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Great ‘Cultural’ Spa Experiences From Around The World

by Laurel Miller on

Even if you’re not a spa junkie, it’s hard to deny the appeal of a great massage or other self-indulgent treatment. I’m actually a massage school graduate, and although I ultimately decided not to pursue that career path, I’ve parlayed my experience into doing the odd spa writing assignment. Not surprisingly, I’m a tough judge when it comes to practitioners, facilities and treatments. I also don’t have any interest in generic treatments. What I love is a spa and menu that captures the essence of a place, through both ingredients and technique.

Many spas around the world now try to incorporate some localized or cultural element into their spa programs. It’s not just a smart marketing tool, but a way to educate clients and hotel guests, employ local people skilled in indigenous therapeutic practices, or sell branded spa products made from ingredients grown on site, or cultivated or foraged by local tribes or farmers.

Sometimes, it’s not a hotel or high-end day spa that’s memorable, but a traditional bathhouse used by locals (such as a Moroccan hammam) that’s special. The low cost of such places is an added bonus: think Eastern Europe, Scandinavia, Asia, and parts of the Middle East.

Over the years, I’ve visited a number of spas and bathhouses that have made a big impression on my aching body or abused skin, as well as my innate traveler’s curiosity. After the jump, my favorite spa experiences from around the world.

Six Senses Ninh Van Bay: Vietnam
Located on an isolated peninsula accessible only by boat, Six Senses (near the beach resort of Nha Trang) is a seriously sexy property. Private villas nestle in the hillsides and perch above the water, but the spa and restaurants are the big draw here, as many of their ingredients are sourced from the property’s extensive organic gardens.

The “Locally Inspired” section of the spa menu features treatments like the Vietnamese Well-being Journey: three-and-a-half hours of pure hedonism. A scrub with com xanh (Vietnamese green rice) is followed by a bath in “herbs and oils from the indigenous Hmong and Dao hill tribes of the Sa Pa Valley,” and a traditional massage using bamboo, suction cups and warm poultices filled with native herbs.

On my visit, I opted for a refreshing “Vietnamese Fruit Body Smoother” made with ingredients just harvested from the garden: papaya, pineapple and aloe vera. Other body treatments include applications of Vietnamese green coffee concentrate and a green tea scrub.

Foot reflexology: Hong Kong
Foot reflexologists and massage parlors are ubiquitous throughout Asia, and in my experience, it’s hard to find a bad one. That said, one of the best massages I’ve ever had was an hour-long foot reflexology session in the Tsim Sha Tsui district of Hong Kong. It cost me all of ten dollars, and interestingly enough, it also proved eerily accurate about a long-term GI problem I’d been having that had defied Western diagnosis.

My bliss was momentarily interrupted when my therapist pressed a particular spot on the ball of my foot, causing me to nearly leap out of my skin. He informed me that my gallbladder was inflamed, information I processed but soon forgot. I’d already been tested for gallstones with negative results – twice. A year later, I had an emergency cholecsytectomy to remove my severely diseased gallbladder. A trip to Hong Kong for a foot massage would ultimately have been cheaper and far more enjoyable than three years of worthless diagnostics.

Verana: Yelapa, Jalisco, Mexico
One of my favorite places on earth is Verana, an intimate, eight-guesthouse hilltop retreat located in Yelapa, a fishing village one hour from Puerto Vallarta by water taxi. Husband and wife team Heinz Legler and Veronique Lievre designed the hotel and spa and built it entirely by hand, using local, natural materials.

Although the spa doesn’t focus on traditional Mayan or Aztec technique, Verana grows or forages all of the raw ingredients for its treatments (the gardens also supply the property’s outstanding restaurant), including banana, coconut, lemon, pineapple, papaya and herbs. Try an outdoor massage, followed by a dip in the watsu tub, or an edible-sounding body scrub made with cane sugar and coffee or hibiscus-papaya.

Morocco: hammams
A staple of Moroccan life (as well as other parts of North Africa and the Middle East), hammam refers to segregated public bathhouses that are a weekly ritual for many. A “soap” made from crushed whole olives and natural clay is applied all over the body with an exfoliating mitt. Buckets of hot water are then used to rinse.

Although many hotels in the big cities offer luxury hammam treatments tailored for Western guests, if you want the real deal, go for a public bathhouse. While in Morocco, I got to experience three types of hammam: the hotel variety, a rural DIY hammam at the spectacular Kasbah du Toubkal in the Atlas Mountains, and one at a public bathhouse.

In most public hammams, you’ll strip down in a massive, steam-filled, tiled room. Request an attendant (rather than DIY), who will then scrub the life out of you, flipping you around like a rag-doll. Massages are often offered as part of the service or for an additional fee.

Yes, it’s intimidating and unnerving to be the only naked Westerner in a giant room of naked Muslim men or women, all of who are staring at you and giggling. Once you get over being the odd man (or woman, in my case) out, it’s fascinating to have such an, uh, intimate glimpse into an everyday activity very few travelers experience. The payoff is the softest, cleanest, most glowing skin imaginable.

At hammans that accept Westerners, the vibe is friendly and welcoming, and it’s a way to mingle with locals and participate in an ancient, sacred ritual without causing offense. Do enquire, via sign language or in French, if you should remove all of your clothing, or leave your skivvies on. I failed to do this at the public bathhouse, and increased the staring situation a thousand-fold, because at that particular hammam (unlike the Kasbah), the women kept their underwear on. Oops.

Three highly recommended, traditional, wood-fired Marrakech hammams are Bain Marjorelle (large, modern multi-roomed), Hammam Polo (small, basic, one room), and Hammam el Basha (large, older, multi-roomed). Expect to pay approximately $10 for an attendant (including tip, sometimes massage). Independent travelers can easily find a hamman if they look for people of their own gender carrying buckets, towels and rolled-up mats near a mosque. To ensure you visit a Western-friendly hammam, it’s best to ask hotel or riad staff or taxi drivers for recommendations, and enquire about male/female hours.

Daintree EcoLodge & Spa: Daintree, Queensland, Australia
The Daintree Rainforest, located near Cape Tribulation in Far North Queensland, is over 135 million years old. It’s home to some of the rarest and most primitive flora on earth, much of it traditionally used by the local Aboriginal people for medicinal purposes.

The Daintree Wellness Spa at the low-key, family-owned and-operated EcoLodge has received international accolades for both its work with the local Kuku Yajani people, and its luxe treatments. The spa relies on ochre (a skin purifier) harvested from beneath the property’s waterfall, as well as indigenous “bush” ingredients from the Daintree such as rosella, avocado, native mint, wild ginger, bush honey, quandong, tea tree and spring water. The spa also produces its own line of products, Daintree Essentials (available online).

All treatments integrate traditional Kuku Yalanji modalities and spiritual beliefs, and have received approval from the local elders. I opted for the Ngujajura (Dreamtime) package, which includes a full body and foot massage, Walu BalBal facial and rain therapy treatment (a specialty at Daintree, consisting of an oil and sea salt exfoliation, ochre mud wrap and spring water shower administered tableside … trust me, it’s revelatory). An added bonus: the lodge offers Aboriginal cultural classes that include jungle walks, medicinal plants and bush foods (try eating green ants, a surprisingly tasty source of vitamin C).

Alto Atacama Desert Lodge & Spa: San Pedro de Atacama, Chile
This absolutely enchanting adobe property on the outskirts of the village of San Pedro is a slice of heaven, even if you skip its Puri Spa. But that would be a mistake, because then you wouldn’t be able to succumb to treatments and ingredients adapted from what’s been traditionally used by the local Atacameño people for thousands of years.

Atacama is the driest desert on earth, so on my visit, I chose the “Royal Quinoa Face Mask,” made with locally sourced quinoa (for its exfoliating and regenerative properties) mixed with local honey and yogurt. I left the treatment room looking considerably less desiccated.

The real splurge is the Sabay Massage, which uses pindas, or cloth pouches, filled with rice (used here as an exfoliant), rica rica (an herbal digestive aid also used in aromatherapy) and chañar berries (medicinally used as an expectorant and to stimulate circulation, as well as a food source) collected from around the property, which has extensive native gardens designed by a reknown Chilean ethno-botanist. You’ll emerge silky-skinned and tension-free. Dulces Sueños.

[Photo credits: Massage, Flickr user thomaswanhoff; Six Senses, Laurel Miller; Verana, Flickr user dmealiffe]

Stressed Out? Try A Walk In A Cemetery

by Laurel Miller on

Cemeteries get a bad rap in the United States. The only time of year we really pay attention to them is Halloween, and then, it’s to equate them with fear or evil. I suppose Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day give cemeteries a little love, but those holidays are more about who’s in the actual graves, and not about the places themselves.

Unlike many of the world’s cultures, which celebrate or dignify death, we avoid it. So it’s no wonder that most Americans find cemeteries creepy. That said, I’ve met a number of people like myself who enjoy exploring cemeteries when they travel. Some enjoy the religious, spiritual, historical, or cultural aspects, others like visiting the gravesites of famous people. Many find wandering through graveyards peaceful and relaxing, a place for quiet contemplation.

The latter is the primary reason I enjoy visiting cemeteries, although I also use them as a way to find out more about the city, village or country I’m visiting. I look at the names on headstones, trying to discern the immigrant origins of the residents, or imagine what circumstances led to the death of, say, so many townsfolk in a given year. I also like looking at surnames, especially in 19th century American cemeteries, because they’re often (forgive me) amusing.

%Gallery-165496% Boulder, Colorado’s, Columbia Cemetery was established in 1870. It’s filled with pioneers, Union soldiers, miners, even an infamous 19th century “lady of the evening,” and a recently identified Jane Doe from a 1954 murder case. There are also lots of great surnames: Goodnow; Sex; Belcher; Hussie; Slauter, and Liverhaste.

Built on 10.5 acres near Chautauqua Park, and overlooked by the famous Flatirons, the cemetery is a favorite spot for locals to run, walk their dogs (how many other cemeteries have dog waste bags at their gates?), or go for a quiet stroll. I live right up the street, and visit at least once a week, using it as an interesting detour on my walks downtown.

My favorite cemetery of all time is Telluride’s Lone Tree, which I’ve written about previously. Located toward the end of a box canyon with waterfall, it’s not only beautiful, but historically fascinating. The Telluride Historical Museum occasionally offers tours of Lone Tree, but you can just as easily visit yourself.

While I find many small-town graveyards interesting and a good place for a mental time-out, some big-city cemeteries are bona fide tourist attractions, yet remain peaceful oases. I highly recommend Paris’ Pere Lachaise, for its elaborate tombs and grave markers, many of which belong to the likes of Frédéric Chopin, Edith Piaf, and yes, Jim Morrison.

At La Recoleta Cemetery (Cemetario de la Recoleta) in Buenos Aries, you can visit the tomb of Evita Perón, as well as those of many of Argentina’s most famous political and literary figures. It’s worth a visit regardless, for the architecture of the mausoleums, which range from Baroque, Art Noveau and Art Deco to Neo-Gothic.

[Photo credits: fall cemetery, Flickr user JamieSanford; Chiloe, Laurel Miller; La Recoleta, Flickr user pablo/T]

Hiking, Scrambling And Swimming Oregon’s Oneonta Gorge

by Laurel Miller on

Despite the various nicknames bestowed upon me throughout my 20s (all along the lines of “Hippie,” “Nature Girl” and “Treehugger”), I had a love-hate relationship with hiking the great outdoors. Blame my poor, misguided parents, who made my brother and I undertake many forced marches on summer vacations. We hiked all over California, the Pacific Northwest, the Rockies and even Europe. I know, I know – call Child Protective Services.

It is perhaps unsurprising that I rebelled as I grew older. I was quite a sloth in college, despite my love of travel and camping, and not until 2000 did I rekindle my early love affair with walking the woods, deserts and mountains.

I was attending a conference in Portland, Oregon, and decided to spend a few days camping in Columbia River Gorge, an hour east of the city center. The Columbia is the second largest river in North America, covering 1,200 miles, from British Columbia to the central Oregon coast.

The Gorge itself is a stunning 80-mile drive, as well as a world-class wind-surfing destination, important salmon fishery and source of hydroelectric power. You can also kayak, fish and partake in various indigenous cultural events in the area.

During my 2000 visit, it was Indian Summer, and the dry heat combined with cool, mossy canyons, waterfalls (77 in the Gorge in all) and the Douglas fir forest made for enchanting hikes. On one memorable day, I embarked on three separate outings, stopping only when it became too dark to see.

Since then, I’ve returned to the area several times, but my favorite hike remains Oneonta Gorge, which is conveniently located on Oneonta Creek, just off I-84, 35 miles from Portland. Although frequently crowded with day-trippers, it’s such an unusual and beautiful hike (actually, it’s more of a scramble or slog, depending upon the season), it’s worth sharing.

Do note Oneonta requires some serious scrambling over massive boulders and a logjam or two, so you need to be agile and fit to do it. I’ve seen plenty of non-agile, unfit people in inappropriate footwear (tennis shoes, Chaco’s with Vibram soles or Keen shoes are ideal; water socks or high heels aren’t going to cut it) attempt the gorge. It isn’t pretty, and usually results in a homo sapiens jam, if not minor injury.Oneonta is a slot canyon, just 20 feet wide. A half-mile down the creek bed is a 100-foot waterfall that spills into a clear pool. The thing about the gorge is that there’s no trail; you need to either swim, scramble or slosh it.

The first time I visited, the water was so high in October that it hit me mid-chest. Because I don’t relish swimming in snowmelt and I love a challenge, I decided to see if I could climb the entire route without touching the water. To this day, I have no idea how I managed to grip those wet, slippery, craggy canyon walls without falling, but I succeeded. To be honest, I’m still impressed with myself (and rather despondent that I no longer possess that kind of upper body strength).

I’ve also done Oneonta when it’s just ankle-deep, but regardless of water levels, you can always count on its sheer basalt walls to be teeming with ferns, mosses, lichens and other primordial plants. It’s otherworldly in there, and I find it oddly soothing, even with summer crowds. You could go early in the morning to avoid them, but it’s better to wait until for heat of the day, when the cool, misty air of the gorge provides a respite, and the sun’s rays send shafts of light down into its green depths.

For the most diverse hiking experience, I suggest combining Oneonta in combination with the connecting 2.6-miles Horsetail Falls Loop. This extension will take you up into the forest, and provide views of the Columbia River from the Oneonta Bluffs. For the truly lazy, the 176-foot falls are visible from the roadside.

Getting there
Take I-84 East to the Ainsworth Park Exit 35, and make a right (west) on the Historic Columbia River Highway for 1.5 miles, until you reach the Horsetail Falls Trailhead parking lot. Cross the road, head west a few hundred yards through Oneonta Tunnel and you’ll see the “trailhead,” alongside a bridge with a set of decrepit concrete steps. Get ready to wade or scramble.

Tip: Ainsworth State Park is a lovely campground, and open March through October, first-come, first-served.

[Photo credits: gorge, Flickr user McD22; waterfall, Flickr user stokes rx;scramblers, Laurel Miller]

Rabies Pre-Exposure Vaccine: Will Not Getting One Come Back To Bite You In The Butt?

by Laurel Miller on

Recently, a well-traveled friend of mine, whom I’ll call Jules, went to Belize on vacation. While on an idyllic, live-aboard sailing trip, Jules, her husband, and mother decided to explore some cays by sea kayak. What happened next is one of my worst developing nation nightmares.

While poking around what appeared to be an abandoned cay (this is why poking sans guide isn’t recommended, but few true travelers can resist), two semi-feral dogs “jumped out from beneath an overturned rowboat, barking ferociously.” Jules explains, “They were tied up, and we immediately headed back to our kayaks, when we saw a man. He told us the cay was ‘privado (private),’ and I started apologizing in Spanish as we pointed at our kayaks and picked up our pace. The next thing I knew, one of the dogs was let loose, and barreling after us. I started to run, and it bit the back of my right calf.”

The dog released her leg after Jules’ husband waved his arms at it while yelling, “NO, NO, NO, NO!” Then it re-launched itself at her, so she employed the same tactic, and eventually they made their way to their boats and escaped.

As if this story isn’t harrowing enough, the really terrifying part is that they were 10 miles out to sea and had four days left aboard ship. Fortunately, Jules’ mom is a medical professional. Immediately following the attack, she soaked her leg in sea water to flush the wound, then her mom accessed their first-aid kit and cleaned it with hydrogen peroxide, and applied antibiotic ointment. For the remainder of the trip, her mother repeated this procedure, changing the bandages up to three times a day.

I asked Jules why she didn’t insist upon returning to land immediately and seeking medical treatment.

“That’s an emotionally hard question to answer,” she explained. “The dogs weren’t foaming at the mouth, they didn’t look rabid, but rather in aggressive/protective mode. My mother was on the boat with us and she nursed my wound and kept checking my vital signs for any dangerous symptoms. Luckily, nothing bad came of it. There were no clinics in Placenia where we were, so I made the decision to go to the hospital as soon as I returned home six days later.”

There, she was advised to get rabies shots, which had to be administered through the ER (general practitioners apparently won’t provide them). Jules said the series of four treatments – eight shots the first visit, and one per follow-up – was awful. “I got one in each shoulder, one in each upper thigh, one in my butt, and three directly into the wound. The serum they inject feels thick and made my blood feel sluggish. I couldn’t think clearly and needed to nap every day.” She also wasn’t up-to-date on her tetanus, so that was the first shot she received.

Since Jules is one of the most energetic people I know, the shots really affected her ability to work, and she had to take a number of sick days on top of her two weeks vacation. That, of course, is the least concern in this scenario, and I asked my infectious disease doctor, John Szumowski, a fellow at the University of Washington, what the best course of action would be in such a situation.

“Once a person has symptoms of rabies, there’s little that can be done,” he says. “Only a handful of persons have survived even with intensive care. But the rabies pre-exposure prophylaxis vaccine series is felt to be very effective if administered to a person who doesn’t have symptoms.”

I’ve been telling myself for years that I should get rabies prophylaxis (a series of three recommended vaccinations) because I’m in what’s considered a high-risk group when I travel. I have a lot of exposure to animals, and I spend extended periods in rural areas where a delay in medical evaluation is likely. Thus, it’s a safe generalization to say that most adventure travelers would do well to get the series, even if they’re not animal lovers (for the record, despite my crazy dog/cat lady tendencies, I usually give creatures in developing nations a wide berth for this reason). I know I’m going to do it before my next big trip.

Getting the series, says Dr. Szumowski, “Also allows for a simpler course of post-exposure prophylaxis following a bite: fewer vaccinations and immunoglobin (which may not be readily available or of good quality internationally) isn’t needed. The pre-exposure series is available in travel clinics, but can be easily given in a primary care setting, too. Clinics may not have it immediately available, so calling the office ahead of time is a good idea.”

Dr. Szumowski is quick to point out that getting the pre-exposure series does NOT mean medical evaluation should be skipped after an animal bite. Aside from rabies, bites can transmit other, primarily bacterial, infections. “Thorough cleansing of the bite site is an important step, regardless of vaccination status,” he adds. “Animal bites, even those that took place some time in the past, should be discussed with your medical provider because the incubation period for rabies can be up to years afterward.”

Need more compelling reasons for why adventure travelers should get pre-exposure shots? I’ve witnessed a puppy play-biting (drawing blood) a fellow traveler while we were visiting a Myanmar refugee camp in Thailand. I’ve seen a late-stage rabid dog staggering down the main street of a small village in Ecuador. I’ve been chased down an alleyway by a pack of mangy Vietnamese dogs, and had to scale a fence to escape. Gadling contributor Kyle Ellison has been chased by a dog while going for a run in a developing nation. I’ve been attacked and bitten two separate times by seemingly friendly cats here in the States, and still had to go to the ER, while animal control was required to quarantine and test the animals.

Rabies definitely isn’t limited to developing nations, nor is it restricted to dogs and cats. You should never get to close to wildlife, wherever you may be, for any number of safety reasons. But animals like raccoons, opossums, and bats are also frequent carriers of this deadly disease domestically.

For more information on rabies and other infectious diseases related to travel, the CDC’s Yellow Book is an excellent resource. And don’t let fear of rabies make you paranoid about indulging your fondness for animals when you travel.

Says Jules, “I’m an animal lover, and even after this horribly scary incident, I’ll continue to look for the wagging tails of approaching dogs. This was a minor blip on our trip, and will in no way stop me from continuing to see the world. It’s a part of traveling that makes us stop and re-evaluate taking precautions. We’re very protected in the U.S., and take that for granted. We need to respect the places that we visit and be our own advocates to protect ourselves and fellow travelers. From now on, I’ll also always consider travel insurance when visiting developing nations.”

[Photo credits: German shepherd, Flickr user State Farm; dog bite, Jules; dog, Laurel Miller]

Canon City, Colorado: Prisons and Paddling

by Laurel Miller on

You know how when you’re driving out in the middle of nowhere, and you see those signs warning you not to pick up hitchhikers because you’re passing a correctional facility?

Because, you know, it totally makes sense to locate prisons in isolated areas. Because, for most towns, being home to a prison isn’t usually a tourism selling point – especially if they’re already touted as a tourist destination for other reasons, like outdoor recreation.

That’s why Cañon City (inexplicably pronounced “Can-yun, despite the nya over the “n”) was such a surprise when I was there last week … researching a story on one of its correctional facilities (there are nine state and four federal). It’s a little-known fact that when I’m not writing for Gadling, I’m doing things like visiting inmates and writing magazine features on agricultural and animal-assisted correctional industries programs.

Located 45 miles southwest of Colorado Springs (which as I type, is on fire…PLEASE DON’T MAKE OPEN FIRES OR TOSS YOUR CIGARETTE BUTTS IF YOU’RE VISITING COLORADO RIGHT NOW, I BEG OF YOU), Cañon City is one of the state’s historic “Gold Belt” towns, which connects Cripple Creek and Victor Mining District, site of the world’s largest gold rush. It’s an isolated, high-desert region of ochre-colored rock, scrub and pines, at once beautiful and forbidding.

So there I was at the East Cañon City Correctional Complex in 105-degree heat, touring its goat and water buffalo dairies for a magazine feature. I’m a big supporter of these programs, but I also find the psychological aspects of criminology fascinating, as I’ve alluded to in previous posts. If mayhem, murder and madness are involved, I’m interested. But I also knew that the region is famed for the Royal Gorge (the “Grand Canyon of the Arkansas River“), which is home to the world’s second highest suspension bridge at 1,053 feet above water level, a scenic railroad and some of the nation’s most epic whitewater.

I’d planned to run the Class IV/V Royal gorge on day two of my visit, but the lack of snowpack has resulted in a less-than-stellar whitewater season, so, with time to kill (that is not a prison pun), I wandered historic downtown Cañon city, and discovered the Museum of Colorado Prisons.

%Gallery-159440%One of the many things I love about Colorado is that it’s not ashamed of its rowdy past. Cañon City is the epicenter of that heritage, as it’s the location of the Colorado Territorial Correctional Center, established in 1871. The Prison Museum, which is housed next door in the former Women’s Correctional Facility, celebrated its Silver Anniversary last week, so what better way to celebrate that fact than by sharing the wonders within with you?

The first thing I noticed upon entering the museum grounds was the gas chamber housed beside the parking lot. I took a lot of photos because it’s soothing, pale mint color is just the shade I’ve been longing to paint my office.

Once in the museum proper, I met Mary LaPerriere, the cheerful curator and a DOC (Department of Corrections) employee for over 20 years. She obligingly took me on a tour (audio tours are available for the general public) and answered my many questions before leaving me to explore on my own. I was touched when she brought me a biography on Alfred Packer, the notorious Colorado cannibal who served time in the penitentiary next door, after I mentioned my interest in him.

Among the displays and artifacts housed in the prison, you’ll find weapons made from all manner of everyday objects (toothbrush shiv, anyone?); photos depicting prison life; clippings and information about famous inmates such as Edna Vanausdoll, falsely accused of murdering her husband in the early 1960s; exhibits dedicated to the region’s K-9 programs; and beautiful saddles and other leatherwork crafted by inmates in correctional industry programs (Explained Mary, “The cowboy, the horse, and the dog have been part of the history of Colorado’s state penitentiary system from 1871 to the present.”). Other oddities, to quote the museum website, include:

  • The hangman’s noose used for the last execution by hanging in Colorado
  • Displays of disciplinary paraphernalia used from 1871 to the present
  • Federal Bureau of Prisons display
  • Inmate Arts and Crafts
  • Gift Shop
  • And much more!

What is not to love? I should add that Mary’s office is also a former cell used to house inmate trustees employed in the kitchen, and still retains the original barred door.

So the next time you find yourself with time on your hands in Colorado (as long as you’re not serving time, yuk yuk), pay a visit to Cañon City. Even if the weather or water levels aren’t cooperating, there’s plenty to see. Visitors should note that there’s a $25 fee to cross the Royal Gorge Bridge. Click here for information and tickets.

Museum of Colorado Prisons, open May 15-Labor day, 8:30 a.m.-6 p.m. daily; Labor Day-mid-October 10 a.m.- 5 p.m. daily; Mid-October-May 14 10 a.m.- p.m., Weds-Sun.

[Photo credits: Laurel Miller]