What’s your best memory of staying cool in travel on a hot summer day?

“Savannah is adorned with extraordinary architecture, lush botanicals, and charming city squares.” (Historic Tours of America)

I knew it was going to be uncomfortably hot and muggy on the day we planned to visit the historic downtown corridor of Savannah, Georgia to begin our road trip. So Ruth and I decided to “beat the heat” by booking an old town Savannah trolley tour. Setting out from the tourist welcome center, our plan involved taking advantage of the “hop on hop off”  option to managably access the impressive number of places that we wanted to see. But as we settled into the shuttle’s relaxing open air comfort, we unexpectedly stayed on board and went around the ninety minute loop  three times instead.

Further driving our decision to remain seated on the bus, I must also give high praise to our three tour guides we encountered on these itineraries who combined friendly enthusiasm and deep knowledge of the area. Most importantly,  they were able to cue me in when and where to take the best photographs in a more patiently thoughtful manner. So as you can discern from these snapshots below, my Old Town trolley impressions on this day expressed my admiration for the slower pace of life found along it’s picturesque city squares, shaded oak tree canopies and cobblestone lined riverbank pathways. 

Savannah proved to be a rewarding first stop for our summer adventure. If the rest of our journey offers as much history, beauty and thoughtful hospitality as we experienced here, we’re off to a wonderful beginning.

Blog Source:

https://www.visittheusa.com/destinations/georgia/savannah/

When and where was the last time someone showed deep care for your well being? 

“ The great gift of human beings is that they have the power of empathy. We can all sense a mysterious connection to each other.” (Meryl Streep)

I’ve experienced  plenty of yoga teachers over the years who’ve helped me  maintain decent strength, balance and flexibility as I’ve attempted to age gracefully. To accomplish these goals, I am thus well versed in the body movement logistics of each pose ahead and know when to ease off my physical effort as needed. But I often seem unable to feel the deep spiritual advantages offered by my practice.

So that leads me to discuss why I enjoyed taking  a yin yoga class to begin my summer from  a young female instructor who recently emigrated from Bangalore, India. Notably, while completing  each pose in a set order, her style of yoga practice featured numerous attempts to show compassion for us as individuals while we synchronized her smiling presence with steady breath control awareness. In this regard,  I particularly enjoyed those  spiritually enlightening  periods of slow body/head bows  and rhythmic vocal chants which we performed  with her in unison. I also felt a welcoming slow down of my busy “monkey mind” chatter and instead visualized her spreading images of goodness in myself and the gifts of “Mother Earth” surrounding me. 

Whether I take her class again, I do not know. Yet for one summer morning, this empathetic stranger reminded me that genuine care often comes unexpectedly. So stay tuned this June and July as Ruth and I once again travel America’s highways hoping to share stories and photographs not only about the planned fifteen places we visit, but also of caring people whose kindness enriches our journey along the way in an unexpectedly. You can view our intended itinerary map in the blog cover photo above. 

Relate an experience in your life when you dreaded something bad happening tomorrow. How did the upcoming event turn out for you?

“We are through for the night, but tomorrow we fight the battle that will decide the fate of the Republic.” (General Joseph Hooker,, Antietam Battlefield)     

As Ruth and I approached Antietam National Battlefield during our road trip stay in Western Maryland’s Civil War region, I felt an eerie uneasiness about spending part of my sightseeing day at this place defined by death. For if you’ve followed this road trip, you know I’ve increasingly gravitated toward places that restore me—quiet landscapes, reflective parks, anywhere that lets me breathe a little easier. But Antietam as I recall from my American History teaching days certainly didn’t promise  that! How about you?  Have you ever gone somewhere like this knowing it might leave you emotionally heavier than when you arrived?

But what interested me most was how serene Antietam looked at first glance as I entered these hallowed grounds. Open farmland. Gentle breezes. Birds going about their day as if nothing extraordinarily violent had ever happened here.Yet more than 23,000 Americans became casualties on this ground in a single day there! So during my  audio car tour of ten sites on this tragic battlefield, I found that this tragic military outcome at Antietam confirmed a relevant history lesson. For what if  such drastic human costs of war similarly happened today? Obviously then, I would support those leaders in my country who do the hard work to find peaceful diplomatic solutions rather than fighting ego filled wars. 

On a personal level I’ve had similar conflict resolution solutions in mind in the last six months in dealing with my mother’s passing  and some personal medical crises as well. Yet amid such turmoil, I’ve consistently conveyed the message in my travel blog entries this spring that finding calmness works best to deal with on the road anxiety rather than ramping up my behavior with confrontation filled outbursts.

Where have you ever planned a peaceful day only to realize the destination had disorderly ideas?

“There is a quiet at the head of the storm.” (Mason Cooley)

We arrived in Albany, New York on our roadtrip with high interest, but managing our time in  this spread out capitol city core proved difficult to manage. For what followed was not the quiet historical wandering we envisioned, but a lengthy and physically demanding city trek amid muggy air, wall barriers, lack of street corner signs, and other urban distractions that made it difficult to settle into the day.      

Albany, moreover, in spite of its impressive architecture presence felt extremely impersonal and uninviting, as people moved quickly like robots through workday routines while I hesitantly searched my GPS settings for our locational bearings. Perhaps finding human help in a local cafe when needed would have helped but I couldn’t find any along this institution dominant route. 

And yet this taxing travel day did not end as a total loss. For our historic learnings at The New York State Museum and those  panoramic views of  Albany and the Hudson River valley from the Corning Building Tower ended our  day with genuine redeeming value. In retrospect, however, I realized  that those highlights came at a cost. For sometimes the story from the road is about accepting that some destinations present more challenges to overcome than expected.

What small towns in your community interest you most? Why is that?

“In small towns people scent the wind with noses of uncommon keenness.” — Stephen King

After more than eight weeks of road trip movement often staying busy with ambitious sightseeing days, Penn Yan offered us something entirely different: permission to slow down. This small Finger Lakes, New York town was never intended to overwhelm us with marquee attractions. Instead, it quietly invited us to breathe deeper, simplify our plans, and rediscover the pleasures that come from doing less.

Some of our most enjoyable moments here required very little effort. A manageable waterfall walk along the Keuka Outlet Trail brought the soothing sound of rushing water without demanding an all-day commitment. At Weaver View Farms, Amish-made goods reflected craftsmanship and simplicity that felt refreshingly disconnected from modern urgency. At Birkett Mills, even the idea of buckwheat specialties carried the charm of regional tradition and local pride. And at the Spotted Duck Ice Cream Shop, I slowly relished  every drop of a luscious root beer float with vivid reminders that this had been  a favorite treat of mine to order at the local soda fountain as a child.

Perhaps the Penn Yan region’s  most memorable gift has been the stillness found beside Seneca Lake. No itinerary pressure. No lines. No rush toward the next attraction. Just a quiet shoreline park in the village of Dresden where we could sit and  gaze across the water to appreciate how restorative small-town life can feel in contrast to the constant stimulation of larger urban destinations.  

How has art or music awakened a memory, emotion, or even a dream you didn’t expect?

“But if you’re talking about fine art work, then I think you have to ask yourself some pretty deep questions about why it is you want to take pictures and what it is you want to say.” (Leonard Nimoy)

Most of our visits on this road trip have been built around on site observations of landscapes, restaurants and  historic landmarks. However, our recent stay in Cleveland, Ohio aroused something more deeply reflective of fine arts genius. Know then at the Cleveland Museum of Art, the works of Edouard Manet and Berthe Morison, exhibited the light touch of French Impressionism, which seemed to invite quiet contemplation of natural surroundings beyond words. One day later at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, a completely different artistic language resonated at a new exhibit of Paul McCartney’s Wings years,  with a louder sound, strong nostalgic feel and the high energy of rock n’ roll. 

How desirable I imagined then it would become to experience such in “the moment”  scenes of casual outdoor leisure that Morisot and Manet portrayed in their Impressionistic paintings.of late 19th century France. Would today’s Paris in a similar fashion thus become a desirable place for us to relocate in the future? With regard to Wings’ McCartney, I also envisioned how to best relive those exuberant times in my twenties when the rock scene meant so much to me as a live concert participant and band  performer myself.? Was there truly a “Fountain of Youth” in replaying again McCartney’s Wings classics? 

Thus both of these Cleveland experiences shared something important for me to ponder in real life. For whether through Impressionistic paintbrush whispers or guitar riff shouts, I was  reminded how experiencing creative  expression remains one of  the most enduring ways of helping me feel more deeply alive at home and in travel.

What relaxes you most when you visit the beach?

“Someday you may happen at the dunes when the silence will be the charm . . . The calm at the dunes is to be felt; it cannot be spoken.” (E. Stillman Bailey)

To begin this latest entry, I must confess that the windswept shoreline of Indiana Dunes National Park appeared at the right moment on Monday. For after driving through a heavily congested Joliet, Illinois and Gary, Indiana corridor on our road trip route on Sunday, I embraced this special place along the open Lake Michigan shoreline with wholehearted satisfaction. How quickly this pristinely beautiful park could easily disappear without continued government protection from such rampant urban development also crossed my mind at this time.

Know then our brief visit the next morning began at the park’s Visitor Center, where we watched an introductory film explaining the historical and ecological significance of this federal/state protected dune region. From there, we headed toward scenic West Beach to take photos as we embraced the calming atmosphere surrounding us of its remote beach locations, windswept sand dune formations and the endless blue sky horizons towering above the lake. As we ended this excursion with a quiet picnic lunch, I felt restorative relief to slow down our pace for the remainder of this road trip. Upon further reflection, Indiana Dunes influenced me to prioritize visiting parks more often. In particular, nature’s  power to heal physical discomfort, quiet my mind and restore a clearer focus perspective that I need at the time might exist much closer to home than I currently realize. 

What’s the quietest part of your home community to enjoy living? 

“The beauty of nature is best known in waves of stillness and silence.” (Angie Weiland – Crosby)

Steamboat Springs, Colorado once again met us not with excitement, but with a quiet kind of welcome that felt right for us at the time. So our adventure began on day one with an excursion to Steamboat Lake State Park which offered us the ideal place to just”chill” in nature’s solitude. Notable quality time then happened for us during a picnic lunch by the lake. Picture us then admiring the snowy  mountains towering above us, feeling the gentle breeze across the water and inhaling the deep woody aroma of pine trees surrounding this pristinely beautiful location. It wasn’t a dramatic moment but something subtler as if nothing special needed to happen but enjoy nature’s quiet beauty that day.

A similar  kind of solitude carried into the  remaining two days of our Steamboat visit as snow began to move into the valley. Thus I’d take ample time  to observe how my world seemed to slow even further in Steamboat at Fish Creek Falls Park as flakes had drifted down without urgency, layering places I visited in silence. I noted as well that these uplands seemed dimly softened by heavy cloud cover thus becoming part of a quieter scene that asked only to be observed, not conquered.

So given our necessity to be “on the move” traveling cross country, Steamboat Springs became a place where time and distance restraints no longer mattered. It instead offered a us a quiet pause without expectation, a reminder that not every meaningful travel moment comes from striving to do more in the time allotted. 

What emotions arise for you upon visiting a scenic waterfall from a sight, smell, and sound perspective? 

“No country in the world could produce a location where beauty, grandeur and power so artistically and profusely intermixed.” (Charles Walgamott, 1875)

We weren’t planning anything special when we left Boise last Thursday. It was just another open stretch of open road, another road trip day unfolding without much expectation. But we needed a break from our seven hour drive to Park City, Utah, so visiting  Shoshone Falls came up suddenly as a sidetrack place to eat our lunch hopefully overlooking the waterfall. Exiting at the Twin Falls,Idaho exit, our alternate route took us to a steep descent from the Shoshone canyon entrance a few miles outside of town. 

With visions of previous visits to mighty Niagara Falls then entering my mind, suddenly there it was—the wide crashing sounds and sights of falling water filling my nostrils with freshly cooled air with the sounds of  a deep steady roar. Like Niagara, its rim at over 200 feet deep and 900 feet wide immediately felt too overwhelming to fully take in at first glance. 

So I found several vantage points of the overlook and surrounding environs from different angles to take photos in silence as I savored the calming effect of water movement plunging steadily into the deep canyon  below. Those moments, had nothing to do with feeding my busy mind about geological details of this experience. For I was simply staying in the present moment to appreciate being in this memorable place combining natural beauty and gravity’s power then and that was enough. 

What’s your favorite activity to do when visiting mountains on vacation? 

“The mountains are calling. But here, they don’t just call you to go. They ask how you choose to arrive.” (John Muir)

Our road trip visit to Park City, Utah this weekend carried two distinct rhythms, and I found myself moving between them like shifting gears on a long climb. At Park City Olympic Park, motion is everything during winter season – the hum of the overhead mountain lifts, the scrape of skis and snow boots crunching over packed snow. Even without actually seeing this challenging activity then, I could feel the energy of world competitors chasing gravity on these steep white slopes. For the echoes of the 2002 Winter Olympics still linger, giving the place a subtle sense of legacy, as if speed itself left an imprint on the mountain.

Then a few miles out of town as state route 40 bends away, the fast tempo quickly dissolved for me  For at Jordanelle State Park, the world of nature whispered and softened. The lake amid the backdrop of Utah’s Wasatch Mountains rested in long still stretches, broken only by the faint ripple of wind across its surface.The air smelled different here—more earthy bite, more warming sunshine. No lift cables or urgency to move—just the low hush of shoreline and the occasional call of a bird crossing the open sky. How right it felt then to find a scenic spot near this shoreline for a quiet picnic lunch followed by some panoramic photo shots of the calming lake waters beyond. 

That flexible contrast of time use stayed with me in Park City. I could choose to move—fast, loud, outward or I could merely be still and to let the landscape come to me. For these mountains didn’t insist on one experience. They offered both. And somewhere between the active energy required on the slopes and the quiet pull of lakefront water, I began  to notice the simplest shift of all -not just knowing where I was in time but how fully I was willing to be there.