Our 25th wedding anniversary arrives in September, but (1) both of us are in perennial busy seasons then and (2) I was told one of the best times to visit Slovenia was when May transitions to June. Last November, while my wife sweated out a missions trip in Sierra Leon, I designed a trip and crafted a proposal for a 6-day circuit of the Julian Alps and the Gulf of Trieste.
For our anniversary two or three years ago, Crystal gave me a coupon for going on an adventure with me. I cashed in that coupon for some tandem paragliding in one of my favorite spots: Bled, Slovenia.
I had paraglided here two years ago during a sabbatical to complete the edits and rewrites assigned by one of my book editors. On the one afternoon I had available for it, we had overcast conditions and little-to-no thermal activity. So, we didn’t get enough lift to extend the flight out over Lake Bled. On my second visit, I was stoked that we got to glide over those iconic waters.
Don’t you accept Crystal’s public reporting that she “survived” paragliding. While the takeoff got her heart rate going for a few seconds, she enjoyed the whole rest of the flight. Unfortunately, the camera her pilot held didn’t capture her face for most of the flight. But when I eventually joined her on the ground, she told me she liked it and would do it again. So, please do give her all of the adventure points; but don’t let her fool you about how scared she was.
I’ve paraglided in nine countries, and I can tell you this about tandem pilots: if there’s enough elevation to do aerobatics, they will gladly oblige your request for some. I’m not a fan of the spirals, but I’ll take wingovers every day of the week. So fun!
You’re almost guaranteed a good time in a glider when your body is level with the horizon line.
Crystal told me she could hear my “WOOHOO!” exclamations down at the drop zone.
Here’s the whole sequence of aerobatics. As I watched this replay, a smile broke across my face when I fist pumped after the pilot told me it was time for the good stuff and then again when he patted me on the shoulder. “You do love it!” (You can watch this short video here.)
When I tell people that I enjoy paragliding, the response is usually something about how they never could do that—how scary it is. I’ve done a lot of things BECAUSE they scare me: wing walking, bungee jumping, cliff jumping, etc. But paragliding is the opposite of that for me. It’s so peaceful up there. It’s a different kind of quiet. That rarified air washes around my smiling face, and I revel in something a tiny fraction of a tiny fraction of human beings experience—let alone in the context of history. No Caesar or Pharaoh or 19th century robber baron got to experience this. What a time to be alive!
While our pilots packed up our chutes, Crystal wanted to make sure we documented her thumbs up. It meant a lot to me that she trusted me, and I was greatly relieved to find a smiling face when I eventually landed in the drop zone.
The morning after this flight, I would swim out to that island and back. On this day, though, the distance seemed small: just the span from one foot to another.
I’ve done more billable work in the previous 12 weeks than in any 12-week span of my 22 years in business. My clients have seen emails from me before dawn and after midnight—sometimes on the same day. I collapsed into this trip, weary in mind and body. This cathartic flight helped me put all of that aside for an hour or two. (You can watch the video here.)
My pilot told me he’s been flying for two decades and hopes to fly until he physically can’t anymore. If I had a pilot’s license, that’d be my hope as well.
Since Crystal agreed to paraglide with me, I offered to offset the adrenaline with a slow four-course dinner in a 1,000-year-old castle. If this picture is any indication, it was a fair trade
This was the second page of the proposal I gave Crystal, when I pitched this abnormal anniversary trip. Which side of this diagram are you? Blue or green? If neither, what would be on your list?
It’s wild to think I’ve been married 25 years—that I’ve been married well longer in life than I haven’t been. I don’t have any advice and definitely no secret sauce. I just know it’s easier to stay married when you throw away the key.
It wouldn’t be an anniversary trip if Crystal didn’t have at least one afternoon to paint. When we got to Italy, she found the perfect, shaded perch to do just that.
On our 18th anniversary, I bought Crystal a new engagement ring and surprised her on a girls trip in Italy to propose again and then head home. Apparently, on that Italy trip, she fell in love with gelato—which was in abundant supply at our stops in both Slovenia and Italy.
We stayed in five different hotels during our six nights in Slovenia and Italy. Candidly, I was worried the nomadic nature of this trip might be too big a negative to overcome. But our two days at this remote retreat assuaged all of that. I was relieved when Crystal told me she had been able to thoroughly relax.
Part of that might be due to this being the view from our bed.
The water was still a bit too cold for swimming, but we both spent hours on the deck: reading, journaling, or doing something creative.
Our fantastic guide, Sebestyén, snapped this photo before we took our mandatory dip in the glacial water of the Soča River. He wisely required that we experience the shock of the cold before combining it with the shock of falling off the SUP in a rapid.
The first two and last two rapids were the biggest of the day, and Sebestyén warned us that the start would be a challenge for beginners. So, he offered us to paddle them on our knees. Since he had to be ready to assist if we fell out and since the bigger rapids made it difficult for him to float backwards while filming us with his iPhone, we have photos and videos only from the tamer sections of our trip. But you can still tell from this picture that Crystal gets serious adventure points for this challenge.
You get more stability the lower you bend your knees and the farther forward you insert your paddle into the water. That’s why I look like Carl Fredricksen from UP in this sequence. Haha
You can watch the video here.
I’ve never paddle boarded on a river. I’ve not run a river in the Alps since a hydro speed (whitewater with flippers, a helmet, and a boogey board) trip in Chamonix, France, a decade ago. I kneeled for the first two and last two sets of rapids but stood for the rest. The only time I came off the board was when I ran aground in some shoals. I managed an eddy swirl that impressed Sebestyén, who suggested I return for the two- or three-day whitewater course with bigger rapids and more technical challenges. So, yeah: I was stoked.
The water proved even more beautiful in person, and the mountains were constant 360º companions through the Soča Valley. Both of us would recommend this adventure and do it again. I knew Crystal was sacrificing comfort to try this new-to-me sport. So, I was more surprised she enjoyed this than I was that she embraced paragliding. In fact, I just asked her on the plane ride home if she liked the SUP trip, and she told me that was the third time I’d asked already—and that the answer was still yes.
Sebestyén Tóth is the man. The champion slalom kayaker, experienced whitewater kayaker, and surfer designed a unique whitewater paddle board, tailored to the kind of rivers common in the Alps. He told us only two have made it to the United States (in part because they cost $400 to ship, if you aren’t bringing one home in your luggage). We got to ride on those sick boards while he patiently instructed. He couldn’t hide his passion for the sport, if he had tried. Crystal and I peppered him with questions about his life story and his nomadic winters (while the Soča is closed for trout habitat protection). I hope I get to hang with this solid dude again—maybe with some of my American whitewater buddies.
Bovec is a whitewater Mecca with both tight-canyon creeking and gorgeous boogie water. Every tenth vehicle had Tupperware on the roof and/or stacked on trailers. I saw more rafts atop vans than I have during the Gauley release. It made me smile to see other Liquid Logic paddlers.
The youngest castle on our trip proved the most opulent. Archduke Maximilian of Habsburg (Emperor of Mexico) and his wife, Princess Charlotte of Belgium got to move into this humongous seaside residence as the American Civil War began. We didn’t go inside. Neither of us were interested. The botanical gardens and impressive grounds well communicated the vibe of this royal resort. This tiny harbor served as the private port for the king and queen who vacationed here.
I was impressed by the inherent undertaking of construction. Crystal was moved by the beauty. I wouldn’t be surprised if scenes from the Miramare Castle end up on the walls of our home as paintings or photo canvases.
Crystal and I have discussed for years that we’d like to upgrade the deck off our living room. Something tells me this is outside of our budget.
Rumor has it this horse was a gift from the Qatari royal family. What isn’t clear is whether or not the Habsburgs needed to sign an affidavit admitting the Archduke requested the gift when his other horse statues weren’t being built as quickly as he’d like.
If you see a statue like this in your travels, know that really good bread and olive oil are somewhere nearby. (I ate so much bread with butter or olive oil this week!)
I’m guessing this used to be a fountain. This struck me, as I’ve felt too dry lately to offer much to others (outside of those sending job orders to my inbox). I don’t want to be only a former fountain. During this busy season, I’ve done a better job than in past seasons at maintaining exercise, solitude, therapy, and life-giving conversations. So, I’m hopeful I can build on that after I figure out how to work fewer days and hours.
Unofficial historical records indicate that when Max brought Charlotte here the first time, she particularly loved this view but complained when she got inside. “Ugh. You’d think a place this expensive would come with better WiFi.”
The last time I swam out to that island, I did it on a whim. No training. No goggles. Just some board shorts I’d brought with me in case the weather allowed some waterfall repelling. I jumped in the water and crawled out to the island and back. The water was balmy on that July afternoon—tons of kids playing or eating ice cream treats.
This time around, I trained for two months in my YMCA’s competition pool and brought jammers, a triathlon-style wetsuit, neoprene booties, a swim cap, and goggles. This time, I chose a shorter route (shown by the green and yellow lines). This time, I swam at dawn in a lake a local told me was unseasonably cold.
I stood and then sat on this dock, working up the courage to jump in the frigid waters. The air was 52ºF. The water felt colder, but I don’t know. When I finally took the plunge, the cold too my breath away. It took me a while to catch my breath and get in my usual rhythm. My head was cold. My ears hurt. I kept reminding myself that my buddy at BUDS, training to be a SEAL, has been in worse and for days on end. I spent a few minutes on the island, having it all to myself before the tourist town woke up. As I got about halfway back to the dock, older couples walking the lake loop noticed my foolishness and seemed to stop to take in the spectacle. As I drew near the dock, I could hear my wakeup alarm singing from the phone I’d left in my Crocs under my towel. Anticipation had woken me early enough that I completed the full swim before I had intended to start my day.
I’m slow. In the water as in every active thing I do, I was gangly and uncoordinated. But I finished. And even I can’t take that away from me.
On the drive from Lake Bled to Bovec, I introduced Crystal to the Planica Nordic Centre—one of Europe’s preeminent ski jump practice facilities. While athletes practiced their form on one of the smaller jumps in the rain and while Crystal dove into a book on her Kindle, I squeezed in 9 holes of disc golf in probably the most epic course I’ve ever played. It felt like I was throwing discs around Jurassic Park.
It’s not often that a Snowcat is the backstop for a disc golf basket.
This is the base of the biggest jump at the Planica Nordic Centre. For local friends here in LynchVegas, this jump is like taking off from SnowFlex and landing level with the Fairfield Inn. Huge.
Last year, my buddy, Nate, bought me a day pass to the 2024 World Championships. I bought several commemorative discs but haven’t played with them yet. I thought a round at an Olympic training center in Europe made for a great occasion to dust ‘em off and let ‘em fly.
In addition to ski jumps and a disc golf course, the Planica Nordic Centre includes an indoor skydiving wind tunnel. In what would be a parking garage, it also holds a groomed cross-country ski course. (Link to video pending)
This is the harbor where Crystal and I spent two days before flying back to the States. The harbor was tranquil every hour of the day, especially at sunrise. But it was straight magical under the stars.
I took my journal and laptop out to this peer and wrote all the way through sunset. I had the whole place to myself because the beach club wouldn’t open for the summer until the day after we left. Watching clouds march gloriously overhead helped me exhale and disconnect from the incessant deadlines back home.
As we walked out of our dinner in Bled Castle, the sun had already set. I was struck by the symbolism of this church-like structure. What if instead of a Christianity that invites spotlights, followers of Jesus radiated an inner light, a tranquil glow from a beautiful soul? I’ve been formulating a blog post in my head for the past several months about a winsome Jesus instead, a quiet savior who attracts followers to simplicity, generosity, and wisdom. These windows said all of that to me. I know: I’m weird.
As we got back to our tiny hotel after our castle dinner, Crystal and I stood on the edge of Lake Bled and just absorbed the perfect temperature of the night air next to the smooth mirror through which I’d swim the next morning. I fully exhaled. Somehow, this lake knows my name or shares some acquaintances, because it’s been calling my name since I left it the first time.
We didn’t visit Ljubljana Castle during our afternoon and night spent just below it. But that doesn’t mean it failed to grab our attention.
I ate one of the best dinners of my life next to the Ljubljana River—the kind where you pause between bites to savor the sensations of taste and smell. I also struggled next to this river to give grace to all of the chain smokers puffing their cancer clouds into my lungs. That smell has a taste for me, and I despise both. I’ve had some heavy-but-rich conversations with my daughter since we arrived home, and it struck me that lots of my life holds both rich beauty and gross discomfort. If it were even possible to vanquish the parts I abhor, I’d no doubt also free myself from experiences that make me feel beautifully alive—fully human.
Each new town we passed or visited in Slovenia and Italy held captivating Roman Catholic churches. Some were tiny with unique steeples. Others looked more royal like this one near the Triple Bridge in Ljubljana’s old city center. Some perched atop hills at the highest point in their town. At least one was on an island. But none of them could be ignored. I felt uncomfortable in the ornate millennium-old chapel we visited. I prefer not to have gilded sculptures watching me pray. But there was something soothing of passing from one rural town to another and seeing the church first as we neared.
This was our hotel for our night in Bled. As with two other hotels during our nomadic circuit through Slovenia and Italy, the bread served at breakfast was worth what we paid to sleep there. So freaking good!
I told Crystal that I know Mount Sinai is where Hebrew scribes said Eternity interacted with mortals but that the cloud-swirled Julian Alps are what I picture when I hear “the mountain of God.” At one point of our drive from the Planica Nordic Centre to Bovec, I got a lump in my throat and moist eyes. I felt like we were driving through a sanctuary. I feel most human and most receptive of something bigger than humanity when I’m in environs that make me feel small—insignificant. When rugged immutability intersects with the fickleness of clouds and sunlight and wind, I absorb the intersection of foreverness and tailored comfort that makes me look at the stars and wonder about how long my soul will live after my body no longer does.
I sat here and wrote in my journal while storm clouds billowed like a whitewater river above. Eventually, lightning flashed across the water and a short rain brought a welcome chill to the air. We left our balcony door open and fell asleep with the caress of the post-storm breezes.
On our last night in Slovenia, I made a run to the airport to figure out logistics so that we wouldn’t have to wander before our dawn flight. On the way back, I pulled into this farmer’s field to watch the sun set on our anniversary adventure. It was the perfect end to a pitch-perfect trip.
Crystal snapped this cool shot on our rowboat ride to the Church of the Assumption of Mary. With motorized watercraft very limited on the lake, the slow journey to the island builds anticipation that leads to wonder upon arrival.
Bovec is a natural adventure wonderland. Any way you want to play in whitewater is available. Paragliding and skydiving vendors await courageous customers. You can repel waterfalls and zip lines. Mountain bikers and hikers eat big dinners after daily pursuits. You can play tennigolf and foot golf here (which I did on my last trip). Massive mountains stand guard over a sliver of a valley, and I got distracted by this view over Crystal’s shoulder while we ate dinner.
One of my weird habits is that I verbally say goodbye to places where I’ve escaped to write books & blogs and chase adrenaline & dopamine. This is where I said goodbye to Slovenia.
Two weeks ago, my daughter used her graduation money to purchase a pink beach cruiser bike, which she has affectionately named “Ms. Mabel.” When I drove past this bike in the doorway of a Kobarid, Slovenia, apartment, I immediately thought of Deonnie.
Ljubljana’s historic city center includes multiple interesting bridges, but Dragon Bridge was my favorite. For the past 124 years, these monsters have guarded the entrances on both sides of the Ljubljanica River.
In addition to an interesting church, Crystal can confirm that the top of those stairs also holds one of the best gelato carts we found during our week in Slovenia and Italy.
After ringing the church’s bell from the sanctuary, Crystal and I hiked the stairs to the top of the bell tower to see the century-old mechanical clock that creates the quarter-hour chimes we heard throughout the day. Crystal snapped this cool shot of the spire.
The mechanics of this clock intrigued me—as much the engineering required in the 1800s to make it reliable and accurate. I liked Crystal’s idea to showcase how timekeeping has changed over the past 150 years.
One of the great perks of traveling with a talented artist and someone who trained under esteemed painters is that she finds unique perspectives of well-worn tourist spots.
Crystal lets me plan our getaways. (1) I enjoy all of the research. (2) I’m good at finding new-to-us experiences. (3) She knows I know what she loves and values in a trip. That’s what 25 years of rubbing edges off each other will do, I guess. I took great delight in creating an anniversary trip that would stretch both of us and also plunge us fully into our respective happy places. We both did a lot of smiling on this vacation. We both got quietly lost in our surroundings. And we both ate slowly at foreign tables with Diet Coke next to our plates.
I’m 47 years old, and this was my first time eating at a restaurant where three knives were waiting for me at my pacesetting. This was by far the fanciest dinner Crystal and I had ever shared and our first ever inside a Medieval castle. I had to reserve our table a month in advance, and I still wasn’t able to score us a window seat—because I wasn’t fast enough when the dinner time slot when live on their website. I ate dinners I liked better on this trip, but we both reveled in the pomp & circumstance, the formality, and the adventurous menu that gave us at most two choices for each of our four courses.
Crystal and I just happened to walk past a fashion museum in Trieste. We had to tour it. I can’t speak for Crystal, but it took me back to the hours we used to spend on the couch watching Project Runway together. After you looked at previous contest winners, we got to vote in 2025’s contest. This was Crystal’s runner-up choice.
Crystal and I both voted for this interesting ensemble from the room of 2025 entries.
Unbeknownst to us, Trieste’s central plaza was hosting a vintage and art car show. I liked several of the vintage sports cars, but I thought this was a unique show piece.
I lost my temper in Trieste. Poor planning, worse emotional regulation, and a lack of patience led to me saying things about strangers that I regret. This cruise port was crawling with humanity—not a lot of personal space and even less room to park. I told Crystal I have zero desire to return to Trieste, even though we thoroughly enjoyed our resort just 20 minutes up the coast. So, maybe this sign was intended for me.
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