There's only one watersport in which I can claim basic competence and therefore enjoyment. It's stand-up paddle boarding.
A stark, desolate beauty draws visitors to the Owens Valley. Its rugged isolation and proximity to the soaring granite peaks of the Eastern Sierra promise solitude hard to find elsewhere in California.
A Spectacular Find in our own Backyard
I took what might have sounded like a wishful comment from my wife as a request. "I want to go camping at Jalama," April said in passing at some point last winter.
Given California's size, it seems there are always more roads that lead to undiscovered corners of the state.
Until recently, the western segment of State Route 178 was one of them for me. If it sounds familiar, it's that left turn off State Route 14, past Red Rock on the way to Mammoth, that seemingly leads to nowhere.
When considering weekend get-away destinations, Santa Barbara is tough to beat. Lively bars. Intriguing restaurants. Abundant shopping. Chic hotels. All accented with that worry-free weather. What's not to love, right?
The grounds are bursting with luscious blooms; rich, glorious green is everywhere the eye can see; and the warming sun is balanced by cool marine breezes. It's spring at The Saticoy Club - and it is glorious.
When it comes to hiking, I'm usually reluctant to leave the Santa Clarita Valley. Why drive somewhere else when you can hit any one of dozens of trails right here in our own backyard?
There's one question that inspires fear in every significant other. OK, two questions, actually.
Say "Getty" these days and everyone assumes you're talking about the Getty Center museum complex atop the Sepulveda Pass that affords commanding views of the Westside all the way to the ocean.
Three thousand, one hundred feet. Seventy miles. Seven pitchers. Six guys. Three days. One question.
That's a rough accounting of the recent expedition undertaken to Mammoth by a group of mountain-biking friends - James, Mike, Jason, Todd, Tony and me.
I wasn't ready for Zion National Park, but Zion was ready for me. To surprise me. To push me. To make me stop and wonder.
Our weekend in San Francisco is much like the city itself - packed, busy, close - a whole lot going in a very small space, or in our case, a small amount of time.
Our foolproof plan to explore a city is simple. Book a well-appointed hotel. Then walk and see what we discover along the way. We followed that plan to perfection for a recent weekend in San Francisco.
Don't be one of those guys scrambling around Ralph's the morning of Mother's Day. Salvaging a bouquet from the left-overs. Scrounging for an envelope to match your card. Swearing you're going to put more thought into it next year.
A 100-year Celebration at March Air Force Base April 7th and 8th
The first bottle of bubbly was well on its way to empty as our Mercedes merged onto the 101 freeway, barely five minutes into our trip. Not to worry. There was another bottle already on ice, so I could quickly pop the cork for nearly-instant refills. With nine glasses to keep filled, you've always got to be thinking one bottle ahead.
If you've been at this Valentine's Day thing for a while, sometimes a surprise is in order. Mix it up. Go somewhere new. Do something unexpected; out of character, even.
With a new year comes a new calendar - and the opportunity to fill that calendar with travel plans. Don't call them resolutions. Those just lead to guilt when they're not followed. Instead, think of these as a travel wish list - possibilities for fun in the year ahead.
To know my daughter Brooke is to know that more is better.
Whether we're talking nail polish, hugs or frosting, Brooke likes to pile it on. As our resident crafter/baker/seamstress, she is a whirlwind of grand ideas, many of which are inspired by the Food Network. She has an eye for style and real kitchen flair, but sometimes, clean-up takes a backseat to creativity.
- What is the sum of 5 + 2?
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