Inland, the hills rise up and greet the sun, patched with golden fields of grain, vibrant citrus orchards, and the vineyards that produce Sicily’s fragrant nero d’avola wines. The skies are blue, the weather is warm, and somewhere, a few steps down a narrow street, someone is rolling fresh pasta to tempt you back from the shore.

There’s no mistaking Sicily for part of mainland Italy. Though Sicily has been officially part of Italy for nearly 150 years, it has also been ruled in turn by Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and Normans, and the island has kept the flavors of each passing wave of conquerors. Only a few blocks beyond the monuments to Vittorio Emanuele II outside the train station in Palermo are palaces and churches with the domes, mosaics, and geometric loveliness of medieval Arab architecture.

Baroque details line graceful, decaying buildings that shade sprawling markets and tanned children playing soccer in the streets. Most visitors come to Sicily for the weather: the climate is warm year-round, and in the summer months the sunshine is constant and temperatures hover around 86 degrees Fahrenheit. But in Sicily, history, culture, and natural wonders are layered on so thick that the trouble is in choosing the adventure, not finding it.

One adventure worth having, though, is a voyage to the Aeolian Islands off the north coast. The ancient Greeks and Romans called these islands the home of the winds, and their breezes offer some relief from the constant beat of the sun. One boasts the forge of the fire god himself: Vulcano, a volcanic island reachable by ferry or hydrofoil with sulfur baths and dark umber beaches.

Here, the intrepid and long-winded can climb to the top of the sleeping volcano that spewed forth much of the island and peer into the crater once said to be the entrance to Hades. Though it hasn’t erupted in a century, Vulcano’s main crater is far from extinct, its peak smoking with sulfur from multiple exhaust holes and the giant divot of its mouth still muddy-looking and dangerous.

The rock that surrounds the crater is as brittle and sharp as ceramic. Signs warn that hikers should spend no more than a few minutes at the top, lest the fumes intoxicate or poison them. Still, with the wind blowing freely on the sweat spent making it up, the feeling and the view are well worth the scorching hour-long climb.

While the ancient Greeks assigned their gods’ homes on the outer islands, though, they worshiped them on Sicily itself. And after experiencing Vulcano’s primordial power, you can remind yourself of the force of human culture in the Valley of the Temples in Agrigento. Here a complex of Greek temples was hewn from the native red sandstone and erected on a ridge overlooking the countryside, with the hazy cerulean smudge of the Mediterranean visible below the swell of the fields. Modern Agrigento rises to one side, and majestic sandstone forms cascade down the slope, linked by a pale road the Romans called the Sacred Way.

Each temple has its own appeal. The temple to Hera offers the best view and perhaps the most picturesque profile, perched atop the high point on the temples’ ridge. The sanctuary to Concordia is nearly intact despite the twenty-odd centuries since its construction, and dark shadows hide its inner depths even at the height of the day.

The temple of Zeus, meanwhile, is massive and almost completely destroyed, its ruins now poetically crumbling courtyards and staircases among the aloes and olive trees. The temple of Heracles demands humility, one row of its massive columns still standing and each one three times as wide around as the arm span of the average man. Together, the complex inspires awe—after two millennia, its structures are not only standing, but ethereally beautiful and seemingly indestructible.

Sicily’s mysteries are too many and too varied to explore in one short trip. But like the striking beauty of the island itself and the cultural marks so many have made on it, the memory of them will surely endure.
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Oludeniz means “dead sea” in Turkish. The actual town is named Belcekiz, but if you walk a couple hundred meters down the beach, you reach a peninsula of sand which creates a sheltered lagoon. The still, deep blue water behind this spit of land is the “dead” calm sea.

Campgrounds on the lagoon provide quiet places to relax, with or without the family. Bring your tent or rent a fully equipped caravan or camper trailer. Back in the town of Belcekiz, you can choose from a range of hotels. A clean midrange bungalow in a garden setting with AC, TV, and private bathroom costs around $35 USD a night for two.

Besides the beautiful beach and bay, the reason we came here was to trek along the Lycian Way. It’s a meandering trail that follows the contour of Mediterranean coast of southern Turkey. While the 300 km trail itself was opened 1999 it is comprised of paths that are thousands of years old. Take a month and hike the whole trail to Antalya, or pick smaller sections to explore over a few days.

One of the many highlights along the way is Butterfly Valley. This section of the Likya Yolu (in Turkish) is over 300 meters above the water. Start at Faralya and hike the down steep trail about 45 minutes to reach Butterfly Valley on the coast. Vertical cliffs on both sides of the narrow beach define the valley. Hippy expatriates raise over 40 organic foods and try to escape the real world in this mostly self-sufficient Walden. Hold those ropes tightly when climbing back up to the main trail. This side trip is not for the faint of heart.

On the small plateau at Faralya you will be greeted by the sight of George House, a family run inn with bungalows for travelers to stay and communal meals to bring back that hiking energy. Hasan is the host and son of the owner. He is a kind man and his family create a comfortable environment to relax. This is a popular lodge so make reservations if you can.

Finding a place to stay isn’t always about reservations. In many villages, families welcome trekkers into their private homes. They’ll flag you down along the trail, lead you home, clean up their bedroom, and sleep in the kitchen for the night. Dinner and breakfast are included, which are often delicious, but pale in comparison to the experience. You leave knowing you helped a local family, most of whom are simple farmers living off the land. Roads and electricity have just arrived at some of these villages.

Along the trail are historic towns and ruins like Letoon and Xanthos. Xanthos is a mini version of Ephesus, with an amphitheater where gladiators fought in Roman times. See beautiful tile mosaics and Lycian tombs without jockeying with tourists for a position to take a picture. The Chimaera or eternal flames of Mount Olympos are another popular destination with tree houses overlooking the Mediterranean.

The most stunning part of the Lycian Way are not specific places or ruins but the way you start to get used to life here. It isn’t uncommon to spend a few hours with a stranger walking along the trail as they commute home on foot; you are the one visiting after all. The list of stunning views is endless but it’s the smaller moments that you remember. A meal shared with a family on the side of the road where conversation is a mix of pantomime and a few shared words. Walking through the olive groves seeing the ripe fruits hanging down on the branches will return to your mind with every olive eaten. Or maybe it’s the herds of goats whose ancestors have walked these trails since ancient times.

If you are thinking about hiking the Lycian Way there are a few things you should consider. First, the trail is not an easy walk, there is a lot of up and down. You should be ready for the possibility of camping out, while there are usually places to stay in every village it isn’t as if there is a Comfort Inn. Turkey is a primarily Muslim country so women should dress modestly covering their legs and upper arms. Turkish summers are very hot, and the Lycian Way is best traveled in the spring and fall.

Stretching for 1,700km along the length of Nepal, the GHT will take you a mere 157 days to complete. You’ll see eight of the world’s 14 peaks over 8,000m, including Everest, and cross passes reaching up to 6,000m, climbing a total of 150,000m. That’s a Snowdon every day for half a year. Oh, and it will set you back £20,500.

The GHT isn’t the world’s longest long-distance footpath. The Continental Divide Trail in the US is 5,000km and the Trans Canada will be three times that. But this steroidal version of the Pennine Way looks like being the most coveted of all. Eventually, the trail’s originators hope it will stretch from the mighty 8,000m peak Nanga Parbat in Pakistan, considered the westernmost outlier of the Himalaya, to Namche Barwa in Tibet. It will connect five Asian countries – Bhutan, China, India, Nepal and Pakistan.

That version will stretch for 4,500km, but there is no completion date confirmed for such a huge undertaking. For now, the focus is on Nepal – with the first guided treks starting next year. As well as being an enormous challenge, the GHT could also prove to be a welcome money-spinner for a country still recovering from 10 years of civil war. Some parts of Nepal have benefited hugely from tourism, like the Everest and Annapurna regions. Those areas without such famous mountains, particularly in remote western Nepal, haven’t fared nearly so well.

Last year, I trekked along a section of the GHT through the Mugu district of western Nepal, a remote region peopled by Tibetan traders and animist tribes. Thousands of people were relying on aid from the World Food Programme, flown in by helicopter with the nearest roads a week’s walk away. Many young men leave to find work abroad. Tourism, for all its faults, could really make a difference here.

Several adventurous souls have travelled the arc of the Himalaya before, while Richard and Adrian Crane, cousins of television presenter Nicholas Crane, actually ran it in 1983. But the idea of a defined and designated route for trekkers is more recent. In 2006, the Dutch development agency SNV and the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development based in Kathmandu committed to developing the idea, and have brought together government agencies and local people.

But it’s the hard work of one man, Australian trekker Robin Boustead, that has moved the project along most. After years of research (read his account here), he completed the trek in two sections, and has drawn an excellent free map of the trail’s route as well as writing a guidebook. Every water source, camping ground and elevation has been meticulously logged with GPS, but he says that the route will undoubtedly develop as more people do it and discover better alternatives.

For those without the time – or the knees – to do the whole thing in one go, Boustead has broken the GHT down into nine sections, which you can pick off at your leisure. And if you think 20 grand is a lot of chapatties to spend on an adventure holiday, it’s still a lot less than the current price of a trip up Everest – and a lot more exclusive. There have been four thousand ascents of the world’s highest mountain, but only one man has done the GHT.

A bus ride was in order before we would arrive at our final destination, but as the bus approached, I fel sense of dread boiling up within. It was getting late in the evening and I hadn’t booked accommodations, so we would have to search in the rain for a bed.

As the bus pulled off and meandered along the roadway, my spirits began to brighten a little as the scenery developed before me. The mountains gently descended down to meet the calm waters of an alpine lake. Outside my window, a rainbow appeared over the water, forming a scene so lovely, I went from a state of near exhaustion to an almost giddy exuberance. When the bus slowed to a halt, I stepped off with renewed energy and an eagerness to explore my new surroundings.

Interlaken was to be the home base for my Swiss adventure. This medium sized town is located in central Switzerland between the lakes Thun and Brienz. It offers plenty of shopping, nice architecture, and a variety of restaurants, but what really brings people to Interlaken is the wide variety of activities available due to its location in the Jungfrau region of the Swiss Alps.
The mountains around the city provide some of the finest skiing and snowboarding in the world during the cold months of the year when snow blankets the landscape. In the summer, extreme sports take center stage, with multiple companies offering an assortment of choices including bungee jumping, paragliding, river rafting, sky diving, hiking, ice climbing, mountain biking, glacier walks, canyoning, and for the particularly strong of stomach, zorbing.

Interlaken is surrounded by modestly sized mountains in the forefront, with bigger mountains in the distance. While the whole scene is impressive, the smaller mountains tend to shield the higher peaks from view, so I set out to get a better look from some of the neighboring towns. I had read in a guide book about a small village called Gimmelwald perched high in the mountains, and seeing that it wasn’t far away, I decided to make that my day trip destination.

The first stop was a town by the name of Lauterbrunnen. After stepping off the train and walking away from the station over a small hill, the panorama that unfolded before my eyes left me almost speechless. Snow-capped mountains formed a majestic stone wall around the narrow green valley.

Numerous waterfalls poured over the sides of the cliffs, adding to a scene unlike any I had ever observed. We ventured to the edge of town, where we found a small path that cut through a rolling green pasture. We followed the trail as it led to an outcrop carved into the stone mountain directly behind one of the waterfalls.

While trying not to slip on the wet rock floor, we reached out to try to touch the water cascading down just beyond the railing. After a few minutes, we slowly began our way out of the mist and back toward the station to hop on a bus toward Gimmelwald, not knowing if it could possibly top what we had already experienced, but eager to find out.

The easiest way to get to Gimmelwald is by gondola. Our gondola cabin was almost completely full, but almost everyone continued up the mountain when we stepped off. Walking outside, I was immediately overjoyed at what I found. Gimmelwald had no tourist office.

There were no streets lined with storefronts. The only sights to see were the mountains all around and the village itself. As we walked along the main street, or rather the main path, we passed quaint little houses and a fenced in lawn with a few chickens and a couple goats. I stopped in front of one particular spot that caught my eye; a house that seemingly sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the snowy peaks that made up the backyard.

By this time, we were getting a little hungry, so I rang the doorbell on a shop that advertised for an assortment of homemade snacks. After a short delay, a young man of about high school age opened the door and invited us inside the store, which was actually the front room of his home’s basement. We stopped at another house that offered sandwiches and drinks. There were tables set up on the front porch, so we sat down and enjoyed our lunch in the warm sun and crisp alpine air.

That night, I thought about Interlaken with its architecture, friendly people, and amazing variety of exciting things to do, but what I will remember most was there in Gimmelwald. I couldn’t help but love the simplicity and the relaxed nature. Slowing down and appreciating the small things are a fact of life there. That it was also one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen seemed like icing on the cake.

“Transport?” queried a smiling young man on a sidewalk in Ubud, an artsy town in the south-eastern hills. It’s a frequent offer on the streets of nearly every town in Bali. Everyone with a car will offer you a ride for a small price. You may say “no thank you” seven times on Monkey Forest Road in Ubud. But what’s heart-warming is that you will always receive an enthusiastic “Welcome!” in response.

As one of Indonesia’s luxury destinations, Bali is a truly service-oriented society and economy. Away from the resorts on the coast, there is less commercial zeal and more genuine friendliness. Culturally, Bali differs from other Indonesian islands, and indeed is an exception in this predominantly Muslim country with its Hindu-Buddhist history. It is this history that shapes the Balinese approach to life and the Balinese landscape.

Exploring the surroundings of Ubud on bike is perhaps the best way to take in the beautiful landscape, with all its rice terraces, temples, villages and cackling roosters. I signed up for a daytrip with Arung from Bali Moon Group. We began with a morning stop at an eclectic orchard growing everything from mangosteen, papaya and peanuts to cacao, coffee beans and tea leaves. Arung also introduced us to salak, a fruit with a brown, snake-scaled skin that looks like a nut inside and tastes like mixture of apple and pear.

After an invigorating ginger tea we were driven up to the edge of Mount Batur. The mountain bikes were unloaded and we were ready to start off downhill back towards Ubud. Arung had assured us back in the office that it was “all downhill”, but some of us were taken aback by how steep downhill can be. And the road was just a rocky path. One of the English girls on the excursion already wanted to make use of the trailing van service that carried our backpacks, but was persuaded to stick with it since it would get easier.

Our reward, when it began to level out, was a school full of excited children running towards the road to greet us. Six and seven year old boys were exploding with excitement, seemingly overwhelmed by such an unexpected visit from strangers. “Hallo! Hallo!” they squealed, vying to make eye contact with any one of the cyclists and jumping for high-fives. Wide-eyed awe and giggles rippled through the crowd as our group responded to their eagerness. It felt like the Tour de France. A few boys ran with the bikes until they were out-paced or came to the end of the village.

We cycled along rice paddies, many of them flocked by ducks feeding on leftover grains. In the rolling countryside I could hear the lovely sound of bamboo music and wind chimes everywhere. We passed through several more villages, all laid out on a sloping north-south axis and flanked by walled enclosures that are the typical Balinese. Each had an elaborately carved gateway and immediately behind it a wall, the aling-aling, to keep floating evil spirits from sweeping in through the open gateway.

In one village an old man on a moped scooted up beside me to ride tandem and indulge in conversation. His smile was wide, his questions direct. “Where you from? Where you stay? Where you go?” He exudes a pride in managing dialogue with a foreigner and brushes off the cajoling of youngsters. As we neared the open countryside he veered off back into his village and signalled his final sentence with a wave,”The Balinese people welcome you. Good time.”

Everyone, just everyone, genuinely wants to have contact and wish you well. When we came to the end of our cycle we were invited into a family home. The residential compound had sleeping pavilions for extended family members, a fountain in the middle, a temple and a low table for us to share dinner. A typical Indonesian meal is a selection of hot and cold plates, with spicy meats, peanut sauces and sautéed vegetables. Everyone was exhausted from the combination of heat and pedalling, and completely ready to feast on the buffet.

When our host came to collect our finished plates, she asked simply “Happiness?”