We huddled in the dark in front of the laptop. Webcams pointed out across the vast frozen lake would pick up any sign of the aurora borealis before the human eye. Outside the temperature was several degrees below freezing and the snow was knee-deep. It was our sixth attempt at seeing the northern lights, and over the years we had blazed a trail of failure right across the Arctic Circle. Our hopes that night, from bitter experience, were not high.

Northern lights hunting has really taken off recently, ever since a BBC documentary starring Joanna Lumley aired a few years ago. At the very end, the lights finally reveal themselves to a tearful Lumley, fulfilling a lifelong dream. But it had never quite worked that way for us, and whenever anyone heard we were extending our fruitless search for another year, their response was never encouraging: “Everyone sees them, don’t they? Joanna Lumley did!”

Our first attempt was back in 2006, smack in the middle of a solar minimum. The lights are dependent upon sun spot activity throwing charged particles out into space. The aurora is caused by these particles ionising in the Earth’s atmosphere, releasing the incredible colors. The sun goes through cycles of more and less activity, and flares releasing the particles are both more likely and more intense during a solar maximum. The chances are best around an equinox, and the impact most impressive in areas with no light pollution and during a new moon.

We knew our chances were initially slim, but there was more to our quest than just the lights themselves. The Arctic Circle is a beguiling place. Just traveling in such a harsh environment and seeing how the locals unblinkingly get on with their lives while my hometown grinds to a halt under a smattering of snow is humbling. In the depths of winter the sun never rises, giving the few hours of daylight the constant orange glow of sunset around the horizon. The landscape is stunning, as pine tree after pine tree stretches into the distance. Other than enjoying long walks in the snow-bound forests of the far north, there are plenty of other activities to try.

On a beautifully clear night, we travelled by dog sled, shooting silently through the snow-laden trees in Europe’s last great wilderness. The huskies love to run, so much so that when we stopped they howled and strained at their harnesses, desperate to carry on. We braved temperatures of minus-30, and gazed up at the myriad patchwork of thousands upon thousands of stars through the clear night air. But there was no aurora, and unbelievably, for the next five years, this would remain the solitary clear night we would experience in the Arctic.

Although far less peaceful than a moonlight husky ride, snowmobiling remains one of the most exciting things I have ever done. Opening up the throttle, I experienced the thrill of speeding across a snow-covered frozen lake at 55 mph. While in a more athletic mood, I took a lesson in cross-country skiing, and spent the best part of three hours falling over. It is also possible to snowshoe and ice fish there. And in rally-mad Finland, you can even take an icy driving lesson.

But there are also more sedate pleasures, such as stretching out for a soak in Iceland’s thermal springs, and sipping beer in the most northerly brewery in the world. Ice hockey is an obsession, and while in Lulea we caught a Swedish Premier Division ice hockey match, whooping and cheering each crunching tackle with the locals. The Arctic Cathedral in Tromso and Reykjavik’s Cathedral are iconic buildings of both their countries and the region. UNESCO heritage-listed Gammelstad is a perfectly preserved traditional church town that is fascinating to wander around, and Iceland’s geysers and other natural wonders are incredible, even in pouring rain.

At Jukasjarvi we visited the world-famous ice hotel. The entire hotel is constructed from scratch each year and is always different. Each suite is decorated with hugely impressive ice sculptures and carvings, and you can even drink from an ice cup in the on-site ice bar. It costs hundreds of euros to sleep in an army-issue sleeping bag on a bed made of ice piled with reindeer skins, but its also possible to visit for a fraction of the price. But during all these other activities, we would always look up at a night sky shrouded in aurora-concealing cloud.

So there is far more to the Arctic Circle than just hunting the northern lights, but last year, as we embarked upon our sixth attempt, we still thought it was time we finally had some luck. However, based in the Swedish village of Porjus, the initial signs were not promising. We sat around an open fire holed up in a traditional Sami house during a blizzard, eating a traditional reindeer dish. And we sulked. Then, just before sunset, the clouds started to clear.

This time, we had technology on our side. From the comfort of our front room, we spotted a tell-tale glow on the web cam. We rushed to throw on layer upon layer of clothing, pulled on our snow boots and piled outside. The secluded lakeside location was perfect, as there was very little light pollution. As we watched, a pink-tinged hanging curtain of green light stretched out across the sky. Even if it hadn’t been the culmination of six years’ waiting, it was still breathtaking.

Eat that, Joanna Lumley.

For over an hour we stood in the cold, watching the green lights spread out across the sky and flutter in the solar wind. Unbelievably, a Singaporean wedding couple showed up, intent on taking their wedding photos under the lights. To see the bride stood there in only her wedding dress, knee-deep in snow, we decided that she would make a good wife.

No one could believe that we had tried and failed to see the lights five times previously, and of course it was great PR that our success finally occurred in little Porjus. So much so, that while we waited for our small, twin-propeller plane to fly us south again, a journalist showed up to interview us for the local paper.

The lights are a stunning sight, but seeing them only once is not enough, and come this equinox you will again find me straining to spot the green smudge on the horizon that just might herald their arrival.

By Alex Jones

[Northern Lights by Image Editor/Flickr]

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alex has globe-trotted through over seventy countries in the last decade in search of exciting and interesting challenges. En route, he has caught a train from Bristol to China, sailed 2,500 miles of the Amazon, and been crowned World Tuktuk Racing Champion in India. Alex is a firm believer that even if you are constrained by the commitments of real life, it doesn’t mean you can’t still have an adventure. After all, he’s an accountant.

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If you find yourself in Stockholm, Sweden, this summer (which lasts roughly 17 days beginning in late June), you may be able to catch a glimpse of a shipwreck from the 1600’s that has recently become visible in the water outside downtown Stockholm.

Thought to be of Danish origin, the boat was sunk in the water by the Swedes after successful sea battles to either serve as the foundation for a dock or perhaps as part of a land bridge between the many islands that make up the city.

Since then, it — and perhaps many others — has remained mostly underwater and out of sight for hundreds of years until now as historically low water levels (thanks global warming!) have begun to reveal the city’s hidden treasures. In fact, researches in Sweden suspect there may be upwards of 50 such ships in the bay just waiting to be discovered.

If you haven’t yet, now’s the time to get your PADI certification and test out your coldwater diving skills — who knows how much longer these artifacts will remain hidden.

Here’s another shot of the shipwreck via Flickr user Maria_Globetrotter.

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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The chances you’re going to have any run-ins while visiting Sweden with any brooding, teenage vampires; maniacal, neo-fascist manufacturing magnates; or new fathers displeased with their forced 60-day paternity leaves are probably slim to none (sorry).

However, if you’re looking to explore some of the sites around Stockholm and the rest of the country made famous by Larsson’s Millennium trilogy, Let the Right One In or any of the countless books that make up the Swedish crime fiction genre, then you should check out the newly launched site SwedenBeyond.com. If you’re simply on the lookout for some new fathers sans a care in the world, head to any Stockholm neighborhood cafe during a mid-week afternoon and you should be in luck.

SwedenBeyond.com is a joint venture by the Embassy of Sweden, Consulate General of Sweden in NYC & VisitSweden, and seeks to capitalize on the world’s seemingly endless fascination with all things Sweden by providing videos, articles and tips on where to indulge your interest in Swedish culture. The site includes links to where you can find many of the sites name-checked in the Millennium trilogy, ideas on boning up on your Swedish fiction reading and a contest where you can win a trip for two to Stockholm including airfare and accommodations.

The site also features video interviews with people involved in the film production of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (above), and a section that attempts to set the record straight on issues like the Swedish welfare system, Bergmanesque melancholia, parental leave and male feminists. (Don’t pretend like you know anything about any of those topics.)

As Public Diplomacy and Press Counselor Gabriella Augustsson at the Embassy of Sweden notes, “It’s a unique site that explores the image of Sweden depicted in crime fiction, whether it be film or literature. If you’re a fan of Stieg Larsson, then Åsa Larsson, Henning Mankell and Camilla Läckberg are other major Swedish crime novelists to investigate.”

For more information check out SwedenBeyond.com or talk to my neighbors.

The post How To Indulge Your Inner Sweden (You Know You Have One) appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Let’s be honest, what’s not to love about Sweden? The place that gave us the infamous bikini team, has now designated its first National Marine park, just so they could have a place to frolic. Well, a guy can dream, right?

Kosterhavet National Marine Park is found in the Koster Islands, between Sweden and Norway, and the most westerly inhabited islands in Sweden. You can reach the park by boat from Strömstad, Sweden (pictured above).

The Guardian offers up an in-depth view on the park, discovering its nearly stress free lifestyle, and even better activities. From scuba diving, to hiking, sea kayaking, and crayfish safaris, the almost carless islands offer just about anything an outdoorist could imagine. Long standing as nature reserves, the islands got bolstered into national park status due to the over 6,000 different marine species calling it home.

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One of the lessons that comes from extensive travel is this: People are creative…and weird.

Just have a look at Nerdabout’s photo essay of the Top 10 Coolest Statues in the World to see what I’m talking about. You gotta love the artistic flair these unexpected monuments can add to your trip. And then, you gotta take a step back and scratch your head.

Random index finger emerging from the water in Stockholm doesn’t do it for you? What about Budapest’s melting cow popsicle or the shark crashed into the roof of a building in Oxford?

Seriously, check out the link.

* Photo by Metro Centric

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Riksgransen, located in northern Sweden (and by northern Sweden I’m talking barely outside the Arctic Circle northern Sweden) is famed in the ski world as ” . . . a bit of a legendary place for the Swedes,” or for that matter, the world over, for both its extreme setting as well as one of the few places you can ski past midnight while the sun is still shining (and I thought it was cool to sit at a bar and drink a beer under the midnight sun in Sweden).

By plane, expect a 1.5-hour flight, or for the truly masochistic, cozy up with 5 ski bum strangers and take the 18-hour train north, where I’d recommend you bring along a large reserve of Schnapps and plenty of reindeer embroidered pullovers for the frigid ride north.

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Enjoying the high life in Gothenburg, Sweden’s second largest city, without breaking the bank takes a little discipline and a lot of imagination.

By Matt Stabile

There’s no doubt about it: I had traveled to Gothenburg in first class; once I got there it was back to reality. I’d just arrived from Stockholm on the X2000, Sweden’s high-speed train that reaches speeds of up to 125mph (200km/h) and ferries travelers between the two cities in a mere three hours. The downside is that the ticket costs about as much a discount airline ticket; the upside is that you’ll feel like you’re flying first-class. A few hours before, after helping myself to a glass of fresh juice and some fresh fruit from the á la carte kiosk, I settled into my plush, la-z-boy-sized chair, rolled it back to a comfy 45-degree angle, and watched out the window as the lush, green Swedish countryside quickly passed me by as I zoomed south to Gothenburg.

It’s these moments of travel that I look forward to the most: those rare moments during your trip, usually on your way from someplace to somewhere else, when you’ve got nothing better to do than to just sit back, relax, and replay the events of the last few days in you head. This usually happens after a hectic spurt of activity — in my case a couple of days running around Stockholm seeing the sights by day and heading out afterward to enjoy the nightlife, followed by an overnight ferry to Tallinn, Estonia, then back again.

In those past 96 hours I’d pretty much utilized every form of transportation that doesn’t involve a four-legged animal — plane, bus, taxi, subway, ferry, ocean liner — but I have to say there’s probably nothing better than traveling by train. I realize it’s a cliché, but there’s some sort of aura around train travel that allows you to imagine that for a brief period of time, you’ve transported back to a bygone era when travel was slow, methodical, and unbureaucratic — a time before cramped airplanes, hectic terminals, and dirty buses. Like almost nowhere else, its feels natural on a train to sit by yourself and write in your notebook or to stare out the window and listen to the rhythmic thudding of the wheels on the track while thinking about life. Conversely, on a bus the only people you’ll see writing furiously in a notebook or staring out the window in deep thought are usually accompanied by a member of the psychiatric community.

The pale, grey sky near Stockholm had turned a menacingly charcoal color when I arrived in Gothenburg. I strapped on my oversized backpack, took one last look at what would probably be my most comfortable mode of transportation for the rest of the trip, and ventured out into the heavy downpour. I read that the hostel that I was hoping to stay in was roughly 10 minutes from the train station and was accessible via Gothenburg’s main form of transport, the streetcar. Called the Tram, Gothenburg’s light rail system is the largest in Northern Europe — a fact that became all too apparent to me as I looked at the train map with its technicolor jumble of squiggly lines and impossibly long station names like Medicinaregaten and Sahlgrenska Huvudentre. Naturally, I hopped on the first one that would get me out of the rain. Somehow, I miraculously managed to find my way to within a couple stops of the hostel where I was able to hike it the rest of the way.

The next morning the rain had stopped but there was still no sign of the sun. Gothenburg’s protected location on a river close to the North Sea has played a big part in the city’s maritime past both strategically as well as commercially, but it also means thatthe city gets a mean cold breeze that blows in from the bay. Why did I bring only short-sleeve shirts on this trip and why had I not come in late July instead?

I meandered around the pedestrian-only streets that make up a bulk of downtown, ducking occasionally into a one of the many stores there to warm up, then I headed to the water’s edge to the Gothenburg Maritime Museum, a flotilla of anchored boats that claims the title of the world’s largest floating ship museum (how many are there anyways?). Here you’re given free reign to roam around its many boats and to delve into the hulls of old fishing boats and various de-commissioned remnants of the Swedish navy including a mid-sized destroyer and even an old U-boat. Note to professional basketball players and/or most of the population of Scandinavia: despite my lack of height, even I bumped my head not once but twice in its narrow passageways — you’ve been warned.

Nearby is the Gothenburg Opera House, a behemoth of a structure that seats up to 1,300 people and is large enough to house the opera’s 2,000-plus staff working on everything from building sets, sewing costumes, and selling ticket subscriptions. Finished in 1994, the building was designed with a nautical motif in mind, including an interior design that curves inwards like the hull of a boat and pinewood flooring meant to resemble a ship’s deck. When I arrived I joined a tour that had just begun. “Does anyone speak English in this group?” the guide asked the assembled group shortly after I joined. I sheepishly raised my hand, reluctant to admit my American ignorance of foreign languages. “It’s no problem, I’ll say everything in both Swedish and English,” he said accommodatingly.

“No, don’t worry about it,” I replied. “It’s fine.”

“Really, it’s no problem,” he insisted.

Well okay then, that’s nice of him, I thought — although I did feel bad holding everyone else back. It turned out to really not be too much of a problem. The tour went something like this:

Tour Guide, pointing to the stage from our view from the upper balcony: “Speaks in Swedish for 4-5 minutes, gesturing theatrically and eliciting the occasional laugh from his captive audience.”

Me: smiling and nodding occasionally as if I knew what was going on.

Tour Guide, after pointing the rest of the group to their next destination, turning to me, the lone Gringo: “As you can see, this is the stage.” Long pause followed by an even longer deep breath as he searches for his next sentence. “There are many lights above it . . . and the auditorium can hold approximately 1,300 people.” He continues looking at me, blinking his eyes a few times, then a smile emerges. “Now let’s move on to the backstage.”

That evening I met up with a friend who grew up in Gothenburg and we headed out to Linnégatan, the popular avenue stretching from the edge of downtown through the posh neighborhood of Olivedal. Along this street are some of the city’s best restaurants and bars and this area is also a hot destination for nightlife, especially when the 50,000 or so students attending the University of Gothenburg come back to school in the fall. We had dinner at La Sombrita, a tapas restaurant with a large selection of Spanish wine and a heated patio in the front for those cool June nights, then we wandered further down the street, stopping into various pubs along the way.

I’m the first to admit that I’m not much of an outdoorsy traveler, but I’ll make a concession if that piece of wildlife happens to be plopped in the center of a large metropolis — Central Park for example — or in Gothenburg’s case, Slottskogen, the sprawling park just minutes from Olivedal. Early the next morning, after a short stroll on one of the many nature trails in the park, I headed to the center of the park where there’s a zoo designed to resemble the northern countryside of Sweden. A stroll around the grounds allows you to observe such various specimens of wildlife including elk, reindeer, moose, as well as hordes of wandering school children taunting said elk, reindeer and moose.

To make up for the punishment that I was giving my feet, I decided to give them a rest by taking one of the many boat cruises that travel through the city’s canals and out into the harbor to the giant shipyards that once fueled Gothenburg’s economy before the industry moved out in the late 1970’s. Once out into the bay, I spent most of the ride shielding myself from the constant splash of the waves by hiding behind a group of German tourists, while occasionally popping up to record some video footage for the site. I think that I’ve experienced enough of the outdoors for one day, I thought to myself as I wiped water off my sunglasses.

I met up with my friend again that night and we headed to the eastern part of town to Heaven 23, the stylish restaurant/skybar atop the 23rd floor of the Gothenburg Convention Center which looks out over Scandinavia’s largest amusement park, Liseberg, as well as over the rest of the city. The bar was crowded with a mix of well-dressed 20-somethings and groups of businessmen and women. We ordered the restaurant’s signature dish, a traditional salad that comes out piled high with succulent, fresh shrimp. “You know, this is quite luxurious of us to be eating an expensive shrimp salad for dinner,” my friend said, popping one of the oversized shrimp in her mouth.

“I know,” I responded, thinking about my quickly diminishing bank account. “I think I’m going to have to save money and take the normal train for the rest of my trip.” The good times had to end sometime, I thought. At least I’ll always have the X2000.

The post Livin’ The High Life In Gothenburg Before Reality Sets In appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Sweden’s long summer days and cool nights out makes it one of the best places to visit in Europe come the longest day of the year.

By Matt Stabile

This was classic Stockholm. It was just past midnight and from our view in one of Stockholm’s highest rooftop bars we’d just watched the sun finally dip below the horizon, ending the luminescent sunset that had slowly been unfolding over the past hour or so. It was just a few days before the Midsummer holiday (or better known outside of the Scandinavian world as the longest day of the year) and though I had arrived just that morning, the extended daylight hours made it feel like I’d been there for days. “I can’t believe how many people are still out,” I said to my friend from Stockholm as I looked around the crowded bar. “It’s a Wednesday night.”

“Would you stay home on night like this?” she asked, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the sunset over the city skyline.

Point taken.

I had arrived in Stockholm with grand hopes for the Midsummer holiday. Back in the dark days of February when I booked my trip I was envisioning a Stockholm packed for the holiday, full of people out on the streets, partying under a warm, midnight sun — a sort-of Scandinavian Mardi Gras. I was nearly right about the midnight sun (it gets dark shortly before midnight and becomes light around 3:00 a.m. — an unwelcome sight for late-night revelers), but I was not so right about the warmth (June can still be quite chilly) nor was I right about the raucous street parties (the city actually empties out come Midsummer). But, as other expectations go, it was already clear to me that Stockholm was living up to the hype it’s been receiving as Scandinavia’s emerging capital of culture, with its thriving music and arts scene, a bustling nightlife, and a fondness for innovative design known the world over.

Those images of Sweden that I had before my trip quickly became reality as soon as I arrived: Nordic efficiency, gorgeous blonde people, spotless cityscapes — it was all there. The subway system was amazingly efficient and each train line was designed with a distinct motif in mind; my line seemed to be inspired by Atlantis, adorned with faux Greco ruins and lit with soft shades of indigo and jade that created an ethereal ambiance. The people that I saw on the streets seemed to be unnaturally beautiful, as if they’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog (and, I might add, were on average a good half-foot taller than me). And the sidewalks and parks were shockingly clean and tidy, even around the most trafficked parts of the city.

After checking into my hotel I trekked, via subway, one island east to the central neighborhood of Norrmalm to explore the city. You really have to get used to orienting yourself by island here. Stockholm itself is made up of 14 islands, each with its own history and distinct feel, but individually they are merely part of a larger chain of islands numbering in the thousands, stretching deep into the Baltic Sea and known collectively as the “Archipelago.”

After leaving Centralstation, Stockholm’s main train station, I walked to nearby Sergels Torg, the vast, black-and-white checkered open square set a story below street level where, beneath the gaze of people-watchers from above, commuters crisscross on their way to and from the subway. From here it’s a short walk along Hamngatan to theunofficial center of Stockholm — Kungsträdgården — the lush, narrow park that stretches south to the island’s edge. After grabbing a coffee at one of the French-style cafes on the pebble-stoned paths that line the park, I strolled through the park, walking past the giant digital screen that had been erected in advance of the large crowd expected later that night for the Sweden versus Russia match in the Euro 2008 tournament.

Kungsträdgården was once the site of the royal vegetable garden, hence the name “King’s Garden,” and is located just across the bay from Gamla Stan (“Old Town”), the small island where Stockholm was founded roughly eight centuries ago and home to the iconic Kungliga Slottet (“the Royal Palace”). The palace, with over 600 rooms, is one of the largest in the world and dwarfs all other buildings on the tiny island. As I gazed upon the imposing structure from the park I wondered how many thousands of times larger the palace was compared to my tiny apartment back in New York.

The most scenic way to get around the city is via water — this is, of course, a city of islands. There are a number of boats that give guided tours of the bay, but I saved my money and set sail on one of the commuter taxis that cruise from one island to the other, allowing you to disembark when someplace catches your eye. As we zipped around the bay we passed the medieval buildings lining the water’s edge on Gamla Stan, then along the precipitous cliffs that make up the northern edge of Södermalm. Finally, about fifteen minutes into the voyage, we came to the emerald island of Djurgården. One of the main destinations for visitors, Djurgården is home to some of the city’s best known attractions, including the sprawling re-creation of old-Sweden, Skansen, and the nostalgic amusement park, Gröna Lund. This is also where most of the city’s museums are concentrated, dedicated to such wildly varied topics as salmon migration, Nordic history, 17-century warships, and Astrid Lindgren, the revered Swedish author who created Pippi Longstocking — just to name a few. There is, quite literally, something for everybody.

A few hours later I met up with a couple of Stockholmers for an evening out on the town to check out the nightlife that I’d been hearing so much about. We met at Centralstation and walked south across one of Stockholm’s many bridges to Gamla Stan. Here we meandered along the narrow, cobblestoned streets amongst the various shops and restaurants that call this medieval neighborhood home. Around every corner seemed to be another old square, packed with locals sitting at café tables eating dinner or enjoying an after-dinner drink.

We continued one island south to the trendy district of Södermalm. Once home to the city’s working class, the neighborhood, like so many of its kind around the world, has been transformed by an influx of the young and fashionable into what is now the city’s center of nightlife. During the day the main thoroughfare, Götgatan, is crowded with shoppers visiting the many stores and designer boutiques along the street, but by night it’s packed with twenty-somethings heading out to the neighborhood’s many music venues, chic nightclubs, and eclectic restaurants.

We had dinner at Debaser Medis, a restaurant/club in the center of Södermalm whose terrace overlooks the busy square of Medborgarplatsen, where, as we ate, we watched as the once crowded square below us emptied out as the night’s match approached. After ducking inside to check the score — Sweden was on their way to a 0-2 loss — we backtracked along Götgatan, turned down an empty side-street, and climbed a steep set of stairs, finally arriving at Mosebacke restaurant. Resting on a hill in the heights of Södermalm and offering a panoramic view of the city, Mosebacke’s patio is easily one of the best places in Stockholm to sit and watch the sun set with a group of friends during a summer evening.

After a couple of Carlsbergs we decided to keep up with the theme of high-altitude drinks, and there’s probably no higher — or trendier — place in Stockholm for kicking back flavored Mojitos and Cosmopolitans than OHD, the skybar perched on top of the 25 story-tall Skrapan (as in skyscraper). Once the headquarters for the city’s tax agency, the building is now home to over 400 student apartments which, needless to say, means that on any given night this loungey bar is likely to be a rollicking place for a few drinks high above the city.

It was just past midnight and the sun had finally made a full retreat, casting a short-lived shadow across the city. To celebrate this rare occurrence we hailed a taxi and headed back into Norrmalm to East, one of the many upscale restaurants that call this posh neighborhood home. A premier restaurant serving pan-Asian dishes family style, East turns into a lively club by night’s end, cramming Stockholm’s well-dressed and well-connected into its bar where they can get down to a mix of reggae, Swedish pop, and hip-hop well into the late-night hours. After working up a sweat on the makeshift dancefloor, I made my way to the small terrace outside to cool off. I checked the time and was amazed to see that it had been almost one full day since my plane had touched down. Was I missing the relatively long nights that I was so accustomed to in the summer? Not one bit, I thought to myself, with days like this, who needs the night?

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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