Martha Gellhorn Swims

As I wind down the last day of surfing in Baja Norte, I think of one of my heroines, Martha Gellhorn, who, in her travels as a war correspondent for over 50 years, swam as around the world. Not in a circumnagivating sense, but in a “I’m here, where I can swim?” kind of way.

For this and many other reasons, I chose to celebrate the life of Martha Gellhorn in the best way I know how.

Surfing and road trip pix to follow. Promise.

The Scientists at Los Alamos May Have Had Sweetteeth

Or, they may have just enjoyed sitting by the river, enjoying sunny New Mexico days and dry nights within the comfort of a local’s home.

That local was Edith Warner, and once again, as a woman of history, she did not lead armies into battle or change public policy. She became a part of history by doing what women in the 1940s did everyday: making a comfortable home, homemade and to-die for chocolate cake.

Dudes like Oppenheimer, Bohrs, and Fermi would spend many hours at Warner’s cozy adobe home, trying to forget the days’ research. They were thankful for her undemanding company and her abilities in the kitchen.

Check out the article at

Virginia Woolf, Still Rocking After All These Years


I’ve got photos of the Colorado Rockies that I need to share with you. Next week I’m headed to Fruita, so they’ll be more from the Western Slope.

In the meantime, I continue to write for GreatHistory, a blog where history becomes more relevant than ever.

My lastest post for them is about my heroine, Mrs. Virginia Woolf. Take a read.

The Captivity Narrative of Mary Rowlandson

There were bestsellers before The Joy of Cooking and The DaVinci Code.  In fact, America’s first bestseller was published in 1682 and was written by a woman.

The bestseller in question was not a romance novel or a how-to get married after 40 kind of affair.  It was an honest-to-goodness account of being taken captive by the Narragansett Indians and being sold to the Wampanoag Indians in order to fund the Native side of King Philip’s War.

The captivity narrative tells of Mrs. Rowlandson eating tree bark broth (delicious!), traveling all over western Massachusetts, and naming her ransom price.  Pretty ballsy if you ask me.