-
On To Mojácar: Pink Lakes, Red Prawns & Silver Moonlight
More often than not, when you visit something with a name like “the blue forest” or “the purple mountains”, they’re not really blue or purple, are they. OK so there may be a hint of the colour which gives the place its moniker, but you would never call it vivid. Until, that is, you visit the Lugano Rosa, the “pink lake”, just outside the town of Torrevieja, which is properly, undeniably pink. It’s rental car time again as we look to fully explore the next section of Spanish coastline and head down into Andalucia, driving south from Alicante and taking a detour specifically to see whether this lake really is…
-
Seven Sultry Days In Siem Reap
It’s already getting warm long before first light as we head back towards Angkor Wat, the clock ticking towards 4.45am and the darkness heavy with sultry heat even before the birds are singing. Michaela’s trusty weather app says today will be 39C but will “feel like” 45C and it’s clear that the mercury’s journey up the thermometer has already started. We’re up at this hour for the classic sight of the sun rising behind the temple’s five towers, a must-do experience for all visitors to Siem Reap. As we leave the tuk-tuk and start the long walk through the grounds, a silent pilgrimage of other early risers makes its way towards…
- Central America, Independent travel, Outdoor Activities, Panama, Photography, Travel Blog, Walking, Wildlife
Boca Chica: Sometimes Panama Needs A Mute Switch
It’s Day 47 of this trip when Michaela’s fitbit throws in the towel and responds to each request with a blank screen, then slides from 100% charge to under 10% in less than an hour. Not so interesting, except that this is the fifth fitbit in 3 years to follow this route. When we retired, Michaela decided that a fitbit would be a useful travelling companion, helping to record, in particular, our walking distances. Five have now bit the dust, not one of them lasting twelve months and four of them failing to complete their maiden journey. Every single one has failed whilst abroad. Any ideas what’s going on, anyone?…
-
Drug Barons, Michaela’s Knee And An Island Named Accountant: Days In Paradise
We have to admit that we’ve been a bit self-indulgent for the next seven days – well, it is Christmas after all. From now until 28th we’re on the ridiculously picturesque island of Contadora, out in the Pacific about 90 minutes on the little ferry boat from Panama City – a ferry boat which, with echoes of how Greek ferries used to be, crams as much goods and produce into its limited space as it does passengers. An early departure time means we’re down at Flamenco Marina before daylight and disembarked and checked in to our room-with-an-incredible-view on the island shortly after 10am. Before coming here we’d read that the…
-
The Grandest Of Canyons
It’s only ten days since we crossed off a bucket list item with the seaplane flight over San Francisco, and now here we are boarding our first ever helicopter with pen metaphorically poised to cross off another. Is there conceivably a better place to do this than here at the Grand Canyon? A brief walk to the Bright Angel trailhead on the day of our arrival has given us our first glimpses of this wonder of the world, so our excitement levels as we receive our safety briefings are absolutely off the scale. There’s a short delay to check the craft – a bird has hit the windshield on its…
-
Oasis: Days In The Sunshine And A Bit Of Morning Glory
Haircuts are something which need consideration when travelling longer term. Now, some who may have noticed that nature has already removed most of my hair will say that haircuts can’t possibly be a source of angst for me – and you’re right, they’re not. But bear in mind that when one doesn’t have much hair, a small amount of growth in millimetres is a large amount of growth in percentage terms – so whilst it’s not angst ridden, the problem is one of regularity. Michaela and her hair is of course a completely different matter, one which involves equal quantities of research, reconnaissance, perseverance and, ultimately, courage. Once through that…
-
The Boys Of Summer: More Tales From The Red Sea
Camp Sunshine beach bar has its music on a loop – a loop which perhaps should be a little longer. It’s a good job I have my headphones, given that we can hear the music from both house and beach spot and the inoffensive MOTR run of Santana, Adele, Richard Marx etc is at a certain point rudely interrupted by Tom Jones’ “Delilah”. We feel a pang of guilt laying here soaking up the sun while poor Tom is about to be arrested for stabbing his Mrs to death. We think we might know where we’re going wrong with the all-inclusive thing. I remember chatting in a hotel bar in…
-
Hopping Mad: The Lesser Cyclades
Here it is again, that feeling. It’s 7am and the sky is turning a blazing shade of tangerine as the sun raises its head above the mountain peaks. We chug out of Katapola and leave the beautiful island of Amorgos behind, and the feeling is here again: that heady mix of sadness at leaving and excitement at moving on, somehow even stronger when the leaving is early morning. As we bid farewell to Amorgos we have a distinct feeling – unusual for us – that we will return one day, not a reaction which we have commonly felt on our travels. Ahead of us now though is some old school…
-
From The Volcano To The Butterfly: Astypalea
Past the uninhabited island left shining white by the mining of pumice, the Dodecanese Pride catamaran powers on across the waters towards the first stop at Kos Town. Out here on deck, the wind rushes, the sun shines and the fountains of pure white surf make furious patterns in our wake, and we are thankful that the crossing isn’t quite as rough as we were told it might be. Until, that is, after Kos, when we are all shepherded inside as the next stage of the journey will be too lively for passengers to stay on deck, and what follows is ninety minutes of rocking and rolling and lurching over…
-
Tales From Tilos
Last night’s cocktails soon morph into drenching sweat as we haul ourselves up the steep mountain behind Megalo Chorio, the parched plants crackling beneath our feet, some brittle enough to turn to dust, others springing back upright, resilient to our footfall. A late night cocktail bar may not have been the best preparation for a climb like this, but the beautiful island of Tilos is taking us into its arms in every possible way. As ever, the climb is worth the effort. The views across the deep blue Aegean to neighbouring islands are matched by those back across land, the stark white buildings of the village tumbling down the hillside…
