National Parks – Uniquely Theo

Arrived Exhausted, Woke Up in Paradise

September 30, 2026uniquelytheo4 Comments

This trip had a special significance for me: visiting the National Park of American Samoa would complete my goal of visiting all 63 U.S. national parks. That milestone was the underlying reason for the journey and reaching this final park would not simply add another destination to the list. It would complete a long running quest that has taken me across the country and into so many truly remarkable places.

Our adventure began in Portland where we spent the night at the Radisson near the airport rather than risk an early morning drive to the airport from Salem ( where we would be picking up my youngest daughter Bernadette) for our 10:00 a.m. flight to American Samoa, with a plane change in Hawaii. Before we could even leave Portland, a before photo was clearly necessary. True to form my oldest daughter Tasia was already full of adventure and had no intention of waiting until we reached an actual beach to get in character. So for the photo, she donned her snorkel and mask. So , with Tasia ready for the South Pacific before we even left Oregon, our trip officially began.

The flights to American Samoa were surprisingly uneventful. We whiled away the nearly 12 hours of flight time with movies, reading, and eating very poor quality airplane food. One of the biggest challenges in this tech savvy family was keeping all of our watches, iPads, and iPhones charged. The three hour layover in Honolulu went quickly and soon we were on the final leg of the trip to American Samoa.

We arrived in American Samoa around 9:00PM. and that is when the real adventure began. Retrieving our luggage turned out to be a chaotic and surprisingly challenging affair. It was a madhouse. Many of the passengers arriving from Honolulu were native Samoans, and it appeared that a trip to Honolulu involved stocking up on products either for their own use or to sell back home. Everyone seemed to be waiting for multiple items such as enormous tubs (the favorite was a black tub with a yellow lid) , assorted packages and boxes. The luggage carts multiplied, the waiting area became completely jam-packed, and the bags emerged from the conveyor at what seemed to be a snails pace. We stood in the rear watching the mountain of luggage slowly make its way into the terminal wondering when our bags would finally appear. At last our meager little duffles emerged from the chaos. Compared with some of the enormous tubs and multiple suitcases, our luggage looked almost embarrassingly modest.

Of course, before we headed off to our hotels we still had to make it through immigration. Since unlike most of the others at the conveyor belt we were only waiting for one item each and managed to be amongst the first to go through the entry process, which went quickly and smoothly. Once on the other side we were met by the driver from Sadie’s by the Sea Hotel who loaded us into the hotel’s transportation van. We settled ourselves in and waited…and waited…and waited for the other passengers to arrive.

The drive from the airport didn’t initially give me much of an impression of what this tropical island would be like. The first part felt surprisingly industrial and somewhat run down , not at all like the lush pacific setting I had been expecting! Eventually however we reached the bay, and the scenery began to change. I was particularly puzzled by a row of dead tree trunks painted white stretching along the bay, each bearing a tattered small American flag. I have not been able to discern what that was about and have filed it away as one of the mysteries of American Samoa.

By the time we pulled into Sadie’s it was 11:30 PM. In searching for lodgings I found few lodging options as tourism is a very small part of the economy because of federal cabotage laws and the strong emphasis on Samoan cultures and the preference for slow, community centered development over resort style growth. This was a big part of the appeal for us and if we wanted to be located on the water there were scant options.

Our best choice for lodging was Sadie’s by the Sea. I knew Sadie’s was a quaint old motel from the online photos but it appeared to have been given a make over. The decor reminded me of the mid-century tropical motels on US 41 in Florida, with retro touches, sage green accents, creamy walls, wood-fluted panels and well worn carpet. It was surprisingly cozy. However no amount of decorating could completely disguise the fact that Sadie’s had been around for a while. It was definitely lived-in and well worn but somehow that became part of its charm. If I had to describe it, I’d use word like quirky, comfortable, tropical, and full of character and personality though it certainly wasn’t luxury and pretentious was definitely not going to be one of its problems. By the time I crawled into bed and turned out the light it was 2:00am.

I woke up about 6:00am the following morning — our first on Tutuila and stepped out onto the balcony. From the balcony, I experienced the soft early light of morning. Above the harbor clouds in shades of blue, gray and gold drifted across the sky. Beyond was a row of rugged peaks which appeared to be rising dramatically from the water. Palm trees were swaying around the pool. The bay shimmered with the first hint of sunrise. This was a pretty spectacular welcome.

After all the planning, packing and long journey from Medford OR I was feeling wonderfully happy. We actually had finally made it. Though still travel weary I stood there knowing that many adventures of hiking and snorkeling awaited and the trip was finally beginning

No “Jumbies” at Haulover and the Unfeeling Autonomous Wheelchairs

September 8, 2025September 8, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

Friday the 11th was to be our last full day here. I had encouraged Nick and Tasia to head off and do a more strenuous hike if they chose, without having to worry about the caretaking of mom they did on earlier hikes i.e. ensuring that this mom did not fall and break her skeleton in several place. So they took off and Luke, Miriam and I enjoyed the morning at the villa and its surrounds and also worked on planning what the last hurrah would be in the afternoon.

I soon decided on a walkabout and headed first down to the beach below which was basically commandeer by the Westin Resort and littered with a large array of sea toys including lounge chairs, umbrellas, kayaks, sea fun adventure boats, SUPs, and water bikes. Though this beach and all beaches in the U.S Virgin Islands are public, their chairs and other amenities were not and it didn’t really seem too “public” to me with its attendant and all the paraphernalia. Since I was decidedly on a “walk about” I opted not to do a “swim about” at the beach especially since I did not have a towel and was not in my swim gear. Thus, I meandered back up towards the villa and about the roads beyond, hoping to find a path down to the next bay over. But it was not to be. Upon returning to the villa I was warmly greeted by a large Green Iguana, Iggy, and I was hoping that we would develop a relationship as it turned its head toward me. It looked at me like it owned the place as it was pausing in the sun and I was the interloper. Then like a flash it made an abrupt about face and charged off to summit the stone wall where it dallied a while and dared me to get closer. And then like a shot something else grabbed its attention and it was off.

Movie of Iggy the Iguana

It is Iggy Again

Nick and Tasia arrived back from a more arduous hike but were ready for an afternoon of adventure. We decided that lunch at Shambles (a very colorful Caribbean themed restaurant which we had passed on other island excursions ) was a good choice and then on to Haulover Bay for a final snorkeling adventure. This would be our last chance to have a close encounter with any of the mythical sea serpents, not very Disney-ish mermaids and sirens, sea demons and devil fish, or a“jumbie” (a mythological spirit or demon) that inhabit these waters (in the folklore of the Caribbean.

Food first! Shambles was named after the state of the proprietor’s lives following the 2017 hurricane season. If one’s preference is muted pastel shade, Shambles would be an assault to one’s senses. Stepping out of the Jeep Wrangler, I could feel the casual relaxed vibe and was totally energized by the vibrancy of the colors and relaxed, casual atmosphere. It’s not fancy but has lots of character with local art work, walls and ceilings floating with flags, old license plates and tons of memorabilia. Sitting at high tables, enjoying the breeze and just soaking ion the Caribbean vibe was perfect.

Afterward, we traveled out the East End Road with its potholed roller coaster surface to Haulover Beach. The beach is easily accessible…no long hot sweaty hikes to reach it. It was pebbly and coral strewn and more rugged than other beaches thus not so gentle on the feet when entering the water. But the water was clear, there were few people, and the photo ops abounded. It was a perfect natural aquarium to close out our St. John’s fish safari and coral quest.

It was now time to return the snorkeling gear in Cruz Bay. As we wandered the dive shop area, we encountered a peacock with its iridescent blue coloring of the upper body and many shades of green in the long tail feathers. Right above it was a playful “Mosaic Fish” with tiles shimmering in similar shades of deep blue and emerald green… all part of the charm of St. John..

The next hours of the evening and morning were spent preparing to exit the villa and packing up our stuff. For a change I did not accumulate any souvenirs and other stuff and junk to bring home, thus saving myself from any additional dusting chores. So it was: eat the leftovers for dinner, stuff the suitcases, consolidate the garbage, prepare sandwiches for the journey, take more pictures to add to the 565 + pictures I had already taken, take garbage to dump, return the Jeep Wrangler (totally unscathed miraculously), and make our way to the ferry dock.

The departure from St. John’s to Red Hook went according to plan. Arriving at ferry dock, luggage in tow, about 45 minutes ahead of time. We settled ourselves in this dockside pavilion and purchased tickets online for ourselves and our bags! As departure neared, the open air “safari taxis” disgorged a crowd of people that began amassing for the 10:00am ferry departure. Nothing was sterile about the atmosphere here. with many colorful locals, travelers from the upscale resorts each toting four of five pieces of luggage, squealing children, and even a few suited business persons. The crew began manhandling and stacking the luggage, all piled in the rear of the ferry with no “ticket” to prove that I had indeed entrusted my luggage to them.

We glided across the turquoise water, a short 20 minute trip to the Red Hook terminal where the communal taxi’s awaited. Once the luggage was retrieved , we joined the ground transportation queue to Cyril E. King Airport for our return trip to Philadelphia. The route was one last seat gripping harrowing experience of hairpin turns and winding mountain roads. The airport is not large or imposing yet funnels thousands through daily and we parked ourselves in the waiting area preparing for our re-entry into “real life”. We mused that in about 7 hours we would be back in Philadelphia. WRONG!

Then the real adventure began. Over the intercom came the announcement that our flight to Miami would be departing a little later than scheduled. With this delay we were fearful of missing our connecting flight in Miami, especially due to a short connection time of 50 minutes. By the time we left however, we had already heard that there would be a delay in the departure time for or Miami Philadelphia flight. I could stop sweating. The flight was uneventful and when we arrived in Miami little did we realize we would have 18+ hours to spare in to make our Philly flight.

Initially the flight delay was about 2 hours so we settled in and made no effort to reschedule the flight. However the departure time kept getting pushed back though the flight was NEVER cancelled and we were subjected to an inordinate amount of boarding time changes. The changes kept coming in with little explanation and we were left totally unsure of whether we should try to rebook, wait at the airport, or get lodging in the area. Miriam attempted the customer service line at the airport but it was 40 people deep . Miriam managed to get us on a stand-by wait list but we already knew finding five open seat was a non-starter. When Nick called AA the telephone queue was lengthy so he left his number as suggested to receive a return call. No return call ever came through. Eventually with the departure time getting later and later and all the attendants had left the gate area, we began to realize we were on our own for the night in Terminal D. . Talk about a stressful, exhausting, discombobulating and baffling experience.

Airports are noisy with their cavernous ceilings and the bustle of travelers shuffling through the corridors, the clatter off the luggage rolling and the chattering voices. But here in Miami there was a new sound, a high pitched beeping of the autonomous wheelchairs roaming about the concourse, a special feature in Terminal D the American Airline’s domain. Modern technology can be a wonder but also a huge annoyance when it beeps, pings, chirps, dings and these wheelchairs cruised about with their nagging beep-beep-beep. Thankfully at some point they were put to bed at their charging station.

Since we soon realized that all of the shops would be saying goodnight to those stranded, we made our last foray along the corridor to procure the libations we deemed we would need to weather the nighttime in the airport , right there in the eerie “Blue Corridor.” Miami has a color-coded system so the North (D) concourse has a special identity as “Blue.” Yes, dramatic bright blue lighting was bathing terminal D, meant to be aesthetic as well as way finding in this mile long concourse . So unless you are color blind , just follow the lighting you are matched too. . Perhaps they will soon have boarding passes that match the color of your corridor.

Miriam and Luke wandered elsewhere hoping to find a quieter more comfortable place to hopefully sleep rather than on the hard terrazzo airport floor bathed in blue light. Tasia and I appropriated the charging station in our waiting area ensuring limitless iPad power to watch movies in a blue haze. . Could I sleep? The design of the seating precludes comfort.. There is no place to stretch out on the rows of rigid chairs with their immovable dividers and thus precluding any attempt to create a makeshift bed. The only option became the industrial grade floor covering in the waiting area with its dust, dirt, stains allergens and blueness. NOT for me. I figured I would sit the night out watching movies.

About 1:30 in the morning (sleepless in Miami) Nick decided to do a long run of about 4-5 miles. I need not have worried that he would get lost in this cavernous airport because he would be able to find his way back, after running the red and yellow corridors, to the blue corridor.

At some point a text came through that the gate was changed and we then would need to make our way down the concourse to our new gate towards the far end . Thank god for the blue corridor of light or we might have gotten totally lost on this very strait direct passageway to our new blue lighted gate. When an announcement came through that our flight now had a confirmed departure time, a rousing cheer sprung forth from the remaining 50 or so passengers who had not made any other alternative arrangements as they preferred to bask in blue light .

Salty Watermelon and Rum Fueled Ruins

September 4, 2025uniquelytheo1 Comment

We awoke on the tenth to another beautiful Virgin day and after easing into the day via coffee poolside our adventure was to Watermelon Cay. Parking was by the Annaberg Plantation and to reach the Cay Beach there was an an .8 mile coastal walk on the Leinster Bay Trail- a more leisurely walk compared to the our more strenuous hikes. It was bordered with sea grape trees and mangroves instead of cacti and scrub vegetation.

Watermelon Cay is a rocky islet offshore and it is ringed by rock ledges and coral reef. From the beach it looked like a small green dome. I decided I was still a strong enough swimmer to access it and trotted off to the end of the beach trail in order to enter the water at the closet point for the swim to the Cay. It was rocky and wasn’t exactly the easiest entry but setting out felt almost surreal as I was” coasting “ across open slightly choppy turquoise waters. My goal was to swim around the cay and headed counter-clockwise negotiating the seaward side first.

This is the colder deeper and choppier side. The reward was exponential, feeling otherworldly, with layers of fish darting about (including yellow snapper and blue tangs), massive coral heads, and translucent moon jellies pulsing about. Fortunately when I cruised through the swarms of moon jellies, I didn’t get stung. Moon jellies I guess mean no harm and are the “goldfish” of the jellyfish world. This was by far the best snorkeling yet and I was quite disappointed that I had seemed to forget my underwater camera though upon rounding the other side, I discovered I had tucked it inside my swim bra under my sun shirt. Well, I thought, I probably would have taken another batch of bad photographs. Circling back around the reef to the front side felt less dynamic and colorful than the outer reef side though there was still quite an array of corals and tropical fish.

I decided to drift back toward the beach of Leister Bay over the sea grass beds looking for stingrays and turtles. While scanning for movement in the sandy sea gras beds, I spotted a Hawksbill Sea Turtle. It didn’t seem to mind my presence there and went about chomping on sea grass. I swam about with it, all the while bobbing around clumsily trying not to startle it. Shortly, I was able to flag Tasia down as she had the camera. Pretty good photo-ops for a couple of minutes but then with a few strong strokes it slipped away into the gras beds and I swam toward the beach .

Movie of Hawksbill Sea Turtle Swimming and Chomping

Having had an extremely satisfying snorkel, it was time to retrace our step back to the car and tour the Annaberg Sugar Plantation (Anna’s Hill in Danish). This decayed ruin of a once thriving producer of sugar, molasses, and RUM relied on slave labor to grow cane, crush the stalks, boil and export sugar. With the leftover molasses, fermentation, (probably know since Adam and Eve ate that fermented apple) magically turned the molasses into rum and thus these plantation became large Caribbean cocktail factories and the planters got rich, the slaves got exhausted and many a sailor got drunk. Annaberg thrived until the mid-1800’s until hurricanes, droughts, depleted soil, emancipation of slaves and competition resulted. By the end of the 19th century Annaberg was just ruins, the ruins we see today over looking Leinster Bay.

The centerpiece of the ruins is a cylindrical windmill tower (these towers can be seen dotting the island) and I kept trying to imagine what it would be like with the wind turning gears going full blast. I imagine a mini torture chamber that is cramped hot dizzying, sweaty, noisy. Moving onward to the boiling house ruins, which housed rivers of concentrated sugar and molasses running through it channels. My former drinking self would have been delighted to know that this would have been the area where the rum was distilled. Of equal fascination was the decaying walls made mostly of coral stone with stones varying significantly in size. Now vines and creepers crawl over the walls and grass, flowering plants and ferns sprout in the cracks and crevices., moss and lichen fuzzy up some portions.

After one of our express meals Nick and I opted to discover Trunk Bay, one of the closer reefs to Cruz Bay, popular with tourists, and and well developed beaches with food stalls, restrooms, showers, and an entrance fee. It is often ranked among the world’s most beautiful beaches etc. This evening, without a swarm of sunbathers, cruise ship crowds, snorkelers and any other variety of tourists, it was indeed beautiful. I had not intended to snorkel and just went along for the ride to keep Nick company but I did transport my gear down to the beach. And even though it was not on my agenda, it took only minutes to respond to the alluring vibrations of the turquoise water and decide to don the gear and the enter the calm bluish-green shallows and follow the underwater snorkeling trail. After a few minutes I determine this trail was designed for brand-newbies and most likely a more gimmick than a “real” snorkeling experience. It was underwhelming and in no way comparable to the one on St. Croix. So I ditched the trail and headed over towards the rocky outcropping just east of the trail, Trunk Cay. The upside of being here was the sun was beginning to set illuminating the sky to a pale yellow, the bay was calm, we were on a gorgeous beach and there were very few people. We enjoyed a leisurely snorkel admiring the giant boulders of brain coral along with the regular population of blue tangs, parrot fish, damselfish, angelfish, sea fans and corals.

Enroute back to our villa, Nick and I stopped at the National Park Sign at the entrance and snapped my obligatory sign photo, the tradition since my first park visit when I was in 6th graded at the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. This is the 62nd installment of many awkward photos next to the National Park’s brown wooden signs. Yes, everyone takes them but if I didn’t how else could I prove I actually went. Soon we were back at the villa and we enjoyed the pool, the starry night and twinkling lights of Chocolate Hole in the distance.

A Jutting Ram and Domesticated Equines

September 2, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

We had three more full days to explore St. John’s and the Virgin Islands National Park and I definitely wanted to fill them primarily with snorkeling and hiking. Our choice for Day #6 was the Salt Pond Bay Coral Reefs and the Rams Head hike, accessed from the beach on Salt Pond Bay. We had hoped for a more “private” snorkeling adventure and opted to head east and south to the Salt Pond Reef in the south west part of St. John’s betting that the the driving distance and the 1/2 mile hike in would deter any crowds.

We were greeted at the trail head by a couple of the permanent wild residents of St. John’s. – a couple of stubborn and unpredictable domesticated equines (aka burros and donkeys) sauntering down the trail to Salt Pond Bay. Eventually they veered off into the scrub along the trail but I kept my eye out unsure of where they might pop up again. We made our way down the full sun, rocky, dusty half mile trail to Salt Pond Beach. We came upon Salt Pond just before we approached the shoreline with a sandy strip separating the salt pond from the bay itself. Historically residents would harvest salt from ponds like this .

In that the day was heating up and it was already 9:15am, we opted to make our way east and across Salt Pond Bay and the sand beach. This section was easy until I reached “blue cobblestone beach, ” the nickname for the shoreline here of volcanic stones that have a bluish-gray tint. Now it was slow careful steps so as not to roll an ankle on these rolling shifting stones with each step a bit of a wobble and a clatter. But once back on firmer ground the trail began to climb up, mostly in full sun, through dry coastal scrub, a plethora of the very phallic Turk’s Cap Barrel Cacti, and views of the Caribbean’s turquoise waters.

This is windswept terrain was at its best and the wind sweeping across the trail at times tried its best to blow me over. Ram Head can best be described as a dramatic headland jutting into the sea and the reward for this close to one mile hike is a 360-degree view of the surrounding waters. Salt Pond Bay was sparkling with sapphire and ultramarine hues and the Atlantic sported a shimmering deeper blue color. It was an exhilarating experience standing atop the “ Ram” with the wind sweeping across the “Head” and the ways crashing below.

Our hunch was right and we were fortunate that we didn’t have to share this bay with an overdose of other snorkelers. It was now time for snorkeling and time to face the awkward task of entry into this underwater world. It should be easy from this sandy beach but donning the gear was not without its comedic side. Do I sit on the beach and don the fins? But I recollect that when walking in them previously, I waddled like a penguin. So I waded out into shallow water at the beach midpoint and plunked myself down. It seemed to be going well as I struggled to put on penguin shoe #1 until a small wave arrived and not only moved me around but swept the other one towards shore. I somehow eventually managed to secure both flippers on to my feet, secure the mask to my face, and get the snorkel into my mouth. I quite ungracefully tried a dolphin dive into the water resulting in getting a snorkel full of water and a mask that became an indoor pool for my face. Seems I forgot to push up the forehead hairs thus breaking the seal. But eventually success! I was cruising along toward the rocky ledges of shoreline and its coral gardens and reef fish. Parrot fish and blue tang abounded and I was enjoying the metronome of sea fans. It was exhilarating.

Exiting in the middle with its grassy beds, I was quite content with my adventure until I compared notes and my lame photos with Tasia’s and my few blue tang and blue parrot paled compared to her exquisitely captured images of a Longspine Squirelfish, a Threespot Damselfish, a Gray Angelfish, a Parrotfish, an Ocean Surgeonfish with an Foureye Butterflyfish, a school of Dwarf Round Herring, a Moon Jellyfish and a Hawksbill Sea Turtle. Clearly she is the expert photographer and I definitely qualify as the inexpert…though I am quite good at using Google Images to identify the fish she captured!

Following a very satisfying hiking and snorkeling adventure it was time to cruise on to Cruz Bay heading up route 107 to Coral Bay. I kept trying to film us traversing the road to hopefully capture a video and pictures of the road as it rises and falls along dry scrubby hillside replete with its uneven pavement, potholes and washed out edges as well as the occasional donkey or goats along the roadside. Not too captivating footage resulted. Passing through Coral Bay, a quiet village, we continued on route 10 twisting and climbing and dipping up and down the mountainside until we arrived in Cruz Bay and headed up to our villa for a chill afternoon and preparation for dining out.

Our dining choice was Morgan’s Mango Restaurant which features a Caribbean vibe as well as Caribbean food. They claim a bit of a mix of Creole, Bahamian, Cuban, Jamaican, Haitian, Puerto Rican and Mayan. I am not sure which cuisine inspired my “coconut panko encrusted fresh grouper sautéed in organic cold-pressed coconut oil until crisp on the outside & moist within— served with a white wine, coconut, lemongrass reduction a unique Caribbean blend of a potato/yuca mash & fresh seasonal vegetables.” Whichever island was the inspiration for our dishes , they were exceptional…and when sated it was then onward to the villa for a swim and relaxing poolside beneath a sky blanketed with stars.