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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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Chalki: Less Wind, More Chill
Sophia and her friend, the Greek islands’ answer to Mrs Brown and Winnie McGoogan, are sitting on the steps chatting, as they usually are, as we say our goodbyes and head off to the ferry port. “Always take your key”, she had told us when we arrived, “because I never know what time I sleep”. Such is island life. After the Greece mainland, the large island of Crete, and the pleasant buzz of Karpathos, we are now looking for something more remote, more peaceful, so with our first glimpse of what lays before us as the ferry pulls into the tiny island of Chalki, the smallest inhabited island of the…
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Photo #21: First Light
When we look back at this photograph we can almost feel the cold, not so much because the temperature was spectacularly low but more because the sweep was so stark. This is Tafraout, Morocco, close to the arid Valle des Armandes (Almond Valley) where we spent a few days exploring and hiking the dusty barren ground in very hot temperatures. Yet as the sun went down, the mercury plummeted at speed, bringing extremely cold nights and the need to use the shepherds blankets left by our bed. This photograph captures beautifully the moment the morning sun creeps down the mountains before brightening the town – our breath would have been…
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Photographic Memories #5
As every traveller knows, when you look back through old travel photos, many of them trigger wonderful memories. With no current prospect of travel even domestically let alone worldwide, we will have no new adventures to blog, but we do have many such memories….. Photo #5: Mother Russia What makes this photograph special to us is how it captures the very essence of the way we had pictured Russia probably since childhood: a frozen river, austere architecture, smoke billowing into the morning air from the tall chimneys of factory buildings, it is the Russia of our mind’s eye. This was sunrise in St Petersburg, captured as we made our way…
