“I can’t believe I almost missed this,” I said aloud to my new friends as we walked down the sidewalk toward the Ping River. Above us, thousands of golden, twinkling lanterns were floating up and taking to the winds across the night sky, morphing and expanding along the thermals like a galaxy of stars. Just a few days earlier, I had made the decision to skip out on what would have been a much-too-short motorbike trip around the Mae Hong Son loop.
Instead, I met a Thai local named Samart who graciously hosted me for the week. I had the awesome opportunity to meet many of his friends, employees, and volunteers—a mixture of Thai locals and other travelers—who work with him at his bungalows outside Chiang Mai. Several of them had come into the city just for the Yi Peng and Loy Krathong festivals.
During these last 3+ months of travel, I have found the solo travel lifestyle to be a perfect way to deviate freely and openly. Without surprise, I have spent very little time traveling alone. Even traveling between locations, like my overnight train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, I have rarely been by myself or kept to myself. I meet couples, other solo travelers, old friends from back home, and locals. I strike up conversations, exchange contact info, and sometimes I even temporarily combine travel plans. But not being tied down to people in a permanent way has led me down alternative paths to other exciting adventures.
In this post I am going to highlight one of the best parts about solo travel through a moment when I was in Thailand and my plans with another traveler went awry. Why would being a solo traveler be a good thing in this case? Read on to find out.
I was going to call this post “Monks and Motorbikes” but then I realized you would all picture monks riding motorbikes around and that would have been completely inaccurate. My in-depth post about my interactions with monks will have to come later. Instead, this post is about the day I got over my fear of riding a motorbike which included a ride up to a Buddhist temple near Chiang Mai.
West of Chiang Mai is Doi Suthep-Pui National Park. Just before the Doi Suthep mountain summit (1676m) is the temple Wat Phra That Doi Suthep—a famous Buddhist pilgrimage site. Other travelers staying at the Julie Guesthouse suggested going there as a fun day trip. They mentioned songthaews and buses as the means to get up there. “Or you could just rent a motorbike,” said one traveler.
There was an excitement in the air each morning at the Big Bubble resort just after the sun had broke over the bay’s southern hills. Five of us divers would scramble to gather equipment and load it onto the small boat to carry out to the big boat where a large group of people would meet us from a neighboring resort. We’d travel out to our location, anchor up to the mooring, then jump in and descend.
After 3 days of these diving adventures, it was time to do something different. But I was not ready to leave the island yet. I ended up staying for an extra two nights. During this time, I got to experience more of the island life, connect with the local Thai people, swim and snorkel at the beaches, and celebrate a new friend’s birthday.
When I left Bangkok for Ko Tao, I had no idea what I was going to decide to do once I arrived at the dive resort where Astrid works. I have always wanted to take a SCUBA diving course and get certified, but I never thought I’d do it in Thailand. Between the excellent instruction I received, the great underwater visibility, and the diverse tropical fish and coral reef, I made the best decision to learn to dive off the shores of Ko Tao.
After the 9 hour bus and ferry ride from Bangkok, one of the Big Bubble resort taxi drivers picked me up from the port. Five minutes later, we arrived at the resort where I met KaiNui who is one of the master divers at Big Bubble. He introduced me to a list of dive options and their prices. The open water diver certification course involved watching a video, receiving short instruction in the classroom, and going on 4 dives, 2 the first day which were mainly training focused and 2 the following day which were for fun and practice. The course cost about $300 USD and included 4 nights’ accommodation in their bungalows. Normally there are up to 6 other divers in each training group, but because it was low season for tourists on the island, I ended up having a private instruction for the group price! You cannot get this kind of deal back home, so I was immediately in.
Before coming to Thailand, I had done an exorbitant amount of research on what to expect, what to avoid, and what to absolutely see and do. But as a rule in life, and also when I travel, I try not to have hard and fast expectations about things—I like to let my first-hand experience influence my impression and direct my path. This is how I create my own personal norm, tailored to me.
Pretty much every person and blog said something along the lines of “avoid the tourist trap of Khao San Road” or “go to Khao San Road just to experience it, but don’t stay there.” I decided to go against this advice completely by, instead, booking my first night of accommodation in the center of it all. I had researched some good, reasonably priced hotels in Bangkok and the one which stuck out to me was called the Rikka Inn. It was calling my name—literally!—and so I didn’t care about its location or its higher-than-usual price compared to the guesthouses in the area. I just knew I’d need a good night of sleep after the 11-hour flight from Munich.
When I realized my trip to Germany was perfectly timed with the annual Oktoberfest, I knew I had to go. As a New Yorker, and specifically a former resident of Astoria known for its Bavarian beer gardens, I was already well aware of what Oktoberfest is all about: drinking beer. But my visit to Oktoberfest in Munich, the birthplace of the event, proved I was only partially correct. Although copious amounts of beer are consumed, Oktoberfest involves so much more than just the beer!
Oktoberfest, locally known as Wiesn, began over 200 years ago when Prince Ludwig (later King Ludwig I) and Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen were married. The celebration of their marriage took place on the same field as the festival in Munich today but with horse races as the main attraction. When they repeated the horse races the following year the event was dubbed Oktoberfest. Each year that followed, more shows, attractions, and carnival booths were added to the festival.
“Do you want to go camping this weekend?” my friend Steffi asked me. The message came a few days before my return to Frankfurt after a week-long visit with family split between the two German cities, Bielefeld and Cologne. By chance, Steffi had found out the last of five Rhein in Flammen events of the year would be taking place the weekend I would be staying with them. Rhein in Flammen is an annual event every year in the summer involving fireworks and wine festivals at different locations along the banks of the Rhine.
Considered the “capitol of northern Iceland,” Akureyri sits at the Eyjafjörður fjord and is the second largest city with just under 18,000 people. We decided to make it our first and only two-night stopover after Mývatn’s flies ran us out of town the night before. Fabrice and I had no plans except to make new friends again since the group we met the night before had split up and left town—Canada and England were traveling south and France, Germany, and Wales were traveling to the northwest fjords. We had a great experience hanging out with them so we were craving more interactions just like it. Good times with new people can be rather addicting!
Having missed out on the hot springs in Mývatn, we decided to go to the Akureyri public pools. While these were not exactly natural hot springs, they were a welcomed alternative to dealing with the flies! On the way to the pool, we got to witness a bit of the charm of Akureyri. Small parks and cute shops lined the streets.
I watched Carolina trot away from the car toward the bus stop in Höfn. It was early in the morning and we had just said our goodbyes. I was excited to learn that one of her stops on her 10-month journey will be New Zealand—one of my main destinations. Perhaps we’ll see each other in a few months on the other side of the world.
Fabrice and I got back to Route 1 to continue our drive around the Ring Road. Today we would have to travel the most distance in one day: 360 km to Lake Mývatn. I had heard there were amazing natural hot springs there—less expensive and less touristy than the famous Blue Lagoon near Reykjavik.
On the dashboard, Earl was propped up next to Fabrice’s phone blaring music from The Nationals. My cheeks felt warm as I squinted out the front windshield at the dark fields spotted with greenish-yellow plants. In the distance we could see Vatnajökull, Iceland’s largest glacier at 8300 square kilometers, emerging from behind craggy mountains in the foreground. As we got closer, we saw many tour buses pulling off the Ring Road to the left. It looked like something to check out.
At Skaftafell, tourists can purchase guided tours of the Vatnajökull glacier and surrounding park area. Many locals told us that walking on the glacier on your own during or surrounding the summer months is never something Icelanders risk—only tourists who do not know the dangers of falling through the ice, never to be seen again. Guides are absolutely necessary and increase your safety significantly, but instead we opted to do an off-glacier, self-guided hike along the Gönguleiðer trails. Up the mountain 30-45 minutes would take us to see another waterfall—Svartifoss. A morning hike sounded good to us all even though we had already seen spectacular falls the day before. Grabbing water and a few snacks, we headed in the direction of the trailhead.
I laid in my top bunk under a hand-woven blanket watching the sunlight trickle in through the far window. I smiled to myself as I heard the light ba-ah-ah-ing of sheep in the distance mixed with the faint breathing of my two new friends laying in the bunks next to me. We had all stayed together in the same room the night before even though we could have each had our own room in the place. I had chosen the room on the east side strategically so the sunlight would warm me up in the morning. What I did not anticipate was the emotional warmth I would feel when Carolina and Fabrice decided to stay in the room with me. We were becoming fast friends, and now it was like we were children away at camp together.
The day before we began our Ring Road trip by detouring around the Golden Circle. Today we planned to get back on Route 1 to see some waterfalls before reaching Vik for the night. Today was also the day that I was to learn how to drive manual—finally! I had always wanted to learn. Most cars for rent (especially the less expensive ones) are manual in Iceland. So with Fabrice and Carolina as my teachers and nobody around on these country back roads, this was my opportunity.
On Thursday, September 4, I met Fabrice (Quebec) at the Egilsborg guesthouse. We were handed over the keys to a white Toyota Aygo for just $60 a day. We picked up Carolina (northern Sweden) from Einar's place in Breiðholt and set out on Route 1 to go counterclockwise around the Ring Road (Route 1). We decided to take an initial detour along the Golden Circle first. This path would take us to many special sites and wonders despite having to go slightly out of the way of Route 1.
Every kilometer there was something new and beautiful to look upon. Thew constant spectacular views made the decision to stop and take a picture of what and when very difficult. What a dilemma, right? The first time we stopped the car to take pictures was when we first emerged from Rekjavik. Outside the city, the land suddenly stretched out to reach mountains surrounding us. Fields were dotted with cute homes, churches, farm houses, and animals (sheep, horses, etc.). We were instantly awe struck and had to stop the car by a little bridge just to stand outside the car and take it all in. Little did we know, this was only the beginning of what we were about to see over the following days.
I squinted into the morning sun and watched puffy clouds float by outside the plane window. My insides leapt as the clouds parted revealing Iceland: a treeless green mass jutting into the sparkling sea. The pilot switched from speaking Norwegian to English announcing our descent into Keflavik International Airport in Reykjavik.
After landing, I fastened my backpack buckles around my waist and raised my chin ready for whatever adventures laid ahead. I grabbed a local SIM card at the airport Duty Free, bought a bus ticket, and headed outside to the bus stop. A young Icelandic Excursions bus driver wearing reflective aviators took my bag and told me he could drop me at the Mjódd station. We shared an exchange over our matching sunglasses as I boarded. I said, “Nice sunglasses!” He laughed, “You, too!”
Before departing for my Year of Deviation trip, I hiked and camped in the Catskill Mountains in upstate New York with four friends from New York City. This weekend trip was the perfect experience to have right before leaving my home country for a year. I am sitting here writing this story in Reykjavik, Iceland, my first Year of Deviation stop. Many adventures await, I am sure of it. But I am still in awe of what we encountered in the Catskills, proving that some adventures can be found in the places we take for granted the most—our own back yards.
Nestled deep in the forest off the main highway surrounded by the Catskill mountains, Woodland Valley campground is run by New York State Parks. Like an outdoor hotel, reservations are needed and made online where you can choose which designated campsite you want to reserve on the grounds. We arrived shortly after check-in at noon.
When I looked out over Portland at Council Crest, the craggy, snowcapped Mt. Hood beckoned. That mountain felt to me like my ticket to an adventure—and I was right but in a most unexpected way. I booked a 24-hour car rental with my friend so we could drive to the Mt. Hood Adventure Park at SkiBowl in Government Camp, Oregon. Just an hour and a half outside of Portland, the park offers a series of activities: zip-lining, hiking tours, bungee jumping, horseback riding, and more. I figured it'd be a good place to find some fun. Once we arrived, we decided to do a water-related activity. I had my sights on stand-up paddle boarding but it was the day after July 4th. "Sorry, SUPs have been booked for weeks," the apologetic SkiBowl employee told us. She handed us their book of activities to flip through to find something else. White water rafting caught our attention.
I like beautiful scenery and a taste of adventure. So here are my top 5 outdoor experiences from my trip to Portland, Oregon this summer.
Forest Park is not the kind of place for an inexperienced hiker. We came prepared with water and snacks because if you don't know where you're going you can easily get lost there. Forest Park is big. Really big. And even though we saw stray locals wandering through, there were long stretches of time when we were completely alone. You can feel totally disconnected from the city and avenues below in there and not know which trail will take you out or turn you deeper into the woods. At times, our hike felt a bit like the hobbit and the dwarves' trek through Mirkwood.
