrobats, and bring their calves right alongside the boats. Sometimes it feels like they’re watching us instead of the other way around. But as dramatic as humpbacks are, they aren’t the first whales to arrive each year. Whale season is opened by a very special group.

The Right Whales Come First

Right whales were named because whalers once considered them the “right” whales to hunt. Their massive heads were filled with valuable whale oil, and they floated when killed — a grim history that left us with a name we still use today.

These whales begin arriving in Cape Cod Bay as early as November, though January is more typical. The wind off the bay is still cold. The days are gray and dreary. The bright summer skies are months away, and the whale‑watch boats are still in dry dock. If you want to see right whales, you watch from shore. No close‑ups. No flukes. Just patience, binoculars, and the hope of spotting that distinctive V‑shaped blow.

Right whales exhale through two blowholes, creating a perfect V in the air — just like we exhale through two nostrils. It’s one of the easiest ways to identify them from land.

A Critically Endangered Visitor

These whales are critically endangered, and seeing them arrive is always an exciting moment. The current estimate is fewer than 350 North Atlantic right whales left, with only around 70 breeding females. And here in Massachusetts, we sit right on their annual migration path.

My 2011 Right‑Whale Day

Back in 2011, on a cold and blustery April day, I took a ride to the Cape just for something to do. The rangers at the National Seashore welcome center were buzzing — reports were coming in that right whales were visible from shore. Of course I had to check it out.

Sure enough, they were traveling along the shoreline in twos and threes. I stood on the sand watching for the blows, watching one pair pass on and another arrive, like a conveyor belt of whales moving steadily along the coast. It’s not a trip I take every year, but I’m grateful I got to witness that spectacle at least once.

Then Come the Humpbacks

As the weather warms, the humpbacks begin to arrive. They bring their calves, and you often get to see a mother and baby traveling together. The calves don’t look small — except next to mom. She teaches her young how to breach, feed, and survive. These are the whales we follow with the whale‑watch fleet.

Breaching Whale

On a whale watch, you can almost always count on humpbacks, but you might also spot fin whales, minke whales, and if you’re very lucky, a sei whale.

If You’ve Never Been on a Whale Watch

• Bring a sweatshirt or hoodie — it gets chilly on the water

• Binoculars aren’t required, but they’re fun if you have them

• If you’re prone to motion sickness, take your Dramamine

• Watch for bubble feeding, breaching, and flipper slaps

• A naturalist will help identify whales and sea life

• You might see Atlantic white‑sided dolphins

• You may spot an ocean sunfish

• Lots of birds near the surface often means whales are feeding

• And more and more often these days, you may see a great white shark. The seal population has exploded, and the sharks follow their food. Sightings from whale‑watch boats do happen — usually just a fin slicing the surface or a quick shadow near a seal colony.

I find the ocean relaxing, sprinkled with moments of excitement when a whale appears.

Thar she blows.

 

From Sand Dunes to Shark Apps

Posted on by | 2 Comments

Old Cape Cod, just as Patti Page imagined it — dunes, salty air, and a quiet stretch of shoreline that still remembers how things used to be.

Old Cape Cod: From Sand Dunes to Shark Apps

If you’re fond of sand dunes and salty air,

Quaint little villages here and there…

You’re sure to fall in love with old Cape Cod.

Patti Page sang those words in 1957, and the song didn’t just become a hit — it reshaped the Cape’s identity. That gentle, dreamy portrait of a sleepy peninsula helped launch Cape Cod into the national imagination. Tourists followed, then developers, and before long those “quaint little villages” gave way to strip malls, big‑box stores, and summer traffic that can test the patience of a saint.

But one thing never changed: the beaches. Crowded or not, they’re still the Cape’s heartbeat. And if we take a little walk through time, we can see just how much this place has transformed since Patti Page made musical history.

A Peninsula Born of Ice

Cape Cod is a hooked, sandy arm stretching 65 miles into the Atlantic — the leftover handiwork of the last Ice Age. It’s narrow in some places, wide in others, bordered by Cape Cod Bay, Buzzards Bay, and the waters of Vineyard and Nantucket Sounds. For centuries, life here revolved around the sea.

Nantucket, in particular, was once the whaling capital of the world. From the late 1600s through the mid‑1800s, whaling was its lifeblood. But as regulations tightened and the industry declined, Nantucket reinvented itself as a quiet retreat for the wealthy — a transformation that still defines the island today.

Preserving the Cape

On the mainland, conservation took center stage. In 1961, the federal government created the Cape Cod National Seashore, protecting miles of shoreline from development. Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge followed, safeguarding critical habitat for birds and marine life.

Then came a turning point: In 1972, the Marine Mammal Protection Act granted federal protection to seals.

That’s when the Cape’s story took a dramatic turn.

The Return of the Great Whites

As the seal population exploded, so did interest from a very different kind of visitor. In 1975, the blockbuster Jaws gave the world a fictional taste of shark‑infused terror — but it also foreshadowed reality. Over the next few decades, great white sharks began returning to Cape waters in growing numbers, drawn by the booming seal colonies.

The shift became undeniable on September 15, 2018, when Arthur Medici, a 26‑year‑old from Revere, was fatally attacked while boogie boarding at Newcomb Hollow Beach. It was the first deadly shark attack in Massachusetts since 1936, and it marked the beginning of what many now call the new Cape Cod.

Today, great whites are summer regulars. We have:

  • Spotter planes and research boats
  • Electronic shark‑detection buoys
  • Beach warnings near seal haul‑outs
  • And yes — an app for that. The Sharktivity app lets you track shark sightings in real time.

Even whale‑watch boats report seeing sharks, and whenever a whale carcass washes ashore, you can bet the great whites will arrive shortly after.

And they’re not alone. In 2025, a fisherman off Mashpee reported the Cape’s first confirmed tiger shark sighting. Offshore charter captains share videos of sharks stealing fish right off the line. There’s even shark cage diving now — something once associated only with South Africa or Australia.

A Personal Note: The Cape’s Own Shark Celebrity

The Cape has its own celebrity in Dr. Greg Skomal, author, marine biologist, and the face of modern shark research in Massachusetts. He’s been a champion of the great white’s return and a pioneer in tagging and tracking them. You’ve probably seen him on Discovery Channel’s Shark Week, leaning over the bow of a boat with a tagging pole in hand.

I’ve had the privilege of meeting him and hearing several of his presentations. He’s charming, funny, and completely approachable — the kind of scientist who makes you feel like you’re part of the adventure. The sharks couldn’t ask for a better advocate.

Is This Still “Old Cape Cod”?

Somehow, the Cape feels less like Patti Page’s quiet seaside escape and more like a place where nature has reclaimed its throne. The dunes and salty air are still here, but the cast of characters has changed. Tourists still flock to the beaches — but so do apex predators.

Cape Cod isn’t sleepy anymore. It’s wild, unpredictable, and very much alive.

And maybe that’s part of its magic.

 

The Day Roswell Landed on the Map

Posted on by

 

“A glowing disc‑shaped UFO hovering in a dark, misty night sky, shining bright green beams of light onto the ground below.”

Seventy‑nine years ago today, on July 8, 1947, the Roswell Army Air Field casually announced they’d recovered a “flying disc.” Just tossed it into the news like someone found a lost hubcap in the desert.

By the next day, the Army said, “No no, wait — it was a weather balloon.” And that was the moment America collectively raised an eyebrow and said, “Sure it was.”

That tiny headline didn’t just make the local paper — it put Roswell, New Mexico on the map. Before the “crash,” it was a quiet desert town. After the “crash,” it became the Alien Capital of the World, complete with:

  • UFO museums
  • alien‑themed diners
  • green‑skinned mascots
  • and an annual festival that looks like Comic‑Con met Area 51

All because someone typed “flying disc” before their morning coffee.

The whole modern UFO craze — the sightings, the documentaries, the late‑night radio callers, the government cover‑up theories — traces back to that one moment in 1947.

And decades later, The X‑Files summed up the entire Roswell vibe with its iconic slogan:

“I want to believe.”

Roswell still does. Do you?

 

Tours, Guides and Travel as We Age

Posted on by | 4 Comments

endangered gray wolf

Checking In on the Wolf Hollow Plan

Hi All, Just a quick update on the Wolf Hollow adventure. I’ve been communicating with the Boston branch of GoWithGuide, and I now have contact information for three local guides. I just need to reach out and see what they have to say about a trip to Wolf Hollow.

Rethinking How I Travel

I’ve been thinking a lot about tours and guides. As an older person, I’ve sort of come to the conclusion that if I get back to traveling, it will probably be with senior tours or groups — and I have mixed feelings about that.

I’ve always liked exploring on my own. I don’t enjoy those organized “cattle call” tours where the guide marches you through a set itinerary. If there’s something you want to see and it’s not on the list, too bad. And I’m not sure how much wandering you can really do on a tightly scheduled tour. You know me — I like getting photos that are a little different from the typical tourist shots.

A Great Experience With a Small Guided Tour

We used a tour guide when we went to Pearl Harbor. It wasn’t GoWithGuide — I didn’t know about them at the time — but it was a small group. My sister and I were dubbed “the Sisters.” Our guide entertained us with stories about the morning of the raid and pointed out where the Japanese planes flew in. It gave us a great background before we reached the memorial.

Once we arrived, he turned us loose with a meeting place and a time, so we had plenty of freedom.

Afterward, he even offered to take us to a food truck the locals used. That was fantastic — and an experience we never would have had without a guide.

Why GoWithGuide Caught My Attention

GoWithGuide isn’t just a U.S. company. They’re international. One country I’d love to visit is Ireland, but I always assumed I’d either be stuck on a group tour or forced to learn to drive on the wrong side of the road. Ireland is famous for its tiny, winding roads, and that alone put me off.

Knowing I could have a personalized tour with a local guide opens up the possibilities and makes the idea so much more appealing.

Learn more about GoWithGuide’s personalized tours

It feels like the perfect solution for someone like me — someone who wants the freedom to wander but doesn’t know the territory.

What Comes Next

So next step: asking those Boston guides whether they’re brave enough to take me to Wolf Hollow. If they say yes, it’ll be the perfect chance to try out this whole “personalized tour” idea and see if it really is the right fit for someone like me who loves to wander but doesn’t know the territory.

Affiliate Disclosure

This post contains affiliate links. If you book a tour through my link, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. As always, I only share services I genuinely think you’ll enjoy.