In fact, I’ve become so obsessed that I am now an expedition guide, spending roughly half the year at sea in Antarctica and the Arctic. And I’m not slowing down anytime soon. I’ve already started a three-month season with Adventure Canada in the Arctic for this summer in Canada and Greenland.

These polar places are almost inaccessible. The easiest and most efficient way to visit is by expedition ship. Most of the year, sea ice locks the Arctic away. Only for a few months in the summer does it melt enough to allow access. Most people get around by small planes, boats, or snowmobiles (in winter). Personally, I find this isolation fascinating.

Here, whales swim by us all the time, polar bears peek out from behind the sea ice, and colorful communities give us the most incredible welcomes. The Arctic is vast, wild, and unpredictable. It gets under your skin.

Curious about traveling to the Arctic? Check out my trips and learn more here

If you’re already keen to go, you can fill out this form, and I’ll help you find your dream trip!

Lately, I’ve been reflecting a lot on my work over the years, blogging, writing, and taking photos. I managed to craft a career out of thin air, getting paid to travel the world and write about it. But if I’m being honest, I’ve felt somewhat disillusioned since the pandemic. I’m tired of hustling. I’m tired of the meaningless competition. It’s not good for my headspace or creativity.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change a thing in the past. But I think I’ve grown and stepped onto a new path I’m keen to explore more of. Guiding.

Visiting the Arctic and writing about it isn’t enough for me. Deep down, I yearned to be part of a team again, a community. Adventure Canada feels like family. Owned and operated by three siblings (started by their dad, uncle, and friend), as soon as you step on board, you feel a connection like no other. The same guides always come back year after year – it feels like going to summer camp and reuniting with all of your friends. And it’s the same with the passengers.

On most trips, half of the passengers are returning, having traveled with AC before. I mean, you can’t invent that kind of loyalty. 

I know it sounds super cheesy, but working in the Arctic fulfills me in a way I didn’t know I needed. It’s freaking hard work but so worth it. I feel like I belong here. It’s an area I know really well, and I love sharing it with others.

Whether I’m driving zodiacs around icebergs the size of skyscrapers, looking for wildlife from the bridge with my eyes glued to my binoculars, or hanging out with everyone in the evenings listening to live music as we steam onwards to our next destination, I’m just so happy. On one trip alone last year, I saw 20 polar bears, including a mom and cubs eating a beluga whale. I walked on sea ice and followed in Franklin’s footsteps on Beechey Island before falling asleep beneath the dancing northern lights in Greenland. I mean, come on!

Over the past year, I have considered the direction I want to take with my work, and I always end up in the same place: polar travel. So, I’ve decided to try something new. In addition to continuing to write and share travel stories, I’m also going to start selling polar trips.

If you or someone you know is interested in traveling to the Arctic, let me help connect you with the perfect trip.

Almost like a travel agent, if someone books a trip to the Arctic through my referral, I’ll make a small commission. I know that no one likes to be sold to, me included, but I’m hoping that by using my knowledge, skills, and experience in the Arctic to help people book the perfect trip there, it’s worth it. I will also be on many of the trips, so you can travel with me (if you want, haha). I’m fun, I swear!

To be honest, I already do this kind of thing anyway; this just makes it more hands-on and a little more official. Being honest about this is really important to me. Changing direction with my income means that I can step back from the Influencer world and focus on the things I really love. It will free me up to be creative, play, and have fun again. It will also give me free reign to never shut up about the polar places I love. Sorry, not sorry.

Curious about traveling to the Arctic?
Check out my trips and learn more here

I promise not to be annoying about it, either. 

To me, this should be natural and organic. Perhaps you’ve followed me for years, and your curiosity about the polar world is piqued (as it should be). Or is it your lifelong dream to see polar bears in the wild? Maybe you have an auntie who loves Inuit art and wants to spend time in the most northerly communities. Or do you want to experience the far north sea ice and diminishing glaciers of Greenland?

Reach out, and I can help you make these dreams a reality. You can also send along my information or this page here if you feel inclined.

I care about our polar worlds more than you could ever imagine. And I firmly believe that everyone who visits becomes a lifelong ambassador for them. We need this now more than ever. Come play in the Arctic; I promise you won’t regret it.

The post A big life update: join me in the Arctic appeared first on Young Adventuress.

It’s so easy for me to slip into negative thought patterns about money and relationships, chastising myself for not following a traditional life path. My life in Wānaka is normal; most of my friends are either on their second kid or their first divorce. To slip into a comparative mindset is second nature for me. It takes some heavy self-reflection to step back and reform the narrative. I know, I know, a lot of therapy talk. Listen, I paid an absolute shit-ton of money for therapy over the years, and I’m going to make every penny count. 

So, shifting my thoughts toward positive things may be harder, for it will be me, but it will be better in the long run. I try to focus on my successes and wins. I dwell on travel memories and lessons I’ve learned over the years. How different I am at 36 than 26. Older, wiser, more botox, you know, the usual.

5 crazy solo female travel facts that will blow your mind

But some things stay the same: I’m an introvert, and I hate people. This means I’m still rocking the good old solo female travel lifestyle. To be honest, I don’t really see this ever changing. I love traveling on my own as much as I did 17 years ago when I boarded a one-way flight alone to Spain to study abroad for a year. In fact, I’ve solo traveled so hard for so long that I don’t even think of it as anything but just travel.

What I find fascinating is how the travel landscape has changed. I still used calling cards on pay phones to ring my family that year in Salamanca. I would travel by train, arrive in a new town, and just rock up to the information center and ask about hotels. No one had smartphones and actually had to ask people for directions. I can still remember the first time someone asked ME for directions in Spain in Spanish – felt like a dream come true to appear local even though I had zero idea of where they wanted to go.

Perhaps something I didn’t anticipate was that I found solo female travel in your thirties even more rewarding than when I was younger. Why? Because I’ve changed. After ruminating on this for a while, I’ve decided to pop down six reasons why solo female travel in your thirties is amazing. I’m curious if you agree with them. Enjoy!

1. Your confidence shines brighter than ever

One of the best benefits of getting older is that you start to give less fucks about so many things. A lifetime people-pleaser, it’s always been hard for me to say no. But the past few years have been amazing; I just don’t care as much as I used to. 

I can be direct with people in ways that were extremely difficult for me in my twenties. When I was trying to sell my car a few years ago, this guy was on the phone, borderline harassing me and telling me what to do, saying I knew nothing. Instead of waiting to wrap up the conversation, I just said, “I’m not enjoying this – goodbye,” and hung up. This may seem silly to some people, but for introverts, shy folk, and people who just hate conflict, it was a big deal. And standing up to men who demean me, talk over me, mansplain, or tell me what to do? That is starting to feel really good. 

Learning to be more direct and not being as afraid of rejection in whatever capacity is empowering. This carries over beautifully with solo female travel in your thirties. Traveling on your own as a woman can be scary. You probably haven’t honed your bullshit radar or learned to trust your instincts over being polite. But in your thirties? “Sir, I’ve already paid you twenty bucks to ride this camel around the Pyramids. I’m not paying you more. Period.”

God, I can’t wait til I’m 70, and I can just boss people around left, right, and center with zero fucks to give.

2. Your bank account looks way better

I want to preface this by saying you probably have more money in your thirties than in your twenties. I’m sure some people don’t. In fact, at one point in my thirties, I had negative money for quite a while. But for the rest of you guys who know how to live within your means, this is for you. 

When I first started backpacking and traveling on my own at 19, I was cheap for a long time. I had to be. My jobs paid me between $5.85 and $7 an hour in the US. Yes, multiple jobs. And also, being at university when I somehow thought it was a good idea to go to a school where a four-year degree costs $200,000. I say this with privilege, but I think it’s safe to assume that many of us by our thirties have managed to sock some money away and have better jobs and, hopefully, a smaller student loan debt.

Finally, gone are my years of staying in 15-bed hostels and sleeping on airport floors. I will pay more for better seats on flights or even upgrades (travel is my work, remember), I don’t fly shitty budget airlines if I can help it, and I’ll take Ubers over public transport. 

However, I did just get horrific food poisoning from my business class breakfast on my LATAM flight home from South America. So fancier doesn’t always mean better, though I will say it is much nicer to spew your guts out in the private bathrooms in airport lounges. 

3. Your tastes in *literally* everything have improved (or evolved)

Wine. Food. Travel destinations. Style. Men. I can guarantee that your taste has improved across the board. This likely goes hand in hand with your financial situation improving too. Did I really used to wear dresses over jeans, with my hardcore side part fringe and pierced lip? My Facebook albums from 2007 sure show that I did. Last time I was in America I walked into an Urban Outfitters and then immediately walked right back out.

I remember studying abroad in Spain, and we used to drink Don Simón red wine in a box that cost one euro. Now for me, food culture has become one of my favorite parts of travel. I love exploring places through food. And good food does not always mean more expensive. I will sit on a bucket and devour street soups in Hong Kong just as much as I enjoyed a degustation lunch at Lung King Hee, the first Chinese restaurant in the world to receive three Michelin stars at the Four Seasons. What’s NOT great is that I can’t eat like I did in my twenties; such a bummer.

Even my taste in destinations has changed. I used to want to backpack and move as much as possible. I didn’t get to travel as a kid, and as soon as I could pay my own way, I went far and wide. Nowadays, Ibiza, Mykonos, and Las Vegas don’t really appeal to me anymore. Even though many cities aren’t as appealing, I’d rather stay in small towns or in the countryside. I suppose this is more of an evolution, not necessarily improving taste, but you get the drift.

4. Slowing down, mindfulness, and self-care matter

With age comes wisdom (allegedly), like jumping off a very high bridge in Slovenia in your twenties (omg, this is an adventure of a lifetime!) to in my thirties, where I reflect and think, wow, that was wildly unsafe. Nowadays, I like to slow down, go on a big hike or tramp, and challenge myself in other ways that are equally fulfilling in my thirties.  

My definition of self-care while traveling in my twenties was staying in the same hotel for more than one night and not eating instant noodles for breakfast. Instead of wanting to see everything, I now like to take it slow and base myself in one place. I even love to return to places I’ve been before that I loved so I can dig a little deeper. Solo female travel in your thirties is great because it taught me to be more mindful in every way.

I’m also way more aware of my presence and impact now when I’m traveling versus when I was younger. You know, simple things like following rules.  

5. Shifting priorities and no more discotecas

Gone are the days of “bartender, can I please order your strongest, cheapest drink?” I bet the things that interested you in your twenties while traveling are not the same as those in your thirties. In my twenties, I wanted to tick every single adventure off my bucket list. I just wanted to go full throttle.

Skydiving in Switzerland? Diving with sharks. Backpacking through Southeast Asia. Remember Vang Vieng in Laos? Or how about Thailand? I can still remember doing my advanced diving course in Koh Tao and waking up so hungover the next morning (and not in my room – oops) that I almost puked in my regulator and couldn’t finish the dives for the day. Shame, shame, shame. 

Nowadays, my priorities have shifted from parties, boys, and going big to birdwatching, spas, and yelling at people to turn the music down after 8 pm. While I travel for the same reasons: curiosity, experience, and adventure, my definitions of those things are no longer the same. Solo female travel in your thirties has really evolved into specific experiences that usually involve fine wine tasting.

 6. You realize that those cheap 6 am flights are never worth it. Don’t do it.

Enough said.

The post Solo female travel in your thirties? It’s so much better than you think appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Frost was already starting to settle on the cars parked along my street in Lake Hāwea last night when I bundled up to head out and look for the Southern Lights. It only gets this level of bone cold when the skies are perfectly clear around Central Otago. White walker weather that sometimes heralds a rare hoarfrost. Remember, we’re going into winter down here in New Zealand.

I really struggled with summing up the energy to go out for some astrophotography. With the super short days at the moment combined with a vicious polar front ripping through, my couch, blanket, and sheepskin hot water bottle were all particularly inviting. And I was already in my pajamas. But then I did the old guilt trip. I’m lucky to live where I am, so far south in New Zealand and away from city lights. I needed to get my ass up and moving. 

In my driveway, even with bright street lights overhead, I could already see the skies glowing. Oh shit, this was going to be good!

For ten years, I’ve chased the Southern Lights in New Zealand, obsessed with their magic. Growing up on the urban east coast of the US, we never saw clear skies like we do at 44°S, population: a handful.

I can still remember the first time I saw the galactic core of the Milky Way here, and I was floored. And when I first saw the aurora australis illuminate the skies above Lake Wānaka for the first time in 2015? My mind was blown. And second, to last night, it was the best display I’d ever seen here. The only difference is about $10,000 in camera equipment and a hell of a lot more experience on my part.

Inspired by stories like His Dark Materials (which prompted my first journey to Svalbard and a lifelong love for polar places), I’ve long been obsessed with our night skies. Even with all our knowledge today, auroras still remain enigmas, captivating just about everyone. Portal to another world? Who knows.

Beam me up; I’m tired of it here.

Auroras in the southern hemisphere are different from those in the northern hemisphere in a few key ways, especially in New Zealand. When I’ve seen the Northern Lights dance, I was at much higher latitudes than their southern counterparts. I’m talking Arctic Circle latitudes above 66° N. Bright, colorful, and dramatic, they dance in every direction and overhead.

Now keep in mind that the opposite, 66° S, is basically Antarctica, which means there are only like five people who get to see the aurora there in winter. Remember, at these far-flung latitudes, there aren’t a lot of dark hours in the summer when tourists visit. Auroras happen all the time, but we can only see them in the dark.

New Zealand only really gets down to 47° S, which means that we see the aurora further away in the distance on the southern horizon, not over our heads. It’s much fainter here; usually, sometimes, we can see a glow or beams of soft light on a good showing with the naked eye, but mostly, you need a camera with a long shutter speed to capture the full colors here. 

Except on Saturday night when the sky was lit up like a Christmas tree, and you could see EVERYTHING in EVERY direction. Even our phones captured amazing photos and videos because it was so bright. 

I’ve been getting so many questions about how to see and/or photograph the aurora that it really warrants its own post. I’ll get to it eventually, haha. And remember, asking when to see an aurora is like asking when there will be a rainbow. I can’t tell you; it depends on the forecasts, weather, locations, light pollution, etc.

But in the meantime, here are my flash tips and things to know for trying to see it now:

1.  You need it to be as dark as possible to see them, usually an hour or so after sunset when the skies have gone fully dark. You also need to get away from as much light pollution as possible, so avoid cities and bright lights. Full moons are bright and can hamper viewing, too. Clouds as well, obviously
2.  Be mindful of others out – keep your own lights to a minimum so your eyes can adjust to the dark, like turn off your car headlights as soon as you arrive at a spot and keep your phone or torches to a minimum and turn off quickly
3.  The further south you are, the better chance you have of seeing the New Zealand aurora. Usually, you need to be looking southward to see them, too – use the compass app on your phone 
4.  Try looking in advance for a good viewing spot. If mountains directly south of you might be in the way, climb them or move further away from them so they don’t block the southern horizon
5.  Join some of the FB groups for aurora forecasting where you live for tips and predictions – read through many posts to learn
6.  But don’t ask questions like, “Where can I see the aurora in Auckland?” Take some initiative and reread steps one through five to figure out a location that works for you (I get it, but it’s also a total pet peeve of mine across all manners of things – try and do a little work yourself first)
7.  You’ll need a tripod to capture the aurora on a camera, but new phones now are pretty good at capturing at night skies. On iPhones you can swipe up to change the shutter speed to slow it down to capture the skies. It’ll only catch the aurora well if it’s pretty bright
8.  With a camera, you want to use your widest lens possible with the lowest aperture possible. I shoot with a 16-35mm f/2.8 lens. Pick a star and manually focus your lens on it. I crank my ISO super high and use a few seconds of shutter speed to figure out my framing, and then I start to play. Saturday’s aurora was so bright I was shooting on one-second exposures IYKYK
9. Be patient. Aurora showings come and go, burn brighter and soften, dance around and move. I usually spend hours watching them; it’s always changing. Dress warm and bring chocolate 
10.  Sit back, put your phone and camera away, and soak it in. Save it for the memory book

My favorite part of this most recent aurora was that so many people around the world got to see it. How incredible is that? We’re facing some fairly shitty times, and being united by our beautiful planet if only for a night, was pretty special.

I spent hours watching the skies dance, stars twinkling, and Elon Musk’s satellites occasionally popping by to say hello. It was the best aurora I’ve ever seen in New Zealand. This was the first time I saw the lights move around overhead here and in every direction, beyond just southward.

How special. How memorable. It was just the kind of experience I deeply craved to get excited about photography again.

How was the aurora in your part of the world? Share!

The post All eyes on New Zealand’s most spectacular aurora in decades appeared first on Young Adventuress.

You know, I’m talking about solid, unflappable folk. The Type A humans of the world. I think many of us have friends with personalities that just stay on top of their shit. Like anything that comes their way, they can accept it gracefully, even if it’s bad. Productive, reasonable people with only one window open with one tab at a time on their computers. 

Yeah, I’m not one of those people. Never have been. 

I’m messy, emotional, and thrive in chaos. I know it, and I own it. And while it only took me 35 years to reluctantly accept this about myself, it feels really good to know who you really are more than always feeling like you’re not good enough. Please note the *reluctantly,* as I still have to remember to be kind to myself all the time. Self-love is a work in progress, I guess. 

As I reflect on who I am now, I’ve started to accept that I’m a big empath, and I feel everything, often deeply. I’m a solid INFP-T on the old personality test. And you know what, it’s not a bad thing?

Part of me believes that being this way contributes to my writing, creativity, and work. I’m a dreamer and an eternal optimist. I’m not perfect, and I hope I don’t appear effortless online. I regularly share hard things, my hurts, my struggles, and fuck ups, along with my wins. It’s always been important for me to share the full, glorious, messy story. I’m a blogger of the people. Feel free to remind me when I forget. 

Whether your heart’s broken, or you’ve lost a parent, or someone stole your work, or you’ve royally fucked up, or you’re just plain sad, I know how you feel. Those moments in life that bring you to your knees, I’ve been there weeping on the ground too. You’re not alone. I know what it feels like. And I’ve shared it all in the hopes it makes you all feel less alone. It’s certainly not easy to write publicly about these things.

Growing and evolving have always been important to me. I will always strive to be a better person.

But one thing I’ve always struggled with is letting go. Sticky, difficult situations often trap me far longer than what’s good for me. As a high-functioning yet highly anxious person, I regularly let negative thoughts spiral out of control or allow them to take up way too much space in my brain. Anyone else? 

Underneath my exterior is often a swirling shitstorm of emotions. Few things are effortless for me, and many mundane things no one else thinks about will stress me out for days. To truly let certain things go, I must drag myself kicking and screaming to the precipice or even trick myself into dropping it. 

I’m a dreamer and letting go of dreams, for whatever reason, is challenging. Of course, once you let go, you feel infinitely better. But man, getting there is so hard. And it’s so easy to fall into despair instead.

Time really does heal everything

The past year has forced me to face things I would have happily avoided indefinitely. I’ve had to learn to accept deeply unfair things and let go of dreams in order to better care for myself. Of course, it seemed to happen all at once, too. Thank you, universe.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more tired in my entire life than I have been this past year. And not from a few bad sleeps. I mean serious, long-term fatigue. I’ve been running for so long, living in full-panic mode, forgetting that the body keeps score. There’s so much trauma I’ve been hiding for such a long time.

Having a heart attack. Losing a parent. Losing a close friend. Crazy family stuff I can’t talk about. Depression. Severe anxiety. Closing a business. Failure of a big relationship. Financial failure. A pandemic. An unjust lawsuit. I mean, it’s a hell of a lot. I’m sure so many of you guys can relate. As soon as the pandemic calmed down (however you define that), we just went right back to where we left off, processing nothing that happened to us. 

Since returning to New Zealand after unexpectedly closing NODE down, working in the Arctic and Antarctic, and wrapping up older work things, I feel like I can deep breathe again. But my body just freaked out. After returning to my home in Hāwea, I slept for a week straight, and when I tried to work to do anything, I royally fucked it up. I got times wrong and info wrong and forgot everything. Some of this brain fog still lingers.

Bessel van der Kolk’s magnificent book, The Body Keeps Score, talks about the complex impacts of trauma.

“In order to change, people need to become aware of their sensations and the way that their bodies interact with the world around them. Physical self-awareness is the first step in releasing the tyranny of the past.”

As I try to move on and confront things I really don’t want to confront, as I let myself relax and not live in a state of fear and panic anymore, my body is like, WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!? A fundamental change of the self would never be easy, I guess. I’m actively trying to process these huge, heavy things instead of shoving them under the rug.

Deep down, I know that for me to move forward, I’ve got to accept and let go of painful things. We can do hard things, eh? Here are some of the major things I’ve had to learn to let go of the past year. 

Letting go of business goals

One of the hardest things I’ve ever done is close my houseplant shop, NODE. 

I opened NODE, a designer houseplant shop in Lyttelton, during the pandemic when our borders were shut. My travel work disappeared overnight, and I wanted to create a happy, joyful space for people who loved indoor plants, my biggest hobby. There is an insane demand in New Zealand for houseplants – I regularly sold rare plants for over $500 a pop! It even got me my first book deal. 

But it was all tied to a life tumbling down around me. I had moved to Lyttelton for love, leaving Wānaka behind. I opened NODE in the same small building as my partner; we shared it. When we broke up, I couldn’t stay there and be face-to-face with my old life every day. But NODE, as a physical shop, needed me there full-time. I slowly abandoned it. 

I struggled so hard with what to do. I let it drag on for over a year, commuting five hours between Wānaka and Christchurch every few weeks, before I finally came to terms with the fact my life had changed drastically, and my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I couldn’t do the business justice. I had the whole brand, including the physical shop, for sale for a while, but in the end, I had to make a snap decision just to close the physical premises and relist it as an online store. I should have done that first. I should have done it a year earlier.

Superficially, it feels like a failure. NODE was meant to be my nest egg, my work for years and years, and it was cut off at the knees. It was successful and made so many people happy. It made me happy. I loved living in Lyttelton and being by the sea – I would have easily continued a life there. But circumstances change, often out of our control. In the two weeks I spent closing up, I had a bus hit my car in Christchurch, and then all of my things were stolen out of the hire car. I don’t believe in signs, not really, but that was the final straw. I was done with this city.

Letting go was incredibly hard and took me so long. But once I did, it was like I was 100 pounds lighter.

Some people just suck

I know this sounds SO naive, but I learned a really hard lesson that there are just bad people in the world. I knew this already, obviously, but I didn’t have to face it firsthand in such a punch-in-the-face way as I did last year. I’ll try to keep this brief.

Two years ago, I hired a young girl on a casual contract to help pack online orders for me at NODE. In New Zealand, this means they work as needed with no guaranteed ongoing work. She worked for me for about a month, a few hours weekly, depending on how many boxes needed packing as orders came in. We then had a super dry spell, so we didn’t have hours for her for a while.

A month later, she hired a no-win-no-fee lawyer and filed an official employment grievance against me, saying I unjustifiably dismissed her and that she should have actually had a part-time contract (with benefits). Therefore, she was seeking tens of thousands of dollars in damages and lost wages. She escalated this up the official ladder for nearly a year, refusing to drop it, each time asking for more and more money. In the end, it got up to her asking for $26,000 plus her perceived lost wages, plus her legal fees, and also two separate financial penalties for me. Bear in mind that she only earned around $1,000 the whole time she worked for me, and I only met her once briefly. 

We had a hearing scheduled that I flew back from the Arctic early to attend, my only chance of potentially getting some of my own costs back. Then, she dropped the case the week before the court hearing. The amount of money I spent on lawyers, appearing at mediations, paperwork and the chance to potentially earn back some of my legal fees over a year—poof—gone. 

What a piece of work.

This happens all the time in New Zealand; she essentially was extorting me for money and would have taken a smaller payout from me to make this go away. The mental toll this took on me was tremendous – I had high blood pressure for a year, and this kept me awake more nights than I care to remember.

I just couldn’t understand how there were people like this out there; it’s not something that would ever even enter my mind to do. Many of her legal documents had dozens of bullet points telling me how I was a horrible person who ruined her life and made her afraid ever to work again. It’s awful to read that about yourself, especially in a legal setting. It couldn’t have come at a worse time; I was so broke, hanging on a thread, and having to borrow money to deal with this.

I have no problem admitting I’m wrong; if I mishandled this, I would have paid up and negotiated. But I followed the law perfectly, and I was still fucked. Why do we even have contracts if they don’t protect you? There’s a lot more I could discuss, and I have all the receipts; the judge even told her she had no case multiple times, but suffice it to say this was a big part of my decision to close my physical shop. There was no way I could trust hiring a new employee again, and I couldn’t rely on contracts to protect myself. 

I cried. I seethed. I raged. I was going to write about her, name and shame her. I wanted to show everyone what she was doing to me and warn others what she was like. But in the end, as hurt and angry as I was, I knew I had to let it go. The truth is that I feel sorry for her. What a sad, miserable existence. As someone who has long struggled with my mental health, I know what it is to feel so low. She fucked me up for a year, but she’s fucking up her own life indefinitely. At the end of the day, I pity people like this.

In the scheme of things, it could have been so much worse. I know I’ve been lucky not to have been whipped by the legal system in my life so far. But you know what? It still really, really hurt. I worked so hard to build such a strong, solid team at my shop, a safe space where we literally can talk about anything. We’re all still tight friends, too. But man, I missed the mark with this girl. There was nothing I could have done differently, so I had to learn to just let it go. There are shitty, manipulative people out there, and it is what it is. The ultimate lesson in learning to let go.

Coming to terms with my career

Over the past two years, I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating the current state of the social media landscape. And the truth is, I wasn’t loving it.

I started this blog in 2010 to keep track of my adventures and to help and inspire others. By 2013, I was blogging full-time and really embracing Instagram and other social media. I was one of the biggest and most well-known creators worldwide, leading the pack. I helped turn Instagram into a job in New Zealand before most brands were even on the platform. I crafted conferences teaching people how to turn online storytelling into a business. I loved it. 

But I’ve grown, and so has this world, and sometimes I wonder if I even fit in it anymore. I don’t want to dance for clicks or make jokes for likes. I’ve always considered myself someone who digs deeper (in the least pretentious way possible). I write 3,000-word articles all the time. I go in-depth with my stories. I use big words and complex syntax that Grammarly hates. I make real connections and hope that I don’t share crap just for the sake of posting crap. 

A lot of social media feels superficial to me; influencers post ads for the most random things every day. It feels disjointed and ungenuine; yes, I know I’m making sweeping generalizations here. Every collab I take on (and I don’t take on many), I spend so much time and energy putting together projects with real impact, creating valuable content that I hope inspires others to care about it, too. If I promoted something and no one bought it or clicked on it, I would be horrified. 

Then, I went through a period where I was getting turned down on projects I knew I was perfect for. Hell, sometimes I wouldn’t even get replies. Ultimately, it made me reevaluate what I wanted with my work and where I wanted to go with it. To be honest, sometimes I don’t want to be an influencer; I certainly never identified with that word. 

I love writing, storytelling, growing and guiding, sharing, and inspiring others. I want to write more books and work with sustainability—and conservation-forward brands long-term. I had to let go of who I thought I was as a big fish to embrace the unknown for the future. It was terrifying yet liberating.

Starting work as a polar guide

One of the greatest things about letting go of things that weigh you down is that it frees up space for many other things. Sometimes, you have to learn to let go of the idea of who you were to embrace who you want to be. Damn, did I just write that? Sounds like something you’d see printed on the side of an inspirational mug. “You got this, b*tch!”

While I was letting the threads of my old life as a houseplant hawker and travel influencer come apart, I was also opening myself up to the secret dream I’ve always wanted: to be a polar guide. 

I traveled on expedition ships to the polar world for nearly eight years as media before I finally stood up and made guiding happen. Imposter syndrome is real, guys. But when I was hosting a group of amazing people in Antarctica a few years ago, I realized I loved teaching and sharing these places. I wanted to be part of the expedition team. Now, I’ve spent five months working as a guide in the Arctic and Antarctic, and I don’t plan on stopping.

I’ve had to learn to let go of the idea that I wasn’t good enough or couldn’t do it or that it would be too hard. Spoiler alert – it’s really hard – but so worth it. Can’t stop me now!

Losing a close friend

Guys, this one is so hard to write. The long farewell. 

About two years ago, a close friend of mine, someone I lived with for years and years, was diagnosed with cancer. They gave her a year. Omg, I can’t even write this without sobbing; writing about someone you love in the past tense is just. so. hard. 

We all have to face big, adult, scary life lessons. And guys, death is the hardest one. While I experienced sudden loss when my stepdad passed away during the pandemic, the slow goodbye was new for me. Watching someone you love waste away 40 years before their time was a whole different type of grief. It was the first time I lost a close friend.

When she first passed away, I found myself so upset and angry. It was so unfair. She was sunshine incarnate with a hilarious, cynical side. She was a really great person who helped shape me (and others) so many times without me even realizing it. She was a rock, a rainbow, with grace and an unmatched personality. When she lived past her one-year cancer anniversary, she had a cake made that said, “Not dead yet.”

There are so many awful people in the world. Why her? To be honest, I don’t think loss is something you ever let go of. Rather, you learn to endure it. A quiet acceptance that life can be bloody unfair. 

Looking forward 

It’s funny when I look at the state of my affairs. One way of looking at it was that I lost everything. My breakup and decision to close NODE cost me every penny I had and more. Everything I put into them was gone. But you know what? I couldn’t be happier. 

Isn’t that wild? The weight of all the negativity, the unkind stories I told myself, the toxicity of things in your life that should disappear once you let it go, holy shit, is it liberating. I’ve been close to rock bottom a few times and always managed to claw my way out by my fingernails. And I’m doing it again. 

The pain that accompanies so many of these worries, once you face it, it gets easier. I’ve had to learn to let go of so many fundamental things this past year, and yet I am really happy. I feel free. I feel hopeful. I know who I am and have a vague idea of who I want to be down the track. And I’ll get there eventually. 

The post A year of learning to let go appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Way back whent, I was blogging full-time and could live anywhere. After my lease ended in Wellington, I headed south. Preferring the chiller Wānaka to Queenstown, I ended up settling here. It was an easy place to fall in love with. It still is.

The 10 most Instagrammable spots in Wānaka

Like so many expats who settle here, I came for a little while and just never left. Well, I did move to Lyttelton (Christchurch) for a couple of years during COVID, you know, for love, but I’m trying to forget that. As soon as things went tits up, I ran straight back into the arms of all my friends in Wānaka. Home.

While my feelings for Wānaka have become more complicated over the years, and I’m still reconciling myself with them, it still feels like home to me. Don’t get me wrong; I love it here. But Wānaka’s changed so much over the past decade, growing and expanding rapidly, just like so many resort towns worldwide. 

Truthfully? I’m mostly disillusioned with the cost. The average house costs around $1.5 million today, which has changed the town’s vibe. I’ve never owned a home before, and I don’t really see how I could ever afford my first house to be here. It’s $175 to fill up my car. One bag of groceries is $100. Lunch is $30. It’s really hard to get ahead. Recently, I was in Melbourne, and it was cheaper than Wānaka!

Anyways, New Zealand is officially in a recession. I also know this is just how things work. Towns grow, especially beautiful ones. As I reflect back on these ten years, my heart fills with emotion. While I’m unsure I’ll be here forever, Wānaka definitely buried under my skin and has become a big part of me.

Here are ten of the many reasons I fell in love with Wānaka.

1. The epic landscape and mindboggling views

Ok, I’m going to be honest here. Wanaka could have a million things going for it (and it does), but one will always top all the rest: it’s insanely beautiful. Like, it doesn’t look real kind of beautiful. This is why people pay millions of dollars to live here. And why young people will live in their cars for the chance to spend time here. 

You’ve seen it all over social media. No matter where you walk outside, you have a beautiful view of the mountains. Right next door to a national park and nestled along a pristine blue lake with even bigger mountains as the backdrop, it’s no surprise that we all are wooed by her beauty. You can’t take a bad photo here. You can’t.

You’re never far from an amazing hike or outdoor adventure in Wānaka. A mecca for outdoor enthusiasts as well as curious travelers, you couldn’t ask for a more picturesque backdrop.

9 day hikes in Wanaka that should be on your bucketlist

2. Small-town vibes for real

Even though the population here in Wānaka has doubled in the decade I’ve lived here, it still exudes small-town vibes. A kind and friendly place (also very wealthy); you’ll always see people you know when you go out. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows your name, from the postie to friends of friends to your barista. It’s wonderful but also makes dating hard and somewhat incestuous.

Crime is never on anyone’s mind in Wānaka; it’s the kind of place where you can leave your wallet and phone on a cafe table, and it’ll still be there when you come back. In fact, our weekly news bulletin, The Messenger, has a Crimestoppers column written up by the local constable, and it’s generally hilarious. Firstly, because the “crimes” a often not even crimes, like the one time the police went to the local petrol station at night to inspect an alarm going off and accidentally set off the anti-burglar fog canon on themselves. 

Or the fact that they love to share their own thoughts and opinions on the crimes themselves: “Now you’d choke on your cornflakes if you saw how many crashes we’ve had on our roads over the past two weeks. I won’t bore you with the list, but we’ll share a couple. Oh, to be a tow truck driver…”

Love it.

3. You’re surrounded by adventures

One of the first things I noticed while living in Wanaka was that there is no shortage of adventure to be had here. And there is no shortage of badass adventurers, either.

The gateway to Mount Aspiring National Park, Wānaka, is the perfect base for those who love to spend their time outdoors. Established in 1964 and covering over 3,500 square kilometers, the national park sits at the bottom of the Southern Alps and sprawls towards the Haast Pass to the west coast, across to Glenorchy, and down to Fiordland. Lorded over by the perfect peak, Mount Aspiring/Tititea (3,033 meters) and many glaciers, it’s a beautiful place to explore. 

Whether you’re tramping in the mountains, sailing on the lake, skiing fresh powder, rock climbing down the valley, or mountain biking after work, Wānaka was made for the adventurous.

In many ways, adventure here is much more down to earth than in Queenstown. The hikes can be really hard and often not easy to access. If you want nature, you chuck on your boots and walk to it.

4. Every season is amazing

One of my favorite things about living in Wanaka is that we have four distinct seasons. Granted, they are reversed from the northern hemisphere but you get used to it. Christmas in the middle of summer is actually awesome. 

In autumn, everything turns red and gold. We have almost no native deciduous trees in New Zealand, and sadly, all of the natives were burned for farming once humans settled here. But because of all those farms, many other trees were introduced, like poplars and other old-school European trees. Also, there are tons of vineyards, so the landscape here pops with color come autumn (April). It’s one of the best places for fall foliage.

20 photos of autumn in New Zealand that will delight you

We have two epic ski fields nearby and snowy mountains in winter. Spring turns the landscape into a rainbow of colors, and our summers are super hot and dry, where everyone hangs out by clear blue lakes. Perfection.

5. Hāwea is actually the best

Is it weird that one of my favorite parts of Wānaka is Hāwea? A little suburb of Wānaka, Lake Hāwea is just fifteen minutes down the road towards the West Coast on another magical alpine lake. Spoiler alert – Lake Hāwea beats Lake Wānaka. I will die on this hill. Clearer and quieter, it is colder, but it’s so relaxed and beautiful. Sometimes, I’m the only person on the beach, as far as I can see.

A decade ago, Hāwea was just a little collection of baches (holiday houses) and home to the hippier hippies of Wānaka. Artsy, quiet, and creative, it seemed so far away back then. Now, many of the paddocks are being developed and turning into those cookie-cutter neighborhoods, a little more “affordable” at around a million dollars. It’s where all of my friends have moved to and built houses. 

I’ve lived in Hāwea for nearly two years now and love it. It is still really chill. We have a corner shop, and that’s about it. I take long walks daily and can easily stroll to my friends’ houses. In the summer I swim in the lake almost every day. It’s magic.

When I was working on a ship in the Arctic, I met a passenger who had an artist friend they met traveling living in Hāwea. They wrote him a letter and asked me to give it to him. I had no idea who he was. When I got home I posted the name of the person in our community Facebook group about it and found him to drop off the letter. Everyone loved the story. 

6. Work doesn’t define you

Wānaka is the kind of place where the people who live here really want to be here. You have to really want it to afford it. It attracts really creative, interesting, chill, and outdoorsy people, all united by a love of nature. Without the job opportunities of big cities, people just take whatever work they can get to continue living in Wanaka, even for a little bit. 

But what is so cool is that your passions and hobbies matter more than your job. Who you really are. No one really cares what your job is. I love that. 

I will say making friends in Wānaka isn’t super easy. A transitory town by nature; if locals think you’re only here traveling or seasonally, they might not bother with you. Harsh, I know. But once you’re in, you’re in. And one of the best ways to meet likeminded people here is getting involved with the outdoorsy stuff. There’s so much of it.

7. Epic ski fields nearby

By and large, Wānaka is a ski town. Cardrona and Treble Cone are two of New Zealand’s most iconic ski fields, and they are both next to Wānaka. Wintertime is just as busy as summertime here. It’s very much a resort town but not as super duper flashy, like Whistler. We also have great heliskiing too. 

We’re old school here and proud of it. There aren’t any big gondolas to carry you up to the top of the mountain. You have to drive up dirt roads to reach the ski fields, and there are only a few chairlifts at each. But it’s so amazing. Above the alpine layer, we have no trees, so the views out are spectacular. Also, surprisingly, we have the calmest weather in winter. Not a lot of wind. We get plenty of bluebird calm days in the sunshine.

Wānaka in the wintertime is really just perfect.

8. It’s close to all the best spots

One of the best parts of living in Wanaka is not just what’s around town but the fact that it’s so central to some of the best areas. Just over the hill, you’ve got the bigger hub of Queenstown with the main airport, plenty of single men, and, most importantly, Kmart. 

In addition to being surrounded by national parks, wine country around Central Otago is less than an hour’s drive away from Wānaka, with some of the best pinot noir around. Clyde, Cromwell, and Alexandra are easy to get to. We have two great ski fields within an easy drive, and Cardrona and Arrowtown are both cute stops on the way over the Crown Range to Queenstown.

The coast is only a few hours away, with most of us either bopping down to the Catlins or Riverton or heading over to the west coast for some sea air. Dunedin, the main city for our region, is three hours away.

9. It’s super cute and quirky

While development in Wānaka is booming, the great local haunts endure. Full of charm, history, and super quirky, they’re the places that make so many of us fall in love with living in Wanaka.

We have a huge fence covered in bras down the road at Cardrona. Not much more to it than that. The Cardrona Bra Fence has been going strong for decades, though occasionally pissing off locals enough that they rip them all off during the night only for them to reappear quickly.

Our local cinema, Cinema Paradiso, has comfy chairs, couches, and even a convertible car for watching the latest films. During intermission, they also serve freshly baked cookies. Puzzling World is a weird and beloved local attraction filled with optical illusions, deceptively hard mazes, and other deceptively hard puzzles. We also have a toy museum. 

Long live small, eccentric towns!

10. The clearest night skies

Finally, one of my favorite things about living in Wanaka has to be our clear night skies. Still remote compared to the rest of the world, we have little light pollution in and around Wānaka. This means that on clear nights, the stars are incredible—even in town. 

You can step outside your home at night and see the Milky Way. And if you’re lucky, we often have the aurora or Southern Lights dancing on the horizon.

Well damn. Writing this just made me fall in love with Wānaka all over again!

The post 10 years of living in Wānaka as an expat appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Iceland was only beginning to boom on the tourism map a decade ago. It was still pretty chill. Instagram was still new, and Iceland had yet to dominate it. I went with girlfriends, including a friend from Iceland, and we did a loop road trip. It was so much fun. It was also one of my first jobs as a full-time travel blogger, so it meant so much to me. 

This time around was completely different. Instead of flying in, we sailed over on their Scotland, The Faroe Islands, & Iceland: North Atlantic Saga trip, arriving by sea. All up, I spent about two weeks there with Adventure Canada on their Iceland Circumnavigation trip and then departing on their Iceland to Greenland: In the Wake of the Vikings trip. 

Iceland was a bit of a hub. And it was so exciting to explore it in a completely different way. 

There’s something special about visiting a place the old-fashioned way, the way it was originally settled. It’s thought that the Vikings settled in Iceland in the 9th century, but it might have been earlier.

Making their way across the North Atlantic, likely searching for arable land, the Norse came in their thousands, settling all over Iceland within a few decades. What’s interesting to learn that a lot of the genetic evidence includes Irish and Scottish ancestry in addition to Scandinavia, particularly, women. Most people believe they came as slaves. 

Following in the wake of the Vikings over a millennia later by ship is a spectacularly cool way to arrive in Iceland. 

Here’s a taste of what we go up to with 25 of my favorite photos from a couple of weeks exploring Iceland by sea – enjoy!

Curious about traveling to the Arctic?
Check out my trips and learn more here

Arnarstapi

One of our first stops in Iceland was to a place I had never been to before – the Snæfellsnes Peninsula in western Iceland. Somewhat off the beaten path, it’s a stunning corner of Iceland worth exploring. Arnarstapi is a cute little fishing village that sits as the gateway to the Snæfellsjökull National Park. 

I recognized where we were almost as soon as we stepped off the zodiacs in the harbor. With a cute white house perched on lava sea cliffs above turquoise water with a perfect volcano and glacier behind it, this was a view I had definitely seen before. It was on the cover of the only book I bought in Iceland (expensive).

Arnarstapi felt otherworldly immediately. It didn’t help that we had some of the wildest lenticular clouds I’ve ever seen, creating a moody ambiance that made it feel all the more magical. I spent my time wandering the sea cliffs, watching the bird colonies before meandering out to the lava fields. It definitely felt like you were on another planet. 

Dynjandifoss

From there, we made our way up along the coast into the Westfjords, an often overlooked place. One of the perks of traveling by ship is that you can often rock up to places that are much harder to reach by car. 

Dynjandi is the largest waterfall in the Westfjords, clocking in at 100 meters tall, with five waterfalls below it dropping down into the sea. While it’s remote, it can still become really busy with tour buses trekking out to visit. We called in early in the morning and had the whole place to ourselves for hours.

My first Iceland waterfall since 2013, I was struck by how much work has gone into creating infrastructure. I don’t remember paths or signs or blockades anywhere when I was here last. If you were dumb enough to sit on the edge of a waterfall, it was on you. And I sat on a lot of waterfall edges. 

Grímsey

The only place you can actually be within the Arctic Circle in Iceland is on the tiny island of Grímsey, off the northern coast. Sitting pretty at 66° N, Grímsey is pretty much ruled by birds. 

If you want to get your (visual) fill of puffins, Grímsey is the place to go. Somewhat hard to get to independently; it was great to be able to arrive by boat instead. Just watch out for nesting Arctic terns – they’re my new bird enemy. 

Arctic Iceland – visiting the island of birds on Grímsey

Siglufjörður

The northernmost town in Iceland is called Siglufjörður, and I had never heard of it. It ended up being one of my favorite spots in Iceland.

Going in with zero expectations, it was the sunniest, most beautiful weather when we arrived. The colorful, charming fishing town surrounded by mountains couldn’t have been more picturesque. Combined with a fascinating story and super friendly locals, Siglufjörður blew me away!

In the 1940s and 1950s, Siglufjörður was the herring capital of the North Atlantic; it was like a gold rush with fish. It’s since declined, but now there is one of the best museums I’ve ever been to, the Herring Era Museum, that shares the whole history. I know, a museum about fishing? But trust me, it’s fucking awesome, and it’s totally worth coming just for that.   

Akureyri

To visit Iceland by sea means we can visit traditional port towns the old-fashioned way, like Akureyri.

A beautiful little city in northern Iceland, Akureyri is a great place to base yourself out of, even for a day. It’s close to so many of the great wonders of the north, and it’s super cute all on its own. A great place for whale watching; one of the perks of traveling around by ship with Adventure Canada is the opportunity to watch for whales while onboard. When we left Akureyri and sailed out of the fiord at sunset, we were accompanied by whales the whole time. 

During the day, we explored outside the city, checking out Goðafoss, a super popular waterfall. I didn’t realize until we returned to the ship that I had been there before. We also spent some time exploring Dimmuborgir, home to some very cool lava fields, caves, and arches.

Seyðisfjörður

As we continued our Iceland circumnavigation, heading east, we landed in Seyðisfjörður, another off-the-beaten-track town. I’m not sure I would ever thought of coming here on my own, but it was just amazing. One of the earliest settled areas in Iceland, Seyðisfjörður is home to the little rainbow road that leads up to the church. 

We had another day of perfect weather and spent the morning way out on the fiord in Skálanes. Skálanes is a nature and heritage reserve. Luckily, the Arctic terns were only nesting by the carpark, so you only had to avoid them for a little bit, haha!

The reserve at Skálanes is an area of great biodiversity and is a center for study and research worldwide. There are nearly 50 bird species here, including a ton of puffins. There are also tons of reindeer, arctic foxes, and more than 80 archaeological sites.

Fjallsárlón and Jökulsárlón

The most popular place we took in on our visit to Iceland by sea was out near the Vatnajökull National Park, home to the iconic Fjallsárlón and Jökulsárlón glacier lagoons. 

We spent the morning on a boat tour around the lesser-known Fjallsárlón, taking in the beautiful icebergs and glaciers in the distance. It was another perfect bluebird day, not a cloud in sight. 

We ended up having enough time that we also called in Jökulsárlón too. En route to the ship, we saw reindeer and arctic foxes, making it a perfect day. 

Heimaey

Wow, another top contender for a new favorite spot in Iceland had to be Heimaey. I had never heard of this little spot in the Westman Islands; I’m not sure I would have thought to come out here on a traditional Iceland road trip. But it was so great we called in by ship as a way to visit Iceland by sea.

The zodiac cruise into the harbor was amazing, and we happened to time it when the prime minister was in town for the 50-year memorial of the ending of the Eldfell volcano eruption here. In the middle of the night in the summer of 1973, the local volcano erupted without warning. Luckily, bad weather had kept the boats in the harbor overnight, so everyone could escape. Eventually, half the town was buried, and locals fought the spreading lava by spraying it with seawater, saving parts of it, including the harbor. 

Today, you can see parts of houses emerging in the lava field, and the views from the top of the volcano are amazing. Definitely worth the climb up. 

Reykjavík

I was so excited to return to Reykjavík. Wow, the city has changed a lot in the decade since my last visit. It was so modern, with so many new spots and a lot of development happening.

I spent a few hours while in port, wandering around and soaking it all in. I went back to my favorite cafe from the last time I was here, the Laundromat, as well as finally going to the infamous penis museum. As a long-time fan of the weird, gross, and morbid, even I was not into it. 

Everywhere else was amazing, especially the waterfront. I definitely need to spend more time here soon. To visit Iceland by sea is an unforgettable way to take in this popular country.

Have you been to Iceland? Would you consider visiting by ship? Spill!

Curious about traveling to the Arctic? Sailing from Iceland to Greenland? Check out my trips and learn more here

Many thanks to Adventure Canada for hosting me in Iceland – like always, I’m keeping it real – all opinions are my own, like you could expect less from me!

The post 25 photos to inspire you to visit Iceland by sea appeared first on Young Adventuress.

I never thought I’d say this, but I found a bird I hate. 

It was a moody, beautiful day when we landed on Grímsey on our Iceland Circumnavigation expedition trip. A little island 40 kilometers north of Iceland, the only part of Iceland that sits within the Arctic Circle at 66° North. The rest of Iceland sits just below the Arctic Circle. 

This is probably the main draw card for those visiting Grímsey, but I’m just here for nature and the birds.

I also love visiting off-the-beaten-path locations, and in a country as popular as Iceland, those can be hard to find. Rest assured, Grímsey is still pretty far off the grid. The great part about exploring Iceland by sea with Adventure Canada is that we can rock up almost anywhere, disembark with zodiacs, and explore on the water anytime. That’s infinitely harder to do if you’re traveling independently. 

Curious about traveling to the Arctic?
Check out my trips and learn more here

And let me say that tourism has changed drastically in the decade since I last visited Iceland. Luckily, with the ship, we could actually plan to be in places when they were quiet or avoid clashing when other large cruise ships were in port. We often had spectacular places all to ourselves. And this was definitely the case with Grímsey.

Grímsey is wild and beautiful. With steep cliffs covered in nesting seabirds and puffins to rolling green hills to the most perfect Wes Anderson orange lighthouse, Grímsey is like something straight out of a travel guidebook but without the tourists.

But I will always remember Grímsey as the place where I got bonked on the head four times by Arctic terns – my new bird enemy. 

Not once, but FOUR TIMES!!! What the hell!

Now listen, guys. I’m enough of a bird nerd to know that most birds become aggressively protective when nesting. That’s normal. And since I adhere to the no interference rule, I don’t generally go anywhere near nesting birds. Adventure Canada is exactly the same – leave no impact on nature. Just observe respectfully.

But Arctic terns take this to a whole new level. It doesn’t help that they nest on the ground, and there are millions of them.

Grímsey is home to one of the largest breeding colonies of Arctic terns in Iceland. And they’re inescapable. Mating for life, they nest wherever they want, alongside the main (and only) road. About 55 people live on Grimsey. And to get anywhere, you can’t escape the terns.

I opted to check out the lighthouse and the beautiful bird cliffs, accessed by the main road. It was an amazing walk, minus one section where you had to run for your life past all of the terns who made it their mission to divebomb everyone. It’s why I don’t have any photos from that particular stretch of road. 

Arctic terns actually hold the world record for the longest migration of any animal in the world. Traveling over 70,000 kilometers on average twice yearly, Arctic terns migrate between their summer breeding grounds in the Arctic to the austral summer in Antarctica. 

The average arctic tern can live to be over 30 years old and will travel the equivalent of over three round trips from Earth to the Moon during its lifetime. Pretty impressive.

And if you can look past the fact they might try to bop you on the head repeatedly, they are beautiful birds. Elegant with long wings and forked tails, their silhouette makes them easily identifiable. 

There are plenty of other beautiful birds to be found on Grimsey, as well as some large breeding colonies of sea birds. Here in the summertime, you’ll find plenty of black-legged kittiwakes, puffins, razorbills, and guillemots.

In fact, seabirds outnumber humans on Grimsey at around 10,000 to one. There are also no foxes on the island, which makes it particularly safe for nesting birds. The best season for birdwatching here is from April to August.

For me, I really enjoyed watching the large colonies of puffins around the island. I could watch them for hours. Tiny and cute, puffins were just about everywhere. Seeing them plopped down amongst the flowers was ridiculously cute. I’m still trying to get the shot of one with a beak full of fish, but man, it’s hard! I think I need a bigger telephoto lens. The talented photographer on board with us, Steve Rose, managed to get the puffin shot, though!

Stepping within the Arctic Circle is pretty high on the bucket list for some travelers, and Grimsey is the only place in Iceland where you can do that. 

The Arctic Circle runs through the little island, though I found it fascinating that it shifts northward year to year. By the middle of the 21st century, it’s expected that the Arctic Circle will no longer pass through Grimsey. So now’s your chance.

For the rest of the group that didn’t feel like getting bird PTSD, they walked in the other direction on Grímsey to see the iconic monument “Orbis et Globus,” a three-meter, eight-ton stone sphere that marks the location of the Arctic Circle on the island. Because it’s a sphere, it gets moved every year in line with the changes in the Arctic Circle. 

When I reflect on all of the amazing places I was able to visit in Iceland, Grímsey sits high among my faves. A silent underdog, the quiet beauty of Grímsey combined with epic birdlife made it unforgettable. 

While the Arctic tern has officially moved down on the list of birds I love, it was still pretty incredible to see them in large colonies – from a distance. 

Have you heard of Grímsey? Is this a place you’d like to visit in Iceland? Share. 

Curious about traveling to the Arctic?
Check out my trips and learn more here

Many thanks to Adventure Canada for hosting me in Iceland – like always, I’m keeping it real – all opinions are my own, like you could expect less from me!

The post Arctic Iceland – visiting the island of birds on Grímsey appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Life in the far north revolves around the sea ice in every single way. In fact, in Inuktitut and other Inuit dialects all across the Arctic, there are usually at least 100 words for snow and ice. Thick sea ice that lasts for years. The ice crystals that form on the sea just before it freezes. Snow that can be used to ice the sled’s runner. Ice that breaks after its strength has been tested with a harpoon.

Ice is life in the far north. In the summertime, ice dictates where we can go on expedition ships, too. While a lot of sea ice melts in the warmer months, not all. The wind and the tides move the sea ice all around, often blocking in bays and harbors. The thickness and ability to move in it in different types of ships is a real skill. Learning to read these charts is something I’d love to learn. Our ship, the Ocean Endeavour, has a 1B ice class rating, which means it can navigate moderate sea but also might need to rely on an icebreaker.

While I was at sea with Adventure Canada in the Arctic last summer, a real highlight was the sea ice. And there’s nowhere better to see it than in Baffin Bay.

Curious about traveling to the Arctic?
Check out my trips and learn more here

Baffin Bay is a huge stretch of marginal sea between west Greenland and Baffin Island in Canada. Situated above the 70° North parallel, Baffin Bay spans an area of nearly 700,000 square kilometers. And it’s nearly always frozen solid and chocked full of icebergs. Ships cannot pass through in the winter.

I spent a lot of time in Baffin Bay this past summer. Most of Adventure Canada’s Arctic expedition trips pass through or along Baffin Bay at one point or another. 

Baffin Bay is a great place to see the iconic sea ice, and we often had to travel along the edges of the pack ice looking for ways through or for paths to open up. I didn’t sleep much on these days because the pack ice is one of the best spots to look for polar bears as they hunt here. 

We crossed Baffin Bay between Greenland and Canada a few times, and each trip was magical. And the water was dead calm.

Sea ice often brings down the swells and waves, making it flat. We sometimes stopped in the bay and unloaded the zodiacs to cruise through the pack ice looking for wildlife. Often, the water was like glass, even in the middle of the bay. It was particularly beautiful when fog and mists would move in and out, creating an ethereal feeling. 

In the summertime, part of Baffin Bay opens up in the north called North Water, and it’s a polynya (an area of open water surrounded by sea ice) that is around 80,000 square kilometers. It’s really important for its biodiversity; here, in this little microclimate, you’ll find some of the most iconic Arctic animals, such as seals, seabirds, polar bears, walrus, narwhal, beluga, and bowhead whales. 

We saw them all.

Baffin Bay connects the Labrador Sea and the Davis Strait with the Atlantic Ocean.

First, the Thule and later the Inuit inhabited this area for thousands of years. During their explorations, there is evidence that the Norse also arrived. There are still settlements along the bay today. 

The first record of Europeans arriving here was in 1585, with John Davis sailing under Queen Elizabeth I. The British began searching for the mysterious Northwest Passage through Canada that would connect them to the Far East to no avail. The Davis Strait is named after him, a stretch of sea between Baffin Bay to the north and the Labrador Sea to the south.

This was the beginning of the endless searches for the Northwest Passage over centuries. I spent nearly three weeks onboard as we navigated the length of the Northwest Passage; it was one of the coolest experiences of my life. 

In the early 17th century, William Baffin explored and charted the area all around Lancaster Sound as a pilot under Henry Hudson. He is considered to be the first European to “discover” Baffin Bay, which is named after him, though they did not find a way through the Northwest Passage. 

It wouldn’t be until 1906 that the great Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen would successfully find a route through the Northwest Passage. 

Something that’s important to distinguish when you’re in the Arctic (or Antarctic) is sea ice versus icebergs. We see plenty of both in the Arctic, especially around Baffin Bay. 

Sea ice forms in the ocean from salt water. It’s also classified by age and thickness, with multiyear ice being the strongest, having survived the summer melts. The water needs to be -1.8°C for the ice to begin to form, and as it ages year after year, the brine in the frozen water disappears, meaning that it turns to frozen freshwater – this was often used by polar expeditions.

Many of the Arctic expeditions involve intentionally getting their ships stuck in the sea ice and overwintering. This didn’t end well meant times. First off, the sea ice will move and drift, taking you away following currents. Secondly, the pressure in the ridges and the ice often smash and destroy the ship, especially in the spring when it begins to melt. 

Inuit rely on predictable sea ice patterns and traditional routes on the ice for hunting by dogsled or snowmobile. Sadly, climate change is impacting the sea ice, making it unpredictable. You can walk on stable, thick sea ice. You should never walk on an iceberg. In fact, you shouldn’t go near icebergs. 

Icebergs come from glaciers on land. They’re chunks of ice that break off of the glaciers that fall into the sea. As they melt, their freshwater is what raises the sea levels.

Icebergs are beautiful, and Baffin Bay is full of them. They’re also dangerous. I mean, I assume everyone knows that from Titanic, but there are other reasons than just sinking a ship. In fact, the iceberg that sunk the Titanic is thought to have originated from the Ilulissat Icefjord in Greenland. 

There are icebergs that are bigger than buildings or even city blocks or even Manhattan. They can be gigantic. A23a was the largest iceberg in the world, calving off an ice shelf in Antarctica in 1986. It was nearly 4,000 square kilometers in size. 

Only 10% of an iceberg is usually visible above the waterline; this means there is a shit-ton of ice underneath stretching out in every direction.

And icebergs love to break apart or flip spontaneously. This means if you’re anywhere near one, let alone on top of one, you’re screwed. Just Google videos of it; it’s terrifying. If the ice is beneath you, you might fly. They’ll send out large tidal waves that could easily swamp nearby boats and flying ice shrapnel, too. 

When we zodiac cruise along icebergs and glacier faces, we keep a safe distance away. You can tell when an iceberg has flipped over because it’ll often be bright, shiny blue. They’re mesmerizing.

For the past 15 years, Greenland has been losing 300 billion tons of ice and water annually, and it’s increasing. One day in July 2012, the entire surface of the Greenland ice sheet melted.

In fact, there still wasn’t regular cargo shipping through the passage for most of the year until 2009. After that, the declining sea ice, thanks to climate change, means that you can access here longer. 

We saw many glaciers on my travels with Adventure Canada, and my mind kept returning to both the profound sadness and fear I have around climate change. I wish everyone could see what I have seen. Hot days in Greenland, no sea ice in the Northwest Passage. Starving polar bears trapped on land. Traditional Inuit hunting tracks gone.

Will all these beautiful glaciers that drop down into the sea dissapear in my lifetime?

By far, one of the coolest experiences I had last summer was actually landing on the sea ice. It’s something I’ve ever done once, and it was along the pack ice in Baffin Bay on our Out of the Northwest Passage trip. 

We spent some time exploring the pack ice in northern Baffin Bay before our expedition leader found a large, solid, and old, safe patch of sea ice. It was misty and beautiful, making the blue of the ice pop against moody skies. Every so often, the sun would peek through the fog, creating the most incredible atmosphere.

Revving the zodiacs up onto an icy beach, we were able to hop out and explore the ridges and pools of this old sea ice. It was absolutely magical.

Nothing is more of a poignant reminder that you are far from home, exploring the Arctic than drifting through the ice. 

You could be centuries back in time. The silence is profound, only broken up by the occasional crunches through newer sea ice. Your eyes constantly scan the horizon, along the edges of the pack ice, looking for an unusual shape, the pale yellow that indicates a polar bear in contrast to the bright whitish-blue ice. Or the black of the flippers of a seal. Maybe even the spray from a passing whale. 

Baffin Bay is a magical part of the world. I can’t wait to return.

Does sea ice hold a fascination over you, too? Would you like to visit Baffin Bay one day? Spill!

Curious about traveling to the Arctic?
Check out my trips and learn more here

Many thanks to Adventure Canada for hosting me in the Arctic – like always, I’m keeping it real – all opinions are my own, like you could expect less from me!

The post Postcards from icy Baffin Bay appeared first on Young Adventuress.

It’s been *quite* a while since I’ve visited a verrrry Instagrammy spot or a new country. Hello Faroe Islands! We called in here on the North Atlantic Saga with Adventure Canada, spending nearly a week in the Faroes; every single day was extraordinary.

I don’t think I’m far off of the mark when I say that the Faroe Islands weren’t on many people’s radars until Instagram blew it up a few years ago. Staggering green sea cliffs, wild landscapes, cute sheep, and puffins made for easy storytelling in images and videos. It takes real effort to capture ugly photos here. It was the new Iceland.

Nested between Scotland, Iceland, and Norway, the Faroe Islands are actually self-governing under Denmark. Comprised of 18 main islands mostly lorded over by birds and sheep, for nearly a millennia the Faroes have been very isolated. With a population of just over 50,000, while small, the Faoes are definitely punching above their weight. This place is incredible. 

With more than 70% of the land sitting 200 meters above sea level, the Faroes are full of stunning sea cliffs, home to many birds such as puffins, guillemots, skuas (the only Faroese word in the English language), and the oystercatcher, which happens to be the national bird. You’re pretty much guaranteed epic views no matter where you go. 

Even after spending some time there, I can safely say that the Faroes remain an enigma. It’s a complex, interesting place full of nuances that are hard to understand as a casual visitor. Maybe this bit of mystery makes it more compelling. Forever a curious person, I was very excited to visit the Faroe Islands with Adventure Canada last June. 

I spent the northern hemisphere summer at sea working with Adventure Canada in northern Europe, the Arctic and Atlantic Canada. After exploring Scotland for over two weeks, we set sail for the Faroes. Their trip, Scotland, The Faroe Islands, & Iceland: North Atlantic Saga, is one of the most popular, occurring every other year. 

There is something pretty special about following in the wake of the Vikings across the North Atlantic by sea. Or perhaps the Irish monks – there is now evidence to suggest the Faroes were settled hundreds of years before the Norse began to set sail in earnest. The sea dominates every aspect of life on the Faroe Islands. To explore it by boat feels symbolic.

The ports are ancient; the roads are modern. In fact, the roads were better here than in New Zealand. I was surprised to learn that the Faroes have one of the highest GDP per capita in Europe, one of the big reasons why I personally disagree with their complicated stance on whaling.

That being said, we don’t visit governments or judge entire countries based on one thing (generally speaking). I visit people. Humans. Places. And I loved the Faroes. There’s nowhere quite like it. Here are some of my favorite photos from my visit to the Faroe Islands – Enjoy!

Vágur

Something you can’t help but notice upon arriving in the Faroes is the colorful houses. It seems that every town and village has distinct and brightly painted homes, different from their neighbors as if they’re outdoing each other. In conjunction with the neon green landscape and blue seas, it’s hard to imagine a more colorful country.

Our first stop with Adventure Canada in the Faroe Islands was Vágur, on the island of Suðuroy. A quiet and peaceful place; it’s a bit off the grid, and you won’t run into many tourists here. It was also my first introduction to the bright and colorful houses. And to the adorable sheep, you see everywhere. 

Sheep and the Faroe Islands go hand in hand. Here, sheep outnumber humans (which isn’t hard since only 54,000 people call the Faroes home), and you’ll see them everywhere. They’ve been here since the 9th century, and in fact, the Faroese name of the Faroes Island – Føroyar – comes from the old Norse word – Færeyjar – which literally means Sheep Islands.

The Vikings didn’t get it wrong. Tough, hardy, and pretty cute sheep pervade life here, and they know how to pose, too.

Tórshavn

Tórshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands, is small and compact and has everything you’d like to see in a city while traveling. Home to a third of the population, in many ways it feels representative of Faroese culture.

Tradition mingles with modernity here. You can walk down winding alleys between turf roof houses with dried fish swinging in the wind. Around the corner, you’ll find stunning art galleries, charming cafes, and hip breweries. Historic wooden boats, colorful and bright, almost dominate the harbor. Classic woolen Faroese sweaters are not only abundant but obligatory. Tórshavn stands on its own as a place worth exploring.

The turf roof houses in the Faroe Islands are iconic—you see them everywhere, including right in the middle of Tórshavn, the capital. Providing insulation as well as maintaining tradition, at 62° North, with the wind and the rain, it makes sense. They do need mowing and maintenance. Some of the older houses are built down into the ground, making access easy for hungry sheep.

Gjógv

It seems every village in the Faroes is perfectly picturesque, and Gjógv is no exception. To visit the Faroe Islands is to experience epic landscapes.

Gjógv gets its name from the gorge that cuts into the land, forming a natural harbor. Climbing up the opposite side of the gorge puts its beauty into perspective, especially as puffins fly in and out of their burrows along the cliffs. This was where I got my first up close and personal encounter with these adorable birds. There so much smaller than you think they are. And they look so awkward when they fly with their legs sticking out in a floppy way.

Several of the villages around the Faroe Islands are equally dramatic. Beautiful in all weather, any day, you can see why there are so many legends and myths that have emerged from these places.

Gásadalur

When coming to visit the Faroe Islands, I think I was most excited to see Gásadalur, home to the iconic Múlafossur waterfall. This incredible waterfall tumbles down into the sea, surrounded by cute puffins (!!!) and steep sea cliffs.

Gásadalur (Goose Valley) was a very remote place for a long time. Until 2004, before the construction of a tunnel, you had to hike over a mountain from nearby Bøur, including the postman who had to come over three times a week. Either it was the best job or the worst job.

Gásadalur is a tiny village nestled between two large mountains along the stunning Faroese coastline. Until about twenty years ago, when they finally built a tunnel, you had to climb over the mountains to arrive here. No one envied the postman, especially when he carried over a washing machine on his back!

While the village has gotten quiet, the hills are busy as people flock to see the famous Múlafossur waterfall, which tumbles sixty meters down into the sea. With puffins flocking to the cliffs, it seems plucked from a fairytale. It’s certainly earned its fame. 

Tindhólmur

The last day in the Faroes we spent at Tindhólmur, one of the craziest islands I’ve ever seen! A seemingly perfect right triangle, one side of the uninhabited islet is a sheer vertical cliff face rising straight up hundreds of meters from the sea. Covered in neon green grass, sheep of every color, and a shit-ton of seabirds, including ALL of the puffins, it doesn’t look real, as if someone sliced in half a pyramid and removed one side. 

The legend of Tindhólmur is equally wild. It’s thought there once was a man named Rasmus who was banished here with his wife and baby to farm alone. Then, one day, a huge eagle came and stole the baby, flying all the way to the very top of the highest peak, Ørnatindur (Peak of the Eagle). With the Faroese viking roots, it’s no surprise this tale does not end well. The mother climbed to the top of the island only to find that the eagle already pecked out the eyes of the baby (sorry, guys!) who was dead. They left Tindhólmur, and no one has lived there since.

While I didn’t see any eagles here, the bird life and crazy views blew me away. Sunny and hot, it was an amazing spot to wrap up an adventure in the Faroe Islands.

Do you want to visit the Faroe Islands? Is it on your bucketlist? Share!

Many thanks to Adventure Canada for hosting me in the Faroe Islands – like always, I’m keeping it real – all opinions are my own like you could expect less from me!

The post 25 photos to inspire you to visit the Faroe Islands appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Growing up, I didn’t travel much. And by much, I mean not at all.

My mom was a single mom for a good chunk of my childhood. I have great memories of going to Virginia Beach in the summertime, but that was about it. But I have had the travel bug since I was little, and I can still remember plowing through copies of National Geographic my mom had kept on shelves in our guest bedroom upstairs. 

Infinitely curious; I was always trying to figure out when I would get the chance to explore these places for myself one day. When I had the chance to study abroad in Spain during university at the tender age of 19, any free moment and any extra dollars I had went towards travel.

I had a big black backpack, and almost every weekend, I went somewhere. It was so cheap to get around Spain and Europe back then. I would intentionally book super early flights and sleep in the airports or take overnight transportation. Those big 16-bed hostel dorm rooms were my home. Every minute was for exploration.

Hungry to see it all, I wanted to do everything.

To describe my travel style at 19, I’d say it was pretty manic.

My eyes were bulging at all the new things I was soaking in, and my brain was exploding at everything I was learning (good and bad). I wanted to fill in all the blank pages on my own travel maps. This prompted things like taking day trips to Bratislava just to say I’d been to Slovakia. I couldn’t tick off everything on my bucket list fast enough!

It’s crazy to think about that now. I travel so differently these days. It’s taken me years to learn, but I feel my travel style has evolved into something entirely different. If I had to put a finger on it, I’d say it would be mindfulness. Along with my passion for conservation and sustainability, the big old lesson of being more mindful when on the road has come. Whether I’m spending one week in just one place or just turning off my phone for a while, supporting local and even being prepared with travel insurance, I’d say mindfulness, in general, might be the big theme of 2023 across the board.

Here are my thoughts on how to embrace mindful travel now. Enjoy!

1. Don’t be afraid to slow down

I believe the biggest step anyone can take towards more mindful travel is to slow down. You don’t have to see every single thing to feel like a trip is worth it. 

Instead of changing accommodation every day or two, book a place for a week and base yourself there. The longer you stay in one place, the deeper the stories, connections, and memories you’ll find. Instead of scratching the surface and taking a selfie, you’ll likely have some extraordinary experiences that only happen to those who slow down. 

And for heaven’s sake, put your phone away. Seeing those photos of a million people standing before the Mona Lisa, I get so sad. There are so many more incredible museums and art to soak in around Paris. 

Nowadays, I usually have my phone on airplane mode or do not disturb when I travel. I also have disabled all the notifications on my phone, barring emergencies and texts. It’s so easy to get sucked into the internet void. Create some distance for yourself and allow yourself to be present while on the road. 

These memories last a lifetime. 

2. Be sure to respect local customs and cultures

The world wasn’t as “woke” as it is now, way back in 2007 when I started backpacking around the world. Only as we collectively evolve have I become more aware of other narratives and perspectives, especially of marginalized people. Sure, it sounds easy to say “respect local culture,” but in fact, it’s harder than you think. 

I’ve been blogging for thirteen years now, and there are things I’ve written in the past that I wouldn’t write now. But even back then, I was coming to terms with this, especially regarding feminism and how to dress in conservative countries. Cue my crazy experience of getting harassed in Egypt or getting naked in Istanbul. 

Travel is a privilege, and do some research before hitting the road. I think a lot about how to be a respectful traveler and what I’ve learned from past mistakes. This encompasses everything from learning a few key phrases in the local language. I don’t take people’s photos without permission, and I treat places with care and respect, not like a zoo. This has never been more important, especially around indigenous groups. Awareness, respect, and kindness are everything; it’s quite the lesson to learn just to be quiet and listen. 

At the end of the day, respecting the local culture and customs is a core part of mindful travel. This isn’t about you – you’re in someone else’s home – their rules. I’m very careful about how I dress these days when I travel and how I behave. For me, to travel is to learn and to grow.  

3. Be prepared

Here’s a secret tip I’ve learned (by accident) over the years about practicing mindful travel – be prepared. 

Perhaps this goes without saying, but mindfulness is often synonymous with being conscious or aware of things around you. This means thinking beyond myself, my impact on others, and how not to cause challenges. As a magnet for misadventure, I couldn’t be more aware of this. Whether crashing a scooter in Bali, falling off a camel in Jordan, or interrupting a honeymoon sesh in the Maldives, I’ve always been a magnet for misadventure. 

I learned long ago that the more prepared I am when traveling, the less burdensome repercussions I have on others. I think this speaks to the heart of mindful travel. Bring essentials to sustain you in an emergency and try not to challenge local resources (looking at you, the Australian man who had to be rescued twice from Mt. Aspiring for refusing to turn around in bad weather.) This can be anything from ensuring you’re prepared for all tramping scenarios. Perhaps you plan how your transport might look in small and remote places – so you don’t have to beg someone to wake up a taxi driver to get you there (Matera, Italy 2012). Or the easiest option of all? Invest in travel insurance.

Southern Cross Travel Insurance (SCTI) has long been my go-to provider for all things insurance-related on all my travels worldwide. Their annual comprehensive policies are perfect for someone on the go like me. They also offer single trip policies too. Their motto is “Relax; we’re with you.” Just what we need! It never crossed my mind to get travel insurance back in the day, and only after enduring various mishaps did I learn it was worth it. For me, nowadays, travel insurance is non-negotiable.

4. Embrace being offline

I cannot even begin to tell you how lucky I am that I began my travels in the pre-smartphone days. I know I’m showing my age, but for the first year I lived in Spain, I used calling cards to ring my family in the US and used the computer in the hostel lounges if I needed to book a room or send an email.

And I’m so grateful for it. And not only because there is no evidence of some of the stupid and embarrassing things I did. 

Even though I traveled with a frantic energy of feeling like I must see and do everything, at least I was present.

I had a little point-and-shoot camera and journals. For the holidays while living abroad, I bought a rail pass and backpacked around Europe for a month, hopping on and off trains. I can remember that I chose to leave my old iPod (with the clicky wheel) in Spain because it would have been too much of a pain to charge it up on the road. I happily rode trains silently for hours with no technology and only a Lonely Planet for company. Seems crazy now. 

5. Support locals and local operators

Another easy way to mindful travel is to pay more attention to where you drop your dollars.

As a small business owner in a tourist town, I make a point now to try and support as many local businesses as possible when I travel. I know how much even $20 can mean. And I know how disheartening it feels to have dozens of people come into my shop from a cruise ship, take photos, and leave without buying anything. It is AWFUL.

Wanaka, New Zealand, is a very touristy place. It’s a small town, and it often feels like it’s bursting with tourists at the seams. In peak season, I can’t get a table at my favorite restaurant, and I’ve caught people camping in their cars by my driveway. I’ve seen people treat it like Disneyland, oblivious to how it impacts locals. Apart from bad behavior, the local communities bear the impact of tourism; at least make sure they get some kind of financial benefit from it. 

But perhaps the biggest point here is being careful when visiting local cultural places. Try to ensure you’re putting your travel dollars in the pockets of the people whose culture you’re soaking in. Stay at a local home or apartment instead of a hotel chain. Try and book a tour with a local operator. It makes a difference. 

Have any other tips to add to embracing mindful travel? Share!

Many thanks to SCTI for sponsoring this post – like always, I’m keeping it real  – all opinions are my own like you can expect less from me!

The post 5 tips for embracing mindful travel appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Whenever I’ve turned to travel during tumultuous periods of my life, it’s saved me in a way. Travel has a way of putting things into perspective. Often it realigns the things that really matter in your head. 

Travel, by its very nature, sparks joy. I mean, that’s why we go, isn’t it? We’re seeking something. With over 100 countries and all seven continents under my belt, I can safely say that travel can and will change your life – if you let it. And is there anything more joyful than stumbling across the best little restaurant in Rome? Or learning to dive with manta rays in Thailand? Or climbing mountains in New Zealand like Frodo?

Nope, nothing beats that. Well, except for Antarctica. Antarctica beats everything. Antarctica is life-changing.

Yes, Antarctica. The great white nation to the south; uninhabited and ruled by birds and scientists. Land of penguins and whales. NOT the land of polar bears (wrong hemisphere). Of all the places I’ve been privileged enough to travel to in my short life, nothing comes close to Antarctica. 

In fact, I love Antarctica so much, I’ve been several times, even returning next season to guide!

And for the first time ever, Antarctica has become more accessible to people like you and me. If I were to recommend anywhere in the world to travel to, it has to be here. Do not pass Go, and do not collect $200. From being the last pure wilderness on earth to wildlife on a scale you can’t imagine to letting go of your need to be in charge, Antarctica can and will change your life. It’s the most transformative place on earth. Buckle up. 

Here are eight ways Antarctica is life-changing – enjoy!

1. You’ll become a proper bird nerd

Let’s not beat around the bush. A voyage to Antarctica will turn you into a bird nerd. You can’t see a penguin up close and personal for a minute and not become a bird nerd. It’s impossible.

But here’s the thing. You won’t see just one penguin. You’ll see thousands. 

It all begins when your ship begins its iconic journey through the Drake Passage. Here you’ve said goodbye to the Roaring Forties and you’re well into the Furious Fifties on your way to the Screaming Sixties. There is no resistance of any landmass in the world in this part of the Southern Ocean, making wild wind and huge swells the norm.

While we humans don’t necessarily love winds so strong it can knock you over, many seabirds do. As you emerge from the sheltered Beagle Channel in Argentina into the Drake, you’ll notice the most amazing albatross cutting clean lines behind the ship. Seeing so many is the first taste of the epic wildlife that’s about to come. 

Once you get to the Antarctica Peninsula itself, then it becomes penguin time. 

Instead of seeing some penguins here and there, you’ll likely be tripping over them. Down here, protected and sheltered, penguin colonies thrive. Often you can hear their gentle calls carried on the wind far away, and you can also smell them from far away too. But don’t be deterred. 

There’s nothing quite so life-changing as walking alongside a colony of penguins numbering in the thousands. Gentoos. Chinstraps. Adelies. It’s mind-boggling and awe-inspiring to witness wildlife this up close and personal. This does not really happen anymore in places where humans inhabit. How can this not change you?

2. Antarctica puts things in perspective

At the risk of stating the obvious – Antarctica is life-changing and big. And it will make you feel small. 

Covered in glaciers that tower over you and mountains as far as you can see, Antarctica has a way of putting things into scale. We are tiny compared to this incredible place. Whether surrounded by humpback whales feeding or walking on beaches made up of whale bones, you quickly feel tiny amongst such tremendous nature. 

On my first voyage to Antarctica years ago, we got our first taste as we approached the Antarctica Peninsula from South Georgia. Suddenly, emerging from the mist, was a wall of blue ice that extended as far as you could see. Iceberg A68A was once 5,800 square kilometers when it broke off of the ice shelf.

Nothing makes you feel like you’re approaching Antarctica than witnessing these huge tabular icebergs in real life. The scale of Antarctica is life-changing.

3. You have to go with the flow

In Antarctica, Mother Nature is in charge. Followed up by your Russian captain. 

Any trip to Antarctica is determined by the weather. Nothing is guaranteed. Here the storms can be huge, and the consequences dire. This means that all expedition trips down there have to play it by ear. The expedition leader puts together plans of landings based on many factors, including wind and ice. Often one bay might be chock full of sea ice preventing the zodiac boats from entering, while another will be clear and still like a mirror. 

A lifelong solo traveler and introvert, it was a great lesson to learn. I had to go with the flow. We have no say in where we go and land; it’s all dictated by the weather. For those of us who are used to being in charge, especially traveling, it can be quite a humbling experience. So sit back and enjoy the ride.

4. You learn that travel insurance is essential

I think you’d be hard-pressed to find an expedition ship not requiring travel insurance on a voyage to Antarctica. Because it’s so unpredictable, combined with the cost involved and its sheer remoteness, your backup plans need backup plans. Travel insurance is mandatory on most trips, and it is a condition of travel.

And not just any old travel insurance, either. You need to have one that is fully comprehensive and covers medical expenses, including emergency repatriation to at least one million dollars, if not unlimited. Think about it. What happens if something goes wrong? If it’s bad, usually the ship has to turn around. There are no hospitals or medical centers, or rescue helicopters, though most ships have a doctor on board. Most of the time, all they do is distribute seasickness pills. 

It goes without saying that the greatest way to alleviate any on-the-ground travel anxiety is making sure you have good travel insurance. You guys know I buy an annual policy every year with Southern Cross Travel Insurance (SCTI), my now go-to provider for all things travel insurance-related on all my travels worldwide. They also offer single-trip policies too. Their motto is “Relax; we’re with you.” Just what we need!

5. You haven’t lived until you’ve been pooped on by a fluffy penguin chick – and it doesn’t bother you

You can’t have penguins without penguin poop. And with 10,000 penguins? Well, you get the idea. 

Someone once told me about the smells, before my first trip to the Antarctic. Here you have life and death confronting you at every moment. It’s impossible not to when confronted with wildlife on such a scale. While it might seem a bit ick in advance, once you’re there, it doesn’t matter much. You’ll be wearing fully waterproof gear, often with jackets and bug muck boots provided by the ship. Because biosecurity is essential here, you’ll wash your boots and gear when you get on and off the ship. And with it? Penguin poop. 

The thing about having the best penguin experiences is to sit down and observe them (though last season, we had to keep a bit of a distance because of bird flu). It’s fascinating – I could watch the colonies for hours – it’s like nature’s tv. One time I had a fluffy grey gentoo penguin climb across my lap. Then, you guessed it; he pooped on me.

I wouldn’t change that memory for anything in the world!

6. Being offline is good for the soul

Is it weird to say that one of my favorite things about Antarctica is being offline?

Once you hit sixty degrees south, whatever terrible, expensive satellite internet the ship offers usually craps out completely. Don’t bother buying it; just accept that as soon as that ship bids Argentina farewell, your internet and 5G depart too. 

In a world that is more connected than ever (boo you, Starlink!), it’s harder just to get offline and be in nature. Antarctica gives you the rare opportunity to disconnect and be in one of the most incredible places on Earth. Put your phone down and just soak it in, in all its wonder. 

Antarctica is life-changing if you completely immerse yourself in it. No pings. No beeps. Just the sounds of the wind and the birds.

7. You’ll likely leave polar obsessed

There’s a saying you’ll hear onboard trips to Antarctica – catching the polar bug. Much better than covid. 

Antarctica is addictive. It will get under your skin and never leave. It has a profound impact on many of its visitors, myself included. Nothing compares, and nothing beats it. It introduces you to polar travel, showing just how special these places on the fringes of the world are. 

So prepare yourself and your savings accounts. Once you take your first polar trip, there’s no turning back. Antarctica is life-changing, especially when it comes to travel.

8. You’ll become an ambassador and an advocate

Perhaps you don’t consider yourself much of a greenie or conservationist, but it’s pretty hard to journey to Antarctica and not leave wanting to protect it. Antarctica feels fragile, as if it teeters on the edge of development. And, in fact, it does. The treaty that protects it will expire in 2048 – who then will fight for it to remain untouched?

Once you experience a world ruled by nature and wildlife, you can’t help but want to protect it. I’ve found that most people who are lucky enough to step foot on the seventh continent will go on to want to protect it. If we don’t, who will?    

What do you think? Is this the kind of experience you yearn for too? Can you see how Antarctica is life-changing? Share! 

Many thanks to SCTI for sponsoring this post – like always I’m keeping it real  – all opinions are my own like you can expect less from me!

The post 8 ways Antarctica might unexpectedly change your life appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Slowly this realization dawned on me while crossing the infamous Drake Passage on the Ocean Endeavour on the way back from visiting Antarctica. I was with twenty cool people who took a chance and decided to join me on this adventure, my first group tour to the Antarctic and my seventh polar expedition. I will never stop thanking Chimu Adventures, who believed in me and gave me this opportunity.

Bumping up and down with the swells as albatross sliced cleanly through the clouds, I was so deliriously happy.

Curious about traveling to the Arctic or Antarctic?
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When I’m onboard expedition ships, exploring some of the most remote places on earth, in the company of other like-minded folk and a shit ton of wildlife, I’m happiest.

I love sliding around on the deck as huge swells roll beneath my feet. I sleep like a baby snug in a tiny little bunk. My knowledge of where we are bubbles out of me, and I become an extrovert talking to people all the time. I, like, START conversations sometimes with strangers! (My fellow introverts will understand).

But every minute that we inched closer towards “real life,” towards 5G, and all of the responsibilities of running two businesses, I felt an uncomfortable weight sink deeper into the pit of my stomach. Whenever I thought about what awaited me back on land, I wanted to vomit.

And I don’t get seasick.

The past three years have taught me so much. From the losing a parent to a failed long-term relationship to starting a physical business (NODE) to writing a book, I found strength I didn’t know I was capable of. Looking back, I’ve done some really hard things. I’m still in the middle of doing hard things.

But the biggest lesson of all? Letting things go. Quiet acceptance. Slowing down.

These collective experiences put things into perspective, about focusing on what really matters and makes me happy. And what doesn’t.

Somewhere around 60° south, I finally acknowledged a few key truths I was very good at burying:

1. I’m happiest at sea in the most wild parts of the world. That polar travel fulfills me in ways that are hard to explain.
2. I want to be an expedition guide. I love sharing my knowledge and passion for this with others. I put my guest’s experiences ahead of mine, ensuring they felt how special it all was.
3. Finally, life is too short to put off your dreams.

On all my trips to the Arctic and Antarctic, I traveled as media/press. I wasn’t a guest, but I wasn’t crew either. While I absolutely loved this role, in some small way, I always felt a little left out, like I didn’t belong anywhere. I was hungry for more.

Looking back, I think I’ve known this all along since my first expedition trip to Svalbard in 2016. Watching polar bears cross the pack ice and being offline in the wilderness fulfilled me. It prompted my subsequent polar travel expeditions since. This is the life I want, spending a chunk of every year on these ships.

But like so many of us, particularly women, I put it off. Why? I am so mean to myself. I told myself I wasn’t good enough or qualified and didn’t have the experience. I wasn’t a scientist or hardcore adventurer. For over ten years, I’ve been undervalued, and belittled for my work as a blogger and influencer, even though I know I’ve achieved so much. But no matter how far I flew, imposter syndrome always kept me company. Fucker.

But it was time to change this. We can do hard things.

The ship I take guests down to Antarctica as a host with Chimu Adventures is called the Ocean Endeavour. It also runs in partnership with my old friends Intrepid Travel.

During the southern hemisphere summer, the Endeavour hangs out around the Antarctic, so November to March-ish. Then it voyages north to spend the northern summer in the Arctic with Adventure Canada.

Now, I can finally share that after months and months of hard work, my polar travel dreams are coming true.

For the first time ever, I’m skipping the kiwi winter and heading north to work on the Endeavour in the Arctic with Adventure Canada. I’ll be away from New Zealand for four months, working onboard from Scotland, Iceland, the Faroes, and Greenland to remote Canada. Part of the expedition team, I’ll be working mostly with photography and writing, guiding, and sharing stories from this part of the world.

I’ll finish and return to New Zealand in the spring before returning to Antarctica with Chimu and Intrepid next season. I’ll be fully guiding and hosting trips. Sign up here to learn more.

I couldn’t be more excited. Literally, every single thing excites me about this opportunity.

I’m excited to be a rookie again. To be at the bottom of the ladder and work my way up through hard work. And I know it’s going to be really hard. I can’t wait to spend less time online and more time working with my hands in my favorite places. I’ve been slowly chipping away at qualifications like getting a powerboat license to drive zodiacs, undergoing maritime security courses, doing first aid courses, and more.

I love learning new things; I’m a sponge.

It’s easy to carry on with familiar work and life patterns. What’s truly hard is to find the strength to shove them aside and jump at something new. Turning 35 a few weeks ago, I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Life is too short to fuck around and not do what you really love.

Filling out the paperwork for these trips (omfg, so much paperwork), they ask questions I haven’t been asked for a long time, like what are my hobbies and what I do for fun. Um, crickets.

I work, work, and then do more work. A lot of the stuff I do in nature is for work. My photography and writing technically count as work. Travel is usually work. I go to the gym – does that count? I read, like going for walks, and I watch TV at night to try to turn my work brain off, but that’s about it. Fuck. When did this happen to me? I feel like I don’t know how to have fun anymore. I force myself to schedule time to spend with friends.

A friend told me recently that I light up when I talk about my upcoming time onboard. Not many things light me up anymore, which I was sad to realize. I feel like with all of the shit I’ve endured over the past two years, my spark is gone, snuffed out.

But now I know I want it back. Desperately.

One of the biggest things I hope to achieve with this new polar travel chapter is that it’ll give me the freedom to have good chunks of time off. I’m hoping it’ll teach me balance. I’ll work my ass off for a few months on board, then have a few months off to do whatever I want. I will still be here sharing stories, but hopefully from a new lens.

It’s time to stop messing around with things that don’t mark your heart sing. Our dreams are real and valid; if we don’t chase them, someone else will.

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