Category Archives: Adventures

Zip Therapy

Air Adventures, Travel Journal/Blog, , , , , , , ,

The Benefits of Ziplining

“If you never have, you should. These things are fun and fun is good.”
Dr. Seuss, Oh the Places You’ll Go

When presented with the chance to ride a zip line on the Caribbean island of St. Lucia, I applied the above philosophy. How cool. Gliding through an emerald rainforest renewed my spirit and released giggles galore.

My friend and I arrived at Tree Top Adventure Park, near the village of Dennery, eager to try the challenge. Certainly wasn’t expecting someone to flop a white bakery-style hairnet onto our heads; nor top that off with yellow helmets.

Next, we found ourselves draped in more harnesses and clinking chains than the ghost of Jacob Marley. Then, we donned extra heavy-duty leather gloves.

“Ready?” asked Daniel, a guide with an impish smile.

“Sure,” replied Johanna, “but a little nervous.”

“No problem,” said Daniel, a hint of his Creole accent breaking through. “This is Simeon; he’ll be helping out.”

We climbed to a wooden platform built around a tree, making me feel akin to the Swiss Family Robinson. Daniel hitched three pulleys from his harness to a stainless steel wire strung across a ravine, then scooted off. Safety procedures require one guide to be on each end of the line.

“I’ll go next,” I shouted and lowered myself into a semi-sit, the harness cradling my body. Off I flew like Tarzan’s Jane, suspended from a vine. The process was easy and the ride just scary enough to cause a rush.

Swoosh; I landed on my feet, laughing and raving about the wild ride. The rest of the group crossed over with equally happy faces and cheers. We were clipped into safety lines, and then our guides snapped us onto the next cable.

I found it hard to resist the urge to pound my chest like an ape and let out a deep yodeling cry. Trouble was I needed to grip the tether with my left hand and stabilize any rotation with my right.

During ten more rides, we frolicked as monkeys in the mist. We soared as colorful yellow-headed parrots; took flight over small gushing rivers, flew higher than treetops and danced in dense tropical foliage.

Helen, age 50, conquered her fear of heights and couldn’t wait to tell her college-age daughters she won their challenge. Her husband David seemed to come alive, beaming with joy, as a child deep in an imaginary world.

I know it sounds dramatic to say a zipline escapade is therapeutic. But, for boomers fraught with creeping age, it just might be. The outing encouraged a return to carefree play, ignited laughter and an “I don’t wanna grow up” attitude. Dr. Seuss is right: “These things are fun and fun is good.”

If you find yourself on St. Lucia, don’t miss the chance to go ziplining:
www.adventuretourstlucia.com

Surviving Dominica

Island Destinations, Land Adventures, , , , , , , , ,
Beach carin

Rain pings against the metal roof of the treehouse, torrents that rip the hillside and drown the music of the tree frog serenade. Peering out an open window, I watch immense tropical plant leaves fill with water, sag, then douse the already saturated soil.

“No hiking today,” grumbles my husband, in a pre-caffeine stupor.

“Wanna bet?” I reply, eager for our planned trek. We’re part of a small group adventuring to Dominica’s famous Boiling Lake. The volcanic crater sits within 17,000-acre Morne Trois Pitons National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Our six-hour round-trip takes us through the Valley of Desolation, where sulfuric fumes killed most of the vegetation. But, on the return route, we’ll stop to soak our tired muscles in thermal springs.

Continue reading Surviving Dominica →

Going to Carolina ~ Chapel Hill

Family Life, Land Adventures, Travel Journal/Blog, , , ,

UNC BelltowerUNC B BallJT Museum

I was going to Carolina in more than my mind. I was on a plane for Raleigh Durham. Destination — Chapel Hill: home to the University of North Carolina Tar Heels and the boyhood stomping grounds of James Taylor.

“Who?” my daughter asks.

“You know, the guy who wrote and sang “Sweet Baby James,” “Fire and Rain,” and of course, “Going to Carolina,” I tell her.

“No,” she replies.

“Well, you should,” I say.

Too bad she wasn’t able to come along and tour the Chapel Hill Museum. I made the effort specifically to view the new exhibition: The James Taylor Story.

Chapel Hill shouts college town: collegiate shops bulging with logo paraphernalia, pizza, pita and burrito restaurants catering to big appetites and small wallets, and The Library, a place you can tell Mom you went last night, omitting the fact that it’s a bar.

The museum resides in an old house, a few blocks down Franklin Street, from its intersection with Columbia. That area, known as “top of the hill” is a spot that burns brightly in the hearts of UNC fans. Students congregate there, lighting bonfires whenever the Tarheels beat arch rival, Duke.

Nestled in this manicured garden community is the little museum featuring the Taylor display. While it only encompasses one corner, for baby boomers, it’s well worth an hour’s time.

The collection includes family photos, old report cards, childhood artwork like James’ self-portrait as a football player and a slew of album covers. Behind glass sits Taylor’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame trophy, a Grammy award and a copy of a March, 1971 Time magazine with his face on the cover. Taylor says in a documentary, “being chosen for that cover was like winning the lottery.”

The best part is the Taylor theater; if you can call a few movie seats in front of a flat screen TV a theater. Here, one can choose from a vast collection of JT documentaries and taped concerts. I watched his interview on 60 minutes, 20/20 and Inside North Carolina.

Depression hit Taylor in his teens and drew him to heroin. He claims he should be dead, but was rescued. In one of the videos he said he has “an easier time singing about life, then living it.” Despite those early troubles, Taylor appears happy, a blessed fellow.

To me, he seems like a bottle of fine wine created with superior ingredients: a strong and clear voice, skilled fingers to master the acoustic guitar and the ability to search his soul and pour lyrics from his heart. He was crushed, but his juicy pulp fermented and gave rise to a winning blend. He mellowed on the shelf, twisted and turned until aged to perfection.

His voice remains easy, his ballads ring true. Little has changed over the decades, except his hairline. With James Taylor, you’ve got a friend.

www.chapelhillmuseum.org
523 Franklin Street
Chapel Hill, NC
919 967-1400