I have always been a nature person. Cities, for me, seem unnecessarily chaotic and at times, overwhelming. Nature, on the other hand, is simple, straightforward in its beauty and comes at no extra cost. There is nothing better than walking in the peacefulness of the mountains, around the calming sound of rocks and rivers, and having the front seat row to Mother Nature. Whenever I have a chance to disconnect from the world and go on a four-day trek in the mountain, I would do so with no hesitation.

I first discovered my love for hiking in 2014 in Nepal, when I decided to go hike the Annapurna Base Camp trail alone with no porter or guide. It was a huge endeavor for me since I never had any previous hiking experience and I never thought of myself as “outdoorsy”. Everything changed after that and now, I tremble with excitement every time I see a trail I could hike into the heart of the mountains.

After 6 years of traveling around the world from Peru to New Zealand, I have compiled a list of my top 10 hiking experience from around the world. The trails lengths range from 6 hours to 7 days, 1,000 meters to 4,700 meters high, and from a stroll to me dragging my feet to the top. Without further ado, let’s begin with my first trek ever.

1) Annapurna Base Camp Trek (Nepal)

Location: Pokhara, Nepal
Length: 7 – 10 days return
Highest Altitude: 14,107 feet
Distance: ~75 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

This was my first hike ever and it is still my favorite and most memorable out of all. The trail begins in the beautiful city by the lake with a view of the Himalayas, Pokhara. The trail is considered to be one of the most diverse in Nepal, even more so than the Everest Base Camp trail. You start walking through a lush green forest, going up and down valleys, crossing several massive suspension bridges and through the bamboo forest. Pace yourself past the avalanche-prone valley and eventually you will be surrounded by several 26,000-foot-high peaks of the Himalayas.

Nothing will make you feel accomplished and humbled at the same time as conquering the Annapurna Base Camp trail and still being towered by not one but several higher ones. It’s even more intimidating to know that one of the mountains surrounding you at the base camp, the Annapurna, is one of the least climbed and the deadliest out of all the 26,000-foot peaks with the highest fatality rate at 40.8%. That feeling of accomplishment will be with you for several months to come after.

2) Ala Kul Trek (Kyrgyzstan)

Location: Karakol, Kyrgyzstan
Length: 2 – 4 days return
Highest Altitude: 11,600 feet
Distance: ~33 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

For such a small off-the-beaten-path country, Kyrgyzstan has a lot to offer for nature lovers with stunning canyons, pristine alpine lakes and plenty of hiking trails, all tucked away in the unexplored mountain range of Central Asia. One of that trail is the Ala Kul trail, a two to four-day hike that starts from the city of Karakol. This route will take you through one of the most stunning forests rich with vegetation and wildlife, then you get to camp under the stars at Ala Kul Lake. The best way to end this three-day hiking trip is to make your way down to Altyn Arashan, where you can soak in a nice natural hot spring.

The highlight of this trek though, is the Ala Kul Lake. You will have to hike along the side of a mountain passing the lake to the 11,600-foot-high pass and from there, you will be rewarded with a panoramic view of this alpine lake and the mountains behind it.

3) Grand Balcon Sud and Lac Blanc Trails (France)

Location: Chamonix, France
Length: 8 – 10 hours return
Highest Altitude: 7,716 feet
Distance: ~9.3 miles
Difficulty: Moderate but Long

The French Alps offer hikers plenty of opportunities to get lost in nature for a few hours with several trails for both single and multi-day hikers. One of my favorite single-day hikes is a combination of the Grand Balcon Sud trail and the Lac Blanc trail. The Grand Balcon Sud trail will take you up and along the side of the mountain overlooking the city of Chamonix and Mont Blanc. Throughout the trail, you will be rewarded with the beautiful jagged peaks on your right and colorful vegetation and wildlife on your left. If you are lucky, you might be able to witness the Chamois like I did when I was hiking up the Grand Balcon Sud trail in the early morning.

Towards the end of the Grand Balcon Sud trail, you can continue on the Lac Blanc trail to see the White Lake where the magic of this trail is. If the weather is calm enough when you arrive at the lake, you will be rewarded with a perfect reflection of the French Alps on the lake. It was quite a sight to behold.

4) Santa Cruz Trek (Peru)

Location: Huaraz, Peru
Length: 3 – 4 days return
Highest Altitude: 15,583 feet
Distance: ~22.3 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

Huaraz in the north of Peru is one of my favorite places on Earth. I spent almost twoeeks alone in this city, exploring some of the best trails in the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. When people come to Peru, they always head for the south for the Inca trail and call it a day. What they don’t realize is that the true beauty of Peruvian mountains lies in the North, in Huaraz.

One of the treks I did was the Santa Cruz trek. I spent four days hiking in the solitude of the Cordillera Blanca mountain range through a beautiful canyon, stunning valleys and a pristine blue lake that serves as a great spot for camping. You will pass through one of the most beautiful scenery you will ever see in your life, sleep under the shadow of the towering Taulliraju mountain and be rewarded with a panoramic view of the mountain at its highest point of Punta Union Pass.

The experience of hiking this trail alone, carrying all my gear and food for four days, made it even more challenging and left me in awe for the rest of my trip in South America.

5) Routeburn Track (New Zealand)

Location: Te Anau, New Zealand
Length: 3 – 4 days return
Highest Altitude: 4,117 feet
Distance: ~20 miles
Difficulty: Easy

The Routeburn Track is one of New Zealand’s best great walks and for good reasons. The trail is located in the beautiful South Island starting near Te Anau and ends near Queenstown.

The trail will take you to the Key Summit on your first day, back down to sleep by the MacKenzie Lake, passing through the valley along the exposed Hollyford Face with expansive views over the Darran Mountains. Then it’s up to the Harris Saddle Shelter before coming down to Routeburn Falls Hut for your last night.

Your last day will be a casual walk down through the stunning beech forest, with a view of the Humboldt Mountains and ending at Routeburn Flats Hut. The Routeburn Track sure is an action-packed trail for you to do in New Zealand.

6) Tongariro Crossing (New Zealand)

Location: Lake Taupo, New Zealand
Length: 5 – 7 hrs return
Highest Altitude: 3,674 feet – 7,516 feet
Distance: ~ 12 miles
Difficulty: Easy to Moderate

Another great trail in New Zealand is the Tongariro Crossing trail, located in the North Island of the country near Lake Taupo. Like most trails in New Zealand, the Tongariro Crossing trail has a well-paced climb with casual walk up and steep parts all scattered throughout equally.

Starting from the Mangatepopo Valley, you will go through a series of gradual and steep climbs until you reach the saddle between Mount Tongariro and Mount Ngauruhoe. From here you can take a side trip like I did to go up Mount Ngauruhoe or to Mount Doom for Lord of the Rings fan. The trip will take two extra hours to do so but you will get a stunning view of the crossing in one whole swoop.

From the saddle, you will have to go through the South Crater before climbing again to the Red Crater. You will be able to see two lakes from up there, one in emerald green and the other in pristine blue. When you pass all the lakes, you will then have to zigzag your way past Ketetahi Shelter and down to the end of the trails.

The scenery is so diverse, it will have you thinking you were trekking for several days instead of five to seven hours.

7) Mount Rinjani (Indonesia)

Location: Lombok, Indonesia
Length: 2 – 4 days return
Highest Altitude: 12,224 feet
Distance: ~ 21 miles
Difficulty: Moderate to Hard

Possibly one of the toughest hikes I have ever done, not because of the trail itself but due to the condition I was in while doing the hike. Hiking while suffering from good poisoning is not an ideal situation, to say the least.

That said, it is one of the best hikes you can do in Southeast Asia and you will be rewarded with a view of a volcano on an island inside a mountain on another island. Yes, that is indeed what you will see from the 12,224-foot-high summit of Mt Rinjani. The view is definitely better at sunrise when the shadow of the Mt Rinjani will be slowly receding from the volcano.

You will spend four days climbing up the ridge of the volcano, sleep under the stars, wake up early for a push to the summit and then down to the lake before climbing up again to another ridge and down, ending your trip. There is nothing more painful and rewarding at the same time than to climb up a volcano on a forever falling volcanic ash and then get to see a volcano on an island in a volcano on an island.

8) The Schwarzsee and Hornlihutte Trails (Switzerland)

Location: Zermatt, Switzerland
Length: 8 – 10 hrs return
Highest Altitude: 1,695 feet
Distance: ~15 miles
Difficulty: Moderate but Long

This is a combination of two trails that will get you the closest to the famous Matterhorn peak in Zermatt, Switzerland. The first part of the trail starts from the city of Zermatt and as you follow your way up the gondola line, you will arrive at Schwarzsee Lake where you can rest, have coffee at the mountain hut and continue your way up to the Hornlihutte. This is the exact location where one of the first climbers set off for their first ascent on the famous mountain in 1865.

You will go through a small traditional village before climbing up through the forest out into the exposed area at the Schwarzsee Lake. The landscape will become more rugged and rocky as you make your way up to the Hornlihutte mountain hut. If you decided to take an alternate route back via the Glacier trail, you will also be able to admire the mountain from the bottom of the glacier looking up. That was quite a sight to behold.

At the end of the Glacier trail, you will arrive at the Trockener Steg Lake where you can see the Matterhorn’s east face reflected off a body of water. There is no better way to see the Matterhorn than to hike this trail.

9) Laguna de los Tres trail (Argentina)

Location: El Chalten, Argentina
Length: 7 – 11 hrs return or 2 days
Highest Altitude: 3,871 feet
Distance: ~7.7 miles
Difficulty: Easy

Of course,Patagonia has to be on the list, but maybe this might not be the trail you are expecting. There are plenty of hiking opportunities in Chilean and Argentinian Patagonia, but the one I like the most is the Laguna de los Tres trail on the Argentinian side, starting from the quiet town of El Chalten.

This trail is my favorite because unlike the Torres del Paine and W Trek in Chile, the experience of hiking the trail is not ruined by the massive crowds that come with the peak season and has been plaguing those trails. Laguna de los Tres trail is a little less crowded, but offers you a similar experience as the trail will take you up close to the 3 famous landmarks of Patagonia, Mount Fitz Roy, Aguja Poincenot and Cerro Torre.

The trail is relatively easy compared to the other ones listed here with the majority of the trail pretty flat with two steep climbs at the beginning and at the end. You will pass through beautiful native woodland along the side of a mountain, coming across vast glaciers, frozen lakes and a few granite spires. As you continue on, you will pass through two camps where the last camp, Campamento Poincenot, is where you can stay overnight should you decide to extend the trip to two days. If you do so, I would recommend you go up to the Laguna de Los Tres as early as you can for the sunrise.

At the end of the trail, you will be rewarded with a stunning view of the impressive cobalt blue lake and icebergs of Laguna de Los Tres in the background. Over the icebergs, look up and stare at the looming spires of Fitzroy and its neighbors in awe and realize how fortunate you are to be able to see such beauty with your own eyes.

10) Laguna 69 (Peru)

Location: Huaraz, Peru
Length: 6 hrs return
Highest Altitude: 15,000 feet
Distance: ~7.4 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

Last but not the least, we are back in Huaraz again for another of my favorite trail, the Laguna 69 trail. This time, it only requires a day to complete but you will be rewarded with such a diverse scenery and plenty of photogenic mountains that you might forget you are doing a day hike. The trail begins slowly climbing through the valleys with several steep climbs along the way. Halfway through the trail, you will find a great spot by an alpine lake for a lunch stop before continuing on through a vast grassland. Push through the small granite path and head in to the heart of the mountain, where you will find a pristine blue glacier lake tucked away in between snowy mountains.

The moment you start to approach the lake, you will see a bright blue color, like nothing you have ever seen in nature. That’s when you will realize that you have finally reach Laguna 69. There is no mistaking it, the technicolor from the melted glacier is out of this world.

***

Nature has a way of rewarding you if you try hard enough and that is what I feel about hiking. The harder you work for it, the more rewarding it is. The mountain tests you, makes you lose your ego and you humbly appreciate both your own physical condition and the wild beauty of the world. I encourage you to go out there, get your hands dirty and start climbing.

By Pete Rojwongsuriya /

Pete Rojwongsuriya is the founder of BucketListly.Blog, a place where he writes about his travel adventure and life stories he learned for the last 6 years on the road. He is also a travel filmmaker, photographer and a digital nomad, traveling from one country to another, making inspiring travel videos, taking stunning photos and telling a travel story of the world. His work in travel films has been featured on National Geographic, BBC, and Vimeo.

The post 10 Hiking Trails Around the World That Will Blow Your Mind appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

This far south, the stars seem like they could fall right out of the sky. Tug the blanket of blue holding them up and they’ll flutter down on our heads like snow. We sit—two Dutch, a kiwi, and an American—passing around a beer, looking up. The stars of the southern hemisphere are all new to me; I can’t find the arrangement of constellations I grew up learning the names of. The sky is a glowing, uncharted array with the Milky Way smeared on top like finger paint.

Liam points out the Southern Cross, a bright crux of four stars and a fifth that sits off-center like a freckle. Drawing a line from the top star down the longest axis points towards the South Pole. It’s the same constellation on the flag he stole from the top of city hall, the one that hangs on the wall of the flat. Sailors once used the crux to find their way, and the ancient Greeks charted it before it sank below their horizon in the precession of the equinoxes, but credit for its discovery is given to the Brazilians, who dubbed it “Las Guardas.” Now, I can’t un-see it. I can see the lights of the city-limits too, of Dunedin, my home, of the suburbia of flats with televisions and refrigerators and flags declaring whose land this is. The Polynesians came in their canoes around the year 1300, and the Europeans in the 1600s. I came in 2014, when the maps were fully drawn and the islands were a strange hybrid of enduring wilderness and human settlement.

New Zealand was once part of the supercontinent Gondwana, a land mass that’s split apart into Australia, South Africa, South America, India, and Antarctica. In the middle of the Cretaceous Period around 80 million years ago, New Zealand broke off from Gondwana and began its divergent evolution. In isolation, New Zealand bloomed into a biome of species known nowhere else in the world, including the Moa: huge, flightless birds hunted to extinction by the early peoples. Even without the Moa, New Zealand is biogeographically like its own continent. Alongside Madagascar, scientists describe the island chain as the closest we can come to observing continental-scale evolution in as extreme isolation, barring the discovery of higher life forms on another planet. There are no known living, endemic mammals in New Zealand besides bats and marine mammals, making birds the backbone of the islands’ indigenous wildlife. Of the roughly 245 species of birds found at the time of human discovery, 71% live nowhere else in the world.

Once without predators, many of these birds evolved to be flightless. New Zealanders chose the kiwi, a rare, nocturnal orb of feathers with a long and narrow beak, as their national symbol. It’s found on coins, billboards, souvenir T-shirts, and as the name of the people themselves. Kiwis: sometimes hard to figure out if one’s talking about a person, a bird, or a fruit. Kiwis eat kiwis and watch kiwis. Who’s doing what?

I saw one of these wee fellows in a nature preserve: a brown, feathery ball about the size of a chicken. It was sleeping.

“You won’t see a kiwi in the wild anymore,” we were told. The birds are monogamous, choosing mates that can last for as long as 20 years, but they lay only one egg per season, a monstrosity almost a third of the size of the female. The introduction of land mammals like cats, dogs, possums and rodents nearly wiped out these slow-breeding, flightless birds.

The different subspecies of kiwi range from vulnerable to critically endangered. And house cats aren’t just responsible for the loss of the kiwi. 37% of New Zealand’s bird populations are threatened, and countless have gone extinct. That isn’t to say that conservation efforts aren’t being undertaken: government groups and other independent organizations will pay up to $20 per possum. And you’re no true kiwi in favor of saving the kiwis if you don’t own at least one article of clothing made out of possum wool.

“Who wants to see some dolphins?” Liam suggests casually on a sunny day before classes have started.

“What, in the ocean?”

“Yeah, you can swim with them.”

I’m instantly sold. We pile into Liam’s station wagon: Liam driving, Jan the Danish backpacker in the front, my roommates Colin and Roos in the back, and another Dutch girl named Lon crammed next to me in the trunk. Lon and I exchange courtesies as our knees bump together and we drive out of Dunedin, heading south.

Liam has one CD in the car, a mix of oldies with a backstory I never learn. Neil Young croons “Heart of Gold” as Lon tells me about life in Holland. Her English is surprisingly good. The station wagon’s got one of those old trunk seats that have since been phased out as safety hazards, facing backwards and forcing our legs in to our chests. Folded up against each other, we watch the yellow lines speed out from under us and disappear into the notches in the verdant hills while Neil hums in the background. Lon nudges me and sighs audibly.

“You see, we never see anything like this in Holland! There are so many buildings and so many people.”

I can’t help but share her excitement. It’s in the place, the golden touch of sun that turns everything into a photograph, the harmonica warbling from cheap car speakers.

“Where do you go then, if you want to get away from the city?”

Lon shrugs. “Well, some people go to Germany. It’s not so far. But did you know they are trying to build a fake ski mountain in Holland?”

“What? How?”

“They are going to dump a lot of concrete into the ocean and make a mountain,” she says in her halting English, giving a chirping laugh. “But everything is fake in Holland.”

Liam’s CD makes a full round and is playing Neil Young again by the time we’re driving through the Catlins. Sparsely populated and uncultivated, the Catlins Coast is a wilderness area where visitors can find some of New Zealand’s rarest residents, whether in the temperate rainforest or along the rugged beaches. Jutting out into the Pacific, the Catlins are battered by storms in the winter months and have been the site of numerous shipwrecks. The giant swells are also a draw to fearless big-wave surfers who come with helmets, knee pads, elbow pads and a barrage of other gear to protect them from the teeth of the coast.

Liam pulls off the car into a dusty embankment on the edge of Porpoise Bay. A huge U-shaped inlet peeks at us from behind cattails and sea grasses. A blue sign bearing a picture of two dolphins describes the species as Hector’s dolphins, “one of the rarest and smallest marine dolphins in the world.”

Hector’s dolphin is another endemic species, and it teeters on the brink of survival. The New Zealand Department of Conservation estimates there are only 55 adults left in the wild. “Love us from a distance or lose us forever,” the sign warns visitors. We strip into our swimsuits, tossing clothing and bags and flip-flops back into the car. I can hear the breezy crash of the surf. “NEVER APPROACH A DOLPHIN,” the sign says. “Let them come to you.”

“We used to rent a beach house here for a few weeks in the summer,” Liam tells us as we walk towards the water. Sandflies scurry around my feet. The beach extends out forever in either direction, golden sand fading into soft green hills. It’s entirely empty, save for the specks of a couple and their dog a ways down. There are a few one-story huts planted in the dunes, cheery white and yellow with colored trim.

“Let’s go in,” Lon says breathlessly. We’re all thinking the same thing: holy shit. Dolphins. The water temperature can’t deter me this time, and I wade in resolutely while my skin prickles with goosebumps. I suck in a breath as a wave slaps my bare stomach, icy fingers pinching at my skin.

And then I see them: two shadows rippling beneath the water, flitting in little circles. They’re tiny, about as big as toddlers, with silvery-grey skin. As I wade towards the forms, they recede. But there are more, deeper; I spot the curve of grey backs surfacing and then disappearing again as if turning on an imaginary wheel. The dolphins cluster in groups of two or three, sometimes four, spotted by the puff of tiny blowholes or the glint of wet skin when they break the surface. Their motions remind me of Liam, though perhaps Liam got his lessons from watching the dolphins when he was younger. He’s got his flippers on again and motions for us to come deeper, at ease enough to be a marine mammal himself.

I wade out. My lower body feels like it’s gone completely numb, but the dolphins are closer now. I can see the bend of snouts beneath the water, the flat, half-moon shape of their tails, the nub-like fins that sprout from their backs. So close, I could reach out and brush their silk skin with my fingertips.

“Don’t try and touch them,” Liam says, as if reading my mind. “The oils from our hands will damage their skin.”

I don’t think I could if I tried. When my arm stretches out, dark shadows dart away with unimaginable speed, propelled by flippers more powerful than my clumsy limbs. They pop up again almost instantly here my eyes don’t even think to look, hovering around where the waves break, periodically shooting forward in a cloud of bubbles. I follow their lead, pointing my arms in front of my head and riding the surf. Compared to the dolphins I’ve got the grace of an inner tube, but I grin when we ride the same wave. One of the only pods of Hector’s dolphins in the world, and they’re hanging out with me, catching waves at my side. They don’t do it for any reason except pure fun. I laugh out loud from the sheer wonder of it, spitting out a mouthful of seawater.

I hear Lon shriek and I tear my eyes away from the dolphins.

“What’s that? Look over to the left!”

I follow her hand. It’s definitely not a dolphin trawling through the waves. It looks like someone’s dog swimming in the surf. Not a dog, I realize. Much too big. It’s the whiskered muzzle of a sea lion, huffing its way through the water. As it gets closer I can see just how big it is, a fat, blubbery mass of flesh that has none of the grace of the dolphins.

“Don’t get too close,” Liam calls sharply. “Bastard’ll charge you.”

This new intruder, along with the fact that I can’t feel my extremities, convinces me to take a break from the water. Teeth chattering, I stagger towards the shore and flop onto the hot sand. The sea lion decides he wants out too. He lugs himself out of the waves farther down the beach, rolling on his belly like a gleaming brown log.

In the water he had an odd kind of finesse, but out of it he looks like nothing more than a tubby pile of skin. The dolphins, meanwhile, become more comfortable with all intruders at a distance. They periodically jet into the air, flipping over and diving back beneath the water. The shows last no longer than a second, too quick to even catch on our cameras. It’s only the radiant grins of Lon and Roos that convince me I’ve really spotted the glistening corkscrew of fins. Like me, they’ve never seen anything like it.

It isn’t until the next day that we learn about the surfer who was mauled by a great white shark at Porpoise Bay not a week before. The shark reportedly swam up beneath the man, knocked him off his surfboard, and bit him three times before he made it back to shore. We look at each other nervously when we hear this and comment that it’s good we didn’t decide to go a few days earlier.

Shark attacks are uncommon in New Zealand, but not unheard of. It’s a risk understood by surfers down under. In Western Australia, where shark attacks are frequent, professional hunters have license to kill any of the big guys that wander into swimming beaches using baited drumlines. Thanks to human cullings, Great White populations are declining and they are considered “vulnerable.” But the powerful predators have a sinister allure, one of man’s last great enemies in the wild, or so we like to believe thanks to the Jaws industry.

There’s an uncomfortable paradox going on underwater. Kiwis and Australians see the sharks as both enemy and commodity. Shark baiting and cage diving is a growing industry. I met a Swedish backpacker whose dream it was to go on one of these “shark safaris” and stick his pinky finger out of the bars of the cage so he could later boast that it was bitten off by a Great White. “It would be fucking awesome,” he stressed in his guttural accent. But cage diving leads sharks to associate humans with prey, causing an increase in shark attacks, despite the fact that humans aren’t the natural pick for lunch. And the more attacks, the more cullings.

I scramble to catch up with Liam’s long stride, my boots digging furrows in the mud. The light of his headlamp bobs along further up the hill. Behind me, Roos has her cellphone held aloft like a torch, with Lon in close tow. I can hear the gurgling of a river to my right, though I can’t see it. It’s the Leith, the same river that runs through a murky canal on campus from where it starts as a dribble in the hills. We slog up a muddy trail that follows its bank. It’s almost midnight and the trail is completely empty. Surprising, since we’re not the only visitors who make this sort of trek in the dark. We’re here to see glow worms: Arachnocampa luminosa. Titiwai, to the Maori, meaning “reflected over water.”

We come to the place where the trail meets the river. I’ve had a few glasses of wine and my head is buzzing pleasantly. The stream parts around our crooked island, following the way of least resistance and gurgling on beyond my sight. Mossy walls rise up on either side of us, a little canyon crisscrossed by a lattice of vines. The walls drip with moisture, clods of damp mud pack into cracks from where ferns and little saplings emerge. A thick canopy of branches settles overhead like a gable, closing us in to this earthen cavern.

“Turn off all your lights,” Liam says, clicking off his headlamp. I shut mine off too, and Roos puts away her phone.

The darkness is overwhelming. I can’t see Liam or Roos’s silhouettes at all. They’ve completely disappeared. The boulder I’m leaning against is only accessible by touch. I wave a hand in front of my face, shocked that it, too, is invisible. The murmur of the stream seems louder now, amplified by the loss of my other senses. And then, like the white spots in one’s vision solidifying, lights begin to appear in the periphery. Yellow-bluish, clustered together, in every direction, but especially on either side of the river. If I didn’t know where the walls of the ravine stood, it’d appear they were floating in midair.

“They look like stars.” Roos’s voice floats out of the darkness, voicing my thoughts.

“Do you know why they glow?” Liam asks.

“Bioluminescence,” I begin, about to launch on a science diatribe. “They must have this chemical called luciferase—”

“It’s their poo,” Liam cuts me off, and then releases his high chuckle. It bounces lazily off the ravine walls. “Their shit glows.”

Glowing shit or not, it’s beautiful. The longer we stand in the darkness, the more lights seem to wink on. No matter how I try, my eyes can’t adjust to see anything but the little glowing worms, only now, hundreds of them. In truth, they aren’t worms at all, but the larvae of a fly known as a fungus gnat. I like them better as stars, or maybe as the Maori see them, as the reflection of stars on water.

“How about some real stars?” Liam asks.

“Got somewhere in mind?”

“Top of Signal Hill.”

We’re back in the car, speeding up a winding switchback. The road is gravel, and I bounce madly against my seat. Liam’s got the sunroof and all the windows open and the warm summer air floods the car, tugging my hair about my face in a windy cloud. From the front, Lon stands up impulsively, sticking her head out of the sunroof.

“Grab my feet!” she calls down to us. We anchor her, and she pushes the rest of her body from the waist up out of the car. With a shriek of delight, she thrusts her arms up into the night. Liam revs the ignition and Roos and I clutch Lon’s legs tighter to hold her down.

“Corner!” Liam shouts. We feel Lon’s body jerk as the car banks around the turn, but she stays put. She’s laughing loudly, a howling wild thing.

From Signal Hill’s bare crown, the Greater Dunedin Area unfurls. I can see the bright cluster of lights marking downtown, that ebb as they approach the city limits and then fade away into sleepy pastoral hills. Fog spills in from the ocean, painted pearly white by the moon. I can make out the flash of lighthouses as their flares revolve. Wind gusts relentlessly from the sea, that familiar, briny smell, and I zip my jacket tighter.

A huge satellite dish looms above, planted on three legs and tilted up towards the sky. Its curved belly is half moonlight, half shadow. Our car looks like a toy parked beneath it. Signal towers soar upwards, needle-shaped spires of trussed metal encasing narrow ladders that taunt the brave or foolish. I can hear the wind squeezing between them, like a gust of breath whistling between teeth.

We sit on the dirt in quiet contemplation, looking at the stars. Satellites trace lazy arcs, indistinguishable from the stars unless I pin my eye to one. I sip my beer. The Southern Cross is bright and obvious, winking between the other constellations. It’s an emblem of man’s presence here. As the Australians poem goes, “The English flag may flutter and wave / where the world-wide oceans toss / But the flag the Australian dies to save / is the flag of the Southern Cross.”

I take another swig of beer and let my lids fall heavy, so that the Southern Cross blurs into the rest of the stars and the satellites and I can’t tell any of them apart. Stars and satellites. Maybe they can coexist.

By Jackie Roberti
Jackie is based in Boston, currently working as a software engineer until the day her writing pays her bills. She spent several months working and studying in New Zealand and is eager to get back to the land down under, as well as the other couple hundred places on her traveling bucket list. In her free time she enjoys hiking, rock climbing, and snowboarding.

The post Wild Things Of The South Island appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

I know that it’s cliche to say (you know, given The Lord of the Rings), but is there anywhere else in the world that seems more unlike the world we know around us than New Zealand? With its otherworldly landscapes and dramatic terrain, it’s not a stretch to think that if we were forced to describe Earth to a visitor from another world, a short video of New Zealand would do our planet justice.

This video, The Waters of Greenstone, was shot around the South Island of New Zealand over a period of three weeks, and includes shots of Catlins Forest Park, Fiordland NP, Queenstown, Mount Aspiring NP, Mount Cook NP, Arthurs Pass NP and Castle Hill.

By Matt Stabile

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Matt Stabile is the founder and Editor-in-Chief of TheExpeditioner.com. You can read his writings, watch his travel videos, purchase the book he co-edited or contact him via email at any time at TheExpeditioner.com. (@TheExpeditioner)

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You might have heard there’s just a bit of rivalry between Australia and New Zealand — a fairly healthy spirit of antagonism and one-upmanship which permeates everything from sports to music. It’s okay. They don’t really hate each other. Well, not that much.

Today, we’re going to focus on one area where the competition is particularly fierce and ask: Who delivers the best skiing experience?

Uh, no-brainer, right? New Zealand surely has the best downhill snow-related thrills because of those incredible Middle Earth mountain peaks,  right? And isn’t Australia just a big, dry empty place surrounded by beaches?

Well, actually, the answer isn’t quite so clear cut.

Australian Skiing

Yes, that’s right, in case you’re unaware (and no, we don’t mean “Austria”), Australia offers snow and plenty of it just right for skiing.

The Australian states of New South Wales, Victoria and Tasmania all boast high-country areas that offer excellent ski conditions during the winter months. The biggest and best areas are extremely accessible, with Victoria’s Mount Buller a three-hour drive from Melbourne, while the major ski resorts of Thredbo and Perisher in New South Wales are only about six or seven hours drive from Sydney.

New Zealand Skiing

New Zealand is, of course, unquestionably an awesome skiing destination.

It ticks all the boxes: spectacular mountainous terrain, high latitude and a strong economy and tourist industry well equipped to deal with an influx of crazy thrill-seekers.

Skiing Quality Compared

Okay, let’s get down to business. Who has the most to offer?

Well, for the record, Australia actually has the largest commercial ski field in the Southern Hemisphere. Perisher, in the Snowy Mountains of New South Wales, boasts 3,076 acres of sweet, sweet skiing goodness. The ski resort of Thredbo, meanwhile, offers the longest run in either Australia or New Zealand at 3.7 miles.

By contrast, the largest commercial ski field in New Zealand is Mt Raupehu’s Whakapapa resort, which has a relatively small 1,259 acres.

The Kiwis, however, possess the longest vertical descent — 2,368 feet on the Turoa side of Mount Ruapehu.

Furthermore, the land-of-the-long-white-cloud definitely takes the lead in terms of snow fall. The Canterbury region of New Zealand’s Mount Hutt and the club fields of Craigieburn, Cheeseman and Broken River get an average snow of more than 13 feet a season, while Australian ski fields average about 10 feet. If deep, untracked powder is your thing, then New Zealand should be your choice.

Still, for those who stick mostly to groomed slopes, the quality won’t be all that dissimilar. There a lot of arguments flying back and forth across the Tasman Sea about which country deals the best ski quality for the average skier. The reality is that the the truth will differ from individual to individual, and from field to field.

However, beyond the commercial boundaries, New Zealand does offer some spectacular and challenging terrain, and the chance to enjoy something removed from the hustle and bustle of the resorts. Think Coronet Peak’s back bowls, Turoa’s glacier or Remarkable’s homeward bound.

New Zealand is also the place to go for one of the definitive snow-bound thrills: Heli-Skiing. For many, there’s no experience quite like being flown up a remote mountainside by chopper then left to ski down incredible pristine terrain. It’s one experience that is, as yet, unavailable in Australia.

However, Aussies can boast something the Kiwis can’t: Tree-skiing. While all of New Zealand skiing is above the tree line, Australian snow gums will remain in evidence even after heavy falls.

Accommodation and Facilities

Australia offers plenty of accommodation that is either on or extremely close to the slopes, providing a mountain village vibe that’s similar to the European experience. Thredbo and Perisher not only offer places to crash (overnight, we mean), but they are both very close to the town of Jindabyne, a town packed with accommodation.

In New Zealand, you generally have to drive up the mountains to get to your slopes, with places to stay limited to satellite towns and villages.

Head into a town like Queenstown or Wanaka and you’ll be likely to find yourself with a 30-minute ride in a car before you strap on the skis. Not to mention that the road from Queenstown to the Remarkables in the morning can be a hair-raising experience in and of itself.

On the flip-side, you then have a choice of several ski fields, and, of course, the scenery is, well, epic.

In terms of catering, it’s probably best to pack a lunch when you’re heading to a Kiwi ski-field. Aussie slopes generally cater better, where top-notch grub is available on the slopes and from the ski-in/ski-out villages.

Party Vibe and General Good Times

The ski-fields in Australia ably cater to those looking for what we can quaintly call “apres-ski” options. A town like Perisher offers scope for people to enjoy anything from a romantic dinner by candlelight, to a drink or two in a bar, or just the chance to dance until dawn in a nightclub.

However, for sheer unbridled nighttime thrills, then Queenstown — in New Zealand’s South Island — wins all the plaudits. It is all kinds of stunning. This lakeside town features over 100 restaurants and bars clustered together within a .6 square-mile area, which makes it a Mecca for those who like to ski by day and party by night.

It also has the added cache of a rather spectacular outlook, with views of the crystalline Lake Wakitipu and the Remarkables (a truly aptly-named mountain range). Plus, if you get sick of skiing, you’ve got so many other options, from bushwalking to bungee jumping.

The Verdict

Would it be slightly cowardly of us to draw a line in the snow and say it’s largely a personal choice as to which country offers the best skiing?

Australian ski resorts are excellent and fun destinations, especially for families and beginners. We definitely enjoy the ski-in, ski-out access from accommodations (and the bars) as well. In terms of cost, they are a relatively affordable option too, with a ski resort like Selwyn Snowfields offering budget package deals for families.

However, for the hardcore enthusiast, New Zealand is the unbeatable option with great snow and some stunning slopes — especially off the beaten track. When combined with the favorable exchange rate for most international visitors, New Zealand represents outstanding value for money as well as a great time.

By Richie Black

[Julia at top of Supertrail, Thredbo by Alpha via/Flickr; Looking West-ish from Coronet Peak by Yun Huang Yong/Flickr; Minus5 Ice Bar Queenstown by Adam Selwood/Flickr]

About the Author

Richie is a Sydney-based writer famed for his sophistication, flair and hair. He blogs his ass across a large number of websites, including Shlunk (Life Advice From the Experts), Sydney.com and VisitNSW. He is also a writer with credits for TV and the stage, notably The Local and The Cardboard Cartel (in which he also performed), both for the Sydney Festival.

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This stunning time-lapse video (I know, not another time-lapse, but stick with me here) was taken by videographer Bevan Percival while traveling in the North Island in New Zealand using his Canon 5D Mark II and Dynamic Perception Stage Zero 6ft Dolly. Instead of focusing on moving clouds and sunsets, Percival decided to focus on the unadulterated views of the cosmos from his perch in the South Pacific, which provided an unworldly light show unlike anything I’ve seen outside of that Lase Floyd: The Wall laser show I saw back in ’98.

[New Zealand Landscapes Timelapse Volume Two by Bevan Percival via/Vimeo]

By Matt Stabile

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Matt Stabile is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of The Expeditioner. The Expeditioner began in 2008 and is headquartered in New York City. You can read his writings, watch his travel videos or contact him at any time at TheExpeditioner.com. (@TheExpeditioner)

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This is real twitter.com/michaeltritter…

— michael-tritter (@michaeltritter) November 26, 2012

Ever kind of think that New Zealand is taking this whole Lord of the Rings thing too seriously?

First came the Air New Zealand The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey-themed airline safety video, complete with a Peter Jackson cameo, and now comes word of their new Middle Earth passport stamp. Yes, a government-sanctioned stamp signifying a country’s official seal of approval of your allowance into their country is now being used as a promotional tool for a fictional land that closely resembles New Zealand sheep country.

The above picture was tweeted by Michael Tritter, Senior Vice President of Interactive Marketing for Warner Brothers, upon his arrival in New Zealand. Though initially thought to simply be a publicity stunt — okay, definitely a publicity stunt — it turns out, via confirmation from Tritter, that a regular-old, boring New Zealand stamp is included in your passport as well.

Though having this stamp is fun in it of itself, the best part would have to be this: For the life of your passport, this stamp would ensure that you would be the winner in every bar contest where participants bet each other over who had the coolest and most exotic passport stamp.

(Feel free to work in your own Gandalf-inspired “You shall pass — customs” reference here.)

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I’m beginning to realize that if I wasn’t born in America, the good Lord would’ve sent me right down to New Zealand. Apparently, my fate drew the short straw (or would that be the long straw?). I say that because the more I read about the place, the more I’m sure I’d love it. Middle Earthen beauty, bad-ass accents, and the tendency to encourage one to bike from bar to bar. In fact, I’m tempted to don an accent and pedal to the bar this very minute. But it’s 7:37 a.m., maybe that’s too much.

However, it wouldn’t be too much if you happened to find yourself along New Zealand’s Clutha River. 150 years ago, you’d find yourself among 40,000 miners, frequenting the 42 bars and 3 opium dens — and that just in the town of Clyde. Today, the table dancers and drug-fueled evenings may be a thing of the past, but the action is still just as hot. Think spandex.

Reported by The Sydney Morning Herald, New Zealand’s Otago Rail Trail is the country’s first dedicated long-distance cycleway, paralleling the once “richest gold-bearing river in the world.” Using about 150 km of old railroad bed, the nearly 20,000 cyclists per year have created another gold rush of sorts. Seeing the effects of the trail on the area, the New Zealand government has begun construction on seven more routes that will crisscross the country.

And don’t worry, even though the old mining towns along the trail have started crumbling, the pubs have carried on.  After all, that’s how we cyclists roll.

[image by Rene’ V. Rosengren/flickr]

The post Cycling, Drinking, And New Zealand: Good, Good, And Good appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Lately, we’ve all been bombarded with silly airline promotions (see Ryanair, Ryanair, or Ryanair). This time, love is in the air, and the Kiwi’s are stepping up to the plate. Just recently, Air New Zealand announced a new “matchmaking flight” on selected overnight flights from L.A. to Auckland.

Festivities begin online, with their own social media website and pre-boarding airport party. Then, in between the champagne and rounds of speed dating, the crew might just break into dance (naturally, Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” is involved). Once in Auckland, you can try out some more brutal pick-up lines at the full scale mixer they will take you to. Sounds like a script idea for “The Hangover” writers.

Keep in mind, more than a quarter of New Zealand’s adult population is unmarried, and diamonds last forever, (ladies, who knows?). The first Matchmaking Flight sold out, but you can make a reservation here for about $780 round trip, which doesn’t include the cost of cleaning the mothball scent out of your suit coat (or the honeymoon, if things go well). Best of luck.

The post Are You Tired? Cuz You’ve Been Flying Through My Mind All Night appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

I won’t lie and say I’ve sat through the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. I know I should, but just haven’t yet. I have, however, seen just enough snippets of the movies to move New Zealand from my “check it out” list, to my “get your butt there” list, based solely on the scenery of Middle Earth.

As I assumed, with any place as beautiful as that, there are numerous well worn tracks zigzagging throughout the islands. Here, the guides at Active New Zealand, who have spent some serious time in the Kiwi backcountry, have generously put together a list of off the beaten track places to get you away from the throngs of people. Glaciers, valleys, peaks, and ridges, virtually all to yourself, simply for having the pleasure of getting your socks knocked off in relative privacy. How nice of them.

Also, if you’re a water person, this BootsnAll article, shows you seven lakes to visit when you spend some time on NZ’s south island. Each one looks to be well worth a visit.

Jaws… get ready to be dropped.

*Photo by Kiwinz

By Jon Wick

About the Author

Jon lives in Butte, Montana, spending most of his time on skis or bikes; sometimes both. He began travel writing while teaching in Korea and is currently pursuing his Master’s Degree in Technical Communication at Montana Tech. Jon has begun writing his first book, The Story of Will, whose movie rights are still (very) available. Catch more of Jon at TheJonWickproject.wordpress.com. (@ExpedJon)

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I know this is the second helicopter video I’ve featured this month, but how cool does this hiking trip on Fox Glacier on the south island of New Zealand look?

My only advice would be to avoid reading “Into Thin Air” up to a year before doing any sort of hiking trip that requires more skill than the average 10-year-old.

The post Hike Fox Glacier In New Zealand — Helicopter Required appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

This list of the “Top 10 Reasons To Hate Australia” comes from our new friends over at Tumbrella, a blog about backpacking Australia and New Zealand. As soon as I saw this list I couldn’t help but think of that running joke from “Flight of the Conchords” about New Zealanders’ supposed hatred of their Australian cousins.

It’s obviously quite tongue-in-cheek (there’s a link to the “Top 10 Reasons to Love Australia” at the bottom of the article). Other than being too hot and having too cheerful of people, they note the various animals that can cause serious injury as one travels the country:

“If skin cancer doesn’t get you, then it’s only a matter of time before a shark, snake, spider, crocodile, cassowary, dingo, jellyfish, stingray or angry camel does. This is one dangerous place. Stay inside.” I don’t know, this list kind of makes me want to go there.

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