An island retreat – Lankawi – Malaysia.

New Years Eve sunset on Lankawi’s Pentai Cenang beach.

Kuala Lumpur is a sparkling metropolis with many cultures all melted into one.  But if it’s sun, sand and sea that you’re after then Malaysia’s Lankawi island, just an hours flight from KL, is a haven of stunning beach tranquility.  For a small island, there is a huge variety of styles and levels of accommodation from hostels to luxury resort hotels and all have their charms.

The main beach, Pentai Cenang, is bustling but is still a wonderful paradise of white sand and azure waters where you can partake in a variety of reasonably priced water sports if the mood takes you.  By night, the beach is buzzing with bars and fire dancers that draw crowds via incredible sea food barbeques; this beach has everything, not least an exhilarating atmosphere.

When visiting Lankawi, you will be bombarded with options for both day and night activities, it will be hard to choose and even drag yourself away from the stunning beaches.  However, there is one thing that you must do when visiting Lankawi and that is take advantage of the many sunset cruises on offer.  Yes, I know this sounds like a holiday cliche but it really is incredible value for money and a beautiful way to see the island.  The evening cruises usually take a one off payment and that includes all food and drinks for the evening.  There are also ample opportunities to launch yourself into the stunning emerald waters if you so desire.  As with everything in Lankawi, the prices are very reasonable but this is one thing that you will remember for a lifetime.

 

Magnificent Malaysia…..coming soon….

A.B.C……..Not so easy as 1,2,3!

Photo by F Wiltshire

A.B.C:  Annapurna. Base. Camp.  Nepal is synonymous with the mighty mount Everest and one often thinks of Everest when Nepal is mentioned.  The tallest mountain in the world attracts hundreds of tourists each year attempting to reach base camp or even summit.  Famous for its starring role in ‘Into Thin Air’ among many other books, documentaries and films.  However, in October 2014, it was Annapurna that stepped onto the main stage when blizzards and avalanches in the area brought tragedy claiming the lives of 43 people.

Annapurna
Photo by F Wiltshire

By this point I’d already booked my flights to trek in the same area and despite warnings from well-meaning friends, decided to go anyway.  Sometimes in taking a risk we make the best discoveries and have real, enriching experiences;  this however, was a very real risk.

For a week, we had trekked every day through a variety of beautiful and varied terrain.  Carved out arable land where vast hills had steps cut into the sides.  Rich, thick forests full of fusia pink rhododendron trees giving way to a darker jungle like forest, shrouded by a thick and varied

The forests of the Annapurna Conservation Area.
Photo by F Wiltshire

canopy of trees.  Eventually, the forest thinned out and the mighty mountains of the Annapurna range became visible.  Winding, steep steps led both up and down the mountain paths.  It’s hard to put an exact number on the number of steps climbed but I would be sure to put it into the hundreds, at least – it made my legs burn at any rate.  On reaching a small town called Dovan, standing at an elevation of 2500m the valley seemed to rise even steeper and the mountains finally gave you a glimpse of the task ahead.  The lush, green hills were now replaced by dark, jagged snow dappled mountains that seem to converge conspiratorially, barely shrouding the Annapurna range that lay intimidatingly behind.  The famous fishtail peak of Machhapuchhre poked out beyond the dark gateway, jagged, gleaming and snow-capped.  The clouds hung low casting a further shadow over the darkness that lay ahead and it’s hard to believe that the mountain paths are penetrable enough to walk through.  I certainly had the sense that the next few days were not going to be easy and I was starting to understand how small and insignificant I am in the face of these expansive forces of nature.

Photo by F Wiltshire

The following day saw us climbing and descending endless stone-stepped paths and for some of the journey we were led back through mountain forests.

Winding mountain paths.
Photo by F Wiltshire

As we climbed, the temperature took a noticeable fall and it felt as if the darkness was closing in again.  I looked over my shoulder and noticed that as the green hills of the valley were disappearing, the billowing grey clouds were descending and appeared to be chasing us on our climb.  This is, of course, ridiculous, but it  added to the growing sense of nature’s power.  Maybe not so ridiculous after all, those eminent clouds grew darker and it began to snow.  This snow continued throughout the day and the fear of a repeat of last night’s blizzard up at Machhapuchhre base camp was becoming more real.  As we continued, we passed a sign that read ‘Avalanche Risk Area’ and then stumbled upon a huge area of snow that had fallen as an avalanche maybe weeks before.  Again, the reminders of Mother Nature’s power served to push us on quicker to base camp.

As the altitude rose, the upward climbs became much harder and I noticed that I became short of breath more quickly and was having to will my legs to keep moving.  As we continued to climb, the snow came thicker and faster and visibility was lower.

Photo by F Wiltshire

Every now and again, I would stop, look around and find myself completely in awe of the scenery that surrounded me, at times I felt overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the mountains.  The final uphill climb to M.B.C was hard going as the altitude sucked our breath and energy and this was furthered by the heavy snowfall.  Walking now became an effort as we had to use our poles to pull us up through the thick snow.  By the time we reached M.B.C, neither Annapurna nor Machhapuchhre were visible and the blue roof of base camp luckily poked out of the thickening snow as a sign of hope.

Photo by F Wiltshire

The communal area of M.B.C was becoming increasingly jam packed full of climber and trekkers of varying nationalities.  As the various groups desperately tried to keep warm in the plummeting temperatures, the anticipation and excitement of tomorrow’s trek to Annapurna base camp was audible.  This was heightened by the fact that the heavy snowfall, somewhat uncharacteristic for this time of year, began to lay doubt in our minds as to whether getting to A.B.C would even be possible.  However, as night wore on and sleep evaded us due to altitude sickness, the snow gave us no hope of relenting and our dreams of climbing further to A.B.C seemed to be slipping further away with each passing hour.

4 am.  Pitch black.  I slept in all my clothes last night and in amongst the shivering and what seemed hallucinogenic dreams of altitude sickness, I must have slept….somehow.  I opened the door to a clear night sky and waited, apprehensively, for signs of life among my fellow trekkers.  Sure enough, people started to emerge and climbing groups mobilised for an early morning advance to base camp.  Despite all the doubt and apprehension, it was happening.  Yes, I felt like my head was stuck in a vice and yes, the snow was up to my knees but there was no way that that was going to stop me.  Not now.

Photo by F Wiltshire

We slowly edged forward, one breathless step at a time following the thin stream of light from our head torches.  Gradually as night faded and dawn arose, the incredible, crisp outlines of Machhapuchhre and Annapurna came into view and once again I felt in awe of nature’s mighty power.  Each time I managed to look up, I saw a stream of light from our head torches and fresh, powdery knee deep snow.  The pain I felt from altitude sickness was now overtaken by my desire to get to base camp no matter what.  I had to concentrate on each step and each swing of the pole, almost meditatively moving forward one count at a time.  Stopping was not an option.

After an hour and 45 minutes, the sun was up and light ricochet off Annapurna’s jagged peak.

Photo by F Wiltshire

Bright, white light also rebounded off the crisp, fresh snow and it was hard to remember that it was still only 6am.

On reaching the Annapurna base camp sign, weary climbers suddenly regained composure and found the energy for numerous photos and celebrations to mark their achievement.

Photo by F Wiltshire

The atmosphere was certainly jovial and a far cry from the feelings of pain and intense concentration of an hour earlier.  Even though we had reached base camp, we had a little further to go and as the excitement and adrenaline waned, despite the bright sun light, energy was draining.  We walked up to a precipice overlooking one of Annapurna’s glaciers.

Photo by F Wiltshire

We now stood a good 20 meters or so above the glacier and in places the drop was sheer and we needed to keep our wits about us, despite our exhaustion.  Here, beautiful prayer flags swept forward towards Annapurna’s peak as this was the original base camp sight.  The brightness of the morning only enhanced the incredible silvers, blues and bright whites of this incredible mountain range.  Up above, helicopters headed over to Annapurna 2 and in the distance,  the roar of avalanches only served to remind us that much of natures beauty comes great risk and while we had now made it to our goal, we had to descend back through the avalanche risk area, on a warm day after heavy snow fall.  Alarm bells rang, echoing Octobers tragedy. We were swiftly on our way back to MBC to collect equipment and beat a hasty descent.   However, we were lucky and made it back down to Dovan safely, very privileged to have witnessed such an incredible sight that will remain with us for ever.

Photo by F Wiltshire

VYAADAHIKANA – ‘It is possible’.

For years now, an increasing number of travellers have volunteered as a way of gaining a real insight into the authentic lives and cultures of those people with whom they choose to live and work.  It offers a far richer experience in terms of giving travellers a truer knowledge of a place and people in terms of economy, politics, geography, agriculture, education….the list is endless.  Philanthropists can feel that through their trip, they have given back to society, helped others and changed lives.  It’s true that through the rich travel experience that voluntourism offers, lives are changed but not in the way that we would necessarily think or hope.  Whilst my experiences of voluntourism has been wholly positive, they have not been entirely as I expected.  Feeling truly humbled I left acutely aware that my presence had not changed the lives of those I’d left behind but that my interaction with the people involved had actually changed me.  Mine was the life that had changed and been made richer.

Yamba is a small village sitting at an elevation of 4384 feet (roughly the height of Ben Nevis) in the mountains of the Tanga region in Tanzania.  Sitting amid the lush green forests atop the mountain, the village stares out over the peaks rolling into the distance.  This location provides a number of problems for its villagers.  Just a few years ago, there was no road to the foot of the mountain and therefore getting to hospital was an arduous sometimes impossible task, particularly in an emergency.  With no ambulances available and no way of transporting patients there was a high mortality rate among both adults and children.  In a small, close community, the effects of this were devastating.  All aspects of life were impacted and for those that did survive, life was unimaginably tough.  Village Africa is a charity set up by Caroline Johnston to provide sustainable development to the village of Yamba with the focus on improving health and education first and foremost in order to provide villagers with the knowledge to build and sustain a better life, thus reducing death rates and improving life chances and opportunities across the villages varying demographic.  The work that Caroline and her dedicated team have done is incredible and a testament to the Village Africa mission statement that ‘it is possible’.  A child hood friend of mine returned from Yamba a few years back so impassioned and humbled by her experience that I was inspired and I too wanted to go to Yamba to help and see what I could do.

Stepping out of the jeep I wanted to throw up!  We left Kipepeo this morning at some ungodly hour and the epic voyage that began in the dark this morning, half an hour ago climaxed with a jeep ride up the mountain.  Now, I’m really not a fan of heights and we had just been thrown around a packed vehicle up a mountain the height of Ben Nevis and every time I gazed out of the window for some sign of encouragement I was slapped in the face with the view of a sheer drop.  The 4 x 4 can’t go any further so we have to walk the rest of the way.  In my eye line there seemed to be a rather large, by my reckoning, fairy sheer rock face that needed to be climbed before we could go any further.   So, apprehensively, out of the jeep I got.  Tears sprung to my eyes.  Not because I was anticipating an arduous climb or because I was fighting back the nausea of that ride, but because I’d been met with a wall of smiles and song.  It seemed that the entire village were there to greet us and the cacophony of melodic singing wrapped around us and any anxiety melted away.  I was blown away in fact.  Gazing at the crowd, the children beamed triumphantly and were clearly very curious about who we are and what we were doing there.  Some were more reticent but most danced around us chuntering happily in the broken English that they’d been learning in school.  Lifting my rucksack out of the jeep it was immediately snatched away by an old lady.  Before I had time to wrestle it back, she’d sprinted off up the mountain with it.  Let’s bear in mind that I carried it like it was harbouring bricks; this seemingly old lady scampered off as if it were full of marshmallows.  I felt terrible!

Granted, there was a short walk to the village from here but it was truly beautiful.  Making our way through the long foliage we had to be mindful of snakes but we saw none.  Once we arrived at the village we were met by a collection of small, mud house.  Inside they consisted of one or two rooms, a bed or two, maybe a table.  Life generally happened outside, as a vibrant, close community.

Immigration laws in Tanzania changed just at the point of our arrival in Yamba and so our original plan to assist with projects and teach in the school had to be abandoned.  However, the next two weeks were spent visiting, learning and being inspired by Caroline, her team and the villagers themselves.  What stood out for me was that despite the hardship these people lived in, they demonstrated a zest for life that was infectious and yet incredibly humbling.  These people could not do enough for us.  We were welcomed into homes and despite our relative wealth; everyone we met was desperate to give.  Whilst visiting some of the housing projects in the village, we met a 35 year old woman.  She lived in a house of one bed room, with five children, her husband had died a year or so earlier.  Village Africa was in the process of building her a new house at the time, with more room for her children who were now delighted to be attending school.  We sat and talked with her for a short time.  As we rose from the small wooden blocks that acted as seats, she motioned for us to wait as she hurriedly scampered outside.  She returned with three eggs from her chickens that aimlessly wandered in and out of the house.  Once again, I stifled the rising lump in my throat and tears that stung my eyes.  These three eggs could have fed her and her five children but she wanted to give them, and she seemed truly over the moon to be able to do this for us.  I was stunned by the complete lack of selfishness.

This was a theme throughout my time in Yamba.  Whilst, we weren’t allowed to work with the children in an official capacity in school, we endeavoured to teach them through play and stories during their free time.  One day we’d organised a sports afternoon at which the entire village seemed to be in attendance.  One of the charities missions has been to ensure that the villagers and in particular the children, all have shoes.  Wearing shoes prevents direct contact with the rust red sand that contains small worm like creatures called jiggers which burrow into the skin through the sole of the foot.  Inevitably, however supply sometimes outweighs demand and some of the children attending the sports afternoon were not wearing anything on their feet.  This didn’t stop them and they give it their all.  Returning to the village from the relatively flat patch of ground that we called the sports ground, I stopped dead in my tracks.  My flip-flop had broken and so I continued bare foot worrying about jiggers.  Just then a sprightly young lad of about 12 who’d been on my relay team sprinted behind me, grabbed the knarled flip-flop out of my hand and continued on up the hill, looking back only to shoot me with his stellar smile. Limping tentatively, I continued on my way somewhat bemused.

The following morning, I heard a knock at my hut and wearily made my way to the door.  I looked around and saw nothing.  Then I noticed my shoe.  Fully mended.  I peered around again, drawn to the sound of a low-pitched giggle.  Shyly hiding behind a tree was the young boy from yesterday.  Waving timidly, he scampered away and was gone.  Picking up my shoe, once again I am blown away by the humbling kindness of this child who I later found out took my shoe home to his father begging him to fix it for me.

There are many more stories such as this that I could regale you with from my time in Yamba.  I tried to help in ways that I could while I was there, I left most of my clothes and shoes when I left.  On my return home I signed up for a marathon to raise money for Village Africa.  However, I was under absolutely no illusions that my trip to Yamba changed the lives of those that lived there.  They had in fact changed mine.  I left inspired by all those whom I came into contact with in Yamba and during those times now when I read or hear about the evil that humans can bestow upon each other I think back to my time in Yamba and remember the kindness, humility and beauty of the folk that I encountered.

Village Africa are currently running a school textbook appeal and a tree appeal.  For more information on how to donate please go to:

http://www.mycharitypage.com

http://www.villageafrica.org.uk

www.facebook.com/villageafrica

http://www.twitter.com/villageafrica

All photo’s by F. Wiltshire.

Welcome!

Adventure is everywhere. Capture it. Live.

Where do I start?  I’m a freelance travel writer, adventurer and blogger currently living in London. The purpose of this blog is to share with you the adventures and experiences that I seek out.  It’s true that some of these adventures will be in far flung places but I also seek to prove that adventure can be found everywhere if you’re prepared to find it.  Life in a city, when surrounded by people can sometimes actually have the effect of disconnecting us from others.  Often getting away from the hustle and bustle of modern city life, travelling to places of remote, natural beauty can often show us the beauty of human nature in those that we meet along the way.

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A Sense of Direction.

In the wake of the release of the film ‘Wild’ and Levison Wood’s current Channel 4 series, ‘Walking the Nile’ our attention has been drawn to the brave soul-searching protagonist embarking on a life changing journey.

There are several books, films and documentaries out there that may capture our interest in the same way but one that recently caught my eye was based on the titles alone:  ‘A Sense of Direction’.  Gideon Lewis-Kravs’ account of his travels not only documents his geographical journey through the Camino de Santiago and Shikoku trail (among others) but he openly allows us into the inner journey that takes him to each destination.  This makes for interesting reading and those of us who can relate to the book’s tag line ‘pilgrimage for the restless and the hopeful’ will feel an affinity with Lewis-Kravs as we follow his various pilgrimages in an attempt to find answers to some of life’s biggest questions.

While this is a deep, soul searching journey, it is written in such a way that you are easily drawn into the narrative.  In fact, the humour injected into his writing actually makes you feel like one of his mates accompanying him on his many pilgrimages – I actually laughed out loud on a number of occasions!

I would recommend this for any adventurer, explorer, traveller out there.  You won’t find action-packed adrenaline and drama here but a well told story that we can all related to and you will find it both entertaining and thought provoking.

On that note, I’m off to plan my own next epic journey.

Patagonian Wilderness

Yes. The Perito Merino Galcier is incredible and is a must see for anyone visiting Argentinian Patagonia but even out of season you will be encountered with numerous tourists on the same mission.  If you are seeking an experience away from the crowds and into the wilderness then Fitz Roy National Park is the place.

Fitz Roy National Park.
Photo by F. Wiltshire

There are many tour operators that will take you there but it is very easy and more interesting to take the bus from near -by El Calafate.  Once you leave the pretty town with its ski resort edge, you will be surrounded by vast expanses of beautiful nothing.  Argentina is huge and people have only settled in the most habitable parts of the country.  Therefore, on a journey such as this you can look out of the window and see no evidence of human life for miles.  Here, the mountains reign supreme.

As the sun rises, you will stop for a much needed hot coffee at the only building I’ve seen in hours.  I’ve never seen a rest stop with a view such as this.  Now, I need to mention that it is winter here and therefore off season in Patagonia.  This has massive appeal.  There is almost nothing else on the roads at this time.  However, it’s worth noting that there are fewer buses at this time of year and so you will need to study the bus timetable to ensure you get the most out of your visit.

Beautiful sunrise en route to El Chalten.
Photo by F. Wiltshire.

Continuing the journey onto Fitz Roy National Park, I notice the jagged peaks loom nearer.  Currently hidden in snow clouds, I am yet to see the famous tooth shaped peak that dons the cover of many an Argentinian guided book.  One of the toughest climbs in the world.  Not for its height but for sheer technicality and I can see why.  The surrounding peaks aren’t much friendlier but are just as intriguing.

Once we reach the small town of El Chalten, we are taken to the rangers outpost where rules of the park are explained and maps are handed out.  That’s it.  I was on my own.  El Chalten out of season has a vaguely eerie quality.  It’s beautiful but many buildings are empty, there are few cars on the road and even fewer people.  A snow covered school yard lies vacant and is reminiscent of a scene in a post-apocalyptic film.  I realise that I may not be making this sound all too enchanting.  However, that’s exactly what this place is.  Enchanting.  I continue my solitary walk with my not-too-detailed map and find the opening to the national park.  Looking out my eyes are drawn to a silvery iced path surrounded by mountains.  There is an incredible beauty and majesty to these mountains in winter that is absolutely breath-taking.

Hiking trail through Fitz Roy National Park.
Photo by F. Wiltshire.

I decide to take a relatively easy trek.  Just a few hours, leaving time to get the last bus to El Calafate.  However, some of my fellow travellers are here for longer and will camp in the park.  This is no easy undertaking as winter here can be brutal.  I continue my silent ascent and with every step, I’m met by a more breath taking view.  I make my way to a lake.  It’s frozen over and looks like a completely different place.  Fitz Roy stands over.  This is a well known vantage point on this trek and I do see one or two others whilst I am there.

Frozen lake in the midst of the National Park.
Photo by F. Wiltshire

The various walking routes are signed but in the winter, it’s fairly easy to lose them in the snow.  My plan to follow my footprints in the snow has been scuppered by the fact that it is now snowing again and they are being covered over.  At this point, it is also going dark – a fact worth remembering when planning a trip like this.  I decide to make my way back through the thick, snow covered woods that cover these mountains.  The silence broken only by a glacier stream or the falling of snow from the thick canopy of trees.  As with any trek, the descent often takes more concentration than the ascent and it’s worth remembering that decent walking shoes are essential.

I am saddened to leave behind the icy forest that blankets these mountains and head back into El Chalten where I find (after much searching) a coffee shop that is actually open.  I wish I could have stayed longer and envy those brave souls who plan to camp in the park tonight.

Photo by F. Wiltshire.

Welcome!

Where do I start?  I’m a freelance travel writer, adventurer and blogger currently living in London. The purpose of this blog is to share with you the adventures and experiences that I seek out.  It’s true that some of these adventures will be in far flung places but I also seek to prove that adventure can be found everywhere if you’re prepared to find it.  Life in a city, when surrounded by people can sometimes actually have the effect of disconnecting us from others.  Often getting away from the hustle and bustle of modern city life, travelling to places of remote, natural beauty can often show us the beauty of human nature in those that we meet along the way.