TRAVEL TRIBUTES #1: make a blanket

Want to make this summer's trip unforgettable?  Create a blanket of your trip!
















Purchase those sew-on badges as you travel --
places you visit like aquariums or trains










towns you stay at








funny events or festivals that you participate in (here was our Groundhog Day badge)
(NOTE:  Yes, people actually DO participate in Groundhog Day.  It's not just a story for the movies!  There really is a prognosticator, you can actually meet Phil the Groundhog - or his scions -- and in fact, though it may seem disrespectful, you can even eat groundhog sausage at the pancake breakfast!)

badges with all kinds of fun shapes









You'll find badges at likely places such as Disney, but also at unlikely places like the Raptor Rehab Center or the National Park or even at some airports!   Keep your eyes open for badges everywhere you go!

 Collect them all as you travel, and when you return home, purchase one of those inexpensive fleece blankets in your favorite color. You won't want to wash these badges frequently, so select a color of blanket that will not need constant cleaning.
I've appliqued the patches around the edge, but you can put them on however you like.  In fact, you can add to the blanket, year after year, to commemorate a series of trips.

The finished blanket is a great "throw" for chairs and couches, perfect for your porch or boat, convenient for car and camping trips, but also makes a very special bedspread.  It is wonderful to send this blanket off with your child as they move into their first apartment!    Enjoy and Travel On!

Look for TRAVEL TRIBUTE #2, coming soon to the TLT blog!

A Moveable Feast, South-Korean-style

I have always prided myself on my eating motto:
If it doesn't walk off my plate, EAT it!

But this octopus lunch in the Busan fish market on the southeastern coast of South Korea makes me question my credo:

Tell me what YOU would do -- Dig in?  or not?
melanie@toughlovetravel.com

Not good sleeping but GREAT spelunking: lava tubes of Hawaii

The prehistoric peoples of the Pacific found water here.
Armed with tiny matchstick-size fires (forget those flaming torches of Hollywood fame), they crawled deep into the lava tubes, where they could collect water that was not only free of salt, but was also incredibly pure, having been filtered by the layers of lava rock above.

Out on the Big Island, on the western slopes of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, you, too, can go spelunking in these same lava tubes!
Cave access is just outside of National Park boundaries and, unlike the developed lava tubes within the Park that look like this:

the natural lava tubes are Unlighted. Undeveloped.  Untouched.

Lava tubes are created when rivers of hot, molten lava flow from an active volcano.   Ceilings and walls of the tube harden over time and when the flow eventually stops, open caverns -- sometimes vacuous and other times cramped -- are left behind.

Some lava tubes open up on land, almost like a skylight

...while others open up on to the ocean cliffs, marking a spot where the lava has once flowed right into the sea!

We started at the "office", viewing underground maps of the volcanic area.  Then, outfitted with headlamps and helmets and kneepads, we struck out into the caves.

This was not a good excursion for the claustrophobic!  The tube quickly narrowed and we found ourselves squeezing through tight crevasses and scraping our arms on the needle sharp lava ridges on each side.

At one point, we gathered in an open area, our boots slipping down the slanted rock as we perched, listening to our guide share tales of past explorers who had gotten an arm or leg hopelessly stuck, and perished.  Visions of "127 Hours" raced through my mind!

Tension was increased as the guide instructed us all to turn off our headlamps.  The immediate and absolute darkness was intense -- so dark it almost looked navy behind my eyelids -- and as our group sat in total stillness, the drips and echos of the cave mysteriously came to our ears.   We were "deep in it"!

After more than 45 minutes of crawling and stretching into ever deeper tunnels, our guide stopped short.   Before us laid an anthropological site dating back 10's of 1,000s of years!   A scattering of 2" long torches lay extinguised alongside broken shards -- pieces of old coconut shells?   of pottery?    This was a site where the prehistoric islanders had come for their water.  What a far cry, I considered, from flipping on the tap!   The breadth of time that separated us from our meager beginnings was too wide for me to fathom.

Other spots, the guide pointed out, were used for refuge during conflict.   The tubes would contract in these spots to make entry accessible for only one person at a time, making invasion nearly impossible.
Other areas hid impressive petroglyphs.

The entire tour lasted only about 2 hours and cost only about $35.  Later that day, though, relaxing on the famous Green Sand Beach, I admit that my mind returned to the lava tube, and I felt closer to my long lost ancestors  than to my fellow summer vacationers littering the towels around me.

The Trail to Jim Morrison's Cave

45 minutes from downtown LA...
then west on the Pacific Coast Highway (or PCH as the locals say) for 15 miles of motoring.  I was so close to the surf, the spray misted my windshield...
then 30 or so  hairpin turns, straight up into the hills, you 'll find it:
Jim Morrison's Cave! 

There're Bronson Caves which overlook the Hollywood sign,
and El Matador Sea Caves down by the Malibu beach,

"Birth Canal" entrance from inside

Entering the "Birth Canal", from outside

but THIS cave, with its iconic "birth canal" entrance, has the reputation of hosting Jim Morrison as he composed Doors' lyrics and lived out his Lizard King dreams.


It's not marked (of course) but drive til you can go no higher, park on the wide shoulder, and start to hike.



The path is magnificent high desert-
peer over clusters of yellow spring flowers bursting from succulent bushes, into the deserted valley below, and the remote landscape stretches out, as far as the eye can see.

No sea views here, you gaze east across the valley towards LA.
But also none of that sadly-familiar pink smog here.  The air is hot but light, and the sandstone outcroppings lure you further down the trail.

There are vestiges of earlier worshippers here -- not southwest Indian, but rock-n-roll followers, seeking to grasp even wisp of Jim Morrison aura.

Before you venture INTO the cave, take a minute to soak in the scene:

Inside the cave, watch your step! From the "birth canal", the hill opens up to a gaping, breeze-y desertscape!

You'll find some interesting cave art, including the famous skull, said to have been carved into the cave floor by Jim Morrison himself!

  If you dig this, then remember to check out TLT's ezine, Tales of the Trip, next month!  

There's inspiration to sleep here!  (and other caves around the world, too!)

The residents of Pere LaChaise

Pere LaChaise, the most famous cemetery of Paris, has some pretty swanky residents.  From Jim Morrison to Oscar Wilde -- all 77,000 of them as a matter of fact --  they make a star-studded neighborhood.  Of course, instead of golden stars on the sidewalk, there are tombs.  Pas une grosse affaire!  Come with me on a stroll...

As we enter under the Porte Principale:

we pass Collette (1920s French author of sexual audacities like Gigi and La Belle Epoque), 

then the "Baron" (commissioned by Napolean to raze medieval Paris and create modern sewers, bridges,  the wide boulevards we love today, and even Paris Opera) will appear in Famille Haussmann.

After the famous Monument aux Morts (tomb sculpture created by Bartholome in honor of his beloved wife),

turn right into the Composer's District.  Here, meet Chopin, a frail Polish man who refused to name his compositions, choosing instead to number them (No.6 in A flat major).  A talented pianist, his frail health prevented him from doing much performing:

And speaking of composers, head east around the loop of Chemin Seine and to your left.  Meet Jim Morrison.  We know him of Doors fame -- that growling "Hello, HelLO, HELLO".  He was one of the only cemetery residents not to be a longterm Parisian  (rule of eligibility for interment here at PL) but the French government didn't want to lose him.  The stone over his grave says "Kata Ton Daimona Eaytoy", or "true to his own spirit".

Now head deep into the property, taking the Avenue Circulaire back to the far right and meet Edith Piaf, my favorite French singer ever!  I adore her story -- sent as a 5-year old to sing on street corners to make money for her Grandmother's
house of prostitutes. Her fragile, lilting voice earned her the nickname "The Waif Sparrow":

Around the back circle of the cemetery, on a side lane, you'll find the wild tomb of celebrated Irish playwright Oscar Wilde, decorated with a flying pharaonic angel (whose erect penis was removed around 1905 after public outrage).  Wilde's story was a sad one... in his homeland, he was often denied credit for his plays because of his open homosexual status, and after a prison stint of hard labor and near death, he was brought to Paris to be nurtured by friends and die on Rue Des Beaux-Arts.

Just forward and to the left is Victor Noir.  A 22-year old, executed on the spot by Bonaparte in 1870, is best known for his political reporting to the commoners, which inconveniently (for the Prince, at least) stressed shortcomings of the government and injustices to the people.  He is buried, just as he died, in full dress, laying on his back, hat askew.   

So many people kiss him that the patina is rubbed off his lips!

As you wander the lanes of Pere LaChaise,

there are touches of humour... and moments of grief:

Holocaust Memorial

You'll find weeping statues and maybe even Dracula's tomb:

 

In the end, perhaps the MOST famous residents are the cats!

For a slideshow of Pere LaChaise, click here!

Hangin' on a Houseboat... Lake Powell in our American Southwest

It had seemed like a fine idea… renting a houseboat to explore the canyons and emerald swimming bays of Lake Powell.  When I called for a reservation, the nice Utah gal on the phone said, “If ‘ya can drive a car, ‘ya can drive a houseboat."

Easy for her to say!  To begin with, there are no brakes on a boat… only a coasting stop (and a reverse gear, if you’re really in a panic!).  Also, it’s more the size of a double 18-wheeler than of any car I’ve ever driven.

But we boldly loaded up, and somehow got it backed out of the slip.   The narrow channels of the marina didn’t leave much room for error, though, and before I knew it, the Dock Master was flagging us down. My novice boating skills had earned us a private escort out of the yacht-filled marina.  Fortunately, my sons were young enough to think it meant we were special, not incompetent.

Free at last on the lake!  The breeze was cool, the rock buttes were a brilliant orange, and our icy beverages fizzed as we cracked open the peanuts. I guess I got caught up in our newfound adventure, and, before I knew it, we were nose-diving!

The bow of the boat, loaded down with 2 huge iced-down coolers, disappeared into the waves, and everything – our bodies, our books, our peanuts – flew South!  I yelled to the kids, “Run!  Run to the back!”, and as if their 70-pound, 10-year old bodies could save the day, they ran rear, grabbing white plastic chairs as they flew off the deck.

I slammed the engine into reverse (see alternate breaking method above), and with a great green slosh past my captain’s station and a thick glug of the motor, the pontoons rocked back upright.  Whew!  That was a close one!

So, all went well for the afternoon.  We quietly toured the lake and dreamed of our week ahead…  Jet-skiing through the warren of canyons, back to the famous Rainbow Bridge! Fishing derbies (can Mom really clean a catfish?)  Morning hikes along the shoreline! Ancient caves to explore!  Grand Western sunsets! Bonfires blazing in the desert night! Sleeping under the stars!

As the sky turned rosy and the kids called for dinner, though, I remembered that scary phrase from the boat orientation… “Beaching.” I had asked at the time, “Can’t we just circle the lake all night long?

The idea of beaching is to ram this 15,000-pound box of a boat into the sand beach, hard enough to stick, but not get stuck (all the while avoiding the red boulders for which Lake Powell is so famous).  It was a chaotic mix of boys, anchors, shovels, splashing and sweating, but we got her “set,” and with a whoop of victory, fired up the grill and opened the water slide.   Maybe houseboating WAS a brilliant idea after all.

As the kids chased each other down the slide, I took stock in our first day. I had nearly gotten a ticket, swamped the boat, and terrorized my crew. I had wondered if we had the “right stuff”-- when loading up, the other boaters filled their black wheelbarrows with cases of beer, while ours overflowed with scrabble, beach balls, and bags of marshmallows for our campfire.

But as the sun set, we dragged our mattresses out of the bunks and up onto the top deck, to sleep out under the powdered-sugar sky… just us five and the stars…and I knew we did!

20 Best Hikes in the National Parks -- thank you, National Geographic

Best Hikes in the National Parks -- National Geographic

I have spent a good chunk of each summer since 1992, stomping into the backcountry of one National Park, or another.   From Isle Royale's offshore campsites, to Angel Creek in the bottom of the Grand Canyon, to amazing sunsets along the Gulf shores of the Everglades, I am blessed with the most priceless memories.

In the past few summers, though, I realize that I had missed these annual forays.

I had already promised myself a NP trip for Summer '12.
Now, thanks to NG's article, all I have to do is choose!