Last week I traveled to Washington, DC, on Amtrak from New York for a daytrip of meetings. One great advantage of traveling with Amtrak is that even though it can be crowded, sometimes you can change your train ticket even after you’ve purchased it or missed your train, without any troubles. But I reserved a late train in the evening to ensure I wouldn’t have to rush out of the afternoon meetings.

Anyway, I did have some time in the evening to walk around DC, an occasion I rarely have and so I took full advantage. A friend met me for dinner at the Willard Intercontinental, and as the weather was summerlike, we sat outside, and I took in the political scene.

Almost every passerby’s conversation revolved around the recent election, and every corner store had Obama-Biden paraphernalia for sale. What made the night extra special for me was just before catching my train, around 8:30 p.m., we took a stroll down Pennsylvania Avenue right past the front lawn of the White House.

I probably had not done that since I was a little girl. Having traveled the world since then and having seen the homes of many heads of state from a distance, it was awe-inspiring and humbling to stand so close to the home of the President of the United States. It was peaceful, beautiful and a truly great symbol of this country. Whoever resides in the White House, be it President Bush, President-elect Obama or future presidents, I wish them all the best of luck, because no home so beautiful comes without hard work!

 Alex Young, vice president and associate publisher

Friday I am off for Beijing and Hong Kong. Shockingly, this will be my first trip to mainland China and, even though I have been to unusual places that most people have not traveled, China has eluded me. My staff, on the other hand, have taken opportunities to visit China over the past years, but I have been too bogged down until now.

China has presented us with business options as well. With the launch of eFlyer Asia this past fall, we find ourselves increasingly focused on the region and its travelers.

In Beijing I hope to play a round of golf at the Beijing CBD International Golf Club or the Beijing Golf Club (with views of the Great Wall from the first hole). The following day I will try to pack in the sights, including the Great Wall, before I start my business meetings on Monday. I will be staying at the Regent Beijing, and I am looking forward to what this property has to offer both the U.S. and Asian traveler.

Our eFlyer Asia newsletter has had an impact on the Pan-Asian marketplace in just a few short months. The opted-in subscriber base has doubled, and it has forced other magazines, one of which has published for twenty years, to start an online presence. Amazingly, this publication had no online site until we entered the market! Imitation is the grandest form of flattery.

In Hong Kong I have a busy two-day schedule of meetings with advertisers, public relations representatives, editors and investment gurus for eFlyer Asia and other extensions of this brand. I will end the week with a golf game at the Jockey Club Kau Sai Chau Public Golf Course, which just had a fabulous write-up in Travel + Leisure Golf magazine. There are three courses at this facility, and I will be playing golf with Mike Carey, head of golf operations on the East Course. Expect a GTee in an upcoming issue of Global Traveler USA and eFlyer Asia!

Future golf players in Beijing and Hong Kong will be sure to find a few lost Global Traveler logo golf balls next week - I consider it free advertising!

-Fran Gallagher, publisher and CEO

It has been a whirlwind week as I came back from a trip to Europe and immediately turned around for a trip to Los Angeles - talk about burning the candle at both ends. The trip was a star-studded event as I was able to fly on Qantas Airways’ Airbus A380 (the largest passenger jet airliner in the world) and play a hole with Tiger Woods at Trump National in Los Angeles.

The A380 was impressive. I was part of a VIP flight from LAX to San Francisco which turned around after buzzing the Golden Gate Bridge at 8,000 feet. The entire flight lasted about two hours and offered the 150 invited guests a chance to tour all four classes of service - first, business, premium economy and economy. The plane is massive with its double decker design. First, business and premium economy are on the top floor with the bottom floor devoted to economy.

Pilot and actor John Travolta was on hand for the flight and the press conference, as was Olivia Newton John, who flew over on the A380’s maiden voyage from Melbourne to join the festivities. The flight offered a chance for close one-on-one time with both celebrities - nice chatting and how do you dos. They both seem to be warm and friendly people.

In case you did not know, Travolta is a real pilot trained by Qantas and ranked to fly the B747-400. He is training on the A380 as well and he was all decked out in his Qantas uniform. Olivia was in a flight attendant uniform. Travolta also owns a B707 in the Qantas colors. Qantas maintains the plane in exchange for appearances, flight training and such - it all seems like a mutually beneficial arrangement.

During the press conference, I asked the final question to John Travolta. “John, how does the A380 first class compare to the configuration of your own 707?” He replied, “That’s a personal question!” and the audience roared with laughter. Geoff Dixon, Qantas CEO, added, “I know that we do not have double beds.” More laughter!

It was a great event and a wonderful plane, one that runs so silently and lifts off without any effort at all. The plane is more economical and it has a quoted per-mile, per-passenger fuel consumption that shows the behemoth does not drink great quantities of fuel.

I’ll save Tiger Woods for next week!

-Fran Gallagher, publisher and CEO

By early afternoon, the thrill and excitement of climbing Mt. Adams had been replaced by one thought: get to the top of this heap of ice and rock so we can say we did it, and get back down as quickly as possible. We kept pushing upward, now pulling on our jackets and hats as the wind blasted us as we crossed a ridge, a short time later peeling off layers as the wind subsided and the sun reflected off of glaciers and dark volcanic rock. I was so tired, tired, tired, and my legs burned with constantly stepping up and over the boulders that stretched forever up into the sky.

We finally reached Piker’s Peak–the so-called false summit at 11,657 feet–at around 2 in the afternoon. As we approached it, my sister and I thought we were actually nearing the summit. As we crested what appeared to be the final ridge, we saw with dismay that the actual peak was still half a mile and another 600 or so vertical feet away. Julie was utterly exhausted and proclaimed that she absolutely would not go any farther. She insisted that I go ahead with the rest of our party while she waited there for us. Reluctantly I went on, hating to leave my little sister behind after coming this far together.

Later, we topped the true summit and sprawled on the roof of a nearly ice-buried wooden hut, proudly signing the log book tethered inside a steel box. As we snacked on candy bars before giving up our hard-won perch, someone noticed that there was a figure approaching from below. We rose together and began cheering and applauding as Julie kept on, not stopping until she had joined us at 12,276 feet above sea level. I think I actually felt more pleased that she had reached the top than that I had.

We still had the long descent ahead of us, but at least it was going to be downhill, and we had a burst of energy fueled by our pride in our accomplishment. It would not surprise me to learn that the majority of climbing accidents happen on descents (as was the case with Derek Mamoyac) because one is tired and lets the vigilance of the ascent give way to the relief of the downward return. Such was the case with us. Once again, individuals and pairs in our group became separated, not everyone following the same route down. Julie and I quickly found that sliding down the glaciers and snowfields was much faster and more fun than walking up them. Without ice axes or any other means to slow our sliding except ungloved hands (and let me tell you, those pellets of semi-melted ice that make up the surface feel like your hands are plowing through crushed glass), we careened in a most uncontrolled and gleeful fashion until we got a good scare.

Julie hit an especially steep patch ahead of me and began to slide and tumble downwards until with a terrified scream she disappeared up and over a lip of snow to what I was sure was certain death (or at least paralysis) below. I approached the edge over which she had flown with dread, not knowing how far she may have fallen or what kind of shape she would be in. What a relief to see her lying  in the snow only four or five feet below me, a little shaken but clearly unhurt. From that point on, we used our backsides only when we were sure of what lay ahead and we could control how quickly we went. We were both very, very, foolish and very, very, lucky that day.

We all finally made it back to the campground late that day, tired, proud, and at least a few of us certainly wiser about the potential dangers of the mountain.

Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

This week we learned more about the survival of Derek Mamoyac, who was found alive and in relatively good condition after five days on Washington’s Mt. Adams. After Derek didn’t show up for work on Monday, October 13, a search was begun immediately on the mountain where it was known he had planned to make a one-day ascent with minimal gear on Sunday. Each succeeding day brought false leads but no sign of Derek, and with overnight lows in the 20s, the outlook was pretty grim.

We Northwesterners know how too often these stories play out, for every year there are several where we learn even fairly experienced folk fall victim to rapidly changing weather conditions, reliance on equipment or cell phones that fail them, or perhaps overconfidence in their own skills and abilities. Happily, this was not such a tale, for the young man was found Friday afternoon, suffering from frostbite and a broken ankle but in good spirits and having survived on creek water and a diet of bugs for several days.

I followed this story with particular interest, for back in 1973 several family members and I climbed Mt. Adams, following the same route as Derek did, but safely making it to the 12,276-foot summit and back in one day, although not without a few scares along the way.

The only really experienced mountaineer in the group was my dad, who in the early ’50s had been a member of the Crag Rats, a climbing and volunteer search and rescue group based in Hood River, Oregon. The route we would be taking up Mt. Adams on this particular August day, however, was not technically challenging, and we did not have crampons, ropes or ice axes, just regular hiking boots and backpacks loaded with food and water.

After spending the night just below timberline at a primitive campground on the south side of the mountain, we arose around 3:30 a.m. to begin our trek. The first few hours entailed hiking up a trail winding between boulders in a barren landscape, treading on fine glacial grit. As the darkness gave way to a clear dawn sky, we found ourselves well above the tree line and able to gaze out over the pine forests below and beyond to wheat fields to the east, the Columbia River to the south, and Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens (pre-eruption) to the west.

So far, the climb had been nothing more than a hike, but now we began working upward, sometimes walking up snowfields, sometimes stepping up ridgelines over endless staircases of boulders ranging in size from basketballs to cars. It was here that our group began stretching out into smaller units–something which drove my dad nuts and which, looking back, I can see was pretty foolish. There was no clearly marked trail, so the younger, faster guys just struck out on their own, while my sister Julie and I generally stayed within shouting distance of Dad and Uncle Ken. We weren’t too concerned about getting lost; after all, we were all going to end up at the same place, right? One just had to keep heading uphill to get there.

Getting there–and back again–tomorrow.

Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader