Travel journals

The Eastern region is a landscape of protected coasts and bays, charming little fishing villages, exceptional scenic routes, and hiking trails in the heart of preserved habitats where many migratory bird species live, including puffins.

Stretching from Cape Bonavista in the north, where John Cabot landed in 1497, to Fortune and Grand Bank in the south, this part of Newfoundland was the first to be discovered and settled.

Visiting this region is like stepping back in time and discovering the cultural and artistic richness of this province, all at a more relaxed pace.

Source: https://www.exploretnl.ca/region-est

Videos are embedded throughout the summary. Please click on the image to start the video.

Bonavista Peninsula - Trinity - Gun Hill Trail Bonavista Peninsula - Trinity East - Skerwink Trail Bonavista Peninsula - Elliston - Puffin viewing site Bonavista Peninsula - Elliston - Spillars Cove (Cable John Cove) Bonavista - Dungeon Provincial Park Bonavista - John Cabot Municipal Park Bonavista Peninsula - Cape Bonavista Lighthouse St. Lawrence - Cape Chapeau Rouge Trail

Second trip to Morocco, with our kids and our grandson. A trip for five that delighted us all.

First stop: Marrakech, where we landed in late morning under a blazing sun. We had lunch on Avenue Mohamed V and took a little rest before heading to Djema El F'Na Square in the late afternoon, when the temperature dropped slightly. A quick stroll through the medina and the souks, still as lively as ever. Mountains of goods, craftsmanship that amazes us, a palette of colors, and all sorts of scents...









Then, when night fell, we wandered around the square among the little stalls serving all kinds of dishes: salads, grilled meats, soups, snails... It's incredible. Everyone is super friendly. I suspect they tell the same jokes every night to the tourists passing by. But it's really fun. And surprise, surprise—here, it's already Christmas. Colorful garlands at every stall.









But, rightly or wrongly, even though we're charmed, we prefer not to dine on the square... We're afraid of ruining the rest of the vacation... But what an extraordinary atmosphere on that square. It's overwhelming!

The next morning, we left Marrakech, hoping to find milder temperatures outside the city. On the way to Tichka. The change of scenery is huge. Our grandson can't get over seeing all the vendors selling real or fake minerals, real or fake fossils, merchants who approach as soon as we stop to admire a site or take a photo. There are also apple sellers—real apples for a picnic, which is perfect.





Photo stops are frequent. At every turn, a new discovery, a new viewpoint. The villages blend into the mountains. It's stunning.

The Avalon Peninsula, located in the southeast of Newfoundland Island, isn't just a picturesque place—it's also teeming with natural wonders: icebergs, whales, migratory seabirds, and wild caribou.

It was the first region of the province to be settled. Moreover, it's rich in legends, traditions, and the history of the early adventurers who conquered the New World.

St. John's, the capital, is one of the oldest and easternmost cities in North America. With its colorful houses nestled in the heart of steep rocky hills, it has the traditional charm of a small port town.

Below are the hikes we did in this region. A link is attached to each hike to give you quicker access to the relevant information.

Videos are embedded throughout the summary. Please click on the image to start the video.

Chance Cove Coastal Hiking Trail Cape St. Mary's Ecological Reserve Holyrood - Salmonier Nature Park La Manche Provincial Park - Suspension Bridge Trail Cape Spear - Lighthouse Trail St. John's - Deadman's Bay Trail Quidi Vidi - Sugarloaf Trail St. John's - Signal Hill National Historic Site St. John's - North Head Trail Loop - Signal Hill Salmon Cove - Salmon Cove Sands Provincial Park

Important: I’ve been living in Myanmar for several years now, and I speak and write Burmese correctly (though I still have a strong French accent). I really don’t want this post to make you think that traveling in Myanmar right now is easy. It’s crucial to understand that the country is unstable—this isn’t the place for a relaxing vacation. The security situation and areas open to tourists are constantly changing.

I started my trip in Bagan. Flights were fully booked, so I took a VIP overnight bus from Yangon. Along the way, we encountered 4 checkpoints run by the military. The bus conductor announces that it’s forbidden to use your phone during these stops. Each time, the conductor hands over the passenger list to the checkpoint, and sometimes one or two passengers are asked to step out for questioning before we’re allowed to continue. I didn’t have to interact directly with the soldiers.

In Bagan, there are quite a few local visitors but very, very few foreign tourists... I remember my trip in December 2019 when I’d hear French spoken regularly...

I’m staying at the Bagan Thande Hotel for 130,000 kyats, or about thirty dollars at the current exchange rate.

A land of adventure, the central region of Newfoundland is a vast area of dense forests and rugged coastlines.

To the north, between April and June, icebergs from Greenland drift along the famous "Iceberg Alley."

Inland, forests, lakes, and rivers dominate—once precious resources for Indigenous peoples and European settlers.

To the east lies Terra-Nova National Park and its typical habitat, made up of islands, ponds, bogs, and forests.

Finally, the southern coast, dotted with spectacular fjords, is home to several isolated fishing villages as well as the Miawpukek First Nation of Conne River, the province’s only recognized reserve.

Source: https://www.exploretnl.ca/region-centre

Below is a list of the hikes we did in this region. Each hike has a link attached so you can quickly access more information about it.

Videos are embedded throughout the summary. Click on the image to start the video.

King's Point - Alexander Murray Trail Grand Falls-Windsor - Thunder Brook Falls Trail King's Point - Rattling Brook Falls Trail Harbour Breton - Gun Hill Lookout Trail Harbour Breton - Deadman's Cove Trail Harbour Breton - Rocky Point Lighthouse Trail Harbour Breton Community Dildo Run Provincial Park - Black Head Trail Twillingate - Lower Little Harbour Trail Twillingate - Rockcut Twillingate Trails Twillingate - Lower Head Loop Trail Twillingate - Cuckhold's Point Trail Twillingate - Top of Twillingate Trail Terra-Nova National Park - Mill Cove Lookout Trail Eastport - Sandy Cove Lookout Trail

INTRODUCTION

Creating a masterpiece like Gros Morne National Park wasn’t done overnight. So, when you first discover this extraordinary place, it’s easy to understand why Mother Nature took over 485 million years to bring it to life.

Here, glacial valleys, forests, rugged coastline, beaches, and peat bogs follow one another and intertwine to form a unique ecosystem, one that’s rare in the world. After all, this is where geologists found tangible evidence of the theory of continental drift, and it’s one of the few places on Earth where you can see—and even walk on—the Earth’s mantle. This site is a true celebration of the raw, enigmatic power and beauty of the physical world.

Designated a national park in 1973 and later a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1987, it’s an 1,805 km² playground just waiting for the adventurer in you. Whether you’re traveling solo, with family, or with friends, for a few days or several weeks, you won’t run out of things to do here.

Source: https://www.exploretnl.ca/parc-national-gros-morne

The hikes we did in this region are listed below. Each hike has a link so you can quickly access more information about it.

Videos are embedded throughout the summary. Click on the image to start the video.

Stanleyville Trail Trout River Pond Trail Trout River Pond Trail (Return) Green Gardens Trail Tablelands Trail Scenic Route 431 Lookout Hills Trail Southeast Brook Falls Trail Gros Morne Mountain Trail (James Callaghan Trail) Berry Hill Trail Baker's Brook Falls Trail Berry Hill Pond Trail Western Brook Pond Trail Boat Tour on Western Brook Pond Steve’s Trail Shallow Bay Beach

Here we go...

It’s been almost a month since we got back, and my head is still over there... Just like every time... For my own sake, I know travel journals are useful for travelers planning a trip to a country. But selfishly, they’re also helpful for me—to put the final stone on each journey and revisit it from time to time, just for the memories...

So, this trip won’t be any different, and I invite you to follow along on our Andean adventure, from Lima to the Southern Lipez, from December 16, 2016, to January 14, 2017. It’s a chronological journal because I don’t know how to approach it any other way. It doesn’t hold any absolute truths—just my experiences and feelings, which are obviously personal and not objective!

But if it inspires you to visit these magical countries (and I assume you’re already interested if you’re here) or gives you a couple of tips, then I’ll consider it a win!

So, let’s hit the road for the land of wide-open spaces!

INTRODUCTION

Trip taken in 2021, but still relevant for exploring the island of Newfoundland.

We went on multiple hikes in this Canadian province, which offers a unique and breathtaking landscape.

GPS coordinates: 46.20884, -60.24498 Marine Atlantic Ferry

To do this, we traveled to North Sydney, Nova Scotia, to board a Marine Atlantic ferry that took us to Port aux Basques in Newfoundland. The crossing takes about 7 hours.

The ferry *Highlanders* features spacious cabins for two or four people, a restaurant, a retail store, and a play area for kids.

The reclining seats are comfortable and include a headphone jack and a USB charging port.

We went out on the open-air panoramic observation deck several times to admire the Atlantic Ocean, hoping to spot some marine wildlife. Unfortunately, we didn’t see any.

This short video gives you an overview of the facilities. For more details, I invite you to check out Marine Atlantic’s website at the following address: https://www.marineatlantique.ca/.

https://youtu.be/oV9_7AcJnEQ

FOREWORD

In July 2018, we decided to go on a road trip to Prince Edward Island. We had four days off, so it was the perfect opportunity to set off on an adventure.

This time, I hadn’t had much time to prepare an itinerary. I’d only done a bit of research online to try and find tourist attractions that might interest us.

I should say that it wasn’t our first visit to the island, and since our stay was quite short, we decided to complete the island loop by making stops along the coast to admire the lighthouses, small fishing villages, beaches, and the stunning steep cliffs.

We also made a few stops at lookouts along the road and even went for a hike in Greenwich National Park.

Our trip was more of an escape into nature. When we travel, we feel best when we’re far from the noise and crowds.

So, I invite you to discover the fabulous landscapes of Prince Edward Island.

To get there, we had to cover nearly 1,000 km. It took us a full day, and we had to cross parts of Quebec and New Brunswick.

The roads are beautiful. However, there isn’t much to see except the vast forests lining the highways.

The Confederation Bridge, which is 12.9 kilometers long, connects New Brunswick to Prince Edward Island.

There’s no fee to enter the island when you cross this bridge. However, a toll must be paid when leaving the island.

https://www.confederationbridge.com/fr/tolls-fees

https://youtu.be/UWhn5bqLONU

INTRODUCTION

Travel journal updated in MAY 2025

Since our travel plans outside Canada were canceled due to Covid-19, we decided to take our vacation in Quebec this summer and cover over 5,270 kilometers to explore the various tourist attractions of the North Shore and Gaspésie.

This summary will cover our experiences on the North Shore, while Gaspésie will be the subject of a future summary.

The North Shore, known for its stunning nature, is the perfect spot for outdoor enthusiasts since you can enjoy activities like hiking, wildlife observation, sea kayaking, fishing, and hunting (to name just a few).

It’s also one of the best places in the world to see whales.

Our journey along the North Shore took place between the villages of Tadoussac and Kegaska, as Route 138 ends at the beautiful, long beach in Kegaska.

A few years ago, I walked the Camino de Santiago from Le Puy-en-Velay to Aumont-Aubrac with every intention of continuing my journey the following year. Life had other plans, and it was several years before I picked up my "pilgrim’s staff" again on this legendary trail, starting from Aumont-Aubrac, which I did last September 30th.

Reaching Aumont-Aubrac wasn’t easy since I come from Brittany: first a TGV from Brittany to Paris, then an overnight train from Austerlitz to Rodez, followed by a bus from Rodez to Millau, and finally a TER from Millau to Aumont-Aubrac. I eventually arrived on Sunday, September 30th at 1:30 PM to begin a first stage of 15 km, reaching the Gentianes hostel in Finieyrols, halfway between Aumont and Nasbinals.

Inside South Africa

The Burst Hose. The passenger is so impatient to arrive that the coachman whips a horse that barely tolerates the mistreatment. I can tell she’s gearing up for a kick, and suddenly, at full gallop, she stops responding. If I press the spur, she cuts out but accepts a half-pressed pedal. She pulled this stunt last year, right in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and I can guess the trick: she blew a hose! An hour at a slow trot brings us to a Ford garage. A workshop manager, as sullen as he is efficient, has the necessary parts removed to reach the hose, then announces he doesn’t have the spare part and will need a week to get it. I suggest taking advantage of the access to make a temporary repair on the tear, but he refuses, arguing the pressure is so high that the patch would give way immediately—"It’s not a Testarossa, after all!" After reassembly, he refuses to charge us anything and advises us to head to the next town, 200 kilometers away—off we go for another four hours. Semi-trailers overtake us without mercy; I’m reminded of *Duel*. At the Land Rover dealership, we learn the part will take two working days to arrive, and it’s Thursday. I decide to have the hose delivered to the house without wheels—I’ll change it myself. Five hours later, climbing the pass in first gear, we reach the object of her desires. * Hide and Seek In Brittany, my neighbor is a taciturn, touchy fisherman. He’s anchored his old boat in the middle of the estuary that separates two departments and uses it as a storage space. It’s a jumble of nets, buoys, and traps. The old wooden vessel is falling apart, and the hull’s paint is nothing but a distant memory—so much so that the Maritime Affairs Directorate of his department orders him to remove it or repaint it. Asterix also runs a restaurant on the harbor, where he treats customers to his catch. One Sunday afternoon, we see him loading cooks, servers, and dishwashers armed with rollers, brushes, and paint cans into dinghies. Off they go for two hours of slapdash painting and laughter. Once the starboard side is done, everyone returns to prepare for the evening service. The port side will wait until the Maritime Affairs Directorate from the other department reacts. This story came back to me when I got home: the side visible from the road had been repainted, but the other side was left as is. * The Blonde, the Red, the White, and the Black Many workers are paid at the end of each week, but alcohol sales for takeaway are banned on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on Friday nights, the bars are packed, and liquor stores never empty—of people who are already full. Their limited means reduce them to cheap, harsh wines or bland beers. Yet, they still end up wasted.

* Seven In mainland France, you can easily raise seven sheep per hectare. In the Great Karoo, it takes seven hectares of sparse but tasty vegetation to feed just one sheep. Not to mention the energy spent moving around. Add to that the fact that a French sheep produces about one and a half lambs per year, while here, between droughts and jackals, it’s closer to 0.7, and you’ll understand why, with a 7,000-hectare farm—the local basic unit—a South African farmer’s income barely exceeds that of a farm a hundred times smaller in Brittany. This weekend, the annual agricultural show is taking place at the fairgrounds. Some come from far away, so a procession of pickups, trailers, and trucks loaded with sheep makes its way up the main street: we’re definitely in the Karoo. I expected a competition of lean, wiry ascetics, able to pass on traits useful to the environment, but I suspect these bodybuilder show animals don’t just graze on the bush and are doped with alfalfa. Besides, I caught a dealer red-handed with a bag of pellets. * They’re Not Dolls Ken is a professional hunting guide, working independently. When it’s not hunting season, he goes fishing for clients, mainly in the United States. He says Trump’s election—whom he slightly resembles, though younger—would be good for his business, but he doesn’t like Trump, nor, it seems, his clients much. He wanted to be a farmer, but in the post-apartheid context, taking over a farm was a gamble. His wife, who’s more beautiful than Barbie and Melania, silently agrees. * Neighbors That’s the problem with women: their *it girl* side. Within a year of her moving in, we got two new neighbors. One on the other side of the track, the other half an hour away (here, that’s *next door*). One only travels at the controls of his black helicopter, the other aboard his private Boeing 737. The first is a very wealthy farmer from the northeast of the country who’s expanding into the Karoo. He just bought two non-contiguous farms of 6,000 hectares each. I still don’t know what the owner of the farm in between is thinking. The newcomer plans to create a wildlife reserve for breeding purposes; our future neighbors will be giraffes, rhinos, and antelopes, including rare species like the Sable. They say he’s a man in a hurry, determined: when the municipality dragged its feet on his request to refurbish the public track that serves as our border, he just went ahead and did it himself. It was a historic farm, crossed by paths leading to other farms, home to a pond full of birds where water from the mountain ends up after the villagers have taken their share. That’s where the golf course I was about to become the 29th member of was located. Now, it’s all closed off, fenced, and lined with monumental gates. The Wild West in the Western Cape. Is it because his name ends in ‘-ski’ that rumors link him to Slavic mafias and advise against crossing him? The same rumors say he’s involved in the uranium market—well, there’s uranium in the Karoo’s subsoil. The second neighbor is a Saudi prince who just bought a modestly sized farm—3,500 hectares—but don’t think he’s a minor prince. He paid four and a half times the market price to get it! The farm had been in the same family for two centuries, and the owners refused to even consider selling. The prince’s agent—money, in this case, black gold—kept coming back every week despite repeated refusals, finally saying his client wanted this farm at any price. A price they were asked to set. And that’s how you sell your ancestors’ graves. There are plenty of huge farms for sale here, but the prince was looking for a property where he wouldn’t see any roads, tracks, or other houses or farms. He’ll come a few days a year to hunt. However, he’s annoyed: the runway at the nearest airport, two hours away, isn’t long enough for his private jet, so he’ll have to land in Cape Town, like me, and endure nearly two hours by helicopter. That’s how it goes in South Africa. I’d be curious to know what Julius Malema, leader of the EFF (Economic Freedom Fighters), who advocates the Zimbabwean model of land redistribution, thinks about it.

* Biko The autobiography of a journalist and politician of European descent, South African, is published this week. In 1977, this rookie got her editor’s permission to investigate the death in detention of black leader Steve Biko. The apartheid regime’s political police claimed he had died from a hunger strike. The bold young woman discovered that the medical examiners reported a slightly overweight corpse, and later, it was revealed that Biko had died from abuse, if not torture. Under pressure after publishing her investigation, Helen Zille, disillusioned, gave up journalism and turned to politics. She is one of the white South Africans who fought against apartheid, and it’s reassuring that some people have a conscience that transcends class or race. *

You Have the Watches... …we have the time. Anyone who’s worked with Africans knows this response they occasionally throw at us. Willem, the inconsistent gardener, couldn’t stand the observation: running around the place at top speed, even with a pitchfork over his shoulder, wasn’t getting the job done. So Jan replaced him. We share the same first name—no doubt we’ll accomplish great things. He’s known to be reliable, meaning he shows up for work, and he only speaks Afrikaans. We communicate like at the circus: thumbs up, thumbs down. Jan has the build of a bushman but the bone structure and features of a mixed-race person—multiple mixes. He’s a sprite, always moving, sometimes without purpose or destination (the journey is the path). I lose sight of him—it’s not exactly a virgin forest—and he reappears elsewhere, busy. Jan doesn’t understand wasted water—he must think the same of us trying to cultivate the desert. He’s a gardener like I’m a violinist, virtuosos of playback. After a very light lunch, he lies down on the ground in the shadow of the stables and falls asleep. If his arrival time in the morning is variable, it’s never before the agreed hour, but his departure time is unchanging: it’s 3 PM, no matter what. No point trying to fool him; he can count and shows me the fancy watch eating up his thin wrist. * Colours Veldrift, Oyster Catcher, Lobster Red, Namib, Dune, Lion's Den, Kalahari, Bush Fire, Karoo Dawn, Cape Fynbos, Safari Trail, African Pan, Bushveld Plains, African Queen, Karoo Drift. A bestiary? A herbarium? No, the colors offered by the country’s top paint manufacturer. All the shades of the continent from an armchair. * Pets She loves three mastiffs, a meter tall at the withers. Is it for their beauty? Their breed? Their deterrent power, because knowing these beasts exist, no one would dare enter her property without an invitation? A bit of all that, probably. She won’t say. She loves pets but likes other people’s less, especially the poor ones. So, she actively participates in the campaign to sterilize dogs and cats in the neighboring township. Just think, the poor things can’t afford to feed or care for them, meaning they can’t ensure them a decent life. She and others justify the pets section of the local mini-supermarket. Whether your pet is a puppy, adult, or mature, whether it likes fish or prefers beef (no one thought of a dog-based reference from the township?), you’ll find your happiness. While you order, many locals will only have access to the parking lot to beg. * Democracy in Africa

What would Tocqueville say about Democracy in America this fall? After the father, we had the son; after the husband, and by default, we might get the wife. No one else, really? Let’s not talk about France and its current vaudeville. A Ivorian academic believes African peoples aren’t ready for "Western-style" democracy (caricatured as a free T-shirt buying a vote). Does he know the same is true elsewhere, where many voters vote not for a vision, a project, or convictions, but to protect their own interests? Here in South Africa, national elections were held recently, confirming the ANC’s decline in favor of the Democratic Alliance (DA). Historically (since the end of apartheid) seen as the party of whites (who make up less than 10% of the population), it has managed to rally those disillusioned by the clientelism, incompetence, and corruption of Mandela’s unworthy heirs. The DA now governs five of the country’s six largest cities. In the neighboring township, long after the vote ended, ANC and DA T-shirt wearers cross paths courteously. Today, it’s different. The DA’s national leader is holding a rally in a vacant lot. A few hundred people are there, including a good third of children, three-quarters of them ragged. Not an ANC T-shirt in sight amid the smoke of braais and deafening music. Fewer than ten pale faces: the journalist I’m driving, a local official, and activists. A small convoy of limousines arrives—just four, fewer than any of President Zuma’s offspring’s private stables. The crowd stirs, flags wave, and ululations ring out. Mmusi Maimane is a light-skinned mixed-race man, towering over the assembly, which he gently parts, joining in the dances and posing for selfies. He’ll give his speech, half in English, half in Afrikaans, perched on a truck platform—the meeting’s cost must be bearable for taxpayers. A mediocre populist orator, no doubt, but skilled. Two hours later, in the evening, another gathering. This time in a historic town property. A hundred and fifty people, casual chic, all white except for three mixed-race individuals... and the DA President. A Rotary Club vibe: everyone the town has in terms of farmers, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs has paid their dues to honor Mmusi Maimane’s visit. His admirers see him as a new Mandela or compare him to Obama; his opponents think he’s being manipulated, and his detractors call him a traitor. He’s under forty, intelligent, and his wife is white. The chance he’ll become President of South Africa isn’t zero. * Posh Port Out, Starboard Home. Sonja, who walks the desert at dawn, calls one of her acquaintances posh, meaning snobbish. She’s got a sharp tongue. Wealthy English people (not the ones sent to Australia as convicts one-way) traveling to India would book their cabin on the port side on the way out and starboard on the way back. That way, they had a view of the coast throughout the journey instead of the ocean’s emptiness—whatever Kersauzon says. I didn’t know that by choosing my seat on the plane, depending on the route and time, so the sun lights up the landscape instead of blinding me, I was being posh. * Cosmopolitan Wine Tasting A pale lookalike of Jacob Zuma, a painter teaching his art in Europe; an Antwerp writer in South Africa; a desert gardener with a surfer look; an Irishwoman teaching yoga in the Karoo; an Afrikaner passionate about world history; another, our host, up to his neck in wine; and two French observers—observed observers. Conversations flow, then bottles, just before some hosts leave. Recurring corruption scandals involving President Zuma and his inner circle. A Chenin Blanc. Napoleon, who could have changed the course of South African history. An unwooded Chardonnay. The snake, a puff adder, one found in her garden. A Sauvignon Blanc. The kudu hit by a car at the village exit, which didn’t survive. A Pinotage. The bloody Anglo-Boer War. A Shiraz named Down to Earth. * Little Patagonia A story of pressure or depression, temperature differentials, or perhaps an age-old war between the elements—almost every day at the end of the afternoon, as if tucking in, the wind rushes down the mountain and gives a free haircut. When it falls, you don’t know where, and you hope it hurt itself and won’t get back up. I’m going to build a mast on the house, hoist the sails, trim them, and sail across the desert—it will remember the sea. *

Meeting in the township.



Since a cover is needed (in black and white)...

The context: The urge to return to the USA, to explore a new part of the country. I don’t need much convincing to go back to Uncle Sam’s land. My wife’s on board too. So, off we go for my 9th trip to the USA! (I didn’t take notes, so this is from memory)

Day 1: The departure: Flight with two layovers. I usually avoid layovers in the US before the final destination because of immigration. This time, my flight was Lyon/Munich, then Munich/Chicago, and finally Chicago/New Orleans. The layover in Chicago was 3 hours, and since I’d been through this airport twice before and found it super efficient both times, I wasn’t too worried when I booked my tickets—especially with Lufthansa. Unfortunately, there were several flight changes before departure, the last one leaving us with only a 2h14 layover in Chicago. I called Lufthansa to check if that would be enough, and they told me immigration in Chicago takes about an hour and 45 minutes (according to their calculations). So, I left feeling confident. A 15-minute delay leaving Lyon, then a 1-hour delay leaving Munich—now I’m starting to worry. When we arrived in Chicago, we rushed, cut in line, and made it to immigration. And then—an impossible queue. Game over, we missed our last flight. Of course, Lufthansa rebooked us for the next morning, arriving around 10 AM, and booked us a hotel. I found someone to call Alamo in New Orleans to make sure my rental car would still be there. Everything’s sorted—except our luggage, which we have no idea where it is! My little worry is that we land at 9:45 AM the next morning, and we’ve booked a tour at 11 AM at Laura Plantation, which is about an hour’s drive away! Wait and see…

The +: We're back in the USA The -: Once again, flight delays

Ah! This trip to Texas, postponed so many times because of Covid. I wanted to discover this state, but not in the summer due to the temperatures. I’ll try to dig into my memories since I didn’t take any notes.

Day 1: Departure

Early morning flight from Lyon to Frankfurt (I often fly with Lufthansa). We only have a 50-minute layover, but I trust German organization—it’s not just talk, since it took us only 30 minutes to get to the boarding gate. Arriving in Houston, we’re excited because it’s been 3 years since we last visited the USA, and we’ve missed it.

Everything goes smoothly with the formalities and the car rental, so 1.5 hours after landing, I park near Sam Houston Park to start our discovery. The park is pretty, clean, and has the unique feature of housing some well-preserved Victorian houses. The sun is shining, and it’s always fun to see old wooden houses surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers. A quick drive to the Rothko Chapel, which is dedicated to all faiths. There are also modern artworks in an annex building and outside. Then we head to Pasadena to reach our hotel and go to bed since we’ve been awake for a while!

Hotel: A classic Days Inn. It’s standard, but the beds are comfortable, and it’s a quiet place. The + of the day: We're back in the USA The -: Nothing

Day 2: NASA and then Galveston

Of course, we wake up super early. A quick trip to the nearby Walmart for the usual small purchases. Surprise—I can’t buy a bottle of California white wine because in Texas, there are set hours for buying alcohol. Talk about a bummer for my apéro! Next, we head to Kemah, a small, hyper-touristy port where everything is kitschy but clean and nice. It’s a bit overdone, but since NASA doesn’t open until 10 AM and it’s still early, we might as well enjoy the good weather in a pleasant spot.

We arrive at the NASA Houston center without any issues. It’s smaller than the one in Florida and organized a bit differently. There are trains that take passengers to the different sites, but you need to get tickets (included in the price), and once you’ve finished visiting one site, you have to return to the center to get a ticket for another. Not very practical.

We choose to visit the training center and the rockets, skipping the control room, which, based on the photos, looks like the one at Cape Canaveral. The training center is a cool place because it’s still in use. Engineers are working on machines and computers. We don’t see any astronauts training, but we see the space chair, the shuttle’s robotic arm, and lots of gadgets—this hangar is like Gyro Gearloose’s or Doc’s domain!

Next, we head to the rocket hangar, featuring the Saturn V, the same one as at Cape Canaveral. Finally, we wrap up our tour by returning to the center, where a Boeing 747 with a shuttle attached to its back dominates the outside. We can visit the shuttle, and we don’t miss the chance.

A few exhibits inside complete the experience and satisfy our thirst for knowledge. I love the space exploration era, and gotta say, the Americans do it right. Then we drive to Galveston, about 100 km away. Why Galveston? It’s by the sea, so swimming in late October isn’t unpleasant, and there’s a neighborhood called East End Historic District filled with stunning Victorian houses, each more beautiful than the last. Plus, it’s Halloween season, so the decorations are over the top! They really go all out!

Madame takes a swim, but I find the water too cold for my taste. Apéro (they didn’t trick me twice—I had time to go back to another Walmart!) Dinner + bedtime

Hotel: A classic Quality Inn. No issues. The +: NASA, even if it’s smaller than Cape Canaveral The -: I would’ve preferred the water in the Gulf of Mexico to be a bit warmer

Hi there, I'm starting a new travel journal with my itinerary and memories in mind, and maybe a few photos if I can find some.

The context:

April 2020, I was supposed to go to Uzbekistan, and October 2020 to Texas: both canceled due to COVID. Summer vacations in 2020 weren’t gonna be fun. Optimistic, I’d rescheduled both trips for roughly the same dates in 2021: the first was canceled again because of COVID, the second due to U.S. entry conditions (still COVID-related!). Summer vacations in 2021 *had* to be more fun, or I was gonna lose it!!! Plus, our parents are dealing with health issues, which is weighing us down—we really need to get away!

So I looked into where we could go, somewhere we could live almost normally. I saw that Madeira had implemented strict COVID measures but that life on the island was pretty chill afterward. For me, Madeira = sun + hiking + landscapes. BINGO.

Day 1: The flight and arrival on the island

Flight with TAP via Lisbon, departing around noon. We wore our masks properly on the plane. (My last flight was to Portugal, and I told myself I’d break the jinx and leave COVID behind us.) Layover in Lisbon, then an afternoon flight to Madeira. The landing went smoothly, no wind. Cristiano Ronaldo Airport in Funchal is known for being one of the trickiest in the world due to crosswinds. The checks were standard, except COVID added an extra step. Before the trip, I had to fill out a questionnaire (Madeira Safe). Once there, a group of young people—probably students—greeted us, each with a tablet. The health questionnaire and vaccine check were super quick. Then we saw a doctor, and just like that, we were wished a great stay. Honestly, it was so well organized that it only took 10 minutes. We wouldn’t put our masks back on until we returned!

A taxi took us to our hotel in the hills above Funchal—a pretty upscale place, which isn’t our usual style, but we needed it this time! Dinner on the hotel terrace with the city at our feet. Amazing!

HOTEL: Quinta da Bela Vista

The +: We’re traveling!!! The -: Nothing.

Hello,

I came across a series of photos I took at the Moussem of Moulay Abdallah Amghar four years ago. This moussem takes place about ten kilometers south of El Jadida, by the sea. Little known, if not unknown, to foreigners, it’s actually one of the most important popular cultural events in Morocco. Like the old great Breton pardons, it blends religion and secular celebrations. It’s said to draw over 200,000 participants/pilgrims and nearly 10,000 horsemen. It happens in the summer, usually in August.

First, a moussem is a religious festival in honor of the local saint—in this case, Moulay Abdallah. The heart of the village is occupied by the saint’s tomb, topped by the mosque’s minaret. Two additional tombs belong to two of the saint’s wives.

Hi everyone, I’m sharing my travel journal from Dominica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic) in January 2020. We wanted to escape the rain, gloom, and cold of France—and we got *some* rain and storms, but also warmth!

DOMINICA A small Caribbean island of 754 km², located between Guadeloupe and Martinique, Dominica is part of the Commonwealth. Roseau is its capital. The locals speak English and Creole. The currency is the East Caribbean Dollar (EC$). In October 2019, we decided to visit this little paradise from January 9 to 24, 2020—14 nights on the island. We traveled as two couples. Flight booking with Air Caraïbes: Orly Terminal 4 to Pointe-à-Pitre by plane, then P-à-P to Roseau with L’Express des Îles (boat) for the outbound trip. Marigot to Pointe-à-Pitre to Orly (all by plane on the return). Air Caraïbes: navigAir: plane + shuttle + boat. They handle everything, even delays. A shuttle waits for us at the airport to take us to the boat.

Accommodation bookings: 7 nights on the Caribbean coast in Salisbury (Sunset Bay Club), 4 nights on the Atlantic coast in Taberi La Plaine (Citrus Creek Plantation), and 3 nights in Marigot (Hibiscus Valley Inn). Car rental booked (Courtesy Rental Car).

Thursday, January 9 8:00 AM: Orly Airport, baggage drop-off—we checked in 48 hours earlier. Scheduled takeoff at 11:10 AM. Arrival in P-à-P at 2:30 PM local time after a 7-hour, 50-minute flight. We collect our luggage, and a shuttle is waiting to take us to the dock for L’Express des Îles. We check in, and a big storm hits P-à-P. Scheduled departure at 5:00 PM for a 2-hour, 20-minute crossing. Lots of waves—many passengers got seasick during the trip. Arrival in Roseau at 7:30 PM. We go through customs. Some clementines to declare… which they confiscated! A taxi takes us to the car rental: Courtesy. The ride is covered by the rental company. We get an automatic. You need a special permit to drive in Dominica (12 €, issued by the rental company). And remember—driving is on the left! It’s dark, and we have a good hour’s drive to reach our hotel. First intersection, headlights coming toward us, honking… we’re on the wrong side—driving on the left, remember? Most roads are in poor condition, narrow, with few signs and little to no street lighting. The island was hit by Tropical Storm Erika in 2015 and Hurricane Maria in September 2017, causing major damage. We finally arrive in Coulibistrie at Sunset Bay Club at 9:30 PM. The owner welcomes us, warms up some bread and cheese, and offers us four beers. We have pâté, sausage, and chips—we have a little picnic on the terrace of our bungalow. We have two adjoining rooms. It’s 11:00 PM when we go to bed… and it’s raining.

Friday, January 10 After a hearty breakfast (French toast or pancakes, jams, fresh juice, coffee or tea, eggs-bacon-cheese, bread, fresh fruit), the sun and rain take turns freely. We head north. Colihaut: a short walk through the village—we’re the only tourists. Portsmouth: lunch on Purple Turtle Beach at Sea Bird Bar and Grill (grilled fish, fries, salad, and the local beer: Kubuli). Then we visit Fort Shirley, part of Cabrits National Park. We do the yellow trail and part of the blue one. We buy a week-long pass, useful for some visits (no entry fee). On the way back, we stop at the market to buy some fruit. We arrive at Sunset in time to watch the sunset over the Caribbean Sea. All day, showers and sunshine.

Sunset at Sunset Sunset Beach Colihaut Colihaut





Fort Shirley

Hi everyone!

I’m just back from two weeks in southern Kazakhstan. I went with a friend, and we organized everything ourselves. We came back absolutely enchanted by the trip: stunning landscapes, lots of animals spotted in the parks, and above all, amazing hospitality and a warm welcome.

In this time of general travel-journal scarcity, I’m stepping up to tell you about a far-too-short getaway to the Top West End, a local term for the very northern part of Western Australia, right on the border ( ;) ) with the Northern Territory.

As usual, I didn’t manage to keep it short, but this time I’ve got photos to go with it!

August 2020. Since the opportunities to explore the world are extremely limited right now, all we (R&X) can do is explore our own island! Well, just a part of it, because with the state borders still closed, we’re stuck in Western Australia (WA).

Luckily, we’re pretty fortunate because this state is huge: over 2.5 million km² (that’s more than four times the size of France or 1.5 times Quebec). What’s more, stretching over 20 degrees of latitude between the Antarctic Ocean and the Timor Sea, you’ll find climates ranging from Mediterranean to arid to tropical. That’s actually why we decided to head as far north as possible. Sick of the endless rainy winter in Perth, bring on the heat of the Kimberley... way up Nooorth!

Friday. At the airport, the main terminal was closed (not enough flights), so we ended up in the annex (where flights to the various mines usually depart from). There was no crowd at the gate, and in this huge, single departure lounge, empty seats were plentiful. Only three flights were listed on the screens for the rest of the morning: the first to Coondewanna (?), the second to Darwin, and ours to Kununurra (code KNX).

A cool breeze swept through the half-open corridors along the runways. At the top of the walkway leading to the Fokker 100 (the Airbuses and Boeings are now parked!), a flight attendant greeted us with a basket full of sanitary masks. We were actually the only masked passengers (the staff weren’t wearing them either). With zero Covid-19 cases in WA at the time, the only rule was to maintain social distancing—something pretty hard to do on a full plane!

It was also my first time wearing a mask—it felt weird, pretty uncomfortable, and after a while, painful behind the ears. I really feel for those who have to wear one all day, every day. The flight lasted three long hours, but luckily, I had a good book. From the window, I watched an endless expanse of salt lakes in all shapes and sizes—round, elongated, gray, white, sometimes blue and green—and an infinity of winding, capricious meanders, along with long straight lines that led nowhere. The last half-hour got more interesting as rocky, swollen formations and long, sloping plateaus appeared. Against the vast ochre landscape, green patches became more frequent.







Just before landing, rows of green fields briefly appeared, along with an surprisingly wide river—but we were already rolling down the tarmac. A few hangars, a myriad of small, stationary planes, and a tiny terminal topped with a sign: “Welcome to Kununurra.”







We wanted heat, and here it was—34°C the moment we stepped off the plane! We felt alive again and totally ridiculous in our jeans and sweaters. We quickly grabbed our suitcase and picked up the 4x4 we’d rented—more out of necessity, since only that type of vehicle can access the national parks we planned to visit.

Just four kilometers separated us from Kununurra, a town of 5,000 people founded in 1961 during the construction of the Lake Argyle Dam and the development of the Ord River Irrigation Area Scheme (more on that later). On the horizon, mountain ranges (a bit of an exaggeration, since we know Mt. Meharry, WA’s highest ‘mountain,’ doesn’t even reach 1,250 meters!) and closer to the road, a few irrigation canals cutting through stretches of bush, then a huge park overlooking a small lake lined with reeds.

A row of baobabs (yes, there are baobabs in Australia too!), a series of motels with immaculate lawns, a gas station, and there’s the main street leading to the town center—that is, the parking lots of the two supermarkets, the bottleshop, the pub, the Town Hall, the municipal pool, and the Tourist Office (already closed!), and at the next roundabout, another park, the Presbyterian church, and a few other shops. In short, two or three green blocks that you can explore in no time.

One road leads to the small industrial area and one of the town’s three or four campgrounds, while another heads toward the residential neighborhoods, which look just like the typical suburbs you find in any Australian city—except with tropical vegetation. We stocked up at Coles, an identical copy of the one near our place, and—surprise—the prices were practically the same.

We checked into one of the motels. The receptionist listed the town’s three or four restaurants, insisting that it’s always better to book a table. She recommended the Pump House, a bit outside town on the lake’s edge. “Best spot to watch the sunset, but hurry up.” she told us. It was only 5:00 PM!

When we got there half an hour later, the place was packed, and the sun had already disappeared behind a row of trees! Sure enough, we’d see a few days later that the sunset can be a stunning spectacle—if you wait a bit for the sky (especially if it’s cloudy) to blaze and reflect in the lake’s calm waters. A little disappointed, we headed back into town, where we easily found the other lively spot in town: the pub (nothing like an old English pub). Above the long L-shaped bar, several giant screens (thankfully muted) were broadcasting live footy, rugby league, etc. In one corner, players circled the pool table, while in another, customers were digging into plates of the day’s special. Instead of rooms, there were various patios where groups of friends and coworkers (easily recognizable by the fluoro vests they were still wearing) were gathered. We found a table under a mango tree—unfortunately, a little too close to the guitarist strumming his entire Country Music repertoire, complete with Keith Urban-style tremolos. Guaranteed culture shock!

Since it’s the custom here, we called the Country Club to book a table before the kitchen closed! The CC is the town’s—and even the region’s—fancy spot. Dark decor, modern furniture, dim lighting, and the air conditioning blasting. The twenty or so customers had taken refuge on the vast terrace, lit by torches. The view of the tall eucalyptus trees, illuminated by spotlights shifting from red to blue, was breathtaking.

The menu was minimal, but the grilled salmon was excellent, and the Pavlova (the meringue dessert Kiwis and Aussies have been arguing over since 1906) with melon and watermelon was absolutely divine.

It wasn’t even 9:00 PM, and we were already in bed. Had we already adopted the Top West End’s chicken schedule?!

To be continued... Journal dedicated to Attila

I’ve been busy—here’s another travel journal on Rajasthan, with some new discoveries as always.

Thursday, January 25: I left home at 4:30 AM and headed to Barcelona airport. The roads weren’t blocked by farmers yet, so I made the trip without any issues. I arrived at the airport at 7:10 AM, called Parkvia, and someone picked up my car 15 minutes later. All that was left was to check in my luggage. My Etihad flight was at 10:25 AM, which gave me time for breakfast. We landed in Abu Dhabi at 7:30 PM. The flight to Delhi was at 10:15 PM, the transfer went smoothly without any stress, and we arrived in Delhi at 3:00 AM. I couldn’t waste any time upon arrival because I had a flight to Jodhpur at 6:55 AM. I got to customs, and what a nice surprise—the hall was empty. I went through immediately, had my passport and visa checked, and everything was fine. I grabbed my bag quickly and looked for the transfer to T2, which is outside. You have to walk along the taxi parking lot and take the long corridors—it’s well signposted, and the transfer took 10 minutes. At first, I was a little stressed, not knowing how long customs would take, but in the end, I was early for my 6:55 AM flight. I’m even glad I booked this one, as it got me to Jodhpur at 8:20 AM.

When I arrived, I took an auto-rickshaw to Jodhpur Palace GH, which I’d booked on Booking. The welcome was nice, and I was given a room right away. I was hoping to rest a bit, but unfortunately, it was very noisy. I settled in, took a shower, and was ready to go out and explore the city. The owner stopped me as I was leaving and told me I had to change rooms—I had to repack my bag before heading out. He showed me the way to the clock tower, which is about a 15-minute walk away.

A market lines the street leading to the tower, and the traffic is intense.



I set off in search of the stepwells and Gulab Sagar, a large basin with three water jets and a great view of Mehrangarh Fort. And yes, more baoris!



Toorji Ka Jhalra Bawdi isn’t far away. It’s a meet-up spot for tourists, with restaurants and terraces lining the area. The place is nice.





I looked for Mahila Bagh Ka Jhalra, went around in circles a bit, and finally found it right across from Gulab Sagar, where I’d already been. It’s not in good condition—it’s a shame it hasn’t been restored.



I went back through the clock tower area, found a currency exchange with a good rate, and booked my train tickets for the whole trip. The street was lively, with heavy traffic.





I was tired and headed back to the guesthouse. When I got there, I realized my phone wasn’t showing the right time, which gave me a chance to rest before going out for dinner. The Indigo restaurant is nearby and will be perfect.

Good evening everyone, I hope you're all doing well despite this very unusual time… Here’s a new travel journal to get you back on the Kenyan trails.

It was a really great idea to buy those flight tickets to Nairobi back in December. When Benoit suggested this new safari in February, I hesitated a little (very little): it was the season with particularly high temperatures, and the short rainy season in November/December had been very heavy, raising concerns about the state of the tracks… Given the current situation, no regrets, of course… We quickly organized the safari with our usual guide, and we booked the accommodations ourselves directly. (If we’d waited just a few more weeks, we might’ve regretted it…)

For once, we were able to leave from the airport near where we live (Lorient - Lann Bihoué), which is really convenient: no driving, no parking… We left home at 2 PM on Tuesday, February 18th, and arrived in Nairobi at 6 AM the next morning—perfect. (With a layover in CDG, of course 😉) Upon arrival, after a forehead temperature check by airport staff, we got our visas very quickly (forms filled out before departure). The customs agents congratulated us on our passports full of Kenyan stamps… but we still had to pay the 40 € for the visa.

All that was left was to collect our luggage, and we’d be ready to leave the airport shortly after landing. But there was a small issue: the baggage conveyor belt was broken… Eventually, the suitcases and bags were brought out by hand… Hakuna Matata, as they say here—no problem, as long as they’re all there. Benoit sent a message to Félix, our guide, to come meet us in the airport parking lot. After catching up with our respective families, we set off toward the Mombasa road, heading to Voi.

Traffic in Nairobi is still as heavy as ever, and the pollution is very noticeable (cars, but also cement factories…). The current lockdown has changed things. On social media, Mount Kenya and Kilimanjaro seem visible from Nairobi now!…

The first stop on this safari was a place we hadn’t visited before: the LUMO Community Wildlife Conservancy lumoconservancy.com/. It’s a small reserve located west of Tsavo West and near the Taita Hills. The reserve is managed by the local community, and entry fees are lower than in Tsavo’s national parks. We had initially planned to spend three days in Tsavo East, but since the accommodation wasn’t available for that long, we ended up choosing this option, which turned out to be a great discovery. Since the reserve is small, I think it’s hard to spend more than two days there. The advantage is that, since it’s not a national park, activities like walks or night safaris can be offered.

Alright, here are a few images to set the mood.







Elephants, but also hartebeests and lots of giraffes in a light we really liked.

Hello everyone! This trip dates back to late 2021, but since Voyage Forum reopened for writing, I haven’t seen many travel journals about Tanzania, so I decided to repost this one, which I originally shared on another well-known travelers’ site—even though I prefer Voyage Forum’s user experience. It’s also a chance for me to relive this exhilarating trip... So, if you’re up for it, let me take you on a classic adventure: Tarangire - Ngorongoro - Serengeti, plus a little bonus—the small Arusha Park. First off, yes, as the title of this journal suggests, we were lucky enough to spot *tons* of lions. The power they exude is incredible, even if most of the time they just look like big cats napping or strolling around. But lock eyes with one, and you’ll be glad you’re in the jeep.

But let’s not forget the rest of the wildlife—and the landscapes, which are absolutely stunning, with those iconic tree silhouettes.







I remember before leaving, I was a little worried I wouldn’t feel that same sense of wonder I’d experienced two years earlier in Botswana (see my travel journal). That fear was unfounded—the magic worked its charm once again! Note: Since we had limited time, we focused our trip entirely on safari, so this journal is 100% animals and landscapes—and 0% Maasai. Next post: TARANGIRE

(October 2018).

This account of a short stay in Kenya was originally meant for our friends and family, but to pass the time—for both us and you—and to add some content to the increasingly quiet columns of Voyage Forum during these weeks of confinement, when travelers can only journey in their minds, we decided to share the 25 pages of my ramblings, illustrated with Yolande’s photos, from an extraordinary stay in the Maasai Mara National Reserve. We waited until the two previous discussions on this same topic, filled with stunning photos and started by Régis and then Claire—sometimes in agreement, sometimes differing but always full of insights—had quieted down a bit before jumping in. Well, we’ll give it a try.

Let’s clarify: one of us claims to be a beginner photographer, and the other is just an unrepentant dreamer and modest writer. We often pursued our passions separately—Yolande with her mentor and me with an incomparable tracker—so sometimes the photos don’t quite match the text, or vice versa.

We hope you enjoy reading this lengthy post, which is longer than usual in VF’s sections (except, of course, for Mr. Voyajou). A thousand apologies for straying off the beaten path.

Alright, here we go!

Hi everyone,

So glad this forum is back up! Here’s a recap of our three little weeks in the Azores in August 2024, camping on Terceira, Flores/Corvo, and São Miguel, with a special focus on the camping side—something I struggled to find info on before we left.

As others have mentioned, a trip to the Azores isn’t something you can improvise last-minute, especially in August. The rental car fleet is limited, so prices go up as availability drops, and vacation rentals/hotels are scarce. Plus, inter-island flights and ferries aren’t exactly frequent. I picked our destination in mid-April, and there were already few rental car options left (some local companies had nothing), and no accommodations on Flores for our dates—or only very expensive ones requiring multiple location changes. Since we love camping, we decided to bring our gear without really knowing what to expect.

Flight with TAP (426 €): Outbound: Lyon → Lisbon → Terceira Return: São Miguel → Lisbon (9-hour stopover for a quick visit) → Lyon

Inter-island flights with SATA: Terceira → Flores (via Horta): 87 € Flores → São Miguel: 90 €

I rented all three cars from the same local company, Ilha Grande—they weren’t picky about the car’s condition. For a Clio (or similar): Terceira (4 days): 461 € Flores (5 days): 623 € São Miguel (8 days): 730 €

Weather: The first two weeks were gorgeous—blue skies, no rain, and even hotter than we expected, around 30°C (temperatures barely dropped at night). The last week of August brought more fine rain (mostly at night) and temps between 20 and 25°C (a light jacket was nice in the mornings and evenings).

TERCEIRA: A great introduction! When I looked at what each island had to offer, Terceira wasn’t at the top of my list, but flying into Terceira cut costs and fit our schedule well, so we spent 4 days there. It turned out to be a lovely start.

For camping, we stayed at Salga Campismo in Porto Judeu, 20 minutes from the airport. We discovered that the island’s campsites were packed with locals—extended families or groups of friends having big, festive gatherings with barbecues and long tables. They spend their summers camping instead of at home, and some even commute to work from there. They had huge tents for sleeping, plus tarps for cooking and relaxing—way more gear than the tourists. Since the week of August 15th is peak vacation time (like in France), we struggled to find a spot, and the nights were pretty noisy. This was the only campsite of the trip with numbered pitches. It’s right by the ocean, next to natural pools. Facilities were decent, with hot showers and picnic tables. Lots of shaded spots. Cost: 4 € per small tent + 2 € per person. Electrical outlets were free (20 € deposit). During our explorations, we passed by Cinco Ribeiras campsite (west coast), which seemed similar.

Camping gas: Always ask the campsite reception if any travelers left a gas canister before buying a new one! Before the trip, I emailed each island’s tourism office, and they gave me addresses for Campingaz bottles. On Terceira, No. 13 Rua João Vaz Corte Real in Angra do Heroísmo (an agricultural store in the industrial zone). CV300 cartridge: 10 €. Note: The tourism office gave me the name of the neighboring store, which didn’t carry that brand.

Fridge: No fridges at any campsite on any island. We had a foldable cooler and found bags of crushed ice in supermarkets’ fish sections.

Things to see: Key takeaway: Do the must-see spots early in your stay in case the weather doesn’t cooperate. We were lucky and saw all the viewpoints without clouds—apparently not always the case!

Our main visits/hikes on Terceira: Miradouro Serra do Cume (a must—*the* iconic Terceira photo)

Furnas do Enxofre (free): Few fumaroles, but a pretty 1 km walk through moss and endemic plants. Hike PRC01 TER – Misterios Negros (some acrobatic sections, but a very scenic path). Monte Brasil + Angra do Heroísmo: Lovely town. Hike PR02 TER – Baía da Agualva: Nice, but not much shade (along the coast). Quatro Ribeiras: Church and swimming in natural pools. Biscoitos natural pools: Too touristy (but still free).





FLORES: Our favorite! This was the island I *had* to visit, and we weren’t disappointed—no mass tourism, just stunning nature.

For camping, we chose Santa Cruz campsite. Unlike Terceira, it was only tourists here. Very little shade, but ocean views. Modern facilities with hot showers, clotheslines, and a charging station. A big area with picnic tables, each with a barbecue and sink, all sheltered. Right across from gorgeous natural pools. FREE (you can leave a tip for the caretaker).

For Campingaz, the campsite manager stores canisters and gear left by campers. Otherwise, you can find them at Movipesca.

During a hike, we passed by Fajã Grande campsite (campsites here double as picnic spots for everyone). It’s terraced, with no shade, but very clean facilities and a small bar/restaurant nearby. Natural pools across the street. When we stopped by midday, there were only a few tents. Fajã Grande felt even quieter than Santa Cruz, with just one supermarket.

We also picnicked at Ponta Delgada campsite in the north. Impeccable facilities, lots of picnic tables with barbecues. Empty when we were there. A bit out of the way.

Rental car or not on Flores? Given the high cost, I really debated whether we needed a car. In Santa Cruz, the port, airport, and supermarkets are walkable, and the most famous hikes are one-way, not loops. So I contacted a taxi (the tourism office emails a list of drivers—they don’t wait for customers; you have to call). Prices were around 20 € for Santa Cruz to Fajã Grande, for example. That means you could take several taxi trips before the rental car (over 100 €/day) pays off. But it does mean planning your route and schedule in advance, leaving little room for spontaneity. The taxi I contacted was already booked solid in July, so I decided to keep the car and adjust our hikes to make loops. (FYI, we’re in our 50s, two couples splitting costs—maybe a different calculation if we were 25!) No regrets—it gave us way more freedom.

Our main visits/hikes:

Hike (amazing): Poço da Ribeira do Ferreiro (the iconic waterfalls) → Fajã Grande → Poço do Bacalhau (swim in the waterfall) → Aldeia da Cuada → Poço da Ribeira do Ferreiro. Hike PR04: Loop from Miradouro da Fajã de Lopo Vaz, then down to the beach via the trail. Return along the pebble beach before climbing back up. Worth it, but the descent and ascent are steep.

By car: Miradouro do Portal (great view of the coast to Fajã Grande) – Rocha dos Bordões (basalt columns) – Miradouro das Lagoas Rasa e Funda (a must) – Miradouro da Fajã do Conde.

Hike: Miradouro das Lagoas Funda e Comprida, Lagoa Negra, Seca e Branda, Lagoa Branca. A bit muddy and not as memorable as other hikes. The best part (a must) is the view from the starting miradouro.





By car: The north of the island.

CORVO: Stunning!!

No spots left on the ferry (12 seats), so we took a tourist zodiac (booked a few weeks ahead by email, but there were still spots the day of—several boats make the trip). On the way out, we cruised along Flores’ coast to see waterfalls and caves. On the return, they looked for dolphins (we saw some! 🙂 ). Boat price: 35 € per person. At Corvo, minibuses shuttle between the port and the top of the caldera (10 € round-trip per person). Lots of people just stop at the viewpoint when the shuttle arrives, so we weren’t too crowded on the caldera hike. But it’s too tight on time to walk back down to the port. If you really want to, I think you’d need to stay overnight. All boats spend the same amount of time on the island.



SÃO MIGUEL: Back to civilization—but not just that! São Miguel is way more touristy than the other islands (though still nothing compared to other destinations), but it’s worth it for all the natural sites.

For camping, to avoid long drives, we started at Sete Cidades campsite on the west side. A big, free, terraced campsite with some shade. We were there the last week of August, when crowds start thinning, so there was space—a mix of tourists and locals. A few picnic tables with barbecues. For facilities, one side for men, one for women, each with one toilet (cleaned regularly) and three outdoor cold showers (swimsuits recommended). You can charge your phone in the caretaker’s hut.

After exploring the west, we moved to Furnas for the rest of the trip. We arrived on a Friday night, and the campsite was packed with locals spending the weekend. It emptied out Sunday afternoon. A large, shady campsite with several bathroom blocks (hot showers). There’s a restaurant, but only two picnic tables. Cost: 3.5 € per small tent + 3.5 € per person.

Campingaz: We bought canisters at Decathlon in Ponta Delgada (next to Decathlon, there’s a big shopping center for groceries). Didn’t ask at Sete Cidades, but at Furnas, there was a closet full of gas bottles of all sizes left by campers.

Main visits/hikes: Sete Cidades and the surrounding lakes (lots of viewpoints and short hikes): Beautiful.



Swimming in the hot springs at Ponta da Ferraria (west side of the island).



Furnas: The lake, fumaroles, and parks (like Terra Nostra).



Lagoa do Fogo (gorgeous).



Gorreana tea factory (nice hike through the tea fields + guided tour), Ribeira Grande, Ermida de Nossa Senhora da Paz. The east coast and Ribeira dos Caldeirões park. Ponta Delgada.

Final thoughts: The Azores are a fantastic discovery for nature lovers—lakes, waterfalls, and tranquility. Almost all sites are accessible without hiking (though it’s a shame not to). The “miradouros” (viewpoints) have parking, often with toilets and picnic tables (always very clean), which helps protect nature. Camping is totally doable and really enjoyable! Our only disappointment: Not finding good fruits and veggies (except for São Miguel’s delicious but expensive pineapples).

If you have any questions, I’d be happy to help! Christine

CRETE Spring 2024 from April 11 to May 9

Thursday, April 11: Flight Montreal – Athens (Air Canada # AC 898) Flight Athens – Heraklion (Air Agean # A 3318) Fri 12, Sat 13, and Sun 14 April: Heraklion: Marin Dream Hotel: room great (a bit cramped); location great; breakfast excellent. Spectacular view (5th floor) of the port, balcony, close to the center and restaurants, cleanliness and comfort. I’ll definitely go back! We enjoyed this city, often unfairly criticized because it’s compared to the "three beauties." It’s a great entry point to the island, lets you catch your breath after a few hours of flying and jet lag, and you won’t get bored for 2-3 days. Monday, April 15 am: Car rental (pickup at the airport) Rental company: Auto Europe / Enterprise. Opel Corsica. Efficient and courteous service. Clean car in good condition. No issues. Quick return. I’ll rent again. PS: The two trips between the city center and the airport: public transport (bus): fast, efficient, and cheap.

Mon 15, Tue 16, and Wed 17 April: Agios Nikolaos Highlights: Kritsa, Knossos, Spinalonga, and Mochlos (for the breathtaking descent and the restaurant (Taverna Natural) a short distance from the descent). Accommodation in Ammoudara 72 100 (7-8 km from A.N.): Panorama Bay Villas Apartments. Location (elevated with a view of the blue sea), setting (unbeatable view), convenience, cleanliness, pool: Excellent. I’d run back here. A breakfast in Kritsa is lovely.

Thu 18 and Fri 19 April: Mirtos 720 56: A small seaside town, a bit sleepy, that can be summed up by a main street parallel and very close to the sea, with simple and smiling people. A base for lovely mountain hikes... and Gortyn. Accommodation: Hotel Mirtos: I’ve seen better! But it was only for 2 nights, and considering the rates, the enormous breakfast, and the kindness of the lady... it’s hard to complain. I’d go back if I’m in the area... for 1 or 2 nights. A taverna worth mentioning: Sigelakis, in Sivas. Sat 20, Sun 21, and Mon 22 April: Matala area: Matala: can someone explain the hype? But we were charmed by the region, its small villages (a little nod to Agia Galini), a small mountain school with its students and teacher, and its hidden little beaches... and a taverna (whose owner was a shepherd in another life) and a restaurant where we had our 3 dinners (no need to look elsewhere!). Accommodation in Kamilari(on) 700 20: Aelia Apartments: A long, narrow road through olive groves... the further we went, the more we thought we were on the wrong track! Phew! What an apartment (kitchenette, living room, two bedrooms including one in a mezzanine, balcony). Phew! What a setting, overlooking the surroundings from the terrace! I’d book again right away! Tue 23, Wed 24, and Thu 25 April: Plakias: A favorite! A lovely seaside walk with several terrace bars for an aperitif and really feeling on vacation. Morning hikes and discoveries, and in the afternoon, beach-pool at all-inclusive resorts a few kilometers away (one drink gets you in) and other small beaches. The charm of Spili, the softness of Loutro, and the enchantment of the Imbros Gorge. Accommodation: Horizon Beach Hotel: on the upper floor, a large bright room, a big balcony, and the vast sea right in front of us. Great location. A 10-15 minute walk from the center of Plakias. A great find: I’ll remember this address. In the center, on a street perpendicular to the sea, at the end of this street on your left (facing a tiny bar), one of our best dinners in Crete. The Plakias-Chora Sfakion road is breathtaking, but avoid the road—or rather the path—that hugs the sea too closely... which we didn’t do. Guaranteed sweating!

Fri 26, Sat 27, Sun 28, and Mon 29: Chania: The "big" city. The contrast with the Cretan countryside! Chania offers many attractions for tourists. We happily got "lost" in its alleys. We really enjoyed the quays for a drink at any time and for the lively atmosphere... but I wouldn’t want to be there in July! Accommodation: Boutique Hotel Del Doge. Good location. Close to the port and well soundproofed. A slightly faded decor but very decent. Spacious room and a somewhat narrow bathroom. Parking in a vacant lot along the sea: a 15-20 minute walk. I’d go back unless I find something better! Our favorite spots: we’ll remember Faka, To Stachi, and a restaurant in the center of a small square in the old part (every time we passed by, the TV was on a sports channel!) for the food, service, and friendliness of the staff. AND the ice cream! Great excursions to Valmos and Balos, Kefalas, Kaviles, Almirida, and Gavalochori. Three (3) days would have been enough to get a good sense of the city and the immediate area. It’s not a city—and I’m not even talking about the historic part—where it’s easy to drive. Tue 30, Wed May 1, and Thu 2: Paleochora. Or rather near Paleochora, in Kountoura Selinou (730 01), we stayed at Vienna Rooms Apartments. A few kilometers from the city, a short 10-minute drive, in a lovely olive grove that makes you forget the greenhouses that proliferate in the neighborhood. A large green garden, a big pool, tranquility, and the sea in front of you. Lovely apartments, well furnished, functional, and brand new (still smells new!) On the P-KS road, halfway, on the sea side, there’s a small, brand-new hotel where I’ll stop next time. What a view from the upper floor! Paleochora is a charming little town with a pleasant seaside promenade and an inner street parallel to it, lined with pretty shops. And an important detail: there’s a well-stocked wine bar, Monika Wine Bar, with attentive staff. A good selection of restaurants and a superb breakfast offering. What extraordinary excursions! Elafonissi, Sougia by boat, and up high, many tiny villages and breathtaking panoramas! Fri 03, Sat 04, and Happy Easter May 05: Rethymnon Accommodation: Hotel Casa dei Delfini. Very well located, comfortable, modern, with a certain prestige. A large dining room, stone walls, and a monumental staircase... feels like a castle (parador) in Spain... and a great breakfast. Friendly staff. The market where you can park is a 10-minute walk away. I’ll book again. Of the three "beauties" of Crete, this is our favorite. The center doesn’t (yet) have the "shopping mall" vibe that Chania has a bit too much. It feels good there. It has a cheerful air. Great restaurants. Easter day: visit around Arkadi. Otherwise, we strolled through the city to soak in the beauty of this island. Mon 06, Tue 07, and Wed 08 May: Athens. Flight Aegean #3307 (from Heraklion) Thu 09 May: Return flight: Athens-Montreal. Air Canada #899.

This was our second trip to Greece but our first to Crete. I say "first" because we’re seriously thinking of coming back in May 2025. We traveled in the blooming spring, so without the tourist crowds, and with restaurant and hotel staff in good shape... we could imagine what Crete must be like between July 15 and August 15!!! So our comments should be considered with that in mind. We’re a couple, she’s 76, and he—the driver, GPS, road map, and more—is 79. We’re living proof that Cretan roads are good. They wind, which is normal—we’re in the mountains—sometimes narrow, which is normal—we’re in the mountains—but they’re in very good condition, and Cretan drivers are respectful. Ideal travel climate: not a drop of rain or I don’t remember any! We’ll come back in May for a bit more warmth to enjoy the sea more. Food: the quality and quantity of breakfasts; dinners are good or even very good but sometimes a bit "copy-paste." Landscapes, green mountains, dark canyons (what we saw at 76+79), and endless deep blue, breathtaking. Tomatoes, olives, and honey: we’d want more. The trust restaurateurs show: you have to insist to get the bill!!! Easter: we were in Rethymnon: the crowd was much less oppressive than in Chania two weeks earlier. The kindness and eagerness of people in shops and on the street... which doubles or triples when you stammer a few words of Greek. Our favorites: Kamilari, Plakias, and... Heraklion, yes. In short, we loved it!

PS: Car rental: Why Auto Europe (Enterprise)? The ‘small local rental companies’ don’t rent (re: insurance) to people over 75 springs old!

Hello everyone,

Here’s the story of our two-week trip—13 nights, actually—in the national parks of northern and southeastern Kenya, which we took last September at the end of summer. My wife and I planned this trip with a French agency (Bel Africa, Paris), which worked with a local operator in Nairobi (Nadhy Travels & Tours). The latter provided a driver-guide and vouchers, but no aperitif🙁! Our all-inclusive package included animal safaris exclusively in a customized 4x4 vehicle (with a pop-up roof) and accommodations in high-quality lodges that we selected ourselves. It’s great for comfort, but not so much for the wallet. The cost was obviously astronomical for the services provided. But that’s just my usual take on lodging in East and Southern Africa! Our itinerary was a loop starting and ending in Nairobi, passing through Ol Pejeta, Buffalo Springs-Samburu, Meru NP, Amboseli, and Tsavo West.

Trip breakdown:

Day 1 to 3: Ol Pejeta Day 3 to 7: Buffalo Springs Day 7 to 8: Meru NP-Nairobi Day 9 to 11: Nairobi-Amboseli Day 11 to 14: Tsavo West

Photo gear we brought:

- 1 bridge camera - 2 DSLR bodies - 2 telephoto lenses: 70-200mm f/2.8 and 200-500mm f/5.6 - 2 pairs of 10x42 binoculars

What motivated this trip? We wanted to recharge and were looking for a certain tranquility that would be ideal for wildlife observation and photography—our hobbies. That immediately ruled out the parks in the southwest, which are too crowded. Plus, those would have likely been a repeat of what we experienced in Tanzania a few years earlier (see my travel journal "The Great Migration"). Buffalo Springs particularly appealed to us because of the unique animal species it’s home to. It was really their existence that drove our choices. We wanted to see animals we’d never seen before in their natural habitats.

So, on a beautiful late-summer evening, we took off from Paris-CDG for Nairobi. The overnight flight was uneventful, and we landed early in the morning at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (NBO). But our driver-guide wasn’t waiting for us. Judging by the number of signs being held up, we must have been the only travelers in that situation. Good grief, why wasn’t he there like all the others?

KARIBUUU

Over 5 years later, I’m finally getting around to writing the travel journal for our first trip to East Africa: Tanzania. *Polé Polé*, as they say! 😎

A trip I’d started planning just 6 years ago, in February 2019, for my post-internship exam vacation. After returning to South Africa in July 2019 with my family, this trip, planned for September 2019, would be all about discovery and a few firsts: first trip with friends, first trek, first time in East Africa. I really wanted to attempt the Kilimanjaro ascent, try to still see some of its "eternal" ice, and Alison wanted to do as much safari as possible. Unlike with the Zulus, Himbas, or San, visiting a Maasai village wasn’t on the agenda. Thanks to the Kessy Brothers agency, who were super responsive, Sandy from VF, and other members who helped prepare our trip, we settled on the following itinerary:

Day -1 (8/30): Departure from Pointe-à-Pitre Day 0 (8/31): Departure from Paris Day 1 (9/01): Arrival at Kilimanjaro Airport / Ameg Lodge (Moshi) DAY 2 (9/02): Machame gate / Machame camp DAY 3 (9/03): Shira / Shira camp DAY 4 (9/04): Baranco / Baranco camp DAY 5 (9/05): Barafu / Barafu camp DAY 6 (9/06): Barafu + Summit at midnight / Mweka camp DAY 7 (9/07): Mweka gate / Sal Salnero Hotel (Moshi) DAY 8 (9/08): Arusha National Park / Kanga camp DAY 9 (9/09): Tarangire National Park / Kanga camp DAY 10 (9/10): Tarangire National Park / Twiga Lodge DAY 11 (9/11): Lake Manyara / Twiga Lodge DAY 12 (9/12): Ngorongoro Crater / Simba campsite DAY 13 (9/13): Serengeti National Park / Seronera campsite DAY 14 (9/14): Serengeti National Park - Uoga Kuria Camp DAY 15 (9/15): Serengeti National Park / Waso campsite DAY 16 (9/16): Lake Natron / Maasai Giraffe Ecolodge DAY 17 (9/17): Kilimanjaro Airport Day 18 (9/18): Zanzibar Day 19 (9/19): Zanzibar Day 20 (9/20): Zanzibar Day 21 (9/21): Zanzibar

As I mentioned in my first travel journal about our South Africa trip, I’ve had a special connection to Tanzania for a long time. Growing up in the Indian Ocean without ever visiting Africa, those wildlife documentaries on TV when I skipped my pharmacy classes... I imagined and dreamed about this land and country so much.

The original plan was to go just the two of us with Alison, but somehow—though I don’t quite remember how—we ended up organizing the trip with our friends Mélissa and Doriane, who joined us in Arusha after our Kilimanjaro trek for the last two weeks and their very first safari. I think it was Melissa who had the idea to crash our trip, and she was right to do so! 😉 Flights: Pointe-à-Pitre-Grand Case and Grand Case-Paris with Air Caraïbes. Flights: Paris-JRO and ZNZ-Paris with Kenya Airways (layover in Nairobi). Flight: JRO-ZNZ with Air Tanzania.



Safe travels! !

After two rather rainy kayaking experiences in Alaska at the end of summer in recent years, we chose a slightly drier destination for this late August 2018: the west coast of Greenland. The temperature will certainly be a bit colder, especially at this time of year, but we’re betting on a beautiful end to the season. According to temperature charts, it should be around 5 to 10°C with a few night frosts. The tundra will already have its autumn colors, and by the end of the trip, we might be lucky enough to see the northern lights when the nights get darker.

We’re setting off as a group of three in two inflatable double-seater kayaks (Gumotex) brought from France. The plan is to spend two weeks circumnavigating Arve Princess Island, located north of Ilulissat in Disko Bay, with a possible boat drop-off at the southern tip of the island.

This seems like a fairly classic route in the area—we found several descriptions online (thanks to the authors). With their help and Google Earth, we identified all potential campsites and entered their coordinates into a GPS. The western part of the island, facing the bay, seems ideal for whale watching, while the more rugged eastern side offers access to several glacial walls. We’re somewhat familiar with the area from two winter expeditions on skis and pulkas.

Plus, the commitment is limited due to the island’s proximity to several small villages, including Qeqertaq, Oqaatsut, and even Ilulissat. In fact, we saw fishing boats almost every day. The distance suits us well: 200 kilometers in 16 full days on site, which should leave some leeway in case of bad weather or for hiking.

We booked our flights in June with Air Greenland to Ilulissat for the last week of August and the first week of September. On both the outbound and return trips, we stayed overnight in Copenhagen. The France-Copenhagen flight was with Air France.

We were allowed 3 x 20 kg in the hold. Each kayak with its accessories fits into a 20 kg bag; the last hold bag is for shared gear: tent, stoves, dry bags… We only brought 1.5 kg of semolina for food. In the end, we had 61 kg of gear, and no excess baggage was charged.

Individual gear (clothes and sleeping bags…) was distributed in the cabin luggage.

For the boat transfer, we contacted an agency: Blue Jay, which gave us a number to call upon arrival.

Day 0: Wednesday, August 22 Departure day. After work, I drove from Gap to Marseille’s Marignane Airport for the first leg of the trip to Copenhagen. I enjoyed the rather mild local temperatures: 35°C in the shade. After a layover in Paris, I arrived at the Copenhagen hotel, located two train stops from the airport, where my companions were already settled. No issues—everyone was on time with their luggage.

Day 1 The flight to Greenland was at 9 AM. We had a layover in Kangerlussuaq, where we changed planes, then stopped in Aasiaat before reaching Ilulissat Airport at 3 PM under beautiful sunshine.

We called Blue Jay for the boat transfer: they could take us to the island as early as 6 PM; otherwise, we’d have to wait until the next day. That left us 3 hours to prepare our gear and, most importantly, do our shopping for the two-week trip—it seemed tight, but we gave it a shot.

A quick taxi ride took us to Pisiffik, where we easily found everything we needed: bread, butter, cheese, cold cuts, rice, pasta, jam, muesli… There was no C fuel or methylated spirits for the stoves, but this time we knew the trick: at Stark, a bit uphill from the town, we found the precious liquids. Two hours later, we filled our dry bags and containers with our purchases, and by 5:30 PM, we met Klaus, the Blue Jay manager, directly at the port.

The vacation seemed to truly begin as we sped by boat through the icebergs toward Arve Princess Island. Forty-five minutes later, we spotted a beach lined with rocks where Klaus dropped us off quickly (he had another transfer to make right after).

Here we were on the island, in the middle of nowhere, with all our luggage and food to organize, the tent to set up, and the kayaks to inflate—just 10 hours after leaving the Copenhagen hotel. We got to work, bothered by the flies. Despite our head nets, it was barely tolerable—there were so many of them. They swarmed by the dozens into every bag we opened. It was quite mild: 10°C.

Everything was ready by evening, and we were very happy to have completed all these transfers (planes and boat in a single day) as we slipped into our sleeping bags.

During the night, the wind picked up, and we went out several times to check the tent and kayak anchors. We noticed how bright it was—it was still quite twilight even at 1 AM.

Day 2 5:30 AM wake-up—the south wind was still strong, but since we were heading north, we decided to give it a try anyway.

This was also the moment we loaded the kayaks: since there were only three of us for two double-seater kayaks, we filled the hatch of one kayak, which allowed us to fit all our food. It would have been very difficult if there had been four of us for two kayaks.

Finally, we set off north along the western coast of the island. The conditions were far from ideal—the sea was rough, and the kayaks had a lot of wind resistance. But the main problem was the spray skirt: the gear on deck weighed it down, and the skirt kept coming off… We’d have to deal with it. Barely underway, and whales were already breaking the surface—it was our first time seeing them, and we were very impressed. Too bad the wind didn’t allow for longer contemplation; stopping paddling was impossible with such strong gusts.

We passed a few headlands and even considered stopping due to the conditions. To find some semblance of shelter, we had to hug the coast closely without cutting across the numerous bays, which significantly lengthened the journey. But as the morning went on, the wind died down, and the sea calmed. We spotted several whales and our first seals. It was almost pleasant during the picnic break. By late afternoon, we reached Kangerup Sarqâ Bay, where we had identified a great campsite with a very large beach and a river. But the wind had shifted—it was now coming from the north, making the last hour difficult due to fatigue and headwinds.

The campsite was ideal and beautiful, facing numerous icebergs grounded in the bay.

The GPS alerted us to another major drawback of inflatable kayaks: their slowness. It took us 7.5 hours of actual paddling (excluding breaks) to cover 28 km, averaging 3.7 km/h—somewhat disappointing. But we knew this before leaving, and once again, we’d have to make do!

Day 3 Surprise: at 6 AM wake-up, it was raining, foggy, with a south wind, and the sea was choppy even in the bay. It seemed wise to skip paddling, even though stopping on the second day was tough on morale. We went back to sleep, especially since the travel fatigue and the harsh conditions of the previous day had taken their toll.

At 11 AM, the navigation conditions weren’t any better—at the ends of the bay, we saw huge waves crashing onto the rocks, and giving up for the day became obvious. However, the rain had stopped, so we set off for a hike along the large lake bordering the bay. The wind hadn’t let up, and it was quite cold.

The tundra was starting to take on its autumn colors, and the contrast between the white lichens and the red vegetation was stunning. At the lake, we took out the fishing rods and quickly caught two beautiful Arctic char over 50 cm long.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun seemed closer. Along the beach, we gathered driftwood (mostly old planks) to cook our catch in foil over a fire. Eating our own food in such a beautiful place next to a good fire was comforting after the day’s setback.



In the middle of the night, an Arctic fox entered the tent’s rear awning. It seemed barely intimidated when we shooed it away with loud shouts and then with stones.

Day 4 6:15 AM wake-up—3°C. We were on the water by 8 AM. The wind had dropped significantly, but the sea was shrouded in fog, and it was very cold in these damp conditions.



We passed the bay’s headland, Kangea, and headed toward the abandoned village of Agpat. The atmosphere was very austere—we hugged black rocks in fog that limited visibility to 50 meters, revealing large icebergs as we went.

Suddenly, the water’s surface stirred in front of my kayak, and a huge gray back emerged from the sea. The collision was inevitable, but the whale seemed to understand and dove immediately, passing under the kayak and resurfacing a few meters away. I felt the kayak rock in the white foam and quickly paddled to escape the turbulence. What an emotion!

A light wind began to clear the fog, and the sun made beautiful appearances. Despite the cold, we stopped to visit the abandoned village, which left a strange impression. All the houses were still in good condition and wide open—some must have been very spacious in their time. We went back to sea, and in front of the large Kaangerdluk Bay, we hesitated—the headwind was strong, and large waves split the water. The next beach, from the island of Nua where we stopped to think, was over 8 km away. It was barely 2 PM, but caution led us to stop here for the day. We had covered 12 km—exactly the distance needed to stay on schedule. The afternoon was spent hiking on the island’s hills and gathering mussels and wood.



In the evening, we cooked these large Greenlandic mussels over a wood fire and savored them under the beautiful evening light. The weather was now fine, but the thermometer read -5°C in the sun…

Day 5 Bright sunshine, a glassy sea, and -8°C at 6 AM. Everything was green for setting off, even if putting on damp kayaking gear was a bit unpleasant in the cold. It was the first time we’d paddled on a flat sea since the start of the trip, and our average speed increased slightly.



We entered the Smallesund Strait, marking the end of the island’s west coast. We were close to the large Torssukatak Fjord, where two glaciers flow. The access pass to the fjord was very narrow, and numerous ice chunks blocked access to the beaches. The wind had picked up and was now hitting us head-on (again). Just before entering the fjord, we landed on a steep beach made of large pebbles on Oqaitsut Island. It was very cold with the wind, and moving forward became difficult. We decided to stop for the day both because of the conditions and because the next campsite was far away, given how rugged the fjord was.

We eventually found a flat spot for the tent despite the steep slope. Even with the wind, the weather was beautiful, and we set off on foot for the northeastern cape of the island, overlooking the fjord. The view was far-reaching and exceptional—up close, the large fjord filled with ice and its steep granite cliffs, and in the distance, the ice cap and glacial walls.

We spotted the village of Qeqertaq, whose network we could pick up, allowing us to check the weather forecast, which was rather good. While securing the kayaks in the evening, I noticed the strange behavior of one kayak at the end of the stage was due to the loss of the skeg—impossible to know where it detached. We’d have to do without it.

Day 6 Still that icy headwind from the northeast. We set off anyway for a long stage to reach the large pass connecting the Torssukatak and Ata Fjords.

We advanced laboriously along the high cliffs of the fjord’s southern shore. They faced due north and blocked the sun. We felt the cold and dampness of the rock. It was really cold, especially in the extremities. We picnicked on the western cape of Qeqertakavasak Island. The cold didn’t allow us to stop for more than 20 minutes… But the wind dropped, and the sea was now very smooth. It was heavily cluttered with ice between the icebergs and old pack ice. The goal was to reach the large rocky promontory of Anapnuna, wedged between the Kujatdleq and Kangilerngata Glaciers, but the ice made progress difficult. We stopped to gain height on a small island and spot a passage of open water, but all we saw was white—passing seemed impossible. The currents were very complex, and entire sections of ice were being swept in one direction and then another at an impressive speed.



We wandered through this labyrinth until landing on a beach on the small island of Takissut, where we set up camp, exhausted from the 30 km covered and the vigilance required by the abundance of ice. The place was sublime under the evening sun—we were surrounded by ice and mountains, with the Kangilerngata Glacier in the distance. The summer contrasts were striking between the water, icebergs, sky, and flaming tundra—all colors were represented. Absolute calm reigned.

The lack of drinking water at this spot wasn’t too much of a constraint: as soon as we arrived on the beach, we placed containers under the icebergs stranded in the intertidal zone. They were all full by the time we finished setting up.

Day 7 We had to change our plans: we wouldn’t reach the rocky promontory, too well protected by the ice. We set off under the sun for Igdluluarssuit Island. Although we had spotted a passage just before launching, we quickly found ourselves surrounded by ice. It was everywhere, and finding water to paddle became complicated. We tried to force our way in every direction, even retracing our steps. Everything moved at an impressive speed—we were in the middle of a whirlpool of ice.

The tension rose, and each boat had its share of big scares. I was trapped against ice floes that dragged me toward an iceberg—the pressure on the kayak was enormous; it was going to capsize or puncture! But with a few strong strokes and paddling against the ice, I managed to free myself from the trap. Barely 10 minutes later, my companions were sandwiched perpendicularly between two icebergs that were closing in. The situation was desperate—the kayak was bending and twisting more and more, but with some strong paddle strokes, it finally freed itself. After these particularly unpleasant moments, we were completely blocked. The drifting ice floes had tightened, and the kayaks were no longer even in the water… The only solution: wait with the kayaks on these floes, which were too thin to walk on (even though we didn’t try). Within minutes, the situation cleared—a waterway opened, and we rushed into it. We paddled with one goal: find a larger pool of water. After going back and forth, our path took shape—we had to force the passage several times, attacking the ice directly with the kayaks, and finally, we escaped the worst of the labyrinth. We reached land on the west side of the island and saw that the rest would be easier. To reach the island, we just had to cross the Arsiviup Ikera Strait, which was lightly cluttered. We reached the eastern cape of the island, ideal for camping, even though we had only paddled for 3 hours. We set up camp and hiked to the island’s summit, which overlooks the entire pass and the glaciers.

Everything was magnificent, no matter the direction. At 2 PM, we were at the summit—the beauty of the place and the picnic facing the glacier in the sun without wind made us forget the near-disaster from a few hours earlier. It would be impossible to approach the glacier by kayak, but from our summit on foot, it seemed so close, and contemplating it safely on solid ground was a great moment.

The pass was incredibly complex—everything was in motion, and an impassable passage could become open water within minutes. We were delighted when we returned to camp. A slightly lost whale among the ice accompanied us along the shore. The place was truly beautiful, but the temperature dropped again under the clear sky, preventing us from eating outside.

Day 8 Clear and cold at wake-up: -9°C. The sea had frozen in many places. We hesitated about the rest of the trip—should we start heading back to Ilulissat or linger in the pass, especially to approach the Eqi Glacier? After the incidents of the previous day, we decided to think carefully and paddled to the southern cape of our island to check the ice conditions toward Eqi. The weather had clouded over in the meantime, and the sky was quite gray. At the cape, we spotted the glacier’s wall, still 15 km away.



The fjord was quite cluttered, but it seemed passable. However, there was no guarantee the view would be much better 1 km from the glacier than 15 km away, especially since the front was quite active and therefore dangerous. We decided to head south without passing by the glacier. The cold temperatures encountered in the pass also motivated us to move away from the glaciers and the ice cap. We navigated under a threatening sky but without wind. The kayaks cut through the thin layer of ice on the surface with a crinkling paper sound. We reached the Ata campsite in the late afternoon after 5 hours of rowing without a single break…

The wind had picked up, and we discovered a nice surprise: a refuge with a table and a comfortable bench lined with mattresses. Facing the worsening weather, we settled in comfortably. The kerosene stove was too complex for our three brains—we couldn’t get it started, too bad, as it was 0°C inside. The rest of the afternoon was spent fishing in the large lake, where we landed a beautiful Arctic char, more than enough for three. A good night’s sleep without the risk of foxes or the sound of a tent shaking in the wind.

Day 9 6 AM wake-up to the sound of rain hitting the cabin. The decision was made looking out the window—wind, rain, and fog obscured the sea: we went back to sleep.

New wake-up, and the rain had stopped—we could go out and stock up on fish. We set off on foot toward the lake, following its western shore. It was very overcast, and the wind encouraged us to keep moving. We made our way to a smaller lake at the end of the large one, where we caught a huge Arctic char. A small clearing brightened the picnic, and we headed back to our cabin.

This 20 km hike kept us busy all day: walking on slippery scree and the micro-relief of the peat bogs took time.

Day 10 The sky was clear, but a light south wind made paddling intense. We set off southeast to reach the opposite shore of the fjord. It was very cold, and it was impossible to stop paddling for even a moment without immediately losing ground due to the wind. We crossed the Kangerluarsuk Fjord. I recognized the cape I had reached on skis in the winter of 2017. We found a nice campsite on the southern shore of the fjord: Uiartag. It wasn’t even noon, but facing this headwind, we preferred to stop here rather than exhaust ourselves for a few extra kilometers. Like the previous ones, this campsite was very comfortable: the ground was covered with a thick layer of lichens and mosses, very pleasant to lie on.

We set off on a hike to the heights of the cape, where the weather alternated between large clearings and snow showers. We noticed the loss of the thermometer, poorly attached to the backpack. On the way back, in the small bay of our beach, a whale swam calmly 10 meters from the shore—a beautiful surprise.

The sky cleared completely, and the temperature dropped as night approached.

Hey there, it's me again—back with my usual travel journal share for our loved ones, from our 15-day trip in October 2019.



"Ah, here it is at last—that sweet scent of elsewhere so dear to Cricri and Lulu’s noses, that mix of apprehension and desire when facing the unknown.

We’re really diving into the unknown this time, taking you to the island of SAO TOMÉ... also known as the island: *‘Wait, what did you say?’* 😄. Because apparently, no one’s heard of Sao Tomé—except our Portuguese friends.

It’s an archipelago of three islands smack in the middle of the world, right on the equator, off the coast of Gabon.



No, these aren’t the sun-soaked, Polynesian lagoon islands. Here, *‘it rains, it pours...’* pretty much all the time, it seems.

There’s not much to *‘see’* in the traditional tourist sense—EXCEPT for stunning landscapes, lush vegetation, a few beaches with golden or black sand, colonial buildings still in their original state, a single main road, and plenty of *‘tracks’* that are more or less drivable. All this surrounded by an African population that speaks Portuguese and is known for its warm welcome.

Well, that should be enough for our happiness—and hopefully yours too! 😊



Ready for landing?

Our trip to Norway was two years ago already, but I thought it might still be of interest—and it’ll let me relive it a bit by proxy.

Before booking our flight tickets, we debated the route: should we prioritize the north with the Lofoten and Senja islands, or the south with its countless fjords? I was tempted to stay in the south—the country is so vast, and the drive north is long... but my husband really didn’t want to miss the Lofoten. In the end, we figured that since Norway is known for being expensive, we might only visit once (funny how we said the same thing before our first trip to the American West, and look how that turned out 😎), so we didn’t want to skip anything. That meant a 2–3 day drive up north. With 22 days on the ground, it was doable. Especially since, as usual, we skip big cities and gave Oslo a pass.

Practical details: - Flight tickets: 1195 € for 4 with Air France (Paris–Oslo outbound, Tromsø–Bergen–Paris return) - Car rental: 2020 € for 21 days (including the outrageous drop-off fee between Oslo and Tromsø—about 1000 €) - Tolls and ferries: 250 € for the portion billed directly by the rental company. Some ferries required advance booking and payment at the time of reservation—I’ll note their prices as I go through the story. - Hotels: 4135 €, averaging 188 € per night. We blew past our usual budgets from trips to the U.S., but oh well... - Food: 1570 €, averaging 71 € per day for 4 in a country where everything’s expensive... How’d we manage? We rarely ate out, mostly grocery shopped, and even packed half a suitcase with non-perishables: pasta, rice, a few cans, and even some cured sausage! We also stayed 3 nights at Clarion Collection hotels, where an evening buffet was included in the room rate.