JRNY Travel Magazine - Issue Eight

Beauty and the Feast SANTA FE, USA

Rainforest to Rockies BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA

Where the Mountains Meet the Sea NOVA SCOTIA, CANADA

A Wild and Windy Goose Chase NORTHUMBERLAND, UK

The Front Porch to the South KENTUCKY, USA

The Secret Manmade Islands of Pas-de-Calais PAS-DE-CALAIS, FRANCE

Where the Wild Things Are TAMBOPATA NATIONAL RESERVE, PERU

The Reserve Next Door ONGUMA NATURE RESERVE, NAMIBIA

A

Modern-day

Pilgrimage WEST SWEDEN

Before the Thaw NORTHERN MONGOLIA

Sustaining Shangri-la RAJA AMPAT, INDONESIA

The JRNY Team

Founding Editors: Kav Dadfar & Jordan Banks

Editor-in-Chief: Emma Gibbs

Sub-Editor / Head of Digital: Simon Willmore

Art Direction & Design: Jo Dovey

Picture Editor: Diana Jarvis

Commercial Manager: Sophie Stoneham

Contact Us

For general enquiries, partnerships or sales, email us at info@jrnymag.com

Thanks

JRNY Travel Magazine would like to thank Judith Neilson and the Judith Neilson Institute for Journalism and Ideas for their generous and continued support.

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Cover Image

By Dodi Sandradi, Dreamstime | Little Wayag, Raja Ampat.

Issue Eight

First published June 2024. ISSN

(Online)

W ELCOME TO ISSUE EIGHT

It’s somewhat mind-blowing to me that I’ve just typed the words ‘Issue Eight’ –I don’t think any of us could have dared imagine that we would still be here, making JRNY, three years on from our first, pandemic-motivated issue. But we’re of course thrilled that we are, and in particular to be sharing another issue of amazing stories with you.

This issue includes an article about a little-explored corner of Indonesia, Raja Ampat, which is – astonishingly – home to 75% of the world’s known corals, as well as an amazing diversity of underwater life, which Mark Stratton explores. Life on the water is the theme of Kassondra Cloos’s visit to Pas-de-Calais, a region more familiar to us Brits as a ferry port but home to a fascinating network of ancient canals. Avian coastal visitors are the focus for Mike Unwin’s trip to wildly beautiful Northumberland, while Mike MacEacheran follows the pilgrims’ walking routes through western Sweden and finds there’s lots to contemplate despite his own personal lack of faith.

In Pakistan, Simon Urwin takes in many of the country’s most beautiful – and spiritual – cultural treasures on a long overland journey. A road trip is also the focus of Kav Dadfar's visit to Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia, where staggering coastal views await at every turn. Also in North America, Sarah Rodrigues explores how Santa Fe’s food scene is beginning to reflect its Indigenous roots – I'd advise reading this one on a full stomach to avoid hunger pangs.

Proving that amazing places are always worth returning to, Tamara Hinson heads back to Peru’s Amazon rainforest and finds it as alluringly wild as ever. Wildlife is also the focus for Phoebe Smith’s visit to Namibia, where she eschews celebrated Etosha National Park for a quieter but equally thrilling experience just next door. Finally, we have captivating photos of Mongolia's annual Ice Festival – on a landscape painted shades of white and pale blue – by Laurent Nilles

As always, thanks for supporting JRNY – we hope you love this issue. Don’t forget to head over to our website (jrnymag.com) to subscribe to future issues, read more articles as part of our interactive “Narratives” section and listen to our podcast. We've got even more exciting things planned, and we hope you'll join us for the journey.

Emma Gibbs Editor-in-Chief

SHANGRI-LA

SHANGRI-LA SUSTAINING

IN RAJA AMPAT, INDONESIA, MARK STRATTON SNORKELS THE GREATEST CORAL SYSTEM ON EARTH AND EXPLORES HOW VISITORS CAN ENSURE A MEANINGFUL AND MINIMAL IMPACT ON LOCAL COMMUNITIES.

Fixing my mask tight to my face, I tumble backwards into the warm Dampier Strait, into the greatest coral system on Earth. The underwater gardens blaze with living colours and form: purple, golden-wheat and green, teased into the shapes of brains, antlers, rose-gypsum crystals and delicate fans. Darting around them are vast shoals of fish: silvery battalions of grey drummers, striped sergeant fish, orange clownfish wriggling through anemones and syringeprofiled pipefish. Thousands of blue-andyellow fusiliers appear like a technicolour

PREVIOUS SPREAD: A small boat in the

LEFT: Islands in the

OPPOSITE PAGE FROM THE TOP:

screensaver. On one snorkel, I encounter six hawksbill turtles, more than I’d ever seen during years of subaquatic exploring. What makes Raja Ampat so biologically diverse is its geographical soup of fast-flowing nutrient-packed currents, sea temperatures above 28ºC, and an archipelago of 1,411 corallimestone islands with shallow ledges and steep drop-offs. Resembling the shape of a bird’s head poking out from West Papua’s mainland, in Indonesia, the archipelago is at the very epicentre of global marine biodiversity – the Coral Triangle. The long journey to reach Raja Ampat ensures it remains something of a Shangri-la, an almost mythical place to come and dive.

“It’s home to 75% of all the world’s known corals and nearly 1,600 species of fish, significantly more than Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, despite having only 10% of that area,” Mark Erdmann tells me. Conservation International’s regional marine coordinator, he works with the Indonesian authorities to protect a seascape that was once severely overfished. Fishing is now only permitted for sustainable local use and the Marine National Park Authority’s focus is on conservation and tourism.

My journey to Raja Ampat drags me through a flux of disorientating time zones. By the time I’ve reached Jakarta then taken a further four-hour flight to Sorong in West Papua, my senses are spinning; and I then

calm tropical waters of Raja Ampat.

Dampier Strait.

The beautiful coral reefs around Raja Ampat; Hawksbill turtles are common in the waters around Raja Ampat.

ON ONE SNORKEL, I ENCOUNTER

SIX HAWKSBILL TURTLES, MORE THAN I’D EVER SEEN DURING YEARS OF SUBAQUATIC EXPLORING

TROPICAL DAYS ARE MEASURED FROM DAWN’S FIRST SQUABBLING PARROTS TO BLOOD-RED SUNSETS WHEN BLACKTIP REEF SHARKS CONGREGATE

BENEATH THE JETTY

have to make a two-hour ferry journey to Waisai Harbour on Waigeo Island, on a boat packed to the gunnels with cargo and people. The humidity is intense, yet the ferry ride hints at wondrous things ahead. I spy two whales – humpbacks, I think – and bottlenose dolphins with tiny calves in close attendance. From Waisai Harbour, after a giddying 48 hours on the go, a speedboat hurries me one hour west across open ocean to a private yet modest

island resort called Agusta.

There are two ways to explore Raja Ampat, either from island-based accommodation, typically small resorts or homestays, or from an evergrowing armada of wooden sailboats (liveaboards), locally called phinisi. These typically host eight to 12 guests and are equipped for diving. As I planned to snorkel, I split my two weeks between island accommodations, which afford

better opportunities to contribute more meaningfully to economically marginalised Papuan communities.

With rucksack slung over my sweaty back, I finally wade ashore at Agusta Eco Resort onto a coral atoll that’s circumnavigable – barefoot – in just 20 minutes. Sixteen simple wooden cottages are arranged around a shimmering white beach backed by coconut-palm-laced rainforest. There’s a reef just beyond the

turquoise bracelet of sea around the atoll; tropical days are measured from dawn’s first squabbling parrots to bloodred sunsets when blacktip reef sharks congregate beneath the jetty.

During the week I use Agusta’s open sea location south of Mansuar Island to explore the most popular reef spots across central Raja Ampat, joining fellow guests on day-boat excursions that include two snorkels. Many of the reefs surround atolls with small subsistence communities, which levy mooring or visitation fees. One of these, Yenbuba, is home to several hundred Christian inhabitants who have a church large enough to host a blue whale. Their levy of 200,000 rupiah (£10) per visitor incentivises the protection of their wondrous Ranuwar reef where I spend so long snorkelling over clams with iridescent blue interiors that my skin wrinkles like a brain coral’s grooved cerebrum. Under

CLOCKWISE FROM OPPOSITE PAGE:

Island; Agusta Eco Resort; Typical wooden water buildings on Waigeo Island; Scuba diving on the reef near Agusta Island.

FOLLOWING SPREAD:

Waigeo

Sunset in the Saporkren Village.

their jetty I enter a snow-shaker globe blizzard of butterflyfish, needlefish and the exotically named Moorish idols.

Another day, near Sawandarek village, I swim with reef sharks, big softies at heart, and spy a giant green turtle on the seabed asleep beneath a plate coral. I float motionlessly until this leviathan shifts its 5ft-long domed carapace to rise for gulps of air then I swim with him for ten minutes; his large eyes watch me until he descends deep into the ocean blue. Drinking a cold Bintang beer back

at Agusta that evening, I replay this wonderous encounter over and over.

Two of Raja Ampat’s most popular dive sites are within an hour of Agusta. At Manta Ridge, large rays arrive at a ‘cleaning station’ for the subaquatic equivalent of a full-body exfoliation performed by wrasse nibbling away their parasites. It’s an open-sea site and choppy waves make it impossible to get close. But I persevere. Despite swallowing too much seawater I spend half an hour floating above the churn watching the slow glide

of a giant manta below, its dark silhouette like an alien spaceship.

The number one honeypot though is a picturesque grouping of limestone islets called Piaynemo, renowned for Melisa Garden where corals festoon the rising vertical walls of outcrops fashioned into toadstool formations. The corals are magical, but for the first time alarm bells ring. Dozens of unhealthy-looking twostroke petrol engine speedboats usher crowds of sightseers here to a famous beauty spot overlooking the islanded bay. Likewise, shoals of liveaboards congregate to access the dives. Post-Covid, tourism is now close to its record level.

Mark Erdmann puts this into context. “Overall, tourism is still a positive force for Raja Ampat and its reefs. But there are signs of stress. Such as the damage from anchors from these liveaboard vessels,” he says.

I leave Agusta by boat transfer to begin a second week on larger Waigeo Island. During the transfer, I pass wallto-wall dive resorts hugging the coast, alongside many Papuan-built homestays, typically thatched cabins built over the reefs. They charge £25 per night, including three meals, and directly support the Papuan communities yet discharge human

OPPOSITE PAGE: Large rays at Manta Ridge ‘cleaning station’ where wrasse nibble away their parasites.

THIS PAGE, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Chilli tempeh at Raja Ampat Eco Lodge; Wooden bungalows at Raja Ampat Eco Lodge; Melisa Garden at Piaynemo Natural Park.

waste onto the reefs.

OPPOSITE PAGE:

My next stop however offers a vision for how sustainable tourism could protect Raja Ampat’s future. Pulling into the narrow bay of Raja Ampat Eco Lodge, Englishman Jack Burns and his Indonesian wife Adecya wait by two raised wooden cottages just above a narrow lip of beach. Over the years, I’ve encountered scurrilously loose interpretations of the term ‘eco’: who hasn’t been told they can save the planet by hanging up their towel? Yet here I find something holistically rooted to coral reef protection. Jack’s mantra is if we protect the land, we protect the sea. It’s the most eco-friendly accommodation I’ve ever experienced.

Jack’s philosophy centres upon

absorbing human waste before it enters the marine environment. We’re soon touring his fruit and vegetable agroforestry garden behind the cottages, on the margins of a rainforest that crackles with birdsong and hornbills, the wingbeats of the latter sounding like incoming helicopters. The planted purple dragon fruit, bananas, aubergines, mangos, papaya and soursop will end up in delicious meals and demonstrate how value can be created along the rainforest edge without clearing the trees. Jack explains he created a fertile soil from a technique called hügelkultur, filling dug pits with rotting wood. Meanwhile, the banana grove is a black waste system that filters out harmful effluence before it leaches into the sea.

Consequently, the surrounding reef is a vibrant coral garden. “Nutrient pollution from the lack of wastewater management is escalating from increasing tourism,” he says, as I sip a welcome drink of homegrown ginger and turmeric.

“I wanted to run a proper ecolodge, not just a lodge calling itself ‘eco’ because it’s close to nature. It’s not a profitable venture, more something that enhances and conserves the nature surrounding us. Unsustainable tourism means we’re at a precipice that could go either way for Raja Ampat,” he says.

During soporific days and crackling sea storms, I eat garden-grown meals, my favourite being the fiery hot peanut sauce of gado-gado. I snorkel each day over the pristine coral garden teeming with turquoise parrotfish and angelfish whose dorsal-fin curves like an Agincourt bow. By night I’m joined by new friends dwelling in my cottage: a giant green tree frog and an agile bat who slaloms like a skier between the lights.

Papuan communities inhabit the fringes of the nearby rainforest. I sit one morning under the shade of the community meeting-place tree at Saproken village, cutting up sweet-potato greens with the local women. And I trek to find birds-of-paradise, a land-based tourism activity incentivising communities to preserve the rainforest.

The rainforest is a goldmine for Deki Sauyei, who charges 450,000 rupiah (£23) to see two of the 45 species of birds-ofparadise in the world (most of which are located on nearby New Guinea Island). He collects me off my beach in darkness at 5am in his canoe to take me to his family’s rainforest holding. It’s been raining hard, creating a petrichor air. The giant snaking buttress roots are slippery green to touch. After an hour’s trek, Deki points skywards to a tree where red bird-of-paradises are damp with the early dew. Three of them are silhouetted against the dawn sky;

ABOVE: Jack Burns, sustainability expert and advocate at Raja Ampat Eco Lodge; Deki Sauyei, guide and rainforest wildlife expert.

Wilson’s bird-ofparadise, one of the many unique species found here.

THE TWO SPRINGS OF HIS COILED TAIL ARE SHAPED LIKE THE WAXED MOUSTACHE OF HERCULE POIROT

its only when they shimmy like can-can dancers that I make out the reddish-pink colour and two long, narrow trailing tailfeathers of their flouncy plumage. They are outshone though by the extraordinary Wilson bird-of-paradise.

Nearby, a single male clears his display area (essentially a pick-up joint for

females), flicking leaves and twigs aside. He’s beautiful and he knows it, with red, yellow and blue patches; when he tilts his head to sing, he reveals an electric green throat. The two springs of his coiled tail are shaped like the waxed moustache of Hercule Poirot. Deki tells me that on the following day he has a group of ten visiting.

That’s 4.5million rupiah (£230), way above the subsistence levels of most villagers, I comment. He shrugs and grins, revealing a reddened betel-nut-rotted smile. “No need to cut trees,’ he says, delivering a succinct assessment of how ecotourism delivers local wealth and conservation. Prior to leaving Raja Ampat, besides

frantically airing my mildewy clothes, I cross the Dampier Strait by speedboat to a legendary dive area at Cape Kri, to visit Sorido Bay Resort. It was founded in 1990 by Dutchman Max Ammer, who is widely accredited as the pioneer of diving in Raja Ampat. He’s worked extensively with the Papuan community to provide jobs and it’s heartening to see many of his dive instructors are local.

The tide’s out when I arrive, revealing a shallow plateau of bright corals where

baby blacktip sharks swim with impunity out of reach of deeper sea predators. I’ve come to talk sharks with Mary-Rose Tapilatu. The resort’s own conservation foundation, Raja Ampat Research & Conservation Centre, recently launched a move to bolster the zebra shark population, an internationally endangered species. The project is called Stegostoma tigrinum Augmentation Recovery (StAR).

Mary-Rose explains they’re sourcing unwanted zebra shark eggs from overseas aquariums as far afield as Las Vegas. The tank eggs are often infertile, but a few are

viable and since 2023 they’ve hatched five. “Shark finning was once a problem here and zebra sharks have only been recorded on our divers’ logs three times in ten years,” she says. Brown kelp purses in one tank are egg sacs harvested in Cairns, Australia, with tiny embryos forming inside. Adjacent is a live swimming tank, where I meet Buddy, their fifth hatchling, just a few months old and the prettiest shark I’ve ever seen. This elegant sandycoloured shark sashays around with long swipes of her striped tail, hence the zebra comparison. “We had no idea what they

eat but through trial and error discovered they like sea snails. They wedge the shell in their mouths and suck the flesh out,” says Mary-Rose Since starting they’ve rewilded three zebra sharks. Buddy will soon exceed 24 inches; he will then head into an outside holding sea pen to acclimatise to the wild ocean’s currents and tides. “The first three are still alive after one year,” Mary-Rose says, proudly. “The aim is to release 500, although this will take years”. That night, my skin prickling under the stultifying humidity delivered by a ferocious

downpour, I think of the long journey the nurseling sharks have ahead of them. Hopefully it will be a voyage crossing coral reefs that, with care and protection and better awareness of the choices we make as visitors, will remain vibrant and healthy in the biologically richest sea on Earth.

OPPOSITE PAGE: Mary-Rose Tapilatu, conservation expert at Raja Ampat Research & Conservation Centre.

ABOVE: Kri Island in the Dampier Strait.

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

It’s a long journey to Raja Ampat; the easiest route is to fly to Jakarta, then on to Sorong in West Papua. From here, you can take a ferry to Waisai Harbour on Waigeo Island for small-boat transfers to other islands.

BEST TIME TO GO

It’s hot and humid all year round; for calmer sea conditions, come from October to April.

FOOD

Indonesian cuisine is spicy and delicious. Fish is ubiquitous; stick with more sustainable deeper water pelagic species, and avoid octopus and lobsters as they may be illegally caught.

WHERE TO STAY

For a commitment to sustainability and nature, stay at Agusta Eco Resort (agustaecoresort.it) and Raja Ampat Eco Lodge (rajaampatecolodge.com).

HOW TO DO IT

Choose either all-in dive packages on liveaboards or island stays offering daily dive and snorkel excursions; the latter will often have the more minimal environmental impact.

MUST-PACK ITEM

A full light wetsuit and swimming cap for snorkelling – the sun will burn exposed flesh to a crisp.

WHY GO

To experience the greatest coral reef systems with the highest marine biodiversity on Earth, set among beautiful seascapes and limestone islands.

Photo Credits: Dreamstime; Marco Montaldo; Mark Stratton.

THE FRONT PORCH TO THE SOUTH

Kentucky is the “front porch” to the South, welcoming visitors with Southern hospitality. Home to the Horse Capital of the World and the maker of 95% of the world’s Bourbon, it also boasts the longest cave system in the world (Mammoth Cave National Park) and is the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, Muhammad Ali and Bill Monroe (the “Father of Bluegrass Music”).

While horses, bourbon and bluegrass music are Kentucky’s signatures, the Bluegrass state also offers the finest in dining, arts, entertainment, history and thrilling outdoor adventure to make any visit complete. Kentucky hosts large music festivals as well as food festivals. Worldrenowned chefs and artists live and ply their trade here and Kentucky’s outdoor adventures are spectacular and unforgettable. Experience the taste, sounds and sights of this amazing state and immerse yourself in its rich heritage and diverse culture.

Cumberland Falls State Resort Park; Mammoth Cave; Natural Bridge Skylift; Pennyroyal Scuba Center. PREVIOUS

Lake Cumberland.

THIS PAGE: Bardstown Bourbon Company: An Old Fashioned cocktail, invented in Louisville, Kentucky.

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP: Heaven Hill Distillery; Bourbon tasting at Hermitage Farm.

SPREAD:

PREVIOUS

Lexington Horse Farm –Lexington is the “Horse Capital of the World”.

THIS PAGE CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Kentucky offers rich culinary experiences; Sanders Cafe and Museum in Corbin Kentucky, Daniel Boone Country; Mint Julep Cocktail – the official cocktail of the Kentucky Derby.

OPPOSITE PAGE: Sanders Cafe and Museum in Corbin Kentucky.

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT:

Master Musicians Festival, a two-day music festival held annually in July in Somerset; Paducah Wall to Wall Floodwall Murals; Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro; Corvette Museum: Bowling Green.

KENTUCKY AT A GLANCE

The Commonwealth of Kentucky is bordered by seven states: Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee, Missouri and Illinois, with the Ohio River flowing 664 miles along the northern and western borders. The position of the Bluegrass state makes it a perfect place to start your selfdrive holidays, whether you want to explore the southern states or venture north. Kentucky boasts nine defined regions, offering exciting and unforgettable experiences. Here you’ll find lakes, rivers, waterfalls, caves, forests, mountains and rolling fields of bluegrass dotted with horse farms and bourbon distilleries. You’ll also find exciting cities, rich culinary traditions and more outdoor adventures than you can possibly squeeze into one trip.

1

BOURBON, HORSES AND HISTORY

.

Here you will find Louisville, Kentucky’s largest city and home to Churchill Downs, the iconic backdrop of the Kentucky Derby. The city was also home to Muhammad Ali, the legendary boxer and activist.

2. BLUEGRASS, HORSES, BOURBON AND BOONE

Visit Lexington and discover the thrill of Horse Country and Equestrian Heritage. If the Bluegrass Region can claim a title other than that of “Horse Capital of the World”, it would be as the centre of Bourbon Country.

3. NORTHERN KENTUCKY RIVER

The gateway to the South, where the small-town warmth and hospitality of Northern Kentucky go hand-in-hand with the big-city amenities and attractions of Cincinnati, Ohio. The region is home to CVG International Airport, with direct flights from London Heathrow.

4. KENTUCKY APPALACHIANS

Discover a region of inspiring natural beauty, varied outdoor recreation, rich country music heritage and fascinating folk culture. Here, visitors will find natural beauty in narrow ridge tops, deep canyons, rim-rock cliffs, and spectacular spring and autumn foliage.

5

. DANIEL BOONE COUNTRY

You can experience dramatic scenery and unbridled adventure in this region, which is home to the state’s most magnificent frontiers, from Red River Gorge, which attracts climbers from across the world to the “Niagara of the South,” Cumberland Falls.

6. SOUTHERN KENTUCKY VACATIONS

This region is home to four Kentucky State Parks. You can camp out beneath the stars or enjoy Lake Cumberland on a houseboat. Discover natural sandstone arches and some of the best whitewater rafting in the country.

7. CAVES, LAKES & CORVETTES

This region is home to Mammoth Cave National Park, the longest cave system in the world and many natural attractions, as well as full-throttle adventures at the Corvette Museum & Plant, the one and only place in the world where “America’s Sports Car” is manufactured.

8. WESTERN WATERLANDS

Here you can celebrate arts and culture with the World UNESCO heritage site in Paducah or explore beyond. With two of the largest lakes in Kentucky, the Western Waterlands region offers an inviting mix of outdoor recreation, arts, culture and history.

9. BLUEGRASS, BLUES & BBQ

The region where the “Father of Bluegrass”, Bill Monroe, was born - you can visit his birthplace at the Bill Monroe Homeplace. Music can be enjoyed at the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame & Museum in Owensboro, and be sure to treat yourself to some delicious Kentucky BBQ.

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

Direct flights operate from London to Cincinnati/ Northern Kentucky (CVG) airport on British Airways, alternatively, you can connect to any of Kentucky’s major airports (CVG, Louisville and Lexington).

BEST TIME TO GO

Kentucky enjoys mild summers and moderately cold winters because of its central location, so any month is a great month to travel to the state.

FOOD

When it comes to food, Kentucky may be best known for fried chicken but there’s much, much more on offer, not just in the major cities but also in the small towns and rural areas across the state.

WHERE TO STAY

There’s a wide range of accommodation in every price range, including lodges and cabins in 17 resort parks within its extensive state park system, and B&Bs in historic properties.

HOW TO DO IT

America As You Like It (americaasyoulikeit.com) has a 14-night “Sips, Sights and Sounds of Kentucky” fly-drive that includes stays in Lexington, Renfro Valley, Nashville and Memphis, among other great destinations in the state.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Comfortable footwear and a light top/jacket.

WHY GO

There’s nothing quite like experiencing the sights, sounds and hospitality of Kentucky.

THE SECRET MANMADE

ISLANDS OF

PAS-DE-CALAIS

A NETWORK OF ANCIENT FRENCH CANALS IS THE PERFECT PLACE TO UNWIND FOR A WEEKEND, WRITES KASSONDRA CLOOS , ESPECIALLY IF YOU WANT TO DO SOMETHING YOUR FRIENDS HAVE NEVER HEARD OF.

Ikeep wanting to tell you that we were deep within the marshes of Pas-de-Calais, which makes it sound like the hours I spent kayaking there were arduous and therefore worthy of admiration. But then I remember that there is no “deep” within the marshes of Pas-de-Calais. The network of canals and rivers in this UNESCO biosphere more closely resembles Manhattan gridlock than it does a dense jungle. Just zoom in on Saint-Omer on Google Maps and watch as the splotch of green north of the town immediately

turns into a set of intersecting blue lines. This skeleton of the marshes looks like a city grid surrounded by a suburban neighbourhood, complete with winding blue roads and cul-de-sacs.

And that’s precisely what’s so mesmerising and confounding about the Marais Audomarois, which has been an agricultural neighbourhood for over a thousand years. “Deep” within this ancient marshland, you’re rarely more than a few hundred feet from a road or a house. And yet you feel protected from the chaos of life and even the passage of time. So protected, as if you are miles and centuries away from modern society, that when your phone rings

PREVIOUS SPREAD:

The waterways of the Pas-de-Calais region.

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT:

The wooden jetty in Saint-Omer; Irrigation and cultivation in action in the Pas-de-Calais region; Kassondra and her friend paddling among the waterways.

long after you have forgotten about the inventions of email and mobile devices, you will be so surprised that you may overturn your kayak in a panic to silence it. (Hypothetically, of course. I certainly wouldn’t know from experience.)

I arrived in Saint-Omer last September with a kayak strapped to my back, determined to find a quiet break from London without travelling by car. I packed light — more or less. I brought a change of clothes, a

friend and a pair of foldable, 18lb Oru kayaks, tucked into massive rectangular backpacks with bulbous drybags hanging off of them. Much to the amusement of our fellow Tube passengers, we brought these boats to France on public transportation. We rode the Overground to the Underground to King’s Cross, took a train and a taxi to Dover, then a bus aboard the ferry to Calais. There, we boarded a shuttle to the city train station, and a train to Saint-Omer. And then we walked.

THE LAST FEW HOURS OF AFTERNOON SUN STRETCHED

ON THE WAY THEY DID AT

SUMMER

CAMP WHEN I WAS A KID

All day, we counted up a dozen transfers and laughed about the sheer number of segments of our journey. All this so that we could paddle a pair of foldable plastic boats to La Fermette de Marie Grouette, a B&B you can’t drive to.

And you know what? I’d do it again.

The Marais Audomarois was declared a UNESCO biosphere in 2013, but it has been an impressive example of human-curated nature for well over a millennium. Today, it’s a serene nature reserve that plays home to over 200 species of birds, including egrets and kingfishers. Leafy branches stretch across the narrower canals to create a shady, relaxing canopy, and it’s nearly impossible to resist paddling under the curtains of weeping willows.

In the Middle Ages, these waterways were much busier, when the people of Saint-Omer recognised wealth in the peat of the marshes surrounding the town. They drained the swamp, and in the 7th century they started digging. With simple tools, a vision and elbow grease, they eventually dug over 435 miles of navigable waterways and irrigation canals by hand. Little by little, they built a village of tiny farm islands. Rivers were their highways and wooden boats their lorries, piled high with peat, hemp and cauliflower. It

was a thriving community much more populous than today, complete with its own local fairytales.

Up until the 1800s, at least 400 families made a living farming these waterlocked plots. But in the 1970s, roads and bridges were built to connect the islands to each other and to Saint-Omer, and that number dropped to half. Today, almost everyone is connected by land, but there are still about thirty homes in the marshes that are only accessible by water. It’s the only place in France where post is still delivered by boat year-round.

About 105 miles of waterways remain navigable today and homes are still scattered around the banks, including a handful of gîtes (holiday cottages) you can rent. One of these waterlocked houses is La Fermette de Marie Grouette, a colourful bed and breakfast with only two rooms. We arrived with plenty of time before dinner and, with little to distract us, the last few hours of afternoon sun stretched on the way they did at summer camp when I was a kid. For dinner, our

host, Muriel, served us a beautiful charcuterie board and we dined on a floating patio as the sunset turned the canal shades of fuchsia, violet and habanero. We felt isolated in the best of ways, and I can’t recall ever feeling so relaxed within such easy reach of restaurants and cinemas.

The guesthouse was named after Marie Groët, a mythical swamp witch. In a waterlogged metropolis centuries before the invention of armbands, parents

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Swans and kingfishers are just some of the birds you might spot as you paddle among the waterways; La Fermette de Marie Grouette; A place to relax at La Fermette de Marie Grouette.

couldn’t very well have kids running around the water’s many edges, thinking they were invincible before they learned how to swim. So, they used fear to keep their kids in line, and broadcast the cautionary tale of a beautiful (though grumpy) princess who turned into a toad-like swamp witch when she fell into the peat and disappeared. The story goes that she had been picking flowers with her maid, Marie, using a wooden stick with a hook called a groët. When she fell in trying to pluck a flower that wouldn’t yield, she called for help. “Marie, la groët!” she kept shouting. “Hand me the hook!” But Marie just laughed until it was no longer funny, and by then it was too late – the princess disappeared, later becoming the swamp witch known as Marie Groët. Children were warned that she might snatch them by the ankle with her hook if they weren’t careful.

Today, the witch can be spotted most easily in the welcome video at La Maison du Marais, a beautiful and engaging museum explaining the history and ecology of the area. It’s a short and easy paddle here from the guesthouse, past scenic homes and a historic windmill.

While we brought our own watercraft so we could be nimble and not have to retrace our steps or rely on a car, you can easily rent kayaks, canoes, rowing boats and simple motorboats from a number of places around town. Les Faiseurs de Bateaux, a short walk from the Saint-Omer train station, is an excellent place to do so. As the only surviving builders of traditional wooden boats called bacôves, their staff

are well versed in local history and offer guided boat tours of the marshes. They also rent canoes, rowing boats and small wooden motorboats, and are the purveyors of detailed maps of the marshes. Their shaded patio is an excellent place for a pre- or post-paddle bite to eat.

For a special treat, come between May and September on a market day, when O’Marais by Isnor organises vendors to hawk local produce from bacôves – much like it might have been done daily centuries ago.

Wherever you put in your boat, it’s easy to navigate the maze of waterways thanks to a simple but modern system of numbered signposts. Each intersection is marked with a number that corresponds to a recreational map of the marshes, so you can paddle endlessly through the marshes without ever being far from directions.

And of course, if you do get lost, there’s always Google Maps to provide a roving “you are here” marker that bobs along the canals with you.

Just don’t forget to switch on airplane mode.

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NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

Crossing the Channel by ferry with a car is the fastest way to get here from the UK, though public transit is an easy (though timeconsuming) adventure for paddlers with patience. The nearest train station is at Saint-Omer, a 45-minute ride from Calais-Ville. From there, you can walk to Les Faiseurs de Bateaux, where you can access an impressive network of canals, rivers and streams.

BEST TIME TO GO

Late spring through early autumn for mild weather and a seasonal floating market.

FOOD

From May to September, O’Marais by Isnor arranges a regular floating market on the marshes, where you can buy local goods from traditional wooden boats called bacôves

WHERE TO STAY

In town, book Hotel Mercure Saint-Omer Centre Gare, which has comfortable rooms near the town centre and an excellent breakfast with a crêpe buffet. In the marshes, stay at La Fermette de Marie Grouette, which can only be accessed by boat.

HOW TO DO IT

The network of canals is vast and well-marked, once you get the hang of the numbered boxes posted at intersections.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Stash your overnight kit in a waterproof dry bag to ensure your clean clothes stay dry on your journey.

WHY GO

The tree-lined waterways make the marshes feel separated from the busyness of modern civilisation, even as they are only minutes away from the conveniences of modern life. Adding to the feeling of an undiscovered gem, you won’t find many English entries in the guestbook at the guesthouse.

Photo Credits: Pas-de-Calais Tourisme; Alamy; Kassondra Cloos; A.Chaput.

ABOVE: A boat tour from Les Faiseurs de Bateaux on a bacôve, a traditional wooden boat.

PAGE: The bacôve jetty.

A TALE OF

CITIES T W O

Sitting on opposite sides of Austria, Graz and Salzburg offer distinct yet equally captivating experiences. The capital of Styria, in the south, Graz boasts a blend of medieval charm and modern innovation, with a UNESCO-listed historic centre, bustling markets and renowned festivals. In the east, Salzburg has been immortalised in “The Sound of Music” and as Mozart’s birthplace, combining baroque architecture and world-class music festivals with breathtaking alpine scenery. Both cities are cultural and technological hubs where tradition and innovation come together against an enchanting backdrop of Austria’s natural beauty.

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THIS PAGE CLOCKWISE FROM BELOW: The Mur cycle path in

Graz main square; Gleinalm, a popular hiking area near Graz; Herrengasse, the city’s main shopping street; Das Frankowitsch Delicatessen shop.

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LEFT TO RIGHT: Clock Tower in Graz; View of Salzburg Old Town from Moenchsberg.

GRAZ

SALZBURG

Groedig town with Untersberg mountains behind; Original Salzburger Mozartkugeln chocolates; Salzburg Festival at Kapitelplatz; The throne room at DomQuartier museum.

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Cyclists along the Salzach River in Salzburg; The famous Salzburger Nockerl dessert; Mur Island in Graz; Lipizzaner Stud Farm in Piber.

NEED TO KNOW

GRAZ

GETTING THERE

There are daily indirect flights to Graz International Airport (Flughafen Graz) from Manchester, Edinburgh and all London airports, connecting via Munich, Frankfurt or Vienna.

BEST TIME TO GO

Spring to autumn offers ideal weather for exploring Graz’s attractions.

FOOD

Savour Graz’s culinary delights with must-try dishes like Styrian pumpkin-seed oil, Styrian breaded chicken salad and the iconic Styrian apple strudel. Be sure to also try the local wines.

WHERE TO STAY

There are plenty of options in Graz for all tastes and budgets. Opt for the city centre for easy access to attractions, with options including boutique hotels, cosy guesthouses and comfortable, modern apartments.

HOW TO DO IT

Graz’s public transportation system makes getting around easy. Buy a Graz Card to use public transport for free and explore the most important museums free of charge.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Comfortable walking shoes are a must.

WHY GO

For its vibrant cultural scene, historic architecture, culinary delights, picturesque landscapes and welcoming atmosphere.

SALZBURG

GETTING THERE

Salzburg is served by direct flights by British Airways from Gatwick and budget airlines from Luton and Stanstead airports. There are also connecting flights from Manchester and Edinburgh.

BEST TIME TO GO

Visit from mid-July to the end of August to experience the Salzburg Festival.

FOOD

Be sure to indulge in iconic delicacies such as Mozartkugel chocolates, traditional Mozartknoedel dumplings and the famous Salzburger Nockerl dessert for a true culinary delight.

WHERE TO STAY

For an authentic experience, stay in Salzburg’s Old Town, surrounded by historic charm and with easy access to iconic attractions. Alternatively, head out of town for picturesque alpine vistas and boutique guesthouses.

HOW TO DO IT

Explore Salzburg’s charming streets and Old Town on foot or by bike, or utilise the city’s reliable bus network for convenient transportation to key attractions.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Comfortable shoes and an umbrella.

WHY GO

For its musical heritage, baroque architecture, breathtaking alpine scenery, beautiful Old Town and Mozartkugel chocolates.

WHERE WILD THE

THINGS ARE

RETURNING TO PERU’S TAMBOPATA NATIONAL RESERVE, TAMARA HINSON FINDS IT AS WILD AS EVER.

Ifirst set foot in Peru’s remote Tambopata National Reserve 20 years ago, when I was 23. I’d never been to South America, but had to wanted to check out this wonderfully wild 274,690-hectare chunk of preserved land in southeastern Peru after a relative had visited during a backpacking trip. Things didn’t start well. My luggage went missing somewhere between London and Lima and I missed my flight to Puerto Maldonado, an Amazonian jungle town built on rubber and gold. By the time I clambered into the boat for my three-hour journey upriver to the Tambopata Research Center, I was a nervous wreck.

I’d never been somewhere quite so remote, and spent the first night with my torch clamped to my head, only to wonder why I awoke to find half of the Amazon rainforest had attached itself to the mosquito net surrounding my bed. But by day two I was smitten: with the daily alarm calls courtesy of the howler monkeys; with the endless inky black, star-spangled skies; and with the daily talks by researchers based at the lodge. Perched on the banks of the Tambopata

River (a tributary of the Amazon) and founded in 1989 as a base for scientists, it’s the only lodge inside Tambopata National Reserve. When it first opened, partners of researchers could join them for a small fee, before the owners realised that the wider public would relish the opportunity to set foot inside the reserve, too.

I returned to the reserve ten years ago, keen to show my husband the slice of Peruvian wilderness which had scared me silly a decade before. It didn’t disappoint. On our second night we walked back to our room and almost tripped over a bright yellow porcupine. Another day, we visited a clay lick to admire a gathering of macaws, just as a troupe of spider monkeys was making its way across the canopy. For five minutes, we watched as hundreds of the primates worked their way across the treetops, our heads turned skywards to watch the furry acrobats fling themselves from one see-sawing branch to another, dislodging flurries of leaves that fluttered to the ground like confetti.

Another decade on and I head out here again, to what is still the remotest place I’ve ever been, fulfilling a promise I made to myself when the pandemic kicked off and I was – like the rest of us

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The rainforest along the Tambopata River.

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A Peruvian spider monkey; Canoeing on Lake Sandoval; Red howler monkey; Pantanal caiman.

LEFT: Tambopata Research Center.

IT’S THE GUIDES WHO BRING THIS REMOTE PART OF PERU TO LIFE

– unexpectedly grounded. The decades have done little to change things at the Tambopata Research Center, which has 24 open-sided rooms connected to public areas by raised boardwalks that weave through the rainforest. Days still start jarringly early (around 5am), when guests set off on guided hikes or visits to local clay licks and oxbow lakes. Evenings are spent discussing the day’s sightings over chilled Cusqueña beers, listening to researchers’ presentations or watching films about their work – my favourite of which relates to an expedition that went badly wrong when their boat capsized on a remote stretch of river, prompting the Peruvian captain to fashion a replacement propellor from a tree trunk.

One night, we’re invited to check out the light trap used by resident insect expert Katherine Mamani, whose particular interest is tiger moths. Consisting of a bright white light dangling in front of a white sheet, it’s a simple set-up that allows researchers to gain an insight into the diversity of the rainforest’s insect life, and an example of one of the citizen-science projects that allow guests to contribute to researchers’ work. Sadly, I don’t discover any new species, although I do

spot a huge, golf-ball-sized dung beetle scrambling across the sheet.

On a day-to-day basis, it’s the guides who bring this remote part of Peru to life. Most are indigenous, with a built-in respect for the flora and fauna and no shortage of fascinating stories about growing up in the rainforest. On a previous visit, a guide told me how, as a child, he’d contracted a malaria-like illness and his father had taken a traditional approach to his treatment, sticking him waist-deep in the hot, cloying mud that lines the banks of the nearest Amazon tributary. For three days he remained there, sweating out the toxins, before his father came to take him back to the village.

This time, my guide at the research centre is Paul; as we make our way along the paths that twist through the rainforest, he teaches us snippets of Quechua, Peru’s most widely-spoken indigenous language. He tells us about life growing up in his community, about mind-bending ayahuasca ceremonies and the wisdom he’s gleaned from the village shaman. Paul’s passion is birds: he can tell a scarlet macaw from a red-bellied one when the bird in

OPPOSITE PAGE FROM THE TOP: Elevated walkways of Tambopata Research Center; Sunset on Lake Sandoval.

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question is a tiny dot on the horizon, and has a brilliant knack for using our smart phones to take National Geographic-worthy photos through his telescope.

One morning, we rise at 4.30am to visit a local clay lick (this part of Peru has some of South America’s largest). It’s cold and dark, and I wonder why I’ve dragged myself out of bed to stare at the rust-red clay. Minutes later, as the sun begins to rise, macaws and parrots swoop down from the skies. They exist largely on fruits that are either unripe or filled with toxins. To survive, they nibble at the clay lick’s toxin-neutralising sodium deposits, which date back to the time this region was covered by the Pacific Ocean. By the time the sun is above the trees, the entire riverbank is a blur of blue, green and yellow as hundreds of birds jostle for space.

It’s easy to become nonchalant after a few days here. Barely a minute goes by when I can’t hear a spider monkey crashing across the treetops. Spotting them is harder, simply because they stick stubbornly to the canopy’s uppermost reaches. Some of the best sightings are of youngsters tentatively honing their acrobatic skills with an obvious nervousness that has us cheering with relief when they successfully transfer from one flimsy branch to another.

The sheer size of certain creatures is, at times, unnerving. Paul points out bat-sized moths and caimans with truncheon-like tails that slither into the water beneath our tiny boat in the blink of an eye. There are peanut-sized ants and snakes in shades of green so bright they appear to glow. There are trees with hollow trunks I can walk inside and monkeys with shrieks so shrill that their calls can be heard dozens of miles away.

I can spend hours watching trails of leaf-cutter ants working their way along an invisible path, carrying fragments of foliage double their body weight, or marvelling at the weathered thickness of the figus tree’s buttress roots. Paul points out fluorescent fungi that cause two-week-long hallucinations if licked, walking palms, which use their leg-like additional trunks to move (up to 20yds a year) to more fertile patches of soil, and trees that communicate through

Macaws and parrots at a clay lick in Tambopata National Reserve; Tamara’s guide, Paul.

Leucocoprinus birnbaumii mushroom; Tiger spider.

their roots, sending SOS messages when attacked by caterpillars so that nearby trees can release a toxin aimed at the insects.

At night the activity cranks up a notch. After donning our head torches, Paul leads us along the rainforest’s paths to a soundtrack of bellowing howler monkeys and the chainsaw-like screech made by a local species of cicada. Our beams reflect off the eyes of the rainforest’s inhabitants, and hundreds of tiny eyes appear. On certain occasions, such as the moment I almost walk straight into the silky thread of a venomous banana spider weaving its way across the path, or when Paul announces he’s going to use his blacklight to find a scorpion (their exoskeletons fluoresce under ultraviolet light) and does so in under two seconds, I wonder if I prefer the blissful ignorance of darkness.

On my first visit here, there was no wifi and no mobile reception. When I returned the second time with my husband, I embraced the enforced digital detox, relishing the absence of bars on my phone, which I turned off the moment I left Puerto Maldonado – although I was irrationally furious with my husband when, on the final day, he told me he’d discovered that he could get a single bar of signal on his phone by standing in a particular spot. But though there’s now semi-consistent wifi in the public areas at the research centre, I’m pleased to report that it’s still as wild as ever – proof of which is in the huge furry spider I find hanging out in my bedroom on my final night. “It’s a pink-toed tarantula – the friendliest kind!” Paul says when I show him the photo I snapped before it scuttled away. Pink toes or not, I make a point of giving my boots an extra shake the next morning.

ABOVE: Scorpion under black light near Tambopata Research Center.

OPPOSITE PAGE: A man rows a canoe on Lake Sandoval.

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

The closest airport is Puerto Maldonado, which is served by regular direct flights from Lima and Cusco. All lodges in the Tambopata region provide transport to and from their properties; this usually involves an hour’s drive from Puerto Maldonado and a oneto three-hour boat journey.

BEST TIME TO GO

The weather is hot and humid throughout the year, and wildlife can be spotted yearround. The rainiest months are January and February, although activities still take place during these months. This period is a great time to visit the region’s clay licks – this is when macaws nest, making sightings of their young more likely.

FOOD

There’s a focus on local, healthy produce at the Tambopata Research Centre. Fish, chicken and pork feature heavily, and chefs are more than happy to accommodate specific dietary requirements.

WHERE TO STAY

The 24-room Tambopata Research Center (rainforestexpeditions.com/ amazon-lodge/tambopataresearch-center).

HOW TO DO IT

Packages, which can be booked online through the lodge’s website, range from three-night breaks to longer getaways focusing on birdlife or ecology.

MUST-PACK ITEM

A DEET-based mosquito spray.

WHY GO

This is one of the Peruvian Amazon’s most remote regions, and a guided visit not only provides a fantastic insight into the region but maximises your chances of seeing some of South America’s rarest creatures.

Photo Credits: Dreamstime; Paul Bertner; Tambopata Research Center; Tamara Hinson.

A W ILD ANDWINDY

MIKE UNWIN VISITS NORTHUMBERLAND WITH BINOCULARS IN HAND TO DISCOVER HOW BIRDS OF ALL KINDS FLOCK TO A COASTLINE STEEPED IN HISTORY AND HERITAGE.

GOOSE CHASE INDY

This feels like a classic Viking scenario. It’s a cold March afternoon and I’m standing on a wind-whipped northern beach, breakers thundering in beneath a menacing sky. In a movie, a line of sails would now be cresting the horizon, triggering cries of terror among the onlookers. Today, the only other onlooker is a distant dog-walker and the only cries are avian: the bubbling of curlews and piping of oystercatchers above the rattle of the wind in the fishing boats.

waders swarm over the nutrient-laden gloop, dinky dunlins attacking it like sewing machines; larger bar-tailed godwits are more circumspect. Meanwhile, red-breasted mergansers fish the racing waters of the river outflow and black-headed gulls hunker down in hundreds on the sandspit beyond, individuals occasionally whisked skyward before wheeling back to settle.

“You know what they say,” says leader Kevin Hall, as I step into the warm embrace of Nether Grange and shrug off my dripping jacket. “When the wind is in the east, it’s neither fit for man nor beast.”

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In fact, it’s these birds that have brought me here. I’m in Alnmouth, Northumberland, at the start of a self-guided birdwatching weekend with HF Holidays. My trip notes made no mention of Vikings – seafront parking spaces seemed more of a concern – and it’s been some 1,300 years since those unruly Norsemen first alighted here, prefiguring their invasion by ransacking Lindisfarne Priory just up the coast. Today, things are quieter. Indeed, in 2019 Northumberland was named the nation’s ‘most tranquil area’ by the Campaign for Rural England. The golf course behind the dunes doesn’t appear to have seen much slaughter or pillage. Mind you, in wind like this, it can’t see much golf either.

The birds remain undeterred. As the tide recedes from the Aln Estuary, exposing glistening mud banks,

Nether Grange was a granary before its 1870s conversion into a spacious family house. Today, the plush interior – with grand staircase, ballroom and conservatory – makes a delightful base. As does the location. Alnmouth village, with its picturesque fishermen’s cottages tucked between estuary meander and sweeping beachfront, lies at the mouth of the River Aln, just downstream from Alnwick. This means fine walks right from the front door and rich pickings for birdwatchers.

It being a ‘self-guided’ weekend, we guests get to devise our own itineraries. But we are not short on guidance: downstairs, an information room displays OS maps, bird books, walking guides, tide tables and bus schedules, with Kevin and fellow leader Nigel Wood on hand to dispense local knowledge. I like this

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Lapwings take flight on the River Aln estuary.

A turnstone on the beach at Bamburgh; Black-headed gulls on the Aln estuary; Oystercatchers fly over Alnmouth beach; The beach at Alnmouth.

hands-off approach: none of us is corralled into an activity we wouldn’t have chosen. Plus, birding in big groups seldom works.

After dinner comes a presentation from local naturalist Martin Kitching, outlining what we can hope to see. He explains that the highlights are seasonal. This month there’s little point in visiting the Farne Islands, for example, as the massed ranks of puffins, terns, kittiwakes and other breeding seabirds –Northumberland’s best-known avian spectacle – won’t be back until April. Besides, with strong easterlies forecast, no boats will be sailing this weekend. On the other hand, the wintering wildfowl and waders should still be cramming the coastal pools and marshes, with, if we’re lucky, the odd wandering raptor. Martin takes us through a map of top sites. The possibilities are enticing.

Saturday dawns windy but dry. Could be worse. I decide to postpone the exposed coastline to the north and instead head south to Druridge Bay, where old mining subsidence has created a series of sheltered pools in the lee of the dunes, some now Wildlife Trust reserves. I start at Creswell Pond, just 30 minutes’ drive from Alnmouth. Before I reach the hide, I can hear the soft piping of teal and whistling of wigeon and, once inside, I raise the viewing flap on small flotillas of these colourful ducks, the drakes decked out in breeding finery. Lapwings and redshanks pick at the margins,

shelduck sift the shallows and there‘s even a stately avocet at the centre. The more I look, the more I see. It’s a good start.

Next stop, working my way back north, is East Chevington. A long walk-in takes me past fields of hunched curlew and a scuttling covey of grey partridge – and I spy my first raptor, a distant marsh harrier quartering the wind-rippled reedbeds on uptilted wings. Martin says that bitterns and even otters are sometimes seen from the hide. I scrutinise the reed-fringed waterways in hope, managing to add heron and reed bunting to my list.

All morning, I’ve heard the muffled pounding of the sea. The beach seems a good bet for my packed lunch; perhaps I’ll spot some seabirds. I scramble over the dunes – only to be smacked in the face by those easterlies. Huge breakers nix any thought of sea watching. Anyway, it’s started raining. I return to the car, leaving the beach to a clockwork party of sanderlings that scurry along the surf and a single grey seal, apparently taking a breather.

My day ends at Hauxley Nature Reserve, just south of Amble, where I cradle a welcome cuppa at the visitor centre while peering at wildfowl through rain-streaked windows. The best action here is at the

AS THE TIDE RECEDES FROM THE ALN ESTUARY, EXPOSING

GLISTENING

MUD BANKS, WADERS

sundial in the garden at Nether Grange;

courtyard at Nether Grange; Lapwings and other waders at Cresswell pond.

Bay.

car park, where a feeding station attracts a frenzied rotation of hungry tits and finches. After a day staring at horizons, this change of scale is welcome. Best are the tree sparrows: a rarer chestnut-capped cousin of the familiar house sparrow. Driving out, I spy a field full of pink-footed geese and pull over to listen to their nasal chatter. These are winter visitors from the high Arctic; perhaps they’re discussing route maps for their imminent return.

Over dinner I compare notes with my companions. It’s been a good day all round, with a consensus that Northumberland is uncommonly packed with birds. And not only birds. “There are things in the world that are a complete mystery to us,” says Martin at tonight’s presentation, describing the amazing numbers of cetaceans now being recorded

along the local coastline, from harbour porpoises and minke whales to an impressive population of bottlenosed dolphins. Indeed, the entire northeast coastline between the Moray Firth and Humber Estuary is now designated an IMMA (Important Marine Mammal Area), thus continuing a local tradition of conservation that started in 676, pre-Vikings, when St Cuthbert first introduced laws to protect the eiders of Lindisfarne.

At 9.30 the next morning, I’m watching one of these dapper ducks – the county bird of Northumberland – from the causeway to Holy Island. The tide is out, and my car makes a perfect hide from which to study the scattered army of curlews, godwits, knots, dunlins and other waders working the mud, while the eiders cruise the channels. Today has dawned no fairer than yesterday – if anything,

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TOP LEFT: Birds at Hausxley Nature Reserve: Blue tit; Bullfinch; Chaffinch, Goldfinch.

BELOW: A marsh harrier glides over the marshes at Chevington.

MINIATURE FEATHERED VIKINGS THAT ARRIVE EVERY WINTER TO PLUNDER THE COAST

cousins, invaders from the north: miniature feathered Vikings that arrive every winter to plunder the coast – though their booty is more eel grass than jewelled goblets. They circle in ragged formation before alighting on the estuary to resume stuffing their busy beaks.

FOLLOWING

it’s rougher – but I’ve nipped up the A1 to start at this historic location because the tide tables dictate I have only until 12.10 before the North Sea returns, cutting the island off for another six hours.

Halfway along the causeway, I pass the raised refuge hut built to house any unfortunate drivers who become trapped by the rising tide and have to abandon their vehicles. “The idiot box,” Martin calls it.

Holy Island is a bewitching place, steeped in the misty past. Today, sadly, time and tide rule out abbey and museum. Instead, I tramp the rolling dunes, hoping for one of the short-eared owls that supposedly frequent them. The owls lie low – it’s a bit blustery for vole hunting – but I do surprise a roe deer, which bounds out of the marram grass at my feet, and watch clifftop fulmars effortlessly riding the gale.

Hurrying back to my car, idiot box in mind, I also disturb a flock of brent geese from a roadside field. These noisy wildfowl are, like their pink-footed

As I wander slowly back south, hugging the coast, the birds keep coming. At Bamburgh, beneath the imposing castle, I find a confiding party of purple sandpipers – another local winter special – foraging along the foam-flecked shoreline. At Low Newton, a National Trust heritage village, I watch a posse of drake goldeneye perform their head-bobbing courtship display to some uninterested females. And as I wind down into Alnmouth, I glimpse a barn owl dipping and wheeling over the glinting meanders, mothlike in the fading light.

In the fictional version of this adventure, perhaps with the Vikings defeated, Monday morning would dawn bright and sunny. It doesn’t – and, with a long drive ahead, I check out straight after breakfast. But before hitting the A1, I swing by Hauxley again for another peek at those tree sparrows. As soon as I alight, the birds abandon the feeders in a panicked flurry of wings. It’s not me, but a peregrine falcon that has chosen this precise moment to zoom overhead. A cracking bird – and it brings my weekend list to a respectable 78.

I pull away, turning south. The pink-footed geese are still in their field. Another fortnight and they’ll be hitting their own aerial motorway, turning north. But by then the first summer visitors will be arriving: puffins to the cliffs; swallows to the farms. With birds, every season brings its rewards. And Northumberland, it seems, brings more than most.

Birds at Hauxley Nature Reserve: A grey heron; Pink-footed geese.

FROM

TOP: The village and beach at Low Newton; The causeway to Holy Island at low tide.

SPREAD: Lindisfarne Castle.

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

Alnmouth is around an hour’s drive north of Newcastleupon-Tyne via the A1. Alnmouth station is on the main East Coast Newcastle–Edinburgh line, five minutes by taxi from Nether Grange.

BEST TIME TO GO

For birds, every season has different attractions. Winter brings visiting wildfowl, waders and raptors; spring sees summer visitors arriving and breeding seabirds on the Farne Islands; autumn brings passing migrants, including rarities. Late summer is quietest for birds, but best for cetaceans – and weather.

FOOD

Regional specialities include the famous kippers and smoked seafood at nearby Craster. Trips with HF Holidays include breakfast, packed lunch and an excellent dinner menu.

WHERE TO STAY

The Northumberland base for HF Holidays is Nether Grange, a spacious country house overlooking the beach and estuary in picturesque Alnmouth.

HOW TO DO IT

Book your Northumberland birdwatching break with HF Holidays (hfholidays.co.uk). These holidays are selfguided, which means bringing your own vehicle or using the good local public transport network.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Binoculars are essential and a bird book helps. In all seasons, bring a waterproof day pack, wind and rain gear (for boat trips too), and walking boots.

WHY GO?

Photo Credits: Mike Unwin; Alamy; Dreamstime.

Northumberland has one of Britain’s most beautiful coastlines, which is a key pit stop for migratory birds and a haven for seabirds and marine mammals.

Mike Unwin was a guest of HF Holidays.

RAINFOREST TO ROCKIES

Rainforest to Rockies is an extraordinary journey along ever-changing landscapes from Vancouver on the Pacific Coast to the Canadian Rockies. Rugged shorelines meet lush rainforests at the edge of sophisticated cities. Fertile valleys shift into arid desert and golden grasslands. Rivers flow from alpine lakes and waterfalls, rushing through steep canyons between towering mountains before meandering their way to the sea.

Whichever route you choose to follow, it will be a road trip packed with adventure, where magnificent scenery will have you saying "WOW" around every bend, and highway loops and offshoots are an invitation to find tuckedaway places, see wildlife and connect with warm and welcoming locals along the way.

THE CLASSIC: Along the TransCanada Highway Experience nature touched by and tied to a history going back millennia on the 483-mile journey along "The Classic" Trans-Canada Highway, ending at Yoho National Park.

PREVIOUS SPREAD: Standup paddleboarding in Squamish with Norm Hann Expeditions.

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Aerial photo of Vancouver; A bighorn sheep in Kootenay National Park; Adventure awaits at Golden Skybridge in Kootenay Rockies, home to Canada’s highest suspension bridge; Hiking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park in autumn with golden larch trees.

WINDING ROAD:

Crowsnest Highway 3 to the Canadian Rockies

Enjoy farm-fresh, organic bounty, from 30 varieties of tomatoes to nine recognised appellations of wine on a 643-mile route via the Crowsnest Highway, ending in the mountain town of Fernie.

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP: Red truck driving past vineyards at Covert Farms in Oliver; Walking tour in Osoyoos with Nk'Mip Desert Cultural Centre Indigenous Tourism BC.

OPPOSITE PAGE FROM THE TOP: Hiking in Cathedral Provincial Park; A couple enjoy the sunset on one of the trestle bridges overlooking Myra Canyon on the Kettle Valley Railway in Kelowna.

BIG AND WILD:

North to Mount Robson

From secret trails and solitary paddles to challenging climbs and wildlife watching, this 441-mile route travels via the stunning Sea-to-Sky and Yellowhead highways, ending at Mount Robson, the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies.

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP:

A group with Takaya Tours, rowing a traditional First Nations canoe in Howe Sound; A vehicle travelling on a highway past Seton Lake, south of Lillooet in Cariboo Chilcotin Coast.

OPPOSITE PAGE: Misty forest hiking along the Cheakamus Lake Trail, Whistler.

THIS SPREAD: Hiking in Mount Robson Provincial Park.

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP: Helmcken Falls in Thompson Okanagan; Grouse Mountain grizzly bears.

OPPOSITE PAGE

CLOCKWISE FROM THE TOP: Rocky Mountaineer luxury train rounding a corner through the mountain pass in Kootenay Rockies; Harbour Air plane in flight, Vancouver; Arrow Lakes in Nakusp, Kootenay Rockies.

RAINFOREST TO ROCKIES AT A GLANCE

Travel from Vancouver, the vibrant coastal city on the edge of a rainforest, through diverse landscapes – valleys, vineyards, Canada’s only desert, ranches, rivers, lakes and the Canadian Rockies – all in one iconic road trip. The journey along Rainforest to Rockies allows you to explore at your own pace on main roads and by venturing off-the-beaten path on stunning highways and winding roads, to discover hidden places and wildlife. With ten mountain ranges, over 15,500 miles of coastline and 25% of the world’s temperate rainforest, you'll only just begin to scratch the surface – and be planning your return before you've even left. Possible routes include:

THE CLASSIC:

Along the Trans-Canada Highway

• For a quintessential BC road trip, travel via Highway 1 from Vancouver to Hope, through Fraser Canyon to Kamloops and then on to Revelstoke, Golden and beyond.

• Some highlights include taking a tour on the Fraser River and enjoying a scenic gondola ride with Hell’s Gate Airtram before arriving in Golden for the Pipe Mountain Coaster.

WINDING ROAD:

Crowsnest Highway 3 to the Canadian Rockies

• For a relaxed trip through the BC winelands, travel along Highway 1 from Vancouver to Hope, then take Highway 3 in southern BC, passing through vineyards, Osoyoos (Canada’s only desert) and charming mountain towns. Extraordinary landscapes, rich history and diverse cultures await travellers around every corner.

BIG AND WILD:

North to Mount Robson

• Take the Sea-to-Sky Highway from Vancouver to Whistler, then hop on the stunning Yellowhead Highway, which will lead you to Mount Robson, the highest peak of the Canadian Rockies.

• Some highlights include learning about Indigenous culture with Xwisten Experience Tours, exploring Wells Gray Provincial Parks or visiting Sun Peaks Resort en route to Mount Robson.

DON'T MISS

1 . VANCOUVER

Experience West Coast culture and cuisine in Vancouver, Canada’s newest “Michelin” city. Cycle through Stanley Park and learn about the First Nations at MONOVA: Museum of North Vancouver, a new museum that shares Indigenous and settler stories and the history of North Vancouver. Then, indulge in the new culinary delights featured in the 2023 Vancouver Michelin Guide; eight restaurants have Michelin stars and a further dozen are Gourmands.

2. HARRISON RIVER VALLEY

The Sasquatch – known also as “Bigfoot” – is legendary in the Harrison River Valley, and sightings have been claimed here for centuries. But is it real? It’s your turn to decide at Harrison’s new Sasquatch Museum. Building on the artefacts and story around the Sasquatch (which is thought to be a mispronunciation of the Sts’ailes First Nations word Sasq’ets), the museum also includes a major section on the history of the Sts’ailes people and their ancestors, who have lived in the area since time immemorial.

3 LILLOOET

Lillooet is one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in North America, dating back more than 8,000 years. Visitors can experience that history with Xwisten Experience Tours, an Indigenousowned tour operator celebrating its 20th anniversary in 2024. Their tours highlight two historically significant sites to the Xwísten (Bridge River) people: fishing grounds still used by the St’at’imc people to harvest salmon, and an archeological village site that was inhabited as recently as 200 years ago.

4 THOMPSON OKANAGAN

While the Okanagan Valley is home to British Columbia’s biggest wine region, fermented grapes aren’t the only beverage originating from these fertile lands. Vernon’s Cambium Cidery (formerly BX Press) is celebrating its apple orchard’s recent transition towards organic production, a newly launched restaurant and a full range of branch-tobottle artisan ciders. Today they grow more than two dozen varieties including modern dessert apples, nearly forgotten heritage cultivars and vintage cider fruit.

5. KOOTENAY ROCKIES

Rock climbing isn’t just for experts when there’s a via ferrata to help you along. Thrill seekers can experience North America’s longest via ferrata at CMH Bobbie Burns thanks to CMH Heli-hiking. Accessible only by helicopter, highlights include being nearly 2,000ft high while crossing a near 200ft long suspension bridge dangling off the summit of Mount Nimbus. After the adrenaline rush, finish the day with a gourmet meal at the Bobbie Burns Lodge.

6. YOHO AND KOOTENAY NATIONAL PARK

High in the mountains of Yoho and Kootenay National Park, the Burgess Shale fossils are some of the oldest evidence of complex life on Earth. These well-preserved fossils are now recognised as a key part of the Canadian Rocky Mountain National Parks UNESCO World Heritage Site and were recently added to the International Union of Geological Sciences (IUGS) list of the first 100 geological heritage sites of significance in the world.

7 GOLDEN

This town in British Columbia is a great base to explore six of Canada’s national parks including: Yoho, Glacier, Banff, Jasper, Kootenay and Mount Revelstoke National Parks. They all offer sensational hiking, jaw-dropping scenery and possible wildlife sightings including bears, elk and moose. However, if you’re looking for a real adrenalin fix, try a mountain coaster at Golden Skybridge! The 3,375ft Railrider Mountain Coaster is Canada’s largest and fastest mountain coaster with speeds up to 25 miles an hour.

8 ROSSLAND

The new 11-mile Mxiɬ p (Cedar) Trail in Rossland, named in consultation with the Sinixt people, honours their heritage. "Mxi p" means cedar in their language, referencing the towering cedars at the trail's start. Constructed to protect the environment, the trail was built over tree roots to avoid disturbing the land. This careful design reflects a commitment to sustainability and respect for Indigenous traditions, ensuring that the natural landscape remains preserved for future generations.

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

Vancouver is the international gateway to British Columbia with direct flights from the UK with British Airways, WestJet and Air Canada.

BEST TIME TO GO

The best time to travel along Rainforest to Rockies is in the spring and autumn. Enjoy the fruits of the Okanagan Valley during the autumn harvest season or visit in the spring for wildlife watching as the bears start to wake up from hibernation.

FOOD

Pair the Michelin-rated food in Vancouver and al-fresco dining in the Okanagan Valley with an Indigenous wine tour or a bottle of organic cider.

WHERE TO STAY

There are several places to stay along the Rainforest to Rockies routes, from luxury hotels in Vancouver and Whistler to boutique accommodation and cabins in the Thompson Okanagan and Kootenays.

HOW TO DO IT

Visitors can easily travel independently around BC by rail, air or car. Visit hellobc. com/rainforest-to-rockies.

Alternatively book your Rainforest to Rockies itinerary through tour operators such as My Canada Trips, Trailfinders or Bon Voyage.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Hiking boots and a light jacket.

WHY GO

British Columbia is home to a series of ever-changing landscapes, from the Pacific Coast rainforest and wild coastline to fertile valleys, arid desert and the mighty Canadian Rockies. Each new horizon is an invitation to discover hidden places and have unforgettable experiences on this “road trip of a lifetime”.

IN PARTNERSHIP WITH

NEXT DOOR THE

NO VISIT TO NAMIBIA WOULD BE COMPLETE WITHOUT A STOP IN ETOSHA NATIONAL PARK, BUT PHOEBE SMITH FINDS THAT A MORE INTIMATE WILDLIFE EXTRAVAGANZA CAN BE HAD JUST AROUND THE CORNER.

It is during breakfast that I witness my first kill; plumes of steam rising in caffeinated clouds from my coffee cup as the lions take down a young impala. I don’t even have my camera in hand – only a rather tasty buttermilk rusk. I stop eating and watch, mesmerised, as the young pride begins to feast on their own morning buffet.

“The lions are my favourite,” says my guide Frans Eiseb. “I’ve been working in the bush for 15 years, and got promoted to manager five years ago. But I quickly realised life in the office wasn’t for me. It was the lions that brought me back and allowed me to breathe again.”

As he finishes his sentence the largest of the lionesses turns and looks at me. They say that in a safari vehicle you are safe because you appear as one large unit, rather than individuals that would be easy to pick off. Yet she seems to stare right into my eyes, licking her lips. I shudder involuntarily – both with the chill of the early morning and the excitement of seeing such a raw, unedited sight, mere yards from my seat.

We stay for half an hour as they eat, play like kittens and rest. Then, when they’ve had their fill, without even a final glance at us, they disappear into the acacias.

“Right,” says Frans, “shall we go into Etosha then?”

It seems unbelievable that this – one of the most iconic safari scenes to be witnessed – has occurred without even stepping foot inside Namibia’s most famous national park. And without a single other Land Cruiser alongside us.

Mention Namibia to anyone, and they’ll ask if you are headed to Etosha. Home to an enormous salt pan, which measures 80 miles by 30 miles and covers a quarter of the place – so big that it’s said to be visible from outer space – its name comes from the Ovambo language and means the ‘Great White Place’. With its abundance of waterholes tempting four of the Big Five (elephants, lions, leopards and rhinos) to put in regular appearances, as well as 114 other mammals and 340 species of birds – all accessed by wellmaintained roads in often malaria-free comfort – it is unsurprisingly one of the most popular destinations in this southern African country.

And it is impressive – but busy. As we learn just an hour into our exploration when a traffic jam of more than ten cars builds up in both directions along the main road after a leopard is spotted in some bushes. We wait for a while before deciding to leave the

explaining the intricacies of the elephant’s diet by looking closely at its dung.

PREVIOUS SPREAD: Early morning lakeside view at Onguma Reserve.

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM THE TOP:

A female lion in the early morning light; Zebras and wildebeest at a watering hole in Onguma Reserve; Guide Frans Eiseb

hordes and head to a quiet waterside spot, where we see dazzles of zebra, confusions of wildebeest, herds of springbok and a journey of giraffes.

“Lions! Lions!” came the call from a passing sedan. “Someone’s seen lions!” they yell, coughing up dust as their tyres screech by. But we don’t move. After our big cat experience in neighbouring Onguma Reserve, we are content to enjoy this serene scene instead and leave the Etosha pride to the masses.

“All our guests want to visit Etosha of course,” Onguma’s manager Garry Roberts had told me when I’d arrived the night before. “But they very quickly see the magic that happens, right here, just next door.”

Dismissing his words as marketing speak, I had remained sceptical that a reserve could offer the same thrills as an official national park. But after a day of navigating the queuing traffic every time there was a Big Five sighting, staying in Onguma felt like

I’d accidentally stumbled upon a wildlife-watching hack. Its name (when translated from Herero) rather fittingly means ‘the place you don’t want to leave’, and I find myself longing to return to its peace and more intimate wildlife sightings.

So I stay, for four days, getting to know its different trails and landmarks. The story of the reserve

itself is inspiring. It’s a 130-square-mile patch of former farmland that over the past three decades has been steadily rewilded by conservation-focused owners. Invasive species and all internal fences have been painstakingly removed, and now it is home to the same wildlife as its celebrity neighbour – including the critically endangered black rhino.

CLOCKWISE FROM THE TOP LEFT: Phoebe spies a giraffe; A giraffe bends down to take a drink; An oryx in the long grass; A zebra; Watching a journey of giraffes.

THEN THE ANTELOPES ARRIVE –SPRINGBOK,

IMPALA AND GEMSBOK, FOLLOWED BY GIRAFFES WHO KNEEL COMEDICALLY TO TAKE A DRINK, EVER WATCHFUL OF THEIR SURROUNDINGS

“Just by coming here travellers are helping protect them,” says Jonathan – or Yona as everyone calls him – the reserve manager who heads up the Onguma Anti-Poaching Unit (APU), when I meet him early the next day. “Each guest pays a Rhino Levy – included in the room rate – without it, it would be impossible for us to operate.”

The APU has made a clear difference in Onguma. Since it was established in 2018, the number of rhinos killed by poachers has decreased from eight per year, to one and even none. Now the rhino population is actually growing. It’s a stat to be particularly proud of when there are only 6,500 black rhino left in the entire world (according to the International Rhino Foundation’s 2023 figures).

“It’s the horns the poachers are after,” explains Yona, as we circumnavigate a waterhole on foot, looking for trails. I gaze up a tree and see a wooden platform where Yona often sleeps to keep lookout. “Even though their horns are only made from keratin – the same stuff that is in our hair and nails – Chinese medicine places a high value on them and the problem is that the less rhinos there are the more valuable they become.”

Sneaking our way through some wild fig trees we stop to listen. But in the rising heat of the day, the black rhino elude us. As we decide to break for an early lunch, Yona tells me how raw rhino horn can be sold for $69,000 per kilo, and, if it’s been worked, up to $120,000 per kilo. In an African country like Namibia, with high levels of unemployment, it’s easy to see why an offer of upwards of $20,000 for a horn could be too tempting an offer to resist.

“That’s where Oshivelo Farm comes in,” explains Garry that afternoon when we head to the northeast of the reserve to visit the village that sits on its border. As we enter its boundaries, we are surrounded by rows of vegetable crops and teams of workers picking carrots.

CLOCKWISE FROM RIGHT:

Early morning at a watering hole in Onguma; Jonathan (Yona) from the Onguma Anti-Poaching Unit; Produce from Oshivelo Farm; Staff at Oshivelo Farm.

“Just over 3,000 people live in this town,” says Garry. “When the owners bought Onguma there were very little job opportunities in the local area, so poaching was a very attractive option.” By establishing the farm – and work – literally on the doorstep of their homes, Onguma managed to get the local people on side. “By giving them dignity, through a good job and quality of life, they are much less likely to turn to the short-term gain of poaching,” he says.

I chat to several of the workers – who are, unprompted, proud to explain what they do. The

manager leads me to their community shop, where vegetables ranging from carrots and beetroot to green peppers, cauliflower, onions and papayas are stacked high. It’s here that the ‘B’ grade fruit and veg – smaller size, ‘less attractive’, oddly shaped – is sold to locals (not just farm workers) at heavily discounted rates.

“It means people can feed their families a healthy diet with food that has super low food miles and costs much less,” says Garry.

Back at my accommodation, Camp Kala, the regenerative model continues.

LYING IN BED, THE

AIR IS FILLED WITH THE SOUNDS OF HYENAS DRINKING, WILDEBEEST CALLING TO ONE ANOTHER AND THE GENTLE PAD OF LIONS’ FEET SLINKING AROUND ON THE SAND

This four-suite property is one of the five offered in the reserve (ranging from the affordable Onguma Bush Camp to the Morocco-inspired The Fort where Will Smith stayed while filming Welcome to Earth back in 2021). It used to be a more rustic offering, but an electric fire during lockdown saw it decimated. So they decided to build it back better, with sustainability at its heart.

Single-use plastic is banned, all vegetables and most fruit comes from Oshivelo, bread is baked fresh daily on-site, and meat comes from a local supplier. Locally sourced, sustainable wood has created much of the furniture and walkways, and the walls are made from Onguma’s recycled and crushed wine and beer bottles, which blend beautifully into the surrounds thanks to their muted tones.

As architecturally impressive as it is, I am too taken with the view to pay it too much attention. All the

CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT:

A female lion in the early morning light; The interior of the luxury suite at Camp Kala; Hot tub and deck at Camp Kala; Dusk at Camp Kala.

rooms are located around a watering hole, meaning giraffes, warthogs and zebras are regular guests – to the point where it is hugely tempting to never leave at all. But I do – for there are several more tempting experiences to try.

Over the next couple of days, I go on myriad game drives at all hours – from dawn raids to see the animals waking up (or going to sleep) to enjoying sundowners in rugged and wild locations, each one somehow more outstanding than the last. When we aren’t rewarded with multiple lion sightings and the chance to sit so close to a feeding elephant I feel like we’re dining as a couple, Frans is teaching me about the bush itself, from pungent wild sage that can be used as an insect repellent, to the ‘worm cure tree’ (a type of Albizia), the bark of which hunter-gatherers once used as a medicine against parasites.

A highlight for me is spending time in the new photographic hide that sits at eye level with another small pocket of water. We arrive just as the sun is beginning to set and within minutes I start to notice the birds – the chirping violet wood hoopoe, tweeting plovers, the tiny Carp’s tit and the hookbilled Monteiro’s hornbill. Next, I spy a flash of a pink flamingo, followed by a great crested grebe.

Then the antelopes arrive – springbok, impala and gemsbok, followed by giraffe who kneel comedically to take a drink, ever watchful of their surroundings. Finally, excited litters of warthogs snort and snuffle at the ground, alongside tiny dik-diks – the world’s smallest antelope.

On my final night, I leave the convenience of a permanently open dining area – where the camp staff are on hand to (quite literally) cater for your every whim – and my personal balcony hot tub and plunge pool, and head out into the Onguma bush. Alone.

My bedroom tonight is not a traditional ‘room’ at all, but a converted split-level Dream Cruiser complete with a rooftop four-poster bed from where I can lie and watch – or, rather, listen to – the sounds of nature.

I start the evening sitting on a beanbag, with a glass of prosecco in hand, gazing at the smudge of the Milky Way that covers the inky night with a blaze of ivory. I am only ten minutes’ drive from Camp Kala, but feel a world away from everyone. But not everything.

Lying in bed, the air is filled with the sounds of hyenas drinking, wildebeest calling to one another and the gentle pad of lions’ feet slinking around on the sand. It is a truly wild night out.

My own personal soundscape safari ends the next morning. Frans arrives and, once more, hands me a cup of fresh coffee. Together we drive off into the bush, miles from the crowds of Etosha, with the lion’s share of this wild corner of Namibia waiting for us to explore.

The Dream Cruiser set up for a sleep-out in the bush.

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

Access to Etosha National Park and Onguma Nature Reserve in the north of Namibia is via Hosea Kutako International Airport (WDH), 25 miles east of Windhoek. It’s a 270-mile drive to Onguma, but the easiest way to reach it is by charter flight to the reserve’s own airstrip.

BEST TIME TO GO

If your focus is on game viewing, visit during the dry season between May and October.

FOOD

“Farm to Fork” produce, in partnership with Oshivelo Farm, is served at the lodges – and at bush breakfasts and boma dinners under the stars. Oshivelo Farm employs 150–180 local people year-round, 80% of whom are women, which rises to 280 during picking season, making eating on-site a way to give back to the community on many levels.

WHERE TO STAY

Onguma Safari Camps offers a choice of five safari lodges to suit all tastes and budgets: Onguma Camp Kala (great for couples and privacy); Onguma The Fort; Tented Camp; Forest Camp; and Bush Camp.

HOW TO DO IT

Carrier (carrier.co.uk) offers an Onguma package, with a night in Windhoek and four nights at the new Onguma Campa Kala, including the Onguma Dream Cruiser sleep-out experience, on a fully inclusive basis.

MUST-PACK ITEMS

Layers – nights can be cold but days are hot – and a good camera and binoculars. Remember that if using a charter flight you are limited by weight and must pack everything needed in a soft bag, so less is more.

WHY GO

Wildlife, wild landscapes and inspiring stories – all in a laid-back setting, where self-drive is safe and easy.

Photo Credits: Jan-Joost Snijders Onguma Reserve; Dreamstime; Phoebe Smith; Nadia Snijders; Claire Roadley; Camp Kala.

A modern-day PILGRIMAGE

JOINED TOGETHER BY A COMMUNION OF MEDIEVAL CHURCHES, ABBEY RUINS AND SPIRIT-LIFTING LAKES, WEST SWEDEN’S PILGRIM TRAILS MAKE FOR A SPECTACULAR OUTDOOR ADVENTURE, REGARDLESS OF YOUR BELIEFS, AS MIKE MACEACHERAN DISCOVERS.

PHOTOS BY JORDAN BANKS

Like an IKEA model bedroom abandoned to nature, the treetent campsite appeared to have every convenience.

Hoisted 5ft into the air, its green canvas walls shimmered in the late afternoon sunshine. Inside was a head torch and insect repellent beside a towel, unrolled sleeping bag and down pillow, while yards away an awning kitchen was set with a skillet, cutlery, condiments and basket larder for cooking on an unlit fire. Far from being scaled-back, it was an Instagram shot of rugged Swedish loveliness.

In autumn, hikers have the pilgrim trails, pastures and pewter waters of Vättlefjäll Nature Reserve to themselves. Mine was the only rucksack at the campsite and it felt like all of twilight was just for me. Down a rooted path richly scented with pine, the tent vanished from view and I bumbled along to catch

sunset on nearby Lake Björsjön, yet with a quickening sense of uncovering a time stood still.

On the mirror lake, mooring floats were attached to the shoreline from which to glide off; canoes on a rack, padlocked now, were a passport to adventure in summer, a time when visitors rarely find campgrounds empty of Fjällräven outdoor gear. But on this evening I stood bobbing on the pontoon, alone, listening to the slap-slap of plastic on inky water and contemplating my day’s walk through heather heaths. Just as well, perhaps, that I’d forgotten my swimming togs. A braver soul would have jumped right in — and going in naked with the frogs wasn’t really for me.

The Swedes do outdoor living better than most, so it’s little surprise Pevon Ecotourism, based out of Björsjöås Vildmark farm within Vättlefjäll Nature Reserve, is an out-and-out ode to the wilderness. It was set up by Peter and Yvonne Carlsson, who turned their backs on working in Gothenburg after years of

trying to trade phone calls and computers for the sound of the wind in the trees and real-life screen savers.

“There is so much freedom in this forest,” said Peter, who appeared as I lit the campfire for barbecuing my dinner — burgers made with lamb from a field not too far away. “We’re only a pixel on Google Maps, but there are bogs, mosses and wild woods everywhere, plus pine cones, Karl Johan mushrooms, apples and chestnuts. There’s so much diversity to discover.”

PREVIOUS SPREAD: Mike walks by a lake at Vättlefjäll Nature Reserve.

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Mike

cooks on the campfire; Peter and Yvonne Carlsson by the campfire; A burger made from local lamb cooks on the campfire; Mike’s hammock tent.

On Peter’s recommendation, I’d come to West Sweden to discover a part of the country few outsiders know. This is a lyrical nook of Scandinavia enveloped by woods; through these wild lands run a succession of ancient pilgrim trails that connect some of the country’s most historic sites and lakes. Last year, the ten-stage Pilgrim Path Göta älv from Gothenburg to Vänersborg was launched, and before that the threestage Pilgrimsleden from Falköping to Varnhem. I wanted a hiking break, not one with any spiritual overtones but a trek with a backstory, timeless sights and a wealth of animal life. Wilderness without any need for faith. I plotted several days of highlights, cherry-picking a handful of sections from each, from the heart of 400-year-old Gothenburg to my final destination, Lake Hornborga, in the west’s historic hinterland.

Day one began on Gothenburg’s medieval cobblestones, beneath the rocket-ship spire of Masthugg Church, which appears to shoot out of a hill overlooking Haga, a neighbourhood of sherbet-coloured houses and pretty streets. I didn’t know this when I first visited more than a decade ago, but the site is where Gothenburg began and the view across Göta älv, the dark river from which the city took its name, is the perfect curtain raiser for the first stage of the country’s newest pilgrim route.

My hiking guide Kenth Åkerman and I ducked inside the church and saw a nave ribbed like a sailing boat, with runeinscribed rafters, wooden chandeliers and chisel-cut pillars, a meaningful nod to Scandinavia’s history of ancient stave

churches. This was a house fit for a role in Disney’s Frozen, and it was undisturbed by any other visitor, an omen of the silence I’d find throughout the next few days.

Admittedly, I’m an atheist and reluctant churchgoer, so entering Masthugg felt like glimpsing someone else’s life. Where many feel the sense of collective communion, or centuries of euphoria and ache in their local parish church, I’ve always had an absence of feeling about them. There was no symbolic embrace for me here, but the church acts as a gateway to something else — it doubles as the official start of the Pilgrim Path Göta älv, with a booth filled with maps and handy information. A church pamphlet read that the seven traditional symbols of the pilgrim should be a tent, hat, boots and backpack, plus cleric’s staff, cape and cross. Reverence for the forest was my only motivation, so I was happy with plain old Primark gear.

“The idea of these trails has moved

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: One of the many churches in Gothenburg, as seen from the Pilgrim’s Path; Guide Kenth Åkerman; Masthugg Church, the start of the Pilgrim’s Path; The rooftops of Gothenburg, as seen from the Pilgrim’s Path; A Pilgrim’s Passport, stamped at various points along the way.

beyond religion in Sweden and there’s a broader church of people now interested in them,” said Kenth, passing me a fold-out map. “The sense is to walk a bit, consider history, meditate on the landscape. Then, of course, take a glass of wine and eat a kanelbullar — a sticky cinnamon bun.”

Backpacks shouldered, we then ghosted through the city for around eight miles, from a historic neo-Gothic church to a 17th-century garrison fort to an ancient artillery store to Gothenburg Cathedral, weaving through the streets almost invisible to everyone else. I was a poor reader of all of this history, however, and drawn more to Gothenburg’s other sights.

At hangar-like shellfish market Feskekörka, which translates as ‘fish church’, I found a different sort of faith among its fishmongers; it was the same over a crayfish on rye lunch at Saluhallen Market Hall. A short distance north was Postgatan, originally called Sillgatan (‘Herring Street’), which was once home to transatlantic shipping companies that took thousands of Swedes onto boats departing for America. I went on walking, just like those emigrants did more than a century ago.

The next day, now on my own but

THIS PAGE CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Kannelbullar, a sticky cinnamon bun; inside the Feskekörka, Gothenburg’s shellfish market; a bakery in Feskekörka.

OPPOSITE PAGE: A waterway in Vättlefjäll Nature Reserve.

in heavenly sunshine, a tram dropped me beyond the city limits, on the fringes of Vättlefjäll Nature Reserve. Centuries’ worth of coniferous forest and seven miles of heathlands matted in moss stretched out between me and my night’s tree-tent accommodation. Vättlefjäll is pristine and, as the hours passed, my pilgrimage proceeded step by step, in the company of cornflower-blue butterflies and soundtracked by the squeak and squidge of boot on bog. Deer flies, the little terrors of the Swedish forest, rose up in their thousands to greet me. I quickened my pace to a jog.

Despite such nuisances, what

makes Sweden such a joy for hikers is allemansrätten, the country’s right of public access. Nowhere is off-limits and the only payment is respect for nature and the creatures that live within it. In fact, it is one of the few countries in the world more accessible by foot than by road, and there is no more authentic way to discover its hidden lakes and wetlands. It’s also no coincidence that the Swedes venture into these woods to sit, learn, grow, dream and change by absorbing it all. Later that night, like them, I shared Lake Björsjön with just my fleeting thoughts.

If ever there was a landscape that cried out for a cave troll or a wizard with

a staff, it is the Sweden found landlocked between lakes Vättern and Vänern. The county’s first UNESCO geopark, the area is framed by more than a dozen table mountains, whose graphic, green-shaded summits signposted the way on my map the next afternoon.

I had moved further into West Sweden’s interior by bus and began my first stage on the Pilgrimsleden, seeing the layer-caked ridges of the Mösseberg on the trail ahead. Such arresting heights north of Falköping sum up the unrealised potential of this hiking route — it is a pick ’n‘ mix of the hill forts of Ancient Rome, the megalithic tombs of Neolithic England and the farm churches of the Middle Ages.

A few hours later, I paused at Gudhem Abbey for fika — that glorious Swedish human right to take coffee and cake at any time, without discrimination. Once a 12th-century Cistercian nunnery, Gudhem is now a potpourri of ruined arches, tombstones and tilting walls, with a memory grove built from the fallen stones of the convent.

Waiting was history guide Anki Rundquist, who I’d arranged to meet to help me piece together the abbey’s history and the wider story of the pilgrim routes that criss-cross her parish. From a basket, she produced home-baked chocolate muffins, apples harvested from her garden that morning and a Thermos of coffee. That’s Sweden — any hiker automatically becomes gripped by fika breaks.

“It’s funny to think that in the Middle Ages, pilgrims walked from this church

OPPOSITE PAGE: Gudhem Abbey in the late afternoon light.

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP: A grass-roofed hut in Lake Björsjön; Mike contemplates Lake Björsjön; Guide Anki Rundquist; A tram in Gothenburg.

all to the way to Trondheim in Norway,” said Anki, coffee in hand. “There was a guesthouse and nuns served food, wine and beer, making it a lively crossroads of pilgrimage.” As we ate and drank, Anki also said legend told of an underground passage connecting Gudhem to Varnhem Abbey, where the area’s congregation of Cistercian monks lived. It was a revelation to think a 12-mile secret tunnel had been dug by hand to cure their desires. An exhausting routine, surely.

As the sun arced to the west, I said goodbye to Anki and continued north towards Lake Hornborga. A few days hiking on the Pilgrimsleden offers scores of encounters with ecclesiastical history and stories of its clergy, but it also deals with the natural counterpoint: the wonder of a teeming wetland home to an Ark’s worth of birds. And one species in particular resets one’s expectation – by walking on water.

The largest flocks of black-necked grebes and black-headed gulls in Sweden congregate on this lake, but the star turn for armchair birders is the common crane that waltzes on the surface, oblivious to the close attentions of wildlife photographers. Some 21,000 cranes migrate to the area every spring and, from the stilted viewing platform at Trandansen, the lake’s shallows bristle with movement, with the waterfowl dancing back and forth with the fancy footwork and ballroom moves of a lineup of Strictly couples.

The cranes had already left for their wintering grounds in southern Europe when I arrived, but it dawned on me there were other benefits to visiting in low season. The lakeside felt untamed by tourism, while other species were still twirling on the lake, including migrating geese and ducks that shared the reedbeds. Similar to a pilgrim hiker, they too ate, drank and called to the heavens.

The track I followed from here to farmstead guesthouse Nästegården soon curved away from the wetlands, my shadow growing as tall as a giant. There was a feeling of secrecy among the trees, like there had been all week, and all that could be heard was a rustle underfoot and the last steps from this lesser-spotted, out-of-season pilgrim before I headed inside for a long hot shower and a cold beer.

THE LAKESIDE

FELT UNTAMED BY TOURISM, WHILE OTHER SPECIES WERE STILL TWIRLING ON THE LAKE, INCLUDING MIGRATING GEESE AND DUCKS

FROM THE TOP:

The viewing platform at Trandansen, by Lake Hornborga; Birds on Lake Hornborga.

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

Fly into GothenburgLandvetter Airport. The most sustainable way to get into the city from here is with Flygbussarna (20 minutes; flygbussarna.se) airport coaches.

BEST TIME TO GO

Spring and autumn offer quieter trails, with ideal hiking temperatures, affordable guesthouses and campsites. April and May see crane numbers peak on Lake Hornborga (hornborga.com).

FOOD

West Sweden is a compelling food destination, with shellfish galore, organic farmlands and fruit orchards. Try Lärjeåns Kök & Trädgårdar, a garden cafe that marks the start of Stage 3 on the Pilgrim Path Göta älv, and KDesign near Gudhem Abbey.

WHERE TO STAY

A tree tent in Vättlefjäll Nature Reserve can be booked with Pevon Ecotourism (pevonecoturism.com).

For Gudhem Abbey and Lake Hornborga, stay at Mössebergs Kurort in Falköping (mossebergskurort. se) and Nästegården (nastegarden.se).

HOW TO DO IT

Plan your hiking stages with help from Visit Gothenburg (goteborg. com) and West Sweden Tourist Board (vastsverige. com). The online portals for the Pilgrim Path Göta älv (pilgrimsledengotaalv.se) and Pilgrimsleden (vastsverige. com/en/falkoping/leder/ the-pilgrim-path-falkoping--varnhem) are great resources.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Insect repellent, a map, plenty of water and layered waterproof clothing.

WHY GO

For ecclesiastical history, outdoor adventure and wildlife on lesser-known trails, plus Swedish hospitality, fika and fairytale landscapes.

Mike MacEacheran was a guest of West Sweden and Gothenburg Tourist Boards.

KAV DADFAR DRIVES THE CABOT TRAIL ON CAPE BRETON ISLAND AND DISCOVERS THAT SLOWLY IS THE BEST WAY TO REALLY EXPERIENCE THE STAGGERING LANDSCAPE OF THIS COASTAL CORNER OF NOVA SCOTIA.

The rain was lashing down as I approached the causeway. I could see the droplets bouncing off the hood of the car and it felt as though the howling wind could sweep me into the sea as I crossed. A tropical storm was surging behind me, but as I drove onto Cape Breton Island the rain eased, the wind subsided and a sliver of sunshine seeped through the clouds.

The landscape that greeted me on Cape Breton – just off Canada’s Atlantic coast – felt much of a continuation of what I had seen on my 164-mile drive east from Nova Scotia’s capital, Halifax: forests that stretched as far as the eye could see, disrupted only by the occasional brightly coloured barn or pastel-coloured house. I was here in part to drive the Cabot Trail, a 186-mile route that winds through Cape Breton Highlands National Park in the far northwest of the island. The park is known as a place where ‘the mountains meet the sea’, with dense, towering balsam fir, white and black spruce forests, vertigo-inducing views and small coastal fishing villages, and the trail to be promised a thrilling

introduction to this magnificent landscape.

I headed first to the gateway to the trail, the small village of Baddeck, which sits on the shores of Bras d’Or Lake and is best known as the summer residence of Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone. Despite its name, Bras d’Or is in fact an inland sea, spanning 386 square miles and often – though not on the blustery day I was there – filled with small sailing boats and kayakers exploring its gently sloping coastline. A museum dedicated to Bell’s life sits on a hill, with

wide-angle views over the water. From the front patio, and despite the fog that encircled the village, I could just make out the peninsula curving around to my left, which eventually jutted back out onto the lake directly opposite me. In the distance was the faint outline of Beinn Bhreagh Hall, Bell’s summer home.

OPPOSITE PAGE: Baddeck

PREVIOUS SPREAD:

The Cabot Trail on the west coast of Cape Breton Island.

THIS PAGE CLOCKWISE FROM THE TOP: A house in Baddeck; Kidston Lighthouse seen from Baddeck pier; Blue Heron gift shop in Baddeck.

pier.

The museum itself is packed with an extensive collection of artefacts, documents and exhibits that highlight Bell’s diverse contributions to science and technology – far beyond his most famous invention. It was in fact here in Baddeck, in 1907, that Bell and his wife Mabel established the Aerial Experiment Association, which created four prototype aeroplanes – playing a pivotal role in aviation history – including the Silver Dart. Now on display here, the Silver Dart made its first flight – Canada’s first powered flight – across Bras d’Or Lake in February 1909. It wasn’t hard to see why Bell loved this village so much. Baddeck’s streets

are lined with colourful storefronts and appealing 19th-century buildings. It was easy, strolling along the main street, to imagine the countless stories that the buildings, with their weathered walls, must have been witness to. This was once a hub for European settlers, drawn here by its strategic location for trade and fishing, both of which, along with shipbuilding, created a thriving economy here in the 19th century. Even the fog wasn’t enough to dispel the striking views of the lake and of the vibrant green hills surrounding it, nor the constant soundtrack of lapping water and distant seagulls.

The next day I headed 50 miles north to Cape Smokey, to ride Atlantic Canada’s first and only gondola. In it, I slowly ascended 1,000ft up the mountain, the island gradually unfolding before me, a mosaic of different shades of green, disrupted occasionally by the first colours of autumn.

It took just a few minutes to reach the top of Cape Smokey, from where Cape Breton lay at my feet: the serpentine contours of the coastline against the deep blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean; the Cabot Trail weaving its way north, dipping in and out of forest; and 366-square-mile Cape Breton National Park – which I was due to enter shortly – with its vast blanket of trees occasionally rising to form rugged peaks with jagged silhouettes against the sky.

PAGE

CLOCKWISE

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP: Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site museum; Replica of the Silver Dart; Interior of the museum.

OPPOSITE

FROM THE TOP:

The view from the grounds of the Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site museum; Cape Smokey gondola; The view from the top of Cape Smokey.

THIS WAS ONCE A HUB FOR EUROPEAN SETTLERS, DRAWN HERE BY ITS STRATEGIC LOCATION FOR TRADE AND FISHING

Determined to experience the landscape from an alternative angle, on my third day I detoured off the Cabot Trail to make a short drive north to Bay Saint Lawrence. Here I boarded a 42ft Northumberland Strait-style boat with Oashan Whale Watch; built with a sharp bow that slices through the waves with ease, these boats are ideal to handle the open waters around Cape Breton Island.

Established in 1998, the company has been running whale-watching tours for over two decades. Captain Cyril Fraser started out as a fisherman but began running these trips when the cod stocks began to decline. A man with a quiet demeanour, he was clearly most comfortable at the helm of his boat; tourguide duties are given over to his youngest daughter, Cheryl, whose passion for the water was constantly apparent. "There is nowhere else I’d rather be," she told me. "We get to know not just these waters but also the whales, their characters and quirks, so they seem almost like pets."

I was still fumbling with my camera bag when Cheryl spotted the first whales. "There! Some pilot whales," she said. I looked into the distance, squinting and willing my eyes to focus on what Cheryl was pointing at, but all I could see was the

gentle waves of the ocean. Eventually I turned to my camera instead and zoomed in – there they were! Two pilot whale fins had broken through the surface of the water before more appeared. I counted at least six before they disappeared into the water. It was hard to fathom how Cheryl could have spotted these from so far away, with just her naked eye.

As we made our way closer to the pod, another pod suddenly appeared on the starboard side, just as quickly diving back under the boat and starting a game of hide and seek – much to my frustration as it made taking photos impossible.

I admitted defeat and set my camera down to just watch the jet-black whales shimmering in and out of the water as the boat gently bobbed up and down.

Breathtaking spectacle aside, there was a tinge of sadness when Cheryl shared that whale numbers have been fluctuating each year, with warming sea temperatures already affecting their migration patterns. Despite this, and the delicate balance of the marine ecosystem, Cheryl was optimistic that as long as her family, and others like them, can continue to educate people through their ethical whale-watching tours, they might just be able to prompt people to think about how

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP:

The Oshan Whale Watch boat; Pilot whales; The fog descending on the island.

OPPOSITE PAGE:

The pier used by Oshan Whale Watch tours.

EVEN THE FOG WASN’T ENOUGH TO DISPEL THE STRIKING VIEWS ACROSS THE LAKE AND OF THE VIBRANT GREEN HILLS THAT SURROUNDED

they can do their part to protect the planet.

Over the course of two hours, we slowly moved around the bay, following one pod and then another, with each sighting of fins and tails causing ripples of excitement on board. But the fog from the last couple of days was still stalking me, and I could see it slowly descending across the peaks of the island behind us,

creating a moody but magnificent view. As the sea became choppier and the rain heavier, Captain Fraser turned us back towards the land, away from the giants of the sea.

Back on the Cabot Trail, I made my way west, the road slowly climbing up, hemmed in by thick, towering forests on either side. Eastern white pine, red spruce,

balsam fir and black spruce filled the air with an earthy pine smell, occasional gaps between them displaying dizzying views of the forest rolling gently from peak to valley.

Once back at sea level, I passed the small community of Pleasant Bay, whose colourful wooden buildings – houses, restaurants and art galleries – provided

a contrast against the different shades of green that dominated this landscape, more than living up to its name. From here, I turned south, along the western coast of the island.

As the road started to climb again, the forest that had accompanied me for the last few miles began to give way and a staggering panoramic view of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence opened up. Pulling into the nearest viewpoint, I spotted Pleasant Bay again, its colourful buildings now little more than dots on the slopes, and the coastline curving away towards Phantom Point – the most northerly point of Cape Breton Island.

This was just the start of the seemingly endless viewpoints – each

PAGE CLOCKWISE FROM THE

LEFT, FROM THE TOP: One of the colourful buildings around Pleasant Bay; Whale tail sculpture in Pleasant Bay; The whalewatching tours office in Pleasant Bay.

OPPOSITE

TOP: The view of Pleasant Bay from the roadside viewpoint; Boats on the pier in Pleasant Bay; Gift shop in Pleasant Bay.

requiring me to stop and soak up my surroundings – as I wound my way along the twists and turns of the western coast of the Cabot Trail, with each new perspective attempting to outdo the previous one. Rugged cliffs rose dramatically from the edge of the ocean, their sheer faces glowing orange in the sunshine that now bathed the island, creating a striking contrast against the deep blue expanse of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. I spotted secluded coves and empty, expansive beaches, the ocean stretching on infinitely towards the horizon. The salty breeze carried a symphony of crashing waves and the calls of seabirds while the Cabot Trail shimmered in the sunlight as it snaked around the island, reminding me that I still had many miles to drive.

It was going to take a while to get to my destination, but that was okay: it was clear the only way to take this beautiful journey was slowly.

THIS SPREAD:

Various viewpoints and beaches seen on the Cabot Trail as it travels along the west coast of Cape Breton Island.

NEED TO KNOW GETTING THERE

Halifax, the capital of Nova Scotia, is served by daily flights by Air Canada from London Heathrow and seasonal flights with WestJet. Hire a car to reach Cape Breton Island, 226 miles west.

BEST TIME TO GO

Head here in autumn (September to October) for stunning foliage along the trail, or in early summer (May to June), which is quieter and perfect for birdwatching.

FOOD

As you might expect from an island in the Atlantic Ocean, fresh seafood like fish, scallops and oysters are sumptuous. Nova Scotia is particularly famous for its lobsters, as well as other dishes like seafood chowder.

WHERE TO STAY

Inverary Resort (inveraryresort. com) in Baddeck; Keltic Lodge (kelticlodge.ca) in Ingonish; Glenora Inn & Distillery (glenoradistillery. com) in Inverness, on the west coast.

HOW TO DO IT

The best way to explore the Cabot Trail is by car (or – for the superfit – by bike, which are available to hire on the island). Visit novascotia.com and travel.destinationcanada. com for more information.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Layers, including a waterproof jacket, as you can easily experience four seasons in one day.

WHY GO

Cape Breton Island offers a huge amount to see and do, from serene lakes and outdoor adventures to delicious food and a rich history – and above all, majestic, unforgettable scenery.

Kav Dadfar was a guest of Nova Scotia Tourism with flights provided by Destination Canada.

Photo Credits: Kav Dadfar; Dreamstime.

BEAUTY and the

FE A ST

VIBRANT SANTA FE IS UNDERGOING A FOOD REVOLUTION THAT ACKNOWLEDGES NEW MEXICO’S INDIGENOUS ROOTS AND INFLUENCE, WRITES SARAH RODRIGUES , AND ITS IMPACT IS BEING FELT ACROSS THE SOUTHERN STATE.

Do you know the way to Santa Fe? It shouldn’t be too hard to find: the road leading to the New Mexican capital blazes with neon, colourfully shouting ‘Wendy’s’, ‘Denny’s’ and ‘Taco Bell’ at growlystomached travellers, hazed in an intoxicating aroma of diesel and fried onions.

With its simple black-on-white script and stylised red feather, Manko couldn’t be more different, but the modesty of its signage is just the start of it. Manko (the word means ‘come and eat’ in Tewa, a Native American language spoken by some of the pueblo people north of Santa Fe) is no bricks-and-mortar establishment, still less a chain. Rather, it’s a food truck established by Chef Ray Naranjo in the period following Covid, and one that emphasises Indigenous food culture and ancestral knowledge.

With over 25 years in the industry, Ray is no stranger to the palates of local diners: a native of the nearby (30 minutes’ drive) Santa Clara Pueblo with Odawa tribe ancestry, he spent many years cooking in the kitchens of casinos, which, despite only being allowed on pueblo land, may be staffed by non-Indigenous Americans, many of whom frequently occupy higher-level jobs than their First Nations counterparts. The menus are generally along the lines of “pizza, burgers, fried chicken… you know,” says Ray, the shrug audible in his voice.

PREVIOUS SPREAD: New Mexico Museum of Art; One of Ray Naranjo’s dishes.

LEFT: Dishes from Ray Naranjo’s food truck.

OPPOSITE PAGE: Santa Fe Museum of Contemporary Native Arts

THEIR MONTH-LONG PROJECT, EATING ONLY WHAT THEIR PRECONTACT ANCESTORS WOULD HAVE EATEN, RESULTED IN SIGNIFICANT HEALTH IMPROVEMENTS

Ten years ago, Ray’s relationship with food changed significantly when, alongside his mother, he participated in The Pueblo Food Experience. This experiment was the brainchild of Roxanne Swentzell, an artist from Santa Clara Pueblo and the founder of Flowering Tree, a nonprofit permaculture institute with the aim of nurturing “healthy communities through practices based on Indigenous

ways of knowing.”

“I’ve been a seed saver and interested in how our ancestors lived for many years,” says Roxanne, “but it was only when my son, who is also a historian, had some medical issues that we looked seriously at harnessing ancient wisdom to restore his health.”

Their month-long project, eating only what their pre-contact ancestors would

have eaten, resulted in such significant health improvements for both mother and son that they decided to trial it in the broader pueblan community.

“We invited a group of 14 tribal people to try eating this way for three months,” says Roxanne. “We began with medical examinations which, in an age range from six to 60, revealed everything from heart disease and diabetes to obesity

and alcoholism.”

The experiment’s results were so impressive, healthwise, that “it proved to me that we’re like huge seeds,” says Roxanne. “When you align your body with your ancestral location through ancestral foods, you flourish.”

Several participants rejigged their diets permanently, choosing elk, rabbit, amaranth, corn, beans and squash over more readily available, highly processed foods, and the project took material, mouthwatering form in The Pueblo Food Experience Cookbook.

For Ray, the results seeped into his work. Over the next few years, he alchemised Indigenous flavours with the crowd-pleasers he’d spent the majority of his career creating.

“For me, it’s not about making dishes using solely pre-contact ingredients,” he says. “It’s more of a fusion, allowing Native foods to shine in meals instantly recognisable to customers.” Some of the staple dishes on his ever-changing menu include cactus tempura turkey sandwiches and buffalo green chile smash burgers.

New Mexico is the state with the third

largest number of Native Americans in the USA, yet this section of the population is more likely to be unemployed or in lowpaying, unskilled roles than their white peers. In the realm of hospitality, they’re more likely to be busboys than chefs.

When I first arrived in Santa Fe in the nineties, the beauty of its farolito-studded,

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: A selection of dishes from the Pueblo Food Experience; Native American vendors sell their craft in downtown Santa Fe; Dried grasshoppers served by Roxanne Swentzell as part of the Pueblo Food Experience.

flat-roofed adobe-style buildings against sunset-stained mountains wound its way around my heart and never let go. Yet even then, I wondered at the upmarket boutiques flanking the central historic plaza, staffed by well-heeled Westerners peddling Indigenous arts and crafts while, on the north side of the square, the people of Santa Fe’s surrounding pueblos laid out delicately crafted works of turquoise and silver on colourfully banded, handwoven blankets for tourists to haggle over. Local flavours – green chile, roasted corn – abounded at the already-iconic Coyote Cafe (still going strong today), presided over by Boston-born Chef Mark Miller, nicknamed “the founder of modern Southwestern cuisine”.

“My mother still remembers restaurants with signs declaring that Indians weren’t welcome,” says 45-yearold Ray. Even when his planned restaurant – in Espanola, a half-hour drive from Santa Fe – opens, his food truck will continue to operate in various sites in and around the capital, bringing the ‘come and eat’ mentality of Manko and Ray’s fusion cooking to all, whether Native American, Western, local or tourist.

So the tide is finally shifting. Roxanne’s experiment and Ray’s expertise

have inspired others across the state, including Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo’s Ryan Rainbird Taylor, whose indigenous soul-food offerings are available at his Yapopup food truck. In Albuquerque, Itality’s chef Tina Archuleta, of Jemez Pueblo, ‘decolonises diets’ with a plantbased menu and, like Roxanne, sees food as medicine for her people, but also as a foray into deliciousness for anyone with an open mind and palate.

Change has occurred on a larger scale, too. Last year, I stayed at Hotel Santa Fe, the only pueblo-owned tourist accommodation in the capital: the Picuris tribe declined the ‘offer’ of having a casino built on their land and instead are key players in every aspect of this hotel, from shareholding to decor and ambience, with earthy tones against which artworks by Native American artists weave colourful spells. In the lobby (where an unfathomable but intoxicating scent – is it pine? juniper? cedar and pinion? a combination of them all? –envelops you), guests can attend drop-in talks about local and Indigenous culture. Indigenous influences also, of course, take pride of place in the on-site Amaya restaurant, with dishes such as citrus-herbed elk medallions on the menu.

THIS PAGE FROM THE TOP: Coyote Cafe & Cantina; Produce at Santa Fe Farmers’ Market.

And cuisine is key, because food is so much more than what fills a hole in your belly. It’s what fills a hole in your ancestral heart, your local knowledge, your understanding of the place you’re visiting and of the people whose true home it is. Chef Josh Aragon, of Laguna

Pueblo, washed dishes for six years and is now sous-chef at Albuquerque’s Indian Pueblo Cultural Center’s Kitchen, where he’s introduced dishes such as elk chile and bison cabbage stew to the menu. Connecting with the people of his pueblo and their ancestral knowledge continues

ABOVE: The skyline of downtown Santa Fe at dusk.

to impact his cooking.

“The older folks always told me ‘cook with an open and loving heart,’” he says. “Never have anything on your mind that brings you down or worries you, because whatever you’re feeling goes into the food – and the people eating it will take in what

you’re feeling. So I always let my people here know that we’ve got to cook with happiness. Whatever we’re cooking, it has to be with a good heart and an open mind.”

NEED TO KNOW GETTING THERE

Various airlines fly from London to Santa Fe, with a connecting stop in another US city. Alternatively, fly into Albuquerque, from where Groome Transportation (groometransportation.com) offers a shuttle service to Santa Fe.

BEST TIME TO GO

The crowds of summer disperse after August, but the warmth remains – an advantage of a city with a dry, desert climate and around 300 sunny days each year.

FOOD

Don’t miss the chance to sample Ray Naranjo’s cooking for yourself at his food truck, Manko, in Espanola, just north of Santa Fe. In the city, head to the celebrated Coyote Cafe for local flavours.

WHERE TO STAY

As well as being the sole Indigenous-owned hotel in Santa Fe, Hotel Santa Fe is also within walking distance of all the New Mexican capital’s attractions. If you’d rather have your sundowners in the embrace of the city’s surrounding landscape, try the Four Seasons Resort Rancho Encantado, in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

HOW TO DO IT

Santa Fe is compact and lends itself well to onfoot exploration, but it’s worth hiring a car to visit the surrounding pueblos. Remember that photo-taking requires permission and that you need to be mindful of other culturally sensitive matters. Check indianpueblo. org for guidance.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Respectful curiosity for the oldest capital city in the US and room in your case for a shopping spree at Double Take (santafedoubletake. com).

WHY GO

Aside from the food and the landscape? Hundreds of galleries, spiritually significant churches and friendly locals with fascinating stories.

Photo Credits: Tourism Santa Fe; Ray Naranjo; Indian Pueblo Cultural Center

BEFORE

Winter is almost over. In a couple of weeks, the snow will melt and the rising temperatures will bring new life to the plains and forests of northern Mongolia. For the nomads and the Dukha reindeer herders living in this remote area, it’s a time to celebrate. Wearing their finest deel, a long coat in finely decorated satin fabric, people flock to the frozen blue waters of Lake Khövsgöl for the yearly Ice Festival. Over three days, visitors show off their skills in traditional games, such as anklebone shooting or Mongolian archery, while skilled sled drivers race their wooden chariots in fierce competitions.

PHOTO ESSAY BY LAURENT NILLES

PREVIOUS SPREAD:

Ice shooting (musun

is one of the traditional games played at the Ice Festival.

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT:

FOLLOWING SPREAD:

Even the youngest children dress in their best clothes for the

shugai)

Smoked fish is a local delicacy; Aitolkin, a young eagle huntress from Western Mongolia, visiting the festival; Horse-drawn sleds are a popular way to travel on the frozen waters of Lake Khuvsgul.

occasion.

CLOCKWISE FROM THE LEFT:

A fashionably dressed sled driver waits for customers; An ovoo (sacred shamanic monument) on a hilltop overlooking Lake Khövsgöl; Dalaikhaan, a famous eagle hunter, has travelled for more than three days to reach the festival from his home in the Altai mountains; Maximum concentration is needed to hit the targets in the anklebone shooting game.

THIS SPREAD CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT:

The ice is strong enough to carry even the popular Russian-made UAZ minibuses; The fabulous natural blue colours of the frozen lake; The Ice Festival also features an icesculpture competition, attracting talented artists from all over the country; Construction of ephemeral buildings out of ice blocks cut from the lake.

FOLLOWING SPREAD:

The area is home to the Dukha, Mongolia’s nomadic reindeer herders, of whom only 500 remain.

NEED TO KNOW GETTING THERE

Chinggis Khaan International Airport in Ulaanbaatar is Mongolia’s only international airport. Remote northern Mongolia is best reached by car, breaking up the journey at Amerbayasgalant monastery and possibly Murun. Don’t underestimate driving times!

BEST TIME TO GO

Most people visit in summer, but come at the end of winter to witness the white and blue landscapes of the Ice Festival, which usually takes place the first week of March, marking the timid beginning of spring.

FOOD

In winter, fresh food is scarce, so expect a meat- and dairyheavy diet. Local favourites are buuz (meat dumplings) and tsuivan (fried noodles). Tour operators can arrange vegetarian options with advance notice.

WHERE TO STAY

Traditional Mongolian gers, round nomad dwellings with a wood-burning stove in the centre, are the quintessential experience here.

HOW TO DO IT

Unless you’re fluent in Mongolian and/or selfsufficient, the best way to explore northern Mongolia is with a local guide.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Temperatures at night can dip to -25°C, so a high-quality polar sleeping bag is a true lifesaver. Of course, don’t forget to bring several layers of woollen clothing either.

WHY GO

The deep blue ice of frozen Lake Khövsgöl is a sight to behold. Add to this the unique culture of the Mongolian nomads, the ancient lifestyle of the Dukha reindeer herders and the fabulous untouched wintery landscapes, and you’ll never want to leave.

A PASSION FOR beauty AND opulence

SIMON URWIN GOES IN SEARCH OF PAKISTAN’S CULTURAL TREASURES ON A 1,200-MILE OVERLAND JOURNEY FROM KARACHI TO ISLAMABAD.

“We believe that many dead return to earth on Thursdays, while they wait in limbo for judgement day,” says cemetery keeper Mohammed Amand in a low voice cracked by a lifetime of smoking. “Those who did good deeds will come back on the holiest day of the week: Friday. Sinners never return though; they are locked in the fires of hell for eternity.”

Amand lights a cigarette, adjusts his turban, then leads me by the arm around the city of the dead he has watched over for more than 30 years: the Chaukhandi Tombs – an astonishing miniature Manhattan of sandstone monuments that stretches for over 740 acres on the outskirts of Pakistan’s capital, Karachi.

We wander the avenues lined with grand mausoleums, said to total some 4,000. Many are oblong pyramids that reach to shoulder height and are carved with intricate motifs: flowers and jewellery indicating the resting place of a woman; turbans, daggers and horses those of a man. “There are no possessions buried underground like the ancient Egyptians would do, just the bodies,” says Amand. “We never cremate either. Muslims learned that from the birds. When one dies, the flock will cover it in dust. It’s how we have cared for the deceased since the time of Adam and Hawwa [Eve].”

Amand tells me the stately tombs, dating back to between the 13th and

16th centuries, are the work of the Jokhio tribes – woodcarvers and stonemasons who served the Mughal emperors. “The Mughals loved decoration. You see their influence not just here but all over the country: the relics of a powerful and prosperous past, a passion for beauty and opulence in all things.”

My guide Amir Akram and I say goodbye and set off along a rough track to the junction with the main highway, where two men are manoeuvring old missile shells onto the grass outside a hardware shop to sell for scrap. Merging into the traffic, we begin our journey across Sindh province, its name derived from Sindhu, the Sanskrit word for the River Indus.

“The Indus has given birth to many great civilizations over thousands of years,” says Amir as we head in its direction, behind a truck carrying part of a wedding dowry – a pair of gold-trimmed bedroom wardrobes, a dining table and a garish sofa. “But just as the mighty Indus gives life, she also has the power to take it away.”

An hour later we pull up in Thatta, a once large and thriving city that fell into sharp decline after the river changed course in the early 18th century. In search of Thatta’s glorious past, we walk through a clattering souk, the parrots in the rosewood trees overhead adding to the cacophony, until we reach the Jamia Masjid. Built between 1644 and 1647 when Sindh was under Mughal control, the mosque was bestowed upon the city by Emperor Shah Jahan in return for the hospitality of its people. “Shah Jahan had a great love and talent for building,” says Amir. “He built the Great Mosque of Agra and the Taj Mahal. The mosque of Thatta [Jamia Masjid] is a masterpiece of a different kind – it contains the most elaborate display of tile work to be found anywhere on the subcontinent.”

PREVIOUS SPREAD: Badshahi Mosque in Lahore.

THIS PAGE CLOCKWISE FROM OPPOSITE: Arambagh Mosque in Karachi; The Chaukhandi Tombs; Mohatta Palace Museum, Karachi.

THE 93 DOMES TOGETHER CREATE A REMARKABLE ECHO, CAPABLE OF CARRYING PRAYERS

Inside, arched galleries frame a vast courtyard open to the sky that is exquisitely decorated with ceramic panels in radiant shades of blue and white. From here, it’s possible to look up at some of the structure’s 93 domes that together create a remarkable echo, capable of carrying whispered prayers from the mosque’s main chamber to every corner of the building. “It is a place of devotional beauty, not only for the eyes, but also the ears,” says Amir.

We continue northeast, switching between tarmac and potholed country road for more than 185 miles. Rural life unfolds around us at a languid pace in the shimmering heat: date palms are trimmed; sugar cane is juiced and boiled to make patties of sunshine-coloured gur – the local form of jaggery; a huddle of women carry dhal and flatbreads to field workers in the fading orange of the afternoon.

At 4.20am the next morning, I’m awoken by the muezzin’s wailing rendition of the Fajr – the dawn prayer – that reminds all listeners, via a whistling loudspeaker, that “prayer is better than sleep”. Amir and I set off after sunrise, crossing the border from Sindh into Punjab then veering off-road into the vast Cholistan Desert where hundreds of archaeological sites are scattered among the sand flats and thorn scrub. Some 60 miles from the city of Bahawalpur stands one of the most spectacular: Derawar Fort. One of a chain of forts built in the early 1700s to protect a key trading route into India, its 40 immense, swollen buttresses reach more than 98ft high, dwarfing an elegant marble mosque nearby that was modelled on the Moti Masjid of Delhi.

Outside the mosque I come across an elderly farmer resting on a wall by his long-lashed camel who is dripping head-

OPPOSITE PAGE FROM THE TOP: Flatbreads for sale by the side of a country road; Sugar cane being juiced for use in gur, the local form of

THIS PAGE: The exquisite architecture and tilework in Thatta’s Jamia Masjid.

jaggery.

I SPEND THE NEXT FEW DAYS GETTING LOST IN THE FALLEN SPLENDOUR OF LAHORE

to-hoof in garlands, ribbons and chains. “Trucks, buses, tuk-tuks and camels. In Pakistan we decorate them all to look like jewellery boxes,” says the old man. Amir pulls me aside to whisper. “In Bahawalpur, it is even said the ladies do the same to their private parts. They paint them with henna to make them look pretty.”

The next morning, we set out on the full-day’s drive to Lahore, the former capital of the Mughals under Emperor Akbar, in the late 16th century. The city’s centrepiece is the extravagant Badshahi Mosque, built in 1674 with red sandstone from Rajasthan and once the largest in the world. By its side sits the Lahore Fort, entered through Alamgiri Gate, its dimensions sufficiently grand enough to accommodate a team of elephants carrying the emperor and his household.

Old Lahore sprawls around the foot of these majestic buildings – a tangle of raucous alleyways where the Mughals once indulged in music, wine, steam baths and dancing girls. “Now it’s where men come for affordable grooming,” says Manaweer Hussain, a street barber. A customer duly arrives and Manaweer sets about tidying his feathery moustache. “A shave costs 50 rupees [15p]; a haircut is the same price, and I shave armpits for free,” he tells me. “In Muslim countries, men who pray never keep their underarm or pubic hair. It’s important for one’s purity.”

I spend the next few days getting lost in the fallen splendour of Lahore, where life is lived in pungent and technicolour plain view, from the snakeoil salesman dispensing his tinctures

of tarantula and cobra to the saffron merchants haggling over bags of Iranian Super Negin, considered the finest in the world. I spend hours watching the artists restoring the delicate floral frescoes of Masjid Wazir Khan. “It will take 15 years, but it’s an honour to make God’s home look beautiful,” one of them tells me. Then, come nightfall, I feast on deepfried river fish and stuffed parathas that fly off the griddle in the Anarkali Bazaar – named after the royal-court dancing girl ‘Pomegranate Blossom’ who Emperor Akbar ordered to be buried alive in a wall when he caught her exchanging a secret smile in a mirror with his son Jehangir.

Exhausted from the sensory overload, Amir and I strike out early one bright morning, quickly turning off the motorway to follow a looping road through citrus orchards into the mountains, the rock suddenly blushing peach and pinkish-red with rock salt. According to legend, it was Alexander the Great who first discovered the vast deposits of the Salt Range in 326 BCE when one of his army’s horses stopped in its tracks to

CLOCKWISE FROM

OPPOSITE PAGE:

Badshahi Mosque in Lahore; The old man and his garlanded camel outside the mosque; Wazir Khan Mosque in Lahore; The bustling streets and markets of Lahore; An outdoor barber in the backstreets of Lahore.

lick the ground. Mining of the salt – a vestige of the ancient sea that once covered the Indus plain – begun in earnest centuries later, and has been exploited commercially since at least the time of the Mughals.

A minor detour leads us to the small, scruffy town of Khewra where 25 miles of underground tunnels produce more than 400,000 tons of Himalayan pink salt a year, the great crystalline slabs then broken down with pickaxe and hammer by teams of men who line the roadside, before local wholesalers export them around the world – to health-food stores and Michelinstarred restaurants, even to grit the roads in the UK when the worst of winter bites.

We motor on, crossing into the province of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in Pakistan’s northwest, the border marked by the remains of the Dharmarajika Stupa, built to house bone fragments of the Buddha in the 2nd Century CE when the region was under the influence of Emperor Ashoka, an enthusiastic patron of Buddhism, long before the arrival of Islam.

As we hit the outskirts of the provincial capital, Peshawar, some 30 miles east of the Khyber Pass, a bewildering ticker tape of scenes flash by the side of the vehicle. At one set of traffic lights, two young boys can be seen

THIS SPREAD: Himalayan pink salt –a vestige of the ancient sea that once covered the Indus Plain – is mined from 25 miles of underground tunnels near the town of Khewra.

THIS SPREAD:

A truckstop on the outskirts of Peshawar where owners proudly decorate their vehicles with paint, mirrors, sequins and vinyl appliqué.

in a kite-fighting duel on the edge of a high rooftop. Suddenly an autorickshaw overloaded with marigolds rears into view on its way to a wedding, narrowly avoiding crashing into a stray donkey. Then, as we near the heart of the old city, we pass a truck yard alive with artisans who are decorating the frame of an old Bedford with an extraordinary rainbow cloak of

mirrors, sequins, vinyl appliqué and paint.

We pull up outside an old caravanserai on the edge of the Qissa Khwani or Storytellers’ Bazaar – both relics of this once vital trading post on the route linking Central Asia with India, where for centuries travellers and merchants would rest over a cup of qehwa (green tea served Peshawari-style with sugar and

cardamom), while professional storytellers entertained them with romantic poetry and tales of derring-do.

Today Qissa Khwani is home to the largest tea market in Pakistan, and I take a seat outside an old tea house, where Hakim Khan squats cross-legged in the window beside a steaming samovar. “Tea is the lifeblood of Peshawar,” he tells me

as a flurry of young servers whisk tiny enamelled teapots from his pouring post to tables fashioned from upturned milk crates. “It facilitates meeting, talking and debating, just as it has done for hundreds of years. Tea helps cement a sense of community. It makes us as one.” Khan waves away my rupees when I offer to pay for my fill of qehwa. “Mehmaan means respect and generosity towards guests,” he says with a smile. “This is the way of all Muslims. This is the way of Pakistan.”

Buzzing from the sugar, spice and caffeine, Amir and I drive out to Hayatabad in the city’s western suburbs, the closest to the Khyber Pass a foreigner is permitted to travel since it was sealed post-9/11. At the roadblock, the route to the fabled border

crossing with Afghanistan is obscured from view by a dust storm so dense it turns the street dogs and cart-pushing peddlers into vaporous silhouettes, and so we turn around.

I reach my final destination –Islamabad – a few hours later, just as the sun is dipping behind the soaring Shah Faisal Mosque, its sleek geometric angles modelled on a desert tent. Inside, the crowds swirl over a thousand strong and the air hums with their whispered recitations. Amir tells me he wants to offer a special prayer for my journey home. “The words are said to avoid mishaps by anyone who might be about to board a bus, take a flight or ride a donkey,” he explains, before clearing his throat to speak. “Allah

most merciful, I remember His honour and ask for His blessing for the journey that lies ahead,” he begins, softly. “Travel well Simon, my brother, and may God take care of you in only the very best way.”

FOLLOWING

THIS SPREAD: Qehwa – a Peshawari speciality made from green tea, cardamom and sugar – being made and drunk in the Storytellers Bazaar in Peshawar.

SPREAD: Shah Faisal Mosque in Islamabad.

INSIDE, THE CROWD SWIRLS OVER A THOUSAND STRONG AND THE AIR HUMS WITH THEIR WHISPERED RECITATIONS

NEED TO KNOW

GETTING THERE

Lahore, Islamabad and Karachi are all served by international flights.

BEST TIME TO GO

Avoid the monsoon months from July to September.

FOOD

Make sure you call in at a dhaba, Pakistan’s ubiquitous truck-driver pull-ups which serve simple food by the roadside. Dishes to look out for include nihari – slowcooked meat stew with bone marrow and pepper – and shahi tukra, a local bread pudding made with cream, pistachios and almonds.

WHERE TO STAY

Beach Luxury Hotel (Karachi); Pearl Continental (Lahore); Shelton Rezidor (Peshawar); Serena Islamabad (Islamabad)

HOW TO DO IT

Untamed Borders (untamedborders.com) arrange private and group trips across Pakistan including the overland journey from Karachi to Islamabad via Lahore and Peshawar.

MUST-PACK ITEM

Loose-fitting dress appropriate for a conservative Islamic country (for women, long-sleeved clothing that covers the shape of the body and a headscarf; for men, long trousers only, no shorts.) Carry paper copies of your e-visa, passport and international flight ticket.

WHY GO

Pakistan is one of travel’s sleeping giants – a country with a rich and vibrant cultural heritage and immense natural beauty, much of which remains untouched by the mainstream tourist trail. Here, hospitality is a way of life, and you are guaranteed one of the most generous welcomes anywhere in the world.

Simon Urwin travelled with Untamed Borders.

Photo Credits: Simon Urwin

Wild Frontiers has been running trips to Pakistan for over 25 years. In fact, we were founded by travel writer Jonny Bealby in the foothills of the Hindu Kush. Since then, we have sent hundreds of travellers to discover the beauty of Pakistan and meet the many friends we have made during more than two decades of offering trips to the region.

● Specialists in responsible, immersive travel to over 80 countries ● Small group tours (max size 12)

● Bespoke, tailor-made holidays ● Award-winning local guides and tour leaders

● Wanderlust Best Specialist Tour Operator Silver 2023 ● Expert advice and 24-hour emergency support

PAKISTAN

Hindu Kush Adventure

Group Tour | 15 days from £3,650

On this true adventure, you will experience warm hospitality and some of the most spectacular mountain scenery in the world. Immerse yourself in the culture of the Kalash, and drive over the Shandur Pass to one of the most beautiful places on earth, Hunza.

● Spend two nights with the Kalash people

● See the 7000-metre peaks in Karimabad

● Enjoy village walks around Ayun

● Witness the once off-limits Swat Valley

● Uncover the ancient kingdom of Chitral

● Visit the UNESCO Buddhist Stupa in Taxila

Journey Through The Indus Valley

Group Tour | 12 days from £3,360

Discover some of Pakistan’s most historic and exciting sites on this remarkable journey through the Indus Valley. Witness Sufi tombs and desert fortresses, bustling bazaars, and lively cities as you wind your way through the streets of Karachi and deep into the Punjab.

● Wander the alleyways of Lahore

● Tour the cosmopolitan city of Karachi

● Visit Makli Hill and Hyderabad

● Explore Multan, the City of the Sufis

● The closing of the gate ceremony

● Discover the imposing Derawar Fort

Group tour prices include all accommodation with all meals, guided excursions, and transfers.

JRNY