In a land defined by otherworldly, unpeopled spaces, and the isolation of islanders — it makes no sense to explore here en mass. In this episode, Native Traveler shows you the Iceland of Icelanders.
(Start: Feature; Interview with Mike Poppe of Trufflepig — 7:30; Interview with Wake Up Reykjavik — 20:00)
If you think North Atlantic gales and cottage getaways are an odd pairing, well, you're not alone. But you'd be wrong. The Danish way is full of such seeming contradictions. Come along on this enigmatic North Atlantic road trip.
Ah, those inscrutable Danes—bold yet reserved, stylish yet unaffected, pragmatic yet mysterious in a steely Nordic way. Even their most cherished of holiday regions feels infused with bits of contradiction. The Jutland Peninsula is in many ways Danish cottage country, but it’s also a window to the sort of oblique Danish sensibility. Our road trip exploring this ethereal North Atlantic strand began in Billund—the hometown of LEGO. It was a few years ago now, but here’s the story of that journey.
Today we explore the soulful Balearic Isle of Mallorca, Spain—its rich, multi-layered culture and its draw as home to cycling's inner sanctum. In many ways, this show is also an ode to MAMILs (middle-aged men in Lyrca). Sometimes misunderstood by their non-road riding partners (ok, maybe that was just me)—their experience (and mine) tackling some of their most epic rides around the world reveals, with epiphanic clarity, why they keep climbing onto that hard narrow little saddle. Push off and clip in, this is a good one.
Pelotons of cyclists emerge this time of year, small streams at first, and then as the weather warms, in far greater numbers. A sure sign of spring. They stream along exurban back roads across Canada. It’s no longer just a European thing. Each weekend, my husband Tim is among them and has been for years, long before it was de rigueur. Yes, I am married to a MAMIL—a middle-aged man in lycra.
Some call road riding the new golf for networking and dealmaking among the business elite and those who want to be. Easier on joints but the type of sport where mental toughness is critical. It’s also perfect for ageing athletes who enjoy kicking butts of those decades younger. Others ride to raise money for worthy causes. To be sure, the vast majority of hardcore road riders are male—not the toodler from vineyard to vineyard like me—I’m talking the “where’s that 19% grade so I can feel the burn” type of rider. This is by far and away a guy thing.
Tim tries to explain it to me. “It gets me outside. My body moving. I feel connected. It’s even kind of a spiritual thing," he says.
Ok, this notion of connecting with one’s higher self on two wheels made me curious. If you could road ride anywhere in the world, where would you go? And what life lessons, what epiphanies, might emerge? With lycra and pedals packed, I agreed to set off on a road rider’s odyssey to learn more about these MAMIL creatures and their bucket list of epic rides.
Here we celebrate ice out on the lacework of lakes and waterways across Canada, but specifically that of Algonquin park—Canada’s oldest provincial park three hours northwest of Toronto. We talk lost canoe routes and tripping techniques. We take a look at one of Ontario's most beloved wilderness lodges. First, though, we mark the 100th anniversary of the death of a Canadian art icon, Tom Thomson, in Algonquin Park and the making of a Canadian legend.
When was the last time you heard nothing? This week we explore wild silence—the most extraordinary places for travelers to find it, why we need it, and how we can enjoy it while being pampered with the ultimate in creature comforts. Shhhhhh and listen below.
The Dordogne feels eternal. We marvel at landmarks reaching back to pre-history, bucolic landscapes and unhurried traditions that defy a trend-driven hyper-wired world. Its beauty and history aside, I think the sheer endurance of a Deep France way of life here restores us, and, more recently, reassures us that perhaps these wonky times too shall pass.
The transformation from outsider to denizen within any foreign land can be gradual, sometimes hard-won. Certainly, embedding in the fascinating, unfamiliar culture of South Korea is no exception. Our very own Segment Producer Lindsay McEwen walks us through her subtle yet profound metamorphosis over three years teaching English as a second language in Seoul. This lovely feature kicks off Native Traveler's full hour exploring South Korea—just in time to inspire those contemplating a visit to the 2018 Winter Olympic in Pyeongchang. 즐기세요 (enjoy)!
My 85-year-old mother’s slumbering inhalations sound like a slow, breathy metronome. In the next seat, my son Mack looks on in genuine, 11-year-old wonder about ten inches from her open mouth. Despite the crush and chatter of passengers settling in for this flight to Dublin, Mom has fallen deeply, blissfully asleep just minutes since our boarding.
My husband Tim exhales with exasperation, standing with bag in hand and peering into the already packed overhead bin. I know the feeling, but not about carry-on.
There is no sugar coating this. Transporting five people with birthdates spanning seven decades across the Atlantic, then squeezing them into a mid-sized Renault hatchback to drive 650 kilometres of remote northern Irish coastline on some ancestry scavenger hunt—well, it’s one big, messy ordeal. Still, if there’s such a thing as shared genetic memory, the idea of our three generations summoning it together just seemed important. And with every sip of my un-chilled airline chardonnay, I’m feeling more hopeful it is.
