A virtual tourist

Every year, when the days get longer and I get some time on my hands, I start thinking about travel. I pull out some of the writings of Paul Theroux or Bill Bryson, I read travel blogs and watch videos (like this one created by travel blogger Matt Harding), and I dream about some of the places I'd like to see.


So it's not a stretch for me to imagine that there are 1,000 places to see in a lifetime. Places on my list?


Cape Vidal, South Africa



Blue Hole Reef, Belize


Riding in a hot-air balloon over Kenya's Masai Mara game reserve



Moeraki Boulders, New Zealand



Death Valley, California—We spent the night while passing through,but I'd love to spend more time there.


Many of these places are far off the beaten path (read expensive), so for now I'll have to content myself with being a virtual tourist. Bring on Bing.com.

Back to Africa

TIA—This Is Africa. This acronym became our daily mantra during the two weeks that I visited my parents, who were living in Uganda at the time. We used it as a way to put words to the differences we felt while there—everything from the muddy back roads and traffic to the differences in notions of time and schedules. There's something magical about Africa that makes it hard to put into words. The best part: the people. We met so many Godly people during our stay. Peace. Janet. Richard. Robert. Beyondo. Needless to say, I have missed it. So when we had the chance to see The Lion King in Las Vegas this summer, I put the soundtrack of the musical on stereo. While listening, images flashed through my mind. A woman walking on the side of the road, her child bundled on her back, balancing a load on her head. Raised eyebrows and a smile. Birds flitting around, finally landing on Dad's outstretched finger. In a sense, you could say I went back to Africa this summer. If only for two and a half hours.

In the desert

"Crayons. We probably need some."

"You think the boys will want to color?" my mom asked, confused by my bizarre request.

We were in a Walmart Supercenter in Pahrump, Nevada, buying coolers to fill with ice and water for the long trip into Death Valley. We weren't taking any chances with the heat situation; after all, we would be spending the night in a place ominously named Furnace Creek.

It was just a joke, really, my request for crayons, stemming from a conversation with a friend. She told me of a family stranded in Death Valley who survived on them. My mom didn't think it was that funny. In fact, she had had some reservations about even driving through the desert. She saw some of the place names, such as Funeral Mountains, as worrisome.

Death Valley gets its name from a weary traveler during the California Gold Rush. Several groups of 49'ers left the Spanish Trail in an attempt to find a shortcut. What resulted was months of wandering through the desert, surrounded by impassable mountains. Finally they had to leave their wagons and walk out of the valley, which is 282 feet below sea-level. Lore has it that as they left, one of the men turned around and called, "Goodbye, Death Valley."

Eventually, my mom agreed to this leg of the trip, so there we were stocking up on supplies to make the journey easier. We could feel our ears popping as we drove on into the valley, feeling none of the 124 degree heat just outside the windows of our air-conditioned, Chrysler Town and Country rental van.

The harsh terrain wasn't surprising--what did surprise me was the number of people who, like us, had felt the call of the desert. There was never an abandoned stretch of road--we always encountered cars on our drive. We only had the illusion of being by ourselves as we looked into the endless fields of sand and sage.

I don't know what it is about the desert that fascinates me. I'm impressed with the hardy people who make it their home; Death Valley has a thriving little community there. It reminds me of the resilience of the human spirit. It reminds me of how grateful I am to live in a place of abundant water. And it reminds me of a Savior who provides Living Water.

After spending the night in the desert, we were ready to leave it. Climbing out of the valley, we saw an old, abandoned Ford truck. It only took a second for Will to chime, "They must have had to eat crayons."

The road already traveled

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“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” - Bill Bryson

Tomorrow I'll be in an SUV traveling for the first time through Death Valley. Only it will seem like I've been there before. Thanks to Google maps, you can literally see the road before you drive it. It's like a virtual road trip, only I'm not sure how I feel about that.

For me, traveling is about experiencing the unexpected. A time when life can be unscripted, spontaneous. It takes away the adventure to preview the maps, travel guides, traveler comments, and virtual pictures of the roads. I know that this isn't the case for many, including my husband. He loves to research the places we're going, and I know our trip will be richer because of that. So while Darrell is poring over the maps and information on Trip Advisor.com, I'll remain blissfully unaware, ready to see each new place for the first time.



"Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.” - Jack Kerouac

Ten more days. . .

Will and Darrell on the plane.



First trip to Yosemite--Will is in the backpack.

The countdown begins...ten days until we return to Yosemite. Ten days until we can hike to Cathedral Lake, the world's most beautiful church. Ten days until we ride bikes along the valley floor.

Our first and only trip to Yosemite was nine years ago, when Will still fit into our backpack. Those were good times--we stayed in the canvas tent cabins, laughing in the middle of the night at the sound of nearby snorers, and the other campers who tried to wake the snorers up. Eating heaping plates of pasta because we were usually starving after the day hikes. Watching the Ugly American, who happened to be in the canvas tent next to ours, as he changed the diaper of his baby girl, dipping her tiny bottom in the icy waters of the Merced River. Listening to the arc of urine fall as he peed right outside his tent. [Only a few feet separated each tent cabin.] Walking Will around in the middle of the night because he was restless, couldn't sleep, all the while ignoring the warnings from park rangers that a bear had been spotted nearby.

Hiking should be much easier this time--no baby in backpack. And the one hike they recommend that you should do before you die is Half Dome. Part of the hike includes cables up the mountainside, those with fear of heights need not apply. Just browsing through the pictures at yosemitevacation.com makes me nervous. But the pictures are submitted by people of all ages who have conquered Half Dome. [One of my favorites is of a man getting a 62nd birthday hug.]Along with the pictures, they offer words of advice for the journey. Apparently, you should start early in the morning to avoid possible afternoon thunderstorms. People have died from lightning strikes there. There's even a list of 27 essentials to take on the 17-mile round trip hike. Toilet paper makes the list because there are only three pit stops on the hike, and it takes you anywhere from 10-12 hours to hike it. The cables at some points are at a 45° angle, so you would basically pulling yourself up the side of the mountain. And in spite of all this information, I'm still interested. I may be half crazy, but I want to hike Half Dome.


Submitted to yosemitevacation.com by: T. Lange


Submitted to yosemitevacation.com by: P. Horylev


Submitted to yosemitevacation.com by: T. Beuse


Submitted to yosemitevacation.com by: D. Massengale