ECHO HILL PRODUCTIONS - Blog - Alycin's Adventures

SUMAC LEMONADE

8/31/2024

Alycin Hayes

To hear Alycin Hayes read Sumac Lemonade go to podcast Life is a Trip!

Standing quietly by the fading embers of my campfire, I listened to the songs of morning birds. My blue tent, slack with the weight of evening dew, dried slowly as a strengthening sun rose in the sky. A grove of ripe sumac trees on a nearby rocky hill invited me to harvest them. Bucket in hand, I made my way to gather their red fruit. They were easy to reach as the trees were small, not even eight feet tall. In a short time I filled my bucket with as much of the furry fruit as it would hold and returned to my campsite to prepare to make sumac lemonade.
The sun, now reaching its full height in the clear sky above, embraced me with an invisible blanket of hot air making my body perspire profusely. I removed my clothes and lay face up in the tall grass. Occasionally, a grasshopper would brush its body against mine, in a search for fresh blades of grass. I didn’t move - until the birds stopped singing. Suddenly all was quiet, a strange yet familiar silence made me sit up to listen intently. My gaze turned toward the now voiceless marsh.

"Occasionally, a grasshopper would brush its body against mine, in a search for fresh blades of grass."

A dog barked. Three mallard ducks flew up above the trees briefly, then disappeared loudly on the other side of the wetland. Again a dog barked, followed by the sound of horses trotting on the trail which lay west of the woods.

Nervously I arose, pieces of dry grass still clinging to my naked body. For a moment, I stood frozen, staring in the direction of the approaching horses, not sure what to do, when out of nowhere a white-talied deer bounded past me into the sumac thicket. Without thinking, I quickly followed and hid myself within the foliage of this sanctuary. Crouching low, I watched and waited.

The horses' hoof beats were now accompanied by voices of men and women that seemed somehow familiar. I remained concealed.

The riders arrived and quickly dismounted, holding their horses motionless like statues as they searched with their eyes for the occupants of my camp. The dog cautiously sniffed at the smoldering ashes of my morning fire. A naked child, I recognized, ran to my bucket of red sumac berries, picked up one bunch and took it gleefully to a woman sitting beside my fire pit.

How did I know this child with long dark hair? She was remarkably familiar.

I could smell the horses sweat as it rose from their steaming bodies and felt their relief when the riders removed the wet saddle blankets. Set free, the small Attawandaron spirit horses quickly bowed their heads to feast on the surrounding tall grass.

In no time at all, my visitors erected three wigwams in a circle around my campsite and made a roaring fire. After cooking a meal on it, they ate their fill, casually throwing scraps to the dog while occasionally glancing around, waiting, looking for the owner of the camp to return. I silently remained hidden, watching. They could not see me.

The young girl ran from one to the other laughing and cheerfully chatting about grasshoppers, food and the fire until she finally fell into a deep sleep beside one of the wigwams. A smiling woman carried her inside. Tired from their long ride, the rest of my visitors also entered into their respective wigwams to sleep. My camp returned to woodland silence, disturbed only by the sounds of breathing sleepers. Like a night owl, I watched silently from the woods. Gradually, distant memories began to fill my head.

While pondering these echoes in my mind, a howling wind blew across the campsite lifting a spark from the ashes of the campfire, carrying it to the dry grass around my camp. With incredible rapidity the tiny spark changed into flames that hungrily licked at the dry meadow.

From my sumac hill I could see dense gray smoke rising. I saw angry flames, galloping horses, yelling people, whimpering dogs, more roaring flames and heard a desolate crying girl.

"From my sumac hill I could see dense gray smoke rising. I saw angry flames, galloping horses..."

Suddenly I knew! The little girl was me, lifetimes ago.

I felt her horrendous burning pain. We began to scream. Our voices became one, screaming again and again, louder and louder until no voice was left. Intoxicating black smoke darkened the sky. I lost consciousness…

Awakened by the song of chirping crickets I found myself alone, surrounded by night. Pale moonlight revealed no sign of the previous day’s visitors or devastating fire. The wigwams had completely disappeared. The deadly smoke was gone. All that remained was my blue tent with a bucket of sumac berries next to it.

Had I been dreaming?

I wondered, that is until I saw the small bunch of sumac berries the child had removed from my bucket still lying next to the cold ashes of my campfire.

… a message from another time.

Wrapping myself in a blanket, I squatted beside my fire pit, lighting a new fire to boil water for my sumac lemonade.

Yes, the little girl was gone, but not entirely...
Perhaps we were one and the same - shared lifetimes apart.

My Recipe for Sumac Lemonade

Harvest ripe, red sumac berries.
Place in a large pot.
Cover with water and boil over a campfire.
Allow to sit for an hour to cool.
Use a wooden spoon or your hands to "smoosh" the berries
Strain.
If you want sweetener use a little local honey or maple syrup. Enjoy.

Photo of Sumac tree by Patrice Werner

Alycin Hayes has spent much of her life adventuring all over the world. If you enjoy her blog you will also
want to read her books: Amazon Hitchhiker: A Woman’s Adventures from Canada to Brazil and her award-winning children's book Milo and the Mustang

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Hitchhiking in Brazil -What Not to Do!

10/23/2023

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Freedom's Just Another Word...

I returned to Brazil in 1977 with my best friend Jan Kalmusky. We flew from Toronto to a city located at the mouth of the Amazon River, Belem. After landing in this humid, equatorial old Brazilian port we set out to explore its beautiful colonial Portuguese architecture. Running along the dock by the river we found a vast open-air street market that sold all kinds of jungle fruits and Amazonian fish we had never seen before. Also for sale were indigenous handicrafts, a large array of young monkeys, colorful parrots and other rainforest animals I could not even name.

Squirrel Monkey - Photo by Garten-gg

There was one adorable, baby squirrel monkey that we could not resist. We impulsively bought it and took it home to our hotel where we soon began to realize owning a monkey was a huge responsibility. After it pooped all over our hotel room the poor creature's charm began to fade. We couldn't possibly travel with this baby monkey so we took it to a local park knowing that someone there would take it in. I still feel immensely guilty for buying it. At the time I didn't understand that its mother had certainly been killed to capture it. Poor baby.

Soon after abandoning our little orphan we left Belem and started hitchhiking south east singing "Freedoms just another word ...". You see we heard that Janis Joplin had hitchhiked around Brazil so we thought if she could do it, we would too. Why not? We were two foolish, young, 23 year old blonde girls on the road to Rio. It seemed like a great plan.

Alycin and Jan in front of a snow bank just before they left Canada for Brazil.

Our hitchhiking adventure started out well...

Jan hitchhiking surrounded by fascinated Brazilian children.

Our hitchhiking adventure started out well until we were dropped off in the middle of nowhere on a lonely dirt road bordered by dense jungle on either side with nothing else in sight. For the best part of a day we were forced to wait for a ride by the side of this road as we melted in the burning hot sun. Jan sat on her blue suitcase and I rested against my orange backpack. There was no traffic at all, not a single vehicle. Bored and dusty we wondered if we would be there forever. Eventually as the sun moved toward the west a big truck came along and stopped for us. We joyfully jumped into the cab of the truck, thankful to finally have a ride.

As we traveled down the dusty dirt road in this old truck I began to smell something really terrible. Did the truck driver have a serious problem with body odor? I turned my head to see what was in the back of his truck and noticed a rifle on the rack above our heads. This was concerning. Why hadn’t we had enough sense to check the truck before we got into it?

Looking further back into the cargo bed of the truck I discovered with horror the source of the terrible smell. The back of this truck was open and full of dead bodies covered with millions of swarming, buzzing tropical flies. Deceased cows, unrecognizable roadkill and who knows what else were behind us in various stages of decomposition. I recognized the skeletal remains of a horse. Its unseeing eyes stared directly at me. I had to look away.

The smell was overwhelming. I opened my window wider to be able to breathe and not vomit. Thank goodness I had the seat next to the window. Poor Jan was stuck in the middle. We exchanged frightened glances, regretting ever entering this truck of horrors. It roared on as we both stared straight ahead through the dirty windshield trying to figure out a way to exit, without offending our truck driver. He had a rifle! There was nowhere for us to legitimately ask to get out on this stretch of lonely road because we were still surrounded on both sides by dense rainforest.

Worried that he would angrily shoot us if we asked to get out of his truck without good reason we remained silent. Perhaps his plan was to kill us anyway. I imagined him roughly throwing our murdered bodies into the back of his truck with the rest of the rotting beasts. Our poor families back home would never find out what happened to us.

Terrified we rode along silently for miles, powerless to escape the appalling stench of his disgusting cargo. Eventually we arrived in a small town. Here our truck driver explained to us that he was an “homen matadouro”. It was his job to pick up dead and dying animals from ranches and roadkill from along the side of the road to be rendered into fat. He had to drop off his load in this town. He apologized that he could not take us any further. We sighed with relief. This man was not a mass murderer after all, but a decent fellow with a ghastly job. We thanked him for the ride as he let us off at a bus stop in the middle of town. Grateful to still be alive, and away from the horrible smell we watched him drive away with his horrendous cargo.

Before we could decide what to do next we were approached by two friendly young Brazilian men. They explained that the next bus would not arrive until the following morning. I asked,
“Onde é um hotel ?”
They replied that there were no hotels in this small town and kindly offered us a room for the night at their house. Filthy and exhausted we accepted their kind hospitality, took very long showers to wash off the stench of decomposing animals and went to bed.

It seemed we had not been asleep for long when we heard something above us crawling on the rafters. Rats! Dozens of rats made their way above our beds threatening at any moment to slip and drop onto us.
Jan was terrified and began to scream hysterically. I had to slap her face to get her to calm her down. She insisted we leave this rat haven and spend the night instead at the bus stop. I reluctantly agreed. I didn't like rats either, but thought a bed in a house would still be safer and more comfortable than a bus stop on the side of the road. We packed our bags to go only to discover that our new “friends” had locked us in the room! We could not get out. We were trapped inside. Why had they locked us in? Were they going to sell us as white slaves or to a prostitution ring?

Rats were crawling above us in the rafters

At this point I knew we had to try to find a way to leave as soon as possible or who knows what might happen to us. Desperately looking around I noticed a small window above the dresser. It might be just big enough to enable our escape if we could get it open. I climbed up on the dresser and pulled on the window latch. It was stuck. My heart fell.
I looked down at Jan,
“ It won’t open.”
She encouraged me by saying,
“Try it again. You can do it. ”
Pushing with all my strength it finally moved. The window flew open. Overjoyed, I climbed down to get our bags. Jan crawled out first. I passed her our luggage and followed as quickly and quietly as I could. It was just a small drop from the window to the ground so we made it out safely without awakening our dubious hosts. We hurried away as quickly and as silently as possible.

The rest of the night we took turns sleeping on a cold concrete bench at the bus stop while one of us kept an eye out for our captors. At dawn a bus arrived and we climbed into it without even asking where it was headed. All we wanted to do was escape that town before the men who had locked us in discovered we were gone. Luckily our sanctuary bus was heading south east toward the beach which was exactly where we wanted to go.

From the safety of our bus we decided that even if Janis Joplin had hitchhiked around Brazil we had experienced enough Brazilian hitchhiking; for the time being at least.

Brazilian Beach - Photo by Leandro Verolli

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New 10 Minute Plays!

9/5/2023

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This summer I was delighted to learn my brother, Elliott Hayes had written several plays no one had ever seen before. Unpublished and yet to be produced they were discovered in boxes in The Stratford Festival Theatre of Canada Archives. I knew Elliott was a brilliant playwright, but I had no idea he had written so many wonderful plays.

Don't just take my word for it. Of course, I think he was a marvelous writer. Many others did too. Variety Magazine described Elliott as “a Canadian Noel Coward”. Canadian journalist Richard Ozounian described his play “Homeward Bound” as "one of the greatest plays that anybody has written in this country in my lifetime."

Renowned, Canadian author Margaret Atwood described his play Homeward Bound as "a brisk, intricate, and tightly-strung play with a lot of laughter." In a Globe & Mail feature, "Bound for Success" journalist Val Ross wrote "Hayes is emerging as one of Canada’s most successful playwrights.”

Shortly after this publication at age 37, in 1994, Elliott was tragically killed by a drunk driver as he was returning home from a recent trip to LA where he had just had dinner with Bette Midler to discuss her starring in one of his screenplays. His writing career was starting to really take off! Imagine what he might have accomplished if he had lived.

Elliott can't write any more plays, so finding these unknown dramas by him, is like discovering a theatrical treasure trove. I am excited to announce some of his newly discovered plays are now being made available for the first time through the Playwrights Guild of Canada - Canadian Play Outlet. In addition to several full length new plays, "Happily Ever After", "Jitterbug" and "As You Were" four of Elliott’s never before seen 10 Minute Plays were found and have just been released.

Elliott Hayes

After a little research I learned that the first book of 10 Minute Plays was actually published by Pierce Loving back in 1923 and included plays by Arthur Schnitzler, Ferenc Molnar and August Strindberg.

The North American “official debut” of the 10 Minute Play as a genre is credited to the Actors Theatre of Louisville’s 1977 Humana Festival of New American Plays. Elliott’s 10 Minute Play “Poison” was first produced at the Louisville Humana Festival of New American Plays. This script was also published in “Ten Minute Plays from the Actors Theatre of Louisville”, Vol. 3 and has even been used in several powerful films - “Poison” directed by Hester Schell and a feature film "6 LA Love Stories" directed by Michael Dunaway.

10 Minute Plays have continued to grow in popularity evolving into an exciting theatrical phenomena. Now a legitimate theater genre, they are ideal for short play festivals, comedy, drama and dinner theater evenings.

The natural time constraint imposed by this form encourages playwright's to create fast paced development of characters and plot, enabling actors to showcase their dramatic talents in a brief period of time to the delight of enthusiastic audiences.

Elliott's New 10 Minute Plays

“Middle C"- A 10 Minute Play about Music: Three characters, two musician’s and their evolving relationship.

“Who’s Laughing” A 10 Minute satirical play about politics: Ted reluctantly attempts to tell a joke to Ray who's persistent irritating questions create an incredibly relevant, insightful satirical comedy about politics.

“Oh Brother” A 10 Minute Play on An Age Old Theme: Mark and Steve are at a male consciousness raising retreat. Their conversation in this comedy ultimately evolves into the age old theme of differences between men and women.

"National Geographic”- A 10 Minute Comedy: Four young people on a safari in the heart of Africa encounter a venomous snake. Terrified, they debate what their next move should be to try to avoid being bitten by this deadly serpent.

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Seeking Elves in Iceland

5/1/2023

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"My world travels are never focused on seeing the sights. My interest lies in getting to know the people of a country and learning about their lives and culture."

Photo of Iceland River by Jon Auh

Vikings and their explorations have always intrigued me so when Icelandair advertised a round trip ticket from Orlando, Florida to Reykjavik, Iceland for just $250.USD I knew it was time for me to go. My flight was booked as soon as I could get a ticket. Barely able to control my excitement I found myself flying solo to Iceland.

Allegedly the original settlers of Iceland were afraid that their enemies would pursue them so they sent back a message to Norway that their island was an ice-land always covered with ice, but a larger island a little further west was a green-land. Truth be told it was the reverse. Subsequently the green island became known as Iceland and the icy island became Greenland.

Still concerned it would be freezing cold when I arrived in February, I brought two winter coats with me only to be pleasantly surprised that the weather was not 40F below when I arrived but just above freezing most of the time I was there.

The cheapest place I could find to stay was the Salvation Army Guest house. Slightly deterred by the name, I hopped onto a local bus from the airport and headed to downtown Reykjavik. Fortunately, it was not a place for the homeless down-and-outs but a clean centrally located international hostel and perfect for my budget. I shared a room with bunk beds and four other female travelers who told me this is the most charming and best priced guesthouse in Reykjavik!

My first morning in the hostel kitchen while eating a breakfast of delicious Icelandic yogurt I met another guest. When he learned I was eager to visit museums and learn all I could about Iceland and its history he kindly offered to take me to The Icelandic Phallological Museum. When we arrived I discovered it was the world's only genuine penis museum! The sole mammal missing was a Homo sapien, however apparently an old Icelandic man has already made arrangements to complete the collection when he dies. As titillating as visiting a penis museum sounds on a first date the hundreds of organs floating in jars of preservative fluid did nothing salacious for me and my new friend was rather intimidated by the huge Sperm Whale penis that was taller than him.

Sperm Whale penis

Deciding to continue my exploration of Reykjavik on my own, I walked over to the more traditional National Museum where I could learn about Iceland’s fascinating Vikings history. Norse sagas or legends were passed on orally from one generation to the next until they were written down sometime around the 12th century. I was especially intrigued by the tales about Iceland’s mystical elves and trolls. Impressed that Iceland's almost 100 percent literate population still firmly believes in the elves known as “Hidden People” I was curious to discover more.

My world travels are never focused on seeing the sights. My interest lies in getting to know the people of a country and learning about their lives and culture.

I tracked down Heida, a friend of my brother's, in Reykjavik. She invited me to dinner at her home to meet her family. When I told Heida of my fascination with elves and trolls she arranged for me to take a walking tour with Sigubjorg Karlsdottir “Sippa'' in the small nearby town of Hafnarfjördur, which reputedly lies at the crossroads of several powerful energy lines.

The first thing I learned from Sippa was the difference between trolls and elves. She explained “ Trolls are huge, live in the mountains and only come down to forage for food when it is dark. They are greedy and like to eat human flesh, especially the flesh of disobedient children. They can cast spells but are not particularly bright. If trolls don't make it home before the sun comes up they immediately turn to stone. Those that turn to stone can be seen as giant rocks with troll features in many parts of Iceland.”

Note to self, don’t wander through the mountains alone at night.

Sippa continued” The “Huldufolk” Hidden People also called elves are quite different. They look like us and for the most part are good-natured. Elves can also put a spell on you when they choose to do so.”

She led me to a huge rock on a hill in the middle town and told me about a man who wanted to build a house on this very spot. He asked the builders to get rid of the big rock. They tried to break down the rock, but couldn't move it. An elderly man who lived nearby told the builders you have a problem because the elf who lives here does not want to move. The owner thought about it and decided to build his house somewhere else.

I smiled as I began to comprehend the strength of Icelanders' belief in the Hidden People. Sippa finished her illuminating tour with a final declaration, “Everyone can see the “Huldufolk'' if you are open to them but it is the Hidden People themselves who decide who gets to enjoy their company.”

Left to my own devices I decided to hike out of town up to some caves where Hidden People were purported to live. Peering into the mouth of a dark cave I was surprised to hear someone behind me.
“Are you looking for elves?” I turned around to see who had spoken. A handsome short man with dark curly hair and striking green eyes stared directly at me.

With a warm smile he added, “ I have seen the Hidden People.”

At first I wasn’t sure if I should trust him. We were alone surrounded by looming black rocks, but when I saw the warm sparkle in his eyes I knew he was telling the truth. I felt an immediate rapport.
“Follow me” he directed.

It was as if he magically controlled my movements. I could not refuse. A ghostly mist fell upon us as we slowly worked our way to the top of an enormous hill where a colossal waterfall could be seen in the distance.

Mesmerized by its breathtaking beauty I blindly took a step toward the cascade. Without warning, I felt my feet slip and start to slide dangerously down into the craggy valley toward imminent death. Before I plunged any further my new friend grabbed my arm and pulled me back with surprising strength.
“You saved my life! I don't even know your name.”
“I am Thorsteinn. Be more careful around my big rocks, girl.”

“Yes, I shall. Thank you Thorstein!” After regaining my footing and composure I asked, “Do you live around here?”

He nodded and indicated with his hand to follow him to what appeared initially to be nothing more than another huge pile of rocks, however as we got closer I could see a wooden door and several windows with lace curtains.

“This is my home. My family has lived here for over a 1000 years”.
He went on to tell me his family were nature lovers who cared deeply about their environment. They would do whatever it took to protect the wild parts of Iceland.
“We know the land is alive and so we encourage people to think twice before tearing up our landscape. We do everything in our power to stop them.”

He opened the door to his house and went in. I wondered if I should follow but as he closed it behind him, the door disappeared as did all of the windows in his house, except for one. Thorsteinn unexpectedly appeared in this last window winking at me with eyes that sparkled like green northern lights, then he and the window vanished.

Icy rain began to fall. I was left alone, facing a giant solid rock. Seeking solace I cast my gaze up. An emerald aurora borealis warmed the dusky sky reassuring my suspicion that Iceland's Hidden People are alive and well.

Alycin Hayes at the Perlan Museum in Reykjavik, Iceland, 2004

If you enjoy my blog you may also want to read my adventure travel memoir Amazon Hitchhiker: A Woman’s Adventures from Canada to Brazil and my award-winning children's book Milo and the Mustang.

Check out our online Bookstore.

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Shakespeare & Sprites in Texas

4/2/2023

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Downtown Breckenridge, Texas 1920's

Oil rigs in Breckenridge, Texas 1920's

My mother, JoAnn Elliott grew up in an oil town about 100 miles west of Dallas, Texas.

In 1920 Breckenridge's population was 1,500. By the next year due to the oil boom this little Texas town’s population grew to 30,000 people. Overnight Breckenridge changed from a sleepy agricultural town to what was called the fastest growing, busiest oil city in the country producing millions of barrels of oil.

A few years later when my mother was born in 1926, there were estimated to be 175 oil wells pumping day and night within the town’s city limits. With this sudden influx of oil money new buildings popped up along the red brick downtown streets including The Palace Movie Theater.

Nobody had televisions back then so Saturday matinees became JoAnn and her five siblings window to the outside world. At the Picture Show she could escape the constant, rhythmic groans of smelly pumping oil rigs and enter a magical place where everything was possible.

When she was nine years old the film version of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” starring James Cagney, Mickey Rooney and Olivia de Havilland was showing. It was the child actor, Mickey Rooney, playing Puck, JoAnn was eager to see. He was close to her age, and she was a huge fan.

After lunch she and her sisters Betty and Alice Kate made their way past the oil derricks that dotted every block of town. They were close to being late for the movie. Running trying to keep up with her older sisters, JoAnn tripped and fell onto the hard brick street.

“Hurry up!” Betty shouted, then turning back saw her baby sister whimpering on the ground.
“She is hurt,” Alice Kate exclaimed. They both stopped.
JoAnn fought back her tears. “I am fine. Let’s go.”

The three sisters continued on to the movie as JoAnn valiantly hid the pain of her now throbbing finger. Barely able to open her little hand to give her nine cents to the ticket taker she forced a grin as they sat down to enter the world of Shakespeare for the first time.

JoAnn was enchanted by the film's fantastic forest fairies and sprites. She completely forgot about her bent, swelling finger as Mickey Rooney’s impish Puck charmed her in the film that led him to become a major star of the big screen. Shakespeare purists may not approve of this version of “A Midsummer Nights Dream” but after seeing it, little JoAnn was enamored not just with Mickey Rooney but also the Bard.

By the time this stoic little girl's mother was able to get her to a doctor JoAnn’s broken baby finger was slightly, yet permanently kinked. I have fond memories of sitting on my grandmother’s white hand-crocheted bedspread in my parents bedroom, as Mom told me why one of her little fingers was not straight.

This crooked pinky forever remained a reminder of that eventful afternoon when the mischievous Puck lifted her up from a Texas oil town to become a lifelong lover of Shakespeare. JoAnn went on to work in radio in New York, the Royal Shakespeare Theater in Stratford-upon-Avon in England and the Stratford Shakespearean Festival in Canada.

Alice Kate, Betty and little JoAnn Elliott

Mickey Rooney as Puck in "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

Jo Ann (Elliott) Hayes

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Make your dreams come true!

1/1/2023

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For many years I planned to write about my world travels. Just prior to the beginning of 2022 I accomplished my dream with the publication of my adventure travel memoir, Amazon Hitchhiker: A Woman's Adventures from Canada to Brazil.

Lured by unrealistic fantasies of the Amazon River I followed my dream hitchhiking south from Canada overland through Mexico and Central America to South America. What began as the adventure of a lifetime soon became a struggle for survival as I paddled a dugout canoe without a map or a guide deep into the unknown Amazon rainforest. “Amazon Hitchhiker" is the true tale of this journey.

To my amazement within a few days of being available for sale Amazon Hitchhiker became a new release best seller on Amazon. Positive Five Star reviews came flooding in from readers in Canada, United States, Ecuador, Europe, the UK, Australia, Tanzania and South Africa.

Throughout 2022, Amazon Hitchhiker continued to sell internationally appealing to young adventure travelers as well as older readers who wanted to relive the wild days of their youth from a comfortable reading chair.

As 2022 ends and 2023 begins I am filled with gratitude and the excitement a New Year brings.
Dream big!
Follow your dreams!
Make your dreams come true!
Happy New Year!

If you need help reaching your dreams I recommend you read Julia Goodfellow-Smith's book
"Live Your Bucket List: Simple Steps to Ignite Your Dreams, Face Your Fears and Lead an Extraordinary Life, Starting Today"

Not sure how to begin ? Alastair Humphreys' book Micro Adventures will help to get you started.

Readers in the USA please check out
Echo Hill Productions New Independent Online Bookstore!

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Adventures with 13 Marvelous Adventure Writers

11/29/2022

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One of the best things about writing my adventure travel memoir “Amazon Hitchhiker” is the remarkable adventure travel writers that I have connected with all over the world since it was published. Each and every one of the 13 adventurers listed below has encouraged and inspired me to keep adventuring and writing. If you enjoyed my book you will enjoy their writing too. (There are a few affiliate links in this blog. I will earn a small commission if you click through and make a purchase - at no extra cost to you.)

Jane Harries, an adventurer herself is the editor of a great online magazine in the UK “Adventure She”. Each issue has articles on women who are undertaking remarkably challenging empowering adventures. We have Zoomed a few times to discuss writing techniques and an article I wrote that was published in “Adventure She” magazine.

Alastair Humphreys is an adventurer who has bicycled around the world and paddled across the Atlantic Ocean! A prolific writer he has published numerous books about his adventures including adventure books for children and books on how to become an adventurer. Alastair's newest children’s book which I loved is The Girl Who Rowed the Ocean. He also writes regular newsletters to inspire new adventurers and kindly mentioned my book Amazon Hitchhiker in one.

Amit Vaidya recently published Backpacker to Nomad: A humorous travel memoir of adventure, discovery, despair - Oh, and the Monkeys! about his world travels and his goal to forever remain a Nomad. I look forward to reading it. Amit just set off on a new adventure in Asia which will no doubt inspire another book.

Bea Meitiner aka “Bea Adventurous” publishes a regular travel blog about her world travels, most recently an African safari and a marathon she ran in Sierra Leone. When she visited North America we had a delightful dinner together where we shared our travel stories and world views. World travelers tend to be open minded.

Brian R Mommsen author of Blue Zen Memories: Adventures of a Tropics Trader recounts incredible stories of his wild and crazy adventures traveling with his family in Mexico and Central America in the 1960’s. His next book will be about his adventures in South America.

Darcy Gaechter, author of the Amazon Woman: Facing Fears, Chasing Dreams, and a Quest to Kayak the World's Largest River from Source to Sea is the first woman to ever accomplish the incredible task of kayaking the entire length of the Amazon from the headwaters in Peru to the mouth in Brazil where the river enters the Atlantic Ocean. She continues to kayak some of the most challenging rivers of the world.

Harpreet Kaur Chandi skied across Antarctica pulling a sled with all of her supplies behind her. You can follow her incredible daily progress on her Polar Preet website.

Julia Goodfellow-Smith, author of Live Your Bucket List: Simple Steps to Ignite Your Dream, FaceYour Fears and Lead an Extraordinary Life, Starting Today is currently working on another book about walking the Camino de Santiago trail.

John McFadzean is on a lifetime quest to Stand Up Paddle SUP in every country of the world! This summer he added a few European Countries. John is one of the authors of The Bigger Book of Yes: 22 Adventure Stories.

Jon Doolan wrote Self-Publishing for Adventure Authors: Turn Your First Draft into an Epic Book you can be Proud of (The Adventure Author Series) and many other books on his adventures. This summer he ran/walked the entire length of the United Kingdom wild camping with nothing but a change of clothes in his backpack as he collected jokes from people he met. Jon wore out at least one pair of shoes! This adventure will soon be a new book.

Pamindiana Jones wrote When in Roam: A Comedy Travel Adventure Memoir about her spontaneous travels through South Africa, Asia, Australia and New Zealand and is working on a second book about more of her adventures.

Sal Bolton's first book was about her travels with an Australian Circus. Today she is in the final editing stages of her next book Letters From the Amazon.

Stanley Stewart, is an award-winning travel writer, who incidentally grew up in the same small Canadian town as I did. Stanley has written several hundred articles and three books about his adventures. My favorite book of his is In the Empire of Genghis Khan about riding his horse 1000 miles across Mongolia.

Not only have these adventurers inspired me, they have also welcomed me into a unique tribe of humans who put adventure travel above everything else.

Alycin Hayes has spent much of her life adventuring all over the world. If you enjoy her blog you will also want to read her books: Amazon Hitchhiker: A Woman’s Adventures from Canada to Brazil and her award-winning children's book Milo and the Mustang.

Readers in the USA check out my independent publishers online Bookstore.

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Top 5 Tips on How to Write Your Successful Travel Memoir

10/21/2022

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Writing a memoir involves reflecting on your personal travel experiences and how those experiences changed or shaped your life. It took many years for me to begin writing my adventure travel memoir, AMAZON HITCHHIKER: A Woman’s Adventures from Canada to Brazil. The COVID lockdown offered me the perfect opportunity. I was stuck at home alone, which left me free to write all day long. (There are affiliate links here. I get a small commission if you purchase through them at no extra cost to you)

1. How do you accurately remember the past?
First, dig out your old journals. It is imperative to keep a journal when traveling. The tiny details that make an exciting read can be too easily forgotten if not recorded as they actually happen. In addition to your own journals, search for old letters you may have sent home. My thoughtful mother saved all of my letters.

2. Contact the people you met traveling.
Ask them for their memories, too. Undoubtedly they will remember amusing moments that you may have forgotten. By connecting with your travel mates, you will also make them aware that you are writing a book. If they have any objections to being mentioned in your book, this is the time to find out. Get permissions in writing.

3. Focus your book's theme.
Your point of view should be unique. Consider why you are writing this travel memoir. A travel memoir is not a guidebook. It reflects and recollects your past journeys and how they transformed you. Be truthful. Sharing your embarrassing globetrotting blunders will make your book authentic and much more interesting for the reader.

4. The best stories paint vivid pictures through well-chosen words.
Colorful descriptions using metaphors or the occasional simile transform vague recollections into memorable engrossing moments. Using dialogue will help you to engage your reader. You want your reader to feel like they are experiencing what you lived so use your active voice. Adjectives can add color, but the overuse of adjectives, adverbs, or even similes tend to encumber a story. If you are unsure how to accomplish what you want in your writing, read and study some of the successful travel memoirs you admire and love.

5. Be brave. Be honest. Reveal a little piece of your soul.

I started writing my travel memoir AMAZON HITCHHIKER for my son. To my surprise, it became a #1 new-release bestseller on Amazon with many favorable reviews and a 5-star rating. It has quickly become a popular book that appeals to travelers of all ages; as well as those who simply dream of adventure from their cozy armchair.

Interview by Katelyn Silva with Alycin Hayes for the "1 Minute Writing Tip Podcast"
on how to write and "How Life Inspires Adventures".
Here are the links to listen or watch this interview:
YouTube: https://youtu.be/o2HoDSBFTTs
Podcast Platforms: https://1minutewritingtip.buzzsprout.com/1914765/11521784

Alycin Hayes has spent much of her life adventuring all over the world. If you enjoy her blog you will also
want to read her books: Amazon Hitchhiker: A Woman’s Adventures from Canada to Brazil and her award-winning children's book Milo and the Mustang

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I Sat on Queen Elizabeth's Throne

9/10/2022

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I Sat on Queen Elizabeth's Throne !

The Canadian Stratford Festival started in 1953 in a huge tent under the supervision of British director Sir William Tyrone Gutherie. The first two years of the theatre my father John Hayes was the stage manager while my mother JoAnn Elliott Hayes worked in wigs. In 1955 Dad moved onto the stage where he played Lepidus in Julius Cesar and the Tutor in The Merchant of Venice. Although not yet 3 years old I remember watching my first Shakespearean play with my Daddy acting in it. Shakespeare was my second language. I still recall being moved by Portia’s soliloquy “ The quality of mercy is not strained.”

In 1957 the theatre moved from a tent to a permanent structure built around Tanaya Mosavich’s brilliantly designed thrust stage. By 1959 Dad was the Festival’s production manager and was involved in the theatre’s arrangements for the royal visit of Queen Elizabeth and her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh, during their 45 day tour of Canada. On July 2nd, they honored the playhouse by coming to see Shakespeare's “As You Like It” at the Stratford Festival Theatre.

Royal protocol required numerous preparations to be made in advance of the Crown's arrival.

All of Stratford’s city councillors who had daughters between the ages of 5 and 7 put their names into a hat. My friend Margie Polley was the lucky five-year-old girl picked to give the Queen flowers when she alighted from her train at the Stratford station.

For days Margie rehearsed walking up to the Queen, performing a curtsy, giving her flowers and then walking away backwards because even little girls know, no one never ever turns their back on the Queen. I watched with envy at the train station when Margie gave Queen Elizabeth the bouquet. I so wanted to be the girl to give her the flowers until Margie told me that she nearly tripped while walking backwards.

I had to ask “ What did the Queen say to you when you gave her the flowers? “

She innocently replied “ I don't know. I couldn't understand her accent. “

The required royal protocol that fascinated my six-year-old self the most was the new toilet seat that had to be installed in the theatre’s VIP bathroom prior to the Queen’s arrival. It couldn’t be just any new toilet seat. It had to be a pearl toilet seat. Finding a pearl toilet seat in a small Canadian town in the 1950’s was not an easy task for my father however after an extensive search one was acquired just in time to be ceremonially installed along with a new toilet.

No one was permitted to use the infamous royal seat before Elizabeth arrived. It had to be kept completely sterile and sanctified in case she needed to use the powder room during the play's intermission. Whether she actually used it or not I don't recall but I do remember feeling exceedingly royal whenever my bodily functions required me to sit on what was forever after known to theatre insiders as the “Queen’s Pearl Throne”.

Video link to Queen Elizabeth’s 1959 visit to Stratford:
https://www.britishpathe.com/video/VLVA2O5E3OWPAME6XYUZ83MBZR0WV-CANADA-QUEEN-AND-DUKE-AT-STRATFORD-ONTARIO/query/ROYAL+VISITS?fbclid=IwAR19yjCJJ2rTu9arbBwF2A1-nHh7NZHVDUB--Ywwrt9inm3IDXCHpOH_9bw

Alycin Hayes has spent much of her life adventuring all over the world. If you enjoy her blog you will also
want to read her books: Amazon Hitchhiker: A Woman’s Adventures from Canada to Brazil and her award-winning children's book Milo and the Mustang.

4 Comments

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I Sat on Queen Elizabeth's Throne

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