I had come to South Walton for the rare lakes and the good beer. The plan was to experience them separately. But plans aren’t of much use in a place like South Walton. And liquid travels the path of one who can’t resist, (or something like that).
It was a calm morning at Gwang-An Beach when I launched my paddleboard into the absence of surf. Since the winds were down and swells small, I paddled away from the beach, which was enclosed by skyscrapers and mountains now blocked by the buildings. The long bridge across Busan straddled the bay and I made the twenty-minute trip to one of the concrete blocks serving as a support. Read more
Eight meters of kite was tethered from my waist and I watched as it surfed the zenith. I punched left and maneuvered the kite toward nine o’clock, where palm fronds grabbed for my lines. So I punched right and brought the parachute back toward nine, just over the turquoise seas that ran toward Cape Moule a Chique and the pair of protected Maria Islands off the southern edge of St. Lucia.
My day began with a bad hotel breakfast in the city. Runny eggs, tasteless pancakes, and pulverized fruit. I got into my car and drove east to the mountains, just a 45-minute drive from downtown Quebec City. The St. Lawrence River on my right; its chop was frozen in the surface like glassed swells. Read more
Mont Tremblant is one of the best ski resorts in the eastern half of North America; there’s no secret there. But the mountain and village have overlooked offerings that can serve as respites from the slopes, provide activities for the kids, or offer diverse adventures. But if you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll wind up experiencing overpriced crap, sort of like that bowl of chili pictured above.