Day 4…On the road…Made an early stop for the night in Tea, South Dakota, since Tom is so sick…Bison!!!…

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There were four bison that we could see.

We spent the night at a Quality Inn in Rapid City, South Dakota, a first for us and, unfortunately, not one we are likely to repeat. It is always a bit of a gamble when you pull off the road after a long day and try somewhere new, hoping for that small sense of comfort that comes with a decent room and a reliable connection to the outside world. In this case, the room itself met the basic expectations. It was clean, which always matters most, and the bed was comfortable enough to invite a good night’s sleep after hours on the road.

But the WiFi, or lack of it, quickly became the underlying theme of the evening. It is funny how something so seemingly minor has become such an essential part of our daily routine. Posting, staying connected, even just looking up the next stretch of the journey, all depend on it. When we realized it was not working, I resorted to using my phone as a hotspot to upload yesterday’s post. It worked, but slowly, and with a level of patience that felt hard to summon after a full day of travel.

The real frustration came when we tried to resolve it. The hotel had advertised free WiFi, yet there we were, disconnected and improvising. When we mentioned the issue at the front desk, they handed us a phone number for their provider, as though we were expected to sort it out ourselves. We called, hopeful that it might be a quick fix, only to be told they had no record of that hotel at all. It felt like we had stepped into a strange little loop where no one quite knew what was going on. After spending far too much time chasing a solution, we gave up and settled back into our makeshift hotspot connection, shaking our heads at the absurdity.

We were excited to see some bison, although it would have been more exciting to see them in the wild than on a farm.

Thankfully, the evening improved once we left the hotel for dinner. We went to the Colonial Inn Restaurant, and from the moment we sat down, everything shifted. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, the kind that invites you to relax without even realizing it. I ordered a shell-free taco salad that turned out to be one of the best I can remember. It was fresh, flavorful, and exactly what I did not know I had been craving. Tom chose a burger along with chicken and wild rice soup, a comforting combination that seemed to suit him perfectly.

What stood out most, though, was the service. It was impeccable in a way that feels increasingly rare. Attentive without being intrusive, friendly without feeling forced. We left feeling genuinely cared for and made sure to reward our server accordingly. It is those small human interactions that linger long after the meal is over.

Back at the hotel, we settled in to watch the NHL playoffs, focusing on the Vegas Golden Knights. I have followed them for years now, ever since our son Richard, who lives in Nevada, first got me interested. There is something comforting about that connection, watching a game hundreds of miles away and feeling just a little closer to him in the process. For a while, we forgot about the WiFi and the earlier frustrations and simply enjoyed the game.

The night itself was uneven. We slept, but not deeply, and we both woke at different times, coughing uncontrollably. It is an unpleasant reminder that this lingering virus is not quite done with us yet. Tom, in particular, does not feel as well today as he did yesterday. There is a heaviness to it, the kind that makes even simple things feel like an effort. Still, we are hanging in there, doing what needs to be done.

The terrain in this part of South Dakota is uninteresting.

We were back on the road by 9:00 in the morning, determined to keep moving forward. There is something about travel that encourages that mindset. You adjust, you adapt, and you continue.

Halfway into the day, somewhere along the long stretch of highway that seems to define this part of the country, Tom suggested we stop for the night. There was no drama in his voice, no sense of defeat, just an acknowledgment that his body had reached its limit. We had been aiming for Eden Prairie, Minnesota, still holding onto the idea that we might make it in one long push, but neither of us had booked a hotel. We had left it open, as we often do, trusting the day to tell us what it needed.

The logistics made it easier to say yes. Our rental car isn’t due back until Sunday, when we’ll pick up another in Minneapolis at a better rate. We’ve learned over time that dropping a car off at a different location comes at a cost, and swapping vehicles mid-journey has become one of those small, practical decisions that shape how we travel. It made sense to stretch this drive into one more day.

We found a hotel in the little town of Tea, South Dakota, a place we might never have noticed if not for this moment. After checking in, it became clear just how unwell Tom was feeling. There’s a look that comes over him when he’s sick, a kind of deep exhaustion that no amount of determination can mask. As soon as we carried in our few bags and plugged in our equipment and chargers, which now feel as essential as anything else we travel with, he slipped under the covers and fell into a much-needed sleep.

It is mostly farmland.

Next door, there’s a restaurant where we may have dinner tonight. It feels comforting to know it’s there, simple and close. If he’s up to it, we’ll go together. If not, I’ll walk over and bring something back. For now, I’m sitting in the lobby, hoping rest will do what it can, and that tomorrow will feel just a little bit easier for him.

It is a strange balance, this life on the road. There are moments of frustration, unexpected detours, and nights that do not go as planned. But there are also small joys, a good meal, a shared conversation in the comfort of moving forward together. And for now, that is enough.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 15, 2016:

Even this gate in Bali caught our eye as we peered through it to see the exquisite grounds of this temple. For more photos, please click here.

Day 3…On the road…Made it to Rapid City, South Dakota…Update on Tom…

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Bad WiFi in the hotel. Can’t load more photos today. Scene in Wyoming.

When we arrived at the hotel in Evanston, Wyoming, last night, there was no question how the evening would unfold. Tom went straight to the bed fully dressed, pulled back the heavy white covers, and slid underneath as if he had been waiting all day for that exact moment. Within seconds, he was curled up, shoulders hunched, shivering in a way that made me instantly uneasy. The room was warm enough, but this virus ran deeper than the thermostat could touch.

He said he was freezing. Not the casual kind of cold that comes from stepping out into mountain air, but the kind that settles into your bones and refuses to leave. I stood there for a moment, watching him, wishing I could somehow trade places or at least absorb a bit of it for him. It had been nearly two weeks since I had been sick myself, and now here it was, making its way through him with what felt like even more intensity.

Neither of us had eaten in 24 hours, which only added to the sense that we were running on fumes. I gently suggested that he try not to fall asleep just yet, worried that if he did, the night would become a patchwork of restless waking. He nodded, but exhaustion has a way of overriding even the best intentions. Within minutes, his breathing softened, and he drifted off despite himself.

Forty-five minutes later, I leaned over and woke him as gently as I could. It felt almost wrong to interrupt the little bit of rest he had found, but we both needed something in our stomachs. He opened his eyes slowly, disoriented for a moment, before remembering where we were and why.

We made our way down to the on-site restaurant. The dining room had that old-fashioned supper club feel, softly lit, a little worn in the best possible way, with booths that invited you to settle in and stay awhile. Under different circumstances, I might have found it charming in a more joyful sense. Last night, it felt more like a place to regroup.

We slid into a comfy booth and didn’t say much at first. There is a certain kind of silence that comes when both people are simply trying to get through the moment, and this was one of them.

Tom ordered a cup of chicken soup. When it arrived, he held the spoon carefully, as if even that small effort required concentration. He managed to finish the entire cup, along with a couple of small slices from the loaf of bread brought to the table. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and I was grateful for that.

I ordered a grilled chicken breast and made my way to the salad bar. I actually paused for a second when I saw it—a salad bar. I realized I hadn’t seen one since before the pandemic. There was something unexpectedly comforting about it, the simple normalcy of choosing a handful of toppings and building a plate. It felt like a small return to a world that had once been so ordinary.

We didn’t linger long. Less than an hour later, we were back in our room, and Tom went straight under the covers again, retreating into that cocoon of warmth he seemed to need so badly. He drifted in and out of sleep, the kind that never quite settles, until he finally took the nighttime cough medicine I had packed before we left.

Sometime in the night, I woke to the sound of him stirring. He reached for the medicine again, taking a second dose, then settled back down. I listened for a while, the rhythm of his breathing steadier than it had been earlier, and eventually fell back asleep myself.

By 7:45 this morning, he woke up and, to my immense relief, said he felt much better. Not perfect, but better. It was enough to lift the heaviness that had been sitting in my chest since the night before.

By 8:30, we had our few bags packed and loaded into the car, and we were back on the road once again. There is something about continuing forward, even when the journey feels uncertain, that brings its own kind of comfort.

We stopped to refill the car, another small task that somehow felt more significant than usual. In Vancouver, gas had been $5.50 a gallon, a number that had made us wince. Out here on the road, the highest we have paid so far is US $4.50, which felt like a victory, even if only a temporary one.

As I write this now, it is 11:00 in the morning, and we still have another six hours before we reach our stop for the night in Rapid City, South Dakota. Tom’s sister Rita lives there, and under normal circumstances, we would absolutely stop to see her and her husband. But with their recent health concerns, there is no question that we can’t risk exposing them to whatever this is. It is one of those difficult decisions that feels both obvious and disappointing at the same time.

Soon, I will start looking for a hotel close to the highway, along with a nearby restaurant where we can grab something simple and nourishing. For now, the road stretches out ahead of us, long and steady.

Driving through southern Wyoming has not been particularly scenic, at least not in the dramatic way we had hoped for. The landscape feels wide and barren, almost reserved, offering fewer reasons to pull over and take photos. And yet, there is still something about it. The openness. The sense of moving through a place that asks nothing of you except to keep going.

Today, that feels like enough.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 14, 2016:

Rambut Siwi Hindu Temple (Pura Rambut Siwi) in Negara, Bali, is the largest of the three traditional temples located in each Indonesian town. For more photos, please click here.

Day 2…On the road…Made it to Evanston, Wyoming…

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Interesting rock formations as we neared Wyoming.

We are on the road again today, leaving Boise, Idaho, behind us under a pale morning sky that seems to understand exactly how we are feeling. There is something about beginning a long drive when one of us is unwell that changes everything. The excitement softens, the sense of adventure dulls, and all that really matters is getting safely to the next stop.

Unfortunately, Tom is very sick. Somewhere along the way, he picked up the same virus I brought with me from the ship almost two weeks ago. It feels unfair, like a lingering souvenir neither of us wanted. He is exhausted, achy, and coughing in that deep, persistent way that makes it impossible to rest. I remember those first few days all too well, and watching him go through it now tugs at my heart.

I offered to drive, more than once, but he insists on staying behind the wheel. There is a certain determination in him, even when he feels awful, that I both admire and worry about. I keep a close eye on him, listening between the stretches of road for any change in his breathing or energy. We still have two long days ahead of us before we reach Minnesota, and it feels longer now than it did when we first mapped it out.

With that in mind, we made the decision, much to our mutual disappointment, to skip Yellowstone this time. We had talked about it with such anticipation, imagining the wide open landscapes, the wildlife, and the wonder of it all. But the reality of traffic, higher elevation, unpredictable weather, and longer driving hours doesn’t change how things are today. It was the right choice, even if I didn’t like it when we said it out loud.

Snow-capped mountains in Utah.

There is comfort, though, in knowing this isn’t an opportunity forever. Next year, after our four back-to-back Azamara cruises, we will make this same drive again from Vancouver to Minnesota. Yellowstone will wait for us. It will be there, unchanged in its grandeur, ready for a time when we can fully appreciate it.

Right now, our only goal is simple. Get to Minnesota by Friday afternoon. Nothing more, nothing less.

Last night, we stayed at a relatively nice Best Western hotel in Boise. It was one of those places that feels welcoming the moment you walk in, even if you know you’re assured. We had dinner at a local spot, Wildwood Grill, and for a little while, everything felt almost normal. A good meal, a quiet table, and the familiar comfort of sitting across from each other at the end of a day.

But the night was long.

Sleep didn’t come easily for either of us. The room was filled with the sound of coughing, mine lingering but manageable, his constant and harsh. There is something especially difficult about being sick away from your own bed, your own space. I could hear the frustration in his breathing, the restlessness of a body that just couldn’t.

Yesterday morning, he started taking Tamiflu. It’s on. It’s those things you hold onto with cautious hope. Is it working? Would he feel worse without it? There’s an answer, only the wish that it will shorten the duration and ease the symptoms, even just a little.

As we’ve done so far, we’ve been listening to the Garage Logic episodes we missed while we were on the cruise. It feels oddly comforting, like catching up with familiar voices. Every so often, as we move deeper into more remote stretches, the signal fades and disappears altogether. The silence that follows is noticeable, but not unwelcome. It gives us space just to be, to watch the road, and to sit with our thoughts.

The road ahead in Idaho.

Today’s is more southerly, less scenic by most standards, but right now, beauty isn’t missed in landscapes. It’s me. It’s steady miles, in manageable traffic, and getting closer to where we need to be. I will try to take a few photos along the way, small glimpses to share with our dear readers, even if they don’t capture sweeping vistas.

More than anything, we are looking forward to Tom feeling better. To the day when the coughing stops, when sleep comes easily again, and when this stretch of the journey becomes just another story we tell.

We just checked into a hotel in Evanston, Wyoming, and soon will go to dinner at the hotel’s popular restaurant.

For now, we keep going.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 13, 2016:

We did a double-take in Bali when we saw these two young guys walking their inner tube-type boats along the beach. Later, we saw them fishing from these tiny watercraft. For more photos, please click here.

We’re on the road..

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Our last dinner together with Rita and Gerhard at Wild Fin.
We are on the road at last, that familiar feeling settling in as the wheels begin to turn and the scenery slowly shifts from the known to the unknown. After four delightful days spent with our dear friends Rita and Gerhard, this morning came with a mix of gratitude and that tug that always accompanies a goodbye. They kindly drove us to the Enterprise location, though not without a bit of a challenge. What should have been a simple twenty-minute drive stretched into over an hour, thanks to the steady pulse of morning rush hour traffic. It felt like the road was reminding us that every journey begins in its own time.

Once we arrived, picked up our rental car, and loaded our bags, it was time to part ways. Hugs lingered just a little longer, smiles held a touch more meaning, and then, just like that, we were off. There is something about that first stretch of highway that always feels significant, as if the road itself is opening up to welcome us forward.

Our goal today is simple: reach Boise, Idaho, by dinner time. It feels both ambitious and entirely doable, the kind of goal that gives structure without pressure. We have yet to book a hotel for the night, something that might have once made us uneasy, but over time has become part of our rhythm. There is a certain freedom in waiting, in allowing the day to unfold before deciding where we will rest our heads. More often than not, those last-minute bookings turn out to be the best finds, both financially and unexpectedly charming.

As we began the drive through the beautiful Pacific Northwest.

About an hour into the drive, I will begin searching for a place to stay, ideally with a nearby restaurant where we can settle in after a long day and reflect on the miles behind us. Until then, we press on, committed to making only the necessary stops for fuel and a quick stretch. There is determination in that kind of travel, a shared understanding that the destination will be all the sweeter for the effort.

As the miles pass beneath us, I find myself reflecting on how much I love this part of the country. The Pacific Northwest has shown us its beauty in ways that feel almost generous. Towering evergreens, distant mountain ranges softened by mist, and rivers that wind alongside the road as if they, too, are traveling somewhere important. It is a landscape that invites you to slow down, even as you move forward.

What makes this journey even more meaningful is sharing it with Tom. He hasn’t traveled this route before, and there is a special kind of joy in watching someone you love experience something new, especially when it is a place you have come to appreciate so deeply. I find myself pointing out small details along the way, the changing colors of the hills, the way the light shifts as clouds drift overhead, and the subtle transitions that signal we are moving from one region to another.

And then, of course, there is what lies ahead. Yellowstone. Just thinking about it brings a sense of anticipation that is hard to put into words. The possibility of seeing bison roaming freely across vast open spaces, of watching while nature carries on uninterrupted, feels like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. The scenery there is said to be extraordinary, layered with textures and colors that shift with every turn.

Once again, the scenery was breathtaking.

If the Pacific Northwest has already left us in awe, it is hard to imagine what Yellowstone will bring. And yet, that is the beauty of travel. When you think you have seen something remarkable, the world gently reveals something even more breathtaking.

For now, we settle into the pace of the road. The hum of the tires, the occasional glance at the map on the rental car’s screen, and the quiet companionship that comes from sharing a journey like this. There is nowhere else we need to be, no rush beyond the one we set for ourselves. Just the open road, the promise of what lies ahead, and the simple joy of being right here, in the middle of it all.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 12, 2016:

This bird appears to be a Blue Kingfisher. For more photos, please click here.

Part 2…Sightseeing with friends in Vancouver, Washington and Oregon…Lovely Mother’s Day dinner at Rita and Gerhard’s home…

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Another beautiful waterfall along the Pacific Northwest.

When Gerhard and Rita picked us up yesterday afternoon, we had no idea that the drive itself would feel like a quiet step back in time. As we made our way through a historic area of Vancouver, they guided us through the grounds of the Vancouver Barracks, a place steeped in stories that date back to 1849. This was the first U.S. Army post in the Pacific Northwest, and even from the car, it carried a sense of dignity and permanence that is difficult to describe unless you have seen it for yourself.

Officers Row is a collection of 22 beautifully restored 19th-century Victorian homes in Vancouver, Washington, once used by U.S. Army officers at the Vancouver Barracks. Located on a 21-acre site within the Vancouver National Historic Reserve, this tree-lined promenade is a landmark for history enthusiasts and a popular spot for scenic walks.

The barracks are part of the larger Fort Vancouver National Historic Site, an area that has been lovingly preserved and restored over the years. We passed rows of stately 19th-century officers’ homes, their architecture reflecting a time when craftsmanship and detail were paramount. The wide porches, tall windows, and manicured lawns seemed to whisper stories of another era. Nearby, we caught a glimpse of the Pearson Air Museum, a reminder that this area is not only rooted in military history but also in the early days of aviation.

While most of the 21 houses are now private offices or residences, several are open to the public:The Grant House (1101 Officers Row): Built in 1850, it is the oldest house on the row. It is named after Ulysses S. Grant, who served as quartermaster at the fort but never actually lived in the house. The Marshall House (1301 Officers Row): A stunning 1886 Queen Anne Victorian that was home to General George C. Marshall. It currently offers walk-in tours and serves as a museum. The O.O. Howard House: Named for General Oliver Otis Howard, this house hosts events and is part of the historic district.

What struck me most was how beautifully everything had been renovated. There was no sense of neglect or fading history. Instead, the entire area felt alive, as if the past had been carefully carried forward into the present. It was easy to imagine life here between 1846 and 1906, when this region played such an important role in shaping the Pacific Northwest. Even for someone like me, who tends to connect more with people than with places, there was something deeply moving about seeing history preserved with such care.

St. James Catholic Church in downtown Vancouver.

Tom, of course, was completely captivated. As a devoted history buff, he soaked in every detail, pointing out architectural features and commenting on the significance of what we were seeing. Watching him light up like that always brings me joy. It is one of the many ways we experience the world differently yet together, each of us finding meaning in our own way while sharing the same moment.

Overlook in the Columbia River Gorge.

After this fascinating drive, we left the historic district and headed toward the neighborhood where Rita and Gerhard have made their home since the late 1980s. The transition from historic landmark to quiet residential streets felt seamless, as if the entire city carries a gentle respect for its past while embracing the present. Their neighborhood was charming and welcoming, with tree-lined streets and homes that reflected years of care and pride.

The tree-lined roads were stunning.

Stepping inside their home was like entering a beautifully curated collection of memories. Everywhere I looked, there were treasures from their extensive world travels. Each piece seemed to have a story, thoughtfully placed and tastefully arranged in a way that felt inviting rather than overwhelming. It reminded me so much of our own lifestyle, collecting experiences, though seeing it displayed in a permanent home added a different kind of warmth.

Bonneville Lock and Dam, located in the Columbia Gorge National Scenic Area 40 miles east of Portland, Oregon, and Vancouver, Washington, spans the Columbia and links the two states. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers operates and maintains Bonneville Lock and Dam for hydropower production, fish and wildlife protection, recreation and navigation. Since 1938, Bonneville Dam has supplied the region with inexpensive electrical power. Visitors can experience first-hand the operation of two hydroelectric powerhouses and watch migrating fish traveling upstream at the underwater viewing rooms next to the fish ladders.

One of the highlights of the evening was finally meeting their two adult children, Lisa and Marcus. There is something special about connecting with the family members of dear friends, as it deepens the relationship in a meaningful way. They were warm and engaging, and it did not take long for conversation to flow as easily as if we had known each other for years.

Vertical Turbine Pumps (Dewatering & Water Control): These are commonly used in locks and dams for pumping water to manage water levels or for dewatering dry docks for inspections. They consist of a vertical shaft, a motor on top, and an impeller that rotates inside a bowl to lift water.

Dinner itself was nothing short of wonderful. Rita had prepared a delicious spread that included filet mignon, grilled chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, sweet corn on the cob, sautéed vegetables, and a hearty salad of fresh greens. For me, it was perfect to be able to select the options that worked best for how I eat, something that has become second nature after all these years of travel and adapting. Tom, on the other hand, reveled in the mashed potatoes and corn, savoring every bite of what felt like a rare and comforting treat.

The Bridge of the Gods is a steel-truss cantilever bridge that spans the Columbia River between Cascade Locks, Oregon, and North Bonneville, Washington. It is approximately 40 miles (64 km) east of Portland, Oregon, and 4 miles (6.4 km) upriver from Bonneville Dam. It is a toll bridge operated by the Port of Cascade Locks.

As always, the conversation carried us through the evening with ease. We shared stories, laughter, and reflections from our travels and from life in general. There is a certain comfort that comes from being with people who understand the pace of connection, where nothing feels forced, and everything unfolds naturally.

The Columbia River reaches its greatest width near its mouth at the Pacific Ocean, where it spans approximately 6 to 14 miles wide near the Astoria-Megler Bridge. While the width varies, it stretches to these extreme breadths just before entering the ocean, having widened from an average width of 1.5 miles in its lower section.

By the time we returned to our hotel, we were ready for a good night’s sleep, the kind that comes after a full and meaningful day. This morning, as soon as I finish uploading today’s post, Rita will pick me up again, and we will head out for some girl time and coffee at her favorite local barista. I am looking forward to that quiet time together, just the two of us, sharing conversation in a different way.

At some point, passengers may have been killed in accidents along this scenic route.

Later today, we will begin packing for tomorrow’s departure as we set out on a four-day road trip across the northern United States toward Minnesota. I hope to continue posting along the way, laptop balanced on my lap, relying on our T-Mobile connection whenever the signal cooperates. With long travel days ahead, I prefer to write in the quiet of the morning rather than the evening. We are especially looking forward to capturing photos along the journey, particularly when we reach Yellowstone in a few days, depending on road conditions and how far we choose to drive each day.

More expansive views of the Columbia River Gorge.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 11, 2016:

Sunset in Bali. For more photos, please click here.

Part 1…Sightseeing with friends in Vancouver, Washington and Oregon…Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms in the world…

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Mount Hood, an active stratovolcano located about 50 miles east of Portland, is Oregon’s highest peak at 11,249 feet. It is a premier year-round destination for skiing, climbing, and hiking, featuring the historic Timberline Lodge and 11 glaciers. The surrounding 1.1-million-acre Mt. Hood National Forest offers extensive outdoor recreation, including popular spots like Trillium Lake.

Yesterday morning began with one of those unexpected moments that add a special layer to our travels, the kind we never could have planned. Janice, one of our longtime readers, joined me for coffee at the hotel restaurant after discovering we would be in Vancouver. There is something uniquely heartwarming about meeting someone who has followed along with our journey across continents, oceans, and countless temporary homes. Sitting together over steaming cups of coffee, we slipped easily into conversation as if we had known one another for years. She shared what she remembered from our stories, certain places we had written about, moments that had stayed with her. Hearing her perspective felt like looking at our own lives through a different lens, one filled with kindness and connection.

After that lovely start to the day, Gerhard and Rita arrived to pick us up, their familiar smiles setting the tone for what would become an unforgettable outing. Having lived in this area for 40 years, they carry a depth of knowledge that no guidebook could ever match. What followed was not just a sightseeing tour, but an intimate introduction to a place they clearly love. Fortunately, it was a perfectly beautiful sunny day!

The beautiful Columbia River.

Our first destination was the breathtaking Columbia River Gorge. No matter how many photos one may have seen, nothing prepares one for the scale and beauty of this natural wonder. The mighty Columbia River carves its way through towering cliffs that rise dramatically on either side, creating a scene that feels almost cinematic. The air itself seemed different there, fresh and alive, carrying the scent of water and evergreens. As we stood at various overlooks overlooking the vast expanse, I found myself quietly reflecting on how places like this remind us of how small we are in the grand scheme of things, yet how fortunate we are to witness such beauty.

From there, we made our way to the iconic Vista House, perched high above the gorge. This elegant structure, built in the early twentieth century, feels both historic and timeless. Its stone exterior and intricate details speak to an era when craftsmanship was an art form. Inside, the circular design and windows offer sweeping views in every direction. Standing there, gazing out over the river far below, it felt as though we had stepped into a postcard. The wind was brisk at that elevation, tugging gently at our clothing, as if reminding us of the powerful forces that shaped this landscape over thousands of years.

Vista House.

As we walked along the overlook, I couldn’t help but notice how the light danced across the water, reflecting the sky in soft shades of blue and gray. There was a sense of calm there, a reminder that not all beauty demands grandeur. Sometimes, it is found in the corners of nature, in the laughter of friends, or in the simple pleasure of being present.

Perhaps the highlight of the day was our drive along the stunning Mount Hood Scenic Byway. This route winds its way through forests, valleys, and open vistas, each turn revealing something new and captivating. Towering evergreens lined the road, their deep green hues contrasting beautifully with the sky above. As we continued, the majestic presence of Mount Hood gradually came into view, its snow-capped peak standing proudly against the horizon.

Distant view of Vista House.

There is something deeply stirring about seeing a mountain of such magnitude. It commands attention without asking for it, simply existing in its quiet strength. We stopped at several points along the way, stepping out to take photos and to take it all in. The air felt cooler there, carrying a crispness that hinted at the elevation. Each stop brought a slightly different perspective, as though the mountain was revealing itself in layers.

This morning, Gerhard thoughtfully sent me the ending scene from the film Wild, featuring the unforgettable Bridge of the Gods. As I watched, I felt an immediate connection to that powerful moment, knowing we had crossed that very bridge during our journey. Seeing it portrayed on screen gave the experience deeper meaning, as if our own travels had intersected with a story of perseverance and self-discovery. It reminded me how certain places carry emotion, memory, and meaning far beyond the moment we first encounter them.

Check out these rock walls!

Throughout the day, Gerhard and Rita shared bits of history, personal stories, and local insights that brought each location to life in a way that no sign or brochure ever could. Their familiarity with the area transformed what might have been a typical tour into something far more meaningful. It felt personal, thoughtful, and filled with genuine enthusiasm.

As the day came to an end and we made our way back, I found myself reflecting on how much we had seen in just a few hours. From the dramatic cliffs of the gorge and the awe-inspiring presence of Mount Hood, it was a day filled with contrasts and discoveries.

More stunning view of the Columbia River.

More than anything, it was a reminder that travel is not only about the places we visit but also about the people we share those experiences with. Yesterday, we were not just visitors passing through. We were guests, guided by dear friends who opened a window into their world, allowing us to see this remarkable region through their eyes.

We ended our day at a lively restaurant, settling in comfortably as conversation flowed with ease. Over a tasty meal, we found ourselves revisiting the day’s highlights, laughing over small moments, and marveling at the beauty we had witnessed. It felt natural to drift into memories of other places we have shared over the years, each story adding another layer to our friendship. There is something deeply comforting about these evenings, when time seems to slow just enough for reflection. Surrounded by dear friends, we celebrated not only the day but also the many extraordinary experiences we have enjoyed together around the world. More will follow in tomorrow’s post. Please check back.

We spotted several waterfalls along the drive.

Today at 3:00 pm, we are heading to Rita and Gerhard’s home for a special Mother’s Day dinner. It means a lot to be invited into their home here in Washington, to meet their two adult kids, and to share laughter, stories, and a home-cooked meal.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 10, 2016:

I was in the pool in Bali, waving at Tom when he insisted on a photo. We spend lots of time in the pool, especially on days like today, hot, humid, and with many flies after last night’s heavy rain. For more photos, please click here.

Day 25…Transpacific Cruise…Disembarkation day!…We’re off to Vancouver, Washington…

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We spent most evenings in the ship with these two couples from left to right; Nancy, Cynthia, Charlie and Ted. We haf lots of fun!

We are currently nestled into the welcoming comfort of Hotel Indigo Vancouver Downtown, a lovely spot that already feels like a temporary home in this charming corner of the Pacific Northwest. But rather than rushing ahead, I find myself wanting to pause and reflect on yesterday…a day that marked the end of one journey and the l beginning of another.

After twenty-five days at sea, the familiar walls of our cabin suddenly felt different when we woke. Perhaps it was the anticipation of disembarking, or perhaps it was simply the reality that my best efforts to stay healthy had slipped quietly through my fingers. The night had been restless. I tossed and turned, coughing endlessly and sneezing in a way that made sleep feel like a distant memory. So much for all that careful handwashing and sanitation procedures. Sometimes, despite our best intentions, life has its own plans.

Still, there was no lingering. Departure day waits for no one.

We gathered our belongings, took one last look around the cabin that had been our little sanctuary, and made our way down to the Promenade Cafe. There is something oddly comforting about that space, even on the final morning. Travelers sat with their coffees, some chatting quietly, others staring off as if already missing the gentle rocking of the sea. We found a place to sit and waited for our departure number to be called. Ticket number 37. It sounded so official, like a final chapter being neatly closed.

Tom made a quick stop at the security desk to retrieve our confiscated power strips. Meanwhile, I headed toward the baggage area, weaving through the steady flow of passengers, all of us moving with purpose yet carrying that subtle reluctance that comes with endings.

Finding our bags turned out to be surprisingly easy, a small victory in what could have been a chaotic process. And then, as if on cue, a porter appeared, offering assistance with a calm efficiency that immediately put me at ease. There is something reassuring about being guided in those moments when everything feels slightly uncertain. He led us through the terminal and into a private pickup area, sparing us the usual confusion and long waits.

And just like that, we were ready.

We contacted Rita and Gerhard to let them know we had arrived, and within about thirty five minutes, we were greeted with warm smiles and open arms. It is a rare and wonderful thing to have friendships that pick up exactly where they left off, no matter how much time or distance has passed.

Seeing them again brought back memories of our time in Bali, when we had shared a lunch during a port of call on that incredible forty seven night cruise spanning from December into March. Even then, in that faraway place, there had been a sense that our paths would continue to cross. And here we were again, this time on their home turf.

Their new vehicle was perfect for the task ahead, easily accommodating both us and our collection of luggage that always seems to grow with each journey. We settled in, grateful for the comfort, and began the two and a half hour drive to Vancouver, Washington.

As the city faded behind us and the landscape began to shift, I found myself relaxing in a way that only comes when you know you are in good hands. Conversation flowed effortlessly. We shared stories from the cruise, laughed about little mishaps, and listened just as eagerly to what had been happening in their lives since we last met.

There is something deeply grounding about these moments. After weeks of constant movement, of new places and fleeting encounters, being with dear friends offers a sense of stability that is both calming and restorative.

By the time we arrived, the earlier discomfort of my lingering cold seemed less significant, softened by the warmth of friendship and the promise of the days ahead. Four days here, in this beautiful city, with people we genuinely care about. It feels like a gift.

And so, as I sit here now, finally catching my breath and looking ahead, I am reminded that travel is not only about the destinations we explore, but also about the connections we nurture along the way. Tomorrow, I will begin sharing photos of this lovely place. But today, I wanted to hold onto yesterday just a little longer.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 8, 2016:

The two Katuks and Ribud (the pool and landscape guy) in Bali are holding up the three-kilo Blue Fin tuna for last night’s and tonight’s meal. After it was cleaned and filleted, there were two huge portions that we shared each night. Such wonderful people! Such fabulous fish! For more photos, please click here.

Day 24…Transpacific Cruise…One day and counting…Port of Victoria, British Columbia…

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Little pansy faces.

Day 23…Transpacific Cruise…Two days and counting until disembarkation…What are the chimes we hear udring flights?…

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From Travel + Leisure online magazine, found here.

“Those Beeps You Hear on a Flight Actually Mean Something—Here’s What Airplane Chimes Signal

A pilot weighs in on what one, two, and three chimes mean on a plane. By Lydia Mansel Published on May 4, 2026

The more often you fly, the more the entire process starts to feel routine. It becomes second nature to scan your boarding pass, settle into your row, buckle your seatbelt, and zone out—whether that means getting some work done or listening to your music—until it’s time to deplane. But if you take a moment to actually look at (and listen to) what’s going on around you, you may start to notice the subtle details that ensure your entire in-air experience runs seamlessly. One of those details is the beeps, or chimes, you hear during a flight.

To the untrained ear, these chimes are easy to ignore; they don’t register as anything urgent or noteworthy. And that’s precisely the point—they aren’t intended for passengers. “These sounds are meant for the flight crew (pilots and flight attendants) in order to keep everyone informed [and] standardize the flying experience, and [they] are standard operating procedures,” says Kolin Jones, a pilot and the founder and CEO of the private aviation company Amalfi Jets.

You’ll likely hear a few different versions of the dings or chimes. “Individual dings while at cruising altitude are the noises of another passenger ringing their flight attendant call button,” says Jones. They may be in need of a drink, assistance with their entertainment system, or something else that requires direct interaction with the crew.

Now what if you hear two chimes? “The double chimes you hear… indicate to the cabin crew that the aircraft is passing through 10,000 feet, which is usually when they will start to prepare the cabin for service, and enable passengers to get up and walk around,” says Jones. At the same time, you might also hear an announcement that you’re now able to use your electronic devices.

There may also come a time when you hear three chimes, although this tends to be rare. “Hearing three chimes is ‘priority communication,’ so usually the flight deck is calling the flight attendants with an urgent message or an emergency situation,” says Jones. Still, as a passenger, it’s important to remain calm and stay in your seat. If there is anything that needs to be communicated to you and your fellow passengers following the three chimes, the air crew will make an announcement.

While Jones says these sounds are “usually standard across all airlines/aircraft (commercially),” they can “vary per each individual airline’s standard operating procedures (SOPs).”

Continuing on…In just forty eight hours, this chapter of our sea journey to the US will come to a close. It’s hard to believe how quickly the days at sea have slipped through our fingers, each one filled with new faces, routines, and the comfort of life afloat. Soon, we’ll disembark, stepping off the ship with our luggage in hand and hearts full of memories we didn’t even know we were collecting.

Waiting for us will be our dear friends Rita and Gerhard, whose familiar smiles will mark the beginning of our next adventure. There’s something deeply comforting about being greeted by people who know you well, especially after weeks surrounded by strangers who, in their own way, became part of the story too.

The drive to Vancouver, Washington will feel like a transition between worlds. From the vast openness of the ocean to the beauty of the Pacific Northwest, it’s a shift we welcome with curiosity and gratitude. Four nights there lie ahead, offering us time to settle, reflect, and simply be before we begin our next journey across the northern states of the US, on our way to Minnesota.

As always, we move forward with open hearts, never quite knowing what each new place will bring, but trusting it will be exactly as expected.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 6, 2016:

In Bali, a Hindu temple on the road into town. For more photos, please click here.

Day 22…Transpacific Cruise…Three days and counting…How to Save in Summer Travel Amid Jet Fuel Price Increases

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From Travel + Leisure online magazine here.

“We Asked 5 Pros How to Save on Summer Travel Amid Jet Fuel Increases—These Are Their 6 Tips

With airfare up as much as 20 percent, flexibility and smart booking strategies can help cut costs. By Alison Fox, published on April 28, 2026

Summer travel is heating up, but rising fuel prices threaten to put a damper on warm-weather getaways. The ongoing war in Iran and closure of the Strait of Hormuz has forced airlines to cancel flights and fuel prices to soar. In fact, jet fuel prices have more than doubled over the last year, according to the airline trade group Airlines for America, and AAA noted that pump prices are the highest they’ve been at this time of year since 2022.

Flight prices are also up as a result: summer domestic airfare has increased by 10 to 15 percent, and prices for European trips from the United States are up by around 20 percent, according to data from Dollar Flight Club shared with Travel + Leisure.

But that doesn’t mean a dream summer vacation is out of the question. It just means American travelers have to be a bit more creative. “The core message for travelers is flexibility has never been more valuable,” Jesse Neugarten, the founder of Dollar Flight Club, told T+L. “In a normal year, being flexible with your dates and destinations can save 10 to 20 percent. But in this market, it has really escalated. If you can do that, there’s a ton of value still to be found.”

T+L tapped experts from across the travel industry to ask how to save money and navigate summer travel this year. These are their best tips.

Be flexible.
Flexibility is the keyword for summer: flexible with dates, destinations, and airports travelers fly in and out of. “Destination flexibility is the biggest lever, date flexibility is next, and airport flexibility comes in third,” Neugarten said. Considering alternative airports when booking may also translate to big savings, he added.

That could mean flying out of Philadelphia instead of one of the major New York City airports, for example, or choosing John Wayne Airport (SNA) in California instead of Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). Think about the Caribbean, Mexico, and staying closer to home.

to places like Europe may be experiencing unusually high price increases, but some destinations have more price stability.“If you’re just looking to go away and you haven’t made any plans, the predictably affordable places are going to be your best bet: the Southeast, the Caribbean, and coastal Mexico. We’re still seeing a healthy amount of cheap flights,” said Katy Nastro, a travel expert for Going. “It is further down the list for travelers because these areas tend to be really hot in the summer, really humid, and there is the threat of worse weather and hurricanes.”

Neugarten said prices on these routes may be holding because they tend to be shorter, burn less fuel, and have a lot of competition from low-cost carriers.

Don’t wait to book.
It’s always tempting to wait and see if flight prices go down, but experts say this is not the time to play that game. In fact, they said prices will likely just keep rising.

However, there is often a way to recoup money if prices do drop—as long as you don’t book basic economy, Nastro said. That is because many major U.S. airlines eliminated change fees for non-basic economy tickets.

“I would highly recommend booking that main economy ticket even if it’s going to take a bigger bite out of your wallet,” she said. “That main economy ticket is going to allow you if you have to make any changes and to take advantage of price drops. This year, any savings are major savings.”Set price alerts.

The only way to take advantage of price drops is to know when they happen. And setting price alerts on sites like Google Flights or Skyscanner is a sure way to do that.

But they can also be used to help plan a trip, said James Byers, a group product manager at Google Search.

“If your heart is set on a specific destination, but you’re flexible about when you fly, you can use price tracking for ‘Any dates’ and get an email about price drops for flights departing in the next three to six months,” Byers said.

Be strategic about road trips
Like jet fuel, gas prices have also been affected by global events. However, Nastro said the price at the pump is “more reactive to the market” and could “come down more suddenly than jet fuel.”

Travelers opting to stay closer to home and rent a car may want to start their trip earlier in the week, as this can lead to greater availability and lower rates, said Adnan Manzur, the senior vice president for North America customer operations at Hertz. Thursdays and Fridays are typically the busiest days for renting a car at an airport.

“Being a smart traveler isn’t about cutting corners, it’s about making a few thoughtful choices that save time and money upfront so you’re not paying a premium for it later,” Manzur said. “Travelers today are looking for experiences that feel seamless and are a good value. A little foresight … can stretch a travel budget much further.”Be prepared for changes

Airlines may be cutting flights, but experts said they tend to focus on less-profitable routes, off-peak times, routes with multiple daily flights, and smaller markets. In the U.S., Nastro said carriers are “making cuts at the margins.”

“They’re looking at where they make razor cuts,” she said. “I’m sure airlines are hedging their bets. It’s easier for them to add flights back… and they’re trying to be as cautious, but as surgical as possible.”

But in Europe, Nastro added, this could make hopping between countries by plane more difficult. Instead, she recommended travelers use trains or “keep your trip centralized, sticking to one country, sticking to destinations that don’t rely on short-haul flights.”Investing in travel insurance can also help with uncertainty. And travelers are taking advantage: last year, Berkshire Hathaway Travel Protection reported a 12 percent increase in total policies purchased. And they’ve seen a 7 percent increase in the first quarter of this year.

“Our position is always safety and security while traveling,” said Carol Mueller, a VP at Berkshire Hathaway Travel Protection. “And we want to make sure, no matter where people choose to go and what their budget is, that they feel comfortable and can find the right travel insurance for that type of trip.”

In a mere three days, we will step off the ship once again, trading the gentle sway of the sea for the steady ground beneath our feet. There is always something bittersweet about that moment. This floating world that has carried us across miles of ocean becomes a memory almost overnight. Yet, waiting for us at the port will be something just as meaningful, the warm smiles of our dear friends Rita and Gerhard.

The thought of that 2.5-hour drive together feels like a continuation of the journey rather than an end. Conversation, laughter, and familiar connection will fill the space between destinations. Our four nights in Vancouver, Washington, will offer a chance to settle, to breathe, and to spend time with our dear friends.

Then, onward again to Minnesota, with hopes of passing through Yellowstone National Park, where nature reminds us how small and fortunate we truly are.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, May 5, 2016:

Two teenage boys walked this young white horse down the beach to play in the river next to our holiday house in Bali. He seemed to love cooling off in the water. For more photos, please click here.