Coastal Living Magazine - Discovery Bicycle Tours

VACAT
IONS
THAT WILL
CHANGE
YOUR LIFE
TRAVELSTOCK44/GETTY IMAGES
From stunning beaches in Greece to a
beloved Northeastern coast, these journeys
are sure to inspire and transform
Golden sunlight illuminates
the white exteriors of
restaurants, shops, and
cafés in Mykonos Town.
LEARNING
TO
SURF
IN JACO, COSTA RICA
Volunteers’ investment in the
rebirth of New Orleans is
repaid in full by experiencing
the city’s vibrant culture.
T
REBUILDING
IN NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
J
AZZ MUSIC EMANATES FROM
everywhere: an open window, a car radio,
a duo playing violin and guitar in the
middle of the road. At first I wonder
whether the notes are coming from
inside my head, a soundtrack to how I
always imagined New Orleans would be.
I hear the same tunes coming from a paint-covered
boom box outside a weatherbeaten house in Algiers,
a neighborhood still feeling the effects of Hurricane
Katrina nearly a decade after its destruction. I’ve
arrived at this tarp-covered site to volunteer for
Rebuilding Together New Orleans, which organizes
helpers to repair storm-damaged houses.
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A truck filled with construction materials sits at the
worksite, where the homeowner takes me from room
to room and tells me stories of the happy times her
family enjoyed here pre-Katrina. She’s spent the past
eight years and every bit of her insurance money fixing
rooms inside, and only the exterior work stands in the
way of regaining the home she once had.
Atop a ladder in the sweltering Louisiana heat, my
face covered with a dust mask, I scrape away at the
house’s existing layer of paint. The day soon becomes
one of the most exhausting I’ve ever had, and I want
more than anything to take a break and find some
air-conditioning. But another conversation with the
homeowner renews my energy: In this city, she
explains, nothing is taken for granted—music, food, a
stranger’s kindness—and that appreciation gives
people amazing resilience. What I’m doing is more
than just making this house look better; I’m helping
to give someone else the strength to take on whatever
life may throw at her. Working in time to the music,
covering three dropcloths full of old paint chips, I
actually finish the day stronger than I started.
After a quick cleanup at The Roosevelt New Orleans
hotel, I sink my sore muscles into a chair at Restaurant
R’evolution. A pair of world-famous chefs here joined
forces after Hurricane Katrina in a large-scale effort
to bring food to survivors. Their pride in their city is
still evident today in their take on traditional Creole
food and its inventive presentation: A corn-and-crab
soup is served cappuccino style, topped with a truffle
foam and popcorn garnish.
Post dinner, I head to Frenchmen Street and stop
inside Snug Harbor Jazz Bistro. It’s the crescendo of
the soundtrack that has played throughout my New
Orleans experience—lively music that encourages
putting not just the mind, but the entire body to work.
And I can think of nowhere I’d rather be than lost in
its melody. —Madeleine Frank
Rates at The Roosevelt New Orleans start at $199; theroosevelt
neworleans.com. To volunteer, visit rtno.org.
FROM LEFT: PETER FRANK EDWARDS/REDUX PICTURES, IMAGESOURCE/CORBIS; OPPOSITE: GALLERY STOCK, FRANS LANTING/GALLERYSTOCK (INSET)
HE THREE MOST IMPORTANT
Warm water, friendly
waves, lush mountains:
a dreamy classroom
for surf school
principles are look forward,
relax, and stay low,” says my
instructor, seven-time Costa
Rica national surfing champion
Alvaro Solano Delgado. We’re
perched on a wooden platform on a hillside a
few miles from the Pacific Ocean. After practicing my pop-up to surfer crouch a few times,
Delgado deems me seaworthy. We load into the
Vista Guapa Surf Camp truck and drive five
minutes down to Jaco Beach for the real thing.
Once there, Delgado and his teenage nephew
Titi unload a quiver of surfboards in varying
sizes. “We’ll walk out until the water is here,”
Delgado says, motioning to his chest, “and
then we’ll get on the board and paddle.”
Gulp. Somehow, until we’re paddling toward
them, I haven’t processed the size of the waves.
Jaco is known for its beginner-friendly surf
break, and I try to believe this despite the rushing walls of water coming at me.
Beyond the churning breakers is our goal:
calm water. But first, we have a gauntlet to run.
I paddle out for several grueling minutes with
Titi behind me, helping me to stay right-side
up. When I reach the promised land, I feel an
immediate sense of accomplishment—and an
aching in my upper body. Now, it’s time to surf.
“Paddle, paddle, paddle!” yells Delgado.
“Up!” And, like we practiced, I pop up, stay up,
and am gliding toward shore. I feel wobbly, but
I crouch low, look ahead, reach my arms outward, and try to relax. It feels amazing, and
around me I hear whoops of support. The
beach looks even more picturesque from my
surfboard, where I can see the entire C-curve
of dark brown sand is dotted with palm trees
that stretch toward the brilliant blue sky.
Beyond that, hills covered in verdant forest
roll gently upward. A pair of scarlet macaws
decked out in vibrant plumage flies by, wings
lifting and falling in unison.
I score several great rides that day, learning
that catching the waves—at least under the
tutelage of Delgado—is the easy part. It’s paddling back against the ceaseless breakers that’s
the challenge. But the view and the ride are
worth it, time and time again.
Returning to the surf camp, I make the steep
but short walk to my cabin on the hillside. My
Technicolor hammock provides the perfect
vantage point for reflecting on the day’s adventure. I can see our surf spot below, and it feels
like a treasured escape to me after my afternoon playing in its waves.
Later that night, on the way to dinner, I seize
the chance to grill my coach about his surfing
history—when did he start (10 years old, with
a broken board), where are his favorite places
in the world to surf (Puerto Escondido in
Mexico and, of course, Costa Rica).
Now it’s Delgado’s turn to ask the questions:
“Would you surf every day if you could?” “Oh
yes,” I answer. “Every day.” —Susan Hall Mahon
Rates start at $500 for three nights, meals, and surf
lessons; vistaguapa.com.
THE GALÁPAGOS ISLANDS
I
T IS MY FIFTH DAY ABOARD THE LUXURY
Silver Galapagos expedition ship, the newest
addition to the Silversea line, and my transformation is almost complete. As I swim
through the waters of Champion Island, well
insulated and buoyant in my wetsuit, I
believe I am becoming part sea lion. Snorkeling once
or twice a day, I am on the hunt as they are, chasing
penguins and colorful fish. My ears stick out slightly,
pushed down by the tight strap of my mask. (External
ear flaps are one of the most obvious ways to distinguish a sea lion from a seal.) Suddenly, a pod of sea
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FROM LEFT: CHRISTIAN KOBER/ALAMY, TODD MINTZ/ALAMY, FRANS
LANTING/NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC, DANITA DELIMONT/GETTY IMAGES
CRUISING
lions greets me as its own, swimming toward me and
peering straight into my eyes, then bending and twisting as they spiral down below me, only to pop back up
by my side. What I do, they mimic: a twirl, a splash, a
dive. I watch as one playfully picks up a starfish in its
mouth and starts a game of sea lion Frisbee for which
I now have a front-row seat.
I am on an expedition, and an expedition is nothing
like a cruise. Evidence: The ship has four lounge chairs
on board for its 100 passengers. More evidence: They’re
always empty because no one has the time (or desire)
to lounge. Expeditions, on land and in the water, head
out twice a day; some start as early as 6:30 a.m. The
cabins are spacious, and most have small decks, but
we are kept so busy that all we really see is the bed
when we crash there immediately after dinner.
We are sped in expertly manned Zodiacs to otherwise inaccessible landings of interest throughout the
archipelago. And from these posts, we are able to see
the most wondrous things: the striking contrast of a
tiny yellow warbler perched on the mottled shell of a
giant tortoise; the bulletlike speed of penguins darting
through the water after a school of fish; a dark, craggy
cliff against the outrageously turquoise feet of a bluefooted booby unaware of its own impossible beauty;
the heartbreaking cries of an orphaned baby sea lion
as he seeks solace from other mothers, only to be
rebuffed by angry barks. (Helping him might endanger
their own lives and offspring.)
The Galápagos Islands (named after the Spanish
word for a type of saddle, used to describe the nowendangered giant tortoises) are famous for inspiring
Darwin’s theories of evolution. He spent five weeks
here; I only have one in which to see the abundant
wildlife: finches, sea turtles, pink flamingos, marine
iguanas, and bright red crabs. One of the most amazing
things is that they are unafraid of humans. They don’t
even blink when we lean in with our protruding lenses.
The islands themselves are less photogenic: most
are inhospitable piles of lava rocks, leftover from fiery
active volcanoes. Some islands look like drip castles;
others, like vast landscapes of dark chocolate buttercream whipped by electric beaters. It’s a place where
very little grows, and there is almost no freshwater.
Putting it in context for us is a wonderful team of
Ecuadorian naturalists, certified by the national park.
They are our onboard guides as we travel 435 nautical
miles through this place of complete otherness smack
dab on the Equator. But thanks to them (and the sea
lions), I find myself strangely at home in a world I once
barely even knew existed. —Antonia van der Meer
From left: A Sally
Lightfoot crab hanging
out on the seaside
rocks; a cute and
curious Galápagos sea
lion pup; Kicker Rock
near San Cristóbal,
the perfect photo op;
a blue-footed booby
proudly showing her
true colors
Rates for a seven-day cruise on the Silver Galapagos start at
$5,450 per person; silversea.com.
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BIKING
THE COAST
OF MAINE
80
A
FTER FOUR DAYS SPENT
pedaling past tiny lobster
shacks and towering lighthouses on our way through
quiet fishing villages, it’s the
final ride of the trip. When
we cross the finish line, our Discovery Bicycle
Tours group members will scatter back to our
home states. We have our heads, fingers, and
noses buried in all three of our maps, periodically looking up to see if the signage is
pointing us toward Bar Harbor. We’ve taken
a detour to avoid a busy highway and now
we need to decide if we should reverse the
morning’s directions and retrace our trail. If
only the GPS would work! Instead, a handsome man on a bike—barely out of breath—
stops at our group. “Did you just come from
Bar Harbor?” someone asks. “Can we get
there from here?” “Yes, of course,” he says.
“Just take a right, and then it’s all lefts.” With
his directions, the ride back is downhill—and
I am nothing if not an excellent coaster.
To be honest, I am not an adventure-seeker
or a hardcore anything. I am an erstwhile runner, a sometime yogi, and lately a real couch
potato. Looking back, jumping into five full
days of biking around Maine seems a bit crazy,
but I couldn’t have found a better tour group.
Vermont-based Discovery Bicycle Tours
offers small-group cycling vacations around
the United States and Europe. The six-day
coastal Maine tour has had us rolling down
carriage roads and into villages, and hopping
boats to the islands around Bass Harbor. Each
day holds new coastal views and a chance to
redeem myself from the last ride.
Each night has meant a filling dinner, excellent conversation, and warm beds at either
The Claremont Hotel in Southwest Harbor or
the Manor House Inn in Bar Harbor. I am
admittedly partial to our guides, David and
Cindy, who became counselors, teachers, and
coaches. I was never without one of them,
which ultimately forced me to grit my teeth
and spin out another mile—uphill. Someone
rode in the back (read: with me), and the other
drove a van, which amazingly I never used.
I am the youngest by about 20 years and the
worst by about 1,000 miles. Each day, I’ve drug
in at dark, legs shaking and sweaty, only to
find the others—mostly couples—all showered and ready to eat. But I am leaving so
inspired: I think that all of my new friends will
agree that we each lost something on this
trip—inhibitions, a pair of gloves, five or 10
pounds. But we gained so much more. Inspiration. Determination. Knowledge. (And yes,
a sore rear.) —Kristen Shelton Fielder
Rates for the six-day Coast of Maine Bike Tour start
at $1,850; discoverybicycletours.com.
FROM LEFT: MIKE KEMP/BLEND IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES, ALAN COPSON/GETTY IMAGES; OPPOSITE: JUSTIN LEWIS/GETTY IMAGES, TONY RATH PHOTOGRAPHY/TONYRATH.COM (INSET)
Biking in Maine is a
two-wheel adventure
through beautiful
landscapes, with pit
stops at some of the
best lobster shacks
in the country.
SNORKELING
THE BELIZE BARRIER REEF
I AM IN A 16-SEATER FLYING ABOVE
Inset: A deluxe beachfront
casita at Matachica Resort &
Spa; inside, a gauzy-canopied
bed and sleek sofa face out to
open wood-shuttered doors,
sandy shore, and the reef.
the aquamarine waters of Belize, and
already my life has changed: Being
claustrophobic, I have always avoided
anything much smaller than a jet for
air travel, yet I’m feeling a mixture of
peace and exhilaration in this tiny space with
an outsized view of the Caribbean. It’s a short
flight from Belize City to the country’s largest
island, Ambergris Caye, and I’m soon in a
water taxi speeding to El Pescador, a colonialstyle resort facing the big draw of Belize: its
barrier reef. The world’s second-largest (after
Australia), it’s home to some 500 species of
fish, and I am here to swim among them.
El Pescador’s dive instructor, Alonzo Flota,
was raised on the island and grew up freediving with his father for lobster. He has a wide
smile and an easy manner, and seems part fish
himself. Our first destination is a protected
marine reserve a few minutes away called Hol
Chan, meaning “little channel,” marked only
by a buoy above the sea. Below the surface, life
is teeming. First to approach are six wide-eyed
fish called permits, Flota says as we bob up.
Plunging back down, I’m surrounded by a
school of yellow-and-black striped fish—
sergeant majors—and I’m instantly one of
them, swimming alongside. Through the blur
of stripes, Flota points downward, where an
enormous sea turtle nuzzles the sandy bottom,
beautifully intricate markings decorating his
shell. He flaps to the surface in slow motion,
takes a long breath, and then sinks.
Blue, yellow, even lavender-eyelidded fish
with multi spots and stripes dart or meander
by—but there are also odd little beings, like
an arrow crab with spidery, pine-straw legs
sprouting tiny purple claws. We encounter
giant things: a green moray eel with mouth
agape (I keep my distance), and stingrays skirting the ocean floor like massive, undulating car
mats. In nearby Shark Ray Alley, we’re surrounded by nurse sharks, which look and act
less like sharks and more like a combo of catfish and seal, with whiskers and brown bodies
that feel like sandpaper.
Back at my spacious, cathedral-ceiling villa,
I head outside. Two long, family-style dinner
tables preside under palm trees strung with
paper lanterns, and fishing, snorkeling, and
diving tales from the day are shared. I sample
snapper that my tablemate Tim caught that
afternoon—amazingly light and delicious.
From amiable El Pescador, I travel north the
next day to the romantic Matachica Resort
& Spa, where I lie on my casita’s hammock,
the low-breaking waves of the barrier reef
in the distance, a mere 20-minute kayak ride
away. As I mull over that possibility, I know
that anytime from now on, I can close my eyes
and transport myself back to the middle of a
school of fish by the reef, happy under the sea.
—Jennifer Brunnemer Slaton
Villa rates at El Pescador start at $280; elpescador
.com. Rates at Matachica Resort & Spa start at $225;
matachica.com.
& DELOS, GREECE
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F balcony at Mykonos Grand Hotel & Resort,
I can see golden rays of sunlight streaming
down from the sky, igniting the wispy edges
of a plump cloud and warming the cobalt
surf below. It’s an ethereal scene—for a
moment I wonder if Apollo himself might descend
from that cloud and find a seat on the sandy beach.
After all, I’m staring at the island of Delos, birthplace of the god of light (and today’s destination). Even
in October, when the party isle of Mykonos settles into
a more languid pace, the winding, gray stone roads of
Mykonos Town overflow with locals and tourists in
alfresco cafés lunching over Greek salads (absolutely
no lettuce—just a beautiful mix of ripe tomatoes, bell
peppers, red onion, and whole blocks of feta drizzled
with olive oil). After a quick ferry ride to Delos, I wander among the ruins of early Aegean civilization, the
stark landscape punctured with rock walls. I stare up
FROM LEFT: MARCO SIMONI/ALAMY, TETRA IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES,
MARCO SIMONI/ALAMY, JACKIE ALPERS/GALLERY STOCK
SEEKING
THE
SUN
IN MYKONOS
R O M T H E W H I T E , S CA L L O P- E D G E D
at the tall columns, what we’re told was once the foundation of a grand home. I feel an electric charge that
starts at my feet as I trace my fingers over some
ancient Greek letters carved into sandstone. On the
way back to Mykonos, I sit next to a French woman;
she says she’s wearing SPF 50, but marvels at her rosy
tinge from the sun. We dub this the “Mykonos glow”—
bronzed by the gods.
As the sun begins to set, the bright white, curved
structures of town—boutiques, restaurants, and bars—
blaze orange and pink. Winding along the walkways,
it’s easy to get distracted by whimsically painted doors
and flowering bougainvillea hanging from balconies.
“This is one of the best places on Earth to get a little
lost,” a kind (and handsome) Greek man tells me, and
then points me in the direction of the highly recommended Kounelas Fish Tavern. I settle into my cozy
corner table lit by a soft blue lamp, and order the fresh
catch of the day—but first, I need to pick it out. From
the fishermen’s cooling drawers, I’m presented with
silver-bellied sargos (sea bream), scarlet prawns, and
a gaggle of cockles; I choose a medium-size fish, which
is served with rice and boiled potatoes. The flavors are
simple. The meal is extraordinary.
For a nightcap, I head back out into town and end
up in the Little Venice neighborhood, where the stout
white bases and thatched caps of giant, round windmills preserved from the 16th century overlook the
harbor. I take a chair two feet from the water at Caprice
of Mykonos. At the moment my neat martini arrives,
a wave curls up from the sea, adding a few droplets
of salt to my drink. Just another gift from the gods.
—Jacquelyene Froeber
From left: The bustling
harbor of Mykonos
Town; colorful shutters
and doors, which
become landmarks
when making your way
around town; the island
of Delos, a UNESCO site
with amazing ruins; an
authentic Greek salad
Rates for the luxurious sea-view suites at Mykonos Grand
Hotel & Resort start at $323; mykonosgrand.gr. Cozy up in a
boho-chic suite at San Giorgio Mykonos, where rates start at
$200; sangiorgio.gr. Rates at Kouros Hotel, a 10-minute walk
to town, start at $170; kouroshotelmykonos.gr.
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