Her bags failed to arrive in Milan as she departed for two weeks in Italy. Her tour group, on a tight schedule moved on after the leader said "You can shop for clothes in the next town." She finds abundant size two outfits but she needs size twelve. After two weeks in the same jeans, she returns home to deal with American Airlines. A week later they locate her luggage but refuse to release them until she can prove they belong to her."Can you identify something in a bag?" The employee asks. "A blue shirt and jeans," she says. That's not good enough!!! He asks for the name of a book and she says, "I don't remember the name but the author signed it. Her name is Cari." "Is it Life on the Loose?" He asks.
in this absurd scenario, he finally agrees to release her luggage, four weeks from the day she landed in Milan.
​Life on the Loose is now her favorite book.

What does a silly pink and blue gummi worm have to do with adventure travel? Not much unless you believe in the magic that happens when your pace comes to a stop on a knee-grinding, mind-numbing, quad-stretching hike. That 's when you drop the backpack and revel in the fact that thank god it's over because you survived the "WTF am I doing here" trail to the mountaintop. I'm a believer in Gandhi's "There is more to life than increasing its speed." I even sold tee shirts with that logo to remind myself to relish the pain and sweat as I hauled a 40 pound pack up a mountain. I write that with a caveat. Sometimes it is the destination especially at the end of a grueling hike. The gummi worked every time. As my Venture West group of intrepid hikers sat in silence and sucked or chewed on those worms, we temporarily forgot throbbing muscles and aching feet. Instead we focused on the snow-covered peaks, the distant waterfall, the clear clean air, the smell of the white bark pines, and the soft breeze that dried our sweat. Strip the silly from the worm and what's left, one more way to honor the trail, the mountain, yourself.

The demise of the Milwaukee Walking and Eating Society happened gradually. For 25 years I organized walk and eat groups as we explored neighborhoods on foot and ate at hundreds of small restaurants. But times changed, people aged, busyness intervened, and slowly, inexorably, the membership declined to a point where it no longer made sense to plan those weekly adventures. I started this in 1992 to meet like-minded people and to satisfy my passion for walking, or more accurately strolling milwaukee's neighborhoods. I like to poke in little shops and taste new dishes at unfamiliar restaurants. As I wined and dined, I made many new friends, the byproduct I hoped for back when it all began.
We were stoic; we walked in rain and snow; navigated ice in January; ate on patios and decks when we should have been inside just because.... In 25 years I cancelled one walk because of weather and that was years ago when the wind chill threatened minus 70.
Nostalgia gets me nowhere, it's over. But there's hope. A friend, JanGrosenick and I hope to keep a remnant of the original alive with "Venturing Out." We have three activities coming in June: a walk at Lion's Den in Grafton and lunch at a brewery, a walk in Bay View and lunch at Vanguard, a walk in Grant Park followed by music, beer, and food at the traveling beer garden
We would love to have new friends join us. For more information please contact me on my website Lifeontheloose.com

For 20 years my family had a cottage on Good Harbor Bay in northern Michigan. I will be forever grateful to former senator Phillip Hart who fought to turn a parcel of land along Lake Michigan into a national lakeshore. WhenSleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore became reality, my parents sold our cottage and the land to the government. The Park Service then removed every trace of our cottage to let the land return to a natural state. After 40 years, it is as it should be, wild and natural.
Mom had planted wild flowers, trillium, bell wort, columbine, spring beauty, and more. Last year, with the intent of keeping everything pure and indigenous, the Invasive Plant Removal crew dug up all the flowers Mom had lovingly nurtured. On Mother's Day I performed my small act of subversion. Where trillium and bell wort grew, I planted two, just two non-indigenous daisies. Mom loved daisies. I'm sure she would approve.
​

Many years ago , photographer Les Blacklock put together a collection of his photos in a book and called it "Ask My Psychiatrist." His psychiatrist? A log in a forest in northern Minnesota. I recalled his log/psychiatrist (tongue in cheek for Blacklock). as I hung in my hammock next to the Colorado River in Utah looking through young spring oak leaves at blue sky and red rock cliffs. My bruised psyche needed healing. Shortly before I left with a friend to drive to Moab, I was the object of a rant, a razor-sharp rant that left me raw, sleepless, disoriented. My friend and I camped for seven nights under oak trees. We spent long hours with coffee, wine, and conversation, as we absorbed the tranquility of our little camp , far removed from the rant that took me down. It was my time in the hammock where I felt the healing grab me. Peace from the river and the rocks took root and push out the shock, the sad, and the anger. I know people, myself included, natter on about the solace of wild places, but this time something almost magical happened. That twisted rant dissolved and in its place, gratitude for a good life that includes traveling and camping in beautiful places with good friends.
I am blessed. I can let go of the rest.

Sometimes help comes from an unexpected place.

A perfect week camping alongside the Colorado River close to Moab. Edward Abbey got it right in Desert Solitare, "...you can't see anything from a car; you've got to get out of the damn contraption and walk, better yet crawl..."

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