Discover Lilly Pad Village: Family-Friendly Activities in Blue Ridge, GA

Ewa sank in the wet afternoon snow, through an ice trapdoor hiding a crevasse below, and stabbed her calf with a freshly sharpened crampon as I kept tension on the rope. Tears fell from her face as she struggled to get out of the hole. These few weeks had been long, with many firsts: first expedition, first time above 5,000m, and the first time we had both summited an unclimbed mountain. She clawed her way back to the surface and I saw the tears glisten on her cheek. I took a second to unde

It’s December in north-western Myanmar and I’m travelling upriver in a soupy pre-dawn fog. A Stygian realm of uncertain edges and amplified sounds; lights blur in the formless gloom, water plashes against the bow. As night smudges to day, the sharp serrations of the Naga Hills take form to the north, white towers of cloud toppling off their peaks. After a month of motorcycling solo across the Indian state of Nagaland I’m heading for Myanmar’s Naga Self-Administered Zone, a jagged seam of mou

I’m addicted to cycling in the high mountains. There is this special feeling, when, after a hard day of exhausting ascent, I finally put my head to the pillow, my joints crack as I adjust position – a warm meal is in my stomach, dry lips say goodnight to my girlfriend – lying next to me in her sleeping bag – and I finally allow myself to relax and just let go. Even through closed eyes, I can still see the rocky trail ahead of me, as the front tyre jumps from side to side, trying to keep me up