Category Archives: Travel

Hot Time Summer in the City

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Swan boat cruising the Public Garden lagoon on a sunny day, passing under the little suspension bridge everyone loves to photograph.

Summer Finally Arrives in Massachusetts

The weather is beautiful. Summer is finally here. Massachusetts has finally shaken off the dreary, rain‑filled days, and everything feels fresh again. The Public Garden is in bloom, the trees are lush, and the Swan Boats are once again cruising the lagoon. It’s the perfect time to explore the city.

Planning a Trip to Wolf Hollow Sanctuary

I’m trying to arrange a visit to Wolf Hollow Sanctuary in Ipswich. That’s a bit of a hike from Taunton and may turn into a car‑rental day, but I’m exploring my options.

One avenue I’m checking out is a Custom Tour with GoWithGuide US — which is exactly what I’d need for a Wolf Hollow trip. I checked the web page for their Boston Guides and they have options but nothing like Wolf Hollow. I’ve sent off an inquiry and will keep you posted on what I find out.

My Long Quest to Photograph a Wolf

I first heard about Wolf Hollow a few years ago when I was on a photography quest for wild animals. I’d photographed deer, bear, moose, and of course the little guys — chipmunks and squirrels. In Wyoming I added pronghorn and bison to my collection. South Dakota gave me those adorable prairie dogs.

 

After much chasing and tracking, I stumbled onto the elk migration (again in Wyoming) and got one of my favorite photos.

A pair of Bull elk

 

But I never even spotted a wolf. While in Yellowstone, I always seemed to be one day behind the pack.

The New Jersey Detour That Never Happened

Eventually I heard about Lakota Wolf Sanctuary in New Jersey of all places and started planning an overnight trip: drive down one day, take a photography tour the next, then drive back to Boston.

It never happened. Severe winter storms shut down the sanctuary, and after several attempts the trip got pushed to the back burner — where it stayed.

Discovering Wolf Hollow in My Own Backyard

Then someone told me about Wolf Hollow — a sanctuary right in my own backyard! I actually drove up there once and found it, but they were closed. Always do your homework — check times and days so you aren’t disappointed.

Then life got busy, COVID hit, and I just never made it back.

Time to Try Again

Now feels like the right time to look into it again. This is how my trips and explorations usually start: slowly, with a spark of curiosity, and sometimes they take forever to get off the ground… but eventually, I get there.

I’ll keep you posted on the progress — if any — on this adventure.

Affiliate links are included in this post. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission. Thank you for helping keep my adventures (and this blog!) going strong.

 

A Wee Mallard in the Tartan Army

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Meanwhile in the heart of the Boston Public Garden, Mrs. Mallard becomes  The Tartan Army’s newest recruit! Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack and Quack join the festivities.

 

Even Mrs. Mallard and her brood have joined the Scottish takeover of Boston. Honestly, could it be any other way?

Bronze Mrs. Mallard statue in the Public Garden wearing a traffic cone during the Scottish festivities.

In True Scottish Fashion Mrs. Mallard Donned a cone!

But don’t look now — the Tartan Army has a new recruit. Mrs. Mallard heard the bagpipes and said, ‘Aye, I’m in.’

 

When a Screensaver Sends You Back to Hawaii

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A Morning Memory Triggered by the Koʻolau Mountains

A Morning Spark

It’s amazing where inspiration comes from. I opened my computer this morning to a breathtaking image — an aerial view I recognized instantly. Those dramatic ridges could only belong to the Koʻolau Mountain Range on Oʻahu.

Yes, I know. You already know I love Hawaii. But here’s the twist: I’ve only been to Oʻahu once. My heart belongs first to the Big Island, then to Maui. Kauaʻi is still waiting for me.

Before I get to the mountains, here are my quick impressions of the four most‑visited islands.

My Take on the Four Big Islands

  • The Big Island — Kīlauea, volcanic energy, and Parker Ranch. My favorite.
  • Maui (The Valley Isle) — My nickname: #1 Tourist Stop. Lots to do, lots to see, and plenty of upscale accommodations.
  • Oʻahu (The Gathering Place) — Chaotic, urban, crowded. Great attractions, but one visit was enough for me. Pearl Harbor is a must.
  • Kauaʻi (The Garden Isle) — Said to be the most traditional and the most natural. I haven’t been yet, but everyone insists I’ll love it.

The Mountains That Look Carved by a Giant Hand

Back to that screensaver photo.
The Koʻolau Mountains run along the eastern edge of Oʻahu — the eroded remains of a single shield volcano. Thirty‑four miles of ridges and deep green troughs.

To me, it looks like a giant hand dragged its fingers down the mountainside, leaving those dramatic grooves behind. Once you see it, you never forget it.

The Wind, the Cliffs, and a Battle in the Clouds

My sister and I explored this area on our trip in 2007. We started at Nuʻuanu Pali, on the recommendation of our Pearl Harbor guide. I think he hoped we’d hire him to take us, but we couldn’t coordinate schedules, so off we went on our own.

“Pali” means cliff, and Nuʻuanu is the site of a brutal turning point in Hawaiian history. During his campaign to unite the islands, King Kamehameha I drove the opposing warriors up the cliffs until many fell — or were forced — over the edge. Storyboards at the lookout help visitors understand the gravity of what happened there.

From the windy heights of Nuʻuanu Pali, the view opens to a deep green valley and the rugged Koʻolau Mountains, with Honolulu and the shimmering coastline far beyond.

And the trade winds? They’re no joke. The same winds that keep Hawaii comfortable on hot days become fierce at the Pali. We laughed ourselves silly trying to walk without being blown sideways. Crawling back up the path didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Ghost Crabs, Teasing Birds, and Chinaman’s Hat

After leaving the lookout, we drove down to the base of the mountain and stopped at a small beach park. We watched ghost crabs — tiny, transparent little things — scuttle across the sand and vanish into holes like magic.

The park was full of those silly white birds (cattle egrets), and they were the ultimate tease. Every time I tried to get a close‑up photo, they stepped just out of reach. They’ve clearly been tormenting tourists for years.

A more cooperative subject was Chinaman’s Hat (Mokoliʻi), the little cone‑shaped island sitting just offshore in Kāneʻohe Bay. But the real star of the park was the mountain itself, those unforgettable “finger marks” rising behind us.

If You Go to Oʻahu…

Step away from Waikīkī and the North Shore waves for a bit.
Go feel the force of the trade winds at the Pali.
Stand before the Koʻolau cliffs and let your imagination run wild.

Close your eyes and you might even hear echoes of that long‑ago battle — a true turning point in Hawaii’s history.

 

Yes , There is a Father Road

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The Father Road: America’s First Coast‑to‑Coast Highway

After writing about Route 66 — the famous Mother Road — in honor of its 100th anniversary, I stumbled onto something I’d never heard of before: the Father Road. And once I learned what it was, I knew it deserved its own post. Before Route 66 ever rolled across the American Southwest, there was another road that connected the country from coast to coast and changed the way Americans traveled. Meet the Lincoln Highway, the original transcontinental highway and the true “Father Road” of America.

Most people have never heard of it, but without the Father Road, there would be no Mother Road at all.

Before Route 66, There Was the Lincoln Highway

The Lincoln Highway was established in 1913, making it the very first road to stretch all the way across the United States. It ran from Times Square in New York City to Lincoln Park in San Francisco, covering roughly 3,400 miles.

At a time when most roads were still dirt or gravel, the idea of driving from coast to coast sounded like something out of a dream. But the Lincoln Highway made it possible. It gave Americans their first taste of long‑distance automobile travel and stitched the country together in a brand‑new way.

If Route 66 is the Mother Road, the Lincoln Highway is absolutely the Father Road — older, steadier, and the one who paved the way (literally) for everything that followed.

The beginning of the Father Road, aka Lincoln Highway , in Times Square

A Road Built on Ambition and Optimism

Unlike modern highways, the Lincoln Highway wasn’t created by the government. It was the brainchild of early automobile pioneers who believed the future belonged to the car. They wanted a single, continuous route that would encourage Americans to explore their own country.

Towns along the proposed route fought to be included. Being on the Lincoln Highway meant travelers, tourists, and money — a lifeline for small communities.

The road passed through:

  • New York
  • New Jersey
  • Pennsylvania
  • Ohio
  • Indiana
  • Illinois
  • Iowa
  • Nebraska
  • Wyoming
  • Utah
  • Nevada
  • California

It was a true coast‑to‑coast adventure.

📍 Map of the Lincoln Highway

Lincoln Highway to Donner Pass

What the Father Road Left Behind

Much of the original Lincoln Highway eventually became U.S. Route 30, though pieces of the old road still exist — sometimes marked, sometimes forgotten, sometimes hiding in plain sight.

Its legacy is enormous:

  • It inspired the idea of national highways
  • It encouraged tourism and cross‑country travel
  • It helped shape the American love affair with the open road

Without the Father Road, there would be no Mother Road

 

Why the Father Road Belongs Beside Route 66

Route 66 gets the neon lights, the diners, the postcards, and the nostalgia.
The Lincoln Highway gets the origin story — the first bold attempt to connect America by car.

If Route 66 is the road we remember, the Lincoln Highway is the road that made everything possible.

And now that I know about it, I think it deserves its own moment in the spotlight.

Lincoln Highway – brick section – Nebraska

 

World Ocean Day: The Night I Met the Mantas

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🌊A Morning Prompt That Sparked a MemoryManta Ray Adventure. Snorkle with the giants in Hawaii

A little morning card on my screen recently told me to “Celebrate World Oceanic Day.” Not a real holiday, not even close to June, but it nudged loose one of my favorite memories from the Big Island — the night I went snorkeling with manta rays. And if there’s ever a story worthy of World Ocean Day, it’s this one.

Waiting Out the Rain

It had started to rain while we waited to head out, the kind of soft Hawaiian drizzle that feels more like a suggestion than weather. One of the other snorkelers asked the dive master if we’d still be going out “if it rained.” I remember blinking at her. We were about to jump into the Pacific Ocean — getting wet was sort of the point.

Dusk on the Big Island

The boat drifted near shore as dusk settled in. We could see the lights from the Marriott stretching across the water, long gold streaks shimmering toward us as the sky deepened from blue to indigo. The air was warm, the kind of tropical warmth that wraps around you like a shawl. The crew moved with practiced ease, lowering a huge square frame of lights into the water. The glow sank beneath the surface like a stage being lit from below. The lights attract the plankton, and the plankton attract the mantas — a whole food chain choreographed for our front‑row seats.

Into the Water

With the light frame in place, we splashed in — one by one — each snorkeler taking hold of the frame and settling into an easy dead man’s float. The ocean was warm against my skin, and I listened to the subtle lapping of the waves as I drifted, face down, breathing slow and steady through my snorkel. The night felt soft as velvet, the kind of darkness that holds you rather than hides you.

When the Mantas Appeared

And then… there they were.

They came in silently, emerging from the darkness like ghosts with wings. Enormous, graceful, otherworldly. They moved with a kind of slow, deliberate elegance, sweeping in wide arcs beneath us. They were huge — impossibly huge — and apparently just as curious about us as we were about them. I had to remind myself to breathe. It felt like watching an underwater ballet, choreographed by creatures who had been dancing long before humans ever arrived on the islands.

A Moment I’ll Never Forget

Then came the moment we were all hoping for. One of those beautiful creatures rose from below and swam right up the length of my body, its wings brushing the water inches from my skin. As it reached my collarbone, it rolled into a perfect backflip, white belly glowing in the light, before drifting away again into the dark. For a heartbeat, it felt like we were sharing the same pulse.

A Glimpse of the Magic

Since I didn’t have an underwater camera, here’s a video that captures the magic better than I ever could.

Why World Ocean Day Matters

If you’ve never floated in the dark while a manta ray the size of a dining room table glides past your face, trust me — the ocean has a way of making you feel small in the best possible way.

If You Ever Find Yourself on the Big Island

If you ever find yourself on the Big Island of Hawaii, take the plunge. The manta experience is one you’ll remember for a lifetime.