Dozens of local and international volunteers transformed a plaza in the Mexican town of San Miguel de Allende into a festive world of skulls and color, with mojiganga painting, 3D pen crafts, a virtual reality stall, juggling, games, and storytelling.

Many festival goers’ costumes looked delightfully spooky in celebration of Dia de los Muertos.

While the town hosts numerous Day of the Dead events each year, most are geared toward adults. A group of Mexican and international friends wanted to create something just for children: a free festival called “Vivos y Muertos” that allowed young people to celebrate this important cultural tradition in their own way.

One of the organizers, Tina Bueche from the United States, had lived in San Miguel de Allende for nine years.

“Dia de los Muertos is a day to remember your history, a day to honor your ancestors,” she said. “It is a way to build bridges from the past to the present, so you can move forward without sacrificing the important values of this beautiful culture.”

Ms. Bueche paid for much of the equipment, toys, and craft supplies, and said the festival was her way of giving back to the local community she loved.

“It beats shopping for stuff I don’t need,” she said.

Playgrounds and kid-focused activities are limited in the area, and the festival drew many families, with children excited to play, craft, and have their faces painted by volunteers.

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The Dia de los Muertos festival was held on October 28, 2018. The camera used was a Panasonic G85 with 12-60mm kit lens.

Pictures from several days of course marking the Hardrock 100 Mile Endurance Run in the Rocky Mountains, Colorado.

The photos show sections of Green Mountain/Buffalo Boy Ridge, Handies Peak, Oh! Point to Ouray, the climb to Virginius Pass, Grant-Swamp Pass and Island Lake.

Hardrock is held every year in July, starting from the town of Silverton. The average elevation of the course is 11,000 feet, and runners ascent and descent some 66,000 feet in total. The maximum time allowed to complete the race is 48 hours.

The race is only officially done when a finisher kisses the Hardrock, a rock with the picture of a mountain ram.

Braving raging rivers, thunder storms and giant snow lopes, Robert Manning is thru hiking his way home from the Mexican border to Canada on the Continental Divide Trail – a journey of 3,100 miles (nearly 5,000 km) through the states of New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho and Montana.

Some mornings are so cold that he wakes up to frozen socks and has to warm them up with a brisk hike.

“You’re sitting on a rock on a ridge top and looking back over this huge vista and realising you just walked across the whole thing, how grandiose it is. But the main memory stickers are the terrifying moments that you just somehow managed to get through,” says the adventurer.

The general mantra for thru hiking the CDT is to embrace the brutality.

“I’m starting to understand what they mean.”

Robert says that for about eight hours a day he feels nice and warm in his tent, another eight hours a day he is somewhere fun, and the remaining eight hours are spent stuck in a situation he’s trying to get out of.

“Hip deep in a snow bank, or thunderstorms chasing you around, but it all passes and it’s a fun story to tell.”

Being so far away from the daily bustle and focused solely on the weather, trail safety, the next river crossing  or ascent brings things down to the essentials for him.

“It’s kind of like an analogy to packing. First you pack all this stuff and a month in you realise 90 per cent of it you don’t need […], so the mind set it similar and you realise what matters and doesn’t really matter.”

“Also your mind just wanders and you think all these crazy thoughts as you’re tracking through the bush and you get the universe all figured out, and the next day you forget what you thought,” he laughs.

Having been a forest fire fighter for 17 years and holding a commercial pilot license, Robert has solid outdoors and map reading skills and knows how to deal with dicey situations.

However, he doesn’t carry an emergency beacon and his family only knows he’s made it through the next stretch when he gets to a town and can update his facebook page with pictures and stories of the days past.

Despite the remoteness of the trail, though, hikers do meet each other frequently as there’s only a limited time corridor this trail can be done in.

“There’s only been a few days where I’ve been hiking entirely on my own.”

As he comes through Leadville, CO, he has completed about 1,300 miles of his epic adventure and is down to one set of clothes with various layers.

“I just wear the same thing everyday, which is great freedom. I don’t have to choose anything.”

The one set includes his cycling shorts that co-function as underwear.

Robert reckons river crossings double up as underwear washing days when thru hiking.

I think he made that part up because I don’t remember a wall of funk greeting me when we met, but then again, he had probably already showered and washed his clothes by then – wearing only his rain coat so that everything else could go in the washer.

Having only one set of clothes helps keep the weight down. Starting out with a big pack and gear for all sorts of eventualities, Robert says he soon sent parcels to his sister, realising he had completely overpacked.

“I had a knee brace in there, which, if I needed a knee brace, I wouldn’t be able to be on the trail.”

Gaining experience as he went, he improved his planning skills to the degree that he can now largely avoid emergencies.

“Instead of packing for emergencies, you just preplan and avoid emergencies, which is probably one of the best things to keep the weight down.”

His pack is now down to 20 pounds, excluding food and water.

And despite all the challenges, Robert is keen to extend his time on the trail. Having bought an orchard in Canada, he has time to hike while the trees grow and is moving faster than planned, giving him extra room to play.

The CDT runs to the Glacier National Park on the US border with Canada, but his true goal is a Canadian mountain his parents used to take him to as a kid.

“They are both teachers, so they had the summers off and they’d stick us all in a van […] and bring us out to the mountains for a month.”

Mt. Assiniboine is another few hundred miles of thru hiking along the Canadian Great Divide Trail, and trekking out to that mountain means more to Robert than just ending his journey at the Canadian border.

“I can’t wait to get there and see it again. Even in the crappy times, that’s what I think about is getting back there.”

“There is a neat little waterfall that comes off one of the adjacent mountains into a pool and there are always these little trout in the pool and I can always catch them. So that’s where I’m going, to catch those little trout.”

Mt Ngauruhoe, or Mt Doom

The Red Crater on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing

Climbing Mt Ngauruhoe

Mt Ngauruhoe crater

Tongariro Alpine Crossing

Often called one of the world’s most beautiful one-day hikes, the Tongariro Crossing on New Zealand’s North Island is nothing short of spectacular.

Starting at Mangatepopo car park, the nearly 20k route takes you through an active volcanic area and past stunning alpine lakes.

The Tongariro National Park is New Zealand’s oldest national park and is World Heritage listed. The country’s indigenous people gifted it to the New Zealand government in 1887.

And if you are a Lord of the Rings fan like me, you will be especially excited to set foot on this trail.

The cone-shaped mountain on your right once you’ve tackled the first climb is no other than Mt. Doom!

Its real name is Mt. Ngauruhoe. It’s a tough climb up to 2287m, but the views from above can be spectacular on a clear day.

To avoid the scree and sand slope where rocks are easily kicked loose, it is best to keep left and hike up the rocky ridge.

In late 2015, a tumbling rock on the scree slope injured someone badly enough to see him into hospital.

The other summit you can include during the Tongariro Crossing is Mt. Tongariro at 1967m, which gives you a great view of the imposing cone of Mt. Ngauruhoe from some distance.

I did both peaks on this trek and it took around 8 hours all up. However, I was hiking fast and run ultramarathons, so only attempt that if you’re sure you are fit enough or have late return transportation organized. You don’t want to miss the bus.

The usual recommended time is around 7 hours without the peaks.

Not far from the start, after a good climb, there is also the opportunity to fill up on drinking water from a clean spring. Always make sure to take enough water, as it can get hot. Three liters are recommended.

Sunscreen and lip balm is another thing to be very generous with, as even on a cloudy day, UV rays are fierce in this area and altitude. I used lip balm with SPF but didn’t reapply and ended up with a spectacular sunburn, on my mouth. Ugh!

After the turnoffs to Mt. Ngauruhoe and Mt. Tongariro, you’ll head down toward several intensely colored Alpine lakes where’re you’ll pick up a whiff of sulphur. It’s nearly all downhill from there.

On your way toward the plain and Ketetahi car park, you will pass the Te Maari craters, which erupted in 2012 for the first time since 1897.

There are some regions where you may be asked to move quickly to minimize any danger in case there is sudden volcanic activity.

HOW TO GET TO THE TONGARIRO CROSSING

To do the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, you can book a bus from either Turangi, National Park or Lake Taupo to drop you off and pick you up at the end of the hike. Most hostels and hotels arrange shuttles or you can book online googling ‘Tongariro Crossing shuttle’.

Alternatively, you can also leave your car at one car park and book a bus to get you to the other one before or after the hike.

From Turingi, drop off and pick up cost about NZD40 to NZD 45. Doing an out-and-back to your parked car is another option.

No matter what you choose, make sure to check the weather and potential warnings about volcanic activity. And if all is clear, enjoy this gorgeous trek – you’ll never forget it.

The Australian Lyrebird has the unique ability to perfectly imitate the songs of other birds as well as human sounds, including mobile phones or camera shutters.

Personally, I think I hear some video game sounds as well.

How many different bird songs can you identify?

50 Shades of Green – or so it looked as the sunlight fell through leaves and ferns. But I wasn’t exactly bounding along with 7.2 kilos on my back and every step hurting after an intense speed session two days earlier.

I had gotten up early to jog the three kilometres from Katoomba to the start of the 45 kilometre Six Foot Track before it got hot, planning to do the track twice over two days.

While I had booked accommodation at Jenolan Caves and only carried a change of running gear, toothbrush and light merino clothes to sleep in, I also had a stash of emergency gear with me including a police supplied emergency beacon, compression bandages, whistle, map, emergency blanket and two torches.

Including four litres of water, trail food and 6 slices of home-made banana bread, my running pack was filled to the brim.

From Explorers Tree at the start of the Six Foot, the trail led down hundreds of steps, over rocks and tree roots through Nellies Glen rainforest and ended in a fire trail in Megalong Valley.

Temperatures were forecast to reach 29C but it wasn’t hot yet. Sometimes I was surrounded by clouds of tiny blue butterflies, then admired crickets and caterpillars or saw wallabies and kangaroos bound out of the way ahead of me.

I took it slowly. This was not racing, this was time on my feet. I walked when I felt like it, ran when I wanted to, sat down to have lunch on a hill and just loved spending a beautiful day in the mountains.

Wet Feet

After several kilometres on a single track through the woods following Coxs River, it was time to cross.

I had always thought that wet feet lead to blisters and normally avoided creeks, but in hot weather like this, the cold feeling on my legs was blissful.

Wading through, the water came up to mid thigh-level and a large fish shot off in front of me. I wouldn’t have minded staying longer.

Following a well-maintained fire trail, I made my way up two steep climbs and then followed the track through the woods, again surrounding by the most stunning colours as the light played between the leafs.

The hours flowed by and a few kilometres from Jenolan, the narrow trail looked so peaceful in the evening light that I no longer felt like running, even though it was all downhill.

The heat had dissipated and there was a slight breeze in the warm air, the soft light of the late afternoon sun gleamed through the trees and lit the track with dancing patches of light.

Bellbirds filled the forest with their calls and a couple of wallabies watched me pass but didn’t move. In ten hours, I’d only twice passed hikers, once a group of trail bike riders and trice some cars.

The slow speed had paid off. Instead of feeling sorer, the pain in my hamstrings was gone.

Making my way into the valley towards the Jenolan Caves village, I saw Caves House and the backpacker lodge through the surrounding trees – my home for the night.

The Jenolan Caves are limestone caves estimated to be the world’s most ancient open cave system dating back to around 340 million years ago.

I love visiting them, but right now, I could only think of the breakfast menu I’d studied online – I was already looking forward to the morning.

The Bat

As I checked into the hostel, I was told I had the room to myself – but not so. A bat already occupied the upper bunk.

I’d seen it flying in the hallway and had unsuccessfully tried to direct it outside. Then, suddenly, it was gone.

Inside my room, the bat greeted me in bed. The tiny animal had crawled through the gap under my door and now it sat on one of the pillows, partly covered in cobwebs.

I felt honoured to have such a room mate, but didn’t liked the idea of it potentially wanting to cuddle at night, so I wrapped it in a bed sheet to carry outside.

The bat complained with loud squeaks and, worried I was hurting it, I opened the sheet to look inside. Out came the bat in a flash and once again fluttered in the hallway. I finally caught it once more and released it under a bush.

After a good-night’s sleep, I thought I’d better make the most of the breakfast buffet to strengthen myself for the long way back.

Only when I tried to stand up after a large pile of scrambled eggs, baked beans, toast, croissant and a heaped bowl of musli, I realized I had completely overdone it.

Being upright was so uncomfortable that I went straight back to bed. When I finally got going at close to 10am, I was still so full that every time I tried to run, my stomach just wouldn’t have it. So I walked very slowly for the next three hours.

Could I have known better than stuffing my face until I couldn’t move? Of course, I’ve done several ultras, marathons and many long training runs. But I hadn’t wanted to know better, I’d wanted to have a giant breakfast.

Gluttony comes before the walk. I was well prepared for a late arrival with two flashlights and spare batteries.

Lyrebird Chase

As I came up the narrow serpentine walkway from Caves house, a lyrebird saw me approaching and fled around the bent. There weren’t many places to go on either side, so every time I came around another bent, the lyrebird was still ahead.

We played catch for a while until the path opened up and the lyrebird could have taken the wider walking track ahead. But instead, it chose to take the stairs following the Six Foot Track, looking back at me from the top.

When it AGAIN saw me taking the same direction, it flapped its wings in protest. On spotting me one final time as I reached the top of the stairs, it had enough and made a scene, fluttering towards a lyrebird mate down the hill.

I could only imagine its complaint: This woman has been following me all the way from Caves House! She’s not leaving me alone!

A few kilometres down the track, I came across an echidna that was busily looking through leaves and twigs.

Curling up at first, it soon stopped worrying about me and starting roving through the undergrowth again, coming up to just a few centimetres from my trainers. They mustn’t have smelled so good, as it then turned around and walked off into the forest.

The Thunderstorm

As the day went on, I heard rumbling behind me. While the sky got darker, I could still see a stretch of blue ahead and picked up my speed.

A storm had been forecast, but perhaps I could get away! I imaged the weather chasing me, as it seemed to rumble behind me every time I was particularly slow.

The first front moved past quickly, but the storm couldn’t quite decide what to do that day. An hour later, it was back, this time with a bang.

The sky turned black and it looked like late evening instead of mid afternoon. It started to bucket down, lighting flashed above me and I anxiously counted the time to the sound of thunder to see how close it was.

What would it be like to be hit my lightening? I probably wouldn’t notice, it would happen so quickly. I was happy whenever I made it over a bare hill unscathed.

Already on edge, I jumped when a bellbird rang out right next to me and then laughed about how easily I had worked myself into a fearful state.

I just hoped it would be over by the time I had to cross Coxs river. I didn’t want to stand in thigh-high water when lightening was close by.

Finally, patches of blue sky returned as the dark clouds rushed off. I crossed the river and munched the rest of my banana bread as I trotted through the forest.

Soon, I could see the cliff faces of some mountains ahead – a view that always stuns me. Somewhere on top of those mountains was Katoomba.

The Long Way Home

As I was hopping from stone to stone over a shallow creek, a strange feeling suddenly overcame me. I remembered coming this way yesterday. But yesterday seemed incredibly long ago.

Two days away from mobile and computer screens while being immersed in the Blue Mountains had stretched my perception of time to such a degree that I could hardly believe that as little as one weekend had passed.

By the time I was making my way up the steep section of Nellies Glen it was completely dark. A light drizzle had returned, but the headlamp gave plenty of light and the air was still warm.

I had told police that I would return late, but once I reached the top of the climb, an officer called my phone to check that I was alright in the dark.

This service Katoomba police offers to hikers has always impressed me. When borrowing a free emergency beacon for a hike, which is strongly recommended as most trails in this area have no reception, police keep information about the intended route and expected time of return. If they are worried about someone’s safety, they call.

I assured them I was fine and I ran the last three kilometres into town to drop off the beacon before treating myself to a warm dinner at a nearby restaurant that tolerates guests in runners’ clothes.

I had been out on the trail for 22 hours over two days.

When I closed my eyes to sleep that night, my whole body was buzzing with a sense of aliveness, and I felt complete contentment and peace of mind.

People who, like me, work on computer screens all day sometimes ask me “why do you do that to yourself” when I talk about trail running. I do it because I like feeling this alive, I say.

Heading to the Blue Mountains in New South Wales, Australia? Good choice – it’s hiking and trail running paradise. Here are some of the views you can expect to see.

Races in this area include the Six Foot Track Marathon (March) and the UltraTrail Australia (May).  Both start in or near Katoomba.

The Milford Track is a stunning 53 km walking track through rainforest and mountainous terrain on New Zealand’s South Island, ending with a ferry ride to scenic Milford Sound.

The daily distance is very manageable as it is divided over four days, with plenty of time to rest, swim in natural pools, and enjoy the truly spectacular views.

I had the extraordinary luck to enjoy four days of clear skies and sunshine on this track that winds its way through one of the world’s wettest inhabited regions. I wouldn’t count on the weather gods though, so make sure to pack your rain gear to stay comfortable.

In addition to stunning scenery, you can be sure to also meet the local wildlife when hiking the Milford Track. New Zealand’s South Island is home to the world’s only alpine parrot – the Kea.

These clever and colorful birds are known as the clowns of the mountains and are a pleasure to watch. They are not shy and their curiosity means that they will eye all your belongings with great interest. But be careful, Keas are always keen to take a nice pair of boots apart, or spirit away any clothes you are trying to dry, so it is wise to keep all belongings secured or indoors overnight.

How to book the Milford Track

During the October to April summer season, booking all three huts together is compulsory and due to the track’s popularity, reservations are best made online as soon as bookings open in June or July. Camping is not permitted.   Huts can be booked online.

The huts come with a kitchen that has gas stoves, simple bunk beds and wash basins but no showers, and each night costs NZD 70 for NZ residents and NZD 140 for international visitors for the 2018/19 high season.

This may seem a bit steep in view of the simplicity of the accommodation, but keep in mind that funds are used to support the country’s national parks and that the cost drops drastically during winter, when nights are only NZD 15.

Keep in mind that hiking the trail in winter requires solid outdoors experience as well as good gear and supplies, as gas and running water will be turned off in the huts and there will be no rangers on site to assist.

I did the track in summer and found the huts comfortable enough. There are also  flashier and more expensive options but those have to booked as a whole tour through external providers.

For more information about the Milford Track visit the Department of Conservation.