Mount Taranaki looms majestically over New Plymouth, on the west coast of New Zealand’s North Island. The mythical mountain that is obscured from view most days of the year, shrouded by its own low-hanging clouds. But now it stood there, clearly visible, and beckoning in all its glory. I literally skidded to a halt when I saw it, and changed my course and planning there & then. It was calling me and I had to go.
I was drawn to the islands of Vestmannaeyjar at first sight. I saw their mysterious shapes on the horizon, and it was as if there’s an unexplained energy emanating out of it. I just had to go there. The landscape is incredibly beautiful, and that yearly Þjóðhátíð festival they have in August – in one word: geWELDIG!
De Vestmannaeyjar eilanden trokken me aan vanaf het eerste gezicht. Ik zag hun mysterieuze silhouetten en het was alsof er een onverklaarbare energie uit opborrelde. Ik moest er gewoon heen. Het landschap is niet van deze wereld, en dat jaarlijkse Þjóðhátíð festival dat ze in augustus hebben – in één woord: geWELDIG!
I didn’t know what to expect of Iceland on my first visit. It was a short trip to see a concert of Sigur Rós. Little did I expect to be blown away in more ways than one. I got lost in some of the most beautiful landscapes I’ve ever seen, full of steaming fields and craggy mountains with countless waterfalls tumbling from their hallucinating green edges. It would trigger many more trips to come.