Top 10 Dog-Friendly Destinations You’ll Both Love

Traveling solo with your dog is one of the most rewarding ways to explore new places — the freedom to roam, the joy of companionship and the chance to discover hidden gems that welcome both you and your furry friend. Over the years, Jackson and I have explored some incredible dog-friendly spots, mostly in California, where landscapes and communities embrace the bond between humans and pups. Here are my top destinations for solo dog travelers craving adventure, relaxation and connection.

🌵 Southern California & Desert Magic

Ojai, California — Artistic Vibes and Trails at Your Doorstep
Ojai Rancho Inn is a dog-friendly gem with a beautiful garden perfect for pup relief and a scenic trail right behind the property. It’s a welcoming spot where you and your dog can enjoy peaceful walks and artistic small-town charm.
Stay: Ojai Rancho Inn — Cozy, welcoming, and perfectly placed for exploring local dog-friendly trails.

Joshua Tree National Park — Desert Nights & Starry Skies
While dogs aren’t allowed on official hiking trails inside Joshua Tree National Park, the surrounding desert camping areas offer peaceful retreats perfect for solo travelers and their dogs. Jackson and I cherished nights under California’s clearest skies, with stars shimmering like diamonds overhead.
Stay: Airbnb desert retreat — Perfect base for exploring.

🌊 Coastal California: Mendocino to Carmel

Howard Creek Ranch, Mendocino Coast — Rugged Beauty & Seaside Freedom
Tucked away on the remote Northern California coast, Howard Creek Ranch is a magical, historic inn set on sprawling acres of meadows, creeks, and private beach access. Jackson and I wandered along windswept bluffs, crossed quaint wooden bridges, and fell asleep to the sound of crashing waves. Dogs are treated like part of the family here — welcome in rooms, on trails, and even at the breakfast table if you sit outside.
Stay: Howard Creek Ranch Inn — Rustic and dog-friendly, with direct access to trails, beaches, and wild Mendocino beauty.

Mendocino — Coastal Charm and Clifftop Trails
This peaceful Northern California town blends pristine coastline, quaint architecture and dog-friendly walks atop windswept headlands. Mendocino is a calming retreat for solo travelers seeking solace and companionship. It is also the proxy for Cabot Cove, as featured in Murder, She Wrote.
Stay: Nicholson House — Charming historic inn with dog-friendly rooms and close proximity to walking trails.

Tomales Bay — Nick’s Cove, Coastal Cottage with a Ghostly Vibe
Perched atop the water in a rustic cottage, Jackson and I felt like we were gently floating — more boat than bungalow. The surrounding area was famously featured in the supernatural film The Fog, and staying here puts you within easy reach of exploring Point Reyes’ windswept charm. It’s an ideal hideaway for dog lovers drawn to nature, mystery and the quiet beauty of the Northern California coast.
Stay: Nick’s Cove Cottages — Dog-friendly cottages right on the water.

Half Moon Bay — Vintage Airstream and Ocean Views
For a unique stay, try a vintage Airstream perched on a rugged bluff overlooking the wild California coast. This serene spot welcomed Jackson with open arms, offering sweeping ocean views and refreshing sea air. It’s an ideal getaway on a private 9-acre plot for reflection and rejuvenation with your pup.
Stay: Airbnb Airstream

Carmel-by-the-Sea — Beachside Bliss for Dogs and Humans
Carmel’s legendary white-sand dog beach is pure bliss. Jackson could run free, splash in the surf, and soak in endless coastal beauty. The town itself is incredibly dog-friendly — many hotels, restaurants, and shops welcome pups with open arms. Strolling through quaint streets feels like stepping into a storybook, with your dog happily by your side.
Stay: Green Lantern Inn — Steps from the beach with a warm welcome for dogs.

🌲 Northern California & Mountain Escapes

Sonora, California — Friendly Town, Giant Trees
This Gold Rush–era town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada offers small-town charm, dog-friendly streets, and a gateway to one of California’s most underrated natural wonders: Calaveras Big Trees State Park. Standing beneath ancient sequoias with your dog by your side is a soul-stirring experience — a majestic link to Earth’s prehistoric past. The townsfolk are warm, the pace is slow and the natural surroundings unforgettable.
Stay: Hotel Lumberjack — reimagined vintage motel located in the center of town—and just over an hour’s drive from Yosemite.

Dunsmuir, California — The Hidden Gem for Outdoor Lovers
Nestled in Northern California’s Shasta Cascade region, Dunsmuir is a paradise for dog lovers who crave fresh air and peaceful mountain vibes. We loved hiking the Sacramento River Trail, breathing in crisp pine-scented air, and watching the river shimmer beside us. The town itself is charming and laid-back, with local cafés welcoming well-behaved dogs. Bonus: Nearby Mossbrae Falls is a magical, off-the-beaten-path waterfall accessible via a scenic railway trek — perfect for adventurous pups (though not without some risk).
Stay: Cave Springs Resort — A dog-friendly historic resort right by the Sacramento River, offering cozy cabins and easy access to trails.

🏝️ Pacific Northwest Bonus: Whidbey Island

Captain Whidbey, Whidbey Island — Historic Charm & Island Serenity
Located in Coupeville, Washington, Captain Whidbey is a historic inn nestled among old-growth firs on the shores of Whidbey Island. The property offers dog-friendly cabins, allowing you to bring your pup along for the adventure. Enjoy serene walks along the waterfront and explore the island's natural beauty together.
Stay: Captain Whidbey Filson Cabin

Top 10 Cinematic Road Trips

There’s a rare kind of alchemy in visiting the places where our favourite films and TV shows unfolded — an intangible energy that draws you in, inviting a walk in the footsteps of storytelling itself. Over the past decade, I’ve pursued such cinematic pilgrimages across the United States, traversing haunted hotels, windswept coastlines and ancient canyons. Here are ten unforgettable road trips that brought beloved stories to life.

1. Estes Park, Colorado — The Shining

The Stanley Hotel’s grand, ghostly halls remain an enduring muse for Stephen King’s classic tale of psychological suspense. Roaming its corridors, you can almost hear the echoes of Jack Torrance’s chilling descent, where history and horror entwine.

2. Mendocino, California — Murder, She Wrote

Nestled on the northern California coast, Mendocino perfectly channels the fictional Cabot Cove’s quaint charm and subtle mystery. Wandering its streets, I could also imagine Jessica Fletcher cycling by.

3. Genoa, Nevada — Misery

This unassuming town’s rugged character was the unsettling backdrop to Misery. Standing amidst its quiet streets, the story’s tension feels tangible, lending a thrilling edge to the journey. "I'm your number one fan.”

4. Lake Tahoe — A Place in the Sun

A serene retreat, Secret Cove’s crystalline waters and alpine stillness provided a contemplative pause, a natural setting steeped in the quiet drama of this timeless romance.

5. Cambria, California — Arachnophobia

Cambria’s fog-kissed coastline and misty mornings conjure an eerie mood, perfectly suited to this suspenseful thriller. Here, nature’s beauty meets a subtle frisson of unease.

6. Fern Canyon, Prairie Creek Redwoods, California — Jurassic Park 2

Towering walls cloaked in moss and ferns rise forty feet above — a living, breathing prehistoric set. Walking Fern Canyon is a step back to the age of dinosaurs, immortalised on film.

7. Twede’s Café, Twin Peaks, Washington

At Twede’s Café, every detail — from the classic diner booths to the aroma of fresh coffee — evokes David Lynch’s surreal universe. A sip here is a sip of television history.

8. Astoria, Oregon — The Goonies

Astoria’s iconic house and nearby Cannon Beach brim with 1980s nostalgia. Recreating scenes from The Goonies felt like reclaiming a moment of childhood wonder.

9. Martha’s Vineyard — Jaws

From the stillness of the pond to the windswept dunes and lighthouse perched on the cliffs at Aquinnah, the island carries the quiet residue of cinematic suspense. You can still drive onto the Chappaquiddick Ferry, just as Chief Brody once did.

10. Moab, Utah — Thelma & Louise

Canyonlands’ dramatic cliffs offered a breathtaking vantage point for Thelma & Louise’s final, unforgettable leap. Here, raw nature and cinematic legend converge.

Bearing Witness at PCH – A Landscape Erased

Today marks the long-anticipated reopening of the Pacific Coast Highway. Just before 8 a.m., we arrived at the Topanga checkpoint, eager to make the familiar descent to the sea. The fire-scorched canyon greeted us in full spring regalia—lush, vivid, almost defiantly alive. Its vertiginous cliffs stood clad in green, shrouded in morning mist and studded with wildflowers that caught the sun like tiny, glinting jewels. Orange poppies, yellow mustard, violet lupine and pink snapdragons—the darling buds of May. A quiet reminder that nature, in time, heals all things.

But the illusion dissolved at sea level.

At the shoreline, the devastation was total. Ruined neighborhoods. Whole communities wiped off the map. Where there had once been homes and the quiet choreography of coastal life, there was now only absence: buckled foundations, twisted rebar, the charred skeletons of cars. The silence was profound. Loss hung in the air like ash.

This loss reaches beyond structures; it’s the erasure of history—the whimsical, fairy-tale charm of the “sand castles” along PCH, the weathered shacks, characterful restaurants and vintage landmarks that once made the city feel enchanted. What’s gone are not just buildings but cultural DNA.

Nearly 30,000 acres reduced to cinders. 13,000 homes lost. More than 380,000 people evacuated—greater than the population of a mid-sized American city. The numbers are staggering. And yet, Los Angeles has always been a city of second chances. A sanctuary for the restless and the exiled, a haven for creative black sheep—for those who come here not just to live but to reinvent themselves.

Joan Didion once wrote that Los Angeles lives under “the weather of catastrophe.” She understood, intuitively, what we are forced to confront again and again: that in this place, disruption is not the exception, but the norm. And yet, amidst the smoke and ruin, there were moments of grace—fire crews who stood their ground, pilots who flew through flame, neighbours who shared water, comfort and silence.

Driving the reopened highway home this morning, I did not feel elated. I felt sober. Grateful, yes—but mostly weighted by the knowledge of what’s been lost. This remains a remarkable place: beautiful, contradictory, rich in history and heartbreak.

The "For Sale" signs now peppering Topanga suggest that others, too, have made quiet calculations. Although the equal amount of “Sold” signs indicates that the love for this place hasn’t vanished. But it has changed. It has grown wary, conditional—less romantic, more clear-eyed.

This is still a land of dreams. But dreams, too, must be maintained—and perhaps now, reimagined. Malibu’s beauty endures, but it is edged with the sobering truth: this stretch of coastline, possibly one of the most iconic in the world, will never be the same again.

Postcard from St. Augustine

Here in St. Augustine — America’s oldest city, founded by the Spanish in 1565 — history leaves its trace on every sunworn coquina wall and shaded courtyard. It drifts on a jasmine-scented breeze, threads through old brick streets and lingers in the rhythm of local storytelling.

Listening to the guides, a quiet theme emerges. The British era (1763–1783) is often handled with a light, almost affectionate irony. Some refer to it as an "occupation," framing the Spanish settlers as native sons and daughters despite their own colonial roots — a reminder that every layer of history here is more intricate and more human than a simple timeline suggests.

The British chapter, though sometimes treated as a footnote, left a lasting mark. Inheriting a city of crumbling Spanish structures, the British reinforced, reimagined and formalized it, bringing with them a sense of tidy order rooted in colonial ideals.

During the 1702 Siege of St. Augustine, British forces and their Native American allies fought together against Spanish rule. In that moment, alliances were pragmatic rather than ideological — Native nations choosing between colonial powers based on the futures they foresaw. The British, favoring trade and loose alliances over cultural domination, offered a different calculus than the Spanish, whose mission system aimed to reshape indigenous lives entirely.

Walking along St. George Street — named for England’s patron saint — it’s easy to sense these overlapping influences. And in the late 19th century, another transformation unfolded: the arrival of Henry Flagler, the railroad magnate who reimagined St. Augustine as a winter retreat for America’s Gilded Age elite. Flagler’s vision polished the city into a new kind of jewel, layering grand hotels and glamorous boulevards atop centuries of earlier life.

Today, visitors can still wander past Flagler’s enduring landmarks, from the former Ponce de León Hotel — now Flagler College — to the ornate Casa Monica Hotel. Nearby, the Governor’s House, once a seat of Spanish, British and American power, offers a further glimpse into the city’s layered past. Even the Old Plaza, where croquet matches once played out under shifting flags, hums with history.

Here, the past isn’t a closed chapter. It’s a living palimpsest — a testament to resilience, reinvention and the quiet charm of a city that tells a uniquely American story.

Moonlight and Magnolias: How the South Was Repackaged

In the years after the Civil War, the American South lay in ruin. But by the 1870s, a curious transformation was underway—not from within, but from outside. A new image emerged, crafted not by former Confederates but by Northern industrialists chasing not industry, but fantasy.

Before the Romance: The British Blueprint

Long before verandas and juleps entered the frame, Major William Horton came ashore on Jekyll Island in the 1730s. A British officer under General James Oglethorpe, founder of the Georgia colony, Horton established one of the region’s earliest plantations. The tabby ruins of his estate still stand: unembellished, unromantic. Horton laid a template for those who would later see the coastal lowlands not as wilderness, but as canvas—for profit and pleasure.

From Ruin to Romance

By the late 19th century, the symbols of collapse—crumbling columns, ivy-choked ruins, moss-draped oaks—had been recast as emblems of a genteel past. The plantation aesthetic was quietly co-opted. On Jekyll Island, the Clubhouse wasn’t a plantation—just styled like one. The land’s story wasn’t erased; it was artfully edited. A stage set for Northern elites chasing charm, not context.

Barely twenty years after a war that split the nation in two, luxury resorts were rising on Southern soil. The speed was striking—but so was the selective memory. Within a generation, the South’s bruises had become backdrops for bridge games and oyster roasts. What had been fields of conflict were now curated lawns. Nostalgia proved more bankable than reckoning.

A Gilded Age Stage Set

Opened in 1888, the Jekyll Island Clubhouse offered more than warmth and seclusion. It offered narrative. Beneath the oaks, tycoons arrived by yacht and private railcar. The so-called “cottages”—mansions in all but name—belonged to the Cranes, the Rockefellers, the Vanderbilts. Membership never exceeded 100, and the island thrived as a private playground until World War II brought the idyll to a close—though not before it hosted the secret 1910 meeting that helped shape what would become the Federal Reserve.

Servants moved like shadows. Conversations drifted from bridge to business. Leisure masked legacy-building. Wealth was managed quietly, and always with taste. The tabby ruins and overgrown rice fields offered atmosphere—a vibe. The past became palatable: a soft-focus antebellum fantasy, carefully tailored for the Gilded Age.

When Steamboats Ruled Florida's Fabled Waterways

Once upon a time, long before theme parks and high-rise condos, Florida was a vast, untamed wilderness. Dense forests dripped with Spanish moss, wild rivers wound their way through unbroken swamps and adventure lay waiting around every bend. This was the Florida of forgotten legend — a place where daring travelers boarded creaking wooden steamboats to explore the unknown.

After Florida became a U.S. territory in 1821, paddlewheel steamboats soon began to dominate its waterways. By the mid-1800s, they ruled Florida’s greatest highway, the mighty St. Johns River, and a new era of exploration was born.

The St. Johns River: Pathway to the Wild

Flowing 310 miles northward, the St. Johns River was the main artery into Florida’s interior — a land still more swamp and forest than settlement. From the bustling docks of Jacksonville to the far reaches of Sanford, steamboats ferried dreamers, explorers and fortune-seekers into the unknown.

For a century, more than 150 steamers plied these waters, carrying not just cargo and mail but the spirit of adventure itself. With 38 stops along the way, the journey was as much about survival and discovery as it was about transport.

Palatka: Florida’s Last Frontier Town

In those days, Palatka wasn’t just a stop — it was the very edge of the map. Known as the "Gem City of the St. Johns," Palatka was a bustling outpost where civilization thinned and wilderness took over. Here, massive paddlewheelers lined the docks, unloading crates of citrus and winter vegetables and taking on daring passengers headed deeper into the heart of wild Florida.

It was from Palatka that the bravest travelers boarded smaller steamers bound for the Ocklawaha River — one of the most fabled waterways of old Florida.

The Ocklawaha River: Into the Heart of Darkness

The Ocklawaha was no easy river. Narrow, winding and overgrown, it dared captains to tame it. Snags and stumps hid beneath its mirrored surface. Floating islands of hyacinth clogged its channels. Vines brushed against the decks, and snakes sometimes dropped from the trees overhead.

But for those who dared, the rewards were unforgettable: a 24-hour odyssey through a primeval Eden. Cypress trees towered overhead, their roots submerged in still, tea-colored waters. Alligators sunned themselves on muddy banks. Deer, wild hogs and brilliant birds flashed between the shadows.

There were no guidebooks, no maps — only the river and what lay beyond the next bend.

Life Afloat: Rough Luxury on the River

Steamboat life was a strange mixture of hardship and luxury. Staterooms were tiny but comfortable, with simple beds and washstands. Meals were hearty affairs, served in grand saloons lit by flickering torches. By night, music, card games and tall tales filled the air — along with warnings of riverboat gamblers and other shady characters.

For many, a steamboat journey was the adventure of a lifetime — a brush with a Florida that still belonged to the wild.

The Great Floating Palaces

Among the most magnificent vessels were the City of Jacksonville and the Hiawatha.

• City of Jacksonville (1882–1928): A 160-foot floating palace with 32 staterooms and electric lights, it carried travelers through the wilderness in style.

• Hiawatha (1904–1919): Smaller but nimble, she was built in Palatka to brave the narrow, dangerous Ocklawaha, carrying 80 passengers into the very heart of old Florida.

The End of the Dream

By the late 1800s, the iron rails of the railroad crept across Florida. By the 1920s, automobiles roared down new highways. The days of the steamboat adventure faded into memory. By 1930, the great paddlewheelers were all but gone.

But if you listen closely along the quiet banks of the St. Johns, or drift under the ghostly cypress of the Ocklawaha, you can still hear the distant echo of a whistle, the churning of a paddlewheel and the whispers of a forgotten Florida — a time when wild forests ruled, and every journey was a grand adventure into the unknown.

Postcard from Hardy's Wessex

In rural Dorset, near the small village of Higher Bockhampton, is an almost impossibly perfect thatched cottage, surrounded by a typical cottage garden and mature, towering woodland. It looks exactly how you would imagine a thatched cottage should look; small and rustic with irregular outbuildings, little windows tucked up in the eaves of the thatch, chimneys sprouting through the roof and creepers growing haphazardly over a central front door. This cottage is the birthplace of Thomas Hardy. Born in 1840, he lived here until he was 34, during which time he wrote Far from the Madding Crowd (1874), among other works.

The English mentality makes perfect sense once you’ve stood still in a country garden. It’s not like France, where everything is clipped, preened and formally arranged into polite symmetry. Here in the rolling Wessex countryside, I find myself inside what feels like a yew-hedged compound — but the hedges aren’t meant to exclude so much as to create little pockets of privacy, soft boundaries rather than hard walls.

The garden here isn’t laid out in grand beds or regimented borders. Instead, it’s an "organized mess" — a layered, lived-in tangle. Bluebells and daisies erupt straight from the earth, no one tells them where to go, and the garden seems to politely agree. Everything is both contained and wild at the same time, as if nature and human intention reached a quiet handshake.

That, I think, is the soft power of the English country garden: it offers freedom, but within subtle boundaries. Nothing shouts, but everything whispers. The English mind, too, seems to value this — an affection for the understated, for imperfection, for gentle order without overbearing control. It’s the kind of place that makes you understand the nation without a single conversation.

Postcard from Mendocino

Tucked along Northern California’s rugged coastline, Mendocino offers a striking balance between natural beauty, historic charm and understated luxury. This coastal enclave, with its misty headlands and crashing waves, is perhaps best known for doubling as Cabot Cove in Murder, She Wrote. During winter, the fog that rolls in from the ocean lends a uniquely atmospheric quality to the town, where nature and nostalgia seem to coexist seamlessly.

My stay at Nicholson House, a meticulously restored Victorian property, was an embodiment of Mendocino’s duality—where history and modernity meet in a sophisticated yet approachable manner. The boutique hotel, with its reimagined Victorian charm and subtle Art Deco touches, offers an experience that feels both timeless and contemporary.

We stayed in the dog-friendly garden room, which was as cozy as it was elegant. The heated bathroom floors were a welcome luxury, adding a touch of modern comfort to the otherwise old-world ambiance. The owners had also left a handwritten note and a snack for Jackson which was deeply appreciated. 

Outside, the sounds of croaking frogs and the distant crash of waves served as a soothing soundtrack to the untamed beauty that surrounds the property, while the location itself—just a short walk from dramatic clifftop hikes—provides the perfect backdrop for both quiet reflection and exploration.

After an 8-hour drive from Los Angeles, I was welcomed by the warmth of a local pub, where the simple choice between Cornish game hen or ham for dinner was a perfect reflection of Mendocino’s understated charm. We ate our meal back at our lodgings, accompanied by a muted Murder, She Wrote episode playing for the full effect. 

Mendocino, with its blend of natural beauty, history and calm, offers an ideal setting for those looking to slow down, reconnect with nature and embrace a quieter pace of life. At Nicholson House, the seamless fusion of Victorian elegance, Art Deco charm and warm hospitality ensures that this coastal retreat is as welcoming as a hot cup of cocoa on a stormy winter’s night, chez Jessica.

Postcard from Nevada City

In the heart of Nevada City, nestled among the relics of California’s Gold Rush, stands the Powell House, a building that, at first glance, seems to defy convention. Originally built as a Baptist church in the 1850s, its oval porch and bright, cheerful facade are a playful contrast to the somber religious structures more commonly associated with that era. Yet, this exuberant architectural style feels fitting for a town born from the gold-laden optimism of the time.

The Powell House is a striking example of American Victorian architecture, a style that, particularly in the West, took on a life of its own. Unlike the restrained and formal Victorian architecture of mid-19th-century England, where symmetry and muted tones dominated, the American adaptation—especially in California—was far more eclectic and expressive. Here, local materials, a warmer climate, and the hopeful, sometimes chaotic energy of the Gold Rush all played a role in shaping a unique visual language.

While English Victorians sought to evoke the grandeur of Gothic and classical revival styles, with an emphasis on stone, brick, and ornamentation, their American counterparts embraced a more carefree approach. The Powell House, with its gingerbread trim and bold color choices, exemplifies this spirit, as homes and public buildings in the West often flaunted asymmetry and vivid hues. These design choices not only reflected personal expression but also embodied the exuberance of a region on the rise.

Nevada City in the 1850s was a hub of activity, fueled by the hopes of prospectors and settlers looking to strike it rich. That collective optimism infused the community, both spiritually and materially. The Powell House, though built for worship, likely carried the aura of a congregation that saw itself as part of a grander story—one where divine providence and economic fortune went hand in hand. Its joyous architecture seems to reflect the buoyant mood of a town convinced of its own bright future.

In this way, the Powell House is more than just an architectural curiosity. It is a symbol of a unique moment in American history, when faith, ambition and creativity converged in the rush for gold. While its roots lie in the Victorian styles of England, its playful, unreserved character is distinctly American—an ode to the freewheeling optimism of the West.

Postcard from the Ahwahnee Hotel

Since its opening in 1927, this iconic lodge has welcomed luminaries from royalty to world leaders, all drawn to the sublime serenity of the Sierra wilderness. Beyond its storied past, the Ahwahnee holds a special place in pop culture as the architectural muse behind the haunting interior of The Shining's Overlook Hotel.

Designed by architect Gilbert Stanley Underwood, the Ahwahnee’s aesthetic mirrors Yosemite’s rugged elegance. A masterclass in “Parkitecture,” the hotel’s blend of stone, timber, and Native American motifs evokes a seamless connection to the surrounding landscape. Over the decades, it has hosted Queen Elizabeth II, John F. Kennedy and countless others who appreciate its refined wilderness charm.

Though The Shining's exterior scenes were filmed at Oregon's Timberline Lodge, and Stephen King's inspiration came from the Stanley Hotel in Colorado, the Ahwahnee’s interiors informed much of Stanley Kubrick’s visual concept for the fictional Overlook. The Great Lounge, grand lobbies and distinctive Native American-influenced decor became the blueprint for The Shining's eerie grandeur.

The hotel’s vast, cavernous spaces and long, empty corridors perfectly capture the isolation and psychological tension that permeate The Shining. This link between real-world architecture and cinematic terror reveals how design can profoundly shape mood and narrative.

Today, the Ahwahnee continues to captivate visitors, its cultural and architectural legacies intact. For those familiar with The Shining, the echoes of the Overlook Hotel are unmistakable, where design and film converge in a lasting impression of beauty and dread. A visit to the Ahwahnee offers more than a place to stay—it’s an immersion into the intersection of history, nature and pop culture.

Postcard from Egypt

As descendants of one of the world’s oldest civilizations, the people of Egypt, known as the sons of the Nile, carry a profound legacy. Positioned as the most populous Arab state—114 million people and counting—Egypt serves as a vital link between Africa and the Middle East.

Enter the Viking Aton, purpose-built for the Nile in 2023, the latest addition to Viking's modern Nile fleet. Replete with clean Scandinavian design, the overall atmosphere on board is airy and elegant. There’s also plenty of outdoor space for soaking in views of the lush riverbanks, including a sun deck, plunge pool and Aquavit terrace. Guiding us through the wonders of ancient Egypt was Ahmed, our expert Egyptologist, whose passion and knowledge breathed life into each archaeological marvel we encountered. With a masterful touch, he unveiled the mysteries of hieroglyphics and painted vibrant pictures of Egyptian rituals at every temple we explored. Likewise, the ship's crew were attentive without being intrusive, adding a layer of warmth to our journey.

What sets a Viking experience apart from other Nile River cruises? Viking’s ships stand out as the newest on the Nile. After a day filled with exploration in the scorching Egyptian heat, the tranquility of your 82-passenger vessel offers a welcome respite. What makes cruising down the Nile so captivating are the picturesque vistas from your veranda, showcasing the lively riverbanks adorned with sugarcane, banana trees, papyrus, date palms, feathery reeds, bulrushes and village children frolicking in the water. It's an experience that completely engulfs you. Join me as I recount some of the highlights from my unforgettable 12-day Pharaohs & Pyramids voyage along the Nile, which starts and ends in Cairo and sails between Luxor and Aswan.

Day 1: Arrival in Cairo

Touching down at Cairo airport, I bypassed the queues with my e-visa and smoothly made my way through passport control before transferring to the Fairmont Hotel. 

Day 2: Exploring Cairo's Treasures

Explored the winding alleys of Coptic Cairo and the Old Quarter of the Egyptian capital, a UNESCO site. Roaming the vibrant streets, I soaked in the atmosphere of Muizz Street and the Souk bazaar. Then enjoyed a spot of relaxation by the hotel's rooftop pool, a perfect end to a day of discovery.

Day 3: Unveiling Ancient Marvels

The Step Pyramid and the majestic Great Pyramids of Giza stood as timeless testaments to Egypt's rich history. Amidst the backdrop of the last of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, I marveled at the grandeur of these architectural wonders, each stone echoing tales of centuries past.

Day 4: Journey to Luxor

Fly to Luxor, where we rendezvous with our ship after immersing ourselves in the breathtaking wonders of Karnak Temple—the second largest religious complex in the world after Cambodia's Angkor Wat. Steeped in the whispers of ancient civilizations, Karnak Temple's cinematic magnetism has graced numerous films, including classics like "The Spy Who Loved Me" and the original "Death On The Nile." As dusk descends, Luxor Temple casts its mesmerizing glow, serving as a stirring testament to the timeless legacy buried beneath the sands of Luxor. This city's history is intricately interwoven with that of Thebes, the fabled metropolis revered by ancient Egyptians as Waset.

Day 5: Delving into Quena's Mysteries

Dendera Temple beckoned with the allure of Goddess Hathor, its ancient stones echoing with tales of devotion and reverence. Amidst the ruins, I felt a connection to a bygone era, each step a testament to the enduring spirit of human ingenuity.

Day 6: Luxor's Timeless Charms

Exploring the Valley of the Kings and Carter House, I traced the footsteps of pharaohs and pioneers. Tutankhamun's modest tomb belied its historical significance, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of power and prestige. I gazed in wonder at the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut near the Valley of the Kings, one of the world’s most striking architectural masterpieces.

Day 7: Esna

Taking a midpoint break, I savored moments of quiet reflection while cooling off in the infinity pool on the aft deck, allowing the sights and sounds of Egypt to soak in.

Day 8: Aswan's Enigmatic Beauty

Guests have the opportunity to visit the temples at Abu Simbel and the Aswan High Dam as optional excursions. I chose to retrace the steps of Agatha Christie at the Old Cataract Hotel in Aswan, a captivating spot on the banks of the Nile overlooking Elephantine Island. 

Day 9: Mystical Encounters in Aswan

Boarding a motorboat, I journeyed to Philae Temple, its majestic silhouette standing proud against the Nile's shimmering waters. A short walk from our ship led me to Kom Ombo Temple, perched atop a hill, offering panoramic views of the timeless river below.

Day 10: Edfu's Ancient Splendor

A visit to Edfu Temple unfolded like a journey through time, each column and carving whispering tales of ancient rituals and divine reverence. A horse-drawn calèche ride through the village streets added a touch of romance to an already enchanting day before sailing back to Luxor.

Day 11: Return to Cairo

Bid farewell to the remarkable crew before boarding our flight back to Cairo. During the afternoon, I took time to contemplate the countless marvels I had experienced, each moment leaving an indelible mark on my soul.

Day 12: Homeward Bound

As I journeyed home, I reflected on Egypt's profound significance in human history, recognizing the enduring impact this enchanting land will have on me.


Viking’s 12-day Pharaohs & Pyramids itinerary costs from $5,999 per person (not including flights). Visit Viking.com

Retracing the steps of Agatha Christie at the Old Cataract Hotel in Aswan

Entering the gates of Aswan’s Old Cataract Hotel, it was as though time itself had frozen still. The corridors exuded an air of faded grandeur, with framed pictures of Egyptian dignitaries alongside notable figures such as Winston Churchill and Howard Carter, the British archaeologist who famously discovered the tomb of Tutankhamun. Whispers of a bygone era echoed through the marble halls. It is said that Agatha Christie herself stayed here in the 1930’s while writing her 1937 novel "Death on the Nile.” Nevertheless, the hotel's prominence in Christie's famed novel lends an undeniable allure to its storied history.

Standing proudly on the banks of the Nile since 1899, the historic British colonial-era hotel was built by Thomas Cook, founder of the pioneering travel agency. The tranquil strains of classical music greeted me as I stepped onto its terrace, offering a breathtaking vista of the Nile, where feluccas glided gracefully, their billowing sails painted against the canvas of the sky. 

Seated amidst the timeless elegance of the terrace, I couldn't help but feel transported to a different era. The distant silhouette of Elephantine Island stood sentinel in the river, a silent witness to the passage of time. It was easy to imagine oneself as a character in one of Christie's mysteries, ensconced in a world of intrigue and suspense.

As I sipped my tea, I found myself contemplating the secrets that lay hidden within the hotel's walls. For if Agatha Christie had once walked these hallowed halls, surely she had left behind more than just the memory of her presence. With a bittersweet farewell to the captivating ambiance of the Old Cataract Hotel, I embarked on the next leg of my journey, tracing the course of Egypt's ancient river.

Postcard from Howard Creek Ranch

While exploring the rugged coastline of Mendocino County in Northern California, I recently discovered Howard Creek Ranch in Westport—the last stop along Highway 1 before the road leads inland. A time capsule that effortlessly blends history, art and nature into an unforgettable vacation experience, the ranch sits on 60 acres of pristine natural beauty, with sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean, sandy beaches and rolling mountains. The best part? Howard Creek Ranch is also dog-friendly (by advance reservation only), making it the perfect spot for Jackson and me.

Built in 1871, the hand of history has touched every weathered surface of the ranch, creating a timeworn aesthetic that exudes charm and nostalgia. A swinging bridge, gently swaying over the babbling creek, whispered secrets of forgotten adventures, while thoughtfully scattered antiques hinted at tales from times long past. As we scampered down to the beach, weaving our way through the blackberry bushes, I found myself captivated by this whimsical wonderland. 

Perched atop a hill, the hidden gem of the property, Sea View Cottage, boasts breathtaking views of the Mendocino Coast. At night, I could hear the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore, creating a soothing backdrop that cast a hypnotic spell. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving only the beauty of nature and the comforting embrace of the cottage’s rustic charm. 

In 1974, Charles (Sonny), a visionary artist/builder, and Sally, a free-spirited flower child, discovered the homestead in a state of disrepair and together, they transformed it into an Inn. As he prepared my breakfast, Sonny shared captivating tales of hillside adventures with his loyal companions, Blue the Great Dane and his spirited Arabian horse. Today, the Inn stands as a living work of art, an embodiment of their boundless creativity.

This is the California of our dreams, the one that lingers in our hearts, a treasure that almost slipped away amidst the march of progress. But here, in the magic woven by Sonny and Sally, something extraordinary thrives—something no AI-engineered, tech-enabled replicant could ever hope to emulate: authenticity.

In an increasingly homogenous world shaped by artificial intelligence and sleek technology, Howard Creek Ranch is a testament to the power of originality. Here, each room is unique and every interaction is guided by the warmth of real human hearts, leaving a profound imprint on all fortunate enough to experience it. And amidst the enchantment, you’ll realize that you’ve stumbled upon a rare gem—a vintage vision of carefree California.

howardcreekranch.com

Postcard from Beachwood Canyon

Tucked away in the hills below the Hollywood Sign, Beachwood Canyon is an exclusive neighborhood that has become a shrine for Harry Styles fans. The (mostly female) pilgrims come to take selfies at the Beachwood Cafe, immortalized in his song “Falling” from the Fine Line album (2019). Once known as “Hollwoodland,” its architecture and landscaping drew inspiration from the southern regions of France, Italy and Spain. The six sets of 1920s-era stone staircases (one featuring cascading ponds) that zigzag between hillside streets add to the pretty enclave’s charm which was sold as a refuge in the early 1920s. Driving or walking through the stone gates that still mark the entrance to Hollywoodland, transports you back in time to a small storybook town that seems out of place within the confines of Los Angeles. The Village Plaza, situated at the end of Beachwood Drive, may no longer have the gas station or drug store, but Beachwood Market, the neighborhood grocery store since 1933, is still serving the community and even expanded to the building next door with its distinctive John Lautner-designed glass front. You can stop in for a cup of coffee at the Beachwood Cafe, say hello to a neighbor, and check the bulletin board outside for a missing cat or neighborhood event.

Beachwood Canyon is also home to Besant Lodge (2560 N Beachwood Dr) which has quite a history. Originally built as the first Independent Silent Movie Cinema in Los Angeles, the theater showcased many of the famous silent era films. During this time it was also used as a private preview club for directors to share their new works with each other. Along the way in the 30's and 40's, actors such as Orson Welles and Joan Crawford did some local theater here as part of what was called "The Beachwood Players". It became the present-day Besant Lodge when the cinema was bought by the Theosophical Society in the 1950s. Beachwood Canyon at that time had a large Theosophical community who were dedicated to both “Spirit” and “Art”. These same local Theosophists built venues like The Hollywood Bowl. In its Theosophical incarnation, Besant Lodge has welcomed lecturers worldwide, including Aldous Huxley, Gerald Heard and Manly P. Hall. Today, Besant Lodge continues all of these rich traditions by hosting unique speakers, artists and events from around the globe.

Exploring the ruins of Echo Mountain

Given that spooky season is now officially upon us, Jackson and I decided to explore an abandoned estate at the mouth of Las Flores Canyon in an area known as the Haunted Forest in Altadena. Adventurers know this area as Cobb Estate and it consists of a few remnants of a 107-acre estate that was built over a century ago.

Lumber magnate Charles Cobb and his wife, Carrie, built their Altadena mansion in 1918. Over the next decades, the Spanish-styled estate survived brush fires, a public plan to turn the land into a cemetery, and ownership by the Marx Brothers before it was ultimately turned into public parkland. Now owned by the U.S. Forest Service, the estate (also known as Las Flores Ranch) is said to be haunted.

As we explored further, we came upon more fascinating historical sites, including where Mt. Lowe Railway once shuttled vacationers to a resort on the mountainside once known as the "White City." Atop Echo Mountain there once was a dazzling Victorian resort, pictured, known as The White City in the Sky. This ‘city’ was comprised of a 40-room chalet, astronomical observatory, zoo, dormitories, dance hall, bowling alley, tennis courts, picnic areas, shops and, the jewel of the city, the palatial 70-room Echo Mountain House, built in 1894.

The entire complex of buildings was painted a brilliant white to reflect the southern California sun. Situated as it was at the tip of Echo Mountain, the resort could be seen glowing against the backdrop of the San Gabriel Mountains (then called the Sierra Madre Mountains) from downtown Los Angeles, some 13 miles distant. The resort was part of a series of hotels and taverns built to service the Mount Lowe Railway, the brainchild of Professor Thaddeus Lowe.

At night there was a white-linen dinner service prepared on dishes etched with the resort’s logo followed by dancing. The luxuriousness and sheer spectacle of the resort along with the incredible scenery quickly made the White City the top honeymoon destination in America. Unfortunately, the cost to construct and maintain the railway and the hotels proved to be too much for Lowe and the project fell into receivership. In 1899, only six years after it opened, the professor lost everything except for title to the observatory. But that was only the beginning of the end for the White City.

Between 1900 and 1905 fires destroyed Echo Mountain House and the Chalet. Although the observatory was still in operation, after 1905, Echo Mountain was only a stopover on the trip further up to Alpine Tavern, a 22-room Swiss Chalet hospice with tennis courts, wading pools and mule rides.

In 1937, the Mount Lowe Railway made its last public trek past the remains of the White City to the burnt ruins of the Mount Lowe Tavern. What little remained of the buildings that once graced the promontory of Echo Mountain was declared a hazardous nuisance and blasted into history with dynamite by the US Forest Service between 1959 and 1962.

Today, all that remains of Professor Lowe’s dream are some foundations marking the location of the Echo Mountain House and it’s periphery buildings. Alas, only the foundations of the Cobb Estate remain as well. But what an adventure it must have been transforming a barren mountaintop into a sought-after destination for locals and travelers alike. And while the mountain wonderland may no longer exist, the views from Echo Mountain are still spectacular – from the mountains and cities of the San Gabriel Valley, to the city of Los Angeles and to the ocean and its beaches, even as far away as Catalina Island. A sign at the entrance to the former mountain resort reads:

“For those with vivid imaginations, it is possible to stand among the foundations of the mountain railway and picture oneself a part of Professor Lowe’s dream-come-true. The iron rails, the buildings, the holiday crowds are gone, but the scars on the mountain remain as slowly fading legacies to man’s creative talents.”

Trails of the Angeles, John W. Robinson

Postcard from Carmel

Located on the Pacific Coast about 300 miles north of Los Angeles, Carmel-by-the-Sea, or just Carmel, is a town whose rustic sensibility has captured the imaginations of everyone from bohemian artists and writers to Betty White. The cooling coastal breezes coming off this deep section of the Pacific Ocean create a serene environment that is ripe for creativity. Inspired by the Cypress trees and craggy rocks that line the Monterey Bay coastline, Carmel’s pine-studded sand dunes have long attracted artists who began coming here in the early 1900s to paint its breathtakingly natural scenery.

Apart from the gorgeous landscape, one of the biggest draws to Carmel is its amazing architecture. Many of the homes appear as though they’ve sprung up from the scenery like something out of a fairytale, or the imaginations of their owners. The buildings of Carmel certainly emanate a fairytale-like quality. But Carmel provides more than just whimsy. Sited at one of the most scenic meetings of land and sea in the world, Carmel is a microcosm of California's architectural heritage.

Its Mission San Carlos Borromeo, first built in 1797 and founded by Father Juñipero Serra, a Franciscan priest, consisted of adobe-brick structures heavily influenced by the churches found in Serra’s native Mallorca. Its original designers weren’t trained architects; they merely replicated what they remembered of the European churches in their native Spain. It became a root building for California's first regional building style, the Mission Revival, and remains as one of the best examples of its kind (it's the only mission in the state with its original bell tower). It also offers a valuable glimpse into the history of California under Spanish colonial rule and later, Mexico.

After the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, the village was inundated with musicians, writers, painters and other artists turning to the establishing artist colony after the bay city was destroyed. The new residents were offered home lots – ten dollars down, little or no interest, and whatever they could pay on a monthly basis. Many embraced the Arts and Crafts aesthetic of handcrafted homes built from native materials, informally sited in the landscape. In the mid-1920s, Tudor Revival and Spanish Romantic Revival styles enhanced the storybook quality of the community. Individual expression continues as an ongoing aesthetic theme.

Other builders followed, like Hugh Comstock in 1924. Originally from Illinois, Comstock had no formal training as an architect, yet he designed and built his wife (a Otsy-Totsy rag doll maker) a fairytale cottage for her handmade dolls called “Hansel,” as a 244-square foot showroom and sales center for his wife’s dolls. Later he built a companion cottage on the same parcel and named it “Gretel.” Another favorite: The “Cottage of Sweets” is now a candy store in town on main street.

The 1940s and 1950s in Carmel were filled with one-of-a-kind construction, landscapes, and art pieces in typical fairytale-cottage-style Carmel architecture. Known for being dog-friendly, Cypress Inn was owned by legendary singer, actress and animal activist Doris Day. Doris’s deep devotion to animals helped put Cypress Inn on the map as the “pet friendliest” inn in the “pet friendliest” town in America. At the dog-friendly beach, you can watch dogs running, fetching and playing with each other and in the surf.

Postcard from Whidbey Island

Nestled among the majestic evergreens of the Pacific Northwest, Captain Whidbey is a historic inn on the shores of Penn Cove outside of Seattle, and deeply connected to the local rhythms of Puget Sound’s Whidbey Island. With scene-stealing old fireplaces built from local stones, to log-paneled rooms that capture the essence of a different time, stepping into the Captain Whidbey, with all its creaky, imperfect, crooked charm, is like an ode to wabi-sabi. It does feel like a return to the slower days of summer camp. The flow of locals who continue to come onto the property to eat at the restaurant or sit on the swings by the lagoon are a testament to how Captain Whidbey remains a familiar fixture with a comforting lack of pretension. Whidbey Island is the largest island in the state of Washington, and it’s where one of my favorite movies, Practical Magic, was filmed back in the 90s. With a nautical soul and agricultural heart, this 45-mile-long island in Puget Sound feels like the West Coast’s version of Nantucket. Unlike the San Juans, you can drive directly to Whidbey over the breathtaking Deception Pass Bridge or hop a 20-minute ferry in Mukilteo, located 20 miles from Seattle.

captainwhidbey.com

Postcard from Marfa

I first visited the West Texas town of Marfa back in the summer of 2013. Besides some rather impressive Donald Judd art installations, what had made this remote outpost famous was an unlikely looking Prada store (established in 2005) plonked on the side of a dusty road, a few miles outside of the tiny town of Valentine, which is in fact a “pop architectural land art project.” And it was while bubbling away in a hot tub under the stars at El Cosmico that I had a burning bush moment. I’d always longed to live in America, and as soon as I got home, I set things in motion; a year later, once the visa had been approved, I moved to Los Angeles. So big, life-changing things happened for me in Texas nearly a decade ago. To return was something of a personal pilgrimage, I guess, although going back anywhere a second time is never the same, and I wasn’t sure what to expect given how much America has changed.

Fortunately, this desert gem still shines, partly because its natural setting is still so unusual for an international art hub. It sometimes feels like you’ve wandered onto a film set (Giant was filmed here in 1955, and features the sprawling, windblown landscape of the remote cattle town as a character.) As it turns out, the planets had aligned and a rare, once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon coincided with my return visit: the Jupiter-Neptune conjunction of 2022. I had no idea that this interplanetary event was going to happen, and it wasn’t visible to the human eye, but it felt like kismet. This rare alignment hasn't occurred since 1856 and won't happen again until 2188. Maybe this will bring some good vibes to the region, the country, or maybe even the world. Meanwhile, the Marfa Lights, mysterious glowing orbs that appear in the desert outside of town, have mystified people for generations. According to eyewitnesses, the Marfa Lights appear to be roughly the size of basketballs and are varyingly described as white, blue, yellow, red or other colors. Reportedly, the Marfa Lights hover, merge, twinkle, split into two, flicker, float up into the air or dart quickly across Mitchell Flat (the area east of Marfa where they're most commonly reported).

Inspired by the magical constellations that make up the celestial canvas of the West Texas night sky, I stopped at The McDonald Observatory (built in 1933) which hosts Dark Skies festivals. On a scenic loop of the Davis Mountains, also known as Highway to the Sky, oak and juniper line the volcanic peaks, while blooming agave and cactus blossom make this a striking 74-mile drive through some of Texas’s highest mountains. On my epic journey home through the Guadalupe Mountains and Sonoran Desert, where giant cacti dot the primordial landscape, I felt a deep sense of wonder. Cultural tectonic plates will continue to shift, and we can never return to the way things were in 2013. But in the run-up to Easter, I’m reminded that this is a period of rebirth and resurrection. Great things are on the horizon. Happy Easter y’all.

Stay: The Lincoln Marfa. A lodging community in the heart of Marfa, consisting of eclectic casitas surrounding garden courtyards with native plants, water features, fire pits and shady porches. It’s also dog-friendly; thelincolnmarfa.com

Postcard from Jackson Hole

Tucked away in the heart of the Tetons, Jackson Hole, Wyoming, is a town where rugged wilderness meets understated luxury. Picture a scene straight out of a vintage Western, complete with a town square ringed by iconic antler arches, and you're halfway there. But don’t be fooled by the laid-back vibe; this is no ordinary mountain town. Jackson’s charm lies in its unpretentious allure, a rarefied yet approachable sanctuary that draws visitors in—many of whom never leave. And therein lies the rub. The influx of remote workers, fueled by the pandemic, has turned this once idyllic retreat into a flashpoint for debates about affordable housing, as rents soar and the local community grapples with change.

Despite these growing pains, Jackson continues to make waves for its small but mighty dining scene. Restaurants here have earned a reputation for punching well above their weight, although the pandemic and the occasional mask mandate have certainly left their mark. In winter, Jackson Hole transforms into a mecca for world-class skiing, though climate change casts a long shadow over its once-reliable snow seasons—an unsettling omen for a town so deeply intertwined with its outdoor economy. With the absence of early snow in December, the vulnerability of Jackson’s future as a ski haven becomes ever more apparent.

It’s not just the snow that’s shifting. Teton County, where Jackson sits, now holds the distinction of being the wealthiest county in the U.S., making it a magnet for the ultra-wealthy in search of pandemic-proof havens. The mythos of the rural West—the dusty cowboy, the bohemian ski bum—persists, offering a stark contrast to urban life’s moral quandaries. Jackson feels like a world apart, a place where the wilderness is pristine, the air crisp, and the ties to nature profound. The proximity of Grand Teton National Park lends the town an almost cinematic grandeur, while its architecture—an eclectic mix of frontier nostalgia and modernist flourishes—tells a tale of transformation.

Take a walk through town and the Old West still lingers in its bones, though newer steel-wrapped, glass-heavy structures speak to Jackson’s growing Malibu-meets-Mountain retreat identity. It’s no wonder some locals have christened it ‘Neverland.’ While the town’s rustic dude-ranch charm has long appealed to blue-blooded elites seeking respite, its modern architectural aesthetic seems tailor-made for the Montecito crowd.

Visiting in the off-season, from early November to mid-December, reveals a quieter Jackson, perfect for those who prefer to take it slow. For those in search of chic lodging, the Anvil Hotel—a renovated mid-century motel designed by Brooklyn-based Studio Tack—offers a stylish base with frontier-chic interiors. Think custom cast-iron beds, Woolrich blankets, brass fixtures, parquet floors, and kilim rugs that set the tone for a stay as cozy as it is cool. Nearby, The Virginian Lodge offers a groovy take on Western kitsch, with wood-paneled walls, cowboy oil paintings, and just the right amount of taxidermy for that authentic ‘old-school Jackson’ feel. As for dining? Don’t miss the elk bolognese at Glorietta, where you’ll discover a taste of Wyoming that’s anything but expected.

anvilhotel.com; virginianlodge.com

Paradise lost

"As the Earth warms and the drought deepens, a network of biologists and conservationists in California are building a 'Noah's Ark' to protect wildlife from extinction by fire and heat." -- LA Times, August 18th, 2021.

As I write this, a massive wildfire continues to rage through Northern California as an evacuation map has been released to locals. This follows The Dixie Fire, the largest of the major wildfires burning in Western U.S. states that have seen historic drought and weeks of high temperatures and dry weather that have left trees, brush and grasslands as flammable as tinder. While 2020 was the largest wildfire season recorded in California’s modern history, 2021 is off to a daunting start.

California was always the world’s idea of paradise (until perhaps the city of that name burned in 2018). Hollywood shaped our fantasies of the last century, and many of its movies were set in the Golden state. It’s where the Okies trudged when their climate turned vicious during the Dust Bowl years – “pastures of plenty”, Woody Guthrie called the green agricultural valleys. John Muir invented our grammar and rhetoric of wildness in the high Sierra (and modern environmentalism was born with the club he founded).

Personal, direct effects of climate change—having to conserve water during drought season, install air-conditioning to combat rising temperatures, and clear vegetation from yards and gardens to protect against wildfires—are the new normal in California. Some residents are wondering, is California still California when our weather becomes an adversary rather than an ally? What is California for when summertime, the season in which the Golden State once found its fullest luster, turns from heaven into hell?

The increasingly hostile weather is straining social relations and disrupting economics, politics and mental health. Extreme weather events like wildfires have been linked to depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and suicidal ideation. The sound of a siren can be a triggering event for anyone who has experienced the incineration of their home. The threat of evacuation, and reliving the horrifying memories of fleeing a previous inferno, have created a nightmarish present -- and paint a grim picture of our future. Mental struggles are also common among wildland firefighters who are being exposed to horrendous conditions - entire communities destroyed, loss of human life, loss of wildlife, loss of landscape that we treasure.

As one writer eloquently puts it: “We need a new word for that feeling for nature that is love and wonder mingled with dread and sorrow, for when we see those things that are still beautiful, still powerful, but struggling under the burden of our mistakes.”