Your Scandinavian escape begins in Sweden’s beautiful capital city Stockholm – also known as ‘The Capital of Life and Movement’. Stockholm is built upon 14 islands, all part of an archipelago. It’s a charming, vibrant city surrounded by beauty and water, hence its nickname, Venice of the North.
After enjoying a taste of the urban lifestyle Stockholm has to offer, it’s time to continue north – 200km inside the Arctic Circle to the last wilderness of Europe: Abisko. In this region, around ten thousand years ago, glaciers carved out a riverbed and the Torne River was born. Since then, the crystal clear and pure waters of the Torne River have flowed freely along its 600km path, through Lapland and out to the sea in the southeast.
It’s also here, that the world-famous Icehotel 365 awaits you. At the newly-built hotel, you can experience the natural beauty of the Torne River all year round. And thanks to the long days in the north, all energy for the new building will be produced by solar panels. Therefore, the Icehotel365 is essentially kept cool by the sun.
I never planned on going first, but somehow I’m called into action before the others. All I need to do is steer my kayak towards the ledge of the raging waterfall and launch myself off the vertiginous drop.
I paddle determinedly towards Eon, my guide, who stands like a beacon beside the point of no return. As I near the edge, the air becomes charged with tension and the deepening roar of the approaching waterfall intensifies. But in the last few seconds I sense disaster.
It’s hard to describe the feeling you get when your kayak decides to spin out of control just moments before you launch off the precipice of a waterfall. It’s like old mate Fear waking up in a good mood and deciding to go bungee jumping – hairy, yes, but totally exhilarating at the same time. A little embarrassing, too – especially when your kayaking troupe is in prime position to witness the spectacle.
Thankfully, disaster never comes. Before giving the rear of my kayak a mighty push in the final moments before the drop, Eon straightens me up as I raise my paddle overhead. Seconds later I land under the gushing waterfall and a smile blooms on my drenched face. Paddling towards the edge of the deep green pool, forged by centuries of relentless flowing water, I watch as the rest of my group faces their fears and take the plunge, one by one.
Things weren’t always so dramatic. For the past 48 hours I’ve been kayaking a section of the Zrmanja River through a rugged karst topography of canyons, caves and rock formations inside the Velebit Nature Park in Croatia’s Dalmatia region. I’m travelling with five Brits, and as the only Aussie I’m determined to make my country proud on this three-day adventure of wild camping, raging waterfalls and class II and III rapids. This is Croatia with the adventure factor dialed up to 11, minus the heaving tourist crowds.
Two days earlier we set off from Zadar, a historic town on the eastern shores fringing the Adriatic Sea. Famous for the architecturally designed musical instrument Morske Orgulje (Sea Organ), its myriad Roman, Venetian and Byzantine ruins, and being Croatia’s oldest continuously occupied city (it’s been inhabited as far back as ninth-century BC), Zadar is most memorable to me for having a name that sounds like the punchline of a magic trick. From here, it takes a little over 90 minutes by van to reach our first campsite at Kastel Zegarski, and along the way we pass Croatia’s largest mountain range, Velebit, which separates Dalmatia from the lush interior region of Lika. We also skirt by a raging bush fire edging the main road. Eon explains that this region is unfortunately prone to fires, especially during July and August.
As our kayaking adventure officially begins the next day, we spend the evening at the campsite getting acquainted over barbecued chicken, rice and beer. The night sky is so clear and dark out here that it’s actually possible to see the soft glow of the Milky Way and make out celestial constellations and asterisms like the Big Dipper. The need for sleep eventually wins out though, and I retire to my tent in preparation for the 11-kilometre paddle downstream that lies ahead.
I wake to the rooster’s resounding crow at 4am, but only feel compelled to get out of bed four hours later by the aroma of coffee and a delicious spread of meaty burek (flaky baked pastry), locally made cheese and fresh fruit. I’m keen to load up on carbs and caffeine for the day ahead, which will involve an eight-kilometre paddle that should take us four to five hours. Having only just completed a 15-day cycling trip through the Balkans, I’m eager to get out on the water to make sure my arms still work.
Soon I’m putting on my canary-yellow life vest, donning my red helmet and stepping into my black neoprene booties after a short safety talk. The six of us are divided into three teams of two and allocated blue rubber double kayaks.
“We don’t use hard kayaks on the river anymore as they can destroy the area’s delicate travertine,” Eon says as we make final preparations. I’m paired with Ros, an accountant from London, and moments later we’re taking our first strokes downstream on the calm, green Zrmanja River under a thick canopy of fig, juniper and hornbeam trees.
It’s evident from the get-go that staying on course is going to be a challenge over the next two days. As captain of the kayak, I’m sitting at the back, and it’s my job to keep us paddling in the right direction. But despite my best efforts, what should be a peaceful paddle down the river erupts into a frantic and frustrating fight to reel the vessel back in line and divert impending doom in the form of crashing into poke-your-eye-out branches or worse, other kayakers.
Thankfully, Ros is a complete pro at detecting even the slightest deviation and is able to synchronise with my strokes to bring the kayak back to its rightful position on the river. This back and forth is a constant theme throughout the trip. The threat of spinning out of control weighs on my shoulders, hanging in the air like a bad smell. One moment of distraction or a little too much muscle in a stroke and the battle to steer the kayak back on track begins.
Crafted by Mother Nature after the last Ice Age when sea levels swelled to more than 120 metres, the Zrmanja River and its estuaries flaunt a rich biodiversity of plant and animal life, including rare species of endemic birds and freshwater fish, such as the Zrmanja dace. The surrounding banks are also prime grazing territory for goats, cattle and sheep. “And snakes,” Eon says with a deadpan expression as we paddle through a flat bucolic section of the river. Whether he’s being serious or just pulling our legs remains a mystery.
Two hours of paddling later and we’re rounding a bend where the confluence of the Zrmanja and Krupa rivers begins and we dock our kayaks at a grassy meadow nearby. From here we’ll hike up to the eight-metre Krupa River waterfall for a splash and swim before returning back to our kayaks to sate our grumbling stomachs. As we clamber up the rocky path towards the falls, sunlight filters through chinks in the canopy and the general chatter slowly dissolves into silence until we reach the top.
It’s at this point that I must confess: I can’t really dive. My attempts almost always result in a red belly (and face to match). The others, however, can and do and it doesn’t take long before our swimming break turns into a faux spectacle reminiscent of the trial stages for the FINA Diving World Series. I’m happy to just bomb away and wallow in the 20-degree pool beneath the roaring waterfall, its contours arranged in a way that almost hints at design, its walls harbouring shadows that cling to the mossy travertine. But, somewhat inevitably, I’m encouraged to demonstrate my diving form – after all, someone has to represent Australia, right? And, just as inevitably, the result of my effort is a resounding slap in the gut and a reverberating crack that provokes pitying laughter from the crowd. Evidently, I still need to work on my technique.
After a tasty lunch of sandwiches, local cheese and fruit we’re back on the water. We paddle through lush corridors of Mediterranean oak and European nettle trees and float past grassy banks smeared with heather and water mint. It’s an incredible tapestry of colours and textures, occasionally lulling us into serene silence amongst the singing birds and the rustling leaves played by a gentle wind.
Further downstream we navigate tumbling sections of class II and III rapids, injecting an addictive dose of adrenalin into our veins. We kayak through rugged canyons sparsely covered in thickets of hardy vegetation, paddle past rock formations that resemble faces and bits of faces – such as the karst monument jutting out from the water known locally as “Grandmothers Tooth” – and spy a trio of cows grazing on an island meadow made accessible by shallow water.
Eventually we reach our second and final campsite, perched on the side of the river just metres away from the roaring 3.5-metre Ogar waterfall. After setting up our tents and donning our swimmers, it’s straight to the falls for the ‘finals’ of the diving championship. We spend the afternoon swimming, chatting and jumping off the waterfall into the refreshing water. There’s no way I’ll be able to rank for a medal in diving this year. But that’s totally fine with me – I don’t mind coming back next year for another crack.
Breakfast is already on the table by 8am the next morning and a couple of the guys are walking back from a morning swim. I fuel up with strong coffee and a selection of pastries, muesli and fruit. We’re only paddling three kilometres today – the final stretch of the trip before reaching the village of Muškovci where we’ll de-kayak and have a celebratory beer – but I can’t help having seconds and thirds of the light, flaky cheese burek.
We still have some fears to face before the beers, though. Launching ourselves off Ogar waterfall – the last major obstacle of the trip – promises one final rush of adrenalin. We jumped and dived off it the day before, but today we’re taking it on with our kayaks. For safety reasons we’ll ride solo on this last major hump and go down one by one, and I’m called in to tackle the waterfall first. It’s true, I may not be able to dive, but I have no problems standing toe-to-toe with fear. Besides, all I need to do is paddle my kayak in a straight line. How hard could it be?
Venturing below the earth’s surface may not conjure thoughts of soaring vast distances with abandon. But beneath the countryside of Snowdonia, the Zip World Caverns are challenging the status quo. Caves within 200-year-old slate mines in Blaenau Ffestiniog have been sectioned off and transformed into the world’s largest underground zip-line course.
The grotto’s 11 zip-lines, as well as rope bridges and via ferratas, are suspended almost 30 metres above the cavern floor, ensuring non-stop adrenaline. Colourful lights illuminate the immense caves and narrow chambers as you zoom through. Becoming part of the underworld has never been more exhilarating.
Dublin’s draconian-looking lockup, built in 1796 and complete with its own hanging cell, Kilmainham Gaol has incarcerated an eclectic mix of unfortunates in god-awful conditions, from women and children accused of petty crimes through to some of the most influential figures to ever stride through Irish history – rebels, politicians, poets and nation shapers.
It was here that the British executed the leaders of the 1916 Easter Uprising, leading to the War of Independence and all manner of punch-ups ever since. No longer in service, these days – when it’s not being used as a film set (it’s starred in many movies, from The Italian Job to In the Name of the Father) – it’s a popular attraction for visitors.
Do you want to get a natural high? Rather than thinking of Spain as a place to explore medieval towns and laze on sun-drenched beaches, why not try sleeping in a tree instead? Situated in the branches of oaks in the centre of the Guilleries Forest, the tree houses are accessed via suspended bridges and wooden ladders. To protect the natural surrounds there’s no electricity or running water, but there’s access to showers and a pool at the nearby homestead. Chill out on your deck with a sangria and drink in the stunning views of the Montseny and the Pyrenees.
Strap in for an adventure imbued with diversity and enriching culture on Intrepid Travel’s Baltic Experience, traversing Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland and Germany.
Among the many awe-inspiring experiences you’ll have on this adventure (ancient architecture, jaw-dropping landscapes, quirky bars and local hospitality are just a few things you’ll touch on), one that shines particularly bright is a visit Lithuania’s Aukštaitija (pronounced ‘Owk-sty-chee-ah’) National Park, one of the most magical nature reserves in the Baltic states. After checking into our homestay, swap your packs for paddles as you prepare to embark on a guided kayak tour with a local guide, gliding along the quaint, pristine waterways that make up the 126 lakes Aukštaitija National Park is famous for.
Your start point is the charming village of Ginučiai, located on the shores of Lake Linkmenas, right next to a nineteenth-century watermill (it’s worth a look in, too: it’s only one of six traditional watermills left in the national park and has been preserved as a museum and a technical monument for its authentic equipment). The kayak trip will take you past little villages, and through forests and dense reed, to a hill with fantastic views across the surrounding lakes and forests. The hill is a pagan site with a wishing tree on top. Upon return back to our home stay in the village look forward to a home-cooked dinner and some great hospitality by our local hosts.
The itinerary is set, but you can make it your own. A voyage along Norway’s pristine coastline with Hurtigruten takes you into quaint coastal communities, through stunning fjords and UNESCO World Heritage sites, and along more than 1600 kilometres of diverse nature. Not convinced? Let us break down why this 11-day adventure is a must for your bucket list.
Beginning in Bergen, you’ll marvel at the colourful houses that populate this charming city. Though a popular destination for modern day travellers, Bergen still retains much of its local character and history. Next navigate through skerries and islands before reaching the Art Nouveau port town of Ålesund, the gateway to the jewel in Norway’s crown, Geirangerfjord. With its cascading waterfalls, sugar-white peaks and sheer cliffs, this UNESCO World Heritage-listed fjord could have been lifted straight from the land of fairy itself, and you’ll have the opportunity to experience during the summer months. Days three and four will see you exploring Trondheim which was founded in 997 A.D, followed by the crossing of the Arctic Circle at 66 degrees 33 minutes north.
Now you’re approaching Tromsø, the capital of the Arctic and one of the best places to experience the magic and wonder of the northern lights dancing across the skies. Take advantage of the many optional excursions for the next few days as you continue to sail north – from whale watching, husky dog sledding and kayaking to delving into Sami culture and visiting the northern-most point on the continent at the North Cape.
Day seven marks the turning point of the 11-day voyage but not before a stop in Kirkenes, located just a few miles from the Russian border. Here, the scenery changes quite dramatically. Southbound, you’ll sail past Fruholmen, home to Europe’s northernmost lighthouse, towards the contrasting landscapes of the Vesterålen archipelago, renowned as a year-round whale-spotting destination, and the equally stunning Lofoten, both a stunning stand-out for many. With much reluctance, you’ll have to tear yourself away from Lofoten – yes, we know, it’s tough! – but you’ll be rewarded for your sacrifice as you sail onwards towards the Helgeland coast and pass by the Seven Sisters mountain range, a vast bastion of remarkable jagged peaks scores with hiking trails and imbued with local legends. The last day of your unforgettable journey gives you another opportunity to explore the city of Trondheim as you disembark and wave farewell to your travel companions.
If you’ve got a thing for adventure on two wheels, Switzerland’s Jungfrau Region is calling your name. Grosse Scheidegg, one of Europe’s most stunning passes, is waiting for you to jump on your bike and hit the pavement. Reaching a peak altitude of 1962 metres, flanked by snow-capped glaciers and lush mountains, the journey is captivating one. You won’t have to worry about dodging traffic to enjoy it either – aside from the famous yellow PostBuses the roads here are car-free.
Take a deep breath as you head off – the Grosse Scheidegg is not for the faint-hearted. Starting from Meiringen, it’s a 16-kilometre journey up to the summit, tackling steep gradients along the way as you pump up the 1300-metre incline. At the top you’ll be rewarded with breathtaking panoramic views that make the climb well worth it.
The somewhat dizzying descent from the summit will see you cruising into the quaint village of Grindelwald where you can rest at the foothills of the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau massif. Continue on through the winding roads along the Lütschine River to Interlaken, a hub for outdoor enthusiasts, before looping back along the sparkling shores of the Brienz Lake to Meiringen.
Having conquered 79 kilometres of terrain – most of which remains almost untouched by explorers – you’ll be well deserving of a cold drink and a long sleep at the end of it.
Sunk deep in metres of snow atop a mountain overlooking Switzerland’s Lake Grimsel is a magical winter getaway. At the Hotel Grimsel Hospiz, the past and the present merge. It’s a place of firsts; the first certified guesthouse of Switzerland was located at this exact spot, way back in 1142. Then, almost 800 years later, Grimsel Hospiz caused quite a sensation when it became the Europe’s first house to be heated via electricity in 1932. Following a complete renovation, the 4-star alpine hotel melds its history with modernity, taking advantage of its location in the heart of the KWO catchment area (a sustainable hydroelectric power producer) to heat the entire property by using hydroelectric waste-heat so you’ll be toasty warm in these cooler temps.
The hotel is an idyllic place to switch off from the world – think cosy boudoirs, crackling fires, open-air restaurant with sweeping views across the powdered peaks and Lake Grimsel, and steaming hot tub – but it’s the journey to your dreamy winter hideaway that’s the true kicker. The winter snows thwart a direct route to the property, so you’ll be swapping the traditional hotel transfer for a series of stunning journeys by bus and gondola where you’ll be accompanied by a hotel visitor guide.
Meet your guide at the headquarters of the KWO in Innertkirchen, where you’ll board your bus to Handeck, then journey by gondola from Handeck to Gerstenegg. The bus ride through the tunnel system of the power plants ends at Sommerloch, where you take the final gondola up through the mountains to Hotel Grimsel Hospiz. Once at the hotel, you’ll find yourself in a peaceful and pristine world, far away from the hustle.
Mother Nature sure can be a bitch. Here we are, in a village in the midst of the Scottish countryside, preparing to honour one of the greatest rock ’n’ roll singers of all time, and she’s decided to dump a load on us. Of unseasonable spring snow, that is. Drums are removed from the back of a flatbed truck, pipers are sent packing and there’s a general scurrying towards the pub.
The Thrums is a cosy public house that takes its name from the works of one of Kirriemuir’s famous former residents, JM Barrie. You can imagine that, for most of the year, locals sit at the bar and chat about the Scottish premier league or whatever’s made the news. Today, however, the place is heaving. People are four deep waiting for their pint and crammed into the pub’s every corner. Bizarrely, the television is tuned to the game between North Melbourne and the Western Bulldogs. I strike up a small-talk conversation with an Australian couple also watching. It isn’t until they’re ushered away that I make the connection – the man is Mark Evans, former bass player with AC/DC.
We’re in Kirrie, as everyone calls it, for the tenth annual Bonfest, a celebration of the village’s favourite son, Ronald Belford Scott. The three-day party offers free music in the town’s pubs and nightly gigs by rock bands and AC/DC tribute shows, as well as talks, signings and a market day. It was all due to kick off at 1.45 on this Friday afternoon with a re-creation of the famous film clip for ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top’ – well, as closely as you can re-create something shot on Melbourne’s Swanston Street in a tiny town in the Highlands. The fully loaded vintage lorry was all ready to go when the storm came. Stupid storm.
Still, you can’t keep a good rocker down, and the equipment has been hastily moved into the Thrums where the atmosphere is building. There are folks here dressed in kilts, denim jackets covered in AC/DC cloth patches and Bonfest ‘Crew’ t-shirts; then there are others who just look like your average beer drinker out searching for a quiet shandy. Are those guys going to be surprised. Finally, the band hits the stage and the weekend is officially on like Donkey Kong. If anyone was in any doubt they merely needed to check the number of empty glasses rapidly accumulating on the tables edging the room.
This year Bonfest is an especially big deal for organisers John Crawford and Graham Galloway. Not only is it the tenth year they’ve run the gathering, but this is also going to be the biggest one ever. The nighttime activities have moved from Kirriemuir Town Hall to a big top on a field at the bottom of the hill. They’ve assembled a huge cast of Bon’s band mates and friends – along with Mark Evans, there’s the rocker’s longtime confidante and sometime girlfriend Mary Renshaw, Tony Currenti, who drummed on AC/DC’s debut High Voltage, and Bob Richards, who filled in for drummer Phil Rudd when he was having some trouble with the law. Then there’s Saturday’s big event, but that’s getting ahead of ourselves because today things are just getting warmed up.
There’s not so much a stage at the Thrums as a part of the floor marked out by foldback wedges, speakers and equipment. The first band due to appear, a local trio called Ganked, has been bumped to accommodate the changing situation. Two fully decked-out pipers stand at either edge of the room, the members of Bon The AC/DC Show file in, Mark Evans grabs the bass, and they finally get to let rip with ‘Long Way to the Top’. ‘The Jack’, ‘TNT’ and lots of back-slapping and cheersing later, and we’re back on schedule.
The guys from Ganked finally get to take their spot. It soon becomes obvious Bonfest isn’t all about AC/DC, as much as the crowd would, perhaps, prefer it. This is more acoustic than metal, and Ganked plays a fistful of hits from the likes of the Police, Feargal Sharkey and Dexys Midnight Runners.
“When are you going to play some real fookin’ rock,” yells a red-cheeked bloke wearing a patched vest. Not to be intimidated, the band launches into ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’. Eventually, they give the crowd what they’ve been waiting for and play a lesser-known AC/DC track, ‘Big Balls’.
It could never have been the organisers’ intention, but AC/DC is definitely in the news this weekend. Long-time singer Brian Johnson had announced he’d be leaving the band due to hearing issues, and in the days before the gathering in Kirriemuir the group’s tour dates had been rescheduled with Guns N’ Roses’ Axl Rose as the replacement front man. No one, it seems, is happy.
“I’d rather do this than go and see AC/DC with Axl Rose,” a man in a kilt says to his mate in another of the local pubs, the Roods. “It’s all over now,” his friend replies, mournfully. “The drummer’s in prison, the singer’s deaf and the guitarist is gone.” He takes a long swig of his pint.
It’s a common conversation over the weekend. People who have tickets to see the band in Portugal, London and other cities in the weeks to come are trying to offload them to no avail. No one is sure how Rose, who is known to have a precarious relationship with time management, would go playing with the hardest working band in show business. There is talk that Angus, the only remaining original member, should simply call it quits. (Everyone’s fears were for nothing: Rose won acclaim for his gigs with the band. Johnson, meanwhile, has been testing a new in-ear monitor that should allow him to get back out on the road.)
As the afternoon draws on, fans begin slipping out of the pubs to form a tiny procession down the Kirriemuir hill to the field where the evening’s entertainment will begin. There’s the huge big top, where the bands will play, two smaller ones selling merch and drinks, and a burger van. A small huddle of tents with a backdrop of hills doused in snow is pitched a small distance away. This is the sanctuary of the crazy-brave types who have booked the £20 weekend camping tickets.
Each evening, three bands are going to strut their stuff in the big top in front of about a thousand fans, some of whom have strung up AC/DC signs announcing their own home towns. There are a lot of Germans in attendance, but also guys (they’re invariably guys) who’ve travelled in from Spain and other parts of Europe. Mainly, though, there are a lot of Scots, many of them from Kirriemuir – every shop in the town has a Bonfest display in its window and the local sweet shop has Let There Be Rock candy canes for sale – and nearby villages, as well as cities further afield. Despite the huge number of people who’ve filled Kirrie to almost breaking point, there’s still the atmosphere of a village fete. It appears as though everyone knows everyone else, but, as the weekend wears on, it becomes apparent it’s more that everyone is quite happy to meet everyone else.
First up this evening is Reddog, a power trio from Crieff, about 75 kilometres away. The sound is certainly AC/DC-esque, but, thankfully – since how many times can you really listen to ‘Highway to Hell’ in one weekend? – they mix originals in with covers like ‘Cold Hard Bitch’ by Australian band Jet, who were once described by NME as a mix of the Rolling Stones and Acca Dacca. They’re followed by guitar rock band, the Ruckus, from Aberdeen.
The crowd has grown as the sun has set, the beer tent has been doing a roaring trade and everyone is primed and ready for that night’s main event, Back:N:Black. Go to the band’s website and you’ll see this modest claim: “We’re just five girls who dig playing AC/DC more than anything.” Yes, girls. They’re based in Switzerland, tour the world, have played Montreux Jazz Festival and, from the second they step on stage, they’ve got the Bonfest crowd in the palms of their hands. It doesn’t hurt that they are smoking hot, but they certainly have the tribute band thing nailed. They are pure rock, from their torn tights to the note-perfect re-creation of AC/DC’s hits, starting with ‘High Voltage’ and leaving no fan favourite from their sprawling set list. No one, least of all them, it seems, is keen for the night to be over.
The next morning, there’s a collective sigh of relief. Today is the Big Day, and the sun has burst through the cloud. In the Kirriemuir car park, a substantial crowd begins to gather as the morning draws on. Stalls are set up selling coffee and baked goods, artwork and AC/DC memorabilia. There’s a truck (this one covered) set up with gear for an afternoon set by Spanish tribute band Chaman, and people are gathering around a tall iron fence. Within it there’s a large, blanket-covered form. For the past two years, the Bonfest crew and AC/DC fans have raised £45,000 to have a statue of Bon Scott made and erected in the town of his birth. As the time for its unveiling draws ever nearer the crowd swells. They’re banked up the hill and perched in trees and on fences – anything that’s a bit higher and gives them a view of proceedings. By the time Mark and Mary tear off the coverings to reveal sculptor John McKenna’s work – bagpipes, tatts and all – an estimated 2500 people are watching. It’s an emotional moment, particularly for those who knew the singer. “I always liked Bon, and now I know why,” says Mark to the assembled masses. “He was from here.”
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