Ben Stubenberg

20th Annual Solas Awards Silver Winner in the Travel & Healing category

It’s our last night in Haiti, and nobody wants to leave. Spicy aromas from Creole lobster, shrimp, and red snapper caught that afternoon waft through the humid air and invite us to dine. We take our seats at the table set for us on the beach at the water’s edge under a black Caribbean sky strewn with a billion stars, bright and sharp in the absence of ambient light. A breeze blows in from the sea, and we let the serenity of the moment settle over us. Dr. John Brusky, an anesthesiologist who has led many of these surgical missions, taps his glass. All eyes look to him. Read full story

Margaret Wagner

20th Annual Solas Awards Gold Winner in the Travel & Sports category

The bull fell to his front knees, then struggled and stood up, shaking his head. I exhaled a soft “oh no.” The animal panted, quivering the banderillas, the two-and-a-half-foot red and white sticks tipped with two-inch barbed hooks which had been stabbed into his back. Wet bands glistened from the top of his spine down hefty flanks, blood darkening mahogany hair. I groaned; my stomach flip-flopped. When I was in a tween in the 1970s, my family visited Spain. We saw flamenco dances in the evening, and no bullfights. Now, in 2025, I was attending one in Madrid, Spain as part of my mission to retrace the seven-month European trip that my mother had taken in 1951. Read full story

MJ Pramik

20th Annual Solas Awards Bronze Winner in the Travel & Food category

Growing up in rural Ohio, our parents “recruited” us to help with the canning of strawberry jam, which required us to search for the perfect deep-ruby strawberries that intermingled with the morning’s mist. The tiny bright fruits ripened in waves. Each day for a week, we picked and filled wicker baskets to mash, sweeten, and cook, filling twelve or more boiled and baked half-pint jars at a time. Read full story

Lisa Boice

20th Annual Solas Awards Gold Winner in the Travel & Transformation category

A trio of zebras kicked up plumes of orange Kruger National Park dirt as they crossed the road in front of our Land Cruiser. We had stopped to look at the impala hanging lifeless from the branch of an acacia tree ten feet away. It hung like meat in a butcher’s freezer. The leopard that killed it was likely hiding nearby, our guide told us, watching over its kill. What looked like an oval brown bag about the size of a 10-pound sack of rice was slung over the limb near the impala. “What’s that next to its head?” I asked. He checked through his binoculars. “It’s the stomach,” he said. “Leopards don’t like it, so they pull it out. It’s full of grasses, which don't interest them.” I could feel my own stomach turn as I looked at the morbid tableau. I didn’t expect grief to follow me into the bush. Read full story

Marek Garcia

20th Annual Solas Awards Gold Winner in the Travel Memoir category

I can’t shake the feeling I’m forgetting something. I pack, unpack, repack – but something’s still missing. How do I fit everything I need into a backpack for a whole year? How do I pack if I don’t know where I will be in three months? Or in three days. I spend my last two weeks getting ready for The Trip. Trying to fit everything I’ll need into a 40-liter backpack. I repack because I have way too many shirts, according to r/solotravel on Reddit. I unpack one more time and then repack again using packing cubes. I ask myself what I’ll actually need. Read full story