Together with Visit California, the Sidetracked team has been exploring the Golden State. We sent writers and photographers from north to south, inland and out into the Pacific, with one aim: discover the extremes of California. And that’s how we found ourselves speeding through the woods on the state’s best mountain bike trails, how we spearfished our lunch in kelp forests off a little-visited island in the Pacific, and how we joined sixth-generation ranchers on their annual cattle drive. W

Together with Switzerland Tourism, we guide you through the best that the regions of Bernese Oberland, Lake Geneva, Lucerne, and Valais have to offer. We embark on our own adventures in the regions and speak to local photographers and athletes to gain a deeper understanding of this beautiful and exciting country. For centuries, the Swiss Alps have beckoned the adventure seekers, the mountaineers, the explorers. Alpinism flourished and grew here in the 19th century as a new generation began

There was a twinge in the pit of my stomach as I waited to board a plane in Manila. Adrenaline surged every time I glanced up at the information screen and caught sight of my destination: Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea’s notorious capital. The anticipation grew throughout the bumpy six-and-a-half-hour flight across the easternmost part of the Indonesian archipelago, and I could hardly sleep. My search for traditional fire-making techniques was luring me to this great island for the third tim

March 11th 2016. Early morning, still dark, far west outback New South Wales, Australia. I lay collapsed face down where I had fallen – again. Half in, half out of my tent on the steep bank of the stagnant, coffee-coloured river. Despair. Black ants crawled over me. I wore nothing but torn and mud-stained board shorts, the drawstring loose and falling from my hips. Every minute my body would convulse, the muscles tightening hard as if they would snap. I sweated and shivered in equal measure.

Tortured by clegs that swarmed in the fierce heat, settling and sticking to sweat-soaked skin, bites boring into neck and calves, my shoulders burned. Swollen feet ached, and my lips cracked as I pushed the pace a little, sensing an end to the climb. Just ahead, the narrow road turned and passed through a wide col – the highest point I’d reach today. 17 miles in, another 9 to go. I’d been preparing myself for this moment. Paddling beneath the vast cliffs of Scotland’s north coast, approachi

Mountains, the sea, and the human psyche are knitted together by storytelling. These places have inspired tales since before we had the tools to write them down, and they still draw our curiosity. What’s at the top? How far over the horizon is the nearest land? What creatures might live where humans can’t survive? The mountains and the sea also have a deeper connection. There is a symmetrical beauty in travelling from the point where a mountain meets the sea to its very summit. There are ma

It’s pitch black as I sit sheltering from the wind and snow in a remote valley in Kyrgyzstan. I am keeping warm beside a crudely welded coal stove; my host, a herder living out here alone, just left to fire up an old diesel generator. The lights flicker on, dimming and rising rhythmically in sync with the hum of the engine. The door opens and closes in a burst of snow from the blizzard; he sits back down and quietly selects a DVD to put on the small TV in the corner. I am feeling a little ou

I remember that pain was always with me, but in time I stopped noticing it. I stopped hearing it, or even listening. One morning, I wake up and can’t feel my feet. I try to move them. I feel as if someone beat them with a stick the day before. I carefully pull them closer and bend them by force, pushing the endurance threshold much further than I can bear. I remember the pain of that broken thumb, the metallic taste of hypothermia, and the discomfort of stiffened clothes when the icy skin of

In 2017, parts of southern Greenland were added to the UNESCO World Heritage List for bearing witness to two cultures centuries apart. Daniel Neilson and Anders Brogaard, in association with Merrell and SportsShoes.com, travelled to Greenland to meet the sheep farmers who eke a living on the edge of the ice cap, and find unnerving parallels with the Norse who came before them and suddenly disappeared. The rib bounced across gentle waves and slalomed around icebergs. Even on the short trip a

Harris/Lewis has a long history of habitation and visitation stretching back over 5,000 years, its standing stones and burial mounds bearing witness to its ancient, often bloody history. Ruled by the Vikings for 400 years, it was a defensible wild place that remains an independent-natured land. The ferry boat capacity limits visitors, which thankfully means that planning and effort is required to dock on these shores. This has the effect of limiting the hordes visiting that would otherwise r

‘I belong to the ocean,’ says Spanish surfer Nagai Puntiverio, staring at the Pacific. We’re sitting on the roof of an apartment on Zicatela beach, Puerto Escondido, in the Mexican state of Oaxaca. In a couple of days’ time, the judges for the Big Wave World Tour will assemble to watch the world’s best big wave surfers compete in the Puerto Escondido Challenge. Earlier that day, I watched Nagai ride a monster wave – a tiny figure cut against a 30ft wall of water. Waves of 40-50ft were expect

As a child, I was fascinated by the exploits of the great adventurers. Climbing ice-covered peaks, reaching the poles by ski, or crossing the oceans alone seemed so surreal, but somehow I got lost on the way until I reached my thirties. Since then I have tried to catch up. Although I remain fascinated by adventurers and demanding expeditions, I am not an athlete – and, apart from getting lost in the mountains with my tent and faithful camera, I am not fond of sports in general. But adventure

It all started with a New Year’s resolution to check items off the ‘want to ski’ list. As a dedicated and passionate backcountry skier, going on wild ski adventures is the best way to achieve self-growth and peace of mind. I had been dreaming of going to Iceland to ski steep couloirs for as long as I can remember. There is something magical about this rugged landscape of snow and ice that pours into the sea. I am not sure if it’s the rugged coastal scenery, the harsh weather, the extremes be

The track, maintained by roaming cattle, had long since dissolved into coarse scrubland as I made for the outcrop that I would call home for the night. I was getting the hang of camping in the wild, knowing now that the key was to settle well before the sun touched the horizon. There was still warmth in the evening air and, with a bar of soap in hand, I crouched over a pan of water and washed away the day’s patina. I was thankful that I had brought a camp chair, even though I had never hear

I’m a fisherman shipwrecked on a remote, merciless coastline. A scraggly beard, ripped clothes and glazed look in my eyes tell of hardship endured. Walking east is my only hope of returning to civilisation. Leech-infested rainforests, mountain ranges, swamps and raging rivers stand in the way. This is as far from home as I’ll ever be. I feel disconnected from real life and detached from normality, losing myself in a castaway daydream. But I haven’t really been washed ashore. I chose this ch

Damp brush crackles in the fire, hissing with moisture as last night’s embers ignite. The first rays of muted, golden sunlight cut through the smoke as it climbs into the cloudless autumn sky. Fall has arrived on the Nelson River in northern Canada. The morning is completely calm. Except for the thunder of whitewater. A lone figure ambles around the riverside camp and into the makeshift kitchen crafted from tarps tied to rough cut logs. Camp stoves and cutlery are lightly dusted with bonfir

Ally is a force. Founder of the Wild Born Project, which explores birth and pregnancy among women in the world’s most remote tribal communities, Ally has been exploring, documenting and experiencing life among isolated indigenous people since she was 17 years old, with her first solo trip deep into the heart of Papua New Guinea. I met Ally through the Explorers Club, where she is a Fellow. Our connection was instant and deep and, as we live continents apart, unfurled primarily through socia

Leeches. Ugh, no more leeches, I thought. Their wriggling, spindle-like bodies were everywhere: dangling off dew-soaked bamboo, clinging tightly to the stems of the underbrush, and slowly inching up my rain pants. The path had long since disappeared. The persistent drizzle was threatening to become a downpour again. We took a short, uncomfortable rest and then resumed our journey, hacking through soggy bamboo forest taller than ourselves. I wonder if there are any in my hair? This was the An

She was striking, a head-turner in a crowd; totally out of our league. I’d let myself be seduced by her beauty. She’d let us think that we were the ones. Standing on the edge of the moraine I surveyed the detritus of other climbers, and our first ascent suddenly came into question. I felt betrayed. The moment I’d seen a photo of the perfect, snowy, pyramidal peak, standing proud in a remote valley in the far west of Nepal, I was smitten. Most enticing of all was that the mountain appeared to

I was cold, the coldest I had ever been in my life. Although we had zipped our sleeping bags together in an effort to maintain body heat, my companion next to me provided little to no warmth. Our two-season sleeping bags were having minimal effect against the temperatures outside, which had plummeted to somewhere between -10 and -15˚C. I rolled over in the darkness and saw that our fire had gone out. This was bad, a bad situation getting worse, and I wasn’t in any way certain that we would m