A Great Deal on Captiva Island Condo in December
Guest Post and Photo by Amy Perry Basseches
Guest Post and Photo by Amy Perry Basseches
Talk to any Aussie and they’ll tell you that Tasmania is the Australia of yore, an island the size of Ireland that boasts a diverse landscape of creamy sands, endless tracts of lush forest, dramatic sea cliffs battered by Antarctic gales, craggy peaks, and alpine lakes. One of the best ways to appreciate this wilderness is on the legendary Overland Track, a 40-mile trek that links 5,069-foot Cradle Mountain with the waters of Lake St. Clair. Now is the time to book for the popular December to April season since the number of backpackers is limited. You can either to choose to tackle the four to six day hike on your own or on a guided trek with naturalists from Cradle Mountain Huts. Spend the nights on a mattress at one of the five cradle huts, then wake up to the call of the native Karrowong bird and get ready to trample over leaves, smelling the sweet scent of sassafras, as you take in the varied landscape of mountain streams, glacial rock, and dark forests.
On the second day of our safari, I woke up at sunrise to the cacophony of high-pitched bird calls. French-press coffee arrived at my lodge at Stanley’s Camp and I drank a cup overlooking the high grasses of the Okavango Delta. After breakfast, our group of six was driven to a clearing where we soon stared in awe at a massive 11 ½-foot high, 5 to 6 ton elephant named Jabu. A gentle giant, Jabu was joined by two other elephants, the playful Thembi, and the oldest of the trio, 40 year-old Morula. The elephants were led by American Doug Groves and his South African-born wife, Sandi, two zoologists who adopted the threesome when culling operations in South Africa and Zimbabwe left them as orphans more than 25 years ago.
t’s not just the stunning setting of Laguna Lodge, nestled in a 100-acre nature preserve on the shores of Lake Atitlan, surrounded by three volcanoes. Or the ultra-sybaritic services, like soaking your body in the hot river rock pool or opting for a deep tissue massage at Hummingbird Spa after a day of hiking, mountain biking, kayaking, rock climbing or horseback riding. No, it’s that the owners Mayah and Jeffro Brandon (she’s a Kiwi, he’s an Aussie) have their hearts in the right place
The big news out of Boston last week was a Boston Globe report that discovered many seafood restaurants serving mislabeled fish. Pricey red snapper was replaced by far cheaper tilapia in many instances. White tuna was exchanged for a Central American fish called escolar that often causes stomach ailments. These restaurants were often duped by fraudulent wholesalers who made the bait and switch. Good news is that many of the recently opened seafood restaurants in town like Island Creek Oyster Bar and Legal Harborside either employ their own wholesale seafood business or go straight to the source, the fishermen, so they had no problems.
Even better, a new collaboration between fishermen and New England chefs has resulted in Trace and Trust. Fishermen tell chefs where they are going to fish and what they hope to catch. A photo of the catch will then be uploaded on the Trace and Trust website. When the catch is landed, it is assigned a unique ID number and QR code. The fish is then packed on ice and brought to each restaurant. Diners who order the fish receive a card with that same ID number and QR code. They can scan the QR code with their smart phone or enter the ID number on the Trace and Trust website to learn the story of where their fish was caught and by whom. James Beard-nominated chef, Richard Garcia, at 606 Congress, is already using this technique and diners love it. Boston has always taken its seafood seriously. By going straight to the fishermen, the latest round of seafood restaurants ensure that you’re getting the finest quality fish.
Writing about Palau yesterday reminded me of a story I once wrote for Continental’s inflight magazine on “8 Great Places You’ve Never Heard Of.” The main body of the story was on Yap. Smack dab in the middle of Micronesia, between Palau and Guam, Yap is known only to World War II history buffs and scuba enthusiasts. Large numbers of manta rays live in the crystalline 83-degree water offshore. Anchor at the edge of the M’il Channel and these graceful creatures will soon be hovering above your head, stretching up to 12 feet from wing to wing.