Some hikes are beautiful, some are challenging, and some change you. Hiking the Lost Valley in Glencoe, deep in the Scottish Highlands, was the closest I’ve ever come to sacred—a place where awe waits in the silence, the cliffs, and the fog.

We almost didn’t go. The timing wasn’t ideal, I was exhausted, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it alone. But we went anyway. This solo trip with my son to Charleston and Folly Beach reminded me that presence doesn’t have to be perfect — it just has to be real.

We crossed four countries, climbed mountains, and chased every moment — until we realized we were too busy to enjoy them. This isn’t just a story about what we saw; it’s about what we missed, what we learned, and why we’re trying to travel slower, with more room for wonder and less rush to do it all.

Travel is about more than the places we go—it’s about the people who shape how we experience the world. This post is a love letter to the friends who’ve hiked beside us, held space for our grief, made ordinary trips unforgettable, and kept lifelong promises across miles and years. These are the friendships that changed everything.

Two professors and 26 students left behind the traditional classroom for two weeks in Southern Italy. What began as a course on stress reduction and happiness became something deeper: an experience of slowing down, disconnecting from devices, stretching past comfort zones, and learning through connection, culture, and presence.

We stumbled into Hell’s Backbone Grill—dusty, hungry, and unprepared after a day of hiking in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. What we found in this tiny Utah desert town was one of the most remarkable farm-to-table meals of our lives.

Our afternoon and evening in Delphi turned out to be one of the most enjoyable parts of our Greece trip. We visited the Temple of Apollo and the Delphi Museum with a kid-friendly private guide, explored the ruins without crowds, and stayed in a quiet apartment with a stunning sunset view. A great stop for families traveling between Athens and Meteora.

As part of a study abroad course on stress and happiness, we set out to hike Crete’s Samaria Gorge—ten rocky miles with twenty students, most of whom had never hiked before. None of us were fully prepared for how challenging it would be—or how powerful. What began as a physical test became a lesson in resilience, connection, and presence—one that taught us more than any classroom ever could.

We came to Athens for the history—the ruins, the museums, the must-see sights. But what stayed with us were the moments we didn’t plan: chasing pigeons in the shade, running across a marble stadium, saying yes when it would’ve been easier to say no. We didn’t do less. We just did it differently.