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. 

What comes to mind when you hear the phrase “birds of prey”?

“ All raptors are birds of prey but not all birds of prey are raptors”. ( Smithsonian Handbook Birds of Texas)

 Birds of of prey like condors, vultures, eagles, and hawks are built to naturally hunt as they are keen-eyed, efficient, and precise. Some strike with speed. Others wait and take what’s left behind. Nothing is wasted. Nothing is personal. So during our road trip visit to the World Center for Birds of Prey in Boise, Idaho, such  raptor curiosity in caged captivity was hard to ignore.  Notably, each bird we observed waited patiently. Up close, their eyes didn’t judge, didn’t hesitate, didn’t pretend. They weren’t cruel. They were honest. And then the sudden rush of wings of two condors contesting  a favored land space broke the quiet.Their motion so quick I realized that I had witnessed their instinctive action to survive. The birds took what they needed and nothing more.

Watching them, I couldn’t help but think about how similarly to birds of prey so many humans I meet in my life function by autopilot.For as my culture rewards competition, we are often drawn to weakness, quick to highlight flaws, sometimes feeding on the failures we notice from a distance. Unlike these raptors  though, we are not driven to attack by survival instinct alone. We instead often choose to elevate or heedlessly entertain ourselves by tearing someone else down. We do have the ability to act with  restraint.

Maybe the real question then seems to be making better choices in times of confrontation to project kinder treatment of others. Know that a giant statue of Abraham Lincoln we witnessed in Boise  downtown to end this tour day seemed to represent an inspiring figure of “bird of prey resistance” in his compassionate declaration to end the cruel wrath of slavery during the American Civil War. 

What sights in America you’ve traveled to rate as excellent finds?

“What’s the world for if you can’t make it up the way you want it?” (Toni Morrison)

Forty two days in and thirty three to go on our longest American road trip we’ve ever embarked on.in our long travel history.  The spirit to keep going to chosen destinations along the way happen largely from our common interests in wild nature, spectator sports, live music and the authentic feel of history. Our preferred driving distances usually averages around six to seven hours per day. But on occasion like in the Nevada desert, we’ve extended those times up to ten hours to our next stopover. Of course the favorable springtime  weather conditions and reliable functioning of our Honda CRV has enhanced our progress so far as well. 

Thus I summarize ten highlights from our vacation so far. It’s notable that at  least half of these destinations visits listed arose as unexpected finds during the course of our clockwise route in a generally westerly and then northerly direction. 

Where and when have you found the need to make alternative travel plans on your vacations?

“We do not take a trip; a trip takes us.” (John Steinbeck)

We had planned to cross the Sierra Nevada Mountains.  on I-80, taking the steep route at high elevations past Donner Pass. But the weather had other ideas. A snowstorm moving into the mountains made the decision for us. Instead of pushing through such severe weather uncertainty, we instead opted for a longer but safer  drive north on  Highway 95 through austerely beautiful desert expanse into Winnemucca for the night. The next day we drove  northwest into Oregon eventually turning  west on rural Highway 140. This half  day route to our following stopover in Klamath Falls provided exhilarating views of snowcapped volcanic mountainsides, sparkling clear lakefronts, and Wild West inspired artifacts.

It wasn’t the original plan.And that turned out to be the point. There’s something to desire about that mostly barren “stretch” of Nevada highway after encountering so many  sound and sight distractions in Las Vegas . No traffic to manage, no neon billboards grabbing our attention—just open land, offering wide open space , fresh air and a steady rhythm of much needed simplicity.  Mile after mile, it also gave me space to think… or not think at all!

So by the time we reached Moore Park along Upper Klamath Lake for our morning Oregon excursion, I wasn’t looking for excitement as I had no schedule planned to be anywhere that day. The chilly temperatures at 44 degrees didn’t seem to bother me either. So I found myself slowing down for a simple walk without much trying around picturesque Putnam Point watching shorebirds roam freely.

Not every meaningful place on our road trips announce themselves ahead of time. Some just appear along the way, when I’m willing to adjust and keep going .We’ll continue on to Portland soon. But this post Vegas  stretch—the change in direction, the open desert road, the quiet pause in Klamath will  be what I remembered as a useful highlight of this vacation.

Does excessive noise bother you? Why or why not?

“ Choosing stillness in the midst of chaos is the  path toward living in peace.” (Deepak Chopra”)

Las Vegas is known for its spectacular volume—lights flashing, music pulsing, crowds pumped up with  constant distraction. For it is a city designed to keep you awake, alert, and wanting more amid casino chaos. But even in this place built around constant energy, I sought to find my own pace on this three day roadtrip visit. And so I found something else here beyond the strip’s intensity as the desert began to beckon my no rush call.

Know then on our first day Vegas excursion, I’d chosen “Valley of Fire State Park”, well known for its deep canyon reds and soft sandstone  browns as a quiet reminder that time in the Vegas vicinity doesn’t always need to move quickly. With temperatures pulsating above 90 degrees by noon, however, Ruth and J realized the need to prioritize our slow moving  drive today to view only a few designated places in the park. Those pockets of silent calmness selected included spirally rounded formations known as The Beehives. Seven Sisters and Balanced Rock. We also felt privileged to witness mysterious petroglyph drawings blackened by time high above  the Mouse’s Tank Trail and a rare sighting of bighorn sheep during our leisurely picnic lunch stop at the Park Visitor Center.                            

Even within the city itself, moments of calm revealed themselves pleasurably to me on our second day Vegas tour. In particular, at the Bellagio Hotel and Casino, I stepped from the bustling tourist activity of its main lobby into the quiet hush of the Conservatory and Botanical Gardens. It felt like entering a different world—one where flowers were not just grown, but imagined in carefully arranged colors, shapes, and textures. In immersing myself quietly with such sensory stimulation amid the hotel’s  latest masterpiece entitled, “Springtime Symphony”, how long to spend time there did not seem to really matter.      

 I realize this more “ low key”side of Las Vegas becomes a rare occasion for many visitors to this mecca of hedonistic temptations. But for me, I seemed eager to notice where and when such subdued rewards could best be found. Las Vegas may be built for noise, but I recommend, that you follow my example and try a vacation there centered around peace and quiet. 

What place you’ve visited before most captures your imagination?        

“Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.” (Albert Einstein)

Morro Bay, California is not just a place to me—it’s a state of mind. Back home in South Florida, amid tourist driven urban gridlock, I often find it therapeutic to imagine sitting on a sheltered beach, gazing out at massive Morro Rock. Shore birds glide and gather freely, otters drift casually on their backs, and harbor seals bark in the distance as if part of some unscripted coastal symphony. There is plenty of space here for all forms of life to simply exist as wild nature intended it. It’s also a place where I envision vintage car owners thrive as their showpiece vehicles refuse to rust.

When our subtropical weather stays hot and humid so much of the year, I recondition my thoughts to that cool Pacific air lightly brushing against my skin along Morro’s shoreline. I can almost feel the quiet pull of the bay, tempting me to slip away by kayak toward a secluded sand spit, drifting gently beyond the reach of  ordinary routine.In contrast to the hurried rhythm of my Fort Lauderdale lifestyle as well,  Morro Bay offers a different pace—one that invites pause. Here, time stretches just enough to notice the subtle shapes of clouds, the rugged textures of rock, or the quiet movement of wind through trees. It awakens something deeply visual, almost meditative.

And yet, the most meaningful realization comes when imagination gives way to presence—I am here. On this road trip, Morro Bay is no longer a distant refuge in my mind, but a living, breathing experience renewing my spirit in real time. Soon, I will leave again. But Morro Bay has a way of staying with me—its impressions vivid enough to return whenever I need it most.