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.

After finishing the Heaphy Track outside of Takaka, I caught the shuttle from Golden Bay Air to the airport, where I rented a car. These are the guys who organize the logistics and flights around the area. Takaka is approximately one million miles and $500 worth of petrol away from Wānaka, so when I heard you could rent a car there, I thought it would be a good chance to finally explore an area of New Zealand I rarely visit. 

I’ll preface this by saying that the term “airport” is a stretch; it’s an office with a little runway, which I can’t remember if it was paved or not. These are small plane flights. It’s so chill and easy, exactly what you want on a holiday. The car was an old Honda that felt like you could take it anywhere. I rolled the windows down and hit the road to Takaka, the salty, warm air reminding me I was in paradise. It’s a place where you know that everyone knows each other’s names. And all of their business, too. Love it!

The first thing you need to know about Golden Bay is that it’s like stepping back to the 90s. Which is saying something because the rest of New Zealand also feels like a step back in time. 

Every few streets, there are fruit stands with honesty boxes, and no one is in a rush to do anything. It’s such a nice feeling. Golden Bay is an area at the very tip-top of the South Island. It’s one of the sunniest areas of New Zealand and is home to some epic independent growers and farms. In fact, most of the top of the South Island is like that. I’m writing this as there is frost a centimeter thick coating my power bill is in the triple digits. Why Wānaka, why?! 

Golden Bay is a huge bay that stretches from the top of the Abel Tasman National Park all the way out to Farewell Spit, a 26-kilometer-long sandspit. It forms almost a perfect “C” shape and is one of the more remote places to get to in New Zealand. You have to want to go there; it’s not on the way anywhere. 

The only times I’ve been to Golden Bay have been around mass whale strandings with Project Jonah. Farewell Spit is a huge hotspot for whale strandings, usually mass strandings by pilot whales. There was a massive one seven years ago with over 400 whales. We don’t really know why they strand here, but there are various theories around the fact that it has huge tidal flows and very gently sloped sand around the spit with deep water on the other side. No matter the reason, it’s a whale death trap.

You guys know this is a topic close to my heart after I came across my own whale stranding alone on Rakiura/Stewart Island years ago. A horror of a memory that’s helped shape my work and inspired me to focus far more on conservation, especially around marine mammals. 

Massive fucking bummer, I know. But hey, I was super excited to be up in Golden Bay and NOT be around dead and dying whales. Win-win!

Takaka is an hour away from Motueka on the coast and the gateway to the Abel Tasman National Park. But you have to drive over a mountain to get there. Golden Bay and Takaka have remained relatively isolated, mostly because it’s a giant pain in the ass to drive over. Lovingly called Takaka Hill (New Zealand is great at both naming things and minimizing them simultaneously), it has hundreds of very sharp turns and steep dropoffs. Zoom zoom!

But honestly, you’re fine, and there are guard rails and tons of pull-offs and passing options, something I wish they would do to the Crown Range, a similar mountain road connecting Wānaka and Queenstown. With virtually no safe passing areas, it usually means you’re stuck behind tourists in campervans going 50 kilometers under the speed limit and not pulling over to let the 20 cars queued behind them pass. Christ, it’s SO annoying. 

But I digress. The road was damaged years ago in a storm and for the longest time (4 years!!), there was a long section down to one lane, so you had to wait forever at traffic lights to go. One local put up a huge sign next to it counting the number of days the roadworks have been going on. I gotta be honest; I do love a petty fight against bureaucracy.

But like the locals say, it’s just a hill; get over it. 

I’ll let you in on a little secret: it’s worth the drive out to explore Golden Bay. Or fly in from Wellington or around the Heaphy with Golden Bay Air. It’s a special place that still feels local and chill.

I decided to stay in Takaka for three nights, one night at a bach by the sea after my 4-day tramp, where I decompressed, ate a shit-ton of fried food, and showered for an hour. Sigh. Nothing is better than a hot, greasy meal and a long shower after being in the bush for days. 

The next few nights, I stayed out at Rustic ReTreet, a relatively new Canopy Camping glamping site just outside of Takaka. Spoiler alert – it was like stepping into a fairytale. I love staying in these kinds of spaces for so many reasons. Unique, cozy, and beautiful, they’re basically a destination in and of themselves. You could just stay there and be perfectly content. 

As a traveling homebody, you can probably see why these places appeal to me—and many others, too—which is why they’re super popular.

I could feel my breath leave my body as I sighed, walking up to the entrance of the Rustic ReTreet.

Ten minutes out of Takaka, down some narrow backcountry roads through picturesque farmland, I felt like I had stepped into the Shire. Many locations from Lord of the Rings movies were filmed in the area. Bucolic and beautiful, with soft woodlands, pretty cows, and fruit trees everywhere, it evoked a feeling of nostalgia within me. Not that I grew up with any of that, but I’m going to run with it.

Rustic ReTreet evokes a treehouse vibe but for adults. It sits in its own little area away from their main house, and it’s completely private and quiet.

Perched on a wooden platform at the edge of an oak forest, you’re surrounded by nature. It sits on the property of the wonderful owners, Janine and Simon, who built it all themselves with timber milled from their land, and other repurposed materials. Talent. I struggle to put together IKEA furniture (though, in my defense, there are a lot of steps). 

There’s the main building with the bedroom next to a lounge with a built-in nook to read by the window. As a book girlie, I will always stan a good window nook for reading. There’s another building with an open-air kitchen on one side and an open-air bathroom on the other looking out into the forest. 

Above it is a little secret second bedroom with two single beds tucked in, surrounded by books. It is perfect for kids, but adults could totally fit in there, too. As someone who loves being snug and bundled up, I could have easily stayed up there and been happy as a clam.

There’s a hidden bath out on the deck, and the site is decorated with thoughtful touches and art. It is perfectly homey. I didn’t want to leave. But the weather was so nice I knew I had to take advantage and explore the area. After a massive lie-in, of course. Screw mornings.

The Nelson-Tasman region, particularly around the Kahurangi National Park, is cave country. There are heaps. The longest and deepest caves are here, though why on Earth anyone would go in them is beyond me. Nothing good can come out of something that far down into the Earth. 

I’ve done some tourist caving here and there, like around the Waitomo caves on the North Island and even over on the West Coast around Karamea (the other end of the Heaphy Track). New Zealand is famous for its blackwater rafting. This is when you float on an innertube guided through cave systems at varying degrees of scary. Definitely type two fun. 

I’ve spent a lot of time down there photographing glowworms (difficult), and you do start to go a bit crazy after a few hours in the dark. I don’t know how proper cavers do it, but Golden Bay is home to many caves of varying degrees of access. There are plenty of baby caves that are accessible to tourists.

Just down the road from Rustic ReTreet, through some paddocks and down some dusty roads, is the start of a trail up to the Rawhiti Caves. It was a proper grunt of a climb up to the entrance of the cave. Slightly creepy as I was the only one there. You don’t go inside the cave much; there is an incredible opening covered in stalactites with a nice viewing platform. 

With some daylight left, I drove to Puponga near Farewell Spit and visited the super-famous Wharariki Beach. I can’t believe I have never been here. Or I have, and I don’t remember. 

It is one of the screensavers for Windows 10, or so I am told. I haven’t used Microsoft since high school. There are a few rocky islands, one with a nice arch that resembles an elephant. Depending on the wind and tides, I think you can often get nice reflections of the islands in the surf. 

When I went, it was a howling gale, but it was beautiful. The beach is expansive and surrounded by dunes. Backlit at sunset, watching the sand blow around across the dunes was mesmerizing, like glitter—very much like the movie Dune. The highlight for me was some fur seal pups playing in the tidepools. I love watching them doodle around; they’re super cute. 

On my way back to Takaka, I stopped at the Mussel Inn for dinner. Guys, this place is legendary. In the middle of nowhere, there’s this beautiful macrocarpa wooden building with extensive outdoor areas that moonlights as a music venue. I sat inside by the fire with one of the beers they brew themselves and a big old pile of green-lipped mussels. Yum yum. It was fairly quiet as it was off-season, but they did bust out on the piano for some singalongs. It was so awesome. 

My last morning, I spent having a nice brunch in Takaka before heading out to the Te Waikoropupū Springs. These are the largest cold water springs in the southern hemisphere. Pupū Springs are pretty incredible and are home to some of the clearest water on Earth; the water visibility of the springs is up to 81 meters, as close as you can get to pure water. 

The springs are considered a taonga (treasure) by local Māori. No one is permitted to touch or get into the water. A nice, easy track circles the springs. It’s pretty remarkable; the blue is unreal. 

Before I knew it, it was time to head to the airport and fly back to Karamea. There were four of us inside a comfy little plane with Golden Bay Air. It was about half an hour’s flight to Karamea, where I left my car when I started the Heaphy Track a week earlier. So much better than a seven-hour drive between the start and finish of the track. However, I did drive ten hours afterward back home to Wānaka. Sigh.

The further south I drove, the lower the outside temperature became. Maybe I should have stayed in glorious Golden Bay a wee bit longer. 

Many thanks to Golden Bay Air for helping out with my transport costs. Like always, I’m keeping it real. Like you could expect less from me!

The post Takaka: a golden getaway to Golden Bay appeared first on Young Adventuress.

But there is one track I’ve been wanting to do forever, the Heaphy Track. New Zealand has ten Great Walks, including the Heaphy, and I’ve basically done them all, some even a few times. Great Walks have better infrastructure than our normal backcountry tramps – they also come with bigger price tags and book out fast. Bigger, fancier huts with wardens. Some even have flushing toilets (!!!). Wide and better-maintained trails, and for some of them, you can choose guided options. 

While kiwis pride themselves on being tough and cheap when it comes to tramping (no arguing), there is something great about easier tracks. I’ve done my fair share of slogging through frigid rivers, climbing tree roots and scrambling up dodgy rocks, and even walking in knee-deep mud (f*ck that). I’m pretty sure the motto here is, “Why build a nice switchback trail when you can just climb straight up the mountain?”

But I’m gonna be honest: I love a chance NOT to use my hands when tramping, hanging on for dear life, and praying to whatever god is out there that torture ends soon. I really don’t care about being hardcore. 

While you won’t see many kiwis on the popular Great Walks, it was all locals when I did the Heaphy Track in May this year. From May 1st, our autumn, the track opens to mountain bikers. At an 84-kilometer tramp, it’s the longest Great Walk (minus canoeing the Whanganui River), and I will argue it’s the best. 

So why did I put it off for so long? Because the start and finish of the track are a seven-hour drive apart. I couldn’t figure out the logistics, especially as I prefer to tramp alone. The start on the West Coast is a ten-hour drive from Wānaka, too. It’s quite a commitment, and it would be nearly $500 to relocate my car, on top of fuel: it currently costs me $175 to fill up my little car here. NOPE.

But then I mentioned to a friend that I was keen to tackle the Heaphy this year, and they told me about Golden Bay Air as the best logistics option. Looks left to right, how did I not know about this? You can fly in between the start and finish, and they do lots of shuttles. They have streamlined the process of organizing the tramp, and it’s affordable. It’ll save you 450 kilometers of driving. Count. Me. In. 

How I organized my logistics with Golden Bay Air:

• I drove from Wanaka to Westport in a day and stayed in a motel that night
• The next morning, I drove north, and I dropped a bag of clean clothes and toiletries at the tiny airport in Karamea
• Then I drove 15 minutes to the start of the track on the West Coast side
• I parked my car at the Kōhaihai campsite, which is where the track begins
• Over the next four days, I walked the Heaphy Track 
• I stayed in these huts in order: 
  • Day 1 – Heaphy Hut
  • Day 2 – James Mackay Hut
  • Day 3 – Perry Saddle Hut
• I met the Golden Bay Air car shuttle pick-up at the end of the track at Brown Hut to head to Takaka airport
• I grabbed my hire car and my other bag from the Takaka airport
• I stayed in Takaka for three nights to explore Golden Bay
• I returned to the Takaka airport to return the hire car and catch my short flight back to the Karamea airport
• Then, the shuttle brought us back to the start of the track at Kōhaihai, where I left my car
• Then drove back to Wanaka

**This looks like a lot, but basically, when you book with Golden Bay Air, they cover all of these services, so the process is streamlined, and the timings all line up, so you don’t have to wait around. And for those of you reading from overseas, the Karamea and Takaka airports are tiny, the size of a room; they’re more like an airstrip, not for larger commercial jets. There’s no queuing or anything.

I decided to walk the Heaphy Track from the Karamea/West Coast side north to Takaka. Most people do it the other way, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t think it’s harder in either direction. Karamea is just closer to me to drive to than Takaka. 

My GPS told me that the track was 84 kilometers long, and it was mostly evenly split over the four days, usually 16-25 kilometers per day. For me, it really wasn’t that hard. I thought the days would be much longer than I thought – each day took me around four to five hours. The best part, though, is the track feels flat. If you look at DOC’s elevation profile, it looks daunting. You’re climbing to 1,000 meters but over 20 kilometers. It’s so gradual you don’t notice the incline much. 

I noticed my back was a little more sore than normal because I had a heavier pack, bringing my camera and more food than on shorter tramps. So don’t be put off by the 20-kilometer days—they were easy, the track seems flat, there are no steps except onto bridges (remember people bike it), and it’s well maintained. You can also make it longer by staying at some of the smaller huts. 

You can drink the water along the track too – it’s stained brown from tannins from leaf matter. It’s totally fine to drink and tastes better than my tap water.

I decided to tackle the Heaphy Track in the autumn. It doesn’t have the avalanche danger that the more mountainous Great Walks have, making it a track you could tackle all year long. Though I imagine it could be unpleasant and cold in winter, I reckon you’d probably have the track all to yourself!

Also, I’m aware that many people think it’s weird that I love tramping alone and that I find the idea of being the only one on the track AMAZING. I’m an introvert. I generally hate people. I can’t help it.

I’ll use this opportunity to emphasize just how important it is to prepare accordingly and carry a Personal Locator Beacon (PLB), which you can rent if you don’t own one. This is what you set off if you have a life-threatening injury or are in danger of serious injury or loss of life. Trust me, Search and Rescue would rather come and find you with your GPS location from the PLB than have to start searching for bodies. 

There is also the risk of flooding, which means you might have to stay longer on the track. There are many huts and several emergency shelters. Bring extra food. I always bring extra food. 

How I plan for an unforgettable backcountry adventure

The biodiversity struck me as the best part of the Heaphy Track. It’s incredible, and I’d even say it’s some of the best I’ve seen tramping. The landscapes are incredible and varied. The West Coast is green and humid, the trail meandering along the rugged coastline shrouded in nikau palms. Then you head through some incredible forest before climbing up into red tussock country. It was colorful. It was beautiful. 

I saw kiwi, tūī, bellbirds, a fernbird (!!), whio, weka, kererū, robins, riflemen and so many more. You can tell there has been so much predator control in the area to protect it; the birdlife was amazing. It’s also where you can find the largest carnivorous snails—Powelliphanta snails. What the heck? I vaguely knew this, but call me intrigued. I searched for them so hard, but I only found three shells. One of the DOC rangers told me it’s hard to find them alive. 

And the queen of birds to see along the Heaphy Track: the takahē. And I didn’t see one; cue tears. It wasn’t like I didn’t try guys. Takahē can poo up to nine meters per day. You bet your ass I followed those poo trails all through the bush around the track for ages. But nada. Other people did see them, which makes me happy. While I was there, some were hanging around Saxon Hut at sunset. 

I’ve been privileged to have seen takahē many times in ecosanctuaries and at their breeding facility, but never in the wild. I guess that just means I have to go back. 

Takahē are a badass, big, hefty blue bird that was once declared extinct for fifty years. Not many creatures can boast about coming back from the dead. 

Geoffrey Orbell, a physician, found a wild population of takahē in the Murchison Mountains by Te Anau in 1948. Nowadays, with a lot of hard work in conservation, there are about 500 takahē in New Zealand. Many are in predator-free ecosanctuaries and islands (list here). There still is a population in the Murchisons, but it’s not really accessible to the public. I’ve been trying to weasel my way up there for years unsuccessfully, pun intended. I know it ruins a joke to explain it, but weasels are mustelids, like stoats, which are one of the worst introduced predators in New Zealand. In fact, in 2007, stoats managed to kill half the takahē there. Furry monsters. 

But what made Kahurangi National Park particularly special was the release of the second wild population of takahē in 2018. This massive milestone brings us one step closer to restoring our land, birds, and other creatures to what it once was like. 

 Many thanks to Golden Bay Air for organizing all of the logistics to make this possible. As always, I’m keeping it real—all opinions are my own, as if you could expect less from me.

The post How the Heaphy Track become my new favorite Great Walk 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.

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Looking up from my book, I saw that a big, fat brown bird had wandered inside, poking around fearlessly. What is this thing? I had no idea. I spent the next 10 minutes shooing it around, trying to encourage it to go back outside while it shat everywhere. Not a good first encounter with the weka. Later I would learn they can poop their body weight in a day. Respect.

But they haven’t really risen in my esteem until recently.

However, I’ve just returned from an adventure on the Heaphy Track, where, you guessed it, there were tons of weka. And as much as I find them annoying, they are a cheeky, fun, charismatic bird that doesn’t get enough love. Allow me the chance to try to redeem them. 

New Zealand weka have such an attitude. They are not afraid of much, including people, and are very curious. They will come right up to you begging for food (don’t feed them) and will snatch anything if you’re not vigilant. This is around places where people congregate; they are a little less bold in more remote spots. 

While I was having my lunch underneath a little shelter on the first day walking the Heaphy Track, I was quickly swarmed by four weka. One was particularly brave, coming right up to me, and when I tried to shoo it away, it LITERALLY growled at me. Or whatever the weka equivalent of a growl is. More of an angry chuff-like shriek that sounds like it has smoked for fifty years. Whatever. I understood what it meant; not backing down, this daring weka just stared me down until I finished my crackers. What a power move.

But you gotta hand it to them. In a country where native birds are dying left, right, and center, the weka seems to lack any sense of self-preservation. Live free or die!

In the scheme of things in New Zealand, weka aren’t particularly sexy birds. They’re not fluffy and elusive like kiwi. They don’t have the gorgeous colors of the kea. They didn’t return from the dead like takahē, nor do they get drunk like kererū and fall out of trees. 

But in their own way, weka are beautiful. And their chicks? Omg so cute; they look like blackish-brown balls of fluff. And that’s saying something because not all baby birds are cute. And they are very interesting. 

Large brown flightless birds, the wily weka are solid, hefty creatures belonging to the rail family. Sometimes, the bigger ones are almost perfectly round, like a ball with legs. There are four subspecies, and their coloring ranges from chestnut to tawny to dark brown. Some have a bit of grey or black mixed in there, too. When spooked, they often jump straight up and run around, with their tail feathers sticking straight up, making them look almost cartoonish. 

The extroverts of the bird world have red eyes, which are beautiful yet slightly intimidating if they’re staring at you.  

Invertebrates and fruit comprise the weka’s main diet, and they rip up grass and gardens alike foraging for food. I can almost see grumpy old people yelling at disobedient youths to get off their lawns.

I’ve seen weka chow down on dead things, even grazing on the shoreline and tide pools. What’s good is that they eat rabbits, rats, and mice, which are pests here. But they will also eat other lizards, birds, chicks, and eggs, which doesn’t endear them, especially if they go after vulnerable species. Weka play for their own team.

Because of this predatory tendency, weka are not usually welcome on off-shore predator-free islands or eco-sanctuaries (though some have been reintroduced to their own islands). I think this is fascinating! Kicked out of the rare bird club. Badass.

But then again, people still eat weka on the nearby Chatham Islands, and there is a bit of a movement here to farm them. And by a bit of a movement, I mean one rouge farmer who will die on the hill of dining on weka: “I’m prepared to go to jail over it. You put me in jail, and you make a martyr of me.” Lol. I love living in New Zealand.

And here we thought Australia was the only place to eat its iconic animal.

Anyway, we are a long way off from chowing down on fried weka at the local pub. Do you fry them? Or is it more like a roast? No idea. I just googled it with no definitive answers; I hope I don’t end up on a list somewhere.

In any case, weka are fully protected on the mainland here, but they still face the same threats our other native birds do, particularly predation, habitat loss, food scarcity/competition, and getting hit by cars. Their populations boom and crash, and their distribution has been shaken up a lot. Some do ok, others don’t. There is a recovery plan to try and return them to their original homelands. Bring back the weka.

The gregarious weka have long been significant to some Māori iwi in New Zealand as a valuable resource for food, oil, and feathers. Many of the early European settlers wrote about their big personalities and thievery. But what I really want to know is who they harassed before people came here.

Weka will not be told how to live their lives. And I admire that. 

I can’t tell you how often I’ve met travelers visiting New Zealand who rave about how many kiwi they saw in the wild: “OMG we saw, like, 12 kiwi during the day in Punakaiki! So cool!” Our national bird is beautiful, fluffy, nocturnal, and, most importantly, endangered.

You saw weka—a lot of weka. It really depends on my mood whether I burst their bubble or not. I do love to correct people, but I’m working on not doing that so much, as I’m aware it’s not one of my better qualities.

But my mood tonight is ruthless, so I hate to break it to you guys, but you are never going to just stumble across kiwi by accident, let alone many. You have to know where they hang out, go looking for them at night, and even then, you might not see them. Rakiura/Stewart Island is one of the places you have a high chance of seeing kiwi in the wild. 

However, if we can all get on the conservation train, Predator Free 2050, maybe one day we could stumble across 12 kiwis in the wild. How cool would that be?

So, if I’m being honest, weka have indeed risen in my regard. I have learned to overlook their annoying-ness in favor of their feisty, take-no-prisoners demeanor. You will probably see them on a trip around New Zealand, and any experience with weka is pretty fun. Unstoppable, they have endured and made their mark on us in many ways. Especially if they once stole your car keys.

They have a unique story and history and deserve to stand tall in our canon of national birds. Inspirational. Fearless. Defiant.

So perhaps I’ll take a page out of their books and try to walk through life with the confidence of a weka.

The post In defense of the bold and fearless weka: New Zealand’s most unruly bird appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Coningham Bay might look like any other bay in the vast, sprawling tundra of the Arctic. Wide and desolate, it is special because it has a narrow, shallow entrance. Inside, the bay itself is pretty shallow. Beluga whales like to come inside the bay and roll around in the shallows, scraping their skin. But because it’s very shallow at low tide, the belugas are trapped inside the bay until the tide comes in again.

Bring on the hungry polar bears!

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

When I first heard this, I almost didn’t believe it. There is a place where polar bears hunt beluga whales? I was skeptical. That sounds like some Planet Earth documentary, rare and uncommon, not something people usually see. 

Polar bears mainly hunt seals on the pack ice. While I’ve seen polar bears in the wild many times, I have never seen them hunt a whale or even make a kill. Doubtful me was all like, “Can they even take down a beluga?” Maybe an injured one or a calf, or maybe chow down once it’s already dead and washed ashore.  

Boy, was I wrong.

At over 70° N, Coningham Bay is not easy to access. Very few people will ever be lucky enough to visit here, and it’s usually only on the few expedition ships that make the full journey through the Northwest Passage.

Even then, it’s not guaranteed. Mother Nature rules the Arctic with an iron fist. 

Expedition travel is complicated by many factors, especially the weather. The swells of the water, the wind, the visibility, and the sea ice all call the shots. And, of course, polar bears and belugas keep their own schedules. We never know exactly where they will be. There might be none there and heaps in other places. It’s one of the reasons I love exploring this way.

It really is an adventure. It really is an expedition. We have to look and explore to find the amazing places. And hope that the place where polar bears hunt beluga whales delivers.

Bundled up in a million layers, it was a sunny morning when we approached Coningham Bay on Adventure Canada’s Out of the Northwest Passage trip. 

September in the Arctic is already full autumn, with snow just beginning to fall. Before we even arrived near Coningham Bay, we got the call over the radio that we could already spot more than a dozen bears in the area. Holy shit!

25 photos to inspire you to voyage through the Northwest Passage

I was so excited, even more excited than usual. Hanging out on the outer decks with my binoculars glued to my face, the suspense was killing me. I couldn’t wait til it was my turn in the zodiac to go out and see the bears. 

I’ll also mention that we follow the AECO guidelines for wildlife, including polar bears and whales: not approaching them, keeping a safe distance, never disturbing them, etc. Adventure Canada also has a solid team of experienced polar bear guards who come with deterrents and firearms; many of them are local Inuit. But don’t fret; it almost never happens that situations escalate to that. 

Almost as soon as we piled in the zodiac at the gangway, we began to see wildlife. Out of nowhere, a narwhal popped up right next to us in the shallows. Sea unicorn, omg!!! It just rolled around in the water next to us for ages. The water was nearly crystal clear, looking almost Mediterranean. You could see straight to the bottom, though ice cold. 

Zooming through the shallow entrance, Coningham Bay greeted us with about a dozen polar bears dotted all around. Mom and cubs. Big boys. Swimming bears. Even a freshly dead bear. And there were beluga splashing around, too. There were so many bears, usually solitary, just hanging around, unbothered by each other. There was enough food to go around. It’s hard not to want to pull sides – who do you root for? The bear or beluga?

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

And sure enough, we hit the motherload. There was a mom with two cubs feasting on a dead whale. As a photographer and storyteller who loves wildlife, seeing things in action is so exciting. I’ve been on a few safaris in Africa, and the most exciting viewings are when a predator is hunting. I know this is morbid, but seeing bears covered in gore was wild and unforgettable. 

Watching the polar bears and belugas of Coningham Bay ranks among my best wildlife experiences. I’ll never, ever forget that day.

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

The post Is this place for real? Where polar bears hunt beluga whales in Arctic Canada appeared first on Young Adventuress.

Years ago, when a friend visited overseas, I booked a super cute Airbnb on Waiheke Island. New Zealand’s hot wine destination had been beckoning me for years. Afterwards, I stayed friends with the Airbnb owner, Tim. When he turned one of the oldest homes in Reefton into a Gold Rush-era-inspired getaway, you bet I was going to be the first one there. 

 Cozy getaway? Little fire? Historical? The West Coast? Tell me more!

Over the years, my travel style has evolved. Growing up, I did not travel much. As soon as I could pay my way, I would city-hop as much as possible. I wanted to see it all. By my thirties, I had slowed right down. Happy to take my time, my values swapped over to slowing down, even returning again and again to the places I love the most. Often the places I stayed would be the destinations themselves. 

And the West Coast of New Zealand hasn’t stopped calling to me in a decade.

The Brewer’s Night Inn is unlike any place I’ve stayed before. The Victorian vibe is strong inside, but don’t worry—you don’t have to share it with other guests. Formerly the home of legendary brewer Stewart Monteith (Monteith’s is a super well-known beer in New Zealand), it’s been lovingly renovated from the original 1870s cabin.

Carefully crafted, it mimics what the old 19th-century golden mine cabins likely looked like here on the South Island but with modern comforts. From 1864 to 1867, thousands flocked to the West Coast. Here, once gold was discovered, it didn’t take long for prospectors to follow. 

25 photos that will inspire you to visit New Zealand’s West Coast

In 1866, Hokitika was the biggest settlement in New Zealand, with a population of more than 25,000 and more than 100 pubs. Considering the entire population of the West Coast is only 30,000-ish today, it’s hard to imagine. And if you’ve ever been to Hokitika today, it’s even harder to imagine. I think maybe there are four pubs there.

Blink, and you might miss it; Reefton is about an hour and a half north and inland. The first quartz reefs with gold were found in Reefton in 1870. This earned it the nickname “Reef Town,” aka Reefton today. 

Reefton was so important that it was the first town in New Zealand AND the Southern Hemisphere with electricity and street lights, earning it the moniker “Town of Light.” But like Hokitika and many other gold mining towns, once the supply ran dry, so did the town. 

Nowadays, less than a thousand Kiwis call Reefton home, though it’s starting to come back with a few cool investment projects, like the launch of the Reefton Distillery Co’s crowdfunding campaign a few years ago, bringing people to this quiet town. Their first spirit that was launched was called Little Biddy Gin, inspired by Bridget Goodwin, a big-drinking, four-foot-tall gold miner.

Still relatively undiscovered, Reefton is the perfect place to hide away for a little holiday. There are tons of walks and things to do nearby. Mass tourism definitely hasn’t hit here yet. 

Cozy booties by Glerups which uses New Zealand wool

A sleepy historic mining town, Reefton has had a bit of a renaissance over the past few years. It’s a place I’ve always passed through but never stayed the night. For someone who works a lot, it was so nice to snuggle away at Brewer’s Night Inn for a few days. I had so many plans to tramp and explore. But in the end, I mostly just hung out on the sofa reading by the fire. This is my kind of holiday.

So many thoughtful touches go above and beyond what you might expect from a stay like this. A huge concrete soak tub, copper furnishings, snuggly linen, historic Rimu timber walls with newsprint and vintage wallpaper, cozy lighting, a hidden wardrobe, and a big brown leather sofa that will make you want never to leave. Did I mention it’s pet-friendly?

The Brewer’s Night Inn has a music room with a century-old West Coast piano, turntable and epic stereo system, and carefully curated seasonal music. Considering my taste in music tends towards Taylor Swift and Shakira, this was somewhat lost on me, but as someone who loves travel and unique spaces, this room blew me away!

Only a few minutes walk towards the main street in Reefton, everything about my stay here was perfect. You bet I’ll be back!

Many thanks to the Brewer’s Night Inn for hosting me in Reefton – like always, I’m keeping it real – all opinions are my own like you could expect less from me

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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.

Actually, if I’m being honest, I am more of a beach person now than I used to be. Pretentious young traveler me always wanted to be doing things and taking in the sights. Relaxing and holiday never belonged in the same sentence. I need to SEE and DO it ALL.

Having burnt myself out so many times since, your girl loves a lazy holiday now. Show me the resort happy hour!

But back to the ocean. With no idea where this passion came from, I can say now that I am really happy at sea. To visit the Arctic is to fall in love. I adore it. I enjoy the rocking of the boat. The wild weather and waves. The feeling of transiting in a new way. The briny air and the feeling of insignificance. Mother Natch is in charge at sea.

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

I’ve been traveling to the polar worlds by ship for years and years, making some of my favorite travel memories along the way. In these remote corners of the earth, getting around by boat is pretty much the only feasible way to visit the Arctic. My job onboard was always travel content, photography, writing, and storytelling. I sat somewhere in between the expedition team and passengers. 

But deep down, I knew I wanted to be part of the team. I wanted to get my hands dirty and learn how to work at sea. In 2023, I finally found the courage to pursue working as an expedition guide on the Ocean Endeavour, an expedition ship alternating between the Arctic with Adventure Canada and the Antarctic with Intrepid, summer to summer. 

A new polar chapter begins

I spent three months onboard with Adventure Canada last summer, traveling from Scotland to the Faroes to Iceland to Greenland and finishing in Canada. It was the adventure of a lifetime, and I feel honored to be part of their family. There’s such a close-knit vibe onboard. My main job was as media, taking photos and gathering content for storytelling, but I also doubled as part of the expedition team. After a decade of working independently, being part of a team felt so good. 

And arguably the best part of it all? Three months at sea means you see a ton of cool stuff. It allowed me to build on my experience, revisit places I loved, and see things through fresh eyes. If you visit the Arctic one day, hopefully, you will get to share some of these adventures, too. Here are ten of the coolest things I saw while onboard with Adventure Canada – enjoy!

1. Polar bears eating a beluga whale

I’ve managed to see some pretty amazing things in my life, especially since I became a full-time travel blogger in 2013. But without a doubt, one of the coolest experiences of all happened while visiting the Arctic in the Northwest Passage last September.

There is this incredible place called Coningham Bay, with a wide, shallow bay with a narrow inlet. Beluga whales like to swim into the bay to roll around and scrape off their old skin. But they become trapped inside at low tide because of the shallow entrance. Dinner time for the polar bears. 

Here, we saw over a dozen polar bears, including cubs feasting on dead whales. It was wild. Only in my morbid dreams did I imagine seeing polar bears with bloody, gorey faces. There were beluga in the bay splashing around and even narwhal! It ranks at the top of the coolest wildlife experiences ever. 

2. Sailing from Iceland to Greenland with Margaret Attwood

One of the coolest experiences last summer at sea was that Canadian icon and legend Margaret Attwood was onboard with us as a special guest on the Iceland to Greenland: In the Wake of the Vikings trip. If you visit the Arctic, arriving by ship is a real adventure.

A longtime friend of Adventure Canada, Margaret Attwood, joins in on a trip per year. A passionate conservationist and bird nerd along with her late husband, it was ridiculously cool to be on board with her on such a fun adventure. Very much like everybody else except with a cunning and dark sense of humor, it was inspirational to be around one of the greatest writers of our age. Hanging out with her and hearing her stories, you kind of just shut up and listen because they’re so riveting. 

She even penned a short story called Stone Mattress while onboard years ago. About revenge and murder (of course) on the Northwest Passage traveling by expedition ship, it’s now part of the book of the same name. 

3. Finally seeing the Northern Lights

I am so happy to report that I have finally seen the Northern Lights after all these years. It was a huge experience for me and one that I almost missed out on. 

I’ve been to the Arctic a few times, and Aurora territory, and I have never seen them. I spent a week in Arctic Finland in winter—cloudy the entire time. Other times, I’ve been in the Arctic in summertime when it doesn’t get dark—no lights. I’ve seen their equivalent a lot in New Zealand, but down here, it is nowhere near as bright or dramatic—we’re not far enough south. 

But this time, in September, as we made our way south along the western coast of Greenland, the Northern Lights came out in full force. I was getting over being sick and had gone to bed early when I started to hear knocking on my door. I ignored it for ages, but my resilient boat bestie, Krista, was not leaving til I got up to see them. Thank god for good friends!

Throwing my gear over my pajamas, we made our way to the top deck, and the aurora was popping off! It was insane! I watched it dance for ages, took a few photos, and just jumped around with everyone, celebrating such a cool experience. If you visit the Arctic and want to see the Northern Lights, Greenland is the place to be.

4. Hanging out with the Shetland ponies in Scotland

My very first trip with Adventure Canada was Scotland Slowly, which explores the northern Scottish Isles. Exploring Scotland by sea was incredible, and going by expedition ship meant we could take in many places that are usually hard to get to.

As a huge history nerd, I loved this trip. In fact, most of the books I bought for the whole season were on this trip around Scotland. 

But if I’m being honest here, my favorite part was being around the Shetland ponies. The Shetland Islands are not easy to access, nearly 200 kilometers north of mainland Scotland, close to Norway. We called into the tiny island of Foula for the day, home to a few dozen humans and a hell of a lot more ponies. With beautiful bird cliffs and incredible views, and tiny horses roaming around, it was a real highlight for me for the whole some.  

5. Standing on sea ice in Baffin Bay

By this point, I’ve been to the Arctic and Antarctic many times and spent a fair amount of time moving through sea ice, either by ship or on zodiac cruises. Punching through the ice, the crackles and booms against the ship, looking towards the horizon for polar bears, sea ice exploration is one of my favorite things about polar travel. It makes you feel like you’re exploring if you visit the Arctic.

Baffin Bay sprawls across northern Canada to Greenland. Frozen all year, channels and large parts open up in the summertime. Ice conditions definitely dictate how we travel by ship. Ships are assigned ice class rankings, depending on the strengthening to go through sea ice. The ice can be thick or thin, super-condensed, or spread out. There are heaps of factors that go into understanding sea ice conditions – many I’m still learning myself. 

But one thing I have never done before is land on sea ice, i.e., get out and walk on it. It has to be old, thick, and sturdy. This season, we found the perfect sea ice to land on in Baffin Bay, nudging the zodiacs onto the ice before hopping out and exploring for a bit. It was a really, really cool experience that not many of us have done before. It was so special. 

6. Getting a real education about Inuit life and history

I’ll be completely honest: I did not know heaps about Inuit life and culture before heading to the Arctic. I knew a fair amount about the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada, along with the horrors of the residential schools, mostly from crime podcasts I listen to. 

But then, there is only so much you can read about until you experience it yourself. And there is only so much you can even begin to comprehend as an outsider. 

Adventure Canada cares a lot about indigenous life, especially since they operate around their lands. Each trip has many local Inuk guides on board as cultural educators. They even have the only Inuk Expedition Leader in the industry. Everything happens in a real, authentic way; nothing is hidden or sugarcoated. We visited abandoned communities where Inuit residents were forced to move, see graves, and learn about the tragic history, particularly in Canada. It was really eye-opening.

7. Getting up close and personal with puffins in the Faroe Islands

Just like the ponies of Scotland, I was enraptured by another adorable creature – the puffin. If you visit the Arctic, hopefully you’ll see them!

I had seen puffins before on my first trip to Iceland a million years ago, but it was before I had a telephoto lens and they weren’t particularly up close. This time around, I saw them heaps, sometimes right next to you, and wow, are they one of the cutest birds of all time ever. I will die on this hill!

Much smaller than they look, they fly with the weirdest gait, legs splayed wide. We saw them a few times around Iceland and then heaps in the Faroe Islands, where they hang out on the cliffs next to some of the most popular walks. 

8. Having my mind blown in the Torngat Mountains 

At the edge of the Arctic Circle in Canada is one of the most incredible wilderness areas I had never heard of: the Torngat Mountains. 

I hadn’t been onboard the Ocean Endeavour long before I heard that one of the most universally beloved trips is their Greenland and Wild Labrador adventure, which spends time in the remote Torngats. Forever enamored by the very far north, land of bears and ice, Labrador hadn’t really occurred to me as a place I would love.

My very last trip of the season went here, and holy crap, guys, it was my favorite place of all. I’ll definitely go into this in detail later, but the Torngats might be my favorite mountain range in the world. A special Inuit homeland, this place is highly protected and only open for a few weeks a year. There are no roads anywhere near here. But because of Adventure Canada’s incredible relationship with Inuit, and by bringing locals onboard this trip as guides, we are able to spend nearly a week in the Torngat Mountains – with it all to ourselves. And the bears. There are tons of bears here. 

9. Crazy sunsets at sea in East Greenland

By mid-July we were fully immersed in the Arctic as we sailed from Iceland over to Greenland. We spent a good amount of time exploring the remote eastern side of Greenland, where very few people reside. With lots of sea ice and good weather, it was beautiful cruising through the most picturesque of Arctic landscapes. 

But what made it even more beautiful than normal with the crazy sunrises and sunsets we were getting. Sadly, this wasn’t for a good reason. 2023 was Canada’s worst wildfire summer ever. Nearly 20 million hectares of land went up in flame, burning for months at a time. 

And the smoke drifted to Greenland. Though it wasn’t super smokey or strong in southeastern Greenland, the haze contributed to long, misty sunsets that were out of this world—a beautiful tragedy.

10. Wandering the magnificent autumn tundra

Autumn comes early if you visit the Arctic. By September 1st, the entire countryside had turned red and gold in the far north. The mountains had their peaks dusted with the first snow, and there was a bite to the air heralding the change of seasons. The midnight sign was gone, and night returned, bringing dancing auroras amongst the stars. 

I love autumn so much, and it was cool to experience it in an entirely new landscape. There are no trees this far north, so the tundra changes colors instead. It’s also when all the berries come out, so it made hikes even better, munching on them. 

Would you like to experience some of these things if you visit the Arctic? Or have you already? Share!

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 10 incredible moments from three months at sea in the Arctic 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.

I always think of that George Mallory quote when asked why he wanted to climb Mt. Everest: “Because it’s there.” It’s either the dumbest reason or the cleanest reason. And since old mate George died on Everest, leaving the question of whether or not he was the first person ever to summit it in question, the world leaned towards it being aspirational. 

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

Fully gripped by the polar bug for nearly a decade, I have adopted the habit of reading many of the journals and accounts of Arctic explorers in the 19th and 20th centuries. And there is no shortage of material when it comes to the Lost Franklin Expedition (capitalized for emphasis) and the quest to conquer the Northwest Passage.

For hundreds of years, Europeans were obsessed with finding a way through the mythical Northwest Passage. There are several main routes through Canada’s Arctic archipelago of 36,500 islands, connecting the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Seeking an alternative trade route to Asia faster than via the Cape of Good Hope, it took centuries for white people to properly find a path through thousands of kilometers of icy, unforgivable wilderness. Inuit and other indigenous people were, of course, there the entire time. 

For death and glory, gentlemen!

Sir John Franklin was an exceptionally average British naval officer who somehow managed to land the position of leading the best-outfitted polar expedition of the time to travel the Northwest Passage completely. Departing England in 1845 with the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, they were last seen anchored to an iceberg in Baffin Bay (never attach a boat to an iceberg, folks; it’s super dangerous).

The mystery of what exactly happened to Franklin, his fancy ships, and his crew of 128 men has captivated the world since he didn’t return. While bits and pieces were found, we do know cannibalism was involved, solidifying the mystery into the global imagination. Hundreds of missions were launched to search for them, but the full story has never been revealed. 

It wasn’t until 60 years later that legendary Norwegian Polar explorer Ronald Amundsen finally completed the journey from the Atlantic to the Pacific onboard his little boat, the Gjøa. Ever since I don’t think there is a voyage more iconic in the Arctic than traversing the Northwest Passage. Climate change makes the Northwest Passage more navigable than ever with less sea ice. 

Last summer, I spent nearly three weeks with Adventure Canada, voyaging through the Northwest Passage by expedition ship. It was an iconic, unforgettable experience; here are some of my photos that made me fall in love with it.

Beechey Island

One of the big highlights of cruising the Northwest Passage has to be visiting Beechey Island. If you’re interested in the history and mystery around the Franklin Expedition, Beechey Island is an important site to visit. I’ve visited Beechey Island a few times now. Every single time, I think to myself, how the hell did these men survive here for years?! Cold, windy, and desolate in summertime, I can’t even fathom this place in winter. To travel the Northwest Passage meant hardship.

Notorious for being the place where the expedition first overwintered from 1845–1846, you can see three graves of Franklin’s sailors. This gave some insight into the beginning of what happened once they disappeared. It also launched the theory of lead poisoning when the bodies when studied. Google “Beechey Island mummies” if you want to unlock some new nightmares. 

We also visit Beechey Island on Adventure Canada’s High Arctic Explorer trips too. 

Coningham Bay

The Northwest Passage is a great place to see polar bears in the wild. Over half of the global polar bear population lives in the Canadian Arctic.

While traveling the Northwest Passage last summer onboard the Ocean Endeavour, I heard about this crazy bay where beluga whales go to roll around and scrape their dead skin off in the shallows. They are trapped inside the bay at low tide because the entrance is so narrow and shallow, and polar bears flock here to hunt them.

At first, I was like, that’s insane and can’t be real. Polar bears hunting whales?!

But then, when we rocked up to Coningham Bay, sure enough, there were over a dozen polar bears eating beluga whales! We passed narwhal as we zoomed inside the bay, and there were beluga splashing around, too. Mum and cubs, big bears, even a bear that had just died. I can’t stress how rare it is to see multiple bears together who aren’t a family. 

It was wild, and it definitely ranks high as one of the coolest wildlife experiences of my life!

Port Epworth

One of the coolest things about Adventure Canada is that they have had a long-term relationship with Canadian icon Margaret Attwood. A passionate conservationist and birder with her late husband, Graeme Gibson, they support and encourage many conservation efforts and leaders, especially with BirdLife International.

She generally comes on a trip per year. Last year, I was lucky enough to sail with her from Iceland to Greenland. She is even more amazing in person. A few years ago, she even wrote a short story onboard the Ocean Endeavour called Stone Mattress about murder and revenge. It is so dark and so good. 

I won’t give too much away, but the setting was Port Epworth in the Northwest Passage. Home of stromatolites, fossilized algae colonies, they were some of the earliest forms of oxygen production; they’re really freaking old. Stromatolite in Greek means more or less “stone mattress.” Strikingly similar in appearance to cinnamon buns, which the kitchen served that day, sparking the idea for some of the guys onboard to form a band called the Frosted Stromatolites, jamming after dinner some nights.

I’ll just say it was a really fun trip. 

Baffin Bay/Saknirutiak Imanga

If you travel by sea through the Canadian Arctic and western Greenland, you’ll eventually reach the vast icy wilderness of Baffin Bay. 

Home to mostly sea ice, lots of wildlife, and a ton of history, Baffin Bay is an iconic waterway in the Arctic. We venture into Baffin Bay on most Arctic trips with Adventure Canada, whether we are crossing over to Canada from Greenland or along as we voyage up and down Greenland’s western coastline. One of the coolest experiences of the season was landing on some old sea ice and walking around in Baffin Bay. That was new for me!

Postcards from icy Baffin Bay

Indigenous peoples had settled around the area for thousands of years, and some of the earliest Europeans venturing into the Arctic, including early Norse colonizers, also visited. Baffin Bay is an important hub if you want to travel the Northwest Passage one day.

Gjoa Haven/Uqsuqtuuq

Netsilik Inuit have long used the area around Gjoa Haven/Uqsuqtuuq for traditional hunting and fishing grounds. But like so many places in the Canadian Arctic, the history we see today is based on when Europeans arrived to travel the Northwest Passage.

Gjoa Haven is a community where legendary explorer Roald Amundsen based himself for two years on his journey to be the first European to sail through the Northwest Passage. Here, he learned so much about surviving in the Arctic from the Inuit. It was named after his boat, the Gjøa.

Nowadays, it’s a remote community, and we spent the day here visiting the incredible Nattilik Heritage Centre and at the school. It was the first Arctic community I ever visited. 

Powell Inlet (in the Tallurutiup Imanga National Marine Conservation Area)

Ok, guys, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: after three months at sea working in the Arctic, I can safely say that I’m more scared of a walrus than a polar bear. I’m only partly kidding. 

We all know the king of the north is the great white polar bear. Something everyone longs to see, but only in a safe environment. Traveling with a gun in polar bear country is pretty standard wide across the Arctic. Most expedition companies will have polar bear guards, scouting landing sites and setting safe perimeters for guests to explore.

It’s to protect the bears as much as the humans and many protocols exist. NO ONE ever wants to shoot a bear. Any hint of danger and landings are called off. I felt totally safe everywhere, including in Svalbard. Most of the bears we saw ignored us, including one day in Labrador, where a big fat chonky mama bear snoozed amongst the tundra berries for hours. 

However, I reckon the real predator of the Arctic is the walrus. Hear me out. If their crazy red eyes didn’t hint at their true nature, just watch some YouTube videos of them popping zodiacs in Russia. Terrifying. After spending so much time with Inuit guides and plowing through tons of old Arctic expedition journals, I learned that everyone fears the mighty walrus. 

There are so many stories of them attacking kayaks and boats with people, torpedoing up from underneath, and killing people. Up here, humans are very wary of the ferocious walrus. But seeing them (at a safe distance) is pretty special and not super common. 

Croker Bay 

It was one of those misty, low-cloud days when we cruised into Croker Bay. It is located on the southern side of Devon Island, the largest uninhabited island in the world. In 1819, British polar explorer William Edward Parry named it in honor of John Wilson Croker, the First Secretary to the Admiralty at the time.

At the head of the fiord, the spectacular Croker Glacier drops down to the water from the Devon ice cap. As the day darkened, the sun peeked through the clouds above the glacier, creating the most beautiful misy light. We cruised back and forth along the glacier face by ship, allowing us to get close to the ice. 

It was a spectacular evening to travel the Northwest Passage.

Dundas Harbour

Regarding the darker side of history in the Arctic, Dundas Harbour sits high on my list of grim places. It didn’t help that it was moody, snowing intermittently when we arrived. The ground was strewn with huge, grisly bones left by polar bears. The vibe was definitely bleak and desolate.

Located on the eastern side of Devon Island, Dundas Harbour was set up in the 1920s as an outpost by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). This allowed them to stake their claim in the Arctic. All the big guns were doing this at the time. And speaking of guns, two young Mounties stationed there died. One a suicide, the other when a gun accidentally discharged. Their graves overlook the harbor. 

But the even darker side of Dundas Harbour began shortly after when the Hudson’s Bay Company leased it as a trading post, coinciding with Canada’s High Arctic relocation program, forcibly moving Inuit around the Arctic. The impact of forcibly taking people from their homes and traditional hunting grounds and moving them where the government decided they should be has had such traumatic consequences that ring strong today among Canadian Inuit and other First Nations people.

Port Leopold

When we first arrived at Port Leopold, we could see a mother polar bear and cubs on shore, heralding a change of plans. 

Instead, we cruised near a new landing site on Somerset Island, surrounded by iconic cliffs and Arctic landscapes. In 1848, British explorer James Clark Ross spent a winter here during his search for the missing Franklin expedition. Port Leopold was once a Hudson’s Bay Company trading post. 

The change meant we were able to visit Thule archaeological sites. This style of expedition travel gave us a feeling of discovery. How many people ever walked here? Not a lot. 

Would you ever be up to travel the Northwest Passage 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 25 photos to inspire you to voyage through the Northwest Passage 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!

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