Antelope Canyon

Cold wind and dust blew in my face as we sped along down the road from Page, AZ on the wintry February day. The sun was shining with all its might but wasn't enough to break through the breeze. We were on our way to see Antelope Canyon on a guided tour of the canyon. Me and my fellow travelers were all crammed into the back of an altered truck, designed with two long rows of padded seats in place of a traditional truck bed. A large windowed blue canvas canopy draped over a metal frame, designed to keep the wind from blowing on the passengers. The cover didn't do much to block the wind from coming in through the spaces along the floorboard nor with the large open back of the space.

The truck bounced off the paved road and onto a red dirt road. We were getting close. I was so excited to finally be seeing Antelope Canyon, this was a destination I'd had on my list for many years. Now here we were, bringing this goal to fruition. The truck pulled up behind another truck and we all climbed out of the truck. It was amazing to see, rows upon rows of trucks all packed as full as ours was, and all filled with people who wanted to explore Antelope Canyon. My heart dropped a little when I saw the number of tourists ready to explore the canyon. I thought I'd never get a decent picture without people in the way. Every picture I'd ever seen was of amazing rock formations and canyon walls with not one person in sight. I was never so happy to be wrong.

We stopped at the entrance of the canyon and our guide stopped everyone to once again brief us on the rules. Then she launched into the tour. The first room we entered was breathtaking. Massive walls towered above, a bright orangy-red ribbon of stone weaved along out of sight leading explorers further into the canyon. The tour guide stopped many times to point out sights and showed everyone how to angle their cameras to get the best shot. Despite the throngs of people, very few of my shots had anyone in them. The shots I wanted, those amazing views were all pointing up toward the sky.

We headed further into the canyon and slowly the light dimmed. It grew darker and darker as the canyon walls narrowed and we sank further away from the surface. The assurance that the red sandy ground would remain level kept wanderers fairly confident in the otherwise dim light. Near a darker area the guide stopped and snapped a photo with her phone then held it up for everyone to see. It was a heart, the formations of the curves of the walls had created a heart shape when looking up.

I was in awe to see the beauty that nature could create. We continue to wander through the canyon and the temps dropped, slowly as we neared the end the light returned. At the far end we all emerged into the bright sun. All were eager to warm up from the chilly temps inside the canyon. Clusters of tourists gathered together to bask in the sun and take more pictures and review what they had taken while inside the canyon. After a while we were gathered up by our tour guide and given instructions on returning back through the canyon. I paused for a moment before heading back in, I knew it would be a quick pass through with a goal to get back to the trucks without stopping or blocking those who were just making their way through. I took in the beauty of the space. Outside the canyon the rock walls sparkled in the sun. The smooth appearance deceiving to the eye, I knew that the rock would feel more like sandpaper, but the satin smooth appearance made me want to run my hands along the surface.

This was a beautiful experience, one long awaited, and one very much enjoyed. I would do this tour again in a heartbeat. Maybe the next time, take fewer pictures...or maybe at least go in warmer weather.

Pike Place Market

Pike Place Market, what a wonderful experience to have. There are so many things to see and places to explore. On that early Saturday morning of May, I found myself walking up the street toward Pike Place Market with no idea of what to expect. Would it be crowded already? Would they be throwing fish everywhere? What exactly would this place look like? As I walked up the street with my mom from our weekend apartment rental I felt anticipation of seeing this place I'd long wished to visit. 

The cool humidity of the morning was neither peaceful nor calm. Traffic whooshed overhead on the freeway, the road we were on, already filled with cars in a hurry to get to their destination. The noise and hurried atmosphere didn't sink in to affect me though, I was calm but excited, ready to explore Seattle. We had a full schedule ahead, time to explore Pike Place Market, followed by the Seattle Aquarium, a harbor cruise. To finish the day we had a dinner reservation over by the Space Needle. That morning though, the goal was to wander through the market and grab some breakfast until the aquarium opened.

When I'd planned the trip, I'd expected we would visit the market that first morning and then after the aquarium we would go back and visit anything we hadn't made it to in the morning. Little did I know just how many times we would go through the market. When people asked about my trip to Seattle they would ask if I saw Pike Place Market and I always reply "Yes, several times." We went for breakfast, and walked through the market to get to the place we wanted. Heading to the aquarium, back through the market, heading to lunch, through the market, heading home, through the market. This theme continued throughout the entire weekend trip. It was never intentional but just happened that way. 

Each trip through the market was unique and interesting. We passed through the market when the shops were at their peak of business. People packed in tightly all exploring the wares of the different fruit, vegetable, and fish vendors. The bakeries and restaurants all had enticing scents of food wafting out into the main walkway to draw in the passersby.  Another visit we saw the end of the day, vendors trying to grab the attention of the last few customers with a goal of selling off the last bit of fruit or some flowers that, while currently at the pinnacle of freshness, might not make it through another day. 

The best part of my trips through Pike Place Market had to be in the early morning,

just like that first visit. Vendors were still loading their displays. The fish mongers were shoveling ice onto their displays and piling on the fish. Fruit and vegetable vendors were pulling crates and artfully displaying their wares. The bakeries were already in full force, cranking out morning breakfast treats of croissants and muffins. It was awesome to see the Pike Place Fish Market already in full swing shouting out their chants and throwing the fish. This rowdy little place already drew a small crowd, even in the calm quiet of the early morning.

The best though, were the flowers. Long lines of flowers all piled in Home Depot buckets waiting to be made into bouquets. Walking along the rows of flowers in the early morning light while waiting for stores to open I felt like I was in the opening scenes for My Fair Lady. There were buckets of just about every flower I could think of. Bright pink roses, cheerful yellow and white daisies, elegant peonies, and rich purple irises all graced the shelves of the flower shop.

Visiting Pike Place Market was an experience not to miss. Try the fresh fruit, it is amazing! Get some fresh fish from a fish monger, they can pack it to ship and stay fresh. Hit the decadent chocolate shop or browse the racks of the corner magazine stand. Explore it all, you won't regret it.

Bison of Yellowstone

I sat in my car and waited. A line of cars sat waiting ahead of me and more cars sat in line behind me. Even though we were on our way through Yellowstone Park and had not yet reached any of the geothermic sights, no one was in a hurry to get moving. Why? Lots of Bison were in the way. Actually not just in the way but migrating up the road.

I watched in awe as they plodded up the road on both sides of the car. They were so close I could reach out and touch them, heck I could even smell them (which isn't exactly a pleasant order). They continued their way up the road, one massive bull was so close I thought for sure he was going to hit my rental car or the car of at least one person in the line. I nervously decided I had to take some pictures so rolled down the window and pointed my camera. I took several pictures and started a video when nerves got the best of me and rolled the window up again.  Of course though, the desire to take more pictures would eventually win out again and down went the window again.

We all waited for about ten minutes before the herd had finally moved on enough that the cars ahead of me began to move. One by one the way cleared and the final bison moved past my car. I took a moment and watched as they moved away. I'll never forget the sound of those hooves clopping on the asphalt of the road, nor will I forget their massive size, rough looking coats. Of course there is always the smell. I will never forget the smell of a nearby bison.

Killarney National Park-Muckross House

Muckross House, oh it is indeed a lovely place to visit. Beautiful gardens and wonderful views of Muckross Lake and all in the Killarney National Park. As we waited for our tour we wondered what interesting things we'd learn about the history of the area and this massive old house that (if a few turrets were added) it could've doubled for a small castle. To be honest though, we were engaged and interested in the tour, for about 30 minutes. After that the tour just seemed to drag on...for another hour. Unless you are a history buff, it was a bit too much time for me. We moved from room to room of the house learning about the renovations that ruined the family that owned the house when a queen had come to visit. Don't get me wrong, it was interesting but I think the tour might have been shortened a bit. Once we finished the tour, mom and I lit out of the house to visit the ground and take a horse drawn cart ride into the park. THAT was the highlight for me.

 We walked around to the horse drawn carts and found one available and off we went. The cart jerked a bit as we rolled down the lane. Clouds hung low overhead threatening rain and obscured the view of the mountains ahead. It was amazing, in my mind I had thought that most of Ireland was rolling green hills. The large mountains that loomed ahead were unexpected and beautiful. Our tour guide and driver explained that we were heading to Torc Waterfall which was the 2nd highest waterfall in all of Ireland. We weren't diappointed. As we travelled back into the forest the trees surrounded us, blocking the view of Muckross House and Muckross Lake where we'd just spent the last few minutes travelling along the shoreline. I was in awe at the forest. Being from Arizona, I had seen forests in the state but they are nothing like this one. Every shade of green you can possibly imagine resided in the plants, on the trees, on the ground, you name it, it had green. Parts of the forest that I normally associated as having brown or grey (like tree trunks or rocks) were green. It was amazing. Finally the driver stopped and let us out saying we could take a walk up a short trail to the Torc Waterfall. Off we went oohing and awing over the beauty that surrounded us. When we reached the fall we stopped and stared at the lovely view. I'll admit, the falls weren't as high as what I've seen in the states, but the beauty that surrounded the falls made the trek so worth it. If I were to go back to Killarney National Park, I'd definately visit the falls again. Perhaps though, I'll skip the tour of the house and instead see what other treasures wait in store in Killarney National Park.

Hiking Willow Lake

"The next one is over there." I pointed across the boulders having just spotted another white spot spray painted a little ways away. We had been hiking for about an hour, having started at the parking area near the dog park off of Willow Creek. I made my way across the boulder to the next white spot, mom is close on my heels. We both search for the next dot we need to guide us across the boulders around the back of the lake. As I near the dot I'd just spotted I finally spied the next spot. We slowly make our way around the back of the lake and behind the dam. 

The trek around the lake was beautiful with a mixture of flat sandy places and high rocks of the granite dells. We had paused at the dock near the start of the hike and at the little red bridge at the high points of the boulders. We trudged our way up the steps section of the trail and relished the cool air under the large trees. As we made our way across the trail that passed near Willow Creek Rd, we pushed hard to keep going. The sun had risen high by this point of the day and I was really starting to drag. As much as I wanted to break I made myself keep walking. I crossed the bridge and eyed the shade trees off in the distance. It was just a matter of time before we were back in the shade and closing in on the completion of the hike. 

In the home stretch, I just kept pushing forward knowing the end was in sight. As we crossed under the buzzing power lines my feet began to hurt but I was nearly done. This was the first time I'd hiked around Willow Lake and it was an amazing experience. In the years since this hike I've done pieces of the trail and love visiting certain parts of the trail and still tend to avoid other parts of the path. Eventually I would like to do the entire lake hike and will do it again. For now, I carry a fond memory of this trek around Willow Lake.

Tahoe

Snow fell steadily as I drove up the mountains and into South Lake Tahoe. It was midday Thanksgiving day and the roads were busy but traffic moved quickly. Knowing I had a few hours to kill before I could check into my hotel, I decided to explore the town a little. I navigated the icy streets of Tahoe until I found a small side road that led right up to the lake. Pulling into a little lot I climbed out of my car grabbing my heavy down jacket. Having just driven up from Sacramento, I was woefully unprepared though for the cold that slammed into my body. It wasn't long before I was digging through my suitcase for my heavy socks, boots, gloves, scarf, etc. People walking by laughed at me as I sat on the backseat tugging on socks and heavy boots. One of the shoes and both socks I'd just taken off flew out of my hands and landed in the snowbank next to my car as I fumbled to change. By the time I'd finished I was warm from the effort of pulling on my shoes while wearing my coat, had, and scarf. I pulled on my gloves, fished the lost shoe and socks out of the snowbank and shoved them into my bags and slammed the trunk shut. Finally done changing, I felt a little warmer and was confident I could happily wander the lakeside for a good amount of time before the cold got to me.

I made my way down to the footpath just a short distance from the lot I'd parked in and stared out at the lake. It was beautiful. I snapped some photos and enjoyed the view and then the cold started to seep in. Despite the layers and good boots I'd donned, the cold was still sneaking in. I walked a little further and started to feel the cold. I wanted more pictures and still had a couple hours to go before I could check into my hotel. A little further down the path I went before my nose revolted and became a leaking sieve. I blew my nose but didn't want to stop. My fingers joined the rebellion and I started missing the button to take pictures on my camera and instead kept turning the camera off (honestly why do they put those two buttons so close to each other?). Finally, my whole body rebelled and I started to shiver. Determination lost its hold on me, I sighed and lowered my camera. I gave the lake one more longing glance then turned back to see my car was still in sight. I really hadn't gone that far after all. "Screw it." I muttered. "I'm going to Starbucks for a peppermint mocha."

Single Malted, a bit of Irish

"Here in these glasses you can enjoy a bit of scotch, single malt. Maybe a bit of Irish." The tour guide waxed poetic as he held up the crystal tumbler during the tour of the Waterford factory. During the entire 45 minutes we'd spent touring the factory so far, this was the only time he showed any type of emotion. His eyes held a special gleam and he held up the glass to his colleague who was marking the glasses to be etched and prepared for sale.

Today we were in Waterford, Ireland, taking a tour of the Waterford factory. This visit had been a bucket list item of mine to complete and I was so happy to have finally arrived to accomplish this goal. We'd spent time touring the storeroom while waiting for our tour to begin and I was getting tired of waiting by the time the tour began.  The tour began with a short video promoting the wonders of the product, slightly cheesy and quick irritating and loud. After the video the group was herded into the next space filled with a series of wood molds and crystal that had come from those molds. Our tour-guide then introduced himself, he was an older man with a flat voice either formed by years of dealing with overexcited gawking tourists day after day, or just boredom of covering the same material over and over again. I admit, the information wasn't terribly exciting, I can see why one might lose interest over time.

The level of boredom this man exhibited was something else. I felt like I was a student of Ben Stein in "The Wonder Years" as he droned on to a class about the history of Waterford and the steps to make crystal. Once we made our way past the molds and into the space where workers demonstrated the glass blowing process, making the same piece over and over things became slightly more interesting. I watched as the workers interacted with each other but they ignored the tour group and the tour guide as they worked. Eventually we made our way past quality inspection, the sanding section and rounded a corner to where the other man was marking whiskey tumblers.

This is when our very own tour guide began to show emotion. He picked up a marked tumbler and held it up. He described what the other man was doing and the other guy jumped in. "A great glass to enjoy a nice little something to drink."

Our tour guide finally lost the bored expression and his voice began to hold emotion. A wistful smile curved his mouth as he thought about the possibility of what those glasses could hold. "Ah yes, tonight you could have one of these glasses and enjoy a bit of scotch, or a bit of Irish, single malt. Yes, single malt."

This reaction was by far, the highlight of the tour. I will never forget that moment and the words, "A bit of Scotch, single malt." and how happily they were expressed.