I don't have a bucket list. I have an unwritten trilogy. The
War and Peace of where I want to go and what I want to do.
But I'm only 50-something, so I've got time. Of course I started checking things off, sometimes many more times than once, half a century ago. I began traveling and adventuring as a child with my family in the '60s. Hobie catting and flying the hull in San Diego's Mission Bay. Snorkeling off Catalina and flying back to the mainland via seaplane. The Mojave Desert at the Horst Ranch with Grandma and Grandpa, complete with pool, burros and black widows. Bryce, Zion, the rim of the Grand Canyon. Learning to bodysurf in Santa Monica Bay. My first visit to San Francisco, where I threw my head back and looked heavenward with the skyscrapers surrounding me, deciding then and there I wanted to live in a big city when I grew up. Horseback riding in Yosemite. Skiing in Mammoth. And that was all before I turned ten.
Damn! I should have written it all down. Here's a brief rehash in unchronological order: roping up for the glaciers and peaks neighboring Mount Cook in New Zealand. Trekking in Nepal from Jiri to Tengboche Monastery in the Himalayas and arriving just in time for the Mani Rimdu Festival, a fall celebration to ward of evil spirits. Rock climbing the east face of Mt. Whitney in California. Whitewater kayaking the St. Francis River in Missouri, the Arkansas in Colorado, the Youghiogheny in Pennsylvania, the Southeastern trio of the Ocoee, the Nantahala, the Chattooga. Palm Springs and those sad dive bars we tried to get served in and the lovely restaurants we did get served in. Skiing and snowboarding in California's Sierras, San Gabriels and Colorado's Rocky Mountains. The Rainbow Gathering on the Huzzah River in Mark Twain Forest in Missouri and in the Wind River Range in Wyoming. Biking the hills, yes they got 'em, across Iowa for RAGBRAI! Scuba diving the Palancar Reef of Cozumel, with nurse sharks in the Caymans, sea turtles off Maui and in the pitch darkness of the cenote caverns in the Riviera Maya. Skinny-dipping in same cenotes, in the waves off St. Maarten and in the Mediterranean by Tossa del Mar. Pub crawling as a teenager in London. Disneyland (no, not Disneyworld) in Anaheim as a child with family, as a teenager including a short stint in the Mickey Mouse jail for mischief committed near Sleeping Beauty's Castle, and as an adult with kids, then with teenagers of my own. Camping and mountain biking Moab, Utah, Red Rocks Canyon by Las Vegas, Colorado and Rock Bridge State Park in Columbia, Missouri. Fiddling with sea anemones and trailing rattlesnakes at Montana de Oro south of San Luis Obispo, California. Dancing by a bonfire in the Ozarks. NEW YORK, NEW YORK! That weird breakfast place in British Columbia. Rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon with my children after hiking from the rim down Bright Angel Trail. Six weeks living with a family in Mexico City, except for that one week of tequila, congaline dancing, a broken down jeep and los Federales from Mazatlan to Puerto Vallarta. Chi-Town. Camping and mountain biking in Moab, Utah, and Red Rocks Canyon, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Las Vegas, Las Vegas, Last Vegas. A post high school trip through Europe that took only two weeks but has lasted me over three decades. Stumbling into a live sex show in the alleys off Patpong Street in Bangkok. Signing the climber's log on Vestal Peak in Colorado, a 14er! Paris. Rock climbing in Yosemite, Sam's Throne in Arkansas, Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. Alligators and manatees and filthy rich people in yachts off the gulf of Florida. Sailing the inlets of Maine and eating lobster hotdogs in Boston. Canoing, rafting and kayaking throughout the Ozarks and the float trip from hell on the Rio Grande through Big Bend National Park in Texas. Discovering that lady bugs are God on Venice Beach, California. The Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C.
I don't have it all jotted down here. There's no way. That was just a taste. So from hereon, I'm leaving a record. I'll toss in some trip planning and destination research. I might even elaborate on some of my past travels if inspired.
Life is a journey, even when you're socked in somewhere for a while. My travels or travails will sometimes center on my current locale. For now, it's Sugarloaf, California, in the US of A.
Damn! I should have written it all down. Here's a brief rehash in unchronological order: roping up for the glaciers and peaks neighboring Mount Cook in New Zealand. Trekking in Nepal from Jiri to Tengboche Monastery in the Himalayas and arriving just in time for the Mani Rimdu Festival, a fall celebration to ward of evil spirits. Rock climbing the east face of Mt. Whitney in California. Whitewater kayaking the St. Francis River in Missouri, the Arkansas in Colorado, the Youghiogheny in Pennsylvania, the Southeastern trio of the Ocoee, the Nantahala, the Chattooga. Palm Springs and those sad dive bars we tried to get served in and the lovely restaurants we did get served in. Skiing and snowboarding in California's Sierras, San Gabriels and Colorado's Rocky Mountains. The Rainbow Gathering on the Huzzah River in Mark Twain Forest in Missouri and in the Wind River Range in Wyoming. Biking the hills, yes they got 'em, across Iowa for RAGBRAI! Scuba diving the Palancar Reef of Cozumel, with nurse sharks in the Caymans, sea turtles off Maui and in the pitch darkness of the cenote caverns in the Riviera Maya. Skinny-dipping in same cenotes, in the waves off St. Maarten and in the Mediterranean by Tossa del Mar. Pub crawling as a teenager in London. Disneyland (no, not Disneyworld) in Anaheim as a child with family, as a teenager including a short stint in the Mickey Mouse jail for mischief committed near Sleeping Beauty's Castle, and as an adult with kids, then with teenagers of my own. Camping and mountain biking Moab, Utah, Red Rocks Canyon by Las Vegas, Colorado and Rock Bridge State Park in Columbia, Missouri. Fiddling with sea anemones and trailing rattlesnakes at Montana de Oro south of San Luis Obispo, California. Dancing by a bonfire in the Ozarks. NEW YORK, NEW YORK! That weird breakfast place in British Columbia. Rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon with my children after hiking from the rim down Bright Angel Trail. Six weeks living with a family in Mexico City, except for that one week of tequila, congaline dancing, a broken down jeep and los Federales from Mazatlan to Puerto Vallarta. Chi-Town. Camping and mountain biking in Moab, Utah, and Red Rocks Canyon, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Las Vegas, Las Vegas, Last Vegas. A post high school trip through Europe that took only two weeks but has lasted me over three decades. Stumbling into a live sex show in the alleys off Patpong Street in Bangkok. Signing the climber's log on Vestal Peak in Colorado, a 14er! Paris. Rock climbing in Yosemite, Sam's Throne in Arkansas, Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. Alligators and manatees and filthy rich people in yachts off the gulf of Florida. Sailing the inlets of Maine and eating lobster hotdogs in Boston. Canoing, rafting and kayaking throughout the Ozarks and the float trip from hell on the Rio Grande through Big Bend National Park in Texas. Discovering that lady bugs are God on Venice Beach, California. The Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C.
I don't have it all jotted down here. There's no way. That was just a taste. So from hereon, I'm leaving a record. I'll toss in some trip planning and destination research. I might even elaborate on some of my past travels if inspired.
Life is a journey, even when you're socked in somewhere for a while. My travels or travails will sometimes center on my current locale. For now, it's Sugarloaf, California, in the US of A.