TOWN contributors share the travel moments that became indelible memories
I spent a summer waiting tables at a dude ranch in Durango, Colorado. One night after the dinner shift, a friend and I borrowed a ranch hand’s battered truck and drove all night to watch the sun rise over the Grand Canyon—and then drove right back in time for the next dinner shift. I’ll never forget it: the scenery, of course, but also the impulsive spirit, the grabbing onto the opportunity, the effort it took to make it happen, and how the benefits exponentially outweighed the effort.

Contributor Check-in

Anna Walker, graphic designer
Swimming with a pod of migrating whale sharks off Isla Mujeres in the Gulf of Mexico. They were the size of school buses and I even got to touch one.
Stephanie Trotter, writer
To celebrate my 30th birthday, my siblings and I did a tour de France sans bikes. The peak moment was devouring some type of fresh citrus sorbet on a sweltering afternoon while strolling through a gorgeous Riviera garden overlooking the Mediterranean. Pure magic.
Abby Keith, writer
Strolling Montmartre in Paris with my parents in high school, and they bought a small painting, smaller than the screen on a laptop. The oil painting was a primitive of the very street scene we were in . . . then returning 10-some years later as a young newspaperman, strolling Montmartre and buying a primitive oil painting of a Montmartre street scene, taking it home and discovering it was the SAME ARTIST.
John Jeter, writer
Staying in Patones de Arriba, a medieval town on the top of a mountain in Spain with a population of 12.
Sterling Crawford, columnist
Being hip-checked by an oblivious whale shark while scuba diving in Isla Mujeres, Mexico.
Morgan McCallum, writer
Got hired to shoot in Banff, Canada, so, of course, exploring was on the agenda. Some of the most beautiful scenes!
Chelsey Ashford, stylist and photographer
Spending an Easter Sunday in Ouro Preto, Brazil. They cover the cobblestone streets in an intricately patterned walkway (created with colored sawdust) for a procession from one church to the other.
Sarah Bonnette, writer