On her first trip to Wales, Tennessee-based writer Ann Yungmeyer finds that artisan cuisine puts the small but passionate country on the Foodie map.
I prefer to travel alone. I’m at my most selfish and self-indulgent when I fly solo. I also feel at my most vulnerable. Sometimes, I go to countries where a wandering single white woman is an attraction in and of itself. Are there moments of discomfort? Of course. Do I feel in danger? Very rarely.
When I proudly proclaimed to my family and friends that I was going to travel to South America alone, my enthusiasm was met with questioning looks and more than one objection. “Why?” was the general response. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” “Isn’t it dangerous there as a 21-year-old blonde, alone?”
The pace of our training is the first challenge. I start slowly and clumsily; putting my thumbs in the wrong places and struggling to manhandle ropes into messy half-remembered knots. When your life depends on that knot, you’ve got to know it instinctively. The ocean doesn’t give you a second chance because you’re a beginner.
They say patience is a virtue, but when it comes to travel, I’m not that virtuous. When I arrived in India a few weeks ago to complete the Rickshaw Run, I realized that mentality wouldn’t work. With a 7-horsepower, two-stroke engine, the auto-rickshaws we’d be steering across India run at an average of 35 mph.
Ann Yungmeyer’s great travelogue on her cycling trip down the Danube Bike Trail.
Sea Dragon was making good time, and we weren’t expected in Tahiti for nine days so we made a pit stop on Pitcairn Island. Of its 55 inhabitants, 44 are are direct descendants of the original mutineers who sought refuge there. I couldn’t wait to see how the folks survived in this isolated place.
The film explores backcountry riding in South America in some of the most remote areas from Peru’s Cordillera Blanca to Chilean Patagonia. I had the opportunity to ask Nick Waggoner, the director, a few quick questions hours before the film opened in Salt Lake City.
I’m not fond of long car rides, but sometimes I just need to suck it up, hop in a car, and drive to get away. And it’s usually worth it.
Henderson Island—a makatea, which means raised coral island—is in the middle of the South Pacific. Although we were restricted from exploring the island’s interior, the excitement stopping here, checking out the beach for both birds and plastic, and surfing a reef in the middle of nowhere filled me with nervous excitement.
Why am I so hesitant to weed out my water bottle collection? Because each bottle is connected with a memory or meaningful event. Sure, the memory won’t disappear with the bottle, but the bottle is a concrete reminder of the event. Read on for examples.
I crossed seven states in 10 days, visited friends, congratulated a couple on their beautiful wedding, and saw some amazing places along the way. When I finally parked my vehicle for good, I looked up and saw I made it back to Colorado just in time to watch the sunset.
The deep blue on the horizon beckoned me as I searched for another island in the distance. Stepping onto the ground felt like walking straight off the last page of great novel and into a place in my life that will forever be marked as before and after. Before I sailed the Pacific.
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