• We flew in a plane so small, we had to take the cameras out of their bags and ride with them on our laps to make them fit onboard. I seat-belted mine in, just in case (and ate its bag of peanuts.).
  

• Upon landing, were swarmed by Cody's paparazzoi - one guy with a Nikon. The airport is smaller than my New York apartment, and our arrival is big news; jet service to the area is seasonal and we're the first ones to arrive for the summer. The next day, we're on the front page.

• Got laughed at by the rental car people when I pulled out my Google maps. Cody has one main road and it'll take you anywhere you want to go.
  

• Even the Wal-Mmart, which I could see from the airport.
  

• Getting lost for 90 minutes in said -Wal-Mmart while hunting for Luna bars and Fig Newtons.
  

• Finding live bait next to the Snapple in the soda case at the gas station on the way to the ranch in Shell. Note that there doesn't appear to be any fishing outlets nearby. Rethink Snapple purchase.
  

• Losing cell phone and Blackberry reception not because of weather, but because there just ...isn't any out this far. I won't lie -; this was probably the best part of the trip.
  

• The crew is given a whole house to ourselves. We promptly nickname it Real World: Wyoming and draw straws to decide who gets to be the naked guy and the drunk girl.
  

• There are four of us and three bedrooms.
  

• Luckily, mine has two teeny- weeny twin beds. Ginny (our superstar director) and I pretend we're back in college and bunk together. Pillow fight!
  

• Neither of us top out past 5''3", and yet our feet hang off the ends of our Bert andn' Ernie beds. * We also debate the best method of short-sheeting Paul (DP) and Damion's (audio) king- size beds but settle for claiming several of their many, many pillows.
  

• The ranch is beautiful, with an amazing mix of red rock, painted mountains, and lush green fields filled with wild flowers and sweet, tall grasses.
  

• So tall that, four hours into the shoot, I back one of the SUVs into an unseen ditch. Did I mention it was grassy? And muddy? And raining? And cold? And it happened 30 seconds after I casually mentioned that the hill we were on was kinda steep and I didn't want to hit the fence at the top as I backed up?
  

• SUV. IN. A. DITCH. WTF?
  

• Fortunately, our friendly host, Peter the Belgian Cowboy had both a rope, a Hhemi engine truck and a sense of humor. He pulled, we pushed and out popped the car, now covered in mud, inside and out, as. Wwe all climbed inside, ensuring we'd never get our security deposit back.
  

• Sitting on a pile of cow poo.
  

• Being so tired, I didn't care (although replacement jeans were purchased at Wal-Mmart. I cared just enough to not want to smell like cow poo for two weeks.)
  

• Cruising back into town and feeling pieces of our souls die as our phones chirped back to life and voicemails poured in. * Arguing with a waitress about the definition of noon and how it relates to getting eggs for breakfast or lunch or brunch.
  

• Trekking through the woods to get to the river to catch Sam as she goes by in a raft, knowing the water is a maximum 50 degrees and feeling bad for her.
  

• Feeling worse for ourselves when we realize the only way to actually get the shot is to wade in, waist-deep.
  

• Having a silent, gesticulating argument with Paul about whom exactly is going in the water first. I'Am victorious but realize that when the day includes soaking- wet underwear, there are no winners.
  

Day 1

I'm thrilled that we are here as I have wanted to show off the New Hampshire seacoast ever since I started at Travel Channel. Of course, it's understandably hard to convince the execs when your series take place in Europe, Latin America and China, but now that we are doing a lot of American travel, I tell anyone who will listen how we HAVE to do my hometown. But it is a little strange being home and having to work. For the last 15 years, this has always been the place I returned to to clear the mind, be by myself and spend some time with the family. Very strange to look up and see a camera crew. I have to fight to keep from daydreaming, because it's just so automatic when I come here.

I got the producers' notes for the show and read some of the historical points and thought, "WOW that really happened here?" I had no idea, well maybe at one time I had an idea, say in the four or fifth grade when we really covered the early years of America, but John Paul Jones, the father of the American Navy, lived in Portsmouth? Who knew? During my formative years, there was no time for history as boys and trying to dress like Madonna took up all my time.

I think I'm fighting an ear infection since I have vertigo. I feel very odd, like I'm always on a rocking ship and even to look at food makes me nauseous. I have felt this way for five days now, and it's really starting to wear me out, but while shooting at Portsmouth Brewer, Todd the Brewmaster offers me a small glass of his masterpiece, Catherine the Great. It's a beer that was voted the second-best beer in the U.S. by "Beer Advocate." As he pours me the glass, I think that I couldn't be rude enough to turn down the drink, but I know this could make me feel even more ill. I take a sip, and it's really good, wholesome, almost nutritious in its full frothy brew. I drink the whole glass because it really is an amazing beer, and I actually start to feel a little better. My head just feels like it's more aligned. By the end of the night, all feelings of vertigo are gone. I'm positive it was the beer, and drinking it was certainly a more pleasurable experience than going to the doctor and getting antibiotics.

Day 2

Great day with a walk on the beach with my family. The entire night there was such wind that it shook the entire turret that my room was in. I've never heard such a ruckus in all my years of living on the seacoast. I thought the beach scene might be scrapped, but the skies are beautiful, and aside from some strong gusts, it's a great day. This scene was the most important to me as that beach has been a part of my family ever since we moved to the seacoast. Every time I come home, I either bike to that beach or drive, I'm alone or with my sisters, mom or my dad. There's something neutral about a beach, and this is where as a family we have always come to do our talking. It's also such an inspirational and uplifting place, so every trip there ends with an affirmation of hope.

We shot a scene at a Portsmouth local favorite hangout the Pressroom. These are a few of my buddies from High School: Eric Morrow, Gregg White and David Olson. This scene was later cut from the show (don't know if it made it to the web) but since they have ragged on me since High School I had a lot of fun telling them they made it to the editing room floor.

The crew at lunch. Just look at how good we are trying to be ordering salads with our sweet potato fries.

The crew at Nubble Light in Maine. Boy it was cold, we had to do the stand-ups there many times because my teeth would chatter in the middle of me talking.

Me with Gail of Flo's hot dogs. My must stop place when I come home.

It seems so untouched that if I hadn't heard the news in the last few years and my soundman John wasn't from the Big Easy, I would have never known anything had happened. While the look is definitely the same, the feel is altogether different. And I really like the change. Gone are those fair-weather tourists who come in search of cheap neon-colored drinks and year-old beads; in their place are people who love this city and want to do what they can to help it succeed. The feeling is much more personal as the locals understand that, as a traveler, you are making a conscious decision to come to their city that hasn't gotten much good press in a long time.

When I talk to people who live in N.O., there seems to be a healthy conflict with the way their city is being portrayed in the news. When it's constantly reiterated how badly the city is doing, it sends the signal to visitors around the world that New Orleans is still in dire straits. And yet, just walking around the most popular areas of this city, you'll find that the very opposite is true. I am positive both sides of the coin exist, but from my point of view, there is absolutely no reason not to go to New Orleans.

Even before pre-production began, I could have told you that Cabo looks different through a camera lens than it does through the haze of Spring Break.

I had been to Cabo San Lucas three times before filming our episode. It's a place that's easy to fall in love with, and when you get the chance to show it off to your college chums, you do it. But more than seven years had passed between my last visit and escorting Ms. Brown.

It's admittedly amazing how much that part of the world has changed (there's actually a MALL in town now), but what really struck me was how much more towns like that have to offer - other than beaches, bars, and beautiful people. To be fair, we saw our fair share of all three, but I also discovered some things that may not be on most vacationers' radar.

For many, a weekend on the beach would consist of waking up late, stumbling to the sand, ordering a daiquiri or six, eating at a fancy restaurant at the resort, listening to technofied versions of '80s pop songs at the cookie-cutter watering hole/neon-lined club, and stumbling back to bed. Then, repeat as needed.

For this show, however, we were interested in showing this destination (and all the others) as a place that's not only good for the weekend warrior in need of a recharge, but also for the adventurous bunch that's not afraid to find the gems that may be hidden a bit off the main drag.

There are miles of beaches along The Corridor (the stretch of utopia between Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo), but if you keep your eyes peeled, you'll be able to spot some intimate spans. You may even unearth a small beach tucked within the rocky coastline that no one else has found yet that day.

In the States, we're all familiar with the ice cream man. On hot summer days, kids whose ears are properly tuned to that catchy jingle can hear him coming from the next neighborhood. Well, in Cabo, we were lucky enough to spend a few minutes with "The Coconut Man" - that's what we dubbed him, since we didn't really catch his name. He parks his pickup - full of freshly picked coconuts - on the most amazing lookout point over a surfer's paradise and, for a few pesos, hacks the ends off of a coconut and adds a straw. Not only was the view from his "office" a sight to see, but the diversity of his customers was, as well. A crew of bikers, a lot of locals and a handful of tourists all lined up for the same simple delicacy.

I'll leave you with this insight: Never had I woken up in the morning (okay, afternoon) in Cabo San Lucas and thought to myself, "hey, let's go soaring 300 feet above the desert through a canyon!" but chances are good that I will from now on.