I’ve lived in Savoie long enough to tell you one thing: Vanoise National Park isn’t just a pretty postcard. Here, nature is vast, untamed, and incredibly alive. Whether you're visiting for a holiday or live in a nearby valley, here are my top picks you shouldn’t miss.

Sleeping in a mountain hut—the best way to experience the mountains

Hiking in Vanoise National Park is already magical, but spending a night in a refuge? That’s sacred. I recommend the glacier tour, a 4- to 7-day trek with stops at huts like L’Arpont, Dent Parrachée, or Leisse. The food’s great, you’ll meet other hikers, and in the early morning, when the sun lights up the peaks, I guarantee you won’t be thinking about your emails. Even a single night at Refuge du Fond d’Aussois or La Valette is enough to unplug.

High-altitude lakes: when the peaks reflect in the water

High-altitude lakes are a bit like my madeleine de Proust. I love climbing up early in the morning when everything’s still quiet. Lac Blanc, starting from Termignon, is a pretty accessible hike, often punctuated by the whistling of marmots. Wilder, Lac de la Glière near Champagny-en-Vanoise is one of my favorite spots for a picnic far from everything.



Glacial valleys—my breath of fresh air

I often go there to reconnect with the mountains, especially when I want a spectacular setting without hours of climbing. The Orgère valley, starting from Saint-André in Maurienne, is a gem. Easy to access, super wild, with its Swiss pine trees and singing streams... You’re instantly immersed in the alpine atmosphere. A little higher up, from Val Cenis/Termignon, I recommend the Cirque du Génépy. It’s an old glacial landscape just the way we love it: rocks smoothed by ice, near-total silence, and a real sense of the end of the world.

Glacier mountaineering at the heart of the ice

For the more athletic (and always with a guide, of course), climbing the Grande Casse, 3,855 m, remains a legendary goal. I’ve only done it once, but what a rush! You’ll need crampons, an ice axe, and good fitness, but the view up there is indescribable. There are also more accessible glacial routes around Pointe de la Réchasse or the Dôme de Chasseforêt.

Gateways to Vanoise National Park

Bonneval-sur-Arc... this little village perched at 1,835 meters, I never get tired of it. It’s kept its charm: stone houses, slate roofs, fountains... It’s simple, everything’s beautiful. It’s also a great base for hiking in the park. And then there’s Pralognan-la-Vanoise, my favorite gateway. It’s a mountain village just the way I like them—quiet streets, typical chalets, and above all, direct access to incredible landscapes.

I'm currently converting a DAF/HEULIEZ MB205 bus.

Cheaper and more spacious than a regular vehicle, the paperwork (in France) isn't too difficult for approval.

I'm ready to help anyone who wants to tackle this kind of project. Those who know, help those who want to....

It's all in the title—I'm 70, and I've been traveling by bike (tent and camp stove) for five years now. Statistically, how many more years do I have left to plan my destinations and see (almost) everything? Question is half realistic, half humorous. To keep it simple: how old are you, fellow senior cyclists still on the road? And what are your biggest challenges? Personally, I'm in good physical shape, though my cruising speed has dropped from 3–4 km/h over the past five years. But arthritis (hip) is starting to make it tricky to swing my leg over the frame.

Let’s stick with the water theme—it’s definitely the season (maybe a bit *too* much for some of those dealing with floods 😕). After the flowing waters (with varying energy levels), let’s take it easy with still waters:

Lakes (Annecy)

Ponds (near Moustiers Saint Marie)

Lagoons (Bacalar)

If you’ve got nice photos of a pond—or even a puddle—why not? Natural bodies of water only: no pools or fountains (reservoir lakes are accepted… because they often look like natural lakes ).

The contest rules are the same as always 😉: Up to 3 photos per member, one photo per post (a little explanation is better), and past winning photos from other VF contests aren’t allowed. You have until Sunday, February 22nd at 11:59 PM (Paris time) to post your photos. Voting starts Monday the 23rd at midnight—rank your top 3 photos in order (3, 2, and 1 points). Voting ends Saturday, February 28th at 11:59 PM. Results will be announced on March 1st. The winning photo is the one with the most points (in case of a tie, the photo ranked first the most times wins). The lucky winner gets to organize March’s contest 😎.

Dig into your archives…

Hey Cyclists! So, here we go—departure this Thursday from Giromagny (90), still in bikepacking mode, but this time with my wife’s bike lol.

12 years later, back in the Alps for a crossing all the way to Barcelonnette. From there, I’ll head toward Vaucluse and face Mont Ventoux for the first time 🚴‍♂️. Until then, the Alps will most likely leave their mark 😅🚵‍♂️🚴‍♂️. I’m a bit nervous about the Col de la Colombière—if all goes well, I should leave a wreath there lol! The return after Mont Ventoux should be less traumatic (or maybe not).

A few photos below.

If you’re on my route, it’d be great to chat! ;) I’m also planning to film the ride (as usual), my impressions, etc.

Good luck with your preparations to everyone working on a project, and safe travels to those already on the road! ;) Gilles

Hello 🙂

I should be serving a warming drink to the participants in the discussion about gardens and parks that provide us with beautiful photos, I could mention the delicious buttery scent wafting from bakeries in the thread about returning to France, but my heart, its powerful pulse that nourishes my entire being, is elsewhere.

Dasht-e Lut, Yazd, Esfahan, Bam, Kerman, Qeshm, Hormuz—a melody, a prayer at the heart of desire.

A dream, an unattainable fantasy? No. Not anymore. A very serious Italian travel agency is organizing this trip for 6 people this winter. I’m signed up, I’m going, I’m living. Maybe.

"But you’re completely crazy!!!!"

I know... I know that every civilization, every society has a vital need to create scapegoats to define and justify itself, pathetically. And Iran is one of them, top of the list. I laugh or sigh, and it doesn’t bother me.

But that unchanging red, deep red and garnet, so beautiful in itself, in all the Western chancelleries repeats, whispers, shouts: don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, you’re putting yourself in danger and we can’t do anything for you. You’ll be turned into mere bargaining chips, into arguments for endless negotiations. Fear must be instilled, its power absolutely preserved, no concessions made to the enemy. The information (how many French hostages, real or fake, compared to the number of travelers?) is always lacking.

Traveling becomes a merciless confrontation between desire, the vital pulse, and anxiety, its ghosts.

Catherine

Hi everyone, I’m planning my first trip to Greece from October 29th to November 23rd and I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions on the itinerary I’m considering. For a first visit, I’ll definitely cover the traditional tourist route, but I’m also open to off-the-beaten-path ideas. I’m curious and interested in history, archaeological sites, and the islands—more for culture than beaches, anyway, especially in November!

Here’s the plan: 3–4 days in Athens, 2 days in Nafplio: visiting Epidaurus and Mycenae, Stop in Olympia on the way to Delphi via Patras by bus? To avoid backtracking to Athens; 2 days in Delphi, including the site and Mount Parnassus, Explore the Ionian coast and a few islands? A few days in Corfu, 3 days in Meteora, 2–3 days in Thessaloniki, Direct flight from Thessaloniki to Heraklion, Crete, 3–4 days in Crete, November 22nd–23rd: overnight ferry back to Athens to catch my return flight to Montreal.

You’ve probably guessed I’m traveling solo. It might seem a bit scattered right now—I’ve started reading up on Greece, and there are must-see spots. What feels unclear are the 4–5 days between Delphi and Corfu. Also, mid-November in the islands might not be ideal if the weather’s bad.

Is Corfu worth it? Maybe there are other options—like a few days in Albania? Just throwing the idea out there.

Thanks for your input! I’d love to hear about your experiences to help enrich my upcoming trip.

Hey there, I’m moving to Réunion Island in September and I’d love to hear about your experiences there. What’s there to do and what should I avoid? Do you have any great tips for budget-friendly accommodation or places to stay? Any advice on how to save money while I’m there? Thanks in advance!

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.

Who are you? Where are you from? Where are you going?

Like last year at this time, a post about bike travel ideas.

How many of us are preparing a trip planned for this year? Probably a lot.

What’s yours—the one you’ve been dying to do for so long, maybe too long? For us, it’s a modest PARIS-MARATHON by bike, followed by MARATHON-ATHENS on foot in June 2010. And you?

May the passion keep growing before, during, and after! Happy planning and safe travels to everyone.

Hi everyone, I’m so happy Voyage Forum is back online. This is perfect timing since we’re leaving on November 28th for a cruise departing from Le Havre (Southampton, Zeebrugge, Rotterdam, Hamburg). Could you share some info on the distances from the ports to the city centers, sights to see, etc.? Thanks so much, and see you soon!

During the 60s and 70s, thousands of travelers hit the road to India. Some were backpackers or hippies, but not all. In this collective anthology featuring around twenty contributors (including GeorgesOz), you’ll also find truth-seekers, a couple who went on their honeymoon to get married in Bengal... and "crazy" folks who set off on VéloSolex bikes...

Worth noting: all contributors donated their royalties to support the Céline Hegron clinic in a poor neighborhood of Varanasi.

Now that the curtain has fallen on the past year, it’s time to see what’s happening around here. It seems pretty quiet, but I’ll read more in detail later.

First, I need to tell you all an anecdote.

My eldest little girl, in her third year of law school, was really scared she wouldn’t pass the year. I told her: “Trust yourself, you’ve worked so hard, and worst case, if you fail, you’ll just redo the year.” “But I don’t think I’ll make it—they changed the rules, and if I mess up even one unit, I have to start all over.” I knew her grades weren’t exactly stellar, and with what I was about to say, I wasn’t taking much of a risk. “Here’s the deal, sweetheart: if you pass, I promise I’ll take you to India, just the two of us.” I have to admit, India is a country I’ve talked about so much to all my grandchildren that in their minds, it’s become a magical, mythical place (hmm).

July had barely begun when my phone rang, her name flashing on the screen. “Mamido, I did it!” My promise came rushing back—oh no, oh no, oh no! “Congratulations, sweetheart!” A little shyly, she said: “Is the India trip still on?”

And me, replying: “Of course it is!”

And that’s that—a promise is a promise, or you risk losing that precious trust that keeps hearts warm and at peace.

We’re leaving in February. Only 8 days—yikes, the carbon footprint! But we can’t miss her tutorials, or she’ll be kicked out. Personally, that works just fine for me.

Going to India has become a challenge for me. It’s far, it’s exhausting, I sweat, I hate mosquitoes, the spices bother my mouth when I used to love them. There’s noise all the time—at night, the dogs bark nonstop, and we almost get run over. I’ll get lost in the streets because my sense of direction has vanished. I don’t like rice anymore. All that chaos and those cultural differences that once enchanted me now just overwhelm me. But I promised.

The upside—and it’s a big one—Raman, the same driver I’ve had forever, will be at the airport with a sign with our names. We’ll stop at the same little shop for chai (or tea, plain and simple) with that aroma that intoxicates me, halfway through the trip.

It’ll be a tiny trip—staying with friends, I’ll show her a few places I love: Chidambaram, Mamallapuram, and the clinic where I worked. Then we’ll head back. My little girl will go home to her parents.

As for me, I’ll leave right away for our Scottish island with Homme for our chilly winter.

How can you love a country so much you want to live there, then suddenly reject it, no longer able to appreciate what once made it special? That’s the mystery of love, I guess.

Hi there, I’m planning the route to cycle from Lille to Nordkapp with my partner. Duration: 3 months, from May 1st to July 31st, 2026. In the attached details below, I need to add some "non-riding" days (rest days, basically). So I’m looking to "shorten" the trip by taking ferries or trains for some stretches. Which areas could I skip? Thanks in advance for your great tips. Have a good evening. https://www.komoot.com/fr-fr/collection/4023980/-lille-cap-nord-1er-mai-au-31-juillet-2026?ref=collection

So, to start the year off right (Happy New Year!), This is where we can discuss January’s theme. With 20,000 km of French coastline (there’s a catch ;)), our beautiful country should be well represented!

Dig out those hard drives! Bruno

I don’t want to write an obituary for VF here; I hope it’s just a rough patch and that we can keep exchanging. But I do want to list all the great things this Forum has given me:

-Some amazing travel stories from Yangguizi, one of which led me to North Korea. Just look at the power of storytelling! And Looping, Mariecurry, Michant... Pondi will see me in the Altai one day. -Meeting a really friendly travel companion, which gave me the confidence to explore the Russian Far North. Where else could I have found a travel buddy for such a unique trip? -Meeting people on the Forum who encouraged me to write and gave me confidence. I even found my Quebecois translator and Breton translator for a few lines here on VF. A big thank you to them. -A wealth of information from reading travel journals, plus the chance to ask specific questions to prepare for a trip. Reading these journals also inspired me to visit new destinations.

And then, Voyage Forum is like a big family made up of so many different personalities. Anonymity breaks down all barriers and inhibitions. Sure, some people can be a pain and might’ve needed some help, there are the lost souls; others are all kindness and warmth; some stand out for their beautiful French; that’s not something to dismiss in these times of language impoverishment; some intellectuals share ideas that often go over my head; there are the ruthless commentators on others’ writing and thoughts. Ego battles flare up—it’s all part of the game. I can’t imagine the work it takes to manage all this. Rarely, a historical discussion takes hold with knowledgeable contributors. How cool is that! It’s fascinating and educational. Unfortunately, political correctness often shuts it down quickly. The trolls are watching!

Thank you, VF. And thank you all who owe it to yourselves. What are the most original contributions?

We’re excited to share our sixth travel journal with photos from Southeast Asia, this one entirely dedicated to Thailand. As a reminder, our previous travel journals can be accessed directly by clicking on the username "jojoone1" to the left of each post.

For a change, let’s start with the conclusion: our trip left us with an excellent memory. Very often, everything went like clockwork—short wait times, quick problem-solving, and the curious feeling of being pampered. Sometimes, life isn’t so cruel after all.

It’s only fair to admit that day after day, we encountered Thais who were smiling, helpful, kind, funny, and sometimes even touching. There were a few exceptions, but they were just the trees hiding the (tropical) forest. After this year’s experience, we won’t be the ones to tell you that Thailand isn’t the Land of Smiles or that laughter is just for business. We’ve witnessed so many kind behaviors and gestures that we no longer understand how anyone could complain about the people here—except for bad experiences in ultra-touristy spots packed with travelers lacking any finesse. It got to the point where it made us reflect. And we concluded that we probably have funny, friendly faces (?). We also know we’re the first to smile at them, and every day there, we show respect to everyone we meet. In any case, we have fond thoughts for many of the people we crossed paths with. Thanks to them, our trip took on a whole new human dimension.

A quick note about the photos: last year, the VoyageForum team made a change to how photos are uploaded. This gives us the choice between displaying high-definition photos (but losing ownership rights) or non-HD photos (less sharp, but the originals won’t be spread online without compensation or credit). We opted for the second solution, if only as a matter of principle. It does leave us with some regrets, especially since Françoise switched to the Canon EOS 7D Mark II, whose performance is notably better than the 7D.

Our first trip with Emirates was satisfying but left a mixed impression. Sure, it was the first time all four of our flights were on an Airbus A380. The crews were super friendly, and the meal trays were the best on the first two flights. On the return flights, the meals weren’t great and weren’t filling enough. Overall, the crews seemed disorganized and rushed—clearly some new recruits. The Doha-Paris flight, if memory serves, was on an A380-600, and in that configuration, we were packed in like it hadn’t been in years. In conclusion, it’s hard to say at this stage whether Qatar or Emirates comes out on top.

From our perspective, the journey from northern Thailand to Bangkok can be done via two different routes. This year, we took one of them, which allowed us to alternate between well-known destinations and original visits. Note that some of this year’s visits include cities we’ve already been to. So for a more complete view (Bangkok and Chiang Mai, for example), you’ll need to check out our previous travel journals.

We’ve improved our Thai vocabulary with a few more words and hope next year to move from kindergarten to first grade... For those reading us for the first time, we can only advise against visiting this country on an organized tour or looking for a French-speaking guide. The Thais have organized themselves well—they now have proven tourism practices. Maybe a guidebook for culture, a few basic English words, and a little organization are all you need for a great trip.

CHIANG MAI

Chiang Mai and its region are packed with treasures—so much so that one or two visits might not be enough.

At the airport, you go to a counter that provides a taxi ticket. The fare is 150 baht for a regular car and 200 baht for a larger vehicle. When our turn came, a large vehicle showed up, but we were only charged 150 baht. Okay, fine.

The hotels we’d selected three years ago had significantly increased their rates, so we had to find a new base. In the city center, hotels with large pools are overpriced, and despite the wide selection, it was hard to decide. We ended up at a hotel near the airport, the Baan U Sabai Boutique House. The superior room with a balcony can be negotiated for just under 40 €. It’s a beautiful, fairly new complex in traditional teak style, with very well-kept rooms and a long pool. Given the rather stormy weather in early July, it was the first time in Thailand we swam in cool water. It encouraged us to swim rather than just lounge...



At the end of the hotel street, you come out onto a busy main road where you can hail a songthaew (a kind of shared taxi). It’s easy to be offered a ride to the city center for 2 x 20 baht, but getting a return trip for less than 2 x 40 baht is tough, especially in the evening. Our red songthaew took us straight to Chiang Mai Gate, one of the city’s gates, located southeast of the historic square. We then took Phra Pok Khlao Road for a few dozen meters and chose the first little restaurant that looked nice. Within minutes, we had our dishes and smoothies for a total of 235 baht. Great quality, despite the place looking very touristy. The owner set the tone by handing out smiles left and right.

There’s an amazing spot in Chiang Mai to grab a coffee: Baan Phor Liang Meun. Once you reach Chiang Mai Gate, take Phra Pok Khlao Road for a few meters, then turn onto soi 2 (alley 2). It’s actually the first on the left. After a few dozen meters, you’ll find yourself walking alongside what looks like a Khmer temple.



When you enter, you’re in a vast space—like a temple-garden—where you can eat a small dish or sip a good café crème as if you were in Angkor. The tables are far apart, so you’re as close to birds and squirrels as you are to other customers.



In the small building where the staff works, they provide high-quality mosquito repellent for free—something we’ll now buy regularly at 7/11. They’re small plastic bottles, mostly pink or orange, with Thai writing and "floral fragrance" in English. The scent is actually pleasant. Remember to shake the bottle before opening and pressing, or you’ll end up with cream all over your shorts...

The creator of this space has been sculpting terracotta works since the early 1980s using clay from the Lamphun region—the most consistent clay found in all of Thailand. This café is like visiting an ancient temple, with its abundance of statues, high-reliefs, and bas-reliefs. It’s undeniably a romantic spot for couples—a haven of calm in a very lively city.

Are you a wine lover?

Do you drink wine with your meal, and how often—every day, just on weekends, or only occasionally for special events?

What are your favorite wines, from which country, and what grape variety? I drink wine with my evening meal every day. I’m particularly fond of wines from Australia and Spain—I really like grape varieties like Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz.

Hi, I’m leaving this Saturday for Northern India from 15/02 to 27/02. I’m planning to visit New Delhi, Agra, Chand Baori, Jaipur, Ranthambore, Bundi, Udaipur, and Jodhpur.

What’s the best way to get around? I was thinking of doing everything by train. Maybe taking the bus for some stretches?

As for renting a car with a driver, it seems expensive, so I’ve pretty much ruled that out. Unless someone’s got space for the same dates?

Thanks for your insights!

A turbulent period came to an end around 2022.

Many of us have returned to big trips after making only very small ones—or none at all. For a little anecdote, my dentist told me that due to the lack of travel, a lot of clients treated themselves to implants they would’ve otherwise skipped. The joy of traveling again probably gave some vacationers smiles they hadn’t dared to show before!

Here, you can share what’s on your mind: Have these new, real trips disappointed you, rejuvenated you, or just relieved a long frustration?

For my part, not being so young anymore, there was definitely relief but no explosion of joy. I just had the feeling of picking up the thread of life after a foggy pause, with the bitter taste that 2 or 3 years of my life had been partly stolen from me.

New, seen on TV, you won't believe it. Click here.

During my recent trek, I found that my bike—and my luggage—were heavy. Until now, the weight of my gear hadn’t been an issue. Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe I just can’t handle the SNCF’s stairs anymore.

It hit me in Toulouse. A 3-minute stop turned into a 6-hour delay because of a fire that was hard to control between Toulouse and Montauban. Eventually, our train was canceled, and we were told to take another train that was also waiting for the same destination. It was my fourth train of the day. It was 9:30 PM, and I’d left at 9:30 AM that morning. Suddenly, exhaustion took over.

That’s when I met two bike-packers who, without hesitation, lifted their bikes with all their gear attached, carried them down the steps of the Corail train, and then down the stairs to the underground passage. They were young and fit (they smelled like warm sand), and I definitely wasn’t. It was in that scorching heat, struggling up and down all those stairs (Oh Toulouse, as Nougaro would say, may you be cursed for seven generations), that I decided to go on a diet.

It’s a diet anyone can do, it works, and it’s free. So I’m sharing it right away.

No need to exercise or restrict yourself. No, all you have to do is think and do some research. You need a chair, a table, a scale, a computer, and a spreadsheet. Make a list of everything you’ve brought and weigh it all. Set a goal based on the type of trek and your comfort level. Remove everything that doesn’t help you reach that goal.

My goal: - Trekking in France from May to September, in the plains or at most on a plateau like Mont Aubrac, where at 800 m altitude, it can drop to 10 °C at night even in the middle of summer.

- Sleeping in a tent on a good mattress in a sleeping bag (I’m not changing that). Someone suggested I could sleep under the stars on bubble wrap. No way, are you crazy?

- Not cooking. I buy lunch on the way in the morning and dinner on the way in the afternoon (I’m not changing that either). Someone suggested Ducasse delivers everywhere in France. Uh, have you been smoking lemon weed?

That’s how I lost 5 kg, going from 17.7 kg to 12.8 kg, including luggage but not food or water. But I also reduced the volume and quantity of my gear.

Here are the before photos:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/XDfKaoVvHFNxDXrq5

And after:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/STRVKaWuVcNVeCfS9

of my bike.

You can see that a duffel bag is gone, as well as the extra bags behind the panniers. I don’t even use the mesh pockets at the bottom of each pannier anymore. You can also see I’m still carrying my 1 kg U-lock. I know, it’s unforgivable. I’m on the verge of being banned.

So I might do another trek in September to validate my choices.

For the rear panniers, I can save between 1 and 1.5 kg depending on the solution: Arkel Dry-lites (28 L pair, 0.540 kg) or Vaude Aqua Light (38 L pair, 1.080 kg).

I also need to cut down on the tools I bring. I should be able to shave off about 0.5 kg.

And the bike? I’m thinking about it. Someone suggested the folding Savadeck Z2, which only weighs 10 kg. Carbon? Oh, don’t spread the word—it’s even more taboo than aluminum in some circles, and I won’t even mention the belt drive.

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

Hello everyone, So happy to be back on this Forum! We’re heading off on another cruise—our 7th—after a 5-year break... We’ll be leaving from Venice on April 26th with stops in Kotor, Mykonos, Santorini, and Ancona. Could you help me plan the stops by sharing tips, tricks, and advice? For those who already know me, you know we prefer not to take the cruise line’s excursions but instead organize everything ourselves. Thanks in advance to everyone, and looking forward to chatting with you all!

In 2015, for my 50th birthday, my daughter and I went to Kenya and Tanzania for a safari. Ten years later, for my 60th, a new African adventure: returning to Tanzania, this time to attempt the ascent of Mount Meru.

After watching documentaries and films about Everest climbers, I’ve always been drawn to the idea of experiencing something like that. I’m impressed by those who risk their lives just to chase their dreams and push their limits (my partner would say they’re crazy). I’ve never pretended I could climb the roof of the world. My sights were set on Kilimanjaro instead. But when my daughter planned our adventure, she lowered my ambitions by a few meters by choosing Meru—and I get it. We’re both very active, but we’re not seasoned athletes. And our mountains in Quebec, as beautiful as they are, don’t offer the chance to climb very high to test our endurance against the lack of oxygen.

So, to prepare physically, I worked my 60-year-old legs daily by walking and climbing small hills near home. As for altitude sickness, I’ll have to trust my system and my old lungs, but it still stresses me out. The departure is approaching, and there’s no turning back—I tell myself that at worst, I’ll have tried.

February 2nd, departure day. We leave Montreal on an Air France flight as scheduled. Luckily, because we were worried, our flight times were delayed, and our layover at CDG will be tight. After a 6.5-hour flight to Paris, no messing around—we have just enough time to sit for about thirty minutes before boarding another 8.5-hour flight to Zanzibar, still with Air France. In Zanzibar, we stay on the plane while pale-faced passengers disembark, replaced by sun-kissed travelers (it’s sunny and warm in Zanzibar). We then take a short flight to Kilimanjaro Airport, our final destination. Exhausted but happy to step off the big metal bird, a driver from the agency we chose (Soaring Flamingo) waits to take us to our hotel, the Tulia in Arusha. It’s 2 AM when we finally collapse onto the mattress. Tomorrow, we’ll spend the day recovering from the sleepless flight, relaxing by a murky pool in a beautiful flower-filled courtyard, surrounded by palm trees and the everyday sounds of Africa. At that moment, I feel privileged to share this experience with my daughter, and I think about the mountain that awaits us.

To be continued...

Hi, My departure is coming up soon—two months backpacking in Taiwan, so much to discover! I’d love to hear about your travel experiences.

My main interests are meeting people, understanding how things work, hiking, and nature in general. I’ve also done a lot of reading about Taiwan’s complex situation. I do stone sculpture. I also want to visit Orchid Island for its history. Marie

Hi everyone, The topic has already been discussed, but it was about ten years ago (I haven’t seen any more recent replies). We’re planning to visit Vietnam for the first time from February 21 to March 7, 2025, most likely... We were thinking of exploring the central and northern regions. However, we’ve read a lot of conflicting things about the weather in the North, like Hanoi, at this time of year: “it’s quite nice, around 20-22°C” or “it’s cold, bring socks and a sweater.” But we were hoping to escape winter for a couple of months in a warm place... What do you think—those of you who live there or visit regularly? If it’s better to focus on the Central and Southern regions during these same dates, what shouldn’t we miss? Thanks in advance to the community! Best regards, Bernard

Hi there,

I’m planning to leave Morocco for the summer but want to leave my 4x4 there to avoid exceeding the famous 6-month limit. I’d like to park it in one of the two Spanish enclaves (Ceuta or Melilla). Does anyone know of people or companies that handle long-term parking (preferably secure) in either place? Once the car is parked, what’s the best way to get back to France using public transport? Is the nearest airport Tanger from Ceuta?... How do I get there easily, etc. etc.

Thanks in advance! Dominique

Hi everyone, We’re planning a trip to Cambodia from November 30 to December 21, 2025. We haven’t decided yet whether we’ll land in Phnom Penh or Siem Reap. We’re thinking of covering between 800 and 1,000 km by bike, but we’d rather not bring our trusty rides all that way. Has anyone here already tried buying bikes locally? Do you know if it’s easy to pick one up once we’re there? We’d love to hear about your experiences and any tips you might have. Thanks so much, everyone!

Hello fellow cycling friends,

I’m heading out very soon for a few weeks in France and elsewhere on my trusty two-wheeled steel steed, with a total of me + luggage = around 120 kg gross weight, and I’ve never really tackled mountain passes before—something I’ll definitely be facing this time...

Currently, I’m running 700c wheels and a Deore XT 10-speed drivetrain (long-cage derailleur) with a 26/36/48 chainring setup and an 11-36 cassette. I’m considering two options (and possible modifications) to get a lower gear ratio (currently 0.72) and spin more easily on steep and mountainous climbs...

1 – Install an 11-42 cassette This would give me a gear ratio of 0.61. Would this be feasible with my current rear derailleur, please?

I have several new chains with 116 links—would these work for this cassette, which would have 6 more teeth on the largest cog, or would I need a longer chain?

2 – Swap the 26-tooth small chainring for a 24-tooth one This would give me a gear ratio of 0.66. Would this be feasible, please?

When switching to a 24T, will the gap be accepted by the 36-tooth middle chainring, and will shifting remain as smooth as it is now? Will this setup (24/36/48 + 11-36 cassette) still work well together, in your opinion?

Which of these two options do you think would be more feasible and preferable?

What drivetrain and gearing do you use on your bikes for loaded touring that sometimes involves climbing mountain passes and other steep ascents?

So many questions... Thanks for your answers and advice! Have a great day,

Spady

What would be the ideal time to travel to northern Laos without it being too cold or too hot, and to enjoy the landscapes with green rice paddies and water? We love photography, hiking, and meeting people. We’re considering April/May—is that a good choice?