Lyell AScent to Donahue Pass One of this man's greatest memories.... there are things in life that seem unimportant at the time, which have the possibility of being the highlight of a lifetime. Such was the hike that I took with my two boys, Joe and Gabe... I love you guys so much dad Joe, don't ever forget who beat you to Agnew Meadows.... BWaaaaaaaaaaaaa [View Full Entry]

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Here it is, after midnight, while the rest of the world slumbers (at least around me) I sit up, busy parking memories. Circa, mid fifties. The Buick was the classic black and white. We'd load it to the hilt, and off we'd go for our annual camping trip. Trust me. I knew where the middle of the seat was. Because if my sister's elbow or knee or God forbid her foot crossed that line, there's be a cat fight in the back seat. To a skinny nose picking toe headed kid, we were headed to the North Pole Mountains. I [View Full Entry]

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If you need confirmation as to what train will get you where you want to go, don't have any illusion that you are safe asking a conductor. After asking one, I confidently settled down for the journey. I was on my way to Toulouse, at least that is what I thought. No doubt I made good joke fodder that night for the conductor and his drinking buds. He gave me the nod in the opposite direction somewhere in Massif Central. It was late at night so I decided to quit fighting it for the day, epecially since I was told there [View Full Entry]

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It was hot as blue blazes and standing room only throughout Rome. Wouldn't you know it I arrived right on a holiday. I needed a break from the maddening crowd. I approached an old cathedral and saw hoards of people pouring out of a doorway giving it little or no thought that it was the entrance as well as the exit. Without exception all the people leaving the cathedral were elderly people, mostly women. I edged my way against the crowd, joking, knowing that not a single person understood what I said: 'Hey, did I miss the party!??' Ha ha (yeah.) [View Full Entry]

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It was my last night in Central France. The next day I was heading to Paris, and then flying home. It was time to SPLURGE! I size up a nice restaurant. Probably in a building over 1,000 years old. Really picturesque. I read the menu outside. Hmmm... Cunard. It's time for DUCK. Yes, I envision a nice roast duck, potatos, garnishes, the works. In the heartland of France, none the less!! This will be great. I am seated at a table, and order the Cunard. It's ok that it will cost me €50. I deserve this, haven't had a real 'sit [View Full Entry]

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... and there's no one around to read it, does the writer of the blog give a rip? [img=http://www.forestserviceni.gov.uk/our_forests/forests/east%20district/images/belvoir/belvoir_1.jpg] [View Full Entry]

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Was a 'day tripper' to Montpellier from Sete. I recall that I bought some grub at a deli in Sete and headed to the train station. There sat 'Bongo (can't remember what else I called him)' from the youth hostel sitting there with his bongo drum. He was not fullblooded anything... although he said he was born in France. Spoke decent English, actually. I shared my lunch with him, he was very grateful. I showed him I know a thing or two about bongo drums. Anyone who was in or aroun [View Full Entry]

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My Irish claim to fame, my great grandfather was Michael Augustus Ward (Mac an Bhaird) from Donegal. My grandmother (Ellen Ward) full blooded Irish. Michael Ward (Bhaird or 'bard') married Mary Moran, daughter of Martin Moran (married Ellen Rogers), immigrant to Genesee, Pa (Potter County) in 1840 (before the potato famine. Genesee ended up an Irish haven. Martin was one of the leading citizens. He immigrated from Mayo County. Michael Ward was very young when he immigrated fro [View Full Entry]

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Whaddya know, a site about barefoot travel. Don't know how I found this site, but I did... and it brought back memories. Here's what happened: 1967. I had just hitchhiked up to San Francisco from the Central San Joaquin valley town of Fresno. I was wearin' a brand new pair of work boots. I was walkin' down Haight Street. A guy passed me wearin' an old pair of groooovy cowboy boots with pointed toes. I admired his boots, and he admired mine. So we TRADED. Yup. I was 17, he was..... much older. As he walked away with my niiice new [View Full Entry]

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A few of my best memories (jotted down before I lose my marbles) ....sitting on the embankment next to the Arno River in Florence, right next to the Ponte Vecchio, watching one of the hundreds of motor scooter riders buz into a place to park a little Vespa. The rider dismounted her scooter, removed her helmet, let down her hair... and as she joined the throng on the street, immediately she was transformed from a faceless rider to a descendant of Venus. no kidding... truly unforgettable. Second fondest memory was spending the morning with Michelangelo's Florentine Pieta... unforgettable, [View Full Entry]

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