
Stories from our crew of incurable wanderers — solo escapes, group misadventures and slow-travel epics from every corner of the map. Each one built around real tours you can go and book yourself.

A slow-travel journey through Colombia's hidden neighbourhoods, high-altitude fincas, and the locals who make the place tick—not the postcard version.

Australia transforms after dark. Here's where to find the adventure, the creatures, and the honest conversations that only happen when the sun goes down.

I chased the hippy trail through Myanmar's ancient kingdoms and tea plantations, sleeping on riverboats and in hilltribe homestays, eating my way through markets and up mountains.

Overland Ecuador on your own terms: cloud forests, whitewater, Quito's heights and the messy joy of slow travel through the Americas.

Skip the Panama City tourist gauntlet. A slow-travel loop through valleys, farms and jungle reveals the country's real rhythm—and its best meals.

Paragliding Rio de Janeiro, hiking favelas, and chasing adrenaline across Brazil's most electric cities. A travel adventure.

Solo travel in the Philippines isn't always Instagram. Here's what happens when you chase street food, history, and your own limits across islands.

After dark in Malaysia means skyscrapers, street food at 2am, and a city that finally stops pretending. Here's what I found when I stayed up.

The hippy trail hit Dubai differently. I retraced it through souks, salt flats, and midnight conversations with travellers who refused the glitter.

Cappadocia adventure: hot air balloons, cave churches, Ottoman ruins, and the unhinged travel moments that make Turkey unforgettable.

Solo travel in Nicaragua: sandboarding volcanic peaks, trekking remote islands, and discovering why this country breaks people open.

Seoul after dark isn't about nightclubs. It's about hanok kitchens, market vendors, and the kind of history that tastes like kimchi and regret.

Overland Hungary means skipping the tourist script entirely. I found ruin bars, firing rifles, and a chimney cake workshop that felt like a family secret.

Slow travel through central Spain: overland from Madrid's boozy nights to Segovia's fortress, then down the coast for kayaks and sea caves.

I ditched the temple alarm clock in Cambodia and found something stranger: a Siem Reap that only reveals itself after dark, solo and slightly sleepless.

Solo travel in Mexico: five days, five tours and zero itinerary, from a balloon over Teotihuacán to Cozumel, Chichén Itzá and a hidden Baja waterfall.

Skip Angkor's dawn crush. After-dark Cambodia reveals street food, boxing rings, and stories the guidebooks miss.

A solo week in Costa Rica: night-walk frogs in La Fortuna, tubing a turquoise river, cooking with locals, and learning to surf while scared of water.

Chase Chile's wildest adventures: kayak pristine rivers, explore Easter Island's mysteries, and photograph Atacama stars under Andean guidance.

Solo travel in Mexico isn't about the itinerary. It's the wrong turns, the strangers who become mates, and the moments that quietly reshape you.

Rewinding the hippy trail through Portugal: from Lisbon's broken-down neighbourhoods to Madeira's wild forests, chasing the real stuff.

Five friends. Five Argentine adventures. From asado gardens to Patagonian 4x4 chaos, here's what happens when you stop touring solo.

Follow the faded hippy trail through Thailand: market chaos, cooking with Akha elders, limestone caves and the real cost of paradise.

Solo in Bangkok after dark: street food, longtail boats, and the unscripted nights that make Thailand unforgettable. A candid after-dark adventure.

Solo travel in Guatemala means ditching the map. Five unforgettable tours turned my trip upside down—and I'm still recovering.

Solo travel in Mexico doesn't require a plan. I chased cenotes, hot air balloons, and private ruins, learning that the best adventures happen when you're properly lost.

Backpacking through China without a fixed route taught me that the real hippy trail isn't built—it's stumbled upon, one shared meal at a time.

Five solo travellers met in Yangon and decided to explore Myanmar together. What followed was chaos, street food, temples, and unexpected friendships.

Solo through Guatemala: haggling in Antigua's market, two days among Tikal's jungle temples, and a capital city bike ride that changed my mind about it.

Overland through Colombia: hiking remote forests, eating street food with locals, and discovering why slow travel beats the tourist circuit every time.

After dark in Peru's Sacred Valley: horseback rituals, textile witchcraft, and the night the Incas never left.

Ditch the tour bus. Trade Instagram for real connection on Italy's hippy trail, cooking pasta by hand and riding Vespas through the messy, gorgeous south.

The hippy trail lives on in Sri Lanka—if you know where to look beyond the temples and tea estates.

Everest Base Camp in five hours, then down to earth with local women teaching Nepali cooking. Nepal's adrenaline and soul in one dizzying week.

Overland through Egypt on foot and by felucca: temples without crowds, street food with families, and why the desert teaches patience.

A group adventure across South Africa's Cape: mountain scrambles, penguins, wine, safari, and the friendships that form when plans fall apart.

Five misfits. Zero planning. One week that proved Turkey rewards the curious and punishes the timid.

I came to Taiwan for the food. I stayed for the vertigo, the near-collisions with scooters, and one very honest dumpling master.

I landed in Brazil with a notebook, zero itinerary, and a vague memory of someone mentioning stars. What followed was exactly the kind of beautiful mess I needed.

I came to Croatia hunting the spirit of the old hippie trail. What I found was better: locals who still believe in chaos, boats that actually go where you point them, and bars where the owner's mum lives upstairs.

I came to Sri Lanka looking for enlightenment. I found it in a jeep, a kitchen, and a very opinionated tea merchant.

I went to Greece hunting for the ghost of the old hippy trail. What I found was better: bad wine, limestone cliffs, and locals who still remember.

One woman, zero plan, and five tours that reminded me why New Zealand still owns my heart.

Nicaragua doesn't ask permission. It just happens to you—volcanoes, markets, islands, and pure unfiltered weirdness.

I went to Jordan expecting postcards. Instead, I found myself underwater in a shipwreck, lost in a Bedouin canyon at dusk, and very much questioning my life choices.

Overland through Chile: kayaking turquoise lakes, soaking in forest gong baths, summiting active volcanoes, and discovering that slow travel isn't boring—it's church.

We arrived in Amman with loose plans and looser luggage. We left Jordan fundamentally altered, smelling of desert sand and regret.

I crossed the DMZ with a North Korean refugee, learned to cook bibimbap at dawn, and nearly threw up on a cliff train—all in five days.

A reformed accountant gets properly lost in India's Golden Triangle, discovers that slow travel isn't about the monuments—it's about the people you meet along the way.

A food writer stumbles into China's most visceral landscapes and discovers that adrenaline tastes better when you've earned it.

I went to Hanoi for three days. I stayed for five. Here's what changed my mind.

From penguin-spotting on Phillip Island to midnight wine runs through the Yarra Valley, I chased Australia's nocturnal magic and found myself transformed.

I went to Cape Town for solitude. I left with a WhatsApp group and new definition of 'commitment issues'.

I went to Uganda expecting adventure. I wasn't prepared for how much it would sting.

I ditched the Game of Thrones tours and found Croatia's real soul: in a guide's stories, a private boat, and some gloriously reckless off-road riding.

Volcanic cliffs, climbing rope burns, and old men who've seen everything. How I accidentally lived the hippy dream.

We arrived in Panama with loose plans and looser luggage. We left muddy, sunburnt, and already planning our return.

I came to Uganda for the gorillas. I left with river water in my lungs, jerk chicken oil under my fingernails, and a profound respect for whitewater.

I went to Nepal to find enlightenment. I found a kitchen instead—and it changed everything.

After dark in Cusco, the lines blur between archaeology and the occult. Here's what happens when you actually listen.