The big yellow orb is in the sky


I am frightened, and eerily drawn to it.
- Ava email to me

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Utah Day 5: Snow Canyon State Park

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Serendipity is the hallmark of a good trip, and today we had the serendipity to find Snow Canyon state park. When your mind conceives of southern Utah, this park is what you imagine. Red rock, narrow canyons, petrified sandstone, cacti, dunes, all just a short drive from Dairy Queen and Baskin Robbins (ice cream selection being another hallmark of a good trip). In 1993 Alex, Carlos, Ania, Becky (not in Utah!) and I went to Africa, and a highlight of the trip was a magical day we spent at Sossusvlei in Namibia, a park of red sand dunes that went on as far as the eye could see. To say that Snow Canyon equaled that would be an exaggeration, but running down the dunes brought back those memories. After the dunes we went on a hike and climb, ending up high on the sandstone boulders. We had ice cream for lunch and lunch for dessert, and are now back at the house, lounging in the hot desert wind and reading books.
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Sailing the BVIs

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First Mate, Sailor, and Dinghy Captain of the fine ship Pelican Pat The cool thing about a sailing vacation is that your hotel doubles as your entertainment, your view changes everyday, and instead of splashing water on your face to wake up, you dive into the warm, blue Caribbean (or whatever sea you happen to be plying). However, there are some drawbacks to this sort of trip: cramped quarters, nautical heads, seasickness ... landlubber concerns, trivial really. So it was with some trepidation back in January that I booked eight nights aboard a Sunsail sailboat in the British Virgin Islands . No captain, no cook, just the four of us and the sea. "It's for your 50th," said Ava, "let's go! I'll figure out something for the seasickness." What a trooper. I only hoped that the ultimate solution for the seasickness that has plagued her since birthing our children wasn't spending her nights ashore. "Have a nice night on board that stuffy,...
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Too Much Gear

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Wear sunscreen, my children As you leave the M6 and start to make your way into the Lake District, on narrow roads through rolling hills dotted with sheep and criss-crossed by meandering stone fences, you pass through charming villages with one thing in common: they have lots of gear shops. I notice these things because I love gear shops, and in the Lake District they are all over the place. Windemere, Ambleside, Grasmere, Keswick - four villages no more than about 20 miles apart, each charming and touristy in a Carmel sort of way - each featuring about a dozen (more in Keswick) cool gear shops. The place is awash in fleece, gore-tex, and hiking and climbing shoes. There are enough tents and sleeping bags to outfit the entire English nation. The walking sticks, placed end to end, would probably reach the moon. Or at least the top of Everest. We wonder, how can all these places survive? When some adventurous businessman walked into Keswick and saw a dozen gear stores, why did he ...
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