The January Newsletter Now Available at ActiveTravels.com

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action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/activetravels/public_html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6114My brother Jim and I sit atop a narrow bamboo raft as our guide, Desmond, easily navigates the s-curves on Jamaica’s Great River. We listen to the high-pitched call of the yellow banana quit bird as we float under a green mosaic of ferns, banana trees, and thickets of bamboo that climb the banks of this sinuous waterway like ivy climbs a wall. Occasionally we pass other guides, Rastamen with long dreadlocks, walking their raft back upstream which can take an hour or longer. To pass the time, they sing spirituals. I’ve been to Jamaica more than a half-dozen times in the past decade and running the rivers is my favorite pastime away from the beach. Whether riding a tube down the White River under a canopy of green or rafting on the Rio Grande River, which starts in the mountains behind the town of Port Antonio, this is the Jamaica I think of when Bob Marley sings the refrain from his song, Three Little Birds. “Don’t worry about a thing, because every little thing gonna be all right.”
Cape Cod is so close to Boston that I often drive there on a day trip, which is exactly what we did yesterday to meet my cousin, Peter, and his family in town from Dallas. I took them on a ride we do each summer. We start on Main Street in Orleans in the lot next to Orleans Cycle and head out on the Cape Cod Rail Trail toward Eastham. Soon we pass the velvety marsh, where red-winged blackbirds sit atop the swaying cattails and cormorants dry their wings on floating docks. At Locust Road, we veer right off the CCRT and cross over Route 6 to reach the Cape Cod National Seashore Visitor Center. This is the start of a 2-mile bike trails that sweeps up and down through the forest and marsh, leaving you off at Coast Guard Beach, recently named one of the top 10 beaches in America. However, I think the beach up the road, Nauset Light, is even more scenic, backed by towering dunes. We lock up our bikes and walk down to the sweeping beach. Yesterday, there was at least 20 seals popping their heads out of the surf.
Just up the road from Montreal, 30 minutes outside of Quebec City, is North America’s first ice hotel, Hotel de Glace. 32 new rooms are created each year out of 12,000 tons of snow and 400 tons of ice, along with an Absolut ice bar, Jacuzzis, and a dance club. Bring those long johns. Temperature inside is a mere 27 degrees Fahrenheit. Quebec City is also home to one of the finest winter carnivals. For 16 days, January 27-February 12, the party never stops. More than one million people descend upon the fortified city to cheer on the competition in Le Grande Virée, a dogsled race that cruises through the heart of the historic Old City, or watch paddlers sprint across the turgid waters of the St. Lawrence Seaway. The French-flavored festivities continue with tours of the Ice Palace, a giant medieval castle constructed of pure crystalline water, parades, snow sculpture contests, inner tube sled rides, dancing to live music, and late night jaunts to heated tents to sample the potent drink called Caribou, made of whiskey, red wine, and maple syrup. One swig of this and you might be running naked through the snowfields.
Having just returned from Switzerland last night, I have to admit that the Backroads trip my family was just on was as close to perfection as it gets in the world of travel. It wasn’t merely the stunning Alps scenery around every bend or the two exceptional group leaders, Agata and Gosia, who led the 6-day jaunt seamlessly with a confident dose of professionalism and buoyant personalities. The families on this trip were wonderful, all yearning for a dose of adventure to celebrate a momentous occasion like a son or daughter soon leaving for their first year of college. After a week of hiking, biking, and kayaking together, swapping anecdotes about our lives, I consider them all friends. But the real reason I think this trip excelled was the itinerary. I’ve been on two other Backroads trips, biking around the Big Island and a multisport trip to Costa Rica, and spent far too much time in shuttles or transfers to the next destination. Switzerland, especially the Swiss Alps, is blessed with an intricate network of trains, gondolas, and ferries that can connect with endless opportunities for high adventure right outside your hotel doorstep. You never have to travel far.
“Heave Ho!” went the cry as all hands pulled down on a thick rope to haul up the mainsail. “Heave Ho!” the crew chanted again and the schooner headed upwind, all sails gleaming white against a cloudless blue sky. The Captain took the wheel as the boat quickly gained momentum passing another anonymous island crowned with pines and rimmed with the ubiquitous Maine granite. Behind us was the vast expanse of the Atlantic, dotted with multi-colored lobster buoys and lined with the only mountains on the coast north of Brazil. The crew were passengers from around America and Europe who delighted in the chance to hoist the sails, bilge the pump, even take a turn at the wheel sailing this big boy.