In the heart of Minnehaha Regional Park in Minneapolis, you’ll find a creek that eventually cascades 16 metres into a pool not far from the Mississippi River. The Minnehaha Falls has been a top tourist attraction since 1855, when Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote about it in A Song for Hiawatha (you can see a statue of the co-founder of the Iroquois Confederacy not far from the falls). But for part of the year the water stops falling. In the depths of winter, it freezes up, creating a bright blue, glowing grotto. There are paths down to the falls, which you can walk behind and take photos.
Named after a family parrot, Jakes was founded and is still run by local Sally Henzell. There are 30 rooms, cottages and villas spread out over the quaint fishing village on Jamaica’s south coast. Each bohemian-style abode has its own one-of-a kind bed, antique furniture, shell fretwork, ceiling fans and louvre windows, which are inspired by Morocco, India and the artist Gaudi.
Wake up in the morning to blue skies and even bluer waters, walk out onto your own wooden outdoor deck and dip into your own saltwater pool. During the day take the boat out to Black River, visit the YS falls to cool off, and head to Floyd’s Pelican Bar floating in the middle of the ocean for a few drinks before dinner.
Your bathers, a pair of thongs and a laid-back attitude are all you’ll need to bring – it’s the Caribbean after all.
For those who like the idea of being at one with the great outdoors, but can’t imagine life without a hot bath, there’s glamping on this Colorado property about 50 kilometres from Telluride. Eight tents – each with handcrafted beds, gas fireplaces and full-sized tubs – are located either on the banks of the Dolores River or in a forest tall with blue spruce and ponderosa pines.
Meals are served at the renovated farmhouse, where there’s also a bar on the veranda overlooking the Wilson Range. Guests can also get a shuttle to the nearby Dunton Hot Springs resort, built in a former ghost town, to soak in the healing waters. Go horse riding in the High Rockies, mountain biking, hiking, rock climbing, fly fishing (there are guides for beginners) or relax with a massage or body treatment in the spa tent.
Once a factory on the Williamsburg waterfront, this historic brick building now houses 70 hip rooms. The Wythe Hotel’s floor-to-ceiling offer arresting views of Manhattan and the property’s restoration has been carried out with its working-class roots in mind: exposed brickwork, roller doors, concrete floors and beds made with pine recycled from the ceiling all lend an industrial air to the stylish abode, while underfloor heating, boutique bath products and creative light fixtures add a layer of comfort.
If the panoramic views from the rooftop bar don’t lure you onto the streets, catch a flick or a stand-up comedy show in the on-site cinema or tuck into the French-inspired menu at resident restaurant, Reynard. You may never want to leave.
We’re so close to the polar bear I can hear him snoring. Terry Elliot, a guide from the nearby Seal River Heritage Lodge, motions for us to stop walking. It’s late September and blades of sunlight slice across the western shore of Hudson Bay in Manitoba. The bear glows a bright ivory against the autumn tundra.
“He’s missing his buddy,” Terry says. “Males like this one hang out with other young males. It’s called ‘pair bonding’. They’ll spend most of their days sleeping and sparring – practice fighting – until winter comes and they can get back out on the ice to hunt seals again.”
Maybe it’s the mention of seals, but the bear snorts awake and rolls to its feet. I’m suddenly aware of just how big it is and how close we are. I’m six foot, five inches tall. A full-grown male can stand twice my height and outweigh a ’68 Volkswagen Beetle.
I raise my camera when the bear grabs a dwarf willow tree in his jaws and rips it from the ground. Then he tosses the mangled vegetation at us.
“Is he warning us?”
Terry chuckles. “No, that’s his toy. He wants to play with us.”
While I expected to see polar bears from a distance when I arrived at Seal River several days ago, I didn’t expect to be invited into their world. This is one of the reasons the lodge is unique. Founded by a local family with Canadian and Icelandic roots, Seal River and the other four lodges owned by Churchill Wild offer guests a chance to not just see the untamed Arctic but also to immerse themselves in it, bears and all.
For the past three days, my fellow guests and I have been hiking and voyaging by Zodiac along the pristine coast. Polar bear encounters are frequent, but we’ve also howled back and forth with a pack of wolves, tracked caribou, snorkelled with hundreds of singing beluga whales (some so curious they nudged my GoPro) and explored Inuit archaeological sites.
The morning after the playful bear encounter, we leave the lodge behind for an even more remote destination. A de Havilland Otter ferries us nearly 160 kilometres northwest to Tundra Camp, Churchill Wild’s newest outpost. The wildlife here might be sparser – we spot only a family of black bears from the air – but the draw for us is the Barren Lands. This wilderness of stunted pine forests, rolling tundra and sandy eskers has a population smaller than Broome at Christmas.
Tundra Camp sits on the shores of Schmok Lake. The main base is a rustic hunting cabin and a pair of large tents – one for dining and one for briefings and bad-weather lounging. The sleeping camp – a dozen private expedition tents with cots, sleeping bags and propane heaters – is a short walk beyond the cabin.
Our two-night stay at Tundra Camp might be brief, but the remoteness and the silence of the landscape – and the prolonged hours of summer light – make the days long and full. One of the guides, Josh, leads some of the group along the lakeshore to explore the autumn landscape and pick blueberries. I join Terry and two fit South Africans on an all-day trek. There are no trails out here; we simply follow ancient caribou paths and spend hours roaming over the low granite-capped ridges. Each summit offers another never-ending panorama.
That evening, after moose lasagne and blueberry pie (the French-trained chef has been imported from Seal River), I join everyone around the campfire beside the lake. The sun is down and the Milky Way is starting to materialise. My legs are hammered and my face glows from long days of Arctic sun and wind. I’m hypnotised by the flames. “Look up,” says Terry.
The heavens ripple with tall green and purple curtains: the aurora borealis. We lean back in our chairs. A deep silence falls over us. “The Inuit believe the northern lights are the spirits of their ancestors dancing and playing in the afterlife,” says one of the campers who has travelled in Greenland.
The firewood is gone and the embers cold when we hike back to camp. Before I click off my headlamp and unzip the tent, I look up again. The shimmering spirits are still dancing over the Barren Lands.
Opened in 2007, the Bowery Hotel was a leader in the revitalisation of the once-gritty Bowery neighbourhood. Hoteliers Sean MacPherson and Eric Goode, also responsible for the Maritime and Jane hotels in Manhattan, bought and redesigned the 14-storey property, creating spaces imbued with retro, Art Deco-inspired glamour. There’s a warm and welcoming lobby, complete with hand-picked antique furnishings and cosy fireplace, and an outdoor patio.
The 135 bright guestrooms are like cool apartments, with floor-to-ceiling windows (some even have glimpses of the Empire State Building), Turkish oushak rugs, marble tubs and C.O. Bigelow Apothecaries amenities in the bathrooms. Grab a board game from the collection inspired by The Royal Tenenbaums and escape to the wood-panelled lobby bar for a break from the New York crowds, or try chef Chris D’Amico’s rustic Italian fare at Gemma, the in-house restaurant.
Mention Palm Springs and most people think of swimming pools and the city’s proximity to music festival behemoth, Coachella. But there’s lots more to do out here than soak up the rays in an itty-bitty bikini or rave out in the desert.
An excellent way to burn a few hours is to rent an ATV and tear up some of the mountainous sand dunes that loom just outside the city (it’s on private land, so you don’t even need a license). These four-wheelers are fun, fast and just about anyone can do it.
Normally, looking through a kaleidoscope is like dabbling with LSD. Now imagine just how trippy it would be to stand inside one of these playgrounds of light and mirrors. Located at the exquisite Emerson Resort & Spa in Mount Tremper, New York, just a couple of hours outside of NYC, is the world’s largest kaleidoscope.
In a space that’s 17 metres high and about 12 metres across, visitors can feel the immersion in a multimedia show with moving images and a thumping soundtrack. Built in the silo of an old farm, it’s big enough for you to plaster yourself across the floor and lose yourself in the experience.
Few experiences make us cry: the death of a loved one, a Budweiser commercial during the Super Bowl, and Will Horowitz’s Pops Pastrami sandwich. The recipe, an updated version of his grandfather’s original concoction, includes house-smoked pastrami, buttermilk-cured pickles and a healthy dose of fresh dill, along with some extra napkins to wipe up your tears of happiness, I mean, your mouth.
You’ll find this delicacy at the East Village delicatessen, Harry & Ida’s Meat and Supply Co, and if you feel the need to weep a little longer in the privacy of your hotel or home, they sell pastrami by the pound, too.
The sandwich tastes even better served with a slice of history.
Go to Nashville and you’re sure to have a good time. But if you want it guaranteed, head to the epicentre of Lower Broadway fun, Robert’s Western World. This long-standing traditional bluegrass and country bar is no holds barred when it comes to a good time.
Step in for a cold Miller Genuine Draft, and let one of the locals spin you around to the kicking band. Once you’ve worked up an appetite, one of the greasy burgers or bologna sandwiches will really hit the spot. The only problem is the music is so good you won’t want to go anywhere else.
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