Plan of Attack

Okay, I've spent plenty of time and a lot of bandwidth drifting around with a variety of topics, and not really talking about the actual planning/execution of a trip. Time to change that. 




Doing it Right

Planning a trip – those meant for fun, of course – should be part of the game. Even if you choose to use a travel agent (which, if you have the budget, I highly recommend) you ought to be heavily involved in the process. In sports and business we’d call this “having skin in the game”.

Road Trip!!!

I’ve never been an advocate for what I’ll call the Follow-Along trip. You know the kind. Someone else decides the itinerary, someone else makes all the arrangements, someone else makes sure you get from point A to destination B and back again. And while I have genuinely enjoyed cruising as a form of vacation, cruising is a Follow-Along voyage. The cruise line determines the ports of call; the cruise line determines the off-ship adventures. I like to be a bit more spontaneous than that, even though I recognize and appreciate the value of such planned adventures.

The author, in Hell

(Disclaimer: I have taken a cruise precisely six times. Two of them are in the far distant memory of childhood so don't really count. Two of our four adult-aged voyages took place along Mexico’s West Coast, and one other in the Caribbean. If you've been reading the blog -- and one has to assume you wouldn't see this line if you weren't, well, reading the blog -- you've already read about number four, the recent Windstar adventure around the Italian boot last August. On the side trips we took for each of these cruises, we went to some fascinating places – the town of Copala in the Sierra Madre; Positano; the ruins of Tulum; and the town of Hell in the Cayman Islands. Genuinely enjoyed all of these trips, but were, in essence, along for the ride rather than in control of our own itinerary. Nothing like finding a wonderful place to explore, only to have to keep checking your watch to make sure you're not missing the bus.)

In the planning of your trip you have four major considerations: destination; time; transit; and budget. Everything else will fall under each of those categories. Sometimes these parts of the overall adventure can be as much fun as the trip itself. Sometimes.

Destination

Take an Umbrella

The "destination" might not be an actual destination at all. It may be a series of destinations, such as a cruise or self-planned "hopper" voyage, or the final place may not even be the focus -- maybe it's the transit to that place that's the central point. For example, driving across the country is not about arriving at the other end. It’s about the part in the middle, the areas you see as you progress from state to state and region to region. A drive, say, from New York to Los Angeles is not about Los Angeles, it’s about the towns and cities and landmarks in between. In the central US you will see the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, the Gateway Arch, Zion Canyon, the Rockies and the Great Plains (though not in that particular order unless you’re lost). If you choose to dip further south and take route 40 across, you visit Virginia’s battlefields, Graceland and Nashville, Meteor Crater and (with a short side trip) the Grand Canyon.

So. Where are you going and why??? If the destination is the thing (going to Key West for a week), that’s where you ought to focus. If it’s the trip, then that is where the energy should go. Don’t sell yourself short and spend time on things that will mean little to you in the long-run. Make the trip memorable, and to do that you need to understand what it is you truly want to accomplish.

Time

Explore the local culture and shopping

How much time do you have for the overall vacation? Do you really want to try to see the entirety of the middle United States if you’ve only got seven days? (It can be done, but you’ll look back and realize it was more like counting coop than actually seeing anything).

Likewise, don’t eat up your time in transit. If you want to see Australia but only have a single week for the trip, do you really want to spend nearly a quarter of that precious time on a plane? Be realistic. Unless the point of the visit is to “count coop” -- for example: I intend to visit Point Barrow, Alaska, some day. It will be a day up and a day back. I don’t anticipate more than a day or two in Point Barrow, but it’s the seeing of the Arctic Ocean I’m after not visiting the surrounding tundra. In this case, the destination is the purpose, but won’t require more than a day to take in. (I could be wrong -- I'll let you know if this  earns me a nasty-gram from the Pt Barrow Visitors Bureau...).

Transit

How are you going to get there – and is the conveyance part of the enjoyment? Is it a necessary evil? Do you intensely dislike airports but are headed for a small Caribbean island? There are compromises, but also common sense.

If your destination is New York City, for example, and you live close enough to drive there – but you know you won’t need a car once in the city, why would you pack everyone up into your Ford and spend the money on gasoline? If you’re lucky you may find parking for less than $100 a day somewhere near your hotel, and – if you’re lucky – getting into the city won’t be too difficult with the traffic patterns, and – if you’re lucky – you don’t get too lost in the one-way streets and racing taxicabs.

I’ve driven in New York -- and Paris and Washington, DC and London and Los Angeles, to name a few. "Behind the wheel" isn’t a good way to see Times Square. Trust me on this.

Take the train in or a plane. Likewise, don’t count on driving to Santa Catalina Island off the coast of Long Beach. You can’t get there with a car, so renting one from the airport just to park it at “Catalina Landing” is likewise not a good idea.

On the other hand, a car is essential to trips to the Grand Canyon or most of the other destinations you may be considering – while it would be ridiculous to plan on driving fromFlorida to Seattle if you’ve only got a week.

Budget

Look. I LOVE to splurge as much as the next guy. Okay. More than the next guy. Okay. A LOT more than the next guy, but that isn’t my point.

"Free" is good!

If you’re on a motel budget accept that reality and move on. There's nothing wrong with being prudent. Don’t put your house into foreclosure for a week at the Bellagio, when deals can be found at the Imperial Palace and Circus, Circus for a fraction of the cost. Don’t book expensive and time-consuming flights to Saint Martin when you can drive to Virginia Beach, South Padre or Laguna Beach in the same six-hours it would take to get to the islands. (And probably with a good deal less stress. Have you been to Miami International Airport??? There’s a reason they call it “MIA”)

Overdoing your budget might make for an extravagant vacation, but the stress of each swipe of the credit card – not to mention the months’ long process of paying it off – negates the very purpose of the trip. Understanding and accepting your budget will pay off (*ahem*, forgive the pun) in the long run. If you genuinely, truly, must splurge find an expensive restaurant on the waterfront somewhere and ask for patio seating. That is far more memorable than the extra bucks you might plunk down for that suite at the Venetian – and a much more relaxing way to count the dollars as they peal out of your wallet.

Time to Chill, Grab a Burger

If you have a champagne budget, weeks of freedom, love the airports and have been everywhere at least once before, then knock yourself out and let others plan your vacations for you.

If, on the other hand, you enjoy the process, know what you want to see, know how you want to get there (and spend the time once you have), and understand that monies are not unlimited -- then get involved, get your hands (and feet) dirty and plan the trip out so that there is room for adventure but not for unpleasant surprise. You’ll be astounded how much more fun you have while actually vacationing instead of counting coop.

Blaze your own trail!

Night of the Mantas

For the first time since beginning this blog a few years ago I am using the work of another photographer. 

James Wing  is a renowned oceanographic photographer and videographer. It was my pleasure to meet him briefly aboard the Hula Kai, the boat used in the expedition below. Wing's work is extraordinary, and given the challenges of shooting this sort of adventure I asked -- and received -- permission to use his work here. All underwater images below are copyright 2012 James Wing, Mantaskona.com. 

(Thanks, Jim!)

Vacations...not just travel, but vacations...often give us the opportunity to escape the everyday world. That's kind the the purpose behind taking them, in fact. Escaping the everyday world.

And when that escape means traveling, it expands the opportunity by giving us a chance to do something new and unusual. During our recent trip to Maui -- introduced in my last blog entry -- the emphasis was, indeed, on getting out doing new things. And, as you might expect given the location, several of them had to do with water. Specifically, the ocean. Any reader of the blog knows I am a huge fan of oceans, never having lived more than a relatively short drive away from one and often finding myself surrounded by them while away from home. (The exceptions being work-related trips which, for some strange reason keep landing me in places like Phoenix, Philadelphia, and in one particularly bad August week, Jackson, Mississippi. But I digress...)

Long time friends and readers also will recall I'm a huge proponent of Phil Keoghan's NO OPPORTUNITY WASTED (NOW!) List for Life philosophy. If you're not familiar, think a more sophisticated and take-action form of Bucket List. Not just for wishing, Phil suggests you not only have a list, but you actively plan its execution. 

So finding ourselves planning a trip to Maui gave us a number of Life List opportunities. One such activity, as I discussed last time, was seeing the sun rise over Mount Haleakala, an absolutely stunning experience worthy of its reputation.

The two other activities of note involved communing with wildlife. Sea life, to be exact. As we were planning the details of the trip, my wife reminded me that one of her premiere NOW items was to swim with manta rays off the coast of the Big Island. Sensing an opportunity...pun intended...we looked into the possible options and happily noted that the location was right off the coast of the Sheraton Keauhou Bay, just south of Kona.

The view from the Sheraton

(I'm a member of Starwood Preferred Guests -- so this worked to our advantage. Since we had extra points in their program, and planned to stay at the Westin Kaanapali during our stay on Maui, this gave us some symmetry in hotel choices. We booked two nights in Keauhou, with a flight into Kona instead of straight to Maui as first intended.)

We arrived in the islands on a Thursday night and that evening went out onto the manta ray viewing platform at the Sheraton. Under previous ownership, the hotel had years ago begun turning on bright lights for their dinner guests to be able to dine under the stars but enjoy an ocean view at the same time. As often happens with man-made changes to the the rhythms of the natural world -- in this case illuminating the ocean during nighttime hours-- the lights had an impact on the environment, attracting billions of plankton from the dark waters if the Pacific. By chance, plankton are the favored food of mantas, and, well, nature being what it is, mantas began to be attracted to the coastal resort as well.

The Hula Kai and sister ship tie up

Flash forward a decade or so, and you've got something special.

Each night the resort turns in their lights, and a pair of "official" tour groups set sail from a nearby harbor to anchor just off the shoreline. Around 30 guests in total. A specially constructed boom of lights is lowered into the water, providing a convenient grip for the guest snorkelers which prevents anyone from drifting off and getting lost. Donning a wetsuit, each person gets into the waters and swims to the boom, finding a place and settling in. Within a few moments in our case, a cry went up soon after everyone was lined up. A palpable ripple of energy went down the line as we waited expectantly for the first manta to heave into view.

I'll pause for a second to describe the setup. 

copyright James Wing, 2012

You're floating, face down, hands tightly gripping the pad on the boom. Lights from the boat illuminate the sea floor some thirty feet down, and you've got other snorkelers to each side of you. Well below a professional diver/videographer records the scene. When you see him shift, pointing his camera and lights to the side, a thrill runs through you unlike any I've experienced before. Something mixing a respectful awe with a sense of fear as to what is just outside your view.

copyright James Wing, 2012

Then we see it. The diver swims backward as a large black shape cuts across the bottom. The manta. It swims effortlessly forward with a gentle thrust of it's wings, executing a casual, almost lazy, arc upward and its pure white abdomen comes into view. The manta continues up on its curve, skimming just inches from the snorkelers. 

copyright James Wing, 2012

 Despite the fact our heads and ears are under water you hear the amazed exclamations of everyone around you, and it's almost impossible not to join in the chorus. It really is something breathtaking and near zen like in its beauty. The manta continues in what has now become a series of progressive arcs up, skimming the swimmers, and down again to the bottom. On the boat we were told that thus is the way the mantas feed on their microscopic food. But it takes a bit of courages as that massive wide-open maw comes at you so closely you can look down the manta's gullet. Is this what it's like to be a plankton, you wonder? Reassuringly there are no teeth gaping at you, and you begin to relax as the manta continues its lazy dance down the line. 

Moments later it is joined by another, and yet another. They take turns, gently gliding through our view, in a graceful ballet. Since we cannot see the plankton other than as a faint "mist" in the water, it seems as if they're simply flying blissfully through the dark ocean. 

Finally, a monster pulls into view. 

copyright James Wing, 2012

The diver turns his camera and lights on the massive newcomer -- we are told later this is "Big Bertha", the largest manta anyone has seen in these waters. And a giant she is. Her wingspan is reportedly fourteen feet, tip to tip. She dwarfs the diver below. But as she begins her own turns, scooping her meal just inches from our masks, she is a graceful and beautiful leviathan of the deep. Nervous giggles and expressions of amazement can be heard through the water as she moves down the line. 

The show goes on for more than half an hour, and there's a sense of loss when it finally ends. At some point, without warning, the appearances get longer and longer between, until, at last, you see the diver give the "all done", and slowly the tourists are herded back onto the boats for hot chocolate and soup. The swimmers are all exhausted after the time spent gripping the boom -- you don't realize how tightly until you try to climb back onto the boat. But each person excitedly describes what they saw, and how they saw it.

It's a moment in our lives very few of us will ever forget.

Me, to the right of the light (copyright James Wing, 2012

The night manta cruise is conducted by Fair Wind, and can be booked at
http://www.fair-wind.com/hula-kai/manta-dive-hawaii

More of James Wing and his team's work can be seen and purchased at
http://www.mantarayshawaii.com/ and
http://www.dolphindreams.com/


Read more about the challenges facing ocean life and what you can do to help at
http://www.oceanlifeline.org/

Get a copy of Phil Keoghan's NO OPPORTUNITY WASTED at
http://www.noopportunitywasted.com/

The View from Above

This is the first of three entries detailing our recent trip to the Hawaiian Islands. The visit was planned as completion of several items on our NOW Life List (TV presenter Phil Keoghan's philosophy for accomplishing things you've always wanted to do). Plans went exceptionally well, and we've managed to notch a handful of things off the list. This entry covers my intent to some day see the sunrise over Maui's Mount Heleakala, commonly considered one of the most beautiful in the world.


As usual, the adventure begins at o'dark thirty. Truly, this time, as at 2:30am sharp I am picked up by Glenn, the driver for a morning expedition up Maui's famous Mount Haleakala to view what is considered to be one of the most beautiful sunrises in the world.

I am the first guest of what will eventually be 21 hearty souls braving the early morning and darkness to make the two hour drive -- well, drive for Glenn...just a ride for the rest of us --- to the volcanic mountain's crater.


It is pitch black as we head south out of Lahaina, making the bend from Maui's western shore into the island's central valley, a preliminary for the planned ascent up the 10,000 plus foot Haleakala. A few more stops to gather passengers and we're promised a stop at a convenience store for coffee, a sorely needed commodity for the sleepy tourists in the minibus.

Glenn is an affable, friendly guy with a classic beach boy vibe that betrays the storehouse of knowledge he possesses regarding Haleakala and the history of Maui itself. He came to the islands 28 years ago to work construction, transitioning to his tourism job just five years ago when the carpenter jobs dried up in the midst of the oncoming recession. No regrets, he insists. "It's hard to complain when your office is a Haleakala sunrise." There's no question he adds considerably to the texture of the trip.

From the visitors center outlook

 We stop for twenty or so minutes at the Minit Stop in Kahalui to get supplies and pick up the other bus' passengers. During the wait we're entertained by some late-nighters who have been enjoying their night just a little too hard. Our group makes last minute runs to the restroom before the door is shut and we're off on the second leg.

An hour or so later, as part of a many car/tour bus convoy making its way up the highway. We arrive while it's still dark, and huddle in the warm confines of the bus until Glenn spies the very earliest glow over the eastern horizon. It's time, he says, to get our spots on the rail.

Sunrise over the crater

 For no reason other than my personal adventurousness, I leave the group and head up the narrow pathway in the dark. It isn't lit, but you can find your way if you're not in a rush. going through the restroom buildings I soon locate and buckle up to the railing. It's still to early to see much more than a thin line marking the horizon, so I Braille my way through my equipment, set up the tripod and mount the D50 for pre-sunrise shots. Later I plan to switch the Nikon to hand-held once the lighting allows for it, replacing it with the video cam to catch the sunrise itself.

It's roughly 40 degrees at the outlook. It's chilly without being cold, though a few people around me might disagree. Off to my right two people huddle with a heavy blanket, while I overhear two young women behind me comment on someone they see wearing shorts. (!)

There is a calm that overtakes you as you see the first glint of gold on the clouds in the distance. The proverbial silver lining, but her in the islands it's pure golden in tone. We note, happily, that the cloud layer is below us, and sky above a spectacular deep blue. The horizon becomes bands of orange and yellow as the light increases. Then, a pinpoint of bright, pristine light.

Glenn (backwards cap) and others at the summit

I'm overcome by a sense of awe, a sense of insignificance and wonder. The crowd, now numbering over a hundred, goes silent. And as they do, suddenly, nearby and behind me off to my right, I hear a woman begin to sing. An old Hawaiian song to greet the new morning. As she sings, the light grows and begins to glint colorfully against the clouds below. There is a real reverence in the crowd at participating in this moment. 

(You do not simply "see" the sun rise on Haleakala, you experience it. You participate.)

Soon the entirety of the sun is up and visible, and the moment is over. The singer, entirely anonymous to most of us, thanks the crowd and welcomes us to the new day

Silverswords

before leaving us to pack our belongings. 


The crowd mills around, taking pictures of themselves and others with the sun and crater as backdrop. I help a few of them out, making sure everyone I'd using a flash (otherwise all you get are silhouettes against the sky). I slowly pack up and take a moment to browse the visitors center. 


I don't want it to end, but by the time I get back to the tour bus I'm the last to arrive. Glenn smiles and gets me on board where I take my seat and we head further up the mountain to the 10,043 foot summit. 

My mind remains, however, at that moment on the rail, when the first gold fleck appeared along the clouds. For perhaps the first time as a photographer I feel my work cannot convey the moment, the clarity, the impact of the event. And for that, I apologize. If you find yourself transported, even for a moment, to the top of the mountain, I am glad. I have to dip my head and acknowledge that at times such as these, all I can do is provide a taste. Hopefully it will convince you to try it for yourself some day.

And I'm pretty sure Glenn will be happy to take you there.




Glenn works for Polynesian Adventure. To book this and other trips, you can find them through Viator (www.viator.com) and on their own website at http://www.polyad.com/haleakala_sunrise_tour.html

PLEASE don't make me FLY!!!

We need to have a discussion, you and I. Quietly and one on one.

I have a secret. You cannot tell anyone, but you deserve to know. I love to travel, as you know. I love the visit to another place, the experiences, the fun, the local people, sights and cuisine.

But I hate getting there. 

 Let me be more specific: If it involves flight, I bite my lip, drag the luggage wherever they point me, stand, stand, stand in long queues, and generally dislike the entire experience of the modern day air travel.

There are exceptions, of course, but anything that remotely resembles long walks, followed by long, hot waits in line at ticket counters or -- far worse -- Security Check Points, I am not a fan.

In my years, I've had the misfortune to find myself in such pleasure centers as Dallas/Fort Worth, Atlanta, Chicago, and -- worst of the worst -- the appropriately titled Miami International Airport...aka MIA.

It's just a slog.

For obvious reasons, I have to carry on a lot. Within guidelines. Please don't assume I'm one of those annoying folks who argue that a three foot by five foot cargo locker is, indeed, a carryon. We know it's not. They know it's not. They've just done the mental mathematics that their convenience of not having to wait in baggage claim outweighs anyone else's need for a comfortable flight. They usually try to stuff these oversized couches into the overhead bin, which, of course, involves a good deal of pounding, sliding and loud din as the flight attendants practically beg the passenger to let them check the bag.

No, what I carry on is right-sized, but heavy. It's too small for even the small wheeled bags, which means I get to carry it the four and a half miles between the ticket counter, through customs...er, Security...and down the longest, hottest and most congested corridors in the known universe. And that doesn't include the ballet dance of holding one bag -- my cameras -- in front of me and the other bag -- my computer -- behind me as I twist my way down the narrow aisle in the center of the aircraft.

Ugh.

To be fair, there are exceptions...more because they are NOT the usual oversized shopping mall with gates, or Greyhound of the skies instead of being truly superlative. Some airlines, some airports ARE good, but it's sad this makes them so notable an exception.

We were bored, one night circa 1981, in the dorms at college. Not an easy thing to accomplish. So my friend Mike -- his real name -- suggested we go to LAX.

This was in the era before airports came to resemble shopping malls with a Customs department at the entrances. When family and loved ones met you at the gate instead of being relegated to standing at the luggage carousel amidst the families, friends and for-rent chauffeurs holding signs with some sort of referential calling for their fares.

It's no secret that airline travel has become a brutal test of endurance rather than the luxurious adventure in the air that we see in old movies and a few of us still retain in the dark recesses of our imaginations. Airliners of the 21st century have more in common with busses than they do with luxury. Even in first class -- which we flew cross country last August -- is little better than economy used to be.

The smaller the better

Once I would walk through the first class seats thinking "someday". Now it's more like "you poor naive saps" as I look down at the folks who are in seats that look uncommonly familiar -- maybe we sat upon them in economy a few years ago and they've been "repurposed" for first class? )I note and recognize that this is a domestic phenomenon. International Business Class and international flights in general seem to retain the old standards. This is why I can't attribute the decrease in quality as a figment of my imagination…we have examples of the former way of doing things right in front of us. Literally, in the case of first class!)

I've become seriously disenchanted with air travel, and now view it as solely a method to get to points too far to drive. But that definition is extending. Later this year we're driving to San Francisco rather than fly -- and just this last week I was seriously considering driving to Phoenix from Los Angeles rather than fly there for a business trip. And that doesn't speak well of the airline industry

There are exceptions, no doubt, as I said above. I love Long Beach Airport. There's still a sense of fun and adventure as you pull up to the art deco terminal. There's a sense of history, and it's an intimate enough terminal to lose the shopping mall appeal of most major airports. There's a significant renovation going on, which makes the walk out to the aircraft a bit of a trek…but then I reminded myself that the walk from the gate to the plane in this instance is less than the walk from most airport ticket counters to the gate. The airport promises to be a beautiful one when the work is complete. There is a strong effort to retain the appeal of a smaller more efficient terminal, avoiding the cold impersonality of LAX or even John Wayne Airport just down in Orange County.

Buckle up....

The decline of air travel is a three-fold affair: airports, airlines, and the TSA. I've already discussed the first two, but it's the latter which has, in many cases, put such a damper on travel.

Make no mistake: we now go through Customs each and every time we head to the gate. We are searched, our documents are checked, and we (usually) stand in long lines waiting to be allowed into the Inner Sanctum. It's the exact same process as Customs in an international flight, only with differing interest in what you might have packed away. As much as is possible, I recognize that the TSA officials at the airports do their best to be efficient and friendly…but it's still a major inconvenience to each and every traveler. Some airports/TSA teams do it better than others. Best in my experience: Washington Dulles, Long Beach and Denver. Worst: JFK, Atlanta, Dallas and the aforementionedMiami International Airport (aka "MIA").

The sad thing is, there's little if nothing any of us can do about it other than patronize those airlines and airports who "get it". But, unlike the LA metropolitan area which has five large airports, most cities have but one. Phoenix, San Diego, Philadelphia and most other destinations have the one field and that's it.

So much the pity.

Destination ahead...way, way ahead.

Things that go "Boom"

I have been fascinated by volcanoes since I was a small boy living with my family in Japan. From the back yard of our home we could see Mount Fujiyama in the distance. It was then I learned about volcanoes and their propensity to go boom.


Despite the fact I could not have been much older than four or perhaps five, I somehow remember a day trip down the coast to a lighthouse. Recently my older sister sent me some scanned shots from the trip, juicing the images and reminding me of the island sitting offshore. There isn't a picture of it, so I must assume it's a valid recollection.

The Kilauea caldera, Hawaii

The island, roughly conical in a shape similar to a flattened Mount Fuji, rising to a low, pointed summit where smoke was billowing forth. I do recall my father's explanation -- though now I assume it was tailored to a four year old perspective -- and had a brief rush of fear that mountain would explode. The kind of fear that is mixed with a rush of excitement wishing, perhaps deep inside, that it would happen and I would be there to see it.

Mount Etna, Sicily

This fascination has continued through to adulthood. I have been fortunate enough to visit several of the world's volcanoes -- some extinct, some dormant (Mount Saint Helens, Mount Vesuvius and Mount Haleakala) and others very much awake (Kilaeua, Etna and Stromboli).


But all of them fascinate me and excite me. It's the sense that we're very much just passengers on this planet, and -- should she want -- mother nature is very capable of reminding us who is boss.

Mount Etna's smoldering summit

Kilaeua. A large SUV can be seen as a dot on the highway behind

Standing on the lava flow, meters from the edge of the summit.

Utter destruction near St Helens

Mount Saint Helens

Perhaps the most famous volcano in the world, Mount Vesuvius towers over Naples

Vuesivius in the afternoon sun

Vesuvio Dawn

Cindercone in the Mojave Desert, California

The lava fields in the Mojave