The Great Wall at Jinshanling (China)

For an early start, breakfast was pointing to order bits from a busy hole in the wall next to the metro station: a large square of dough hot from the fryer (yes, please!), a Chinese egg sarnie (yes!), steamed pork buns (eh, ok), and sticky rice and dates wrapped in a leaf (hell, yes!).

Started around 200 B.C. and built by the Qin and Han dynasties, the Great Wall has about a half dozen options available for a visit from Beijing. We chose the section at Jinshanling. The nearly 3 hour drive out of the city got us far enough away from almost all the day trippers who crowd closer sections like those at Badaling and Mutaniyu. That's not to say that Jinshanling's amenities were rustic.

Construction was booming. Billboards advertising new properties herald a future where Jinshanling will seem more akin to a chic ski village than remote outpost. One advantage of the gentrification were brand new toilet facilities, especially as there are none whatsoever on the Wall itself. The path up to the Great Wall had a fair incline, which was paved smoothly and with new steps. The cute souvenir shops, colored banners, and piped music lining the path made it feel eerily like we were in line for the big ride at a theme park.

At the top was the gate at Jinshanling, and we were headed to the gate at Simatai West. The section is mostly restored and broken up by a series of watchtowers. The Great Wall follows the ridgeline of the surrounding mountains so maybe priming one to think of rollercoasters beforehand isn't such a bad idea. Some parts were so steeply sloped that the Wall curved like the construction of a bridge, and other parts were graded with hundreds of unevenly sized steps. I was grateful I'd brought my trekking poles and that it wasn't rainier, making the bricks even more slippery. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't ideal. The Wall was shrouded in fog so while the watchtowers and ramparts were very cool, materializing out of thin air, visibility was such that we'd have been useless as lookouts for any Mongol invaders. Our pace was sweaty and grueling since an early map showed almost a dozen watchtowers to pass within the 2.5 hours allotted to get to the east gate and down to the bus parking lot. A little over an hour in, we were surprised to discover there were only 4 more watchtowers to go, rather than the 8 we were expecting... so either we misinterpreted the map (which became an all too common occurrence during our trip in China), grossly miscounted watchtowers on our route, or inadvertently passed through some bewitched portal in the mists of time... You decide.

Hiking gave us a good appetite for dinner back in Beijing. Each of the provinces have their own offices in the capital so we decided to try out the restaurant catering to workers from Sichuan since we wouldn't get a chance to visit. An enormous basin with red chillies, peppercorns, and bay leaves floating arrived at our table. The college kid serving us had to demonstrate skimming out the spicy stuff so we could reach the fillets of freshwater fish below. The other dish we ordered was frog legs stir-fried with piquant, pickled peppers. Both had enough bones to make eating a bit cumbersome, but no question that the flavors were authentic and the good kind of burn.

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Kayaking in the Nærøyfjord and Aurlandsfjord (Norway)

The main draw for us coming to Norway was the chance to go kayaking in the fjords. Now we've been on a few kayaking trips - the most memorable included a capsize we still refer to as a "marriage-building experience" - but enough time passes that memories fade, and we think, yes, maybe we should try a kayaking trip again. When we arrived in Norway, the weather report had changed considerably enough for the worse that we seriously debated cancelling this portion of our trip and losing a significant deposit. Despite the ominous forecast, and our poor track record with kayaking trips, we committed to going ahead.

In Gudvangen (about 45 min northeast of Voss), we packed clothes in dry bags; donned wetsuits (again), spray skirts, and jackets; and secured food and gear in holds and in bungees strapped atop the kayaks. Everything we'd need for the 3 day adventure with tour operator Nordic Ventures. It was chilly and raining intermittently when we launched out into the Nærøyfjord, but the sea was relatively calm, and a light tailwind made the paddling surprisingly relaxed. It also helps that the Nærøyfjord is a UNESCO world heritage site. Traffic is restricted to only a handful of small boats and ferries, and the only aircraft we saw were likely rescue helicopters. We stopped for a picnic lunch on a beach just around the corner from where a huge pile of stones marked the burial of Viking of some importance, judging by the size of the mound.

Being on the water ended up being the best case scenario. The rain doesn't matter so much if you're in wetsuits already, and our guide Hamish pointed out about a half dozen smaller waterfalls that only appeared on the cliffs in such abundance. The old faithfuls were truly impressive dropping off such steep cliffs, and it was so much fun to fill our bottles straight from the cascades! One of the falls was so strong you could paddle hard into the rapids developing at the foot before the strength of them pushed you quickly out to sea again.

The middle of our trip was broken up with a day on land. We made camp on a beach one evening near the hamlet of Dyrdal, and the next morning we hiked from sea level all the way to the top of the fjord. Luckily, the weather cleared up for most of it, and the long hours of daylight we're on our side. We climbed 1100 meters (~3600 feet) and back down again in about 10.5 hours! As our guide warned us, Norwegians don't really go in for catwalks or zigzagging. The trail pretty much went straight up. It was also highly technical. The wet created boggy areas of mud, moss, and curiously springy lichen. The higher elevations were strewn with boulders and smaller, uneven rocks of the perfect size and shape for trapping feet or rolling ankles on. Fortunately, the views more than made up for it: thundering waterfalls with bluish rapids, towering mountains with the odd sheep, hay fields swaying with breeze, and tiny wooden cabins in the meadows. Stopping for a breather, tasting the raspberries and blueberries that grow wild along the trail made for a delightful respite. The sun was shining at the summit, and looking down, the boats on the Nærøyfjord far below us were practically microscopic. It was strange that our party had started the hike in shorts and t-shirts, but the changes in elevation had us layered up in fleeces, jackets, and knitted beanies at the top. After a brief nistepakke (Norwegian for "packed lunch," i.e. for me, as much smoked salmon and avocado as I could pile on a sandwich), and snapping photos off the edge until the acrophobia makes you queasy, we bundled up and headed down again... just as the snowflakes started to fall and a rainbow formed over the highlands. Glorious!

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Bergen (Norway)

Having enjoyed our jaunts to Denmark, Iceland, and very briefly, Helsinki, we thought we'd give Norway a go. Flying into Bergen, the shuttle bus is an easy choice into the city center... All the more easier with only half our luggage. Unfortunately, we spent the first part of our holiday wondering when or if my pack, with all its technical gear, would join us. The situation was more agonizing when we realized, yes, Norway is as expensive as everyone says, and shops could be closed for Sunday by the time I found out. Here's hoping the jacket and trousers I purchased for 2-3x what it'd cost in the U.S. gets reimbursed by the airline!

We quickly discovered the weather in Norway is very changeable so layers with water- or wind-proofing are essential. We imagine the city is pretty when the sun is out, but we also heard that Bergen typically gets about 20 days of sunshine a year. Visiting in August did mean that even on a cloudy day, there was good light well into the evening, with dusk beginning around 10:30 pm. This was handy as shopping delayed the start of our hiking on Mount Fløyen, one of the seven hills of Bergen. Catching the funicular near the city center, we hiked about 5 km of trails around little lakes and in the mossy forests 320 meters (~1050 feet) above Bergen. It was great seeing families setting off rain or shine with tiny kids in Goretex coveralls, climbing into canoes or swarming over ropes courses.

A haven from the cold and wet are the KODE museums, one of the largest art and design collections in Scandinavia. The docent persuaded us to join the free tour of Edvard Munch's works in KODE 2, and it was amusing to hear her obvious annoyance that Oslo insists on retaining all 3 copies of his most famous piece, The Scream.

Our favorite break from the weather came from a guidebook's interview with one of the members of the Norwegian band Kings of Convenience. We may have missed out on one of his guest dj spots in the city, but Eirik Glambek Boe knows his coffee. Kaffemisjonen served us up the best cups we've had since our trip to Italy, and his recommendation for a local roaster had us looking out for the brand elsewhere in Norway.

Bryggen is the historic quarter of the city, hearkening back to its days as a trading powerhouse in the Hanseatic League. Buildings in warm reds and yellows, dating post a 1704 fire, but in the style of the 12th century, line the eastern side of the wharf with wooden alleyways containing craftsmen workshops and plenty of souvenir shops. Directly opposite lies the Torget Fish Market, a fancier version compared to many we've seen. A selection of caviars, shellfish, and other treasures from the sea were on display. A salesgirl at one counter proffered curious tidbits of Norwegian land-based cuisine. We tried smoked sausage made from elk, reindeer, moose, and a small, furry weasel-like creature Google suggests might be a pine marten. Chewing on a greasy piece of whale sausage brought back terrible memories of hakarl (Icelandic rotten shark). For more al fresco dining, there were fishmongers - mostly Spaniards it seemed - in pop up tents selling seafood plates from the grill or flat top.

Bypassing these options, we struck gold with a restaurant recommendation from the bus driver. Although the prices were shocking, the presentation was decidedly upscale and the food superb. From the first bite, we knew we were in the hands of a master: arctic char with beautifully crispy skin on a bed of melted root vegetables, tender wolffish, creamy fish soup (a Bergen specialty), and a light and airy pavlova (meringue dessert) made with cloudberries (an amber-colored relative of raspberries that grows in the arctic wild in Norway). Compliments to the chef, indeed!

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Yosemite National Park, CA, Part II (United States)

The brochure on Yosemite they hand you at the entrance gives horrifying yet darkly humorous warnings about bears (“Keep food within arm's reach, in a food locker, a bear-resistant canister, or hard-sided hotel room.”) and mountain lions (“Pick up children so they look larger. Attacks are rare, but if you are attacked, fight back.”) But after a good night's sleep in one of the last remaining rooms in nearby Groveland, we discovered the real danger to us was forest fires. If we hadn't seen the line of fire trucks just outside of town, driven past scorched trees and through billowing smoke, a road-side Smokey Bear was holding up a sign with the hazard level marked “High” each day of our visit there.

Though the popular trails can be teeming, Rich was happy to find that taking a side trail, or indeed, any in the high country quickly thinned crowds to a mere handful. The hike to Sentinel Dome was one such and afforded 360-degree views including some of the park's biggest stars: El Capitán, Lower and Upper Yosemite Falls, Half Dome, and Clouds Rest. Man, this place is awesome! ...and I mean that in the truest sense of the word, or as Eddie Izzard puts it, “1000 hot dogs awesome.” Eavesdropping on a big family, the rock climbers in the bunch were regaling their audience with stories of how long it took to find a free climb route up The Nose of El Capitán – 14 years! Evidently, climbers tackling the 3000-ft granite monolith sleep in bivouac sacks anchored to the rock face and wake every couple of hours in the night to put balm on their fingers in an attempt to regrow the skin. Yikes!

Taft Point is an overlook that requires a measure of courage itself. What may look like narrow cracks in the wide expanse of granite are actually deep fissures you can actually see drop down to the valley floor 3500 ft below. You can walk right up to the edge – although crawling is a much, much safer option - to look over the side, at least until the vertigo gets the better of you. A family of Spaniards – I suppose we were visiting in August – were giving their mother panic attacks with their antics. ¡Hostia!

It is, arguably though, a better view than at Glacier Point, which is where all of the coach buses and RVs seem to empty out. Good spot for people-watching. I saw a Japanese tourist taking dozens of photos with a giant lens, which I know a friend once paid $1000 just to rent, then whip out his iPhone for a selfie. Seriously?! We did get to speak to a retired ranger/fire crew boss about the forest fires, and he also shared his ax to grind about another agency – the U.S. Forest Service, which allows logging and mining on the land it manages.

The Mariposa Grove was closed for restoration so we stopped into the Tuolumne Grove to see the giant sequoias. Related to the coastal redwoods we saw in Muir Woods, these titans are even more impressive. Sequoiadendron giganteum, growing up to 85 m (~279 ft) in height and 8 m (~26 ft) in diameter, is the largest living thing in the world. There was one in the grove with an old picture of someone driving a coach and horses through the gap in the bottom! You can crawl through a tunnel created by the hollowed trunk of another felled giant sequoia. Rich took the opportunity to do a Bran Stark impression engulfed in its gnarled roots.

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North America

Central Valley and Yosemite National Park, CA (United States)

Hearing about the California drought in the news all the time, and people buying up land just for the water rights like a nightmare out of Dune, it was fascinating driving through the agricultural behemoth that is the Central Valley. Farmers here grow over 200 different crops, providing a third of all produce grown in the U.S. We drove past livestock grazing determinedly in yellowed pastures and reservoirs with depths of exposed rock showing shockingly low water from historic levels. The only breaks in the parched earth were patches of directed irrigation to each fruit tree or crop row... and some bastards' houses with suspiciously green lawns. In a landscape that hearkens back to the Dust Bowl, how is that even allowed?!

On a positive note though, we were headed to Yosemite! One of the first National Parks and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, people have been lobbying to protect it one way or another since the mid-1800s. Covering roughly 750,000 acres (~300,000 hectares), this huge tract of wilderness in the Sierra Nevada Mountains attracts nearly 4 million tourists each year. Inside there is a free shuttle bus system to the different trail heads and visitor centers, a brilliant idea to cut down the traffic in the park and chaos of finding parking. Following the ranger's suggestion – and what looked like everybody else's plans - we stretched our legs on the hike from Happy Isles to Vernal Fall and onward to Nevada Fall via the Mist Trail. Why they are officially called “Fall” and not “Falls,” I have no idea. The trail follows the Merced River, and even with the drought, the steep drops of the falls are impressive. A good workout, too, as it's about 600 steps in the granite. Random people passing us made references to the Denver Broncos, and it took us a while to solve the mystery. Rich's Durham Bulls cap looked remarkably similar to a Broncos one: Both are animals with steam coming out their nostrils jumping through a big orange D on a blue background. Weird!

After working up a sweat, the open stretches of Emerald Pool and Silver Apron Beach at the midpoint start to look mighty fine for a swim if slipping to your death weren't a real hazard. The scenery flattens out a bit at the top of Vernal Fall in pretty much the idealized version of mountain stream in the woods - an idyllic spot for a picnic and dip for tired feet.  Heading back down via the easier John Muir Trail gave us nice views back toward Mount Broderick and Liberty Cap. Much to our chagrin, the whole loop – only 5.4 miles (~8.7 km) - took us over 6 hours... but, hey, the gain in elevation was 2000 ft (~610 m)!  

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North America

Lake Placid and the Adirondack Mountains, NY (United States)

The snarl of Montreal weekend traffic was tremendous with construction and poorly signed detours. The drive down south, surprising to me, gave way to stretches of farmland unbroken but for the occasional cluster of grain silos, not unlike the American Midwest. Re-entering the country, we didn't talk a specific game plan beforehand. The border agent was perplexed at our itinerary (yes, we live in the U.S.; no, we flew into Canada; yes, we are driving back in; etc), and nervous answers interrupting each other didn't really help. Despite all our travels, having both been on temporary visa status in foreign countries and subject to the whim of immigration officials always puts us on edge. We'd make terrible drug mules!

The wedding of Pepper's uncle brought us just in time to witness the final blaze of autumnal glory in the Adirondack Mountains. The mountains are unconnected to any other chain, and instead, rise in an eroded dome of 46 peaks in northeastern New York. The "High Peaks" are very popular with outdoorsmen/women with many eager to join the Forty Sixers club of those who've summitted the lot. We opted for the much visited Mount Jo. Even at 7:30 am, we were lucky to snag one of the last spots in the car park next to the lodge and trailhead. Latecomers were relegated to the overflow lot, adding another 1.5 miles to their hike along a narrow shoulder of not terribly scenic and very busy road. The route to the summit itself passes the nature museum and continues on the Indian Pass Trail, skirting the shore line of serene Heart Lake. We went for the short but steep trail on the way up, clambering over boulders and ascending 710 feet with a noticeable temperature change. The reward was the view from the top, offering a sweeping panorama of the High Peaks. Coming from North Carolina, where the fall foliage in our mountains is nothing to be sneezed at, I have to admit autumn color in the Adirondacks is something special. The rich reds and oranges of the temperate forest intermingle with the blue and grey greens of spruce and pine in what is the southernmost distribution of boreal forest in North America. Here and there the brilliant mosaic is set off by the white bark of paper birches with occasional gusts of wind disturbing the little, yellowing leaves in twinkling, gold shimmers.

Our base in the region was Lake Placid. It is most famous for hosting the 1980 Winter Olympics, where American underdogs beat the Soviet team in a Cold War victory and went on to win hockey gold in a story known as the "Miracle on Ice." The Olympic Training Center still caters to sledding and skating hopefuls, and with the zoom lens of our camera, we could just about pick out the ski jumpers on top of the 90 and 120 meter towers. Sans snow, apparently these competitors in the national championships have some sort of dry slope technology on which to land, but man, the rug burn if you catch an edge! Yikes!

The village is quite charming with the cafes, bars, and little souvenir shops typical of many ski towns. But oddly enough, the lake that most of the village wraps around is not Lake Placid itself, but smaller Mirror Lake. Despite the bracing temperatures, we hopped into a couple of kayaks to paddle around the tranquil waters. We did get a chance to see the actual Lake Placid, located on the northern edge of the village, for the lakeside wedding. The happy couple even had the eponymous adirondack chairs for guests to sign as a creative alternative for a guestbook!

Pilot Mountain State Park, NC (United States)

“Watch for falling bombs!” is what the sign should have read as we were pulling into the campground. While we were a tad early for fall foliage, giant acorns from chestnut oaks were dropping all around with resounding thunks. A helmet wouldn’t have gone amiss… especially when a direct hit to my thigh hurt like a paintball at point blank range, complete with a yellowing bruise.

We were in Pilot Mountain State Park, one of my favorites out of the forty-some lovely state parks of North Carolina.  The park is located on the western end of an ancient, isolated range called the Sauratown Mountains, which rise sharply above the surrounding terrain.  Pilot Mountain itself was a landmark for Native Americans and pioneers. Today the peak - a white hump of quartzite capped with greenery - makes for a spectacular view, even from the highway (US Route 52).

The Jomeokee trail, looping around the peak, is a very popular one with easy access from the picnic areas and parking lot. A sign informed day-trippers driving in that the waiting time for a parking spot up top was at least 30 minutes long! The trail is a little technical, but short at a scant 0.8 miles. It rounds the dramatic rock faces of Big Pinnacle, and turkey vultures circled effortlessly in the blue skies above. More strenuous is the Ledge Spring Trail following along the rocky cliff. A fine afternoon meant the trail was fair littered with climbers and their gear – everyone from Boy Scouts to a sorority reunion seemed to be trying their hands (and feet) at it.     

Roads less taken included the Mountain and Grassy Ridge Trails, ascending and traversing the mountain. Yellow wingstems were in full flower along the sunnier patches of the upper Mountain Trail, and sprawling stands of pokeweed with their hot-pink stems and deep purple berries made for striking contrasts in the shadier parts. Grassy Ridge deserves its name. The same weeds we mow in our sad excuse for a lawn back home were growing in riotous green splendor on the forest floor, producing a rather restive feel under the canopy. Grassy Ridge is also a bridle trail, though most of the evidence we saw were riders at the junction heading down the longer corridor trail to the river.  This actually put us more at ease, as our dog has a tendency to bark at horses and, even more unsettling, a penchant for their poop!

Linville Gorge and the Blue Ridge Parkway, NC (United States)

North Carolina offers a multitude of options for connecting with the great outdoors, and many a weekend of our previous lives here saw us tramping, as the Kiwis call it, the length and breadth it. As we've been back in the States over a year now (!), it seems high time we revisit some of our favorite spots.

The old mountain chain that runs down along the east coast of the U.S. are the Appalachians (pronounced "a-puh-LATCH-uhns" for the yankees or foreigners out there), and the western part of North Carolina is in the section aptly named the Blue Ridge Mountains. People from around the country visit, making the 400+ mile stretch of scenic highway known as the Blue Ridge Parkway the most visited unit of the entire National Parks System annually. Highway is a bit of misnomer in the usual sense. The speed limit is often around 35 miles per hour and even that will slow to a crawl with traffic during the fall foliage season. The many overlooks do offer gorgeous misty blue views, and the winding road makes it very popular with motorcyclists as well. 

Just off the parkway, the Linville Gorge Wilderness Area lies inside the Pisgah National Forest. The Linville River winds through old growth forest before plunging as a series of waterfalls: an upper twin set flowing into a curving small gorge, then dropping again another 45 feet to the pool below. The trails around and overlooking the plunge basin are relatively easygoing, and recent heavy rains only further improved the whitewater effect. The river continues on with much more technical hikes along the upper ridge of the Linville Gorge proper and steeply descending the 1400 feet to the river below. Topographical maps and compass - and the ability to use them - are highly recommended as not much may be marked beyond the trailheads in this dense forest. There also be bears. Black bears, to be specific. We didn't see any, which was probably a good thing, as Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods has given me a few too many wayward thoughts along those lines... and we didn't have the recommended bells on. There was a colorful array of mushrooms in the undergrowth of this hardwood and pine forest. Unfortunately, the wet conditions that produce such fungi and the gushing falls had a downside. The low-lying rain clouds obscured views across the gorge and even sometimes a few feet in front of our faces. Hours of hiking on slick trails also made for a little unpleasantness, particularly when I succumbed to the inevitable belly flop in the mud in my typical bumbling style. The good news was we discovered our new rain jackets passed the downpour test!       

   

Plitvice Lakes National Park (Croatia)

At around 12 - 30 kuna (roughly $2-4), boreks are a cheap and hearty option for breakfast on the go. Puff pastry is rolled in a tube shape - or perhaps layered in a pie and served as a quarter slice - and filled with either ground meat, fresh cheese, or a sweet fruit compote. The meat ones, seasoned with black pepper and minced onions, taste almost identical to a Cornish pasty. The boreks are so generously portioned that you usually need both hands to eat it, and they also made easy packed lunches for our visit to Plitvice Lakes National Park.

The place ranks very high on the must-see lists. Tourists who may see nothing else of the countryside will come to Croatia's largest national park in a long day trip from the larger cities of Split or Dubrovnik. That being said, the park does lend itself pretty well to visitors of limited mobility (or those who just plain aren't used to the great outdoors) with trams and ferry access points and all of the main highlights neatly arranged in a series of clearly marked routes.

One quickly realizes the universal appeal of Plitvice. Breathtaking waterfalls drop from limestone cliffs into a succession of 16 clear, turquoise lakes. The highest waterfall, Veliki Slap, rises 78 meters high (~ 256 ft). Boardwalks meander around lush vegetation and smaller cascades rush over travertine terraces. Anywhere else in the world you would have had to rack up serious miles driving and hiking for days to achieve an itinerary of this many waterfalls.

Plitvice's popularity can mean congestion. We actually saw traffic jams, queues of people forming on the trails for the most impressive sights! There were some stragglers left from the marathon that occurred earlier, but we counted ourselves lucky that our visit still was just before the start of the high season. On the other hand, we were not so fortunate in the weather. Frequent, cool showers put a damp-er (Rich made me say that!) on our visit as we were ill-prepared without rain jackets in the first place, and even more so, after we lost the umbrella. In the end, we had to leave Plitvice a little early in search of dry clothes and hot showers... which were, sadly, not enough to ward off the colds we got as souvenirs. 

Triglav National Park and the Julian Alps (Slovenia)

Triglav Mountain, the highest mountain in Slovenia at 2864 m (9396 ft), is so emblematic that it features on the national flag. The park that bears its name is difficult to see via public transport so we joined an organized trip. Another reason not to drive yourself is that the road into the Julian Alps climbs steeply and winds through 50 switchbacks. Our first stop was a short but steep hike up a mountain still covered in snow... in our sandals. Near the top, we could see for miles: in one direction lies Austria, and in the other, Italy. The shifting fronts of World War I could still be seen in abandoned concrete bunkers and empty lookouts posted along the ridge. Part of our drive was through the Vršič Pass on the Russian Road, so called because of the many Russian prisoners of war who built it. A chapel commemorates those who died doing so.

Much of our route followed the Soča River. We hiked to the source, climbing boulders, and in some cases, clinging to cables anchored in the sheer rock walls. The water gushed out of the rock, flowing over a giant snowball, probably several meters in diameter, the last remnant of the winter snow melt. More cables and narrower rock bridges also brought us to a lovely waterfall cascading into a secluded cavern. There are many opportunities along the Soča for postcard pictures of alpine forests and dramatic limestone landscapes.

For a more active river experience, whitewater rafting was an excellent way to get the juices flowing again, especially after a long time in a minibus. The water of the Soča is a surreal turquoise hue and an invigorating 7 °C, making us glad for the thick neoprene wetsuits we were wearing. While the class III rapids weren't the most extreme we've done, there were sections that required some hard paddling and all hands taking cover in the center of the boat. No one fell out, although when the opportunity to voluntarily jump off a big rock into the whirling waters presented itself, I misjudged it, of course. Rich was a little nervous watching me swim hard against the current to make it back to the extraction point!

Lake Bled (Slovenia)

Lake Bled has been a popular holiday destination for over a hundred years... and deservedly so. A pristine lake with a small island in the middle, evergreen forests surrounding, and a castle atop a cliff thrown in for good measure - it is what the word picturesque must have been invented for.

A short, steep hike brings you to the castle, where we found the beginnings of a medieval camp, complete with tents with streaming banners, armor, and archery targets. Alas, we were a few days early for the festival! Hence the only activity we saw were the costumed docents grilling sausages over the fire for their lunch. The interiors of the castle contained a museum detailing who had occupied it, descriptions of the region at different historical and geological times, and several slightly creepy mannequins dressed based on local archaeological, burial finds. There was also a medieval printer's where you could press your own bookmark on handmade paper.

An easy walk around the lake takes but a few hours. However, should the romance of the setting take you, you can hop into a traditional pletna boat with a local man to pole you to the island, gondalier-style... or row your sweetheart yourself in a rowboat for two. On the island, 98 stone steps rise to a small church. Legend has it that grooms who manage to carry their brides up this ascent will have good luck, and the custom is still alive today.

Lake Bled was also where we got our first taste of ćevapčići and pljeskavica. These were, respectively, minced meat sausages (served in a hefty portion of 8 or 10 to a person) and giant minced meat pancake (accompanied by a scoop of local soft kajmak cheese more akin to butter). We found out later they are originally from Sarajevo but were so popular that variants could be found throughout the countries formerly part of Yugoslavia. Both dishes are delicious and very cheap, making them appear frequently on fast food menus. The most iconic dish of Bled, however, is a dessert, the kremšnita. Sandwiched between two layers of puff pastry is a thick layer of custard under an even thicker block of whipped cream. The concoction has been made fresh daily by chefs in the local grande dame hotel for over 60 years although every place around the lake seems to be well-equipped to serve it al fresco.  

Þórsmörk (Iceland)

In a season characteristically marked by constant rains and cold, we'd been graced with unseasonably good weather thus far on our trip. Even our day on the glacier was gloriously sunny. Conditions changed drastically and rapidly on our way to Þórsmörk.

In a country where babies are left unattended in prams outside in the winter because "it's good for them," the strongly-worded recommendation to leave your 4WD rental in Hvolsvöllur and take the bus into Þórsmörk sounded ominous. With good reason. The "bus" is an all-terrain beast with giant wheels, and the track into the region is on the volcanic rocks of a shifting, wide bed of the river Krossá. There are many fast-flowing streams to cross, where it's difficult to see the bottom even in the best conditions. Heavy snow was falling by the time we reached the first ford. As the weather continued to deteriorate, the bus driver had to frequently stop to wipe the windshield. Several times Rich had to get out to help him find the quickly disappearing track, directing him so the bus would avoid what the pre-recorded tour guide cheerfully informed us were "large patches of quicksand" over the speakers. The last river crossing made even the stoic bus driver balk. He called ahead as if to ask, "Are you sure we should be coming out in this weather?" Evidently, he received an affirmative. He waved Rich back in, attached seals to prevent water coming up the exhaust, and slowly drove across the 60 feet of swift, black waters.

Not far on the other side, we were surprised to find the cabins at our destination were warm and pleasantly situated at the foot of the mountains. The Þórsmörk region (literally, "Thor's Woods") is famous in Iceland for its hiking. We still had a couple of hours of daylight left so we bundled up and headed out in search of the short loop to the nearest summit. Mistakenly trusting in the older footprints of an American couple, we went off the trail, discovered our own way up the brushy slope to the top, and turned back round. When we met the friendly honeymooners later, we had to forgive them. Especially when our host at the cabins opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of genuine cava (!) for us all to toast their nuptials.

Despite its remote location, the trek from Laugavegur to Landmannalaugar is one of the most popular in Iceland. We didn't have the 3 or 4 days to do the whole thing, but Þórsmörk is situated along a picturesque portion of it. After a hearty breakfast the next morning, we each put on another 4 or 5 layers and walked out again into the cold. The long loop began meandering through the valley framed by ridges lined with squat, snow-covered trees. The silent, icy landscape made me feel like I was walking into Narnia still in the grip of the White Witch's power. The trail opened out onto the wide river bed where glacier-fed streams made rivulets in the volcanic rock, and we saw our first set of arctic fox tracks. Eventually we found the turn off and started the climb up the mountains.

Sign-posting is notoriously sparse and curiously ambiguous in Iceland. The trail wound its way up very narrow ridges, which were made more treacherous by the thick layer of fresh powder. I really missed the crampons from our glacier hike! By dint of climbing, scrambling, and some honest-to-God hugging of the mountain, we managed to make it to the top. And boy, was the view worth it! Vast snow fields that would make a snowboarder weep opened onto grand vistas of majestic mountaintops, like something out of Lord of the Rings… and we had it all completely to ourselves. Truly, some of the most breath-taking sights we have ever seen.

Coming around the mountains and back down to the valley was no easy feat either. It was one long game of hunt for the trail marker in the deep snow. The traverses were even narrower, all of our concentration fixed on putting one foot in front of the other to feel for the ledge. I never looked behind me, counting on the small sounds Rich was making to assure me he was still back there. If I turned and lost my balance, I could pitch headlong into the steep drop off on our right and land broken on the rocks below. A tourist hiking in the region disappeared the month before and was never found again despite mounting huge search parties. In the isolation, it's easy to imagine how difficult it would be for rescuers to find you before you died of exposure.

We made it through, worn out. Covering about 14 km (~ 8.5 miles) with a rise of 270 m (~ 900 ft) – and the same of a descent – in the deep snow, it was one of the most technical hikes we’ve done. But it was also one of the best! The landscape was stunning, and we would love to go back to do it again… in the summer!  

Quepos, Rio Savegre, and Manuel Antonio (Costa Rica)

We jumped into Jimny 2 and headed out of the mountains. The views were really quite beautiful with rolling green landscapes dotted with the occasional livestock, reminiscent of the South Downs in England or parts of the North Island in New Zealand. Our journey continued down the Pan-American Highway along the Pacific Coast, where plenty of parking attendants beckoned hungry truckers with their come-hither motions to roadside restaurants.

Quepos may be on the doorstep to one of the more popular stops on the Gringo Trail, but other than a street of souvenir shops, the town retains a strong local vibe. We hunted down a real ferretería (a catch-all store with hardware and other odds and ends) to pick up our own souvenir: a good machete! A quick survey of Costa Rican farmers would indicate the handy tool/weapon to be as essential an accoutrement as the ubiquitous rubber boots. The specimen we found was of a hefty steel for 4000 colónes (~ 8 USD), far superior to the sad excuse we got from our local Lowe's that got a chip in the edge at first use.

Avoiding the afternoon downpour, we had one of the best meals at a hole in the wall in Quepos. Their version of tacos were crunchy rolls filled with slow-cooked, shredded pork hidden under a heaping helping of cabbage slaw. With one of the fresh fruit juices, they made for a delicious meal and probably our only reasonably priced one in the country.

Whitewater rafting on the Rio Savegre was not quite as extreme as they had sold it to us. However, our guide was much more knowledgeable about the flora and fauna than the one in Monteverde, even elaborating on the booming palm oil industry in the region as we passed plantations and processing facilities. Our transport to the river was a yellow school bus, delighting Rich who had never ridden in one. The trip included plenty of opportunities to stop and swim under waterfalls - helmets strongly advised! The last set of rapids were so gentle that we all floated down sans raft... although keeping your head above water is still a bit of a challenge.

Manuel Antonio National Park was the reason why we and everyone else were there. From Quepos, drivers must navigate the gauntlet of unofficial parking with touts insisting their lot really is the last one before the entrance. It was very quiet when we arrived, but the rains seemed to have driven away much of the famed wildlife of the park. Our early arrival did mean we got first pick on the gorgeous mangrove-lined Manuel Antonio beach. This also made for prime viewing of the only wildlife we did see: a couple of sneaky raccoons making off with a beach bag... and the hilarious attempts of the owners to pursue the thieves!

Monteverde and San Luis (Costa Rica)

The Monteverde cloud forest is one of Costa Rica's most popular tourist destinations, and our digs were distinctly off the beaten path. The University of Georgia has a campus-turned-ecolodge outside the village of nearby San Luis. Populated with mostly study abroad students and professors teaching special summer sessions, visitors can also pay to stay, space permitting. Our visit began with a brief orientation with one of the resident naturalists asking about our interests and outlining a personalized schedule for us. We started off on one of the night hikes in the area, where our guide catered to my interest in creepy crawlies and shined her flashlight into the den of a particularly burly tarantula. Lest we missed out on any specimens, they also were kind enough to arrange a viewing of their insect collections back in the lab. Our natural history day hike in the transitional forest was also very informative, and we lost track of time discussing biodiversity, conservation, and agriculture with our guide. The campus also maintains an on-site farm focused on sustainability and providing a substantial proportion of the food for the 3 square meals included daily in the lodge stay. We tried our hands at milking the campus cows, a first for Rich, despite growing up on dairy farms. It's a lot harder than it looks... especially aiming into the bucket.

Off campus, we did make it into the official Monteverde Reserve, but after our one-on-one time with UGA guides, the tour was a bit of a letdown. Most visitors are rabid to spot the iconic quetzal bird ("Beautiful plummage!"). After a couple of 15 minute stops spent peering forlornly into the misty canopies, our reserve guide clearly felt the whole trip was a wash and high-tailed us back in the dismal rain to the entrance. 

A far superior experience was ziplining. Costa Rica was one of the places that popularized it, and even if it is a tourist trap, we do have a weakness for adrenaline sports. There were 15 proper cables: fast enough to need to brake hard at the end, without much of a delay between rides, and the longest was a whopping 1 kilometer ride! The best part was the giddy drop-off (maybe 50 feet?) as a human pendulum in the Tarzan Swing. Stopping was a bit tricky as two of the guides had to either grab for your feet (I nearly lost a shoe) or quickly loop a giant rubber band around your midsection to catch you like some Wile E. Coyote move.

The last Monteverde mention must be a shout out to the cheese factory. We didn't end up taking the tour, but we finally understood the fuss about the best milkshakes ever. They make the ice cream on-site with local flavors like cas (a type of guava), soursop, and some fantastic combination involving sweetened condensed milk and fig... AND they use whole cow's milk (i.e. with floating cream) for these concoctions. Mmm, mmm, good!

Alajuela and La Fortuna (Costa Rica)

We have been so occupied getting our *permanent* move on (more on that later) that we haven't had a chance to do much else... until now. Our next destination is a popular one among Americans - Costa Rica. We thought we'd go see what all the fuss is about.

The airport for the capital San Jose is actually in nearby Alajuela. Arriving in the evening, we heeded the horror stories about driving at night in the country and bunked down for the night. Even picking up the rental - a 4WD called Jimny, like the cricket - was a bit of an adventure. As my experience with a stick shift has been limited to tractors with, say, a maximum speed of 15 mph, Rich was going to be our primary driver. The gears are the same as in left-side-driving British cars, but the relative orientation to the driver makes it a tricky switch (e.g. pulling towards you for first gear rather than pushing away in the UK). Also, addresses in Costa Rica are of an idiosynchratic nature, with most roads not having a name and based on local spots that may, or may not, exist any more. For example, one place is listed as at "600 meters from the old school." Luckily, the rental car agency actually drove us by the hostel, pointing out the relevant landmarks- Delta gas station, hospital, etc. - to make sure we'd find our way back.

Bright and early we hit the road towards La Fortuna. The 3 hour drive into the mountains is pretty and lush now in the rainy season. "Sodas," or cheap eateries, beckoned to us along many turns, all boasting the best "mirador" (= scenic viewpoint), and roadside stalls hawked pyramids of spiny rambutans and fresh mangoes.

La Fortuna is the gateway to Mount Arenal. We did a bit of hiking around the observatory lodge, but cloud cover hid the top of the volcano most days. We paid the hefty entrance fee to see the La Fortuna waterfall, a striking 75 meters (about 250 ft) in height. The plummeting waters created a surprisingly strong and choppy current, easily wearing swimmers out from any romanticized notions drawn from The Blue Lagoon.

While the Arenal volcano may not be active any more, the natural hot springs are still a big draw. We took advantage of a low season 2-for-1 deal at a swanky resort to check out how the other half  (or 1%?) lives. Eighteen pools of varying temperatures were laid out in secluded nooks of tropical plants and with little cascades offering gentle massages. The day pass meant us plebes could also sneak in a game of billiards and check out the onsite wildlife rescue center. Living there are toucans, monkeys, sloths (called "perezoso" by Costa Ricans, which translates to lazy!), and a variety of predator cats confiscated from illegal owners.        

Sitges and Vilanova i la Geltrú (Spain)

Sitges is a charming seaside town not far out of Barcelona. In fact, if you ask Barcelonins what beach you should frequent, the mere mention of Barceloneta, the city beach, will reap you shaking heads and snorts in disgust. Go to Sitges, they'll say. And so we did.

A scant 45 minutes on the train takes you to this little gem of a town. Meandering streets with the occasional touch of Catalan modernisme architecture take you downhill from the station to the beach. A wide and immaculate promenade takes you past gorgeous sea-facing villas and sailing clubs along the smooth, golden sand beach. Restaurants serve up paella and fideua (a very Catalan dish similar to paella but made with short noodles) to the hungry hordes, but there are plenty of low-key spots along the boardwalk, catering to sandy bodies and selling bocadillos (like a sub sandwich) and grilled combination plates.

The stretch between Sitges and the neighboring town of Vilanova i la Geltrú has a lovely trail offering stunning views of the turquoise Mediterranean and rocky outcroppings. On a sunny day, you can see from the top of a cliff to the sea bed. While you'll get the occasional topless beach-goers in Sitges, as you go further away, the tiny coves along the trail become populated with more nudes. Sitges is very popular with the gay community so don't be surprised if you come upon well-muscled and oiled bodies trysting. Pepper interrupted some sunbathers in a tranquil inlet by bounding up and down through the waves and stopping for a poo 20 feet from their blankets! Mortified, we cleaned up after her and got out of there as quickly as possible.

Arthur's Pass and Oxford (New Zealand)

Once you start heading down the west coast of the South Island, there aren't really too many options to cross over back to the east coast. Arthur's Pass seems to be the main highway through the Southern Alps. The transition from the wetter rainforests in the west to the drier sub-alpine east makes for dramatic landscapes. Kea, a species of mountain parrot, attack camper vans of unsuspecting tourists who appreciate the photo opportunity initially and then realize the birds are tearing at their door seals. The Devil's Punchbowl trail is a nice opportunity to stretch your legs along the way and check out another waterfall.

Not far out of the mountains, Oxford doesn't even exist in the guide books, but the nice little village is home to more family. Rich's cousins own a small farm, and we got to admire the gardens and meet their Clydesdale and Lipizzaner horses. The Shetland ponies followed us around, but it was the alpacas that really stole our hearts. With no regard of personal space, they stick their furry faces right up in yours, look deep into your soul with their big eyes, and give you a solemn sniff to greet you. Hilarious!

Greymouth and Franz Josef (New Zealand)

About 4 hours southwest of Abel Tasman National Park lies Greymouth. A quick glance around reveals its claim as the biggest city on the west coast doesn't really mean much, but after days in the backcountry, we were pretty happy in any place with a real bed and hot showers. The old mining settlement on the Grey River is home to a few shops showcasing quality jade carving. The green stone is highly prized in Maori culture, and though occurring naturally in this region, trade and the working of it is tightly regulated in New Zealand.

One thing we've enjoyed here is the availability and variety of craft beers. Restaurants and pubs around New Zealand prominently display their allegiance to different breweries, and you can be sure going into one that the full range from that brewery will be on tap. Monteith's is one of the most popular, and Greymouth just the happens to be the home of the original brewery. At first, the 30 minute tour seems a little pricey at 20 NZ dollars (= 10 pounds or 15 €), but then you get a 12 oz. pour of a brand new beer, tickets for an additional 3 glasses on-site, and a coupon for a free pint off-site. The brewers are experimenting in 3500 liter batches, and as visitors to the brewery, we got to try the new india pale ale and a truly fantastic apricot hefeweizen. Their black beer and winter ale also were quite tasty, and Monteith's Original – the oldest recipe and still the biggest seller – gets a thumbs up from us, too. After all the free alcohol, it's a good thing the in-house cafe also serves hearty fare like a luxurious seafood chowder.

Three hours further south of Greymouth is glacier country. There are two to choose from – Franz Josef and Fox. We had booked many months in advance and were very eager to hop on a helicopter and be whisked up onto the blue ice. Unfortunately, just as we started to suit up, the heli-hike was cancelled due to low cloud cover and poor visibility. We were gutted! The consolation prize – a free walk to the face of Franz Josef glacier – was much less impressive so we washed away our tears with a visit to the hot pools in town. Later, we blew some of our substantial refund on a lovely dinner of New Zealand lamb shanks and stayed to cheer on the national rugby team in a 22-0 defeat of their rivals, the Australian Wallabies. The All Blacks team are the pride of New Zealand, capturing the most recent Rugby World Cup in 2011, and it was great to see their awesome skills and watch them perform the haka (a traditional Maori warrior challenge) on their home territory.

Abel Tasman National Park (New Zealand)

Abel Tasman National Park, smallish by this country's standards, is located on the north coast on the South Island. We were there to hike the Coast Track, which has been designated one of New Zealand's 8 Great Walks. The entire track can be done in 3 – 5 days for backcountry hikers. Water taxis at several points and a bus at one end make it very accessible, and therefore, also popular with day visitors. The well-maintained trail itself is not very strenuous or technical. Marshes lead upward to the native bush of scrub land and rainforest. Secluded waterfalls and majestic tree ferns delight the eyes and add more beauty to the landscape. Isolated, golden sand beaches meet turquoise waters and white granite outcroppings. In summer, we've heard it can feel like a traffic jam on the track, but in the winter, we practically had it all to ourselves. Seeing half a dozen other hikers on the trail one day felt busy, and another night we were alone in a hut that sleeps 32 people. The huts are reserved through the Department of Conservation (or DOC), and though pricier than we're used to in North Carolina, they all had thick mattresses, wood stoves, and the hallmark of civilization – flush toilets with seats and toilet paper!

The one factor that does make the Abel Tasman Coast Track challenging is the tides. There are several spots along the trail where you need to cross tidal streams or estuaries. This involves a lot of head-scratching as you compare tidal charts, sunrise and sunset times, the estimation of your own speed (laden with your pack), and how deep you're willing to wade in chilly, often fast-flowing waters. At one point, several groups of hikers were sitting around for over an hour on a sandfly-infested beach waiting to cross a 3 meter stream. Eventually, boots came off and everyone rolled up their pants in their impatience to keep going. Further complicating these issues, we found the DOC estimates for completing a trail section to be, shall we say, ambitious… to the point where we started referring to them as “in New Zealand time” (= it will take us 1.5 times longer).

We did see a wide array of New Zealand fauna as well. Coastal birds like oyster catchers, cormorants, and ducks made regular appearances in Abel Tasman. Our favorite little birdies though were the fantails, which flit around picking up insects in the soil disturbed by our passage and flashing their white fan-like tails. The waters around Abel Tasman are part of the Tonga Island Marine Reserve so we got to check out some seals and blue penguins from our water taxi on the way back. The 3.5 days we spent in Abel Tasman National Park was a real change from the rest of our trip, and we really enjoyed this gorgeous corner of the country!

Whitewater rafting and canyoning in Sort (Spain)

Having sold our beloved car in the States, any time we get into one now seems like a special occasion. We headed further into Catalunya, driving northwest for 3 hours into the Pyrenees. The landscape was beautiful: golden with ripening fields of wheat, zigzagging in shallowly terraced strips, the occasional green vineyard, and dotted with monasteries and ruins. When we ordered a lavish array of tapas in the village of Tremp, the bill including drinks came to only 5 euros per person! It really hit home we weren't in Barcelona any more.

The tiny village of Sort, or "Luck" in Catalan, is famous for the lottery. The lottery, particularly the Christmas drawing, is hugely popular in Spain. In December, lines wrap around the block in the preceding weeks, and everybody plays, usually with colleagues from work (kind of like how nearly everyone in the States fills out a bracket or belongs to an office pool for March Madness). In a somewhat self-fulfilling prophecy, a store where the winning lottery ticket was purchased advertises the hell out of the boon and immediately increases future sales (and of course, the probability of more future wins). With a name like "Luck," many visitors to the mountain village purchase 2 souvenirs: a lottery ticket from the shop La Bruixa d'Or ("The Gold Witch") and a lucky witch doll. Rumor has it that the owners have capitalized so well on the mystique that the shop is only open in the 3 months before Christmas and spend the rest of the time jet-setting in their private yacht.

La Bruixa d'Or was closed so we opted for another kind of gamble - extreme sports! Marking another item off the bucket list, we went rafting on whitewaters of the Rio Noguera Pallaresa. During the beginning practice section on the river, what Rich describes as a "completely expected collision with a rock" sent me overboard into the literally breath-taking chilly waters. After floating downstream aways, I eventually got hauled in again. The dip made me very reluctant to revisit the experience, even during a practice drill for capsizing. Later, a couple of others in our crew also went for unintended swims, but everybody survived. Even when the raft caught some air a few times. The 3 hour trip navigating the Class III+ rapids was definitely invigorating! If only it didn't take us all about 6 hours to warm up again.  

This wasn't such a problem the next day. Clad in only an unflattering getup of helmets, swimsuits, and neoprene socks with sandals, we got plenty warm enough by hiking to the Sant Pere de las Malesas canyon. The first challenge of the day was just getting into our 5 mm wetsuits. A shoehorn wouldn't have gone amiss. We donned diaper-style harnesses, and away we went! Tramping through small pools and sliding down rocks, the physical challenge and fear didn't threaten to overwhelm me as it did when we tried canyoning in Turkey. Maybe this is because I conducted myself honorably in the two rappeling (= abseiling) sections this time. Actually I quite enjoyed the free jump from the waterfall and the "scoot down chicken-winged" section of a funnel. Rich, of course, wished it had been a little more extreme, but he was very grateful we didn't have to hike back in soaked wetsuits.