Traveling Solo

  Nobody travels alone in this world.  Although there are times when we may pack a single bag, get on an airplane by ourselves and not know another soul when we arrive at our destination, we have not traveled alone.  Dinner may be at a table for one, only one room key may be required at our accommodations, and admission to an intriguing attraction may be a single, yet we are still not alone in our experiences.

   While traveling and writing about travel have become much of my life, for all of us, traveling is a poetic and befitting metaphor for life.  And just like the journey through life that is influenced so greatly by our families, our teachers, our friends and co-workers, my writing and my travels are also enriched by others.

    Today, my thoughts are of Shifra Stein, a friend and pioneer in travel journalism,

Shifra Stein (1940-2008)

whose journey in this world ended on Thursday, May 29.  Shifra was an entrepreneur, a creative spirit whose mind never rested, and an inquisitive soul who found intrigue and entertainment in any number of options the world presented to her.

    You can’t have lived in Kansas City for very long without having known the name Shifra Stein.  She was the Queen of Day Trips and an artist of many mediums.  So when I was seeking advice and sponsorship for membership in the Midwest Travel Writers Association, and later in the Society of American Travel Writers, I called and introduced myself.

   From that first lunch we had at the River Market Brewing Company more than ten years ago, Shifra and I became friends, business associates, and travel partners.  Two of the books that now carry my byline and generate income for the Meyer household were first written by Shifra Stein. Many of my goals and dreams have been brought into focus through conversations with her and the roads she traveled in this life.

   Now Shifra is traveling on a different plane, but I don’t believe she is traveling alone.  A good part of those who knew and loved her is tucked away in her carry-on and in her checked luggage.  And the road left for us to travel without her is undeniably more bland, void of the scenic overlooks and roadside attractions that was Shifra’s presence in our lives.

   Her journey in this world has altered my journey, and even though there may not be as much laughter along the way now that she is gone, each time I pack a bag, board a plane or place my fingers on a keyboard, Shifra Stein will continue to be here, sharing the journey with me.

    God rest her soul.

I’ve Been to the Mountain Top!

  This post could simply be called an Update to A Very Real National Treasure, or National Treasure Part 2, and could come with the warning label “do not try this at home.”

   But basically, “I’ve Been to the Mountain Top!” expresses my enthusiasm for the destination as well as the facts of this post.

    If you were to scroll back to May 18, you would read that our hike took us to ”remote locations and higher elevations than most travelers to the Black Hills experience.”

   Yeah Baby!    We stood on top of George Washington’s head and looked down Thomas Jefferson’s nose while we surveyed the magnificent view experienced on a day to day basis by the daring workers who carved Mount Rushmore during the Great Depression.

     Let me back up and share with you the story in a linear, more comprehensible manner. 

   When Bruce and I registered for the Society of American Travel Writers conference in Rapid City back in February, we signed up for a story research tour called “Over and Under.”  The under explored one the many caves of the Black Hills.  Between you and me, after exploring caves in Missouri “THE Cave State,” I’ve decided I’m not a fan of dark, damp, enclosed spaces that could cave in on you.

   The over part of the tour was more to my liking.  It included a rare opportunity with National Park Service rangers to hike the top of the heads of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln.  In the past, the NPS has taken journalists to the top about once a year to talk about the eco-system, the maintenance of the famous monument, and more recently, about security to protect this national icon.

   On rare occasions, federal judges, U.S. Senators and other powerful big wigs who could influence the NPS budget could request a tour as well, but it is an experience that is certainly off limits to the general public.

    After we made the climb, the NPS rangers who accompanied us told us in very clear terms that, because of national security and because of obvious curiosity from the general public, that we journalists could not write about the experience.

    Since then, Gerald Baker, Superintendent of the Mount Rushmore National Memorial, clarified that we could write the story as long as we clearly state to all that climbing is NOT allowed except on very rare occasions and under the direct supervision of NPS employees.  Otherwise, you might be spending time in a federally-funded accommodation.

   In just a few words, let me tell you this….it ain’t what it looks like in the movies!

   First of all, I thought there was a road or something that would take us most of the way.   Nope, we climbed the whole way -  about 500 feet straight up in less than a half mile.  At one point, when our presence could be detected by those watching from the visitor’s center, we made a mad dash for cover, just about even with Abraham Lincoln’s chinny-chin-chin.

    And seriously, because of national security precautions, we are prevented from talking about many aspects of the climb and Bruce was severely restricted on what he could photograph.  However, we were joined by a mountain goat at the top who didn’t appear to be too impressed with our two-legged climbing skills. 

     But as we panted and tried to catch our breath, our breaths were simultaneously taken away at the grandeur of the vista, at the magnificence of the work, and the sheer national pride in living in a country created in part by the four men in whose hairline we trod.

   Now, my job is to find an editor who will take my words and Bruce’s photos and share them in another medium with readers from around the world.  Until then, I continue to catch my breath, nurse my bruises and revel in the knowledge that I have been to the mountain top.

   And if you would like to read another account of the hike, click here:http://www.blackhillstravelblog.com/travel-writers-photogs-get-an-eyefull/

A Very Real National Treasure

  I’ve never been a big fan of Nicholas Cage, but after my weekend hike in the Black Hills of South Dakota, I have new respect for the actor. 

  In National Treasure - Book of Secrets, just released on DVD, he jaunts across the top of Mount Rushmore with less effort than I exert walking around the block.

   Now I don’t know how old Cage is - I could google it but I really don’t care - but in a few weeks, I’m going to have a significant birthday that ends in a big zero.

   And, I don’t know what the elevation is in Hollywood - I could google that too - but where we were in the Black Hills was about 5700 feet.  That’s about 5,000 feet higher than Kansas City’s 700 feet above sea level.

   And, I really don’t care how often Nicholas Cage works out, but I swipe the card at our fitness center a couple of times a week.  Yet, I was huffing and puffing on our hike at a very audible level.

   But I wasn’t alone in the heavy breathing department.  Bruce and I were in Rapid City for a conference of the Central States chapter of the Society of American Travel Writers, along with about 100 of our colleagues in the travel media business.

    Our hike, led by National Park Service rangers, took about 25 of us to remote locations and higher elevations than most travelers to the Black Hills experience.  But it was worth the huffing and puffing, along with a few scrapes and bruises accumulated by us all, to reach the heights of this range of mountains so sacred to the Native Americans. 

   The Black Hills of South Dakota are among our favorite destinations in the United States, and we’ve written about our journeys here in the past.  But now, we have new experiences and new reasons to share with readers about this beautiful area, where buffalo still roam, where beauty is literally around every turn, and where there is little humidity and fewer mosquitoes in the summer.

   So over the next few weeks, our colleagues and I will be sending story proposals to editors, posting on blogs and websites, and otherwise sharing with the world about our appreciation of the natural beauty here.  I’ll keep you updated on where my stories land, but in the coming months if you see anything in print about the Black Hills, it’s probably from one of our friends here.

   And if you’re looking for ideas for a memorable vacation this summer, don’t worry about being as fit as Nicholas Cage.  Come to the Black Hills and enjoy a very real national treasure.

 

A Writer’s Fool

 

  Although it is not documented in any history books or at the fabulous library in his honor in Springfield, Illinois, I believe that Abraham Lincoln must have been a freelance travel writer.

   The basis of my historical observation comes from a famous Lincoln quotation:  “You may fool all of the people some of the time; you can even fool some of the people all of the time; but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.”

    This is on my mind as my first story appears in the May/June issue of Arrive, the Amtrak Magazine.  The Detours column of this publication, which is read by business travelers in the northeast United States, highlights things to do when business travelers are not doing business.  

   However, it has been said that 90 percent of our nation’s business takes place on the golf course.  I don’t know about that since I don’t golf, but fortunately for me, the editor at Arrive magazine is one person who does at least a percentage of his time in a typical conference setting.  That’s where I met this editor, at a writer’s conference, and that’s how I ended up with my by-line under the headline Matter of Course, which highlights six unique golf courses in the northeast.

    One might wonder then, how a writer from the Midwest who doesn’t play golf handled such an assignment.

    In my case, our good friend Scott Parish helped me out.  Scotty once produced a television show about golf and, in so doing, traveled to some of the best courses in the world.  He knows all of the lingo, the jokes and the history that is needed to make a story sound rich and authentic.  Scotty and I brainstormed about the courses to include.  He explained the terminology and proof-read my story.

     So a good travel writer needs to know a little about a lot, or have connections to the people who know a lot about a specific topic. More so, a good travel writer can’t be afraid to ask questions, lots and lots of questions, and can’t be afraid of any destination or assignment.

   Click on this link, Arrive, and see if the words Scotty and I put together were enough to fool at least Abraham Lincoln and you, at least this one time.

    That’s the story behind this story.

   

A Ben & Jerry’s Kind of Day

   Some days, the work of a writer has nothing to do with writing at all.  It’s about marketing and accounting and filing and organization or learning new technologies, among other disciplines. 

   Some of those days I don’t mind at all.  It gives my brain a bit of a break from searching in its wrinkled and remote crannies for the best word, the unexpected phrase or the most accurate anecdote.  It’s kind of like eating chocolate cake for dessert every day.  I could live a lifetime on chocolate cake, ooh, or blackberry cobbler like my Grandmother used to make.

    But if you had chocolate cake or blackberry cobbler every day, no matter how much you love it, just occasionally it would be nice to throw in some Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream with hot fudge and caramel sauce.

   Don’t misunderstand me.  It’s not like a day spent doing bookwork and preparing for taxes is like a day spent rolling around in a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.  That’s not the point I’m making at all.

   My point is this:  I’ve got a little radio gig going for the next few weeks that promotes one of my writing projects.  KMBZ Radio (980am) in Kansas City has asked me to do a little five minute bit each Thursday  (7:40 a.m.) for much of the summer about quick getaways from Kansas City that won’t break the bank in paying for gasoline.

   It’s based on my work with Shifra Stein and the book she originated almost 30 years ago called “Day Trips from Kansas City.”  That’s when gasoline prices had sky-rocketed to an unbelievable 80-cents a gallon.

   It’s a lot of fun, remembering how to communicate verbally rather than via strokes on a keyboard.  The toughest part so far has been actually setting my alarm clock, something that causes many freelancers an allergic reaction.

    But otherwise, I sit around in my bathrobe with no make-up and the cat on my lap, and talk about the destinations that I otherwise just write about.  And try to decide what I should have for dessert:  chocolate cake, blackberry cobbler or Ben & Jerry’s.

    Like I said – some of these non-writing days, I don’t mind at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heaven for Bare Feet

 

   Sometimes when working to find interesting and off the beaten path travel stories, the suggestions presented to us for research causes one to stop and scratch our heads.  My friends Jackie, Lisa and I encountered one of those head-scratching moments last spring when traveling through southern Indiana.  The itinerary included a stop at The Sock Factory.

   If you’re one of those geeky types who like to see how things work, you’ll be in heaven at the For Bare Feet Factory in Helmsburg, Indiana. Hundreds of different kinds of machines doing hundreds of different things all at the same time.

    If you’re one of those sports fanatics who has everything you own, including under garments, etched with colors and imagery of your sports team, you’ll also be in heaven here.

   Or if you’re one of those people who loves a good heart-wrenching story about the love of a parent for her son, the strength of a family and the success of David over Goliath, you’ll never question the presence of heaven again.

   Hopefully, that’s what the editor at American Profile was thinking when he assigned me the story “Knitting Novelty Socks” that appears in the  April 28-May 3 issue of the newspaper insert.

And that’s the story behind this story.

Not Retiring Yet

   It’s funny how stories and experiences run together to help a writer do his/her work.  Living just a few hours north of Branson, Missouri, I’m frequently contacted to do stories about what’s new and exciting in the music and entertainment phenomenon of the Missouri Ozarks.  In a few weeks, I’ll be heading to Branson on assignment for both the Kansas City Star and the Dallas Morning News.

   Last year, it was SkyWest magazine that wanted a story about the 100^th anniversary of the release of The Shepherd of the Hills, the Harold Bell Wright novel that painted such an intriguing picture of the Ozarks that travelers from around the world came to southwest Missouri to experience it for themselves.

   However, when Where to Retire magazine contacted me, they didn’t want a story from Branson, but instead Springfield, Missouri.  About 40 miles north of Branson, Springfield is considered the gateway to the Ozarks and is greatly influenced by the traffic that passes through the city en route to Branson.

   I, too, had been guilty of not giving Springfield enough attention in my travels, so I thoroughly enjoyed a couple of rather cold, but fun-filled days there last January.  When I sat down to write my story about why Springfield is so popular among retirees, I kept thinking about Dad Howitt, the lead character in The Shepherd of the Hills.  Dad Howitt was probably the first person to come to the southern Ozarks for rest, relaxation and rejuvenation in the latter half of his life.

    So that became the lead to my story.  To read the entire story, pick up a copy of the May issue of Where to Retire, or buy a copy on-line at www.wheretoretire.com.  And when you’re finished reading my story, read the one entitled Nirvana in the Northeast by Mary Bergin.  She’s a fellow writer and good friend from Madison, Wisconsin.

   But neither Mary nor I are retiring any time soon.  There are too many great stories yet to write.

Lights, Camera, Action.

  Good travel writing conveys a sense of place, the qualities of a unique destination told through otherwise mundane experiences.

   These fundamentals bounced through my head as my laptop and I sat on the lanai of my beachfront condo on O’ahu’s North Shore, attempting to craft a story.  The palm trees swayed in the warm breeze under perfect blue skies, the expanse of the Pacific Ocean, blah, blah, blah.  I was in paradise.

   Another rule of good travel writing – avoid clichés.

   Fortunately, at least on this particular occasion, not all of the stories I generate during my travels are for travel specific publications.  There’s a small publication group right here in Parkville that does a number of specialized trade publications, including one for restaurant owners and managers. The name is simply Restaurant Start-Up & Growth, and the magazine is often found under the business heading at the magazine section of many bookstores.

    It’s for them I have the opportunity to visit some unusual restaurants during my travels, but instead of highlighting the restaurant as a great stop for travelers, I write about unique construction, management practices and the like.

   Which is why, when I was in Hawaii at the Turtle Bay Resort, I visited with Chef Fred d’Angelo at Ola.  Lots of things made the restaurant a good story, but that production was underway for the movie “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” and a big scene had just been shot at Ola, made the story even more interesting.

   Turtle Bay Resort and Ola are used to such celebrity.  The grounds here are also used as a backdrop for the ABC show “Lost” and Ola hosted the second season DVD release party.

   So go see “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” but pay particular attention to the restaurant scenes and know that it was the subject of my writing.  But also pay attention to all of the movie shot at Turtle Bay Resort.   It’s a fabulous destination, one that you may want to visit on your own.  Check it out at www.turtlebayresort.com.

  But when you send postcards home, try to avoid the clichés.  It’s the sign of a good travel writer.

I love the Brits

 

    I love the Brits.

  Until my recent visit to the UK, my favorite nationality had been Canadians, due in large part to their inherent sense of humor and universal healthcare.

   It had been some years since I had traveled to Great Britain, and I had forgotten their prominent joie de vivre and their overall congenial manner.  They are simply a cheery people who enjoy nothing more than a good debate over any number of subjects ranging from sports and politics to the quality of a local ale or the appropriateness of a Royal mistress.

   Of course, I had the pleasure of being in the UK when the Brits beat the French in the quarter finals of the Rugby World Cup. Surely, the Duke of Wellington’s defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo now pales in the annals of history to this battle on a pitch in Paris. Nowhere, not even in Boston after the Red Sox broke their 100-year curse to win the 2004 World Series, has pride in a sports team been more fanatical and universal among a citizenry.  Wisconsin cheeseheads should bow their cheddar in deference.

   But no matter how passionate the Brits are with an issue and how varied the opinions of those involved, the exchange remains polite and pleasant, rarely engaging in personal attacks.  The worst I ever heard a Brit call an individual with whom they had taken issue was “a bit of a chump,” and so said with an almost apologetic tone in that pleasant manner of theirs.  My colleague heard a referee called a “wanker” but since we were uncertain exactly what that meant and it was shouted so pleasantly, we assumed the best.

   On the other hand, I knew I was back in the USA when, after passing through customs at O’Hare, I began hearing the F-bomb dropped with startling frequency and a rather sour agent at a besieged airline service counter being addressed in terms that my mother would not approve of.

   I was jostled and shoved and ignored.  No one called me luv.  No one was concerned that I was properly tucked in.  No one offered me tea.  The smell of greasy fast food filled the passenger waiting area where everyone talked too loudly on their cell phones about matters of little importance while CNN discussed the details of the latest congressional sex scandal.

   Oh, it was good to be home.  God Bless America, but if push comes to shove, God Save the Queen.  The Brits will be much more appreciative of the effort.

 

 

Where Others Live Our Dreams

   From almost the beginning of our relationship, Bruce and I have talked about living in a log home someday. Antiques and handcrafted objects are among our passions, which would look great in our dream home by a lake. So, as we work toward that goal, we’ve had the fabulous opportunity to write for Log Home Living.

  The magazine has a wonderful column called Great Places, and over the last couple of years, we’ve been able to highlight Ogden, Utah, Talkeetna, Alaska, and Missouri’s Lake of the Ozarks as among the Great Places to build and live in a log home.

What a combination of our passions! Although I have to admit, there are times I find myself incredibly depressed after being in a great place like Brown County Indiana, where there are more log homes per capita than any other county in the U.S.

Sometimes our dreams of building our log home seem so far away. But 25 years ago, when I sold my first freelance story, the dream of making a full-time living at this and traveling the world writing for newspapers and magazines seemed far away as well.

 So until we can invite you to celebrate an open house in our own log home, perhaps you’ll enjoy reading about some of the places where people do live happily in log homes. Find Log Home Living in most bookstores or on-line at www.loghomeliving.com.

 In the March issue, we featured Lynchburg, Tennessee.

April is Nebraska City, Nebraska.

And May is Brown County Indiana.

We hope you enjoy where our dreams take you.