I won’t deny my tendency to over-plan my days and trips. That’s why it was rather out of character for me to hardly plan a thing for my Tasmania trip this past January.
A few months ago, I embarked on an 8-day road trip around all of Iceland. While 8 days does little justice to the natural wonders Iceland has to offer roadtrippers, it’s sufficient time to get a good feel for this incredible country.
I recently spent 8 days driving around Iceland. Or, more accurately, being driven around Iceland by my friends whose driving skills are far superior to mine. No, instead of driving, I bring a random smattering of other useful skills to roadtrips: researching awesome and preferably offbeat stops along the way, negotiating discounts, frantically phoning guesthouses late at night to inquire whether they have an available room at an affordable price, crafting playlists of the cheesy pop and/or classic rock persuasion, getting un-lost after a wrong turn or three, finding backcountry campsites.
During my mid-year break at Sydney Uni in 2006, I traveled for 3+ weeks in Western Australia and the Kimberley. The most economical and safe way for a solo female traveler to take on the rugged backcountry in Australia is to join a tour group, so I threw a few G’s at Western Xposure to take me from Perth to Darwin during the Aussie winter.
I feel like there’s a lot of pressure in visiting Arches National Park. It’s seemingly not enough just to go and take skillfully-composed pictures of the arches – no, you’ve got to go to the right arches at the right time.
Canyonlands plays second fiddle to Arches when it come to Moab’s national parks, but you know what? I don’t think that’s well deserved. Plop this stunner anywhere east of the Mississippi and it would easily be the most visited (and most beautiful) national park.
I could have easily and contentedly wiled away my last full day in Montreal last October with more city frolicking, had I not gotten the itch: the undeniable urge to get out, shake things up, and up the excitement gauge in my life.
Sign #642 that you’re not a winter person: Every time a snowstorm hits, you instantly think of warmer times. Of sunset bike rides, picnics in the park, island getaways, sunburnt naps on the beach, tanktops and flip flops.
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