Category Archives: Travel Tales

Striking a pose he must have seen in an REI calendar, Andrew stood on a large rock, scanning the valley below with his hands at his hips and his feet spread to support the weight of his backpack. I turned … Continue reading →

I have an uncanny ability to turn peaceful outings into dangerous ones. I’m also quite skilled in convincing others that joining me on these endeavors is a good idea. By the time two French couples and I reached the resort … Continue reading →

Our station wagon came to a rattling stop alongside a curb in Welsh, Louisiana. My cousin Wesley and I stepped out into the humid August air squinting and slightly confused. Our clothes were mismatched and awkward. Our skin was coated … Continue reading →

I try not to be the stereotypical stupid tourist when I travel. Before I go somewhere, I look into guidebooks, consult friends, websites – you name it. I do all of this so that when I arrive in a foreign … Continue reading →

I never thought I’d hear the phrase “yes, the milkman should be coming Tuesday” used in normal conversation. And I certainly never imagined hearing the words “oh, I think I may have left them in the castle” spoken in sincerity. … Continue reading →

Sand swallowed up our every footstep as David and I approached the desert compound. The man shrouded in shade continued on his path towards us. I was anxious to see him in the light – curious about what he looked … Continue reading →

There’s a place called Snowtown in South Australia. Twenty years ago, its only interesting attribute was having the name of a fanciful ski village, despite being located on level ground where it never snows. These days, however, it’s best known … Continue reading →

Andrew and I were over three months into our European adventure, so I guess it was about time for us to go complete hobo. We had come close a few times – tenting in wine fields on a Grecian isle, … Continue reading →

I stood above the river on a small rise. The steep mountains to the south still glowed with the evening sun, but the surrounding landscape dimmed. As the desert cooled off, I placed my propane stove on a rock and … Continue reading →

My life has never revolved so singularly around a particular fruit than during my time in Mclaren Vale. There, I lived by the grape. I picked them, I constantly ate them and most nights, I drank them. One particular night, … Continue reading →