I can’t remember how we had heard of the 10 day trek: Tour du Mt Blanc (TMB), but I do remember the first time I visited the French Alps in the summer, thinking to myself I need to come back. In the French summer, the Alps come alive with flowers, the glaciers melt into delicious and cold water streams, the weather is warm in the day, cold at night and at times extremely unpredictable. In the distance, the sound of cow bells, marmots, ibex and birds fill the freshest air you ever breathed. This place is magic.

The TMB traverses around the base of Mt Blanc, winding through France, Italy and Switzerland and each day is filled with a variety of elevation (approx. 1000m) and decline (approx. 1000m) through mountain tops, pine forests, open prairies and moss forests. Approximately every 3 days, along the 10-day walk, you arrive at a big town; France: Chamonix, Italy: Courmayeur (known for hot springs) and Switzerland: Champex. These make great breaks or a spot to top of supplies. The hike can be made easier by staying cabins (refuges) along the way and for 50 euro a night you can share a dorm style room, in a bed, with 3 course dinner and standard breakfast (bread and coffee) and even a hot shower. This can ultimately turn into a food and wine tour as you trek through France, Italy and Switzerland. We opted to carry a tent, save some money and avoid the snorers. That said, we ended up in 2 refuges, and the food was amazing. The fact that the TMB is a 5-10-day circuit is great for transport options as you can find a number of spots to leave your car to come back to. We left ours at Les Houches near the Bellevue Telipherique.

We set out to do the hike in 9 days, by skipping one day in Switzerland by bus, which worked out well as this section was not as interesting and the town was quite expensive to camp at. Our first 5 days were perfect in terms of weather and surroundings. High climbs, epic peaks, a couple of side trips to summits and great campsites (a mixture of paid campsites, wild camping and one night in both Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme and Refuge de Bonatti). Whilst wild camping is not permitted at high altitudes, there are places along the track, some paid sites near refuges, holidays parks in towns, public camping parks, though some refuges will deny you dinner and breakfast if you are not staying in their cabins.

The walk itself is amazing. Fairly easy to follow tracks, plenty of painted and metal signs along the way. We carried a bit of food but every few days could stock up on delicious cheese, fresh bread, fruit, sweets, and occasionally, wine. Some days were long and hard, with big elevation and decline, but all worth it for the views of mountain tops and the valleys in which we found shelter each night. We were smashed by a couple of storms over the last two nights, while some of the more serious hikers were catching buses off the mountain from Tre-le-Champ out to Chamonix. We, however, persisted but got hit by the scariest storm we have been in, which along with a slightly leaky tent we survived (others in fancy lightweight tents spent the night under water). We kept walking and upon to decent into Chamonix decided to get the bus and skip the next day’s walk. Just as we hopped onto the bus, a massive storm hit and instead of another rough night, we scored cheap accommodation in town, spa, sauna and indoor pool, and ate a nice, hearty, French mountain meal.

There are multiple side trips, a few lakes for a cold swim, a few glacier crossings and plenty of steep climbs. To finish the hike there is a cable car you can pay for that takes you over Mt Blanc and its glaciers. TMB is a great all-round hike, with some incredible spots that make you feel like you are in the middle of nowhere, however you are often only a day or two hike from a restaurant with accommodation. 

Map here

By Morgan Teillet-Meunier

2018

A breathtaking and seriously windy drive over the Julier Pass brings us to Engadin, a region nestled in between peaks and glaciers, accessible only by mountain passes and tunnels. In winter, wealthy Russians come to show off in overrated St Moritz but in early autumn the only people here are the ones in daggy hiking gear, looking up at the mountains with big grins on their faces.

Our goal on a bright, cloudless September day was an overnight stay at the Tschierva Hut, one of the 169 huts owned by the Swiss Alpine Club and dotted around the country. We left our car at the Pontresina train station and set off following the path of the Ova da Roseg.

The first hour is spent under the trees, listening to the river thunder off to our right, only occasionally catching glimpses of water so ridiculously blue it doesn’t seem real. The way is flat and easy and runs parallel to a gravel road where we catch sporadic views of the horse-drawn carriage running to Hotel Restaurant Roseg Gletscher. It’s close enough to hear but far enough to ignore.

All of a sudden the trees break and we’re facing the wide expanse of the valley with the mountains in the distance. The path curves off to the left as it starts to climb above the treeline.

To our right, the base of Piz Corvatsch; in front, the Roseg Gletscher; to our left, the rocky face of Piz Tschierva as we start to go up. The path is well marked and wide so we let ourselves drink in the view, which looks like the Microsoft screensaver image of the mountains. It’s unreal

how idyllic and calm it is, especially as we’ve managed to pick a day when no one else is around.

The path becomes rocky and steeper but not too difficult. Unluckily, my faithful boots decided to rub against my feet so the climb was utter agony as I pictured the blisters I knew were forming.

We climbed for two more hours before we could see the hut. By now we were scrambling over rocks, looking down over the valley. The main path takes you to the hut faster but there is a smaller, narrower trail that leads you along the edge of the cliff, uncomfortably close to a very steep and rocky drop onto the valley.

Another thirty minutes and we reached the hut at 2,583 meters, 8km from Pontresina. A warm shower and a hearty four course meal awaited so it wasn’t exactly roughing it. We had just enough time for a beer before dinner was served family-style. We met a guy from Valois who was spending a week climbing up and down from all the peaks in the Bernina range. His goal was to reach over 3,000 meters everyday and he kindly sacrificed some heavy duty plasters for

my blisters, which were now occupying the entire surface area of the backs of both of my feet. Dinner finished just in time to watch the sun to go down behind Piz Corvatsch in the distance.

The hut’s resident German Shepherd kept us company as we drank a well-earned beer and rested in the cool mountain air. I knew my blisters would hate me the next day but in that moment, the serenity was enough.

Bolder and better hikers than us woke up at 4am to keep climbing up but a leisurely muesli for breakfast and a hobble back down was enough for me, my knees and my blisters. I nursed my wounds with a a schnitzel at the the restaurant at the bottom before leaving the tranquil valley. Overall, not the most intense of hikes but the views and experience at the top make it well worth it.

Andreea Nemes

2018

Map here

Known locally as “the King”, this rugged hike through Spain’s Sierra Nevada tracks up over dramatic limestone and dolomite formations to a steep peak, offering ridiculous views across the surrounding ridges of the National Park and a healthy population of Iberian ibex pals to show you how it’s done.

The walk commences at a traditional country restaurant at the edge of the National Park called Fuente del Hervidero. There are no buses to the restaurant from either the nearby villages of Alpujarras or Granada during the week and few on weekends, so we used our traveller’s Spanish to hitchhike back to town from the base.

The first couple of hours follow a consistent incline, taking in views of the lower lying Los Arenales as you trail along the ridgeline of Trevenque to its peak at 2083m above sea level. Part of the pleasure of this hike is in its dramatic and exposed three-dimensionality due to the low lying shrubbery at altitude. Rather than your eye being drawn to your immediate foot or hand-hold, as in many hikes, the absence of thick vegetation enables unimpeded views over the national park’s spectacular peaks, sheer gorges and deep valleys throughout the first half of the walk. 

After some scrambling to the top and a selfie with the wild Iberian goats manning the peak, the trail descends steeply down a loose, gravelly quartzite and limestone face. A pole is recommended for this section, as it is extremely slippery and too easy to end up sliding down in a dust orb. At the base, the trail turns into the leafy River Dilar Valley, offering shade, some water from a spring, fruit and fig trees, some cows and the Sierra Nevada blue butterfly if you are feeling lucky.

The trail takes around 6 hours (assuming you stop for lunch) and has no shade and no water during the first half of the walk so supplies are essential. It covers 16ks and ascends almost 1k vertically, so a good level of fitness is required, and is best done in early autumn or late spring – these arid peaks are snow capped in winter. We barely saw another human during the entire trail, and (after a late start) emerged triumphant from the valley at dusk. 

By Marnie Morieson

Oct 2017

www.marniemorieson.com

Map here.

Nordmarka, a densely wooded forest, is within easy reach of Oslo’s northern edge; made even more accessible by the savvy Scandi’s town planning with the metro dropping you at numerous trailheads. While it’s without the fjords and fjells of the west coast walks that so often epitomise ones notions of the Norwegian landscape, Nordmarka is a vast playground of wilderness (some 430 sq. kms), that most cities only dream of having such close proximity to.

The plan to hike and camp at Bjørnsjøen (Bear Ocean), was conceived like most memorable walks, entirely at the last minute, with gear begged, borrowed and even constructed. Setting off from Voksenkollen station into an unseasonable 23 degree autumn day, the sun beat heavily on our backs and the urge to take a dip into one of Nordmarkas many lakes was only curtailed by the oncoming sunset. Our route was a relatively gentle 13kms, on forest road, single track and the odd bit of ski trail. The trails are coded as either blue (summer) or red (winter) and it’s advisable to take the blue option where possible, thus avoiding an awkward tramp through a swamp that come winter would be frozen and therefore skiable, this was learnt the hard way…

The scent of Birch, Pine and Spruce trees, quickly yellowing in the deepening Autumn, lingered sweetly as we made our way along tracks, that come December will be crawling with skiers. There was also an abundance of fresh blueberries that while a little sour, certainly beat the punnet prices found 15kms away. Around halfway to Bjørnsjøen, the conversation turned to Norwegian fauna; specifically bears and the increasing wolf populations. Although potential sightings were quickly dismissed due to our proximity to the city, it wasn’t long before tracks and fresh shit were spotted, keeping the thought of an encounter alive for a while.

Nordmarka offers an enviable smorgasbord of possible routes. They are all signposted and many can be tackled in an afternoon, except for the more serious treks like the 12-day Oslo to Bergen hike. The ability to camp freely on public land is a real treat, especially in a country renowned for its hefty prices.

Reaching Bjørnsjøen we found a spot, ditched the packs (and our dacks) and jumped into the cool dark water, which quickly stung as it found its way into our leg cuts and scratches. The sun lingered long enough above the tree line to pitch the tent, brew a coffee and sit back watching fish jumping into the night air, in search of insects or some such, invisible to us. Our home cooked, pack defrosted, chickpea curry offered the perfect end to a spectacular day.  
The next day, fog provided a stark contrast to the previous nights summery feel and added a further dimension to the hike. Norwegians are said to be born with skis on their feet, but the summer months reveal a country that offers incredible hiking potential, much of it within easy reach.

by Keith Parsons and Gunvor Eline Eng Jakobsen

2016

gunvorejakobsen.com

The Walker’s Haute route is a high-level trail that begins in Chamonix, France and finishes in Zermatt, Switzerland. It doesn’t require mountaineering equipment orexpertise, but with 7000m of elevation gain over 120km, it’s a daunting route. We set out in July, unsure whether we would actually complete the whole distance.

Originally conceived as a cross-country skiing route, the summer months transform the Haute Route into a demanding, but spectacular two week walk. The trail snakes around some of the highest and most imposing peaks of the Alps, but remains just below 3000m. The terrain ranges from gentle farming road, to alpine meadows, boulder fields and sometimes sketchy scree slopes. There are river crossings, glacier crossings, and sections with just steel ladders bolted to the rock, but trails are well sign posted and there are plenty of places to stop for a beer.

After waiting out some ugly weather in Chamonix, the first five days treated us to blue skies and cool nights. Climbing alongside the Glacier du Trient to the Fenetre d’Arpette was both a highlight, and a taste of the challenges to come. Days later, after a long ascent to the the ski resort of Verbier, a spanner was thrown in the works. The mountain refuge informed us that a lingering ice cornice made the following days walk too dangerous to pass without crampons. Reluctantly we shared an expensive taxi with some other walkers and skipped to the next valley.

From there the walk fell into a satisfying routine as we slowly ticked off the 14 passes that punctuate the route, passing from high cols to valley floors. We camped where it was sensible and otherwise made good use of mountain refuges dotted through the alps. The Swiss aren’t super keen on wild camping, but there are plenty of quiet spots where you won’t be bothered and fresh water is everywhere.

The final stretch down the Mattertal to Zermatt was the most spectacular and hair raising of the whole route. With good weather on the horizon, we chose the “Europaweg” over the gentle valley floor, a decision we questioned at times. The trail climbs straight up to 2200m and spends the next 31km traversing an extremely exposed section of boulder fields and cliff faces, with a minimalist approach to safety infrastructure. We witnessed three major rockfalls along the way, providing ample motivation to reach the safety of the picturesque Europahütte. A cold beer calmed our nerves substantially.

Unfortunately rockfall damage to a major bridge had cut off the route through to the second stage of the Europaweg. We reluctantly descended to the valley floor and enjoyed a relaxed walk up to Zermatt. As the Matterhorn finally came into view we felt elated, exhausted, and a little bit sad to see the end of an epic trail.

By Ben Christensen

2016
benchristensen.co

The Lofoten archipelago lies in Norway’s far northern county of Nordland, far enough inside the Arctic Circle to experience "proper" winter conditions. The name “Lófót” supposedly stems from old Norse for Lynx’s foot, a clear nod to the shape of the islands which jut out from the mainland.

Visitors have been flocking to Lofoten, charmed no doubt by the endless barrage of Instagram posts of people standing atop granite cliffs rising 800m+ straight from the Norwegian Sea below, with over a million expected this year alone. The locals have had their fill with campers setting up in graveyards and next to town water supplies, in search of what little flat ground is available beside the only main road. Norway’s allemannsrett - "everyman’s right" - which allows free camping on public land is a big drawcard but is best used away from towns. When we visited, the biggest elephant in the room was the heated debate surrounding potential oil drilling in the archipelago, a hot topic in Norway’s recent election.
 
We headed north in July, Lofoten’s warmest and lightest month, to attempt a three-day walk along Lofoten’s northern coast, from Fredvang to Reine. Access to the islands is either from a ferry from Bodø, or a flight into one of Lofoten’s three airports, Leknes, Svolvær or Harstad/Narvik and while it is possible to get around just hitching or with the infrequent buses, a car (even for part of your trip) is a big advantage. We flew into Harstad/Narvik from Oslo and camped in Svolvær, Heningsvær and Utakleiv Beach, before getting to the most frequented southerly part of the islands.

Despite being summer, we were pre-soaked with 2-days straight of rain before setting out from the Fredvang bridge into what we thought was a clearing mist, only to descend onto the first night's camp spot at Kvalvika to cloud down to 200m. In search of a rumoured hut on Vestervika beach, we pushed on around a sketchy cliff between the two beaches, with chains and old washed up fisherman’s ropes to guide us along. Upon reaching the hut, we found it locked (despite rumours suggesting it was open…) and had to huddle under a house-sized granite boulder to dry off. Despite the weather, the scenery was stunning, with the occasional glance up at Ryten, a 542m peak, between the clouds.

We called time on the hike after walking back out to the next road section in freezing conditions, completely soaked through our “waterproofs”, only to turn for the nearest campground at Moskenes (some 35kms away by road) when a cheery local picked us up. Followed by an even cheerier Norwegian, who opted to change his plans to take us the whole 35kms to the only campground with a laundry and dryer. The forecast looked good for two days time and we decide to make a reverse trip on our planned hike, going into Horseid Beach from Reine, making the most of the 24-hour sunlight.

A short but spectacular ferry ride on Kirkefjord from Reine, followed by a steep climb over a saddle dropped us into Horseid Beach, a beautiful white sand beach with crystal clear water and grassy camping spots on a headland. From here we watched the midnight sun do its thing (the sun touches the horizon, without setting, and then begins to rise again) and explored the many nooks on the north facing cliffs.

Although, not the full three-day trip, we managed to hike the bookends amid some foul weather, which more than made our trip worthwhile. We followed this up with an overnighter from Moskenes to Munkebu; a 12km round trip to a mountain hut with cliff top camping, wild alpine winds, but spectacular views. We then finished our round trip, heading by ferry to Bodø and flying on to Oslo.

The islands and their formidable weather are not to be taken lightly but with planning and some luck, it's possible to put together stunning multi-day or even just day hikes all over the islands and hardly see a soul. "Allemannsrett" and sticking to the few supermarkets can also make Norway, and the Lofoten islands an affordable trip!

The Norwegian Trekking Association has a great free map app for planning - https://goo.gl/7J59ZQ

By Keith Parsons and Gunvor Eline Eng Jakobsen

2016

gunvorejakobsen.com

This day hike to the summit of Muntanya del Garbí was a welcome stop on my recent vanning adventure from Lisbon to Barcelona.  Muntanya del Garbí is a 600m peak in the Serra Calderona mountain range, which stretches 49km across the Valencia region of Southern spain. Practically speaking, you’ll need a car to reach this area and the trailheads are in the small towns of Estivella and Segart.
 
The red rock formations in this area were a highlight, as was the view of the green mountain ranges from the top.  The rocks reminded me of the rounded, red shapes in Arnhem land, Australia, and were so photogenic. I loved the alpine growth and wild flowers scattered along the ridge at the top of El Garbi too.
There were some chained sections on the way up that called for long limbs, some basic rock climbing skills and a bit of grit. You can return down the mountain using the same path, however we chose to take an easier trail (toward the east) which returned us to the back streets of Segart.

It was hard to find online information about trekking in this part of the world, mostly because what exists is in Spanish. I recommend the Serra Calderona National Park website, which has some maps showing the trailheads. Finding the trailhead was the trickiest part of the walk, apart from that, the track was well marked with red and white paint blazers and some decent sign posts at various junctions near the summit.

Length: 10km

Location

Trail Map

By Rachelle Jones

June 2016

During June & July of this year I headed off on a 3-week jaunt across Europe, splitting up my time between Switzerland, France and Italy. I’ve never seen so many cheese wheels, Birkenstocks and bottles of sparkling water in my life.

Clean as the Swiss streets may be and as hairy-chested as the Italian waiters were, the highlight of my trip came from France. Here I stayed a few nights in Saint Gervais, a lovely little homely town that looked out to the Alps from just about every café table. It was in this part of France that I took a day trip to the world’s eleventh highest mountain; Mont Blanc (meaning, ‘White Mountain’).

Located on the very edge of the tourist hot-spot town Chamonix, Mont Blanc stands at exactly 15,782ft tall (give or take a few feet depending on the days snow dump). Unless you’re fine with climbing up a 4,000-metre incline in waist deep snow or you’re Sylvester Stallone from Cliffhanger, you’re going to want to take the cable car.  Heading up and back on that wonderful sky-car will set you back €86,50 for an adult and €73,50 for your younger ones. If you’re feeling like actually earning that ‘Dad of the year’ mug you got for Fathers Day, you can take the whole family for €259,50. Yeah, it’s not super cheap but I would have been kicking myself if I hadn’t gotten to the top for the view.

Despite being snow covered all year round, I was able to head to top and be comfortable in just a tee shirt, jeans and a beanie. There are various lookout points which, after looking at them all, will have given you a 360 degree view, but just not all at once. The snow-capped jagged edges that litter your surroundings are truly stunning and are complimented by the litany of hikers along their sides, looking like colourful toy soldiers.

There is a great little exhibition in the middle of it all, showcasing all of the hiking, paragliding and skiing that takes place on and around the mountain. It’s part Go-Pro commercial and part personal-fitness demoraliser, but it’s nothing short of impressive. Naturally, there is a gift shop on the way back to the cable car. I mean you can’t spend all that money to get to the top of Mont Blanc and not be tempted to buy a key ring in the shape of a snowflake, right?

On the way down I made sure to stop off at the cable car midpoint to grab a Mars bar and admire the view from a modest little café on the side of the eleventh highest mountain in the world. Hands down the coolest snack spot I’ve been to. I implore you to get there one day. You can’t replicate the feeling in your lungs of that pure, high altitude air or be satisfied enough by my images to not take yourself and your definitely ever-grateful family* all the way up. If I ever get back to France I’ll surely head back to Mont Blanc, if only to buy that very ok and absolutely overpriced key ring.

*Ever-grateful family not guaranteed, depending on your privilege effects may ware off immediately.

by Jordan Rogers Smith

2016

In the north of Portugal, Peneda-Gerês National Park lies between northeast Minho and Trás-Os-Montes regions. This protected area is known by its beautiful sights, diversified wildlife and flora and great value of its ethnographic traditions.
 
When we arrive the clock ticks 7pm and the sun starts leading its way to the yellow moon. We set up a tent, prepare a light meal and go to rest since a lot of adventures waits for us in the following day.
Early in the morning we awake surrounded by chirping birds, we prepared our backpacks and start wandering through a free trail, which at the end would sum about 14km. The walk is punctuated by several pauses to observe and draw on what is around us. The most important thing is to be here and soak up the landscape.
 
The dam in the river is full of water due to this year’s generous spring rainfall and so the riverbanks are much higher than we were anticipating. We kept forward and through pine trees and shrubs of gorse we went peeking into the river. Rapidly we decided to go to the north bank, in the foot of Sierra Amarela mountain range, trying to see the ruins of a mythical village that went underwater by 1971 due to the dam but returns to the surface every time the water level drops.

On the next day, we pack everything on our backs and walk through a portion of the Roman Hose, in a 12km hike. This time we follow the Albergaria woods, a true enchanted forest where centenary oaks prevail. Human presence is controlled so that disturbances on the ecosystem balance are minimized. The cascades flow abundantly and we can’t resist refreshing ourselves. 
 
Being with nature allows us to relax and pause from life in the city. Time is only measured by sunlight, rather than by the clock. Drawing enables us to look and try to reproduce what nature has once drawn. Sound recording lets us stop and listen, understanding silence and detecting from where the sounds arise. Despite tiredness, we always come back full of energy, creativity and an eager to return once more, since the world by foot is a much larger place with so much more to discover!

by Cláudia Salgueiro & Vítor Guerreiro

2016

vestigios-echoingtrees.tumblr.com

Mix the two halves of the word around and “Montserrat” reads a bit like “serrated mountain”. Which, not coincidentally, is also what the word means in Spanish. A pilgrimage spot for many religious Catalonians, the mountain houses an abbey as well as many other significant religious monuments. It was also used as a refuge for artists, scholars and anti-Franco politicians for years during the Civil War. And it’s only a one-hour train ride or 40-minute drive from central Barcelona, so you’d be nuts not to put down your “vermut con sifon” and your “tapas” and hit the road.

Despite religion and politics, Montserrat has become a destination for the weekend walkers, exercise nuts and extreme, wall-scrambling mountain climbers. You might even see one of them flash their arse at you as you pass by on the funicular mountain train.

You can walk up to the top from the very base of the mountain, or, as we did, from the monastery. Choose your day wisely, because if you pick a foggy day expect to spend the first part (or the whole part) of your journey disappointed. Luckily for us, only the morning of our trek was disrupted by fog.

While the fog was a bummer for some, it made for some spectacular scenery as we climbed higher and higher. It’s kind of eerie hearing the bells ringing from the monastery through the fog.

When the fog cleared, we began to spot the climbers scaling vertical granite walls. We were alerted to their presence by their excited yelling in Catalonian, or shrieks warning hikers below of a possible avalanche of boulders. If you do hear loud shouts from above, you may want to duck for cover: it could be a warning that dislodged stones are headed for you.

There’s a multitude of trails that weave all around and up the foothills of Montserrat, not that you would know it (we found no maps anywhere explaining the walking trails). You pass derelict former dwellings that isolated monks and nuns lived in many hundreds of years ago, and chapels that look straight out of a spaghetti western. There is one particular part of the climb up to St Jerome where the former dwellings are actually carved into the edge of a giant boulder, with tiny doorways nestled into the rock.

(apologies but we could not find a workable map)
by Max Blackmore
2016
noscribbles.com

natuaraltombestone.tumblr.com

Sentiero degli Dei is translated ‘Walk of the Gods’ and I have read a few suggestions as to why. The most mystical being that it is the path the Greek gods took to save Ulysses from the sirens. More realistic, but far more dull, is that it was so called because of the numerous Roman temples scattered across the slopes. Either way, the names is deserved on the basis of the stunning scenery viewed from such great heights. At times my head span at the height we were at and the sheer drops to the sea with nothing to stop me from going over the edge other than my own sensibility.  

You can join the path at various points along it by climbing the seemingly endless stairs from one of the towns at the bottom. Or you can cheat and get a bus. Once you reach the path it is not long before you are rewarded with incredible vistas of the Mediterranean below as well as lemon groves and tiny villages that make you think of what life could have been like had you been born in a simpler time and place.

by Simon Joshua Peel

2014

simonjoshuapeel.com.au

By tradition, the Camino de Santiago is a Christian pilgrimage to the Spanish city of Santiago de Compostella. It has origins dating back to the 11th century. Today, El Camino welcomes pilgrims from all walks of life (pun intended), with the quietest periods from April to June and September to October.

There are multiple paths of the Camino.  Some as long as 1200km and others as short as 100km. I did a combination of Caminos. The first was the 820km path from St Jean Pied de Port (France) in the Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostella (Spain, aka Camino Frances) in northern Spain. The second took me 120km from Santiago de Compostella to the coast at Cape Finisterre (aka Camino Finisterre).

The Basque and Rioja regions at the start of the Camino Frances were a highlight for their red soils, mountain vistas and vineyards. As were the snow capped mountains and quaint villages around the town of Foncebadon. I thoroughly recommend the John Brierley Camino guidebooks as they detail elevations, distances and accommodation options. I referred to mine multiple times each day.

As far as downsides go, there are a couple. Like most cheap food, cheap Spanish food is pretty rubbish and doesn’t sustain you over a month of walking. Unless you intend on camping along the way (which is possible), you’ll want ear plugs for the snorers. Also, if you are used to more remote walks be prepared for some walking along ashphalt roads on the Camino. Be prepared too for the emotional lows that come with physical fatigue, processing of the past and dreaming up the future. These things will come up on a walk like this.

The highlight is being able to live the simple life. At it’s core, the Camino offers people an opportunity to live simply for about 5 weeks. By simple I mean spending time walking everyday, in an ever changing landscape, carrying only a few possessions, picnicing with people from all over the world and having time for reflection and conversations.

Length – 940km over 33 days

(apologies but we could not find a workable map)

by Rachelle Jones

2016

Rachellesjones.tumblr.com

Just an hour south east of Zürich in-between the jagged Appenzeller mountains and the beginning of the Glarus Alps, lies the Lake of Walen. Beautiful enough to inspire a solo piano piece by Hungarian romantic composer Franz Liszt, called Au lac de Wallenstadt. Lake Walen (Walensee) is a deep, dark and mysterious pool that lies at the foot of this equally inspiring alpine hike below the Churfirst peaks.

The hike begins at the not so charming Rehab Clinic Walenseestadtburg and continues West through a more charming chocolate box swiss alpine landscape above the lake. Not many minutes later you pass the compulsory stop of ‘Paxmal’, the  peace monument built by eccentric Swiss artist and stamp illustrator Karl Bickel.

From the monument you climb a very steep zig zag to the beginning of the high plateau. There is a whole other wold up there with panoramic views of peaks in all directions and a ‘teletubbyland’ rolling snow fields east back towards Walenseestadt. This route allows for spectacularly close-up views of the Churfirsten rock walls and fjord-like Lake Walen below.

After a hurried jog for a couple of hours because you didn’t realise the snow would be thigh deep and you start stressing because you’re wearing shorts and sneakers, and your girlfriend already got stuck in a snow drift up to her armpits, this causes you to get pretty stressed. After a little more stress you arrive at the perfectly located Alp Tschingla, here you can relax with a bottle of Rivella and enjoy the view.

Now its a seriously vertical descent through a gorge-like forested valley that ends back at Walenseestadtburg.

(Length - 11km)

By Nick Ashby

2015

www.montyfairview.com

Route: Gotthardhospiz - dam Lago Lucendro - Lago d'Orsino - Laghi d'Orsirora - Gatscholalücke - Laghi di Valletta - Lago Lucendro - Gotthardhospiz

As an introduction, this walk is set in Switzerland, at the border between the Italian and German speaking regions by the infamous Gotthardpass (Italian:Passo del San Gottardo). The pass has been a major and strategic link between Italy and Switzerland since the middle ages, highly fortified and occupied during the wars. It was further developed during the twentieth century with sealed highways and currently the worlds longest alpine tunnels, the region now displays a unique and very Swiss feel with its surreal mix of colossal concrete dams and a web of power lines calmly and comfortably imbedded in one of the most picturesque and traditionally beauty blessed mountainscapes in the Alps.

Atop the pass is the Ospizio San Gottardo, a particularly serene work of architecture by Basel based practice Miller & Maranta, who’s bluntly subtle renovation of an ancient Alpine Hospice is an essential night spent with views all the way to Italy.
From here the 4 or so hour walk scrambles amongst military pill boxes disguised as boulders and multiple generations of highways that weave through a misty moss covered landscape that shrugs indifferently at these brief scars of civilisation. As you head towards the towering wall of the dam of Lago di Lucendro the walk begins steeply up a scramble of tussock passed abandoned hydro buildings and spillways. From here the walking is straight forward, just follow the painted rocks until you have passed 5 increasingly beautiful lakes. Towards the top is a necessary side walk to the ‘Passo d’Orsirora / Gatscholalücke 2528m), the views from here are west towards the French speaking valleys and the neighbouring ‘Furkapass’ where James Bond raced his Aston in ‘Goldfinger’.
Take your swimmers for the lakes.
For the experienced the pass can completed on cross country ski's during thewinter.

13.22km

by Nicholas Ashby
2014

montyfairview.com

If you Have been to Croatia you most likely have dipped into the the Adriatic from the night club lined beaches in the city of Split. To get relatively easy access to the Dinaric’s you can catch a bus from central Split to a tiny little town called Sitnoe Gornje. It doesn’t seem like much goes on in Sitnoe except a small bar run by a really friendly old Croatian man (and his cat) and a stream of busses back to Split. Definitely remember the bar is there for a post hike Karlovačko (beer).

The only information I found on the internet about hiking up Mt Mosor (other than organised tour groups) was to follow the red and white hand painted markers (hence no map). To begin, you walk up a pebbled road at the top of a hill that is still used as a donkey cart route up the mountain. It’s relatively easy going just mind the occasional pile of donkey crap and some oversized sharp pebbles. The donkey path takes you pretty high so you get an impressive view of all the farms and towns below.

After a while you will follow the markers off the donkey route and start scrambling up a less cart friendly track. Sometimes the markers get kinda hard to see but you will find them eventually. The path opens up as you reach the first hill top, you’ll see a donkey shed and a beautiful chalet looking house used by the local mountaineering club (who are responsible for the markers). It is a bit eerie in the winter with nobody around but on a crisp clear blue sky day you can see for miles.

There are multiple routes you can take up the different summits around Mosor, one route (i forget the name) has an ominous Catholic cross at the very top that seems to follow you everywhere.

(apologies but we could not find a workable map)

by Max Blackmore
2015

noscribbles.com
natuaraltombestone.tumblr.com

Away from the skiers and boaters around Aviemore, the route up Bynack More is one of the Cairngorms’ less trafficked walks that’ll let you forget you’re in primo highland holiday country.Winding up from the main car park in Glenmore, you may find your dreams of Narnia-esque woodland slightly deflated as the path through The Queen’s Forest is bordered by large swathes of logging. Clear that though, and the trees soon thin out of their own accord as the path gradually snakes up to Meall a' Bhuachaille, an 810 metre Corbett topped by a giant (and conveniently wind-breaking) cairn (a mound of rough stones).

Over the hill there’s the cosy-looking Ryvoan bothy and although tempting to put your feet up and read the pencilled graffiti it’s probably best to push on because really, Meall a' Bhuachaille is just the starter. Once you trod on east of the bothy you’ll find all the dog walkers and ciggie-puffing tracksuiters quickly disappear.
 
You’re never really alone though. Ptarmigans (snow chickens, essentially) make fairly regular cameos and announce themselves with perhaps the one of the most ungainly birdcalls going around.
 
From there it’s a gradual walk through low scrub and heather, dotted by small ponds, streams and the occasional abandoned mountain bike. But there’s plenty to keep your jaw dropping as you rise higher and higher above the valley.

We headed out on a pretty sunny mid-April day, leaving enough snow to make things postcard-y without running the risk of any “foolish-unprepared-Australians-missing-in-blizzard” nightmare headlines. Trekking up above the valley the remnants of last night’s snow begin to appear, a white front gradually retreating back up the mountain. Pretty soon though those early glimpses are thoroughly trumped by the snow-capped Bynack More itself.
 
Being without hardcore gear and still a little green when it came to trudging through a mountain’s worth of snow, we stuck to the footprints left by the lone pair of slightly more weathered walkers we bumped into on the way up.
 
Their makeshift path spiralled up and around each of the ridge’s successive peaks until we found ourselves at the Munro’s (scottish mountain) summit, standing 1090 metres up and looking across at the summits of Ben Macdui and Cairngorm. Just down the other side are some apparently iconic rock formations, but given the rate the snow was melting we opted to scramble back down the way we came.
 
Even in the hour or so spent on the final climb, much of the snow we passed through had cleared by the time we made the long, slow descent back down, desperately hoping the ice hadn’t soaked through to our socks.
 
Passing south of the bothy this time, the trees grow thicker as you dip down the valley to Lochan Uaine. A long oval of green water backed by a granite cliff-face, Lochan Uaine is a convergence point for many of the criss-crossing paths whose starting points dot the main road up to the Cairngorm ski slopes.
 
Which, handily, leaves you with a few options depending on how knackered you are. To break up all the downhill action we picked another brisk forest climb which, after crossing paths with a few cute dogs to pat, opened up out the back of a reindeer farm within a few minutes walk of our starting point."

Words by Walter Marsh
Pictures by Sia Duff

2016

siaduff.com

This grade three scramble is one of the more notorious climbs in the Highlands, which follows the entire north ridge of Glencoe for 10km, linking two munro's (Scottish mountains over 3000ft).

Its bark is worse than its bite, however, if conditions are good and you don’t mind sheer drops and awkward scrambling then this is an exhilarating route with outstanding views. For the most part the holds are good and the rock is sound.

A Completely absorbing 10km scramble with incredible views. But on a negative note the trail ends 10kms from where you start so you have to hike back up the Glen to your car (worst option) or hitch a lift back up (recommended).

by David Boyson Cooper

2012

davidboysoncooper.com