Frigid adventure into the Canadian Rockies

Brothers and I trekking into Johnston Canyon.

My brothers and I were carefully making our way across Abraham Lake in the Canadian Rockies on the North Saskatchewan River in western Alberta. Now that’s a sentence I didn’t think I’d ever write!

The lake, Alberta’s largest reservoir, was a frigid expanse of ice stretching to the distant horizon. The temperature was hovering in the mid-teens but thanks to a strong breeze and Mother Nature’s sense of whimsy the mercury felt like it was dipping into negative territory. No problem.

We were mostly prepared for the harsh winter weather that blankets the area around Banff National Park, in fact had been getting ready for a month or two after I messaged my brothers — Gary, Larry and Ian — that I was bored and it was time to plan another wintry adventure.

I suggested Banff. My brothers foolishly agreed.

Searching for bubbles on Abraham Lake.

That’s how we ended up standing on a sheet of ice in search of bubbles — yes, bubbles — filling up the Canadian freezer we were slipping and sliding on during day two of our trip. The bubbles, a dazzling maze of whitish goop held tightly in an icy embrace, are actually frozen pockets of methane gas.

They were just one of the natural wonders and highlights of a day-long mountain photo tour that included stops at a number of iconic spots filled with the heady and awe-inspiring handiwork of Mother Nature and her magical elves — thanks and a tip of the cap to Nick, our splendid guide and photographic guru.

My brothers, all talented photo hobbyist, were weighted down with 20 to 30 pounds of cameras and equipment — extra lenses and polarizing filters, spare batteries and memory cards, remote shutter releases, lens cleaning kits and tripods. I was lugging around an iPhone 11 that weighs in at a tortuous 7.97 ounces! Okay, their photos are probably better composed and a bit more focused and colorful then mine. My arms and back, however, didn’t ache at the end of the day and, to tell the truth, my pictures were just fine!

Stupendous sunrise at Vermillon Lake.

The trip was a memorable, at times spiritually-rich exploration of the wondrous and beautiful gifts in the world if you’re out and about and looking in the right direction. When resting, we camped out in a three bedroom, three-and-a-half bath Airbnb in Canmore, about an hour west of Calgary and 20 or so minutes outside the city of Banff.

We mostly stayed busy driving around Banff National Park, staring somewhat slack-jawed at the snow-capped peaks and pristine valleys that are as ubiquitous in the Canadian Rockies as billboards and pine trees are along I-75 in South Georgia.

Our first road trip found us knee deep in ice and snow at Johnston Canyon, a 30-minute drive north of Banff on the Trans-Canada Highway. The popular site features overhanging Canyon walls and dense vegetation, worn trails, steel catwalks, and a challenging three-mile hike — out and back — to a distant waterfall that during the winter months is transformed into a stunning tower of ice.

Canadian-Pacific train chugging through Morant's Curve.

Three of us managed the trek and were rewarded with spectacular scenery and the chance to watch several ice climbers scale the upper falls.

A day later we were up before the crack of dawn to begin our photo tour of the region. We began the outing at Vermillon Lake to watch the sun rise. We weren’t disappointed. The sun, literally and poetically, brushed the sky with lovely streaks of, wait for it, vermillon.

It was spectacular and an auspicious beginning to a journey brimming with aching beauty that filled both our hearts and cameras with delight. It was also chilly — very chilly!

To battle the elements I wore a base layer of merino wool underwear, a flannel shirt, fleece vest, thermal snow pants and socks, quilted puffer jacket, balaclava and woolen beanie. Finally, after pulling on a pair of Merrill Thermo Chill Mid-Waterproof boots, I was good to go. And go we did.

Trekkers hiking across Bow Lake and the Wapta Icefield.

Most of the day we spent on the Trans-Canada and Icefields Parkways, surrounded by the natural beauty of the Canadian Rockies at a dozen or so stops, including Castle Mountain and Lake Minnewanka, Morant Curve and Lake Louise, Bow Lake, the Wapta Icefield and Howse Pass between Mount Conway and Howse Peak.

Each spot was filled with a preternatural beauty, hard to define and impossible to capture. It was something to be felt and experienced, like a soft breeze in early spring or the stirrings of first love.

Norman Maclean, one of my favorite authors, once wrote about the same idea in much more poetic fashion.

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.”

Me, too.

Getaway to Beantown a chilly, tasty delight

Boston harbor, downtown goes dark as sun sinks below the horizon. 

After a torrid summer and early fall, Wendy and I thought a quick getaway up north might be just what the doctor ordered. So I booked a longish weekend in Boston and we both agree it was a cool -- at times frigid -- way to spend a few days.

Despite Mother Nature's blustery and chilly hello, we managed to crisscross much of the central city, from Back Bay, through downtown into the North End. We also made our way to Cambridge and spent a few hours mostly exploring Harvard on a free walking tour that offered a decent overview of the university and surrounding area.

When not checking out the sights -- Faneuil Hall and the Old State House, Beacon Hill, the Freedom Trail and Boston Common -- we were probably eating! There were quick bites and sweet nibbles, most notably at Boston Chowda in Faneuil Hall -- corn chowda for Wendy and lobster bisque for moi -- and Mike's Pastry in the North End. Can you say cannoli? How about whoopie pie?

Mike's Pastry, an iconic bakery in Boston's North End.

We also managed a couple of leisurely and lavish meals, in and around our hotel just across from Copley Square, at Legal Seafood and Joe's American Bar and Grill. We discovered the restaurants on an earlier trip to the city and found them just as good and tasty this time around.

Truth to tell, much of the fun on this short getaway was simply moving around the city, making our way from here to there. Being out and about in the heart of Boston, a most walkable place, we were able to enjoy the crisp, colorful last days of fall up close and personal.

When we needed to venture further afield there was a subway station -- the Back Bay stop on the city's "T" -- only a block or so from our hotel. The train was clean, comfortable and easy to use.

Out and about and on our way to see "Come From Away".

And while we're on the topic of public transport, the Massachusetts Transit Authority (MTA) offers a free shuttle from Logan International Airport that dropped us off only a block or so from our hotel. The shuttle back to the airport costs a paltry $3 but we were both surprised and delighted to learn that the fee is waived for seniors!

We saved a bunch of money riding the shuttle and -- good news alert -- were also escorted to the front of the security line when we reached the airport, just another perk for using mass transit.

After all the dashing about -- and eating -- and in search of something a bit more relaxing and sedentary, Wendy and I were pleasantly surprised to learn that Boston has an active and vibrant theater scene.

The Old State House in Downtown Boston.

We snagged a couple of tickets for one of our favorite shows, "Come From Away", that was finishing up a month-long run at the Citizens Bank Opera House, aka The Boston Opera House.

We first saw the musical when it opened on Broadway and can happily report that the play and players in Boston captured the same magic and vibe that's made the show a rousing success across the nation.

It remains funny and sad and offers up both a toe-tapping good time along with a timeless and pleasing message of what can happen when a community pulls together to offer aid and comfort to people in need.

The show, along with the historical and natural beauty of the city, tasty meals and snacks, a public transport system that's fast, clean and affordable and Mother Nature's pleasing, if chilly embrace made our little outing something we'll be recalling fondly in coming months. We'll be back!

Back to New York and Into the Heart of Darkness

Times Square goes dark after power outage in Midtown Manhattan.

Wendy and I had much to cheer about during a recent trip to New York.

Two musicals, "Tootsie" and "The Prom", had us and a few thousand other folks on our feet applauding while Billy Joel enjoyed much the same response from 20,000 fans -- that would include Wendy and me -- attending a concert at Madison Square Garden.

But the loudest and most enthusiastic cheers came when the lights flashed on across an expansive swath of Manhattan where we spent an interesting couple of hours in the dark. We weren't alone!

Tens of thousands of tourists and locals, in one of the most densely populated areas of the country, were caught off guard when a transformer blew in Midtown and the lights of the city blinked off and stayed off for nearly five hours.

Made it to Nathan's ... Hot diggity dog!

A Jennifer Lopez concert at Madison Square Garden was abruptly stopped, thousands of fans forced to make their way through the darkened structure onto Sixth Avenue. Shows in the theater district were canceled and tourists with rooms in Times Square's towering hotels were stranded at street level. The outage slowed or stopped subways throughout Manhattan, with ripple effects in the outer boroughs and, just as troubling, street lights and traffic signals across a 60-block area west of Fifth Avenue blinked, grew dim and went dark.

As luck would have it, Wendy and I were on a walking tour of Midtown when first word of the blackout reached us. Since it was still light, we didn't notice anything unusual. After all, unusual is the norm in the Big Apple, ground zero for all things bizarre!

We had arrived in the city a few days earlier and stayed busy eating our way across Manhattan at a few of our favorite spots -- Ben's Kosher Deli in Midtown and Rafele's and S'Mac in Greenwich Village. We also booked several tours -- NBC Studios at Rockefeller Center and Grand Central Terminal, the High Line in Chelsea and, as mentioned earlier, an evening walking tour of Midtown.

We even managed to make it out to Coney Island -- 45 minutes away by subway -- where we took in the sights, including a visit to Nathan's for a little nosh!

Spent some quality time with the on-air talent of the Today Show at NBC.

A few hours later, just outside Grand Central Terminal, the first stop on our walking tour of Midtown, I received a text detailing a possible problem in the area. Our guide Nick was also getting news of the blackout and was trying to figure out the best and safest way to proceed.

Eventually we made it to the southern fringes of Times Square. The block we were on was filled with tourists and all appeared light and bright. But a block north the area seemed swallowed up in a black hole that grew ever darker in the far distance.

Naturally, Wendy and I left the group and immediately headed off into the heart of darkness. Our journey began around 5th Avenue and 42nd Street. There was a smattering of light and people as we trudged toward our hotel, The Warwick, on 6th Avenue and 54th Street.

Blackout hit just moments after we explored Grand Central Terminal.

The only real problem we encountered was when we got to 45th Street. That's where the traffic lights began failing. For the rest of our hike home it became a bit of a challenge simply to make it across each intersection.

We were in total darkness -- the sort of I can't see my hand in front of my face darkness -- after turning onto 54th Street, just a block or so from our hotel. Once there, we made it into the lobby, filled with hot and frustrated tourists all quivering and softly aglow from the light given off by dozens of candles strategically placed about the room.

After quizzing the desk staff -- no, there was nothing new to report and, yes, we could climb nine flights of stairs to our room but, no, that wouldn't be a good idea -- we grabbed a couple bottles of tepid water and made the strategic decision to wait out the blackout on the street.

Coverage in the NY Post.

And that's exactly what we did, along with a few thousand other folks unable or unwilling to make it up to their rooms. Mostly we stayed busy on our phones tracking down the latest news and sharing bits of information with strangers sharing info with us. The good news is most everyone remained calm and in reasonably good spirits despite the hot and humid weather.

It would take another couple hours before the power grid was completely rebooted and Wendy and I made it up to our room. We had just enough time to pack, get a couple hours of sleep, clean up and head to the airport.

By the time we made it back to Atlanta, the city that never sleeps was rubbing the sleep from its metaphorical eyes and opening up for business once again.

Exploring the left coast aboard the Norwegian Bliss

Sunrise as we enter San Francisco Bay.

Wendy and I spent some time recently traveling about the left coast, from Los Angeles to Vancouver, with stops in San Francisco and Victoria.

Most of the getting from here to there was done aboard the Norwegian Bliss, one of the new class of mega-ships that is filled with an assortment of bells and whistles -- water slides, hot tubs and pools, go karts and a large laser tag venue, restaurants, bars and a wannabe shopping mall.

The ship has a crew of 1,200 and can accommodate well over 4,000 guests. The Bliss isn't exactly blissful -- way too many people -- but it is new and sparkly and, I'm thinking, a perfect getaway for young adults traveling with kids.

Anyway you parse it, the lovely Miss Wendy and I are no longer, ah, young and our kids were at home taking care of their kids.

Wendy making her way across Santa Monica Beach.

Fortunately, extending our journey out west both before and after the cruise was a winning idea that turned what could have easily been a lackluster holiday into a memorable adventure.

We stayed in Santa Monica for two days before visiting relatives and friends around Mission Viejo. Santa Monica is a lovely beach community with shops and restaurants, expansive green spaces and an iconic pier filled with additional shops and restaurants.

There's also an amusement park for tourists and, better yet, miles of walking and cycling trails along the nearby beach.

We spent a couple hours following the trail into Venice Beach and exploring the aging hippy community there that has morphed into a sort of hip-hop, grunge and bikers mecca. The area, jarringly, also appears to be home base for many homeless and disenfranchised folks from across Southern California.

Bucket list alert: Cruising under the Golden Gate Bridge.

When we weren't walking or window shopping, we were eating. Wexler's, a New York-style Deli -- aren't they all! -- was conveniently located just a few blocks from our hotel and helped jump start our vacation on a gastronomical high. Can you say pastrami ... hot pastrami!?

Santa Monica proved to be a tasty starter on our holiday getaway, but after dashing about Southern California we were ready for the main course.

The Bliss, despite its shortcomings, managed to deliver us to a couple of world-class ports: San Francisco and Vancouver.

Both cities are touristy delights. They share much in common: expansive green spaces, soaring skyscrapers and picturesque neighborhoods.

They also have splendid waterfronts featuring a pleasant blend of souvenir shops, retail outlets, restaurants, bars and marinas filled with a wide and varied assortment of sailboats, fishing skiffs and sightseeing vessels.

Vancouver's Waterfront offers grand view of city's skyline.

Wendy and I spent a couple hours walking along the waterfront in the City by the Bay, from Pier 39 -- chock full of tourists and a pod of seals -- to Fisherman's Wharf, then up to Ghiradella Square and Russian Hill Park. Off in the distance we could just make out the outline of the Golden Gate Bridge that, hours earlier, we had cruised under as we made our way into San Francisco Bay.

A few days later we were in Vancouver where we spent a longish weekend hoofing it across the city. We went on several walking tours and eventually made our way from Gastown -- an intown neighborhood filled with restaurants and nightclubs, fashion boutiques and art galleries -- to Canada Place, Coal Harbor and Stanley Park.

After our six-hour trek, I posted a few photos and this blurb on Facebook: Take the big city vibe of Manhattan, striking architecture of Chicago, waterfront beauty of Miami and diversity of San Francisco ... stir briskly and garnish with a hockey puck and, voila, Vancouver on the rocks!

I stand by the A-Plus review, however it turns out that the top highlight of our time out west came a couple of days earlier and 60 miles south of Vancouver. After mentioning to several friends that we would be stopping in Victoria, most everyone told us we had to visit Butchart Gardens because, well, it's incredible.

One word to describe Butchart Gardens: Spectacular!

They weren't exaggerating!

The gardens, a National Historic Site in Canada, is about a 40-minute drive from Victoria. It spreads across 55 acres and features 900 bedding plant varieties serviced by 26 greenhouses and 50 full-time gardeners. In a word, the gardens are spectacular -- okay, they are also beautiful and delightful, mesmerizing and other-worldly!

Wendy and I happened to visit when most of the 160,000 Tulip bulbs planted months earlier were on full display. The colorful and fragrant flowers shared space with a wide variety of other plants and trees, including English Daisies and Elephant Ears, Dogwood trees and Trout Lillies, Christmas roses, Hyacinth, Skunk Cabbage, Forget-Me-Nots and Poor Man Orchids.

I don't know the difference between a petunia and a pansy, but the pleasant blend of flowering plants, water features and hardscape designs had me -- and a million other visitors each year -- entranced and thrilled we made it to Butchart, the bloomin' center of the world!

Frigid trip a really cool adventure

Ian, Larry and me all dressed up and ready to explore.

My brother Ian and I were on our way to Jackson Hole Airport, returning to Atlanta after spending a long weekend exploring some of the iconic natural wonders in and around the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone National Parks.

"So, how was your stay," our Uber driver asked as he gingerly maneuvered about the icy roadway between Jackson, Wyo. and the airport.

"Chilly," I said.

The driver chuckled, then responded that that was probably one of the main reasons tourists visited the area in winter, "to get a taste of real frigid weather."

He's probably right; at least that was one of the primary reasons that I and two of my brothers -- Ian and Larry, who had said his goodbyes earlier that day -- had decided to make the trip.

We weren't disappointed.

Temps ranged mostly from lows in the single digits to highs in the mid-20s. Most mornings and late evenings, however, the mercury would dip into minus territory. It was a numbing sort of cold that I had never experienced, a frosty frigidity that attacked with an unforgiving icy grip.

First Stop, the Grand Tetons just outside of Jackson, Wyo.

That's not to say there weren't warm and unforgettable moments during the trip. All three of us had spent time in the area and seen most of the major attractions, but the region glistens with an icy charm during the winter that melts away in the spring and summer.

Since we were all a little skittish about driving on icy roads, we booked two, day-long tours and left the driving and navigating to seasoned guides. The first focused on wildlife around the Grand Tetons and the second on the natural wonders to be found in Yellowstone.

Turns out, even in the dead of winter, there's lots to discover and lots to see if you know where to look. Fortunately Steve, our guide, knew where the elk and bison were wintering; also, a herd of mountain goats, some coyotes, a bald eagle or three, and a wandering moose.

So, why did the moose cross the road? Because he could!

The wildlife was strikingly positioned about the majestic peaks and tranquil valleys of the Grand Tetons, a poetic placement that managed to be both natural and wondrous; thanks and a tip of the beanie to Mother Nature!

The next day we traveled an hour or so north of Jackson in a specially outfitted van -- really big tires to handle roads and trails filled with slush -- to explore the natural wonders of Yellowstone.

The National Park spreads across 3,500 square miles of land in the northwest corner of Wyoming -- it bleeds over into Idaho and Montana -- and I imagine we managed to cover about 50 or so miles from the park's southern entrance to the Upper Geyser Basin.

The area, filled with the largest concentration of geysers in the world, was decked out in a dazzling coat of ice and snow. The sky was a frigid blue, the perfect backdrop for all the natural wonders and beauty on display.

Yellowstone is a geothermal wonderland.

We even got to see Old Faithful pop off before venturing off on a short hike that included an up close and personal look at a series of hot springs and mud pots. The surrounding landscape, meanwhile, offered up an extravagant mural of wintry delights: icy brooks and waterfalls, snow-covered woods and mountain peaks, and achingly beautiful meadows that -- at least poetically -- stretched into tomorrow.

The trip, as expected, was memorable -- and, yes, brutally cold! The weather, however, was manageable because we spent 30 minutes each morning dressing for anything Mother Nature might toss our way.

That meant after tugging on a base layer of Merino wool underwear, I followed with a pair of warm and water-resistant socks, thermal snow pants, a flannel shirt, sweater vest and fleece hoodie, quilted puffer jacket, balaclava and woolen beanie. Finally, after pulling on and lacing up a pair of Merrill Thermo Chill Mid-Waterproof boots, I was good to go. And go we did.

Up Next: Someplace warm and toasty!

Memphis holiday: Two kings and a wedding!

Hannah and David having a grand time at their wedding in Memphis.

Memphis was hot in every way possible. The food, music and weather were sizzling and the vibe was a pleasant mix of southern charm and yiddishkeit.

The lovely Miss Wendy and I were in the city for the wedding of Hannah and David -- he's the son of Candy, my cousin and Wendy's bff. The ceremony, all the parties and other such nuptial high jinks were held in the Peabody Hotel which -- gossip alert -- is owned by the bride's family.

The venue didn't disappoint. It was a ducky delight, a grand and polished inn ornately decorated in high style and featuring a raft of ducks floating about a fountain in the middle of the lobby.

Memphis was a bit grittier.

We were only in the city for a longish weekend and spent the little free time we had walking around Beale Street -- sort of a poor man's Bourbon Street -- and out to the Lorraine Motel, the site where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated.

Parading ducks one of the highlights of Peabody Hotel.

The area has been turned into a world-class civil rights museum, focusing on the country's fetid and shameful history of slavery; the emancipation of African-Americans, reconstruction, and the country's dismal embrace of racial politics during much of the last century; the rise of the Civil Rights movement and impact King had on the nation and the restoration of civil liberties before his murder in 1968.

It's all together an educational and inspirational way to spend a few hours when visiting the city.

Oh, there's another King inextricably linked to Memphis -- the King of Rock and Roll. His life and impact on the world are recalled and memorialized at his home, Graceland, that has been turned into a mecca for fans and tourists.

All gussied up and ready to celebrate.

We passed on the opportunity to check out the tchotchkes -- T-shirts, mugs, hoodies, tumblers, magnets and more -- and the chance to wander around the house and grounds where Elvis relaxed when he wasn't making albums or movies or taking care of business at concerts or performing in Vegas.

But I digress.

After a day or so of sightseeing, the main event -- the wedding -- took center stage. It was lovely, a pleasant blend of ancient traditions -- chuppah, prayers and a beautiful bride circling her handsome mate -- gently updated for a 21st century couple, their family and friends.

The rest of the evening is a blur. I did mention there was booze, right? There was also a wide assortment of hors d'oeuvres, followed by a seated dinner and, wait for it, more booze.

What lingers about most in my foggy memory today is a little surprise offered up by Hannah's parents during the reception. Her mom, Julie, said she was certain Hannah would always recall the day fondly, wishing to hold onto it for at least "One Day More!" See what she did there?

Happy couple still smiling after getting hitched.

On cue, members of Opera Memphis, hidden among the guests and wait staff, began belting out "One Day More" from "Les Miserables". The tune, one of Hannah's favorites, swirled and soared about the ballroom and had everyone -- the bride, the groom, family and friends -- wondering in delight where the next performer would appear to carry on the show.

The song, a choral piece featuring many solos showcasing vocal performances by all the main characters in Les Miz, ends Act One of the musical in rousing fashion, setting the tone for the rest of the show.

In a very real way, the flash mob performance at Hannah and David's wedding offered up a stirring high note at their reception and, just perhaps, has set the tone for the rest of their marriage. Here's hoping they find the same love and happiness -- minus all the operatic drama -- that Cosette and Marius capture by show's end.

Oh, and here's hoping that tomorrow they'll discover ...

What our God in Heaven has in Store!
One more dawn!
One more day!
One day more!

O Canada: Wobbly cruise filled with surprises

Enjoying a few hours in Bar Harbor before entering Canadian waters.

Wendy and I, another passenger and several crew members aboard the Veendam were in an elevator, the captive audience of a fellow traveler and would-be comic.

What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef! What do you call a cow missing two legs? Lean beef! What do you call a woman with one leg? Ilene!

Yes, the humor was lame and so was the humorist. His hands shook as he delivered his practiced one-liners and he had to maneuver his way about the ship with a walker. He wasn't alone.

There seemed to be an entire army of seniors using an assortment of devices -- motorized wheelchairs, walkers and canes -- to remain upright and moving forward. Welcome to Holland America!

For 10 days in late April and the first week of May we battled the elements and all the geriatrics as we made our way along the eastern seaboard of the U.S. The itinerary had us hopping aboard ship in Fort Lauderdale, leisurely cruising the Atlantic for two days before visiting Boston and Bar Harbor in the U.S., then Halifax and Sydney in Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Quebec and Montreal.

Somewhere in the Maritimes as we cruise toward Prince Edward Island.

All did not go according to plan.

A medical emergency on the first full day at sea forced the captain to make a hard left toward Charleston where he managed to rendezvous with a Coast Guard helicopter to off-load an injured passenger. The ailing woman, by the way, is reportedly well on the road to recovery. Unfortunately, the Veendam was woefully off course with little chance of making up lost time quickly.

We arrived in Boston 10 hours late, had no time to get off the ship and were once again cruising north after an additional 75 passengers boarded. The next day we were six or so hours late arriving in Bar Harbor, enough time to dash into the village, snap a few photos and buy a souvenir or two!

The good news, I guess, is that we arrived in Sydney right on schedule. Sadly, the weather had turned cool and misty and there was absolutely nothing -- zip, zero zilch -- to do in the city. Lowlights included circling a mammoth fiddle at the dock and a quick visit to a nearby Tim Hortons for a donut and cup of coffee.

One of the two highlights we discovered in Sydney.

Fortunately, there was plenty to keep us busy aboard the Veendam. Meals were tasty and plentiful -- breakfast, lunch and dinner, mid-morning snacks, afternoon tea and late-evening treats. We also stayed busy working out in the ship's gym most mornings and attending cooking classes taught by a chef from America's Test Kitchen.

There was also a cornucopia of entertainers -- singers and dancers, comics and musicians -- and a piano bar that captured our attention and had us tapping our tootsies most evenings.

Sir Stryker -- yep, that's what he called himself -- was the man behind the piano belting out pop and show tunes and offering up a bit of amusing shtick that was fizzy fun and a grand way to end each day!

Meanwhile, it was drizzling when we docked in Halifax. Once ashore, Mother Nature blasted up with a triple whammy: frigid temps, blustery winds and heavy rain!

Green Gables on Prince Edward Island.

We attempted to battle the elements and make it into the city, but quickly retreated to the safety and relative comfort of several warehouse malls catering to tourists around the port. If nothing else, I now have a cap from Nova Scotia.

I'm happy to report that the storm played out quickly and by the time we reached Prince Edward Island the next morning the weather was pleasant: clear skies and moderate temps in the low 50s. We spent the day mostly hoofing it around Charlottetown in search of tchotchkes, but also managed to make it out to the countryside to visit Green Gables.

The 19th century house, a picturesque cottage at the heart of a series of hugely popular books by Lucy Maud Montgomery, is hidden away in a stand of trees surrounded by vacation cottages and motels. After a pleasant enough drive from here to there and back, a quick visit to yet another Tim Hortons and a walk around the port, we returned to the Veendam.

The next morning we woke to a spray of water from a fireboat just outside the port of Quebec. Turns out we were the first tourists of the season and the city was offering a warm and watery bonjour!

Chateau Frontenac towers above the lower town of Quebec.

At first blush, Quebec is picture-postcard perfect. The old city is a cobblestone maze of colorful restaurants and shops, nestled comfortably below what appears to be a massive castle that, in fact, is a massive hotel: the towering Chateau Frontenac.

Wendy and I spent the day stumbling about on our own and, after a time, with a dozen or so other tourists on a mid-morning walking tour. We were rewarded with an up close and personal look at the city's colonial core, a jarring blend of stone buildings and narrow streets in the upper town. Eventually, we managed to stumble down to the shops and bistros of the lower town, the Petit Champlain, then finished up the day strolling along the northern bank of the St. Lawrence to our ship.

A day later we docked in Montreal, made it to the airport by mid-morning and were back home in time for dinner. Sir Stryker, unfortunately, wasn't around with his piano and patter to help ease our way back into the day-to-day world of dirty laundry, cable news and frozen dinners.

Welcome home ... welcome home, indeed!

Another trip north and another grand adventure!

View of lower Manhattan after hiking across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Feeling a bit restless and having a few hundred bucks in airline credit to burn, it only made sense for the lovely Miss Wendy and me to take yet another nibble out of the Big Apple earlier this year.

We had visited New York in December, but decided to embrace the ancient Talmudic belief that you can never be too thin, too rich or visit Manhattan too often!

Atlanta chums Margaret and Peter, also in need of a chilly getaway, joined us on the trip north the first week of February, adding a whole new level of fun and adventure.

We spent the first afternoon zig-zagging our way about Midtown, strolling by Central Park and the Plaza Hotel, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Radio City Music Hall and Rockefeller Center, Times Square and the Broadway Theater District.

Yummy way to end the day when visiting NYC.

Another ten minutes and five blocks along Broadway and we found ourselves in front of Ben's Kosher Deli -- can you say righteous hot pastrami? Can you say yummy? We can and we did!

An hour or so later, after a deli-licious dinner of corned beef and hot pastrami, chopped liver, matzo ball soup and a choco-licious slice of warm babka, we managed to shuffle our way onto Broadway and back to the Theater District.

Margaret and Peter were off to see "Come From Away", the Tony Award-winning musical focusing on the residents of Gander, Newfoundland and the thousands of airline passengers stranded there following the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center.

Wendy and I had seen -- and enjoyed -- the musical on our last trip to New York, so we decided to spend the evening with Bernadette Peters, aka Dolly Levi, and say "Hello"! It was a splendid, toe-tapping choice and a grand way to end the day.

Up early the next morning, Peter greeted us with the news that New York's a wonderful town, explaining giddily that the Bronx is up and the Battery's down. Okay, I'm playing a little fast and loose with his words so I can get the lyrics of "New York, New York" into this post. But I'm not exaggerating the ebullient vibe that had us all psyched and ready to take on another day in the city.

Wendy and Peter crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.

After a little "ride in a hole in the ground" -- yes, that's another musical reference, this time to the city's world-class subway system -- Margaret and Peter headed over to Ellis Island in search of their ancestral roots, while Wendy and I strolled around the World Trade Center.

In recent years we've visited the "footprint" fountains on the site of the downed Twin Towers and the nearby museum raised in honor and memory of the nearly 3,000 victims of the 9/11 attacks. But we'd never actually been inside the new building.

The structure towers over lower Manhattan, 104 stories of glass and steel soaring a breathtaking -- and symbolic -- 1776 feet high. There are 54 high-speed passenger elevators, a special few that can zip you up to the One World Observatory on the 102nd floor in a stunning 47 seconds.

Both the ride -- the elevators are equipped with digital screens that offer a unique glimpse at the history and growth of the region -- and the observation deck are 21st century amazing!

Wendy and I enjoyed all the bells and whistles that greeted and welcomed us, took time to watch one last video that set the scene, then stood in amazement as the screen lifted revealing a jaw-dropping vista that stretched off to the distant horizon.

World Trade Center towers over lower Manhattan.

The observation deck -- actually two floors that include a snack bar, restaurant, meeting rooms and gift shop -- circles the tower, offering a 360 degree view that includes Manhattan, Queens, Harlem and Long Island to the north and east, the Hudson River and New Jersey to the west, and Staten Island, much of Brooklyn and the Jersey shore to the south.

If you're lucky -- and we were -- you can see forever. A gaggle of skyscrapers, roadways, bridges and green space dot the landscape. It all blends together like the phantasmagoric work of a master builder, a mighty ode to the greatness of America.

During a 30-minute stroll, high above it all, we managed to spot Central Park and Rockefeller Center; the United Nations, Chrysler and Empire State buildings; the Manhattan, Brooklyn and Verrazano-Narrows bridges; Times Square and the Statue of Liberty.

After making our way back down to earth and meeting up with Margaret and Peter, we wandered about Greenwich Village, visiting Chelsea Market, the nearby High Line, a 1.45-mile-long elevated linear park, greenway and rail trail, and Washington Square.

We then began a slow and chilly trek up Fifth Avenue. In fact, trekking pretty much filled the next day or so.

Margaret takes a little spin on a carousel in Brooklyn.

Before calling it quits and heading back to the land of cotton and warmer temps, we criss-crossed midtown yet again, traveled back to lower Manhattan and hiked across the Brooklyn Bridge into the Heights and the gentrified district of DUMBO.

We then stumbled about SOHO, NOHO and the East Village before making our way to Rafele -- can you say sangria? It's one of our favorite New York restaurants just the other side of Bleecker Street in the West Village and only a hop, skip and a cannoli away from Rocco's, a pasticceria worth visiting if you're in the neighborhood. We were and we did!

Weary, but happy, Wendy and I bid our traveling companions a fond farewell the next morning and returned home -- Margaret and Peter hung around Gotham another two days. To paraphrase Julius Caesar: We came, we saw, we ate, drank and conquered. And so it goes!

Bailey Boo and New York, Too!

Bailey, Bubbe, Lauren and Josh out and about in NYC.

Our winter getaway this year was a family affair to New Jersey and New York, a couple of days to attend and celebrate our grand niece Jessica's Bat Mitzvah, mixed with a few days to chomp away at The Big Apple yet again!

Highlights included Bailey flying the friendly skies of United for the very first time and riding a train, then venturing in to Manhattan and getting chilled to the bone, dancing the night away at her cousin's party and filling up on enough sugar to keep her spinning about for hours.

We also spent some quality time with Lauren and Josh, first in Jersey with family and friends, then into the Big Apple for a quick trip around Times Square and Rockefeller Center. Then we were off to the Upper East Side to try out the pastrami at a little hole in the wall, The Pastrami Queen, that came highly recommended. Two words: Good Eats!

On Sunday, after a few days of folks and fun, Wendy and I returned to the city after dropping Lauren, Josh and Bailey at the airport in Newark. We generally spend a longish weekend in Manhattan in late January, but decided to go ahead and eat our way across the city and attend a few shows since we were already in the area.

Great view of lower Manhattan from Brooklyn Heights.

We mostly wandered about the neighborhoods in Chelsea and Greenwich Village, revisting a few of our favorite restaurants and bakeries -- Rafele and Rocco's in the West Village and S'MAC, always a cheesy delight, just this side of SOHO. We also took a walking tour that had us trekking across the Brooklyn Bridge, offering up amazing views of lower Manhattan, with stops in Brooklyn Heights and Dumbo -- trust me, it's a New York sort of thing!

We only had time for two shows and decided to take a chance on the Rockettes and the annual Christmas Spectacular at Radio City. It was definitely a spectacle, sort of a mega-cruise ship production on steroids. I'm thinking it's the type of show that a kind and forgiving critic would roll their eyes at, then report truthfully that "a good time was had by all!"

We also made it to Broadway to see "Come From Away," the Tony award-winning musical focusing on the residents of Gander, Newfoundland and the thousands of airline passengers stranded there following the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center.

"Come From Away" funny, sad and delightful.

It's a creative and energetic production, funny and sad, filled with music that manages to be both uplifting and melancholy. The story had Wendy and me laughing, crying and up on our feet cheering with the rest of the sold-out house when the final curtain came down!

The trip, unfortunately, became a bit of a jarring adventure, thanks to the weather and an electrical fire that messed up the return journey home. The kids' flight was delayed, then canceled when the airport in Atlanta suffered a blackout that played havoc with flight schedules around the globe.

Lauren, Josh and Bailey were forced to spend an extra night in New Jersey; thanks and a tip of the cap to our niece and her family who provided them with a place to rest for the night and got them back to the airport the next day. The flight delay and cancellation eventually had them flying to Nashville, renting a car and driving the final four hours back home to Atlanta.

Josh, Lauren and Bailey finally on the way back home.

Meanwhile, Wendy and I boarded our flight right on time, but flew smack dab into a torrential thunderstorm hovering about northern Georgia. We spent 30 minutes of the flight being battered by high winds, then white-knuckled our way through an aborted landing before arriving safely, if a little shaken, at Hartsfield Jackson -- aka, the Atlanta airport!

I'm holding on to the idea that often a trip is just a trip, but when something goes wrong it all becomes an adventure. So I'm pretty sure that our little trip up north this year was a grand holiday and one heck of an adventure!

Turbulent flight home a white-knuckling, shaky affair

Sky cloudy, but calm in Newark as we board afternoon flight home.

Most everyone has an "airplane" story, and now I do as well.

Wendy and I returned home earlier this week from a trip to New Jersey and New York, a couple of days with family in Jersey and a couple of days chomping away at The Big Apple yet again!

We were flying United Air out of Newark and managed to make it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I was worried the flight might be delayed or canceled since the weather in and around Atlanta was bad -- fog, rain, possible thunderstorms and high winds.

But the boarding call came right on time and we were in the air and headed south just as the sun was casting a golden glow across the western horizon. All was good, for the moment. About an hour or so into the two-hour flight, the plane's PA system squawked to life and a flight attendant calmly announced that the captain had just reported there might be some light to moderate turbulence in a few minutes.

There was; a little shaking and rattling, then a bit more, followed by nothing but smooth air -- at least for the moment. The PA squawked to life yet again 30 minutes later and the flight attendant announced we were on our final approach to Atlanta and would be landing soon. Just a few minutes later there was a gentle nudge that had the plane dipping a bit, followed by a series of bumps that rattled my teeth and had me and others grabbing for anything solid within reach.

The buffeting continued, growing more intense with each passing second. There was now a jarring blend of nervous laughter and squeals mixing with the rattling of stuff as the plane shimmied and shuttered its way to the ground.

Storm clouds, high winds and rain made for a rocky flight.

A young woman, sitting in a seat directly in front of me, had become increasingly agitated as the turbulence intensified, finally calling out for help. Most everyone wanted to help, but short of latching onto a skyhook, there was simply no way to battle the elements and stop the shaking.

I heard the plane's flaps and wheels lowering and it seemed we'd be touching down in a minute or so. Unfortunately, the turbulence continued to intensify. One moment we were headed down and an instant later the engines roared to life. We picked up speed and began rising above the airport. The shaking and rattling strengthened, the frightened woman in front of me rolled into a fetal position and more than a few passengers, I imagine, were quietly chatting with God.

After another few moments, that seemed like an eternity, the turbulence slackened and a moment or so later the PA came back to life. It was the pilot this time, talking in his very best "Right Stuff" voice and explaining he'd aborted our initial landing because of high winds and rain, that we were circling back for another try and would be on the ground in 15 minutes.

Fortunately, this time around, the weather had improved and the captain stuck the landing to relieved applause.

I happened to pass the distraught young woman in the terminal who told me she'd never fly again. I lamely responded that, yes, it was a very difficult flight but that she should remember that a trip is often just a trip, but when something goes wrong it becomes an adventure.

A few minutes later I saw a group of flight attendants from our plane and, curious and looking for a little context, I asked them what they thought of the flight. One young attendant began to shrug her shoulders when an older colleague blurted out, "bumpy as hell!"

And so it was.

National treasure hidden away in plain sight!

Antelope Canyon: A surrealist dream come to life.

Antelope Canyon spread all about, a swirl of colors and twisting shapes, beautiful and poetic. Climbing down into the lower canyon is like tumbling into a serpentine maze that manages to be both claustrophobic and expansive. The hidden space -- it's beneath the scarred and sun-bleached landscape of northern Arizona -- is just one of many highlights on a recent trip out West with two of my brothers and a nephew.

The journey began in another colorful place, Las Vegas, a jarring mix of ginormous hotels and casinos, souvenir shops and bars, upscale retail stores, malls and specialty restaurants. Hordes of tourists, conventioneers and locals jostle their way along the city's neon-soaked strip, the air heavy with the stench of cigarette smoke, hope, greed and, yes, sadness.

After all, only a week earlier a gunman had murdered 58 people attending a country music concert in Vegas and injured hundreds of others in what is now considered the deadliest mass shooting in modern American history. That's not to suggest that the city has gone dark. It continues to twinkle, especially at night when a pleasing blend of music and lights offer up dreams of hedonistic delights that add weight and meaning to the city's marketing slogan, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!"

Las Vegas: Still twinkling despite recent tragedy.

For me and my traveling companions -- Gary, Larry and Ryan -- the city was mostly a footnote on this trip, a brief stop and gathering spot. Truth to tell, we were much more interested in spending time with Mother Nature then ogling showgirls or feeding the slots!

The good news is that it only takes a moment to shake the Vegas vibe and find a welcoming landscape of craggy hills and sun-baked plains nearby. I-15 splits Vegas and crawls across the southeast corner of Nevada, just touching the northwest tip of Arizona before playing out in southern Utah.

Mother Nature has done a splendid job here, filling the region with natural wonders and beauty: soaring mountains and majestic canyons; verdant meadows and burbling brooks; pristine rivers and lakes and an abundance of wildlife. So it's not at all surprising that the area has a number of state and national parks featuring a wide range of awesome sights.

Finally out and about, our little group took a short break at Valley of Fire State Park, 50 miles northeast of Las Vegas. It's mostly a bleak and desolate prairie filled with brilliant formations of eroded sandstone and sand dunes, all aflame in shades of orange. The landscape is grand an unique, both bizarre and beautiful.

Zion National Park: Grand and Unique, stunning and beautiful.

Truth to tell, such words and thoughts could be mixed and matched and easily used to describe the half dozen or so places we visited over the next several days, including Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon and the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument in Utah. We then turned south and, backtracking a few hours, explored the Glen Canyon National Recreation area and a couple of slot canyons buried in a rocky and remote area of Arizona known as the Navaho Nation Land.

The canyons, the last stop on our mystical and magical dance with Mother Nature, provided a colorful exclamation point for the journey. Only a day earlier we had been walking about the ancient hoodoos of Bryce Canyon -- tall, thin spires of rock that spilled across the landscape -- certain that we had been privy to the very best Gaia had to offer.

Au contraire mon ami!

Bryce Canyon: Bizarre hoodoos dot the landscape.

The lower Antelope Canyon, on the outskirts of Page, Ariz., is a surrealistic dream come to life, a glorious blend of light and color, eroded rock and Navaho sandstone. Flash floods helped form the undulating corridor, smoothing out hard edges over time and creating "flowing" shapes in the rock.

The canyon, opened to the public in the mid-1990s, is about 120 feet deep. You enter from above, gingerly working your way down a series of metal steps, in some spots having to squirm through small openings in the rock with little to hold onto. Once on the ground you'll have to weave your way along the twisting canyon floor, squeezing around spots where the path becomes pinched and outcroppings of rock block your path.

The traveling gang: Ron, Gary, Larry and Ryan.

The trip, of course, is worth the effort.

I've been fortunate enough to see a number of natural and man-made wonders in my life: the Grand Tetons and Grand Canyon; the Eiffel Tower and Tower of London; Masada and the Western Wall; the Empire State Building and the Golden Gate Bridge!

The Antelope Canyons easily rest alongside these other places as wonderful and wondrous. The lower canyon is both beautiful and awesome; its colors and shapes an ode to the quiet, unyielding power of nature. Given the right frame of mind, it's here and in other such sanctuaries that I find the static of life gives way to something grand and sacred, a national treasure hidden away in plain sight!

Las Vegas: Twinkling lights and a memorial for the dead

Vegas Strip remains bright and dazzling despite recent tragedy.

The first surprise when stepping onto the Las Vegas strip in early October is the weather. The blast furnace of summer has clicked off in recent days and been replaced with moderate temps that hover in the low 80s. It's still warm, but not unbearably hot, and crowds of tourists are out and about like bees in search of nectar.

For first-time visitors, getting around can be an unexpected challenge. The massive scale of the hotels and casinos that line Las Vegas Boulevard -- Caesars Palace and Circus Circus; the Luxor and MGM Grand; Bellagio, the Venetian and a dozen or so others -- give the impression that a festive playground is easily within reach. It's not.

The resorts are huge and trekking about is a tiresome and time-consuming affair. The illusion is only magnified when the sun goes down and the Vegas lights come fully alive, offering up a dazzling, multi-colored fantasy land.

Memorial honors 58 people killed by deranged gunman.

It's this twinkling world, filled with dreams of hedonistic delights that adds weight and meaning to the city's marketing slogan, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!" Tragically, the dream morphed into a nightmare earlier this month when a deranged gunman opened fire from his suite in a high-rise hotel, the Mandalay Bay, raking a nearby concert venue with thousands of rounds of gunfire.

In just a little over 10 minutes, the shooter managed to murder 58 people, injuring hundreds more in the deadliest mass shooting in modern American history. Police report that in the midst of one 31-second span, the shooter fired a staggering 280 rounds, roughly nine bullets every second.

I'm in Vegas to meet up with two of my brothers and  nephew, a brief stop and gathering spot for a trip that will take us across southern Utah to Bryce Canyon and Zion National Park. But for the moment I have joined with dozens of other tourists to walk about a temporary memorial resting at the foot of the neon-soaked sign welcoming visitors to "fabulous" Las Vegas, Nevada!

And off in the distance a yuuuge golden blemish.

The space is filled with a jarring mix of balloons and banners, flowers, candles and personal notes and prayers for the victims. A line of wooden crosses, one for each person killed, cuts across the grounds, a sobering remembrance and reminder of this most recent madness.

This isn't the first such memorial I've visited. Last year I was in Orlando only weeks after 49 people were murdered at Pulse, a gay bar on the southern fringes of the downtown area. The Vegas memorial echoes the melancholy vibe found there and, sadly, in another few days, perhaps a week or two, the lawn here will be swept clean and Las Vegas will become yet another painful memory of a place where evil once visited.

The names of the dead and injured in attacks stretching back decades are mostly forgotten in a world moving at the speed of light. Inevitably, the locations are what we recall: Columbine, Blacksburg, Newtown, Aurora, Fort Hood and Charleston; San Bernadino, San Ysidro, Washington, D.C. and Tucson.

City a jarring mixture of hope, greed and really expensive cars.

The full list spans the country. No region is immune to the momentary madness of mostly boys and men directed by hate, fear and a grotesque anger fueled by job and personal issues, teen angst and mental illness.

Our political leaders, starting with the yamster-in-chief in the Oval Office, have offered their thoughts and prayers while, yet again, failing to take any sort of legislative action to deal with the problem. Their tepid response, a predictable show of institutional madness, is simply to ignore the issue. It's a rancid position -- bought and paid for by the NRA -- that will certainly result in additional slaughter, thoughts and prayers!

Some "patriots" argue the lack of gun control, the shootings and mass murder, is the price of freedom. If that's the case then the cost is too high. That becomes clear in the heartbreak that hangs heavily above the Vegas strip this day and the knowledge that other innocent victims will be picking up the check in coming years.