Currently the magazine is offered as a download (Apple iOs and Google Android versions are also available) to be readable on almost any device. I found the layout to be pleasant but at times was a bit full on my laptop screen. By full I mean there are a lot of informational sidebars that help take the reader in other directions (all with handy links to internet pages for further exploration, something that is useful and a benefit to reading in this format). The sidebars can sometimes shrink down the text space and make it a bit disjointed.

That honestly is my biggest beef with the magazine. It is rich in photos to help bring the stories to life and most are sourced by the traveler writers themselves, which helps add authenticity to their words. I enjoyed the quantity and variety of stories and the graphics used. Some of the articles could use a bit of polish but this is a new endeavor; you wouldn’t go back to the first few episodes of the Simpsons and expect the shine the cartoon has today. Likewise, I really enjoyed this first issue and look forward to more of what Nellie has to offer.

For those in the travel writing industry, you will recognize a number of the authors contributing to this first edition: Nellie herself, Abigail King, Lola Akinmade Åkerström and Candace Rose Rardon, to name a few. There is also a great section up front of reader pictures, sourced from far-flung locations and gorgeous imagery. I think this front section does a great job of pulling readers in with full size images rich in color and interesting subjects with a blurb by the photographer to help you learn more.

If you are interested in purchasing a copy of the magazine for download (about 22MB), it is just $2.95USD per issue and annual subscriptions are available.  Click here for your own copy.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

1. Stay In The Airport

Ha! Are you kidding me? Have you been to LAX? Every little area is kept separate from every other little area. They have about a thousand security check points and no connection between them. Or so it seems. I could stay in the terminal for 21 hours and stare at this.

That’s right, Starbucks. They have plenty of those. I have no fear of running out of pumpkin walnut bread or $3 bottles of water. By the way, I was making for that small exit sign. And credit to Alaska Airlines for getting me a seat on a different flight the next day before I made it out of the airport. Getting stuck in Seattle would not be so bad because it is a nice airport. But LAX? No thank you.

2. Exchange Some Money

I thought of doing this in the airport. After all, other countries’ money is so much cooler than the USA greenback. Check out some examples here.

3. Watch The Bicycle Cop Give Out Parking Tickets

I actually did this, which is why it makes it on the list.  I also got to watch him threaten someone who pulled up with no one else in the car, to the point of pulling out his pad and acting like he was writing.

4. Sit In Traffic

It’s an LA past-time and I would not want to miss out on this spectacle. Unless I have the chance to miss out on this spectacle.

5. Look For Mastodon Jaw Bones

While on a press trip last summer in Snowmass, Colorado I had the geekylicious experience of handling a 100,000 year old mastodon jaw bone within hours of it being unearthed nearby. It looked like this and was awesome (read more over at Vagabond3’s site) .

So you can imagine my surprise when I saw THIS sitting by the curb at LAX.

But alas, one kick of my boot confirmed it was NOT a mastodon jawbone accidently left in the street for me to discover. Just a chunk of rubber which hopefully did not just fall off of a plane. Sigh.

6. Get Sunburnt

Waiting for a ride away from the airport, the sun was hot. And beating. Beating hot. At least 75F in the sun. Hot enough to burn my sorry Seattle-white skin. I fear it.

7. Steal An Electric Vehicle

Believe me, I thought of it. And a ladder too? Hell yeah.

8. Stop By A Coffee Bean And Tea Leaf

Evidently this place is something of an institution down here. I also ate at In-N-Out Burger just to cover my bases.

9. Go To The Beach

Seriously. It’s California and it’s winter, which means you might want to wear a jacket, but you’ll still see plenty of people in shorts and flip flops. While Seattle freezes under a sheet of ice, the beach sounds like a great idea.

10. Shoot A Bitchin’ Time-lapse Film Of The Sun Setting

11. BONUS THINGS TO DO!

My friend Melanie of the fabled website Travels With Two has a whole passel of other ideas both in the LAX airport and nearby, if you still need ideas that don’t involve theft.

There you have it. Never be bored in LA during a flight cancelation ever again, if you print out this post and keep it with you (LAX has no free wifi, so kill some trees and print everything out that you want to read). There are at least 10 things to do in this city and I plan to do them all. Except the sunburnt one.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

When I was growing up there was no Museum of Flight. It came into existence on the South side of Seattle after my passion of flight was already sparked, but before I found out I get rather ill inside small aircraft I am not jumping out of (by the way, the instructors at Gavin Flying at Boeing Field are top-notch and never complained about having to clean up their Cessna 152 after I, uh, redecorated the cockpit somewhere over Puget Sound. I still want to thank my instructor for his patience while I figured out flying a plane was not for me, commercially speaking).

The Museum of Flight at Boeing Field has grown over the years to be awesome. It’s huge! When my brother, a member of the museum, offered to take my daughter and I to the museum (you get free passes for guests as a member) on a rainy Winter day, I was excited to share the experience and to see what was new since my last visit 20 years ago.

First of all, if you have kids, go see the museum. Kids over five or so will enjoy their time. The specific kid area isn’t that large, but does have some fun exhibits for them to play with while actually learning things (just don’t tell them they are learning). Scaled down wind tunnels and the chance to move a plane as in a video game will get them excited.

And then there is the main hall. Zowie! It’s big and FULL of planes. Hanging from the ceiling, on the ground, some cut in half so you can see how they work. One of the nation’s old spy planes, an SR-71 Blackbird, takes center stage surrounded by a classic DC-3 and a reproduction of the Wright Brother’s flyer. Helicopters, fighter planes from many eras, mail planes, gliders. And then there is the space section with lunar rovers, space capsules and a mock up of a section of the International Space Station. Outside you can tour an older Air Force One that presidents used to call home while traveling. And a Concorde.

Ohhhh!!! And in the future, they will have an actual Space Shuttle Trainer in one hanger. A frickin’ real sized space shuttle! Too cool.

For adults, there is also a large history wing that chronicles Boeing’s rise as an aircraft giant. And a cafeteria. And a whole other area that I didn’t cover on this trip! There’s seriously a whole day of exploring at the Museum.

More Info:

• Hours and directions
• Cost ain’t super cheap, but I felt it would be worth it once a year for most people. $17 for adults and $9 for kids. Discounts given.
• They have a number of simulators I’d love to try next time.
• Perfect for rainy winter days.
• Special events abound. Check their schedule.
• They also offer learning opportunities at the museum and in the area.
• If your kid is around age five, or really into airplanes, they will get the most enjoyment from time at the museum. Younger kids might get bored before parents feel they have got their money’s worth.

Seriously, it is a fun place and a bit like a playground. There is a lot to learn or you can simply gawk and the massive amount of aircraft on display.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

How I got here was innocent enough. I was ignorant and trusting, two things that can doom a traveler to the most abrupt of foreign experiences, as well as bring them unexpected joy and beauty. Beauty was not in the cards during my visit to this Turkish bath, or hammam, frequented mostly by local Moroccans. Perhaps you have seen a picture of a hammam? One that looks like this?

That is not where I ended up. That is the hammam in the Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca. That’s a royal hammam. I, instead, visited an every-day hammam. Think of it as a YMCA type of gym as compared to the one professional football players enjoy for their workout. From my riad I was guided by a man who spoke no English (and my Arabic vocabulary is no better) to a side alley covered in dirt and broken cobblestones likely laid down about the time the Pilgrims were arriving in The New World. He dropped me off at the counter behind a battered wooden door and walked away.

I glanced around me and noted people getting undressed. Thankfully the clerk at our riad had mentioned I would keep my underwear on so I was slightly prepared. This was the only hint I had as to what would happen during my stay. I handed over 30 durhams to a blank stare behind the counter and was given a bucket in exchange. I then proceeded to undress in the small changing area which doubled as the foyer. Glancing side to side, there was a mix of ages and body types. Few people talked and most ignored me, which started warming me to the experience. When I was ready, the blank stare came out from behind his shelter and led me through three rooms, each one hotter and steamier than the one before.

White tiles covered each room’s surface, maybe 20′ on a side with low ceilings. Clanks of buckets, the splash of water and a total absence of human voice echoed through the space. I was lead past the bear who would give me my scrub-down as he was finishing with two men, both laying splayed out, arms at their sides, chests to tile floor and their heads turned to their left. He lifted his scruffy beard and swollen eyes long enough to acknowledge I was another body to be abused and went back to work, with no show of emotion. It was as if I was another wood cabinet, brought to a carpenter to have its thin varnish covering removed. Another day in the steamy, sweaty office.

Laying face down eight feet from the bear in my off-white organic cotton boxer briefs against the sweltering tiles, heated from beneath it seemed, I took advantage of my position and turned my head to see what was in store. What I saw were two bags of meat being roughed up my a man twice their size. Neither man complained and I saw no pain on their face when they turned toward me. The bear took them one by one around a corner to a spot I could not see. A splash ensued and then another. Eventually a man who used to be a bag of meat on the ground emerged, wiping his face, holding his bucket and shuffling to a corner of another room, out of my site. This amount of information was not enlightening.

After the second man from the ground emerged from around the corner, the bear set his good eye on me and tapped my shoulder, walking back to his main ‘office’ in the middle of the fluorescently lit room. He nodded his head and I laid down again on my belly, as I had been. With one paw, he rolled me over and put on a mitt. Starting with my arm, he placed a mitt on his other hand and began his day’s work. His day’s work evidently consisted of helping me get to a point where I felt like yelling, “Damn it! A bit lighter, please!? I want some skin left.” But I bit my tongue, not wanting to look the wimpy foreigner.

Scrub. Pull an appendage. Scrub. Twist an appendage.

No way out but to lay limp on the slick tile. The feeling of broken glass was taken over my entire body except for, well, there. God. I’m thankful those scrubbing paws left that one area alone. But they did exfoliate my buttocks and every inch of exposed flesh. With the mitts off, the bear attacked my scalp and it felt as if a demented weasel and a rabid bobcat were at war in my hair. Mixed in, somehow, was a fair amount of soap from a mysterious yellowed plastic bottle with the label long gone. Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t be requesting ‘volumizing’ shampoo at this establishment. It wasn’t one of the five words of Arabic I knew.

Two slaps on the back as my tormenter rose was the signal for my turn around the unknown corner. In this room were two troughs of clear water, about three feet high and eight feet long, coming out from the wall for another three feet. Would I be dunked in? Was it a ‘bath’ as I knew it? In went my bucket clasped by the bear’s talons. On went a smile to the bear’s face. His one and only emotion shown the entire time I knew him. He nodded his head down as a suggestion and I bent my head slightly before feeling the iced pins of cold water poured over my entire body. In a comical moment, I gasped out loud as if acting a line from a slapstick movie script. I’m sure my eyes bulged and the bucket went back in for another fill. Stifling the urge to bolt out of the room, I accepted another drenching and the bear’s smile began to fade. I’m glad I gave him one moment of joy in what is obviously a hard and thankless job.

Our time together done, the bear handed me my bucket and lifted his head to the first of the doors that would lead me away from the sweat and steam and ice and broken glass of my first experience at a Turkish bath.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

First let me say that Tamron supplied me with this lens for my Canon camera to runs some tests and write about my experience. They gave me no guidance and my words and thoughts are my own. If it sucks, I’ll tell you (and likely Tamron will never send me another lens, but that’s life and I’m ok with it).

This lens doesn’t suck. It’s also not a professional lens and likely will not be a lens I use often as I have professional Canon lenses for my work photos.

That being said, I believe this lens has a market that might fit many of you reading this. It has a price point of $600 (that’s an Amazon link with a $100 rebate until the end of the year, available at most any retailer) and that fits many budgets when considering this lens takes the place of potentially two or three. It’s also a great travel lens as it is small and has a large zoom.

What do all those abbreviations mean?  Di is a type of lens specially built for smaller sensor cameras (known as ‘cropped’ as compared to ‘full frame’. It’s likely you have one of these cameras.). II means this is the second generation of this lens. VC stands for Vibration Compensation and helps stabilize the lens especially when zoomed all the way out. It helps make pictures clearer. PZD is the Piezo Drive technology used for the focus setup, which helps keep the lens quieter and faster than the standard models. Last, AF is good old Auto Focus.

While the lens isn’t perfect, it performed like a champ over six weeks in Asia through three countries and then another two weeks in Peru. This was not a long term trial but it did give me a variety of shooting situations and different lighting to test out the lens. I will have a full review of the lens on Digital Photography School in a week or two, but let me give you some highlights:

• The small compact size was helpful in not standing out as a pro and gathering too much attention. The lens is discreet for the amount of zoom if embodies.
• The lens is light and easy to carry on long days.
• Focus is decent and it has a lock switch so the lens doesn’t drop down when transported.
• Images, I felt, were great. Again, it’s not a $2000 lens, it’s $600, which is a price point where you should start getting quality optics. This lens delivers in that context.
• The huge range is great in the field if you only want one lens on a trip.

As I will be giving a full review later on, let me leave you with some images taken with the camera while on the Asia leg of the trip.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

First Impression: LowePro Pro Roller Attaché 50 from Peter West Carey on Vimeo.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

I know, not as sexy as if I put my sexy self into them. Sorry. But this isn’t about sexy me, it’s about comfort while traveling.

You see, I bought my first two pairs of these beauties back in June just before heading to Costa Rica and Colorado for a few weeks. I was not happy with the Patagonia version I owned as two out of three pair gave me wedgies and two pair also developed premature holes where there should not be any.  So I invested $25/pair in these Exoficio Give-N-Go Boxer Briefs with the vague hope that plopping down $50 on underwear was not in vain.

From the moment I started wearing them, I was happy in my choice. They fit well and have never wedgied. Never. They are quick dry material, making them ideal for travel (it takes about 2 hours to line dry them out of the sun after wringing out the water) and the boxer brief cut that I prefer helps them double for swim trunks. Wait a minute! I DO have a beefcake shot of me in these shorts under a cold waterfall in Costa Rica. Here you go —->

I guess it was about sexy me after all. But only to prove a point! That these underwear are awesome, functional, sexy and stylish. My plan is to go with blue next as I already have green and black. Three pair are all I need for most of my travel because they wash out so quickly. And they are almost like second skin in a weird way.

No, Exoficio does not sponsor me and at this point, I really don’t need the help as I will soon have my triumvirate of travel underwear ready for my next trip to Nepal.

If you’re looking for a pair of these stylish bad boys, then I’d highly suggest Amazon.com for a deep discount over the standard $25 price. And also because I have an affiliate link all ready for you.

PS, Go for the “Buy New” option.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

First Impressions – LowePro Photo Sport 200 from Peter West Carey on Vimeo.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

Flail, paddle, flail, paddle. Breathe. And POP! Out of the first wave on the Roaring Fork river in Colorado the group, now wide-eyed and adrenalin riddled, let out bottled up excitement in the form of laughter and exclamations of joy to not being thrown overboard while spinning aimlessly in the wave.

I have the pleasure of being in that raft with Mike as we take a morning trip with Blazing Adventures (who rafts under the company name ‘Blazing Paddles’) down the Roaring Fork River as it carves the Rocky Mountains before meeting up with the mighty Colorado. Located just outside the village of Snowmass, our put-in is a quick introduction to the ferocity of rivers all over the West which have been bolstered by a solid winter of gracious snowfall.

While the river is flowing faster than normal, making our anticipated two hour trip closer to a 90 minute endeavor, we were treated to many impressive waves bulked up by the increasing temperatures of a looming summer sun. It’s true we can’t raft the vaunted Slaughterhouse Rapid due to safety concerns, a nice reminder that Blazing Adventures values living customers over the chance to practice river rescues. Even without the largest challenge on this stretch of the river, our day is non-stop action.

I have been rafting as a client in various states and countries over the last two decades. I don’t know it all, but I do know that our day on the Roaring Fork is as good of an ambassador of Colorado’s whitewater potential as I can ask for. While the larger Colorado often overshadows the ‘lesser’ rivers in the state, and while this river would not be on my list of solo reasons to fly all the way to Aspen and Snowmass, it is an unexpected highlight to my trip, sponsored by Colorado State Tourism.

First, the river is a refreshing escape from the valley’s hot days during summer. The water comes from the surrounding hills and was snow only half a day before meeting us at our put-in. That means it, and the air around, is cooler. Thankfully cooler because standing around in a wetsuit in the Colorado sun will bake you alive.

Second, the river is non-stop, as I mentioned before. I have been on many Class III+ rivers and they are a lot of good, wholesome fun. But they often have long stretches of, for lack of a better term, boredom. River guides are well versed in jokes and yarns to spin while plying the slow waters but Mike only had to fill about 10 minutes of ‘down time’ on the Roaring Fork. That’s 80 minutes of “watch where you’re going or you’ll get doused with a wave” action.

It’s 12 miles of wearing a stupid grin on my face as I eat wave after wave. Loving every minute, even through chattering teeth.

Lastly, the guides and staff are bona fide nutcases. The good kind of nutcases. The kind of nutcases you want as your guides because they do care about your safety, but they are also very interested in having a good time. And for them, that means loving what they do. They have to, because they will be heading down the same river later that day. And the next. And the next.

While we are a press trip, which often makes people treat us a bit more special, I can tell that Mike and Talbot, our other guide, really didn’t care. Not beyond their normal amount of care for those in their charge, who have entrusted them to deliver smiling customers to the take-out. They aren’t out to impress us and they are a lot of fun with entertaining knowledge of the river (most of it likely BS, but that’s a river guide’s job). They are rafting because they love it and don’t seem to care if we are the village idiot or kings and queens; they are going to show us a good time as a guest on their river and in their state of Colorado.

Blazing Adventures delivered what I want from a rafting trip:

• Fun, knowledgeable and safety conscious guides
• Convenient pick up from hotel
• Wetsuits and jackets in good condition
• Stories, jokes and river history
• A rafting guide with a Hollywood name that seemed made up
• A huge grin when I was done

Blazing Adventures is a company I will gladly raft with again when I return to the Roaring Fork Valley. Just like crack cocaine, handing out that free sample for a press trip was enough to get me hooked and I will gladly fork over whatever I need to get another taste of Colorado whitewater.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.

The wood is new, a local fir with a light stain. Maybe four years old at most. It feels cool under your bare feet as summer has not arrived.

The deck rail comes up to your waist and makes for easy slouching to enjoy the view. It’s made of the same wood, flecked with fir needles. Just below the railing, fifteen feet ahead and six feet down, is where the view starts.

It’s a cascading creek pooling after a plunge under the eight foot long wooden bridge you crossed to get to the deck. After the pool, moving to your left, it drops another thirty feet over green-slick rocks, through ferns and nettles and finally empties into Doe Bay. The sound of moving water is all that fills your ears. The world’s best white noise.

Doe Bay is narrow from where you stand. Maybe one hundred and fifty feet across. You see where it opens into a larger body of water beyond a tree-covered point, but here, the shore, things are more confined and placid. Only the cascading water causes ripples today as the creek tries to push back the tide over a rock-strewn beach. It will be a sandy beach if you can wait a few hundred years.

A smell of chlorine reaches over your shoulder and you turn away from the beach, bay and creek to face three pools. Each pool is five feet on a side and set into a bench just below your chest. Stairs to the right of these pool lead you to another deck, commanding a greater view back to the bay with the three pools in front of you, at your feet, flush with the deck.

The pools are a bit like the Three Little Bears, as you dip a foot in the first, to your left, and find it’s a too cold. Moving to the far right, the only pool with jets bubbling the water into a swirl within the square. You can’t see the bottom and a toe tells you it’s too hot. The center pool, your last refuge, delivers as the nursery rhyme promises: Just Right.

The view from here is above the railing below, straight out into the bay. Calm.

You drop your towel next to the middle pool and take hold of the metal railing that leads below the surface of Just Right water.

You are alone. You, three pools and the bay.

Oh, and you’re naked.

—————–

Doe Bay Resort, tucked away in a small dent on Orcas Island in the San Juan archipelago of Washington State, is not known a world famous nudest beach, because it’s not. When I first heard of the area it was as lore, hearsay. A mystic land, inside Washington state, where existed miles of nude bodies. Lore made me think that was reality.

It turns out hearsay is just that, untrue. What is true is Doe Bay Resort, an assortment of houses, cabins and a hostel for rent, all with beach front access to the sea, does have a clothing-optional policy for the soaking tubs and attached sauna. And that’s where lore and reality meet. They are hidden from the rest of the resort, down a path, a gate, some steps and across the creek.

Somehow lore blew things out of proportion as lore can. Reality is often much more mundane.

But that’s no reason not to enjoy the tub you were about to slip into.

©2012 The Carey Adventures. All Rights Reserved.