The castle has a rich history, dating back to William the Conqueror’s improvements on a pre-existing Anglo Saxon fortification in 1066. King Henry II continued to expand the grounds in the late 12th century when he rebuilt the fortifications that would protect England from sea invaders. The castle boasts unique concentric battlements and one of the largest surviving Keeps in all of England. A complex maze of tunnels were dug underneath the castle during the Middle Ages which were expanded during the Napoleonic Wars in the 19th century to house dozens of battalions brought in to defend England from French invasion. During World War II, these tunnels were again expanded to include a field hospital and to house the command center for the Dunkirk invasion. The tunnels are starkly mid-century compared to the rest of the castle which distinguish it from other castles in England. Recently, the Great Tower, originally constructed in the 1180s by King Henry II, has been reconstructed as it was when first built. The rooms have been restored to provide an exciting look at the king’s court during this time.

We left the castle in the early evening heading toward the famous White Cliffs, just in time to drive to watch the sun drop slowly behind the battlements. We reached the National Trust area just as the guard was closing the gate. In a rushed questioning of where else we could go to see the cliffs, he kindly pointed us down the road to where all the locals go, an abandoned coast guard outlook at the end of the dirt path. The outcropping was deserted and as promised, the sun gleamed off the water, dazzling us with light shining against the chalky cliffs. We could hear the waves crashing down below as the wind whipped around us. There was no better place to be.

Dover Castle is located in Dover, Kent, approximately 2 hours drive southeast from central London. The site is accessible by train and bus as well. The castle and grounds are open year round, opening at 10am and closing at 6pm in high season, 4pm in winter. Tickets are $21 (£13.40) for adults and $11 (£6.70) for children. Guided tours of the wartime tunnels are provided free of charge but with a timed ticket system. The last tour departs one hour before closing.

I sat on the floor in the bedroom my grandmother had spent the last few years sleeping in. It was known as “the pool room” for it housed the pool table, games, and television we grandchildren used to get away from the adults. Since having trouble with her heart, my grandmother had moved into the pool room so she could sleep peacefully away from my snoring grandfather. Usually, this room was filled with laughter, teasing, talking that grew increasingly louder over the crash of sticks and balls and sports on TV. But not today.

My grandmother died on March 13 after a brief illness. She was 84. As I sat in her bedroom, sorting through old photographs to use for a slide show at her memorial service, I came across letters. Piles of letters she had written to friends and family over the years, some sad, some sweet and full of her practical advice about how to just get on with life. Near the bottom of the piles of photos, there were loose sheets of hotel stationary, filled with her travel reflections as they enjoyed retirement and the various travels around the world. Mexico City in 1970. Australia and New Zealand in 1988. Europe in 1985 with 3 of her closest girlfriends. Hawaii for their friends’ 25th wedding anniversary in the 1960s. Sweden. England. A car trip across the United States in a station wagon in the early 1980s. Bus trips with their friends from church. Niagara Falls. Amish country. Croatia and Slovenia when she was 80.   She reveled in sharing her excitement about where they had been, bringing home gifts for family and friends and regaling us with tales of innkeepers, tour guides, sights, sounds and the glories of the natural world.  Her favorite piece of jewelry was a silver gum tree ring she’d purchased in Australia.  She said it always reminded her of that trip and one of the most breath-taking sights she’d ever been to, the Great Barrier Reef.

I sat for hours reading, hearing her voice so clearly in my head, enjoying her  lifetime of travels,  a traveler’s dream come true.  A legacy of wandering, exploring, searching out the unseen, savoring the new, recorded in her words, tucked away to be found by the one who followed in her curious footsteps. What more could a granddaughter ask for?

We arrived shortly before check-in but gracious as ever, the innkeeper said our room was ready.  The wind off the ocean was blustery, the rain steady, the reception room of the inn a perfect place to dry off and nibble homemade goodies left out on the antique sidebar in the dining room.   Our room in the carriage house provided gorgeous views of the rough seas, churned by wind and rain.  I was glad for the spacious windows and comfortable chairs to watch the rain and protect us from the cold.

The late afternoon wine and cheese hour in the main house of the inn helped fight off the chill of a walk down the ocean front.  We sipped a delightful local red wine and munched on crackers, brie and a divine chocolate bundt cake.  After a fabulous dinner on the wharf, we retired for the night.  The rain continued to fall, a bit more gently after the sunset. 

The gas fireplace in our room provided all the light we needed.  It was so peaceful and quiet, there was no need to even open the armoire that hid the TV.  My husband suggested a soak in the jacuzzi tub in the ensuite bathroom and we luxuriated in warm water scented with bath salts for nearly an hour.  By the time we crawled into our turned down bed, I’d forgotten the dreadful weather outside, the stress of a long work week, and slept the deep sleep of a woman without a care in the world.

 The Green Gables Inn is located at: 301 Ocean View Blvd, Pacific Grove, CA 93950.  Toll-Free: 800-722-1774; Phone: 831-375-2095
Fax: 831-375-5437 .  Email for availability and rates: greengablesinn@foursisters.com.

The unexpected beauty of Hecker Pass provided a delightful addendum to a weekend jaunt to the coast.  The award winning Fortino Winery offers their 2005 Carignan and several other choice offerings at their tasting room Tuesdays through Saturdays, 10am-5pm and Sundays, 11am-5pm.  Stop in and enjoy the family friendly atmosphere and expertise of local vinters Gino and Teri Fortino, who have been in the wine industry since 1970.

Established in 1989, Solis Winery continues the award winning tradition of the region serving Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Syrah, Sangiovese, Chardonnay, and Muscat Canelli. They recently won four awards at the 2009 San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition. Tasting rooms are open daily with picnic areas available.

In search of a bountiful white wine? Look no further than Sarah’s Vineyard located near Watsonville Road.  Featuring  lovely Pinot Noir and Chardonneys, the tasting room is open daily 11am-5pm.  A previous winner of the San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition and Appellation America, owner Tim Slater has created a delightfully quaint winery, nestled amongst the Santa Cruz mountains.

Highway 152 holds delights around each corner, views of the majestic Pacific Ocean, dense California Redwoods and distinguished wines for even the most epicurean palates.

There’s no denying the travel industry has taken a hit as a result of the slumping economy.  In response to all of these factors, hotels are stepping up their amenities and value-added services in an attempt to inject some growth back into their slumping occupancy rates.  Hotels have to do more in less time if they want to attract and maintain loyal customers.  That means doing whatever possible to turn the hotel room itself into a destination event, rather than just being a dumping ground for luggage and a comfortable bed.  The shorter the trip, the less hoteliers can rely on surrounding destinations to sell the room; there’s simply less time to see any of it. 

In response, hotels are providing more interesting services to appeal to a variety of customers. A popular trend in revitalized turn-down service includes what some hotels are calling a “bath sommelier” or “bath master”.  This new approach to guest services appeals to those road weary business travelers who have survived a brutal flight, a hectic meeting with clients and a rushed dinner in yet another city far from home.  But it also adds a spark of luxurious romance for the couple on a long weekend away from the children, when revitalizing and rejuvinating the mind, body and spirit is a high priority.  Having someone draw your bath, complete with aromatherapy oils, candles, plush towels and wine may seem a ridiculous indulgence to some - but in an economy becoming more and more defined in terms of scarcity and sacrifice, these guilty pleasures are likely to become more popular as long as they aren’t an overpriced extravagance.

Both business and pleasure travelers want good value for their money, knowing that they will be treated to extra special services that they can’t find at home.  No longer is it enough to simply pay top dollar: customers in today’s market want the experience of a lifetime while still keeping an eye on the bottom line.  While empty rooms require no daily room services or additional expenditures to the hotel, maintaining occupancy rates are the lifeline for successful hotels.  By providing additional amenities such as spa treatments, free meals at hotel restaurants and longer stay incentives, hotels improve their chances of long term survival in these highly uncertain times.

It’s vital to remember that one man’s extravagance is another’s reason for booking a third night’s stay.  Hospitality venues - not just hotels, but anyone in the travel industry - need to look at what they’re doing with fresh eyes.  Every little unique detail can constitute an additional incentive, and travel vendors may be already providing special amenities and not advertising it to potential guests.  To keep a competitive message in this tight market, they can’t afford to keep hiding the unique details that make them special.

Before I met my husband, my dog was one of my constant travel companions.  When I needed to get away, I would load him into the car and away we’d go.  The adventures didn’t need to be far from home - a simple walk on a local bike path, chucking rocks into the river or heading down to the beach for a run - but they helped clear my head and calm him down.

With the busy rushing around of the last several months, the dog has frequently been left behind to guard the house when we took off to explore or shake out the cobwebs.  But on Sunday, I told my husband I wanted to take him with us up into the foothills to explore a ghost town.  I walked outside to clean out the back seat of the car, shuffling papers, coffee cups and gum wrappers while Sam happily wandered about,  marking his territory in the front yard.

As I walked back toward the house, Sam jumped in the front seat of the car and sat in the driver’s side.  I called him, ridiculously patting my thighs, hoping he’d get out but he stubbornly refused.  I eventually gave up and as I turned back toward the house, he honked the horn.

This time, there would be no leaving the dog behind.

We wound our way around the green foothills of the central Sierra Nevadas, Sam’s head happily hanging from the window.  As we approached Knights Ferry, our search for the history of this hidden gem began in earnest.  I mentioned the cemetary, having heard some of the lore from family and friends but never seeing it for myself.  The road curved tightly to the left and the right, climbing steeply to the top of the hill.

As the road widened in front of us, the rusted iron sign of the Oak Grove Cemetery greeted us.  We parked the car outside the gates and entered the quiet stillness of the ancient resting grounds.  Sam walked to the gate and sat, somehow knowing to respect the sanctity of the plots of earth before him.  He would wait for us while we explored.

The cemetery revealed the unique history of the community, an infusion of Irish and English immigrants, a rush of deaths as a result of a massive flood in 1862, small children who did not survive childhood illness, families who had settled and raised generations in this enclave of 95 residents.  The more recent headstones glistened in the morning sun, the older covered in lichen and moss, overgrown and the victims of vandals. We headed back toward the gate, having walked the periphery of the grounds.

Upon reaching the gate, Sam’s tail quietly thumped the ground.  My husband reached down and patted his head.

“Come on boy, let’s go.”

The sun was still quite high in the sky, even as the hour approached 7pm.  The Highlands in summer are sunlit virtually all the time, making travel and sightseeing easier.  The road before us curved around the island cliff walls and the windswept white caps of the Atlantic churned below us.   The Highlands had already treated us to so many unknown beauties - off the beaten path, and away from the distractions of the hop-on/hop-off bus tours, kilts and tourists of Edinburgh’s Royal Mile.   We were not expecting what greeted us around the next bend.

We pulled into a turnout and climbed out of the car.  The cold North Atlantic winds were a treat after the stifling heat of the car.  On the edge of the precipice stood the ruins of Dumtulm Castle.  A haunting relic surviving since the 14th century, the castle was abandoned in the early 1730s after the McDonald clan chieftain’s infant son, while under the care of his nursemaid, fell from a window and died on the rocks below. 

We walked slowly along a sheep path toward the cliff’s edge, careful to avoid the perilous drop to the ocean.  The crumbling castle walls are protected by a wooden gate from zealous onlookers, but shaggy Highland sheep wander unabated throughout.  I pulled in a long, deep breath, smelling the salty air and thought, now this is Scotland.

There are few places in the day to day, hustle and bustle where we can truly stop to rest, to think, to listen.  In tough economic times, when all the rage seems to be “stay-cation”, finding peaceful respite at home can be difficult.  The TV always seems to be on.  The seductive lure of the internet is always close by.  Chores are never ending and the phone persists in ringing. 

At home, the indoors is never quite as soothing as being outside.  When the sun is warm, the quiet rustle of leaves in the breeze beckons us to enjoy the stillness that is right outside.  Whether it’s a porch swing on a summer’s evening, a patio chair on the terrace overlooking the city, or a leisurely stroll through a neighborhood park, we all need a quiet place to rest, to close out the rest of the world and simply be.   Seek out those places in these uncertain times and enjoy the beauty of a bird soaring overhead, a flower slowly opening, the sun shining down on your face.

We could hear the falls in the distance.  Somewhere, down the deeply shaded path, was a river.  The signs at the trailhead warned of rapid water below and the intoxicating sound of water rushing over rocks was more than we could resist.  I wasn’t particularly prepared for a hike, wearing only sandals, but we figured it would be a short walk.

We continued downward - never a good sign - and then suddenly were met with railroad tracks.  In the middle of nowhere, just off the interstate, near roaring rapids.  An odd combination.  We climbed up several flights of stairs of a pedestrian bridge to safely cross over the tracks.  We questioned whether we wanted to keep going.  The falls sounded just around the next bend but as we approached, all we saw were more trees and the continuing trail. But eventually, the path widened and we entered a clearing.  The Kootenai Falls opened up before us in a breath-taking display of roaring strength.

Road trips have the beauty of the open road and the freedom to stop at the small, tucked away locations that travel guides fail to mention.  The rustic wooden signs dotting state highways beckon the curious and encourage the unprepared for the unexpected views of a lifetime.

My time living in England was winding down. I knew that I needed to make each weekend count before the movers came to haul away the accumulation of my years of living abroad. Even though I’d relocated to the UK without knowing anyone, I was still afraid of a weekend jaunt alone. Where would I stay? What would I do? What was I thinking?

Traveling as a single woman can be daunting, but spending time alone on a plane - or for a long train ride - can be cathartic. The silence of the mind can be deafening, especially for those of us who don’t take the time to replenish ourselves. Existential angst aside, working past the mental roadblocks to traveling alone is the half the battle.

There are plenty of practical tips available for women who travel solo.  And they all read much like listening to your mother or a self-defense instructor.

“Don’t go anywhere alone at night.”

“Stay in a safe part of town.”

“Wrap your purse across your body.”

“Walk with determination and make eye contact with strangers.”

So let’s not go there. You know how to carry yourself in public. You know how to take care of yourself, and you’re savvy enough to know better than to get into a stranger’s car after a few drinks at a bar. But what do you do when eating a meal alone at a restaurant? There’s no one to talk to, and it can be awkward to pull out a book to read while munching on your Caesar salad. It’s always entertaining to people watch.. and who isn’t guilty of occasionally eavesdropping on a particularly juicy conversation? But in the silent moments after ordering, while munching on some bread and sipping quietly on your diet soda, there is nothing to do except sit and be still. Take time to reflect on your day, where you want to go tomorrow, what you will write about when you return to your hotel room. Get lost in the labyrinth of adventures that are solely yours to enjoy.

There is no easy answer for how to enjoy a table for one, especially at first. It’s simply something to get used to doing each day of your trip. Before you realize it, your journey will be winding down and you will have enjoyed lingering over museum displays that would bore your children, eaten food you wanted to savor, rested when you were tired, and browsed in boutiques for as long as you chose to and not felt guilty for holding back the rest of your traveling companions. As you get further into your travels, you’ll find it easier and more serene to keep your own company.