Where did you find inspiration for your last adventure? In a book, a magazine, a photograph? That spark of an idea can come from any number of sources. Sometimes though, we find deeper reasons to visit somewhere, a connection that goes beyond the simple desire to travel, and to experience the world. Lost Gringos tells the story of one of those cases. Sam Smoothy, has been part of the freeride circuit since 2004. He skies back to back seasons, leaving behind the competitive atmosphere of the

I cower behind my bike, hoping it will shield me from a flustered flock of sheep launching off the steep mountainside above. Whoosh. Thump. Over the track and my head they jump, hurtling towards the creek below. My mind flashes forward to home – and to the distinct possibility of my husband answering the door to the police. ‘We’re sorry to inform you that your wife has been killed by a flock of freaked-out sheep.’ Marauding sheep are, however, the least of our worries. Our group has a far mo

After pitching my tent in the rain for the fifth time in as many days, I sat down, still in my dry suit, to complete my daily facial ablutions with a wet wipe. All around me the damp forests of Canada’s Northwest Territories did their best to prevent me from experiencing any sensation of dryness. I was cold, wet, and tired; all of which increased the aching in my body. Lyn Elliott, the team leader of this canoe expedition down the Little Nahanni River, was seated in front of her tent when s

Cat Vinton went on to spend three months living with Sabai, her husband Tat and their three young sons. Home was a small hand-crafted wooden boat called a kabang that served as a kitchen, bedroom and communal living area. Open to the elements at either end, a cold wind would howl through the boat sapping warmth from its barely covered inhabitants: ‘Diam, meaning cold, was the first Moken word I learned. Seeing me shiver, the mum gathered up her youngest son and placed him on top of me like a

Charley Radcliffe and photographer Alex Buisse head to the Argentiere Glacier high above the Chamonix Valley to discover what adventures and opportunities lie beyond the groomed pistes. I can’t work out what has taken my breath away most: the exertion of skinning up the glacier at over 3,000m above sea level; the massive north faces of the Aiguilles Verte, Droites, and Courtes; or the fact that I am finally here, where I have dreamed about being since moving to Chamonix in 2014. High on th

Ripples of silver brown water flow west, and even in the shallows the force of it grips my legs, pulling me with it. A small stone, dislodged, bounces onto my foot with a gentle tap. It settles momentarily before it continues its journey through the aeons to the coast. This is the long game of life, a mountain crumbling to the sea, a cycle played visibly and openly in Oregon’s High Desert. Four huge glaciated volcanoes dominate the skyline of the High Desert Plains. Bare black lava flows, so

Sidetracked: Thanks for chatting to us Steve. So, starting from the beginning, did you have an adventurous childhood? Steve: Very much so, yes. My mum and dad are very adventurous people. Both of them worked for the airlines. They took us all over the world to India, Africa, Sri Lanka, and South America. They’re still very, very adventurous people, even now. They brought us up on a small holding surrounded by rescue animals so it was an adventurous childhood. That’s why I’m doing what I do

It is funny how the little things in life can stir moments of clarity in us. How ideas can arise from these moments which inspire us to see things from an entirely different angle – and realise that what at first seemed impossible might in fact be possible. Ever since I learned about the advent of the fat bike in Alaska, and threw a leg over my very own, I have been finding inspiration from within to explore the bounds of my abilities: to do desert tours up sandy washes, to ride up a snow-pa

Below Mt Geryon in the Central Highlands of Tasmania is a pool – the Pool of Memory. It’s said that it remembers everything that is held in its reflection, across the aeons that have eroded the massif. The blurred pattern of the Milky Way wheeling above. The rise and fall of animal kingdoms. The brief, recent, and irrelevant human endeavours on its flanks. Though the water churns and is replaced, the Pool never forgets. But the best human lives are not cursed with an unfailing memory. The b

A pack of Chilean horsemen rode serenely through the wave of weary tourists now flooding from the national park. Their walking sticks flailed, adding to the confusion of dust and low light, language, and fading adrenaline. We too made our way through the crowd, heading back out to the mountains, ready for another lap. James and I had travelled down to Patagonia a week earlier and fast-packed a four-day reconnaissance around the Torres del Paine Massif – a classic 60-mile trek known as the ‘O

Head swimming, I lay flat out on the floor of the bus shelter, drenched in rusty, lukewarm water that reeked of chlorine. For the second time in three days I had been hit with heat exhaustion. I felt nauseous, my legs and back were cramping painfully, and my head was attempting to explode. I began to question the sanity of my life choices. Angus and I had left the sweltering shores of the Bay of Bengal just seven days ago, wincing from fresh jellyfish stings. We were setting out to walk acro

When I’m offered the chance to interview the climber Melissa Arnot, the first thing I pick up on is the fact that she’s climbed Everest five times, guides clients all over the world and recently led an exploratory mission to some newly opened peaks in Nepal. Wow. There’s nothing new, of course, in female alpinists – just ask Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner or Lynn Hill – and Arnot, 32, stands in a long tradition that stretches back to those doughty Victorian women of the 19th century. Her journey to

A low growl materialized from the primeval mangrove forest that lined the edge of the water. All alone, in the midst of a remote marine lake in Indonesia, knowing that saltwater crocodiles exist in this type of habitat, I attempted to focus on composing my photographs. But I couldn’t help swivelling my eyes along the surface of the motionless water and the shores of the small lake, looking for swimming logs with reptilian eyes and long teeth. I’m the type of diver who likes to explore sites

Having grown up watching David Attenborough documentaries, to think of Borneo was to dream of distant lands covered in thick rainforest, where the deadliest of beasts battled over territory, and aboriginal tribes practiced headhunting. It was a place where only the most daring of explorers would choose to go, so that became one of our primary goals; travel to Borneo, venture deep into the rainforest and seek out Orangutans in the wi

I live in a city. I found running, because it was simple. I could do it before or after work and even on the busiest of days, I could make time for a quick sprint around the block. Day in, day out, my runs start and finish on pavement. I might break out into suburban trail, trace edges of parks and fields, charge through patches of woodland, but I am never far away from the sounds of cars, from buildings, from people. My running provides a mental, if not physi

In Sidetracked Volume Five, Aldo Kane tells his story of working within the Ebola Redzone in Sierra Leone. Here, he takes a closer look at fear and how to cope with this extreme emotion. The four of us hurled ourselves face down in the sand. My lungs were screaming, trying to pull acrid air through the carbon filter attached to the side of my respirator. Sweat steamed up my mask and burned my eyes. It was the middle of the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, and well over 40 degrees. M

There are many ways to summit a mountain if you’re a 21st century alpinist. I’ve heard talk of climbing Mont Blanc three different ways in three days, of walking all the way up from the Chamonix valley – or if you’re the Catalan ultra-marathon runner Killian Jornet, you can run up and down in 4 hours and 57 minutes. Or why not just knock off all 82 peaks over 4,000m in Western Europe in one summer like Ueli Steck? This year Chamonix has been celebrating 150 years since the Golden Age of Alpi

This terrain was not what fat skis were made for. While they occasionally floated well enough on top of the slush, frequently Sheldon’s skis would sink in, disappearing into Slurpee-like glacial melt, sucking her downward the way certain types of mud grab your shoes. A struggle against downward suction. This was not supposed to be the crux of the trip, either. Sheldon Kerr, Emilie Drinkwater, Jessica Baker and Krystle Wright had flown by their objective four days earlier – the 7,000-foot ski

‘I surf alone a lot here,’ says cold-water surfer Sophie. ‘There aren’t many people who surf around here so it’s always very calm and peaceful.’ ‘Recently, I was out surfing on my own on a stormy and a full blizzard came in. It was below zero and a virtual white-out, freezing cold and the salt water and wind whipping me in the face. It was so cold! And I just burst out laughing. It’s good to feel alive – I guess that’s one of the best things about cold water.’