Now’s the time, when there’s not much moon in late summer and fall, to slip a kayak into Tomales Bay near Point Reyes National Seashore. Bioluminescence is at its peak then, and when darkness settles on the water, every paddle stroke ignites bursts of light.
An easy place to put in is at Nick’s Cove, Miller County Park boat launch in the hamlet of Marshall. One great benefit here is the chance to get a good meal before you go or a celebratory beverage after you return at the bar and restaurant that bears the cove’s name. Even better, rent one of the cottages on the premises and spend the night, waking to the sound of bay waters lapping on the pilings.
Nick’s Cove Restaurant and Oyster Bar takes you back in time without old-fashioned discomforts. Once a hunter’s hangout, the bar still sports trophy heads on the dark wood walls, and true to the place’s history, the menu emphasizes seafood with, naturally, lots of oysters. It also emphasizes sustainability, sourcing many of its offerings in California Cuisine from the bounty of West Marin. Continue reading »
I just spent seven jam-packed days of nostalgia and appreciation of the ever-evolving city of New York. The weather was perfect, the spring blooms at their peak and that dazzling mix of old world and high tech chic on display everywhere.
I try to make it back to New York at least once a year, usually for events, this time my epic High School reunion. I often travel solo but this time my companion was my nine-year-old. There was so much I wanted to share with him and narrowing down our plans was painful…and true to how I roll, the best things happened serendipitously.
We walked by the West 4th Street Courts just a block from my mom’s apartment, a famous spot where Lew Alcindor played before becoming the great Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, an iconic public court where legions of other basketball greats have shot hoops over the years. Tucked in the the back are handball courts — I had forgotten about the New York obsession with the game. A tiny pinky ball, perhaps a glove and a wall, that’s all that’s needed. The sport, now called “American Handball”, is a big draw for beach goers, but as I traveled the city I was surprised to see so many courts in every borough. My son was fascinated and wanted to play. A player at W. 4 Street let him on the court to give it a try and he was smitten. The guy even gave him a ball — I LOVE NY. Continue reading »
As daffodils blossom and birds once again sing in the trees, spring has sprung in many parts of North America. Many folks have weathered a long snowy winter and crave warmth, sunshine on their bare arms and all the outdoor activities that forced hibernation kept from them over the last few months.
I, for one, can never get enough of winter fun. Living in San Francisco, a trip to the mountains is easy but requires some planning and often ice skating indoors has to satisfy my cravings.
In Ottawa, Ontario, workers and students can ice-skate commute (skammute?) on the Rideau Canal Skateway. The 4.8-mile-long, 26-foot-wide frozen canal is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Visitors can rent skates, and warm up spots, cafes and other amenities dot the route. It is of course a popular tourist attraction and the centerpiece of Winterlude, a three-week-long winter festival including ice sculptures, skate clinics and Snowflake Kingdom, a snowy playground wonderland. Continue reading »
As we rolled through the holidays into 2013, I’ve been having daydreams of the Swiss Alps. A few years ago I took my family there in the summer and found the most extraordinary playground on the slopes of the Matterhorn. We spent a blissful day picnicking, hiking, and watching the kids enjoy the slides, swings, ropes, and other playground paraphernalia, all beneath a backdrop of that amazing mountain.
More recently I hiked with friends in the Jungfrau region, basing ourselves in Mürren on the flank of the Lauterbrunnen Valley, what has to be one of the most scenic settings on earth. At other times I’ve explored Geneva, Lausanne, Luzern, St. Moritz, Gindelwald, Appenzell, Chur, and other places, but I’ve never been there in winter. Continue reading »
Since before the economic meltdown we have been planning a trip to Spain to explore my husband’s roots and revel in all that is Spanish soccer. I know a number of people who have traveled recently to debt-stricken European countries including Spain, Greece, Ireland and Iceland. Prices are still high, but most raved about their trips and Spain has stood out as a fabulous place to visit despite the nearly 25% unemployment rate. Food in particular has been a big draw for many, fueled in part by Anthony Bourdain and other shows on the Travel Channel.
Clearly, visiting struggling countries helps to boost their economy. For a place like Greece, it might well be how they can dig out of such a deep hole, promoting all that is so appealing when life for locals is so hard. So, when I read a recent New York Times article entitled “The Country Beckons Spaniards as Jobs in Cities Grow Scarce,” it was interesting to think about how long periods of strife can dramatically change the travel landscape.
I remember rolling in to sleepy Spanish villages, practically drunk on olives and olive oil and even sleeping under an olive tree one hot day. The small towns, just awakening from years under Franco, were still very old world, so authentic and charming. Spain of course has modernized quickly over the last 20 or so years, but much of the growth was isolated in the big cities and towns.
For years I’ve been hearing about the dry snow in Utah, how the mountains around Salt Lake City have the best ski conditions in the West, how Park City and other nearby resorts produce the most memorable ski experiences.
But I live in San Francisco and can be on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe in less than four hours. Lake Tahoe, the place with more ski resorts and ski acreage than any region in the USA, plus the glorious spectacle of the lake from many peaks. Why run off to Utah, or Jackson Hole, Wyoming, or Big Sky, Montana, or Vail or Aspen or Whistler, BC when I live so close to such a winter wonderland?
One reason this winter was the pitiful snowfall in the Sierra. Another was a group of friends from college days who wanted to meet there for a reunion. So, with tickets booked far in advance, I had powder dreams reminiscent of Warren Miller films and couldn’t wait to get going. Continue reading »
When we think of Brazil, we think of soccer, over the top Carnival celebrations, samba dance, Bossa Nova music, and unfortunately, lots of crime. The 21st century, however, has brought many changes to this giant of Latin American countries. These days, Brazilians are preparing for two huge international sporting events…The 2014 Football World Cup and the 2016 Summer Olympic Games. The motto for the Olympics is “live your passion.”
On a gloriously, sunny crisp clear day in SF, I started wading through our snow gear in preparation for a school snow trip to the Sierras. It must be mentioned that keeping snow gear up to date for growing kids is tricky, but I think I’ve got it all sorted and labeled. All this talk of snow and winter got me thinking about my own winter bucket list, winter adventures high on my “to do” agenda.
When most of the country is dreaming of beaches and sun, I’m dreaming of the white stuff. I love snow and all the fun one can have outdoors when the temperature drops and precipitation turns to flakes. Three unusual activities came to mind. One, visiting Sweden’s Ice Hotel, but I already posted about that one.
The second, skating Holland’s many canals has been a lifelong dream. Inspired by Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates, skating the canals has become a rarity due to pollution and climate change. 2009 was a big year for canal skating and many Dutch citizens rediscovered their soul when they strapped on their skates two winters ago.
Cue the Deliverance Music.
It was July 4th weekend so we were expecting crowds, and save for a few kayakers and boat enthusiasts, we pretty much had the river to ourselves. We had planned a moderate backpacking trip but when one in our party had abrupt knee surgery in April, we opted to paddle to our campsite instead of forcing the kids to hike with packs a la the Bataan Death March. The preparations were similar to a backpacking trip, but we could bring comfy pads and a cooler. I was concerned about tipping the canoe, but my friend hails from Minnesota and has done this sort of thing before.
Northampton sits in the lush Pioneer Valley of Massachusetts, on the Connecticut River. Home to Smith College and affectionately called Noho by some, this college town is home to a vibrant music scene, fine restaurants and shops. Berkeley of the East, the town also sports a well loved bike trail that connects Northampton to Amherst.
I was visiting my good friend and her family recently and they decided to take me on a bike ride on the stellar Norwottuck Bike Trail, a 9.5-mile path linking Northampton, Hadley, and Amherst. Norwottuck, the Native American name for Northampton means the midst of the river.
We set out on a humid day, ready for a mellow ride, their house was just a block from the entrance to the trail which made departure easy. Living in San Francisco, I’m unused to flat trails and enjoyed the fast and smooth ride and the natural breeze given the weather. Crossing an old train bridge was novel, and with a view of the river it made a perfect rest point and photo op. We passed families, dog walkers, folks of all shapes and sizes enjoying being out and active. Continue reading »