wildlife

Oman: order and beauty

July 21, 2022

In Charles Baudelaire’s poem L’invitation au voyage (inspired by his travels as a youth), he paints an image of both calmness and oriental splendor.

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,

Luxe, calme et volupté.

Swimming through a turquoise pool at Wadi Shab, Oman — Swimming through the turquoise waters of Wadi Shab, Oman

I was reminded of his words on a recent trip to Oman, a stunningly beautiful country filled with some of the most charming locals I’ve met on my travels. Upon landing in Muscat in the evening and heading to the rental car booths (highly recommended as an economical and easy way to get around), everyone along the way made me feel welcome, telling me about the city, its origins and its people. I also found it to be a safe country; as a solo female traveller, I was treated everywhere with kindness and respect. After checking into my hotel room, I sat on my balcony, breathing in the fresh sea breeze, enjoying the lingering sensation of saltiness and heat infused with the sweetness of the night.

The following morning, I drove to the MolaMola Diving Center to embark on a day trip to the Dimaniyat Islands, a nature reserve some 40 miles (70 km) northwest of Muscat. The dive boat was full of travellers from around the world, including some locals, and the vibe was one of lighthearted banter and chatter about off the beaten path adventure destinations. The diving was well worth the boat ride out: turtles, cuttlefish, and schools of fish darted around well preserved coral heads with relatively good visibility and a touch of current. Lunch was served on board the boat, and the rocking of the waves lulled us into a deep satiety as we returned to Muscat. I spent much of the rest of the day working, venturing out to the nearby Royal Opera House to admire the architecture and for an evening stroll along the waterfront, where families, couples, and groups of friends created a lively atmosphere.

Arches at Royal opera house, Muscat, Oman

Along the Muscat waterfront, Oman — Muscat waterfront, Oman

After a light breakfast, I drove south, arriving roughly 90 minutes later at Wadi Shab for a fun adventure combining hiking and swimming. From the parking area, a short boat ride run by locals for 1 rial per person takes you across the river to the start of a scenic hike to a series of natural pools carved over centuries by the moving water. Despite starting early in the morning with few others along the trail, I found I was baking in the heat of the sun by the time I reached the first pool after about 40 minutes. Stripping down to my bathing suit, I put my belongings in a dry bag and began swimming through a series of 3 pools until I reached a narrow crevasse with a shining turquoise pool of water on the other side. A small waterfall gushes in from yet another small pool just above, reachable by a thick rope over wet rock for those seeking more thrills. Lingering, I enjoyed turning all my senses to the sights and sounds of nature, letting any everyday worries flow away with the sound of the water amplified by the rocks around me, carved over centuries. It was a subtle reminder that this river has flowed long before you or me, and will likely continue long after we cease to exist.

Hiking in Wadi Shab, Oman — Hiking through Wadi Shab, Oman

Hiking Wadi Tiwi, Oman — Wadi Tiwi, Oman

The wadis in Oman come in all shapes and sizes; based on a recommendation from a new friend on the dive boat, I ventured further south along a winding mountain road to Wadi Tiwi. From the parking area, a series of steps lead downwards to a set of pools in a rainbow of green-blue hues. Swimming was a respite from the ever-present heat, and scrambling around a few rocks yielded a stunning view into a deep canyon where the river widened before disappearing from view around the bend. I encountered just five other people who expressed surprise that I had driven myself in a rental sedan; most visitors arrive with a local guide in a 4x4. Rest assured, you’ll fare just fine in any vehicle, but do check the road conditions in advance.

En route back to Muscat via villages forgotten in time, I stopped at the Bimmah sinkhole, which was full of visitors in the afternoon. Many were swimming in its crystal clear waters, but this may be a bit of a letdown after you’ve experienced the wadis further south. Instead, I recommend continuing onwards to Mutrah, a port town just east of Muscat, and enjoying a traditional Omani meal at Bait Al Luban. Their rendition of shuwa, a classic Omani celebration dish of marinated meat roasted in an underground firepit for hours, was fantastic, as was the shorbat adass, a lentil soup enhanced with local spices. Afterwards, get lost in the myriad of wares at the Mutrah Souq, or stroll along the Mutrah Corniche to admire the views of the fort and whitewashed buildings set against a backdrop of sharp mountainous peaks.

Walking in Mutrah souq, Oman — Mutrah souq, Oman

Muscat itself features numerous attractions, ranging from local sweets at Al Hosni to exotic fragrances at the Amouage perfume centre. With just a few days, I lacked the time to visit the Musandam Peninsula, renowned for its diving, or the picturesque villages of the Al Hajar mountains. But trying to experience all these places in one visit would be a mistake; Oman is the type of place that invites you to return, time and time again, with the feeling of always wanting more.

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,

Luxe, calme et volupté.

W hotel infinity pool, Muscat, Oman — Infinity pool overlooking the Gulf of Oman

Socotra, Yemen: untouched frontiers

June 29, 2022

I remember reading about the remote island of Socotra, Yemen, as a young girl. Known as the Galapagos of the Middle East, with nearly 40% of its plants and trees found nowhere else on the planet, Socotra seemed almost unreal. Isolated from the mainland over 6 million years ago, its endemic species resemble something out of a science fiction novel - dragon blood trees (so named for their red sap), bottle trees, and the elusive Socotran chameleon. This year, I decided to make my lifelong dream of visiting the island a reality.

Bottle tree, Socotra, Yemen — Bottle nose tree, Socotra

Visiting Socotra takes some planning: there is just one flight a week, run as a charter flight via Air Arabia out of Abu Dhabi. You cannot book the flight online; you’ll need to work with a tour operator to arrange it as well as your visa. I went with Piotr (Peter), founder of Pazola Travel, who has arranged multiple trips to the island over the years and seamlessly arranged this one. He is also one of the few operators to prominently feature scuba diving on multiple days of the trip; he is a long time instructor with over 8,000 dives under his belt. Our group of 8 met at the Abu Dhabi airport, having packed all of our scuba diving gear, sleeping bags and headlamps, and lightweight clothes for hiking and adventures in the heat. This is a trip for the adventure-minded: we typically spent the night camping or in relatively basic accommodations, and there are no frills (and very few items available for purchase) once you arrive on Socotra for the week.

Sunset over camping tents, Dihamri, Socotra, Yemen — Sunset at camp in Dihamri, Socotra

Upon arrival in Hadibo, the largest town on Socotra with a population of roughly 10,000, we were greeted by our guide, Abdularuf, and three drivers with their respective Toyota Land Cruisers, who would be with us for the week. We spent the first night at the Summerland motel, a popular and clean choice in town that even offers some basic breakfast and limited wifi. We headed out for lunch at the most popular restaurant in town, which served grilled fish, chicken, piping hot freshly made local flatbread, and an assortment of freshly squeezed juices (highly recommended).

Cooking traditional flatbread, Hadibo, Socotra, Yemen — Cooking local flatbread in Hadibo

Night street scene in Hadibo, Socotra — Hadibo at night

Hadibo itself is relatively vibrant, with plenty of locals walking around (women dressed in black in full burqas and men in traditional local colorful dress), mingling with goats and scores of trash (there is no place to discard of trash on the island, and unfortunately most of it ends up on the streets). This is also a place of extreme poverty: most things that end up on the island must be imported, and this is not cheap (or affordable for most of the population living off the land). At the aforementioned restaurant, any food not consumed by paying customers was promptly carried off to an ever-present group of hungry people who didn’t have the means to pay for a meal. At many of the small villages we passed during our time on the island, we encountered groups of children and families subsisting on the bare minimum to survive. Socotra is truly a sobering place that reminds us of just how small and insignificant we all are.

We are the lucky ones, the ones able to sit back in the Land Cruisers and explore the length of this unique and stunningly beautiful place. Our first stop was the Dihamri marine reserve, the longest coral reef on Socotra, where we set up camp for the night and completed a checkout dive with the only local scuba instructor, Walid. The reef is in near pristine condition, a testament to what our planet might be like with sustainable fishing operations. We observed reef sharks, turtles, and thick forests of richly coloured hard and soft coral gardens. I saw no discernible coral bleaching, which I’ve sadly grown used to as the norm at most dive spots around the world. This is a real underwater paradise–and what’s more, equally amazing for divers as well as snorkelers, as many sites have a maximum depth of 30 ft (10m). After our second dive, we hiked among the nearby bottle trees and gazed into the depths of the Arabian Sea as the setting sun turned everything around us a rainbow of red.

Socotra mountain lake with dragon blood tree — Homhil, Socotra

Arher beach, Socotra, Yemen — Arher beach, Socotra

The next morning, we set off further east towards the landscape-dominating sand dunes of Arher. We detoured towards Homhil in the mountains in the interior, from where we hiked with a local guide through dragon’s blood trees and curved canyons shaped by centuries of water culminating in nearby pools overlooking the plateau below us blending into the sea. We trekked down the mountain towards the beach at Arher, where we enjoyed a late afternoon swim with dolphins and a myriad of fish in crystal clear waters. After a quick rinse in the nearby river, we set up camp for the night directly on the beach, falling asleep to the crashing waves. Waking up about an hour before dawn, we hiked up the cool dunes in darkness to enjoy from the top one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve seen in my travels.

Sunrise from Arher sand dunes, Socotra, Yemen — Sunrise from Arher sand dunes, Socotra

After descending for a light breakfast by our camp, we headed to the easternmost part of Socotra, the fishing village of Irsal, from where we dove a shipwreck covered in decades of reef growth: giant clams, mussels, and bits of hard coral. Afterwards, backtracking eastwards, we completed a second dive (my favourite of the trip) at Rosh. Diving below the surface, we encountered one of the most beautiful and pristine hard coral gardens I’ve ever seen, full of life: a pair of lobsters chasing each other around coral heads, abundant schools of butterflyfish, and a rich microcosm of tiny nudibranch, shrimp, and crabs.

Irsal fishing village boats, Socotra, Yemen — Colourful fishing boats in the village of Irsal, Socotra

Children swinging from dragon's blood tree, Socotra, Yemen — Children swinging from a dragon blood tree, Socotra

Path through dragon's blood trees, Socotra, Yemen — A path through the dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

Dragon's blood trees in late afternoon light, Socotra, Yemen — Dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

We next ventured into the interior of Socotra, into the depths of Dicksam, reachable via an extremely rocky and long road full of switchbacks. We were rewarded by a sea of dragon’s blood trees stretching in every direction and some of the clearest night skies still largely untouched by human life (and light). We walked through the trees as afternoon turned to dusk turned to night, a showcase of stars complementing the ancient trees around us. The best places I’ve travelled to are the ones that remind you of your fleeting existence on this planet and the immensity and greatness of the world around us; they fill you with hope that despite our destructive tendencies, humans will find a way to live sustainably and coexist with the products of millions of years of evolution. Socotra is one of these places.

Rocky road and Land Cruisers, Dicksam, Socotra, Yemen — The road to Dicksam

Dragon's blood trees at sunset, Socotra, Yemen — Watching the sunset over dragon blood trees, Socotra

Sky full of stars over dragon blood tree, Socotra, Yemen — The endless night sky in Dicksam, Socotra

Our last two days on Socotra were spent in the far western stretches of the island, miles from other human beings on the beach of Shouab. The decades-old wreck of a large Qatari ship stretches just offshore, offering plentiful sightings of goliath groupers, schools of tang, and numerous sting rays. We spent two dives here; we could have done ten and that wouldn’t have been sufficient. The privilege of being able to dive in such a remote place was not lost on us, and we emerged from the sea feeling changed.

Shouab beach and turquoise sea, Socotra, Yemen — Pristine Shouab beach, Socotra

If you have even the inkling of a feeling to make your way to Socotra, go: this is a place lost in time, unlike any other on Earth. It doesn’t take long to fall into its rhythm, letting go of the business of the outside world, in favour of a more peaceful, simple existence. This is true paradise for those lucky enough to visit.

What to pack

Pack lightly, but bring essentials such as medications, a fully charged power bank (minimum 30000 mAh depending on the devices you are bringing), extra memory cards for your camera, etc. You’ll want to travel solely with soft-sided luggage (ideally duffel bags that can be both carried and wheeled). Leave your drone at home; there’s a high chance it will be confiscated by airport authorities in the UAE, where they are illegal.

Most operators will travel with local crew, including a guide, drivers, and chef. The food on our trip exceeded all expectations: a rotating cast of local chicken, freshly caught fish, and the ubiquitous goat, all prepared by our cook in the open air by our camp.

Goat at gas station, Socotra, Yemen — A friendly local on Socotra

If you intend on going with an operator who offers scuba diving, you’ll want to bring all of your own gear, as essentially none is available for rent on the island given there is a sole divemaster. Tanks and weights are of course available, but I recommend bringing an extra mask and ensuring your dive computer has a good working battery. Walid (the local scuba instructor) has a few other pieces of gear for rent, but given the remoteness of the island, the selection is limited and prices are steep.

Fun fact: There are three things you will see endless amounts of on Socotra: goats, pufferfish, and vultures.

Qalansiyah lagoon, Socotra, Yemen — Detwah lagoon, Socotra

The allure of islands

July 11, 2020

“We live—as we dream—alone…” - Joseph Conrad

These words of Conrad’s resonated with me when I first read them in Heart of Darkness years ago. In many ways, we live independently, never truly knowing the depths of others. For years, I’ve been drawn to remote islands when I travel, and since travel isn’t quite possible right now, I’ve taken some time to reflect on why. Islands are solitary, independent, stoic—they don’t care whether you tend to them or not; they can fend for themselves. They’re the perfect escape, and yet, they are also inescapable. The next ship or flight out may not be for a few days, and until that time, you’re committed.

One of my first trips to an island was to Ikaria, which, according to Greek mythology, is formed from the remains of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun. Ikaria is a spectacular mix of dramatic, steep mountains inhabitable only by goats and stunning beach coves where the cliffs meet the sea. Though the island briefly gained some popularity following a New York Times article describing the island’s inhabitants’ longevity (many currently live well into their 90s or later), spurring a wave of dining on Mediterranean staples, it remains a calm and simple place. In a way, things here are much as they were 50 years ago, and perhaps even further back. There is no room for posturing on an island of this size, as everyone knows each other, and gossip remains a vital form of currency. With roots in Ikaria, Mihalis Kavouriaris has been running a language school high up on the northern side of the island, by the village of Arethousa, for over 20 years. Offering a range of relatively intensive courses in Greek language and culture, the school attracts students both young and old, with one thing in common: a sense of adventure. Reaching Ikaria involves a flight into Athens, followed by a transfer to the port of Piraeus, after which you board a ferry for the six hour ride to Evdilos or Agios Kirykos, the two port towns on Ikaria. You can also fly to Ikaria, bypassing some of the journey, but that feels a bit too easy. It was, after all, Odysseus who showed us that the journey is just as important as the destination.

Once at the school, mornings and early afternoons are occupied with classes, but the sun of the midday and late afternoon are all yours. I spent many a scorching afternoon daydreaming at the small outdoor tables overlooking the Aegean (on a clear day, the island of Chios and mainland Turkey come into view), writing down my hopes and dreams for the future. For what I might become. Islands can push you to take a hard look inside yourself and reflect on what you are, and what you want to be, in a way that no other place can. Islands, after all, are focused on survival: what truly matters? What do we need to live?

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to travel to a much more remote set of four islands, the Aldabra Group in the Seychelles. Uninhabited save for a few researchers who receive supplies by ship several times a year, this group of atolls was spared destruction by humans because it has no source of fresh water. It is the only place in the world besides the Galápagos where the giant tortoise roams, and you feel very much a passing visitor to a foreign land. You can reach one of the islands, Assumption, by small plane, but you’ll need a ship to see anything else. We travelled there aboard the National Geographic Orion, setting sail from Dar es Salaam in Tanzania a few days prior. One evening, we came ashore from the ship via Zodiac and witnessed sea turtle hatchlings heading out to sea under the superbly clear southern sky. Never had I seen such a dizzying array of stars, so many that it seemed there was more light than darkness in the sky. With the warm Indian Ocean lapping at our feet, it was comforting to feel that we were the only humans around for miles, in a place inaccessible to others: that is also the magic of an island.

Much of the enchantment of islands is not immediately visible—you’ll need to go below the surface. Aldabra is a coral atoll, and with the tide, while scuba diving or snorkeling, you can drift into its inner lagoon, the current pushing you along its abundant reefs and wildlife in a crystal-clear reverie. Schools of snapper, aggregations of eagle rays, and solitary sea turtles pass by with the most imperceptible of nods. Just offshore, shivers of black-tipped reef sharks circle in the shallows, and you immediately feel a sense of wonder for these often-feared animals. These sharks have no interest in humans, preferring to explore the warm waters in search of fish and to play-fight among themselves. But they are curious: upon dipping a camera into the water, I quickly found a young shark investigating this novel intruder, nudging with its snout to test its boundaries.

Some islands have developed rich cultures that over centuries have thrived on their seclusion. The Faroe Islands, accessible by plane from Copenhagen, are a place I’ve often dreamed of during this quarantine. Due to the islands’ remoteness, the local people have developed a way of life drawing on their creativity and resourcefulness: food is often fermented to preserve its nutrients for harder times, and no piece of any animal is wasted. More remote villages have been connected via an intricate network of tunnels to ensure passage even during rough seas, resulting in a dispersed but also interdependent population. The islands’ beauty feels all the more striking due to their isolation: you recognise what a privilege it is to experience such a place, to hike for miles in the company of nature, without coming across another human being.

And yet, the beauty of islands does not necessarily lie in their remoteness. Some are inhabited so densely that you might easily forget you’re on one. Manhattan is a perfect example: you could live your entire life without leaving, and its connections to the rest of New York City are so heavily trafficked as to feel permanent. Bridges, ferries, subways, buses, bikes are constantly buzzing, and the sense of scarcity here is defined more by the distance between the haves and the have nots. Yet each time I see the Manhattan skyline after some time away, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of possibility: all humanity is here, and you can find anything you like, at any time of day or night. Authentic Colombian arepas? Just around the corner. Some of the best sushi in the world, flown in daily from Tsukiji fish market in Japan? A few blocks’ walk. A strong community of multi-generational Italians? A short subway ride. In the midst of so much activity, you feel that you are a part of something, that you belong. In the end, perhaps that’s what we live for: this sense of belonging. In many ways, islands group like-minded people, allowing us to share our feelings, plans, and dreams. They are reminders of what we really are.

What place do you dream of?

For more island reading, check out this piece by scientist Vivien Cumming.

Road trip: sands, stalagmites and snow in New Mexico

June 07, 2020

New Mexico is the stuff that road trip dreams are made of. Long stretches of lunar-like landscapes with distant peaks that always feel slightly out of reach, the kind of warm heat that you want to sink into and stay in a while. It’s a place for the adventurous, yes, but also the laid-back. Perfect for a solitary long weekend or a weeklong trip with a friend or partner.

White Sands National Park visitor center

I started my trip in Albuquerque, which in pre-covid, fairytale times was serviced by daily nonstop flights on Jetblue from JFK. While the state has started opening up, not all parks are yet open, so be sure to check status before heading out. I drove south from Albuquerque, towards White Sands National Park, passing by the interestingly named town of Truth or Consequences, which is also home to a number of natural hot springs, followed by a classic breakfast of eggs, bacon, and French toast at Sugies Diner in Las Cruces. I arrived at White Sands National Park in the early afternoon and explored as the sky slowly turned from bright blue to deeper purple and pink as the evening crept in and the sun slowly began to set. It’s a place you’ll want to linger, yes, and plan your return.

The sands get their white colour from gypsum crystals - the largest such dunefield on earth. Formed 7,000-10,000 years ago from selenite crystals that over time eroded into gypsum, White Sands National Park is today occasionally subject to closure, as it’s completely surrounded by the White Sands Missile Range. It’s certainly one of the most alien landscapes I’ve ever seen, and it’s easy to park your car at one of many stopping points in the park and quickly get lost in the dunes (be sure to bring plenty of water and know how to make your way back to your car). The deep blue outline of the San Andres range contrasts with the stark white wind patterns etched into the dunes, broken every so often by the thin lines of a determined desert plant. I experienced several dune stages: an initial liberating exploration marked by the sheer pleasure of running fresh tracks and rolling in the sand to feel its warmth; a secondary, more productive phase that entailed resurrecting childhood gymnastics moves; finally, a contemplative phase during which I sat in place, jotting down stray thoughts and having deeper conversations with friends and family in faraway places over the phone.

I would happily have lingered longer, but I’d booked a motel just outside Carlsbad for the night, and a longer drive through the Lincoln National Forest (during which it snowed!) still awaited me. I’d recommend staying in the area if you’ve got more time, but I really enjoyed arriving to Carlsbad Caverns National Park the next morning just before opening, which allowed me to be the first person to enter that day. Combined with a New York City walking speed, this meant I had a good 15-20 minutes alone in the depths of the caverns before any other visitors caught up to interrupt the slow dripping sounds echoing within the cave system. Much of the system is inaccessible to visitors, and the open part unfortunately has ropes and clearly-marked walking paths, which take away from what otherwise might feel closer to nature. It’s still very much worth a visit, especially if you can get there before the crowds.

Stalagmites and stalactites at Carlsbad Caverns National Park

Driving north towards Santa Fe, I passed by Roswell, whose claim to fame is the “UFO” crash in 1947 (the UFO in question was actually a U.S. Air Force weather balloon), and which now houses a UFO museum and research center. As I approached Vaughn, the landscape became increasingly desolate, with an occasional shuttered gas station or motel that appeared to date back to the 1950s. It’s the kind of place where time has stopped, and most people simply pass through, but as I think back on my trip, those memories of the afternoon desert sun shining on a place fallen out of favour linger.

I reached Santa Fe in the early evening, checking in to the Drury Plaza Hotel, for which I’d found an amazing rate online. It was a bit too chilly to use the rooftop pool, but I happily settled by the roaring fireplace in the lounge with a complimentary gin & tonic and light bites from the hotel’s free daily happy hour. Afterwards, I strolled through town, stumbling upon some live music, and picking up snacks and wine at La Casa Sena wine shop. I also enjoyed sampling some of Gruet’s delicious sparkling wines at their Santa Fe tasting room, and for dessert, Kakawa Chocolate house is unbeatable. Their hot chocolate elixir is some of the best I’ve ever had, and it’s impossible to leave without sampling some of their handmade chocolates.

The following day, I set out early for the 2 hour drive to Taos for a day of skiing. The conditions at the mountain can be hit or miss depending on the snowfall, but the terrain is still exciting. After a few runs, I grew tired of the quaint, slow lift chairs that are in need of an upgrade - time truly does feel like it runs more slowly.

En route back to Santa Fe, I passed through a number of picturesque towns, including Arroyo Seco, which features a few small gift shops. Should you have more time, further west lies Carson National Forest, home to more stunning landscapes, including the area around Abiquiu, from where Georgia O’Keeffe drew inspiration. As mine was a shorter trip, I had to settle for checking out some of her art at the small but excellently curated Georgia O’Keeffe museum in downtown Santa Fe. The more I travel, the more I like to give myself a reason to go back to a place I really enjoyed to which I might not otherwise pay another visit. So, New Mexico, I’ll be back!

Where to eat & drink

Sugies Diner, Las Cruces

Gruet’s tasting room, Santa Fe

Kakawa Chocolate house, Santa Fe

La Casa Sena, Santa Fe

Where to stay

Drury Plaza Hotel, Santa Fe

Paintings at the Georgia O’Keeffe museum in Santa Fe

New Zealand: the North of the North

January 27, 2020

If you’ve read my previous post about New Zealand, you’ll know I fell for the country pretty hard when I visited the North and South islands in a whirlwind two weeks. I went back last month for more, this time spending two weeks in the northern parts of the North Island, which seemed fitting for summertime. It is truly one of my favourite countries in the world: nowhere else is there such a perfect combination of diversity of landscape, little crowding, and amazing local food.

I’ve broken the below into three regional sections; feel free to skip ahead to Auckland & Waiheke, Northland or Waikato & Bay of Plenty.

Auckland & Waiheke

After landing in Auckland, I checked into my cozy Airbnb near the waterfront and strolled over to Shucker Brothers for a feast of local oysters and fish & chips. The following morning, after some light bites at the Auckland Fish Market, I took Fullers ferry over to Waiheke island, known for its vineyards and fresh seafood, for a day trip. Just 30 min each way, the ferry makes the island incredibly accessible, and it’s advisable to rent a car to visit the different vineyards. I stopped for a quick breakfast at Solar Eating House with nice views overlooking Oneroa Bay before continuing eastward towards Man O’ War vineyards, as the paved road turned to gravel and the scenery becoming increasingly wider expanses of green dotted with sheep. There’s a calm bay with a thin stretch of pebbly beach here, which in the summertime fills with boats, swimmers, and kayakers. The wines at Man O’ War are some of the best on the island, with crisp, minerally whites and peppery Syrahs.

The beach by Man O’War vineyards, Waiheke Island

More food may be in order prior to trying more wines, and fortunately Poderi Crisci, run by a Neapolitan named Antonio, is not far away. A picturesque garden setting filled with the smell of jasmine and lavender welcomes you to your table, and traditional Italian staples are on offer. Alternatively, head back towards Onetangi Bay for a delicious seafood spread at Three Seven Two, which has a fantastic indoor/outdoor layout and overlooks the wide stretch of beach. The oysters were some of the best I had in New Zealand, and the wine list is superb.

For something a bit different, check out Casita Miro, which feels like stepping into Parc Guell in Barcelona. The wines are decent, but the views make it worth a stop. For better wines, head to Tantalus and the neighbouring Stonyridge, which I followed with a quick stop at the Te Matuku Bay seafood market for another dozen local oysters. Cap off the day at Cable Bay Vineyards, with views of Auckland in the distance. For dinner, back in Auckland, I thoroughly enjoyed the lamb chop at Giraffe together with a friend who flew in to join me for the remainder of the trip.

Northland

Feeling full of oysters and lamb and wine, a rare and happy feeling, the following day we made our way north towards Matapouri, the jumping off point for the Poor Knights Islands, one of New Zealand’s best dive sites. En route, we stopped at the Kaiwaka Cheese shop to sample some local cheeses and other products: the manuka smoked cheddar and jalapeno gouda were particularly tasty. Further north, a quick hike led to the scenic Whangarei Falls, and nearby was the highlight of the day: Abbey Caves. A set of 3 caves reachable from the road via a short walk, these are particularly special because they aren’t commercialised and are filled with glowworms! To the uninitiated, glowworms are not actually worms, but rather larvae of fungus gnats (a much less glamourous term) that produce a bioluminescent blue-green glow. Some of the entrances to the caves are a bit tight, and the caves can be quite wet, so wear appropriate clothing and footwear (ideally water shoes or hiking shoes that can get wet, as well as a headlamp). Turn off your lights once well inside and enjoy the spectacle!

Our Airbnb near Matapouri was clean and well-located to the dive shop the next morning. We went with Yukon dives, and the boat was one of the nicest dive boats I have ever been on, complete with an upper outside area and a lower, fully-enclosed space full of comfortable bean bags and pillows. Beware, however, the water temperatures, which were at just 17C. These are drysuit diving waters, though the dive shop will assure you that everyone is fine in the 6.5mm wetsuits and hoods they supply. I insisted on layering an additional 3mm wetsuit on top of that, and I was still absolutely freezing within about 60 seconds of entering the water. The water was relatively choppy, though underneath the surface, the sway of the large-leafed, bright yellow and green algae was mesmerising. Large schools of fish and stingrays abounded, and multiple swimthroughs surrounded by the yellow algae truly made this a memorable divesite. In the shallows, caverns along the islands make for spectacular backlit window vistas onto the depths.

Resident emus at Raewyn & Rosco’s farmstay

Homemade Christmas dessert at Raewyn & Rosco’s farmstay

One of the most memorable Airbnbs of the trip was Raewyn & Rosco’s farmstay in Waiharara, where I was lucky enough to be over Christmas. Their dog Jess came out to greet me, nearly jumping into my car. They joked that since they didn’t have much family in the area, they had rented Americans to entertain them over the holidays. But they have many animals to make up for it: emus, cows, pigs, and ducks roam about, and the property borders a scenic creek upon which you can canoe. They cooked a fantastic Christmas dinner that we were invited to share in, and their breakfasts were the best of the trip. Raewyn & Rosco’s hospitality made me feel right at home despite being thousands of miles away from my own family.

The next day, we took an incredibly scenic road trip up to Cape Reinga, the northernmost point of New Zealand. It is where the Tasman and Pacific seas meet in a thunderous mix of greens, blues, and greys, and it’s a place of special significance to the Maori, New Zealand’s indigenous people: it is the point where the spirits of the dead enter the underworld. A stunning hiking path leads from near the lighthouse at the end of the peninsula to the completely wild Te Werahi beach. Dress in layers and wear sunscreen; conditions can change quickly.

Cape Reinga with a view to Te Werahi beach

A short drive away are the equally stunning Te Paki giant sand dunes. You’d not be remiss to think you could be somewhere in the middle east, and yet all of these incredibly varied landscapes are in just one part of one small country. Bring a board to coast down the dunes, or simply enjoy getting lost in the alien landscape.

Should you be craving a swim after the dryness of the dunes, head to nearby white sand Rarawa beach. If you’ve got a 4x4, you can actually drive onto the beach if you’d like. Kitesurfing is possible here as well if the conditions are right. We also checked out the much windier 90 mile beach (it truly does stretch as far as the eye can see in either direction) on the windward side of the peninsula, where tides can change quickly and more than a few cars have gotten stuck.

Our next stop was another farmstay Airbnb further south in Ruawai. En route, we stopped at the Mangonui fish shop for some fish & chips, followed by the Puketi Forest for a short loop hike through a large grove of the currently endangered kauri trees, a species endemic to New Zealand. These large behemoths are reminiscent of California redwoods, but are currently being killed off by an incurable pathogen that can be spread in a single pinhead of soil (typically due to human activity). Signs and spray canisters at the start of trails instruct you to wash and disinfect the soles of your shoes to help prevent spreading the disease.

The road from Puketi to Ruawai was one of the curviest and emptiest of the trip, and a true pleasure to drive along. Upon reaching Pete & Sara’s farmstay, we were met by Pete, who promptly took us on a short hike to Tokatoka peak to enjoy the vista over the surrounding plains together with his dalmatian, Bella. A former dairy farmer, Pete’s boundless energy and enthusiasm for hosting visitors from around the world was infectious. He introduced us to the alpacas, sheep and donkeys on his farm and showed us how to feed them, and after a home-cooked dinner, we wheeled out his large telescopic to look at the clear night sky largely free of noise pollution. I woke up at 6am to join him at a neighbouring dairy farm where I learned about the process and even milked a couple of cows. Northland is truly New Zealand at its best.

Waikato & Bay of Plenty

From the rolling hills of Northland, we headed east to the Coromandel peninsula, known among Kiwis for its spectacular beaches and stunning cliffside walks. The drive there along the Firth of Thames is a stunning one and worth the slight detour from the main highway road. Stripes of aqua, turquoise and deep blue merge into each other, and a stroll through Waitawa Regional Park can be a great place to stretch your legs.

New Chums beach, reachable via a short hike

Coromandel itself is a cute seaside town and a nice spot for a stroll. I picked up some local cheeses and snacks at The Coromandel Smoking Co, and Umu Cafe serves up tasty breakfasts. We unfortunately didn’t have enough time to head up to Fletcher Bay and the Coromandel Coastal Walkway, but it is supposed to be a spectacular day hike. We did do a short walk along the coastline to reach New Chums Beach, which was perhaps one of the prettiest beaches of the trip (it is frequently voted one of New Zealand’s most beautiful beaches). From there, we stopped off for a daily dose of oysters at Salt Restaurant in Whitianga and enjoyed lazing on Hahei beach as afternoon turned to twilight and the sun disappeared behind us.

The following morning, I woke up before sunrise to walk to Cathedral Cove before the crowds. It was well worth it, as there were just a few others there, and the lighting was spectacular for photography. Incredibly crowded and hence skippable, however, was Hot Water Beach. There are a number of other spots where you can enjoy the thermal heat without the crowds (more on that later). Breakfast at Flatwhite in Waihi features a great view over the ocean and delicious food, and we were lucky enough to be in town for the weekly farmer’s market, where we purchased some eggs and avocados for the coming days.

Also well worth a stop is the Leveret Estate winery, which features award-winning and reasonably priced wines as well as very kind and patient salespeople. From there, we checked into our Airbnb in Tauranga (with a hot tub!), where we were welcomed by the very kind Pete and Karen and nice views over the surrounding area. We headed to Waimarino Adventure Park for an evening kayaking trip to McLaren Falls Park, complete with more glowworms. We set out in small groups of kayakers as the last rays of the day illuminated the lake and its numerous black swans and headed upstream to a few channels where glowworms illuminate the surrounding rocks. It was truly a magical evening.

The following morning, I set out early to complete the Tarawera Trail, a 15k one-way hike along Lake Tarawera to Hot Water Beach, which, as the name implies, is a thermally heated beach on the lake where you can dig your own hot water pools or simply swim in heated areas of the lake by the shore. You book a water taxi to take you back from here to where you parked your car. The hike will take you through lakeside bushland and varied tree groves, featuring a number of intermittent climbs. The swim at the end of the hike is a relaxing reward, though be sure to book your water taxi in advance, as it runs only if it’s been booked.

The following morning was New Year’s Eve, and in an effort to show off some dewy skin, we booked a mudbath and sulphur bath at the aptly named Hell’s Gate. A walk through the area takes you through various bubbling pools and beautiful colours from the bacteria that survive in this extreme temperatures before you settle into the mudbath. An attendant will explain the best way to apply the mud, and after 20 minutes, you are whisked off to the sulphur pools (bring an old bathing suit, as you will likely never be able to wash out the smell) to allow your skin to further soften.

Afterwards, I hiked through the nearby Waimangu Volcanic Valley, which features numerous spectacularly coloured pools and streams due to the underlying thermal activity in the area. In the evening, we enjoyed the small fireworks show over Lake Taupo and lingered on the beach, parts of which are also thermally heated. It was a fitting end to a spectacular decade.

Mine Bay Maori rock carvings, Lake Taupo

I started off the New Year the following morning with a 5k kayak (each way) from Acacia Bay (hire your own kayak or join a tour) to the Maori rock carvings at Mine Bay. Kayaking will take about 75 minutes each way, so it’s not a bad idea to bring along a friend to make it a bit easier on the arms. The rock carvings are quite large and intricate, and the views of snow-capped Mt Tongariro, Mt Ruapehu and Mt Ngauruhoe in the distance over Lake Taupo make the trip even more spectacular.

Emerald Lakes, Tongariro Alpine Crossing

Of course, one of the most popular activities in the area is the 20k Tongariro Alpine Crossing hike. Last time I visited New Zealand, strong winds prevented me from doing the hike, but this time the weather was on my side. I booked a one-way shuttle from the Ketetahi car park to the start of the trail with Tongariro Expeditions and found myself starting the hike just after 6am as the golden orb of the sun rose into a hazy morning. The landscape varies from light brush and volcanic rock to something best described as lunar to thick forest, and temperatures vary accordingly; I was grateful for my gloves and windproof jacket at the start of the hike, but I’d shed most of my layers about halfway through. The climax, with the aptly named and spectacularly hued Red Crater coming into view, occurs about halfway through the hike. Soon after, the three bright Emerald lakes steal the show, followed by a steep scramble that leads into the seemingly never-ending descent.

Mountain biking is also on offer in the area, and we checked out some of the trails that form the Craters of the Moon geothermal area as well as past Huka Falls and up the Waikato River. You can rent bikes from FourB, and take a dip in the Warm Water Lake area of Lake Taupo for a soothing reward afterwards. I very much enjoyed the seafood at the Edgewater Restaurant with views overlooking the sunset on the lake in the evening, and the lamb and scallop risotto at Vine Eatery were one of my favourite meals of the trip.

Abseiling into the Lost World cave, Waitomo

On our last day in New Zealand, we did the Lost World tour with Waitomo Adventures, during which you abseil about 100 metres down into a wet cave system and something that truly does look like a long-forgotten world. I was happy to have selected the 4-hour rather than the full day tour: half a day gives a nice highlight of the experience and does not require wearing a wetsuit and getting completely wet. There are glowworms here, too, and the cave features beautiful vistas looking back through the natural window at the entrance. Keep in mind that what goes down into a cave must come up, and there’s a ladder with over 100 rungs that you’ll have to climb at the end to get out.

Afterwards, we enjoyed cups of locally grown tea and some light snacks at the Zealong Tea Estate en route back to Auckland, where we feasted on cloudy bay clams in a coriander sauce along with fresh oysters at Depot, and lingered over creative cocktail creations at John & May’s. We had a great night’s sleep at our Airbnb in Auckland, which featured amazing views of the city, a hot tub, and yes, a trampoline. The following day, the sky had turned an unearthly yellow hue due to the Australian wildfires. It was a stark reminder that despite being endowed with all the beauty in the world, New Zealand is still affected by human (in)action, and what we do directly affects the world around us.