Cradle of Modern America

Spring is in the air and nothing makes me feel more alive than a cemetery! Mutti and me hopped aboard an early bus to Boston today to enjoy a day of sightseeing history in Beantown. Several signers of the Declaration of Independence are buried here including Samuel Adams, John Hancock and Paul Revere, all agitators for resistance. We can thank Boston for the seeds of revolution began here in the 1730's culminating in events like the Boston Massacre of 1770, the Boston Tea Party of 1773 and Paul Revere's ride in 1775. These brave actions changed American history forever and while marvelous shopping in Back Bay, Quincy market and Beacon Hill distract most visitors attention it's impossible to ignore the history here. Mutti and I ended our day with light fare at the popular Legal Seafood Company near the docks. Nothing beats lobster bisque after walking the red-brick freedom trail past 16 nationally significant historic sites.

Franco-American Misunderstandings

Returning from Paris, France today, I singlehandedly proved that the French are NOT the rude stereotype everyone thinks they are. Several dozen Parisians stopped in the city streets and on the Métro to help me with my luggage, assist in directions and offer advice. The luggage I carry is no easy task (I'm guessing 200 pounds) but that didn't stop a small-suited business man from heaving it up 2 flights of stairs for me, then, in broken english, telling me how to get to the Charles DeGaul Airport. Voila - good samaritans everywhere I go!

One stigma that does ring true but is misconstrued for rudeness is initiating a smile when first meeting someone who is French. As explained by my Tuesday's tourguide Sandra, a 'smile' is reserved for Parisians who know other Parisians intimately. If a foreigner smiles at a Parisian before getting to know them it is thought to be mocking derision or poking fun at them. The only exception is dogs and babies. Strangers can smile at dogs and babies and no harm done. Not smiling takes incredible effort and not doing it takes practice so on the Métro I simply staired at the directional map above the door.

Not smiling seems to be a tradition that breaks down with location though. Smiling at others in a public park or from the comfort of a cafe table is permissible. Careful though - doing so invites far more than just friendship, as I learned. Smiling at a store owner before greeting her/him with "Bonjour" returns a cold, almost contemptuous response. Sandra explained the proper etiquette too late but it was nice knowing that it was my Franco-American misunderstanding of their culture and not my fragmented French that the Parisians disapproved of. Still, I had no problem asking complete stangers on city streets for the time or directions, with or without a smile. So, I guess it depends on both location and intention but it's a stigma that shouldn't keep you from visiting this wonderful city. Au revoir!

Anything But Graffiti

Sandra Hoyois, a seasoned tour guide that speaks seven languages and works for ‘Not a Tourist Destination’ spent the morning explaining all the strange and yet finely crafted paintings I’ve seen painted on walls around this city. Especially in the Marais and in the La Chapelle Districts ‘street artists’ as they are known, work auspiciously at night because it is considered illegal to deface walls and buildings. On the contrary, their professional art is not graffiti unlike the spray-painted gang ‘tags’ popular with teen rebels. Rather their work is lively, humorous, colorful and imaginative. Several dozen street artists are professionally known and own their own shops but because they feel so passionate about Paris, when they see a blank canvas on the side of a building they spend hours, even weeks sometimes, bringing it to life, so to speak. There are giraffes, lions, tigers, elephants, butterflies and many other exotic wild animals roaming the dirty back streets of the 18th district. There are oversized, voluptuous and rolly-polly fat woman parading down the busy art district close to the Picasso museum. There are artists of all kinds displaying their works in this new medium and receiving positive feedback from the locals who live here. Still, the law considers the beautiful pictures vandalism and will unfortunately arrest them, toss them in jail and impose stiff penalties. Furthermore, the paintings are hosed down or painted over the same drab color the building began with. But the artists I spoke with insist they don’t care if their work is destroyed by the police or they are threatened with big fines because they know it brings fleeting happiness to everyone who sees it and that’s worth it for them in the end.

The Basilica of Sacré Coeur

From atop Mon Martius in Montemart, the Basilica of Sacré Coeur (Sacred Heart) has one of the best views of the Paris skyline ever! After my buzzing around Alex's motorbike I hopped aboard the metro to make it to the 4th century church before sunset.
And lo and behold security let me film with a tripod here. How happy was I! Tripods are always banned on the grounds that your a professional and looking to sell the images. Okay, I confess, I am and I will if the price is right...

Language of Love and Adventure

I have two new fabulously remarkable people to add to my growing roster of strangely coincidental or fateful friendships. MA Shumin produces videos for turnhere.com (as do I) and Alexander Poussin is one of the most famous Eiffel Tower/Notre Dame climbers in France. I met up with Shumin near her place in the 18th Arrondissement (French for 'district') and later took a tour of Paris on the back of Alex's BMW motorbike. Alex and his wife Sonia (hey, same name!) are best known for their treks across the world including Africa which they themselves filmed but Travel Channel edited. The 12 episodes already aired here in France and with fingers crossed will be airing on PBS in the states this summer.

Alex's rusty BMW weaved and darted through tight traffic, flew through the tunnel where Diana crashed and died, circled briefly around Place de la Concorde, made a brief stop at the Eiffel Tower and then finished up at Notre Dame Cathedral. It was heavenly not having to foot my gear 25 miles - unlike the last 2 days. Alex speaks good English, enough to tell the story of what inspires adventure and risk-taking in his life. "I don't take risks unless I'm completely convinced that I can do them. I like to live and this is living," he said.

Like the documentary I'm working on about Serge Roetheli (the man who ran around with world in 8 years), Alex and Sonia are just as inspiring for walking through Africa in 3 years. The one trait that all my adventure friends have in common is their ebullient spirits. Living larger than life takes a special kind of person and by pure happenstance both my finds speak French. Not only is this language one of love but adventure as well!

A European Sport

With not a cloud in sight it's another stellar picture-taking day here in Paris, France. It's election day and everyone is excited about the outcome of France's next President to be decided on May 6. Everyone is talking about how intensely fought this campaign has been and with long lines at the polling stations it's clear it's important. I'm not interested in politics though, not when there are so many more sites to see and museums to enjoy. Today I got to see the game of boules, otherwise known as pétanque, a sport close to many French hearts. A group of them were playing on the gravel grounds just opposite the Eiffel tower. The object of the game is to toss little metallic balls at a smaller size ball called a cochonnet so that it lands closer than your opponent. Occassionlly the balls strike each other so as to drive the opponent's ball away and yours closer. It's sounds simple enough but there's plenty of stragedy and skill involved. I've been living off baguettes and crêpes for 2 days but tonight I wine and dine with cuisine prepared by the world-renowned chef Alain Ducasse at Hotel Plaza Athénée. It's a five restaurant and the ultimate culinary expression of "sophistication".

Sightseeing in Paris

Blogging in Paris is not cheap! It's cost $30 for 2 hours of wifi at one of the few internet cafes on the left bank. My apologies in advance for typos (I have an excuse today!)

Arrived bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on the Euro Train this morning in the 'City of Amour'. It took no time at all to get here from Montpellier with a high-speed train that accelerates at 350 miles an hour. Bright yellow patches of mustard seed and red poppies painted the landscape through my window. Spotted cows and little idyllic villages added to the romance and idyllic charm of the ride. Ever few miles the train stopped to let on passengers, mostly young beautiful couples embracing tightly in farewell goodbyes. I felt like a prying voyeur snapping away at their pleasure. The trip ended far too soon and I hopped a taxi to the cutest low budget hotel in the artistic left bank, only 2 streets away from the Seine River and the famous Pont Neuf. A motherly type owner struggled with her English as I did the same in French. "Ahhh, Sony... Sony Stark - oui, oui." And with that she tossed me a key to my second floor bedroom with access to balcony overlooking a lush garden. This is an Avant tour book pick that I checked out from the library weeks ago. I'm tres happy! In a blink of a flash I abscond for the city streets with my camera in toe. First things first - I need a 3-way splitter/adapter to recharge my batteries. The walk takes me past the Notre Dame, over another bridge, past hundreds of outdoor cafes, artisans and musicians and finally to the department store I was looking for. After my sale, it's onward to grab a bite of a baguette with fresh goat cheese sitting comfortably on sun-baked cobblestone in front of the Hotel de Ville. It's so picturesque here I try to stop blinking as to not miss a thing. After tipping my acoustic guitarist he sings "Bye, bye, Miss American Pie..." as I turn away in appreciation of his attempt at a sweet serenade in English. Probably the only song his knows in my native tongue. Onward I push toward the Louvre, the Champs de Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower. A homeless artist flatters me with "Oh, you look like Bridgette Bordeaux my dear, please sit so I can draw your face." Reluctantly I know he's no sketch artist but he obviously needs the money and is trying to do something in return so I take a rest on his bench. "Smile, smile" he keeps repeating in French. This poor sap is beyond bad and on-lookers are giggling and grimacing as they peep at his palette. When he's done, it truly is the worst portrait representation of myself I've ever seen but, then again, this might be some form of artistic expression I haven't heard about. Not likely but I muster another smile and offer him $5 Euro. He's thrilled with himself. Onward the day goes and.... oh wait, my Internet time is up! Next time.

Three-Star Trip

More "Cinderella Moments" last night dining at a Michelin-rated restaurant and again today in Carcassonne. Up until this trip, I had never heard of a Michelin Guide (Le Guide Michelin) but after spending 4 days with food critics that write for Bon Appetite and Gourmet magazines, well, that tends to boosts your bravery in new exotic cuisine department. And for those who don't know - the Michelin Red Guide is the oldest and best-known European hotel and restaurant guide in the world. It awards Michelin stars (3-2-1) to restaurants with the highest standards of dining protocol and also publishes Green Guides for travel and tourism. If you can't trust these folks, who can you trust? While the rest of my party easily tastes their way through dishes seasoned with cardamom and ginger, I'm struggling to identify asparagus from lobster. No kidding. My ill-refined palette has a long way to go which excites me because thats one more high calibre restaurant I'll be dining at to get better. Speaking of which, I'll off for my 8pm dining experience in 10 minutes. More food photos to come.

City of Medieval Stone

This is the walled city of Carcassonne in South France.

French Customs

I've ate enough pati, fois gras and green olives followed by glasses of barky oak red to last an eternity this week. It's after midnight and I'm struggling to climb to the top floor of the Romanesque Château Comtal and the Gothic Basilica of Saint-Nazaire, the Hôtel de la Cité. I'm in the city of Carcassonne in Southern France tonight and this place is so magical and so fairytale-like that I feel like Cinderella - Cinderella who will inevietable turn into a pumpkin if I keep eating cheese and baquettes during every 3-hour meal here. This aristocratic hotel offers luxury beyound compare all within the walls of an old medieval fortified city. Every room offers views of narrow cobble-stone streets or the city far down the opposing hill. My room on the top floor has a little balcony jutting off the side with views of lush gardens with al fresco dining tables. The manager offered us a personal tour where Grace Kelly, Johney Depp and hundreds more famous actors stayed. The tour weaved in and out of long corridors and tight hallways almost like an erudite labyrinth wanting its customers to get lost just to see its hidden treasures. This place breaths history. Tomorrow, I scale the imposing and impregnable stone walls circling the city which welcome some 2 million visitors a year. But tonight I'm so captivated with the panaromic view of towers and turrets it's going to take a long while before I'm asleep.

Living Large in France

Southern France is so beautiful in spring time! This is where generations of families continue to live in elegant chateaus, grow world-class grapes for harvesting and polish off a 3-hour lunch with goat cheese and ripe olives. Yes - the living is large this week in the beautiful, mediterranean climate of Beziers and Montpellier. The first night was spent inside a midieval castle owned by 2 surprisingly down-to-earth parisian artists by the name of Christine and John. Since the late 1970s they have restored and refurbished their Victorian splendor into a funky, colorful, hip space for themselves and guests to enjoy. I stayed in a room with a fireplace and furniture from antiquity clashing creatively with pop art and Johns nude, double eyed mermaids. As soon as I bunk in a hotel with wifi I will upload the photos as well as figure out how to use a parenthesis in my writing. Damn, these foreign keyboards!

Civilized Flying

It's first class all the way with me Baby! With a wink and a knod, I squeezed my way into the business lounge followed by a first class seat (make that barker lounger) aboard an Airbus 300 destined for France. Pure luxury doesn't even begin to explain how I was pampered on my 7 hour flight in this morning. Hot handcloths, a menu of delicious french cuisine, 5 choices of wine, a full cocktail bar along with a personal attendant to cater on my ever whim. I usually sleep well in coach class but dozing on cloud nine first class is a sleep is indescribable. No crying babies, no loud talkers, no pushing, shoving and waiting in long lines for the WC. This degree of comfort and coddling is something I can get used to. Oops, gotta run - we're boarding again for our second flight out to Southern France. More to come.

Benevolent Bard College

Another plane delay. Oh brother. Instead of earthquakes and tornados New England gets nor'easters (cyclonic storms) with heavy snow, rain and flooding. The intensity of this nor'easter bombed its way through New York this weekend. I aimed to hop a train and cancel my reservations with Continental but they refused refunds. Being at the mercy of airlines is nothing new and gives me time to think about more important matters. Like, last night's CBS 60 minutes episode.

Correspondent Bob Simon visited an elite liberal arts college just south of Albany that educates inmmates at a nearby maximum security prison called Eastern Correctional Facility. The ex-cons are serving long sentences for assault, rape and murder and possibility of early parole is slim. 50% of those that do eventually leave just end up back on the streets more desperate than before. That's where Bard College is making a difference. Bard provides a privately-funded program to rehabiliate and free the minds of the incarcerated so when they finally enter the world they have the ability to think and reason.

"The Bard College program, which is privately funded, has been in this prison for six years and the academics are tough. One inmate tells Simon he and other inmates study five or six hours a day, outside of class, to make the grade." Courses, like English, sociology, philosophy, and German are more important than learning a trade or some vocational training because it teaches you how to cope in life, sums up an ex-con. Benevolent Bard makes an investment in people that society has written off and in effect is reducing crime.

"Not every prisoner gets the opportunity; only about 10 percent of the inmates who apply to the college program are accepted. Prison life can be so routine and depressing, it's no wonder that these men jump at the chance to escape with their minds, if not with their bodies."

This is radical thinking on Bard's part and in my opinion, a no-brainer for reducing crime.

Step It Up!

For Earth Day I spent my time in Bethel but the rest of my buddies marched, rallied and demonstrated on the streets of Albany, Battery Park, Middlebury, Portland, Lenox, Troy and D.C. Miss Nola Royce and the Adirondack Mountain Climbing Club made all the local papers with their 11-mile ascent to the top of Whiteface Mnt in foggy, slippery conditions. It was all to draw attention to the skyrocking problem of carbon emissions in this country, China and India organized by Step It Up.

"Places like Whiteface would be the last redoubt of a vanishing winter, so high-altitude trips like Saturday's could become a necessity for those who want to see snow," writes editor for the Times Union, Brian Nearing. The group of 8 advocates probably was the smallest of all 1400 events happening nationwide on Saturday. Millions united to push Congress to cut greenhouse gases 80% by 2050. Both numbers seemingly feel almost impossible but the damaging consequences of not doing it are very real.

So if you missed a gathering this weekend, do your part this Spring and plant a tree, buy a hybrid or ride a bike! Okay, that's my green speech for this week.

Bethel Woods Before and After

There is a long, long, very long distance between Woodstock and Bethel Woods. Today, I calculate it at over 60 miles and 1.5 hours of driving at a descent clip. But once I arrive at the legendary home of counterculture and rock n' roll I'm within earshot of musical spirits like Janis Joplin, The Grateful Dead and Jimi Hendrix. In 1969, this culmination of music with peace, love and togetherness was what Brian Hollander, now Editor for the Woostock Times, was looking for along with 500,000 others. He and his friends certainly found something to remember it by.

High in the Catskills of Sullivan County Brian tracks down the tiny patch of earth that he squatted on 37 years ago. The big empty field is squared off by property fencing and freshly planted pines. Max Yagur's 600 acre farm still remains intact - free of suburban housing and commercial development. Brian kneels down and plants his tush in the wet spring grass careful not to sit in deer droppings. "This is it, this is where it all went down" he says while pulling a long silver peace-sign medallion from his pocket and holding it up to my camera. Brian brainstormed the night before and translates his ephemeral memories into poetic nostalgia.

On the very top of the hallow grounds sits a gazillion dollar Center for the Arts building and copper-colored pavillion. In July the theater debuts classical, rock, pop, jazz and country concerts to several thousands. Unlike living off the farm land in 1969, Brian is pleased to know that food, shelter and sanitary bathroom facilities are available today. If you have the chance to visit the myths, realities and the legacies of Woodstock make sure you bring someone who was there in the beginning and then sit back and watch them dream.

Out Cold like a Coma

I joyfully slip into hibernation as someone else takes the wheel, for a change, and drives to New York City today. Most weeks I navigate solo running up over 1000 miles on my car between Vermont, Massachusetts, New York and New Jersey. When production assignments are offered I take them and rarely let a little thing like distance stand in the way. For heaven's sake, with the amount of traveling I do, my driving to Boston, Midtown or Burlington in a day, is like a quick trip to the local grocer.

The thing is, because I've learned to nap when in motion, like in a airplane, bus or train, I can't control not doing the same in a vehicle. The repetitive motion and the soothing sound of an engine just cradles me right to sleep. This is really becoming a life-threatening problem when I'm alone and there are few songs on the radio to keep me interested. I've even dozed off for a couple seconds but miraculously came through the last minute before hitting a guardrail.

I know where it comes from. It stems from a habit developed while shooting a documentary around the world on a ship a couple years ago. The only free time I had to catch up on zzzz's was during flights, bus trips and train rides. I honed my body to literally fall asleep standing up, to catch quick catnaps on the spur of the moment and snooze through loud deafening noises. It was purely a survival technique that kept me from loosing my mind working 12 hour days with 700 students for 3 months.

16 hour flights overseas even encourage my repose. I always miss out on the peanuts, drink cart, the movie, all of the take-off and even some of the landing. Some would think this a good thing. But driving is an anaesthesia for me and there is just so much I can do when I don't drink caffeine. And I'm done self-inflicting bruises on myself. I literally pinch my skin until it bleeds to stay awake. I have an idea - who wants to be my chauffeur?

Turnhere Debut

Turnhere.com is now showing several videos I produced,shot and edited on Taiwan, Panama and England last year. These include 2 never-before-seen videos all about the Portobelo Black Christ Festival filmed in October and the famous Night Markets of Taiwan a few months before. Take a peak at the new stuff and be ready for a whole mess more on Paris and Southern France by the end of the month as well as Russia in June. Yes, yours truly is embarking on a trip through St.Petersburg and Tula this summer so bookmark Turnhere.com if you haven't done so already. Thanks!

Carving at Killington

I swear I have a job...I really do. You wouldn't think so by reading my blog but rest assured that I work as hard as I play. And there's no better place to play than Killington Mountain in beautiful bucolic Vermont. It's so exciting driving north from Albany and seeing the size of the snowbanks increase exponentially with altitude.

Killington is a monster, a beast, a 3-headed lion roaring to be reckoned with. No other mountain even comes close to her size, scope, dimension and trail lengths. Nola and I did a pretty good job of beating her up today as did hundreds more taking advantage of fresh powder, holiday vacations and warmer-than-winter temperatures.

A lonely bystander by the name of Paul looked like he needed some chair companionship so we sandwiched the lucky fellow between the two of us on Snowdon Quad. He reciprocated his gratitude by showing off his dazzling swoosh and carve technique down a 40-degree chute. A man who drives 40mph down double diamonds and makes it look easy is worth knowing. Other than the North Ridge Triple Chair and the plush comforts of the K1 Express Gondola few other lifts were open, hence several trails closed. No matter. It was our first time and given the company we were with - first Paul then later a family man with a bag of Snickers to share, this made for an incredible adventure... yet again.

Hiking Mount Greylock

The first photo is Ms.Margaritte, my Parisian Artist, Hitchhiker and all-around new Egalitarian friend. She and Nola, Amanda and myself set out bright and early Saturday morning to conquer one of the Berkshire's most popular mountains - Mount Greylock. The 3,491-foot peak, also accessible by car, is the highest peak in Massachusetts and offers visitors views of up to 100 miles. That's 4 exhausting miles up and 4 staggering miles down! Nola and Margaritte lead the pack with gusto and energy that I haven't exerted since 18 - proving that both travel and mountain hiking keeps you young. Temperatures remained comfortable (33-35 degrees) pushing us to peel off layers every few hundred feeet.

The newly fallen snow made for a picture-perfect wonderland. Trees, branches, roadsigns, leanto's, everything was coated in a thick white blanket with deep blue skies that stayed sunny all day. A photographers dream. Nearing the summit, the trail slipped into a small narrow path winding through dense pockets of pines and scrubby evergreens. 24 hours ago I was swimming in the warm waters of the Gulf Coast with manatees and now I'm on top of the world. I'm feeling beyond blessed this Easter weekend.

On Memorial day the 1932 Bascom Lodge, built by Civilian Conservation Corps opens for its 75th year. It provides accommodations for 32 people, a quick lunch and an aerial view of North Adams, Williamstown and the several ski resorts in the distance. Click on the photos to go to my flickr set of photos on this hike.

Urban Ennui

"You won't find your answer in a book (or blog). You just have to go there."

This is a quote taken from Bill Murray's character in the movie 'The Razor's Edge' adapted from W.Somerset Maugham's 1944 novel about a World War I vet's quest for meaning. I used to think that reading about a person or place would satisfy my curiosity to know more. I wrongly believed that a biography divulged all a person's secrets and/or a travel memoir allowed me to circumvent any need to visit. On the contrary, living vicariously through someone else's journeys just made me envious and miserable. When Max from GoNomad offered me a couple trips after another bad breakup (unbeknownst to him) things finally started to change. My 'quest for meaning' in my own urban ennui started to unravel slowly but surely. I stopped waiting for others to change and initiated change in myself. I became proactive rather than reactive and literally overnight, a better and brighter place opened up. Tonight I'm off to South Deerfield, Mass. to celebrate GoNomad Cafe's 1 year anniversary as well as my 2-year initiation into this select group of gifted writers. I can't tell you how wonderful it is to look at life like Churchhill once described.... "A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."

Age of Virtue and Enlightenment

I arrived home a few hours ago to doom and gloom: overcast cloudy skies with strong wind gusts pelting snow on my windshield and a profitable business trip to San Francisco cancelled last minute. Such is the reality of returning from vacationing in paradise: short-lived tans and spent credit cards. The good news is travel-related assignments are never far from view. Paris, France is right around the corner, Lonely Planet might be needing me to edit a Discovery project and shooting journeys in Woodstock, New York City, and atop Mount Greylock (Berkshire, Mass) are on the near horizon.

On my flight home today I picked up the April issue of National Geographic Adventure magazine (even while traveling I can't get enough of travel). The headline story explores the "7 Ages of Adventure" or "How to Be in the Right Place at the Right Time of Your Life". Pouring over the different countries that best complement a person's age I wasn't surprised to learn that Cambodia and Borneo are best at attracting idealists in the Age of Virtue (17-22) and Australia and Tibet are perfect for appealing to the Age of Enlightment (23-30) or those looking to make peace in the world and do some soul searching. I'm 36 years - oh no, does that mean I'm pass my prime to appreciate these places? Am I a late bloomer? Did I miss something?

All four countries have been on my "Top 20" countries to visit since I was 13 so I can't possibly let an article change that. But maybe I do need a reminder of how old I'm getting (but not feeling) because I was caught yet again trying on swimsuits in the junior section in a popular department store in Florida this week. Ooops. The fashions still fit...or so I think they still do....

In any event, let travel be a lesson to everyone who pursues it - YOU WILL FORGET how old you really are if you make it a habit.

Twin Sightings

The locals in these parts are missing a whole mess of teeth but what they can't afford they make us for in generosity. Today, our guide Tracie took us canoeing on the Chassahowitzka (Land of the Hanging Pumpkins) with canoes donated for an hour by a hotel and rental shop owner. Luckily, he still has all his pearly whites. We paddled around several small bays with fresh water springs and underwater tunnels for exploration. This was the clearest and cleanest water we'd ever traversed and catching sight of pools of mullets and catfish nearly had my Dad in tears for not bringing his fishing pole. We went as far as an old railroad trellice surreptiously hidden behind a crowd of tall grass. Water-soaked logs are all that remain of a busy transportation route that once ran from one side of the state to the other. The best catch of the day was spotting the elusive mother manatee nursing her two twin calves born last September. News of the twin set of manatees was headline news last year and here we were in the backwoods of toothless territory befriending three giant mammoths. Little sis was the only one the new borns allowed to scratch their backs but this tickled us all with delight. Our trip is indeed complete and video of the entire thing should be online at the Citrus County website in a few short weeks!

Not a Petting Zoo

It's no easy feat donning a wetsuit, flippers, goggles and a snorkel for the first time in the open waters of Kings Bay. I was PADI-certified years ago but Dad and little sis can barely swim without noseplugs and adequate temperatures. The natural fed spring water of Crystal Springs is a balmy 72 degrees, ideal for a 20 minute dip sans suit but not a 2-hour hunt for manatee. And hunt we did along with 25 other commercial dive shops looking to get their customers moneys worth. The murky stew was so churned up with activity that even if there was a manatee around we wouldn't have know it. There was zero visability in even 3 feet of water today and most manatee spook easy from commotion.

I knew in advance that the best time to frolic with gentle giants is in January and February. By April most of the 400+ endangered species swim out into the deep ocean. Still, we searched every crevice of the Three Sisters Lagoon, a sheltered oasis that attracts up to 200 manatees when the air temperature plummets in the winter. Unfortunately the only thing stirring were a few small crabs and tropical sun fish pooling the bottom.

Mary and Tracie of Citrus County VCB (Visitors Convention Bureau) make a great team for showing off their boating and swimming prowess. They were our escorts for a half-day submersion into the wild. They both share countless hours interacting with manatee and navigating the narrow channels and canals of Homosassa. Tomorrow, they're taking us canoeing and/or kyaking through the Chassahowitzka National Wildlife Refuge followed by a helicopter ride around the tidal bays, creeks and rivers.

A Fisherman's Paradise

If your thinking about spending time in Citrus County, Florida, don't forget to bring your rod and reel. Abundant fish and shell life thrive in the coastal estuaries of Homosassa River. Thirty-four varieties including the redfish, tarpon, sheepshead, snapper, trout and snook live in the natural spring waters of Florida's upper West Coast Gulf. This is a fisherman's paradise and it's a rite of passage to know how to bait a hook and cast a line.

Mary Craven, Manager of Citrus County Visitors & Conventions Bureau, lead us on an educational journey through Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park today. Besides fish, the rehabilitation center cares for injured and orphaned animals like manatee, rhino, alligators, black bear, bobcat, flamingos, otters and cougars. Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse have nothing on this place - wildlife and family excitement reign king here.

"This is one of Florida's best kept secrets" admits Gale Oakes, owner of the Riverside Crab House and riverside resort. She charters a pontoon party barge while sharing her vast knowledge of scalloping and netting hard shelled blue crabs. The sun parches my scalp and nose but the footage I gather and insight gleened is priceless. The boat lumbers around the fragile ecosystem traveling at no more than 15 miles an hour to avoid hurting a manatee. Monkey Island (aptly named for its inhabitants) squawks with delight as the mischievous primates capture our attention. Restored mansions and shabby run-down gazebos popular thanks to Homor Winslow and Grover Cleveland add historical flavor to the brackish marsh. I'm enjoying every soulful moment of this trip and my family couldn't be more thankful for this opportunity.

Making Friends with the Manatee

A whole mess of worldclass activities are taking place this weekend in Tampa: the Honda Grand Prix Indy races, a Seafood Festival in DeSoto and one of largest air shows in the Department of Defense - the Blue Angles aerobatic demonstration team performing at the MacDill airforce base. Despite all that, my mind is on the crystal clear coastline and catching sight of a 2000 pound manatee.

I'm in Homosassa Crystal River, the only place in the United States where people may legally swim with and touch manatees that live in the constant 72-degree spring waters. Manatees are large, gentle aquatic mammals also know as sea cows or dugongs. They have round faces, small peanut-size brown eyes, and tails thought to have inspired the idea of mermaids existing in the West Atlantic waters. Like an elephant, manatees have tusks, whiskers and a long nose, similar to a trunk. They are charming and docile creatures that dine on seagrass beds and freshwater or marine vegetation. But between pollution and habitat destruction the species is in danger of becoming extinct. Also, careless boaters that disregard speed limits often collide with manatees physically injuring and sometimes killing the creature.

In a few days, my family and I will be donning wetsuits, flippers and masks and making our way into the deep to catch a glimpse of a manatee. It's a thrill we've waited several years for. In a roped-off area of the canal, we'll be able to reach out and touch the manatee and learn more about its fragility. I'll be toting along my camera and expecting fabulous photography. More to come as soon as I return in a few days.