What is the Ghost Fleet, you ask? Well, as our kayak and history guide from the excellent Atlantic Kayak Company explained to the group of about 12 intrepid kayakers, it started out as a bunch of wooden and iron ships built for the U.S. Navy during World War I. Due to the fact that the Navy needed a lot of ships fast (the goal was to build 1,000 of these in short order) the ships were assembled kind of slap-dash, and not always by the most experienced ship builders.

So, from the very beginning, they had their problems. And, not too many of them actually got to see service during the war. After the war, most of them were towed to languish sadly in Norfolk, VA, slowly decaying to the point of uselessness. Their fate was to be scrapped for any usable metal, and then removeded to a shallow bay on the Maryland side of the Potomac to be burned.

The problem, or really the good thing for us today, is that the heavy ship bottoms sunk in the mucky bottom of Mallows Bay, so what remained below the water line just kind of slouched there, slowly returning to, or being made into homes for, nature. (The remaining metal was also gleaned by locals hard hit by the Great Depression, so they helped feed many a human family during that dark period.)

Today the “bones” of the ships, in various stages of on-going decomposition, have bushes, trees, and grasses growing in their centers, and are home to all manner of wildlife. Birds, beavers, bees – and lots of other things that don’t start with the letter “b.”

A guided tour of some of the most interesting ships makes for an eerily lovely paddle. Especially during low tide (yes, the Potomac is tidal!) one can marvel at the size of the ships by noting their outlines, look for evidence of the teaming life, and learn interesting factoids.

This is a highly recommended trip for those in the DC area who like being out on the water, speculating on the way nature takes over what people abandon, and imagining the lost majesty of these vessels…now ghosts of their former selves, and totally appropriate for Halloween season! Enjoy some snaps of the experience, though somehow my photos taken from kayaks are less than stellar. But, you’ll get the idea…

Too many people think of Indiana as one big cornfield. It does have a lot of cornfields, but so much more. My friend Peggy lives in the northern reaches of Indianapolis, a good jumping off point for exploring the northern areas of the state. So, we set off to visit another friend, Sue, and her husband Tom who live near Lake Michigan.

The lake was riled up when we took a stroll on the dunes of Miller Beach. If you didn’t know better (and also if you didn’t notice and recognize the skyline of downtown Chicago in the distance) you would swear you were at the ocean. The remnants of the end of summer littered the beach: a broken folding chair, a ruined flip flop or two, and a lone sock harboring a colony of lady bugs.

We drove south to a smaller and less wild-looking waterway, Cedar Lake, one of the smallish glacial lakes dotting northern Indiana. A historic resort, Lassen’s, has been turned into a museum which tells the story of the ice harvested on the lake, notable people who lived in the community surrounding the lake, and the resort itself. We took a ride on the replica of the steam powered launch which took visitors from the Monon Line railway from Chicago to Lassen’s for rest and relaxation “back in the day.”

Back in Indianapolis, we took our friend Susan’s advice and visited the Restoration Hardware showroom/restaurant/scenic experience which opened last year in a not-really-historic palatial mansion. Better known as the DeHaan Estate, the property has an interesting backstory you can read here. Among other things, before super-rich time share mogul and philanthropist Christel DeHaan built the mansion in the early 2000s, a seminary for African-American Catholics was located there. RH bought the house and property for a cool $14.5 million.

Who knew, right? But Indiana always surprises me, no matter how many times I visit, and Peggy is the perfect companion to “wander” with and discover new wonders! Here are some of the highlights in pictures:

When we discovered during our trip planning that Tallinn, Estonia is just an easy two-hour ferry ride across the Baltic Sea from Helsinki, we had to take advantage of the opportunity to add another country to our itinerary. We also read, and heard, that Tallinn had a lovely Medieval old town, on the Unesco World Heritage list, had many interesting sites, and was very walkable.

After a pleasant, uneventful passage on the huge ferry, we arrived at the port entry, and decided to walk to the Old Town where we had booked our accommodations. It’s not very far, but you have to cross a couple of very busy roads, and there was a lot of constuction, so it was not the most fun walk ever with roller board baggage in tow.

When we got to the vicinity of our Air BNB, we could not for the life of us find the entrance to the apartment building. Enter a very nice older woman who took us through a (secret?) basement passage, pointing us to the lobby of our building, and then disappeared. Was she a magical guide, or just a local who was more than done with us, once she had safely delivered us to the proper address? Either way, she did some clueless strangers a big favor, which boded well for our visit. (Come to find out, the entrance was virtually around the corner, but the directions were rather opaque.)

During our first foray into Old Town, we sought sustenance. It is de rigeur to try one of several pancake restaurants sprinkled throughout the area. This was not your light, airy and namby-pamby French style crepe, nor your doughy American breakfast offering. A heavy-duty affair, stuffed to the gills with meat, cheese (and maybe some nod to vegetables) arrived promptly to our table. Truth in advertising, the Kompressor has myriad choices of filled pancakes, and at very reasonable prices. Prepare to be as stuffed as the pancake if you eat it all. The dark wood interior also looks very Medieval (and maybe not redecorated since that era), to get you in the mood for exploring Old Town.

Stopping by the Visitor Center right in the heart of Old Town (where the staff all seems to have excellent English and are very helpful) will orient you to the city with maps, brochures, and answers to even your dumbest questions. We discovered (on our own, since we didn’t think to ask) that the Maritime Museum, which was just down the street from our apartment, had evening hours that day, and also a senior discount! It is located in one of the gate towers flanking the city, and is well worth a visit.

That was a highlight of the above ground cultural sites, but the next day, we did the below part. After venturing outside the gates to visit the market near the train station, and a very cool contemporary arts district, we finally figured out where the entrance to the Kiek in de Kök Fortification Museum was located. This museum complex includes an underground tour of the “Bastion passages,” an extensive series of tunnels.

Upon later comparing notes with a number of friends who have also visited Tallinn, not one of them had descended into this fascinating find. It is apparently not on too many of the “what to do if you only have two or three days in Tallinn” lists, but it was one of my favorite parts of our time there. Eerie, full of layers of history, and a cool respite from the unseasonably warm day, it hit several marks for this tourist!

My other favorite find was the (free!) medical museum, the Town Hall Pharmacy, purported to be “the oldest pharmacy in Europe that has continually operated on the same premises.” Just a couple of rooms, really, but very interesting and right in the thick of town center.

All in all, we really enjoyed our two nights, and almost three days in Tallinn. We missed a lot of things, naturally, but I think we packed in a good deal. Above and below, Tallinn ranks high in my recommendation of Nordic-adjacent cities to visit. Check some more details in the photos below, and feel free to let me and other readers know what you enjoyed if you have ever been there!

Our day started at Gunhilde’s current home, which has been in her partner’s family for nine generations. It is a picturesque complex of buildings, stained red in by the traditional method, including a sprawling farmhouse and various outbuildings. (Someone else’s) herd of white cows graze placidly in an adjacent meadow, and the property backs up to the woods. In other words, a setting straight out of a Swedish fairy tale, but minus the mischievous elves and other supernatural and sometimes malevolent beings.

After a leisurely breakfast and gathering ourselves together, we drove to the largest nearby town, making a stop for some errands before our first adventure: a Moose Safari. Basically, you drive your car around a fairly long loop trail in the woods, where the owners have gathered a bunch of moose in a natural setting (for safekeeping I guess, as well as to delight visitors). The moose seem pretty content with this arrangement. (And, this is better than encountering a wild, loose moose around a bend on a country road, it is to be noted.) We learned a lot about moose habits from the informative signage! We did see at least five or six moose, and the “bonus” – a slightly mangy herd of American bison.

Next, back home to the farm, to embark on a scenic walk to a nearby lake. We made an important detour from the lakeside into the farmland to visit Gunhilde’s favorite tiny bakery shop to pick out pastries. (More about how the pastries fit into the perfect Swedish day below.) By way of the lake, and then a stroll through the woods, we looped back to the farmstead.

By then, having had our exercise, we were ready to put the pastries to good use. I think we ate a light dinner first, but then indulged in our pastries not so much as “dessert” but in the traditional Swedish manner of fika. Fika is sort of like a coffee break, or afternoon tea, but really the only rule is that you get to eat some delicious pastries of your choice (cinnamon or cardamon buns are classic), sip a hot beverage, and chat, laugh, and generally enjoy yourselves with friends. You could do fika alone, too, but pastries are still a must, and it’s more fun with company.

The last act of the day was to go pet the cows (Gunhilde sang them a song) and watch the sunset. “Last act” since the sun doesn’t set in the Nordic countries in the summer until almost ten p.m., and is up again by 4 a.m.!

All in all, a really wonderful time and a great break from visiting the cities on our agenda. Experience it here in photos, and here’s hoping you had your own perfect summer day this season. If so, feel free to tell us about it in the comments!

We sort of knew what we were “in for” – beautiful scenery, excursions on the water, some cultural and marine biological learning, and – maybe best of all – someone was going to cook for us. But I don’t think any of us were prepared for the superlatives that filled in those basics. Spectacular scenery, amazing excursions, unforgettable learning experiences, and – definitely best of all – having a superbly talented chef and her staff serving us three mouth-watering meals a day (plus bonus happy hour snacks with a view!).

For four days and four nights we reveled in this utopian dream. We forgot that it took us at least five conveyances and two days to get there. We forgot whatever it was that we left behind at home (work? families? obligations? what??). We almost forgot our own names at times I think. We definitely lived in and for the moment, tried everything (well almost – no dips in freezing cold water for me thanks!) And didn’t regret any of it. (mmm, for me, maybe regretting snorkling in a wet suit – not my sport for sure!)

We didn’t need to stray far from the lodge for a lot of action. A bear sauntered through the orchard, and even around the rocky tide pool one morning. The resident bald eagle flew from one group of evergreens to another regularly. Hummingbirds flitted around the feeders and the bright red fuchsia flowers. (The fuchsia bush was right next the the hot tub. Nuff said.) And every night we were treated to a lovely sunset from the bluff above the lodge.

But we did venture out for many adventures. Kayaking, twice. To the nearby beach once. On a picnic to a further island, during which we sighted seals and oyster catchers, and a thrilling, bumpy ride over the waves to even further islands another day, where our group saw a humpback whale, among other things (thanks to the keen eye of our guide/lodge owner Russ).

It was our special privilege one day to be spirited down a spongy, magical rain forest trail to the archeological site of the traditional summer home of a local First Nations community, the Huu-ay-aht. Our guide, Qiic Qiica (aka Keats), not only related the story of the remnants of the buildings, but drummed and sang for us, and his young niece danced, while we perched on rocks on the gorgeous isolated beach near the settlement.

When our four days were up, and we had to face the long trip home, it was quite traumatic. We certainly didn’t want to leave. A week after departing, we are still expressing wonder and gratitude on our text chain. Experiences like this don’t just happen, so we all thank the staff and co-owners of the lodge for making this such a memorable one. (Read about some of them here.) We also have to profusely thank Dorey’s friend and lodge co-owner Becca for all she did to make this trip so special. And of course Becca and Russ’s son, Dylan (who is wise beyond his years but as delightful as any eight year old boy at the same time.) And Simon, who seemed to be everywhere doing everything, from helping in the kitchen, to guiding our kayak expeditions, to dredging up sea cucumbers and sea urchins for our inspection.

It’s hard to pick just a few photos to try to sum up our time in Bamfield, but here’s an attempt. If you ever have a chance to travel to Outer Shores or some other similar destination (I’m sure there are some out there, though we think this was the best ever!), jump on it, even if you have doubts.

An informative sign about the small hamlet of Bamfield greeted us at the dock after our two-hour van ride over the mountains and through the woods. (Several people said it reminded them in many ways of the town depicted in the by-gone tv show, Northern Exposure, but in a good way.)

When we asked friends for advice of what to see in Stockholm, just about everyone suggested the Vasa Museum. Much more than “a museum with a really big ship” (paraphrasing one of my friends), it is a museum with a REALLY big ship (four stories high and about 2/3 as long as a football field) as its centerpiece, and lots of interesting interpretation about the ship’s origins and how it got into the museum.

Basically, this towering war ship was built in the early 1620s to show off the prowess of the Swedish king, Gustav II Adolph. It was elaborately carved and painted, fit out with 64 cannon ports, and could accommodate 130 crew members and 300 soldiers. The problem is, it was not particularly seaworthy, and sunk on its maiden voyage in the Stockholm harbor, within sight of its launching dock.

There it lay, 105 feet below, settling further and further into the mud, until some enterprising individuals in the late 1950s finally conquered the technology to bring it up and stabilize the old wood so it wouldn’t crumble into bits. At the museum, side galleries with the story of this incredible endeavor, as well as galleries exploring the building of the ship and life around the docks in the 1600s, and lots more, garnish the ship itself. But, let’s face it, the sheer bulk and remarkable (relative) state of preservation of the behemoth are the big draw. I would definitely echo the advice of our friends and urge you to put this on your itinerary should you find yourself in Stockholm.

The second ship museum we visited is a short train ride from Copenhagen. This is not a “Viking Museum” per se, but rather a museum housing the iron and (some) wood skeletons of five ships of various sizes from the Viking era. These five ships explain a lot about the day to day life of those times (circa 800-1050 BC). Vikings, many people assume, were just a bunch of rowdy marauders who sailed around plundering other people’s fortunes.

Well, there was actually some of that, but as the ships reveal, not all Viking boats were used for sea-going treasure seeking. There is a small and larger war ship, but also ships used for local travel and ferrying merchandise to market. These ships had served their purposes, and were deliberately sunk in a channel of the fjord (not one of those dramatic fjords like the ones in Norway, but a very pretty body of water with land on three sides anyway) to deter enemy ships from attacking the town.

Like the Vasa, the Viking ships of Roskilde were brought up and preserved. Unlike the Vasa, they were in much shallower water (and also a lot smaller and lighter), and the recovery team was able to build a sort of dam all around the site, pumped out the water, and what was left of the ships emerged from their watery graves. Very cool, and explained in detail in one gallery of the museum.

Having accomplished all sorts of tests on the remaining wood, the scientisits working on the project found that one ship had actually been built in Dublin, Ireland. (Now I understand why there are so many red haired Irish people!?) They built a replica of the ship, and sailed it to Ireland. The ship, and other replicas, reside at the docks of the museum and now you, too, can “play Viking” and help propel this and another replica around the fjord via sails and oars. (We opted out of this activity!) The museum grounds also include boat building and rope making shops.

I must also report that there is a very amazingly imposing cathedral in Roskilde, full of ornate tombs of various Danish royalty. The downtown has some great eating options, (including an Indian restaurant we treated ourselves to). So, this small city makes a great day trip from Copenhagen.

Two museums in two Nordic countries, lots of history represented in their ships. Check them out in some photos below, and visit them if you go on some Nordic Adventures of your own.

On our first full day in Helsinki, our “local guide” (my old friend Carolyn, who knows the city well after living there for many months) pointed out the gray hulk of an island, Suomenlinna, visible from the harbor. After we sampled some reindeer meatballs from one of the food stalls in the lively market, we hopped on a ferry to visit the former fortress.

It’s a short boat ride, but a different world from the city bustle at this UNESCO World Heritage site, which is actually spread over several islands and countless buildings. One is a church which, during Russian occupation, was Eastern Orthodox but morphed into Lutheran in the early 1900s when the Finns took over. It’s now a popular wedding destination, and several well dressed guests headed for just such an occasion got off the boat with us.

After negotiating a somewhat confusing map, we found our along the cobblestones, past the church and to one of several museums on the grounds. The tangled history of the island unfolded through artifacts, videos and fun interactives. After absorbing as much as our still slightly jet lagged minds could, we got back outside to explore more of the islands.

Traversing the Great Courtyard, paying homage to the grant ship-shaped tomb of Augustin Ehrenvard, who is credited with the design of the fortress and other feats, we ventured out to the ramparts to take in the sweeping views of the buildings and the Helsinki harbor.

On our way back to the ferry, throughly worn out by walking only a fraction of the fortress, we stopped to admire the scale of the working dry dock, built in the 1750s and today used to repair wooden sailing ships. Yes, Suomenlinna is not just a tourist attraction, it’s a working shipyard, and also home to about 800 full-time residents.

On the return boat trip, perched at the upper deck to admire the view, it started aggressively drizzling and the wind whipped up. No one (including the well dressed wedding goers returning back to the city) made a run for the sheltered lower decks. This is when Carolyn introduced us to the Finnish concept of sisu, roughly translated as “toughing it out.” (I found this concept applicable while icing down my aching knees that night.)

The next day, we took a bus, train and taxi to another, quite different, complex of repurposed buildings at Fiskars Village. Fiskars may ring a bell as a very popular brand of scissors (the ones with the orange handles). Established as an industrial complex in 1649, today Fiskars has been reimagined as a home to a number of artists workshops, a museum in the old business offices, several nice cafes, and of course a very extensive shop carrying every type of Fiskars products one can imagine. (You can also live there if you want to “join a creative community and settle down in this unique and inspiring village.”)

Not sure if our collective map reading skills are defective or it’s just that Finnish tourist maps in general are hard to decipher, but it took us awhile to get oriented. We finally found sustenance to fortify our visit at one of the cafes (substantial open faced roast vegetable and toasted sandwiches) and set off for the museum.

There, we learned, among other things, that there was quite a struggle by local politicians and officials to get the project of converting Fiskars Village into an artist colony and tourist destination off the ground. Luckily, they succeeded.

Hours later, after locating the blacksmiths and glass blowing shops, admiring the brickwork of the many buildings, tracing the creek that provided water power, poking around in several other artists’ shops, and dodging a thunderstorm, we just barely procured a taxi back to the train station in time to catch our ride back to the city. (Note, visits to Fiskars seem much more geared toward car travel than public transportation.)

Two destinations, two very different histories, one aim to repurpose historic sites and keep heritage alive. Hats off to those who had the sisu to make this possible for visitors from around the world. Here are some images of the two sites with some further explanations.

Do all families have a “signature cake”? I suspect many do. Ours, going into its third generation, is a sour cream coffee cake with nuts, which is equally good for breakfast, a mid-morning or afternoon snack, or for dessert. It’s buttery, cinnamony, and just totally delicious. It is known by the name “Jewish Nut Ring” in our family, although we are not Jewish, and I think that my mother got the recipe from a women’s magazine, probably sometime in the 1950s. Our recipe is very much like this one but we would never, NEVER add raisins or chocolate chips as suggested here, and ours includes walnuts, not pecans, and involves pouring melted butter on top before baking. My mom had a special round pan for this (now my sister has it), but I found a suitable one years ago at a yard sale for just this purpose.

Do all families also have signature birthday cakes? I know many who do. My sister’s was a white cake, baked in a rectangular baking dish, split in half and spread with apricot jam, reassembled and coated generously with whipped cream. I think it fell out of favor some time ago. Mine is a keeper – the Chocolate Pinwheel Cake, very much like this one, which has been tracked down to a 1954 recipe “courtesy of Baker’s Chocolate and Carnation Evaporated Milk,” two of the main ingredients. So, though I never asked her about it, is likely to stem from my mom browsing through those women’s mags again.

Our version, passed down through a series of hand-written recipe cards and pieces of dog-eared note paper, has an important difference from the above recipe, in that the filling has a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of instant coffee instead of more chocolate. And, really, more chocolate is not what is needed in this cake. Swirling an unadulterated, and almost obscene, amount of pure melted semi-sweet chocolate into the batter to make the “pinwheel” design is the key methodology. When it cools, it forms an intense, crunchy chocolate orgy, which is offset somewhat by the fluffy, not too sweet mocha filling.

Various other cakes have come and gone, witnessed by this little parade of photos, but these are the two with the most memories and staying power. It’s no wonder, as they are delicious, but also evoke special times in the kitchen and at the table, sharing sweet moments bite by bite. I’d love to hear about other cake memories!

The best way to share this kaleidoscope of colors, mixtures, and marvels is through photos with captions. And so, enjoy, and think about the plants in your sphere, some of which you might be overlooking or taking for granted in your daily life or far-flung adventures.

Apparently the English “noodle” comes from the German “nudel” in case you’re interested. The word “noodles” conjures up comfort in my mind. Generously buttered and salted egg noodles were always the go-to food in our family when tummies were upset, or one was just feeling down. My sister and I still like to eat any kind of leftover buttered noodles for breakfast, even when we are happy. (Despite the possible guilt brought on by the calories, and sodium and cholesterol bomb.)

I recall one of my first encounters with a noodle that was not buttered or smothered in a vaguely Italian tomato-based sauce. (I’m looking at you, Chef Boyardee…and also remembering my mother’s signature canned tomato-soup, bacon and bell pepper spaghetti sauce recipe.) I was maybe about six or seven, and our family was having a rare meal out, at a Chinese restaurant in Patterson, New Jersey. I demanded spaghetti.

No amount of the grown-ups trying to explain that “Chinese people did not eat spaghetti” would console me. I had to have spaghetti; nothing else would do. And so, the waiter, who knew perfectly well that “Chinese people” might not call it spaghetti but certainly did eat noodles, brought something that was, well, not spaghetti but was definitely in the noodle family. Lo mein maybe? Wish I could say it was a big hit with me, but I think someone else had to eat it.

Fast forward to international cuisine opening to me like the beautiful flower it is. My personal awakening involving various noodle dishes thankfully got better as I got older. I recall the first time the amazing world of Vietnamese pho was revealed to me, back around 1990 when visiting my colleague Lynn in Hawaii. (Then the state folk arts coordinator of Hawaii, but later to become my friend and confidant when she moved to the same position in New Hampshire, and we conspired in the co-curation of the 1999 New Hampshire program… but that is another story entirely.)

I almost cried out to my huge bowl of noodles, swimming together in fragrant broth with its compatriots of lean beef, Thai basil, and bean sprouts – “Where have you been all my life?” Well, maybe I’m being dramatic, but still. It was truly life-changing. Move over, buttered noodles, there’s another crave-worthy comfort food in town.

Today, as for many years, the homemade noodles and dumplings at Chinatown Express in what is left of downtown DC’s Chinatown is the go-to for cheap and authentic eats. Many an intern has been introduced to this modest, no-frills establishment on 6th Street, and it is a de rigueur outing for my daughter and I whenever she visits DC. I even convinced our office to order a boatload of dumplings and noodles from there for our holiday party this past year. I should be getting a commission?!

Our new family favorite at the Vietnamese complex, The Eden Center (usually where we go for pho because you can just throw a lime wedge in any direction and hit a place serving pho there) is actually a tiny Thai Street Food joint, Kao Sarn. Their noodle soups will bring back the memory of eating at any small partially outdoor stall in Bangkok or Chiang Mai by anyone who has visited Thailand and experienced “real street food. ” (Well, except for the price, but then you don’t have to fly half way across the globe to eat here if you’re a local, so there’s that.)

In short, there’s a whole world of noodles out there to conquer, and while nowadays I am partial to Asian noodle dishes, despite my childhood encounter with “Chinese spaghetti,” I have absolutely nothing against attacking noodles and noodle-adjacent dishes of all shapes, sizes, sauces, and cultural origins with gusto. Pierogies, halushki, ravioli, wagon wheels, seashells, carbonara, momos, spaetzle, ramen, udon, soba… the list is inexhaustible.

Hungry yet? If not, these photos of various noodle experiences will surely put you over the edge. Go forth, eat noodles, and be comforted.