"No problem" at Dunn's River, Jamaica

No one over fifty, in my shape anyway, should climb up 900 feet of waterfalls, over rocks and through racing water. But two weeks ago, I did at Dunn’s River in Jamaica. I don’t know how many tourists the river guides take up the falls each day, but the whole experience is damn foolishness, that’s for sure. The photo of Deb and me was shot after we were soaking wet but shortly before I took a series of missteps on grassy boulders, into underwater holes, and was practically dragged up the last thirty feet of the falls.

An observation: the only requirement for being allowed to climb the falls was, besides payment, the wearing of water shoes or rubber-soled sandals. No helmets, no padding, no paperwork. And not a handrail in sight. This kind of nonsense simply isn’t allowed in the litigious, safety-conscious U.S.

When empires bite the dust

I mentioned a few days ago that we’d been away on a trip. One of our stops was at the Mayan ruins at Tulum, on the east coast of the Yucatan Peninsula in the state of Quintana Roo, Mexico. Tulum was occupied, they say, from around 1200 A.D. until contact was made with the Spanish in the early 16th century. And one empire was essentially smashed by the other.

The archeological site is fantastic. The area’s gorgeous, with the ruins sitting about 40 feet above the Caribbean Sea. Iguanas are accommodating and pose for pictures.

Of course, I’ve long been fascinated with fallen empires. It’ll be interesting to see what Wall Street looks like in a couple hundred years.

Death from the skies!

This is the meal Debbie and I were served on our Continental Airlines flight Monday from Houston to San Francisco. Remarkably, this "pizza" looks exactly like the "cheeseburger" we were served nine days earlier on our Continental flight from SF to Houston. Yum!

Gone to San Diego for Comic-Con

The weather's too damn nice for blogging

Winter's last hurrah

Yeah, I’ve been incommunicado these past few days. No cell phones. No TV. Just me, Deb, and a few friends, hunkered down in a cabin in Yosemite with a case of wine, good food, and a backpack worth of novels. This weekend may have been the last hurrah of Winter 2008. When we arrived in Wawona mid-week, there was “old snow” scattered alongside the roadside, but by Friday, down in the valley, scattered clouds and cold temps were threatening snowfall. The small storm arrived Saturday morning and it snowed off and on all day.

I’ve never been a big snow person, mainly because I hate driving in the stuff. I won’t go out of my way to find snow here in California, but when it arrives, and if I’m already comfortably situated by a fire with a book and a cigar, I enjoy the hell out of it.

Yesterday was beautiful. The falls were roaring. Blue skies. A great day to drive the 235 miles back home to the central coast. And I didn’t even have to put the chains on the car. A good day.

Happy holiday -- see you Nov. 26

The last sounds of summer

I can tell it's Labor Day weekend, the last real weekend of summer. We live above the Oceano dunes, and since last night, all I've heard is the roar of dune buggies and ATVs. Gotta turn the TV up.

Sorry, I'm blissing out

Just checking in. Deb and I are back from a brief vacation in Carmel, just a couple hours north of here, and I'm still "blissing out" from all the gorgeous weather, terrific food and wine, and fun art galleries. I can't even get a decent rant going about Karl Rove right now. Imagine! The single thing Carmel lacks is a really great bookstore. The only one left in town -- several have closed since I last visited two years ago -- is a teeny New Age metaphysical shop...not that there's anything wrong with that. See you shortly.

Will I find a deal on Priceline.com?

My semi-major home remodel is kicking the shit outta my wallet right now, so I doubt I’ll be among the first to check into Galactic Suite when it opens for outer space business in 2012. A three-day stay at the three-bedroom (i.e., three-pod) boutique space hotel, says Xavier Claramunt, director of the company planning the hotel, will cost $4 million; that also includes eight weeks of intensive training at a space camp. The price is out of my range, but Claramunt says in a Reuters story: “We have calculated that there are 40,000 people in the world who could afford to stay at the hotel. Whether they will want to spend money on going into space, we just don’t know.” Well, were it not for the cost, I’d be there in a snap. If any readers out there want to help defray the expense of my staying at Galactic Suite, please contact me ASAP.