<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0">
  <channel>
    <title>adventureworldwide.net</title>
    <link>http://www.adventureworldwide.net</link>
    <description>Adventure stories and photographs</description>
    <atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/adventureworldwide" /><feedburner:info uri="adventureworldwide" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:browserFriendly></feedburner:browserFriendly><item>
      <title>In the ditch (or, how we suffered in Scandinavia)</title>
      <link>http://www.adventureworldwide.net/stories/in-the-ditch-or-how-we-suffered-in-scandinavia</link>
      <description>With the steps in place the door opened and a rush of cold air swept in. It was at about this moment that I wondered why I hadn't packed a scarf, hat and gloves. The temperature was minus double figures already, and tonight it was only going to get colder.</description>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>Olympic sized ambitions</title>
      <link>http://www.adventureworldwide.net/stories/olympic-sized-ambitions</link>
      <description> The fence, the wasteland, and then in front of us the stadium itself. An unconventional triathlon, I agree, but it satisfied our thirst. Quietly we spirited up the stairs and out into the seating area, taking immediately to the steel stairs and walkways that would lead us up above this theatre of achievements.</description>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>Standing on the shoulder of a giant</title>
      <link>http://www.adventureworldwide.net/stories/standing-on-the-shoulder-of-a-giant</link>
      <description>Pushing the pain in my leg from my head I began working my way upward, shutting out also, as much as I could, the fear. This wasn't like the ladder-climbed chimneys of earlier adventures: here it was faith only in the woven nylon and the aged and weary concrete to which it was attached.</description>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>November</title>
      <link>http://www.adventureworldwide.net/stories/november</link>
      <description>It's remarkable how different life is now to how it was just over a year ago. My buddy Shane and I climbed the Williamsburg Bridge once more, for him just a night out, for me as a little reminder of my trip to NYC back in 2009 and the startling realisation that came with it: there's a whole world out here, and it's not going to wait.</description>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>En el vientre de la bestia</title>
      <link>http://www.adventureworldwide.net/stories/en-el-vientre-de-la-bestia</link>
      <description>There's an amazing feeling being down in the workings of a hydro plant, knowing that there's all that water potential above your head, held back by a man-made wall and a few valves. And of course, hand controls and levers attached to those valves are always going to provide temptation to mischievous intruders...</description>
    </item>
  </channel>
</rss>

