Travel changes us. Whether it’s a trip around the corner or around the world, travel has the ability to affect us in so many unexpected ways. Find out why where you are affects who you are and how to travel better, no matter where you go.
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The aftermath of a hard trip
Last week’s business trip to the Midwest was a hard trip. A marathon of meetings and then post-meeting follow-up making for 16-17 hour workdays in a time zone enough hours from normal to make sleep intermittent at best. It was a week where fatigue accumulates like pooled water after a storm and all your reserves start looking for reserves before you’re even half way through.
Looking up in and around the Market has its rewards
I got home Friday evening, spent time with my family and then melted into bed. I awoke the next morning on East Coast time (my body being no respecter of clocks): earlier than I wanted but thankful for the opportunity to wrap up some remaining work. Then, at 7:30 a.m., I drove back to the airport though not this time as a traveler. I was there to drop my son off for his flight back to college.
After that, I wanted to go home. Go back to bed. Relax. Get away from travel. But something compelled me to head in a different direction.
I rarely look out the back side of the Market, but if you do, this is what you might see
So, on a very foggy Saturday morning I drove instead to downtown Seattle. I needed a new roller bag. I wasn’t the only one who’d had a hard trip: my old, faithful 14-year-old piece of luggage longed for retirement. The retractable pull handle had given out as I boarded my outbound flight. The handle now extended like credit to someone who never pays their bills. In addition, the bag’s rollers barely lived up to their name. They made getting through the airport as quick and graceful as walking a cat on a leash.
But it was barely 8:00 a.m. and stores didn’t open till 10:00 a.m. What to do? Play tourist. Don’t ask me why, but despite my fatigue I headed up to one of the city’s biggest visitor destinations, Pike Place Market.
Normally, if I go to the Market, I do so to buy something or take photos or show it off to a visiting friend. But this day I was too tired to do anything more than wander. The place I was in mentally and emotionally allowed me to see the place I was in physically in a new way. To take in the Market on its own terms, not mine.
And that made all the difference.
I enjoyed the Market in a way I never have before. I noticed details like these odd cauliflower spike balls or the the merged scents of the place as if I’d never experienced the Market before. I was simply content to be there with none of the usual travel expectations and as a result, I discovered something new.
After a really long, hard trip, I experienced a gift: a reminder of why I love to travel. My road-weary fatigue allowed me to let go of the litany of usual tasks and attitudes I normally carry with me when I explore somewhere. Like how a hot shower relaxes you to be able to focus on a single thought, my exhaustion quieted down all the usual voices that tell me I need to somehow take advantage of visiting a place. To capture it all. Note it. Make sense of it.
Instead, I simply enjoyed it. Nothing more, nothing less. It was one of the best travel experiences I’ve had lately in part because it was never intended to be a travel experience. I was able to be present to that place because another place, a difficult trip, had broken me open to be open.
Friday night I was grumbling about a hard trip and a hard week.
Saturday morning, I was immeasurably grateful for both.
Not content to make a common paipo, Connor spent weeks working out the details for an innovative approach to his board. His vision was a surf and turf affair: A longboard complete with wooden wheels and trucks (the supporting pieces that hold the axels) which converted to a paipo. Ride it to the beach, pop off the wheels, unfold the top, tighten the bolts and out into the waves you go. Brilliant. At least in theory.
On the morning the day before the contest submission was due, Connor headed out to the beach with me in tow (after all, he needed a cameraman to record his test). We didn’t get far before the math set in: This was a Friday. I had a conference call at 2:00 p.m. Given a later departure than planned, we’d have about 25 minutes once we arrived at the beach for Connor to don his wetsuit, put together the longboard, ride and video that, convert it to the paipo and then video him surfing on it. Not enough time we realized. Enter Plan B.
Frame the sunset. Even when the sunset itself is the main attraction, use other elements – trees work particularly well – to frame your image. If you want to take better sunset photographs, concentrate on composition and lighting as much as on just that big orange ball that’s quickly sinking. The worst sunset images (and the most common) treat the sun like a target you’re centering in on with nothing else in the frame but the sun, the horizon and maybe some waves.
Add lens flare. This one is subjective. Some photographers see lens flare – those rainbow-like blocks or circles created by shooting directly into the sun – as a distraction or a mistake. For me, I like the added visual element…in moderation. To increase your chances of capturing lens flare, shoot toward the sun at a high F-stop (like F11 or higher if your camera allows aperture priority settings). Higher F-stops (and thus depth of field) can also make the sun’s rays more pronounced as in the above image.
Use a tripod. This is critical if you want to make a better sunset photograph by the ocean and you want the waves smoothed out via a long exposure. You can also make images long after the sun has set when the light is often at its best.
Know your camera and filters. Learn how to bracket your shots meaning, for example, you take one photo at the correct exposure, one a stop overexposed and a third a stop underexposed. Then, on your computer, use software to merge the three so that your foreground subject isn’t too dark you’re your sky isn’t too light. Many cameras today even allow you to do this by making an HDR (High Dynamic Range) image in the camera itself. Or go old school: Use a graduated neutral density filter on your lens that darkens the sky without making your foreground too shadowy.
Plan ahead. You usually only have about 30 minutes of great light during and after the sunset. You can get apps for your phone that tell you exactly when sunrise and sunsets occur wherever you are. Use them to be there and be set up knowing the scene you want to capture before you miss your moment. You want to be set before the sun does.
Follow the clouds. This is probably the most important tip of all: sunsets are pretty boring without clouds. Some of the best sunset photographs occur right after a storm or on really cloudy days. Clouds are the secret to making better sunset photographs.
At the end of the day, or really anytime, when you get to the “T” in the road, you have two choices. Three if you count continuing straight and driving into the Pacific Ocean.
Caracoles restaurant in Mal Pais has no dining room per se. Sure, there’s a covered area with tables and chairs next to the building that houses the kitchen and bar. But my wife, Kris, and I chose instead one of several tables out beneath the palm trees right on the edge of the beach. At first, it seemed more picnic than fine dining until we tasted the food.
