When it comes to the beauty and diversity of the surrounding landscape, not many rivers in the United States can compete with the Arkansas River. At 1,469 miles, it’s the sixth-longest river in the United States, flowing eastward from Colorado through Kansas and Oklahoma before finally emptying into the mighty Mississippi River in Arkansas. The first stretch is clearly the most spectacular section: From its source high up in the rugged Sawatch Range of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, “The Arkansas” is a raging stream of crystal-clear snowmelt water, cascading downhill and thundering through awe-inspiring canyons, dropping more than 10,000 feet in elevation on the first 125 miles. It’s no surprise that this part of the river has become America’s favorite destination for rafting and a fly-fishing Shangri-La to catch some of the many legendary trout cruising through the eddies of the run-off.

The most popular accessible area is the stunning 57-mile stretch between Canon City and Salida in Colorado, where the river winds through deep canyons and runs parallel to U.S. Route 50. During spring, summer and early fall, this area sees a fair number of visitors, but for me, the true magic happens here in winter, when surprisingly very few people venture along the shoreline. As soon as the temperature sinks below the freezing mark, the Arkansas River changes dramatically. Due to extremely cold nights at 7,000 feet elevation and the low sun that’s unable to penetrate the shaded bends in the canyon, ice starts forming on the river in November, and by mid-winter, huge ice floes drift downstream, making the Arkansas look like the Yukon River.

During a bitter-cold December hike along the headwaters near the village of Cotopaxi, I noticed that ice had formed around boulders that were peeking out of the fast-flowing river. Shimmering, alluring. Naturally, I was intrigued, but from my viewpoint—eye level with the river—I couldn’t see any details or shapes. The only way to get an idea of what the ice formations would look like was from above. Luckily, I had packed my drone, but flying a drone under the conditions at hand was risky business. I knew I’d have to position the drone in turbulent wind directly over the water, hoping to avoid ice buildup on the propellers from moisture evaporating off the river and potentially forcing the drone to crash and vanish in a liquid grave. I also had to be quick since the cold would drain the batteries very fast.

I carefully flew the drone up and then slowly moved the aircraft directly over the river. Hovering at 37.7 feet, I swiveled the gimbal with the camera to 90 degrees down toward the river, and I was totally floored. Every big rock sticking out of the water had bizarre attachments of ice trailing behind it—fantasy creations resembling giant bacteria, spaceships or alien lifeforms shaped by the swift current. Some of these frozen pieces of art were up to 30 feet long, the ice glowing in the water in iridescent green and turquoise colors. Without the point of view made possible by the drone, I would not have been able to experience these incredible hidden artworks of nature. 

See more of Christoph Stopka’s work at christophstopka.com.

DJI Mavic Air 2. Exposure: 1/300 sec., ƒ/2.8, ISO 100.

The post Behind The Shot: Alien Ice appeared first on Outdoor Photographer.

When I left you last, I was facing a clear dilemma.

After nine months spent basing myself in Melbourne, it was finally time for me to leave Australia. Without a home to return to, however, that meant that it was time to travel again. And with Omicron charging its way around the world, Dave and I found ourselves with quite the predicament on our hands.

Pre-pandemic, we would have had so many options to choose from: island-hopping in the South Pacific! Several months in India! Hiking in New Zealand! A California road trip! A multi-month adventure in Central America! I’d have been so excited by the prospect of heading out into the world again.

As you know, the reality is quite different.

With many countries closing their borders, experiencing soaring case numbers, and bringing in lockdowns, the mere thought of travel left me concerned. And confused. Entry requirements sounded onerous (if you’d like an insight into how sheltered I’ve been from the pandemic so far: I’ve never had a PCR test), reports of mandatory quarantine camps were unsettling, and the countries I most wanted to travel to had a habit of closing their borders within minutes of me buying flights.

Just how enjoyable is travel even going to be at this time? There’s a reason why running this site has been draining my savings for two years and it’s because hardly anybody is travelling internationally right now. Because travel is nothing like it used to be (presumably).

First things first: I needed to get my third vaccine dose. I didn’t want to leave Australia without the maximum protection possible, so that was one of the first things on my agenda for the month.

I received my second dose of Pfizer back in October, so once I hit the three-month mark, I ventured over to the Royal Exhibition Building here in Melbourne and spent a sunny two hours queueing for my jab.

I was given a choice of Pfizer or Moderna, actually, so I went with Moderna to mix things up. As always: very few side effects; the main one being an enormous serving of relief.

With that task out of the way, it was time for Dave and I sit down and make a huge decision.

In my previous monthly summary, I revealed that I was torn between travelling to one of two appealing options. To quote from that article:

Top of our list right now is Mexico. We love Mexico and have wanted to return for years. We could spend our time on the beaches, living outdoors in these pandemic times, downing every margarita and devouring every taco that crossed our path. The main downside is that it would require 28 hours of travel to get there — would it be worth the hassle and stress? On top of that, there are reports that Mexico is currently cracking down on long-term travellers; some people are now being given a seven-day visa at the border! What would Dave and I do if that happened to us? 

There’s one other destination that’s at the top of our list: Cyprus! It makes a lot of sense for me and Dave. Firstly, we’re planning on spending our summer in Europe. And this pesky little thing named Brexit means that I’m now subject to the rules of the Schengen Zone. Cyprus is not part of the Schengen Zone, so wouldn’t eat into our allowed 90 days in the EU. Cyprus has warm, balmy weather year-round, so we wouldn’t need to worry about being too cold. And it’s cheap! It offers up good hiking, delicious food, and beaches and ruins galore! The downside is, as with Mexico, it’d take 28-odd hours to get there.

Beyond that, we don’t have too many other options. Thailand and Indonesia are running mandatory hotel quarantine, which I don’t want to go through again. Singapore, Malaysia, Vietnam, and Taiwan have closed off to tourists. Cambodia is letting tourists in, but only on a 30-day visa. The South Pacific islands are mostly closed to tourism or only issuing 30-day visas. Other non-Schengen countries in Europe would be too chilly in January/February. I don’t fancy hitting up the U.S. right now.

I turned the question around to you guys and asked where you thought I should go.

Some thought I should stay in Australia longer to make the most of being in this country while international tourists can’t get in; the biggest attractions would be crowd-free! It would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see them that way. The Great Barrier Reef or Uluru with hardly anybody there? Sounds amazing!

Others recommended Mexico. Lots of you guys are heading to Mexico right now, in fact! You recommended it for the great weather, delicious food, lack of entry restrictions on travellers, and ability to spend most of my time outdoors.

And some thought Cyprus sounded like the perfect fit. In particular, you thought that the risk of being granted a seven-day visa upon arrival in Mexico was too high and wasn’t worth taking a long flight for. Others thought the chances were low: I haven’t been to Mexico since 2016, so I’m not the type of tourist they’re cracking down on. But most of all, you would love to read about what it’s like to live in Cyprus, which is predicted to soon become a digital nomad hotspot.

After deciding we wanted to leave Australia but that we couldn’t take the risk of being given a seven-day visa for Mexico, Dave and I committed to head to… Cyprus! It felt like the best decision for our particular situation. We could spend two months basing ourselves on the island before venturing into mainland Europe.

Decision made. What a relief!

Now.

I dedicated a significant part of last month’s summary to talking about how every single time I make a decision to travel somewhere, my country of choice would respond by closing its borders. It’s happened half a dozen times over the past year!

And so it felt so hilariously ridiculous to discover that days after making our decision to head to Cyprus, Europe redefined Australia as a “COVID danger zone”, which essentially meant that EU countries decided they were going to ban Australians from entering[!!!!!!!!] I couldn’t stop laughing at the news, to be honest. Deliriously laughing. At this stage, I’ve come to expect that every time I book flights, I’m going to end up cancelling them within 24 hours.

Fortunately, Cyprus, Greece, and Italy decided to stand out from the crowd and still permit people to travel there from Australia.

This time, we were going to be okay.

Like many countries around the world, Australia was hit hard by Omicron this month. After several months of holding steady at 1,000 cases a day here in the state of Victoria, numbers soared to 40,000 daily cases in early-January. At that point, Australia had more cases per capita than both the UK and the US!

(It’s not really surprising that this happened; after keeping COVID out for so long, we have basically no natural immunity here.)

But as with seemingly every Omicron wave, we peaked within two weeks, hospitalisations remained low, and as I write this now, Victoria is down to around 10,000 cases a day.

If I had to describe how I spent the first month of 2022, it would be on my feet.

I recently took steps to work on some foot pain I’ve been experiencing on multi-day hikes; one solution I’m trying is custom orthotics.

And what that means is that I needed to spend the entirety of January making sure they were a good fit. There was the breaking-in stage, where I’d walk for an hour a day for the first three days, then extend that to 90 minutes a day for the next three days. Before I knew it, I was having to walk five hours a day, every day, to see if I could replicate the pain I’ve experienced in the past.

My least favourite day was when I had to walk around a park for four hours in 35°C (95°F) heat.

With so much travel on the agenda for the entirety of 2022, I would have preferred to have spent my time working rather than walking aimlessly around Melbourne for hours and hours. Alas! I needed to do it now, as I’m leaving the country soon. If the orthotics needed an alteration, I needed to know as quickly as possible.

Overall, though, as annoying as it was, I enjoyed having an excuse to get outside, explore more of the city, and stop working so much. And so far, so good! I’m still experiencing pain when walking, but it’s nowhere near the levels of agony I used to get.

One morning, Dave joined me on a walk around our local park. It felt like a good excuse to get some trip planning done. We needed to book our flights to Cyprus and figure out a plan for our two months on the island.

Which would be the best flight to take? How would we book our pre-departure tests? What would we need to do on arrival? Was Paphos the best place to base ourselves? What would happen if we tested positive on arrival? What would our travel insurance cover us for?

We made our first circuit around the park, during which we half-heartedly came up with some ideas and suggestions. If I’m being honest, neither of us were feeling particularly enthusiastic about the trip. We knew we wanted to leave Australia and we had to go somewhere, but it all felt so complicated and stressful. A masked-up 28-hour flight, multiple layovers and airports, and three COVID tests: not very appealing.

Life had become so comfortable in Melbourne, and travel had become so difficult, so we continually found ourselves wondering: was this really the best decision for us?

“Ugh, shall we just go to Cambodia instead?” I joked, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Maybe.”

I stopped in my tracks. “What?”

“What?” Dave shook his head. “Oh, did I say that out loud? I mean, yeah, Cyprus sounds great.”

“Are you joking?” My mind was spinning. “About Cambodia?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“… But are you really?”

“I think so?”

“I mean… the flights would be shorter, right?”

“Yeah. And, um, well, we’d be in Southeast Asia.”

We continued to make our way along the trail in silence, both of our minds travelling down a thousand paths at once.

“Thailand’s restarted Test&Go,” Dave said eventually. “No more quarantine or restrictions on movements for arrivals. Just a test on day one and day five and you’re free to do anything you want in-between.”

I groaned.

“Dave. I can’t tell my readers I’m going back to Thailand. We always go to Thailand. It’s going to be like, the least shocking announcement ever.”

“We could have a month in Cambodia, then a month in Thailand. Maybe two months in Thailand?”

I shook my head. “We can’t keep changing our plans like this. I’m all over the place. First, we’re going to New Zealand. Then we were going to Thailand. Then Mexico. Then Cyprus. And now Cambodia? All in the space of a month! I’d only just come around to the idea of Cyprus. That was supposed to be the plan. And now I have to scratch that and cancel everything and…”

“We don’t have to go. I wasn’t being that serious. We’ll go to Cyprus.”

“Yeah. I think it makes the most sense.”

Much of January was spent having similar conversations, never knowing if we were making a terrible decision or should be changing our minds. Typically, when Dave and I plan a trip, it feels right and we’re convinced we’re heading to the right place at the right time.

This time around? Those feelings were noticeably absent.

My entire family caught COVID this month.

It was the strangest feeling.

My mum sent me a message warning me not to panic, then revealed my dad had just tested positive. In some respects, it wasn’t a surprise, because he’s been heading out to crowded football games for months. I’d been joking about how it was inevitable and telling friends I wouldn’t be surprised if he tested positive soon, but I don’t think I fully allowed myself to believe it. Now that it was actually happening, I suddenly felt emotionally unprepared for handling the stress of it all.

My dad was the first person in either mine or Dave’s family to catch COVID, which made it all the more unsettling. Unlike most people, we don’t know dozens upon dozens of people who have contracted it and recovered. We knew that Omicron was mild, but when it’s your parents who have it, it suddenly feels real and worrying. I contemplated worst-case scenarios and wondered if I’d be heading to London instead of Paphos.

My family, on the other hand, were blasé. Pretty much everybody they know in the U.K. has caught COVID by this stage, so they were treating it as no big deal.

And you know what? They were totally fine. The following day, my mum tested positive, and then my sister did a few hours later. They isolated together, reassuring me regularly that they really did feel fine. A mild cough, a touch of congestion, and a round of negative tests 10 days later. They’ve all had worse colds than Omicron.

“Why don’t we go to Cambodia for a month and then Cyprus for a month?” I suggested one morning, and that suddenly felt like the best of both worlds.

We messaged a friend who was currently travelling in Southeast Asia and he encouraged us to take the leap. He told us how Cambodia was free of tourists, interesting to explore right now, and reassured us that everyone was taking COVID seriously: masks are worn everywhere; Phnom Penh is the most vaccinated capital city in the world. Cases were low (30 or 40 a day; 0 deaths), entry requirements were simple (a single rapid test on arrival), and total flight time would be 11 hours from Melbourne. Imagine Angkor Wat without the crowds.

Tempting, tempting.

Dare I even say it felt right?

And yet it still took us weeks to make a final decision. To pull the trigger and buy some flights.

Every time we thought about leaving, we were filled with uncertainty. Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome, but we’ve spent so much time in Melbourne, and been through so much with the residents of this city, that we’ve built a deep connection to this place. It feels like home and it feels comfortable. We’ve created a life here, are surrounded by friends, have our favourite cafes and restaurants, and our regular walking routes.

Who would want to disrupt that?

But the clock was ticking and a decision needed to be made.

And so, Dave and I picked a country. We applied for our visas, bought our flights, and booked our first week of accommodation.

It was finally official: we were flying to Cambodia.

My Next Steps

You may have noticed I’ve stopped publishing new blog posts on Never Ending Footsteps over the past year or so. With the exception of my monthly summaries, I’ve shared close-to-nothing about either my previous or current travels. For that, I must apologise.

It was, however, a deliberate decision. A necessary decision. One made through desperation. Due to the pandemic, and a subsequent loss of income, I can’t justify publishing travel stories right now, as they just don’t make any money. (My monthly summaries, however, are non-negotiable in my eyes. I figured that was the next best thing: to still have a place where I’m sharing what I’ve been up to and where I’ve been.)

Instead, I’ve been working hard behind the scenes. I’ve been hiring a dozen staff members, re-working every post I’ve ever written, and publishing almost 200 brand new travel articles in 2021 alone. I haven’t shared any of them publicly, as they’re generic resources and mostly written by other people.

I’m hoping the time, effort, love, and money that I’ve poured into my site will soon start to pay off. Hopefully that, combined with a trip to places that excite me, will renew my inspiration and have me publishing here again: writing some posts for you guys rather than just for Google. I’ve already experienced a 40% uptick in income for January.

All that to say: tomorrow, I’m going to be publishing a blog post detailing my travel plans for the rest of the year! A new article! And because of that, I’m not going to share a detailed look of where I’m going to be going in February right now — I’ll share all of that tomorrow. But you can see the map: I’ve got tons of ideas for my time in Cambodia.

I can tell you that I’m going to be leaving Australia in less than a week. And I can tell you that I’m now in the midst of another stretch of self-isolation. I absolutely cannot test positive when I arrive in Cambodia — the quarantine facilities are appalling (and despite what the article claims, are still operating) — so I’m basically not going to see another person during the 10 days before my flight.

And then, I’ll be off.

My friends, it’s finally time for me to leave Australia.

Yes, it’s time to get my travel on.

What do you have planned for February? And what do you think about my travel announcement? Are you surprised I’m heading to Cambodia?

The post January 2022: Monthly Summary and Upcoming Travels appeared first on Never Ending Footsteps.