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A local’s guide to Seoul’s coolest neighborhood SUMMER 2018

Vintage prints from a Nashville institution

Top picks from Amsterdam, LA and London

 Explore every day 

Our favorite road trips IRELAND, ALBERTA, BOTSWANA, NORTH CAROLINA, TEXAS,

SUMMER ESCAPES TO BERLIN, CROATIA & ALASKA

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 AUSTRALIA  and more


C O N TE N T S S UM MER 2018

FEATURES

EPIC DRIVES From the Canadian Rockies to the salt pans of Botswana, we present six summer drives that you’ll never forget.

p. 62

NEW ZEALAND ROAD TRIP Take to North Island back roads in a camper van for a true kiwi experience.

A view from a helicopter ride over NYC

p. 74

NYC FROM TOP TO BOTTOM A fresh take on the Big Apple, from memorable moments at giddy heights to street-level and subterranean pursuits.

p. 85 GREAT ESCAPE

BAJA CALIFORNIA, MEXICO Head to Mexico’s Baja California peninsula for home-grown wines, encounters with marine giants, life on desert ranches and frontier history.

On the cover: Sea Cliff Bridge, New South Wales, Australia Photo by: Jonathan Stokes

Correction: In the Spring 2018 issue, the name of the photographer who shot the cover photo was misspelled. His name is Matthew Hahnel. See more of his work at instagram .com/matthewhahnel.

JOE GREER

p. 52


C O N TE N T S S UM MER 2018

EXPLORE

JOURNAL

Welcome to the Neighborhood: a local’s look at Seoul’s buzzing Hongdae district

Photo Challenge: curve

p. 14

Try Something New: four awesome longdistance hikes

p. 16

First Time vs. Been There, Done That: Paris

p. 18

How To: use Japan’s onsen baths and more

p. 22

Trip Idea: Analog San Francisco

p. 24

Road Trip: Scenic drive to Texas’s Big Bend National Park

p. 27

Meet the Maker: behind the scenes at a printer’s workshop in Nashville, Tennessee

p. 30

Well Spent: using 250 euros wisely in Berlin, and other wallet-friendly travel strategies

p. 32

Trip Idea: Philadelphia Revised

p. 34 Big Bend National Park

The Secret History Of: the Scottish kilt

p. 38

p. 40

Going Further: cycling the Himalayas

p. 42

Out of the Blue: a photographer’s trip to Morocco

p. 44

Staff Stories: Solo travel fails (and rescues)

p. 46

In Search of the Perfect: clam chowder in Boston

p. 51

Sketchbook: Thailand’s Phuket on paper

TOP PIC KS p. 96

Alaska / Road Trip Amsterdam / Three Ways Los Angeles / Cheap Eats London / Shopping

MEET A TRAVELER p. 112

Blind and partially deaf traveler Tony Giles on traveling the world solo

OLEG MOISEYENKO/GETTY IMAGES

p. 12


C O N TE N T S S UM MER 2018

CONTRIBUTORS A secluded beach in Baja California, Mexico

Kevin Slane Writer, “In Search of the Perfect Clam Chowder in Boston”

p. 46

I’ve walked the streets of Boston thousands of times, and I can free-draw the city’s subway system from memory. But walking the labyrinthine brick and cobblestone sidewalks in search of my hometown’s best clam chowder, I still found new surprises around every turn — and plenty of great chowder to boot.

Valerie Rains Writer, “NYC Top to Bottom”

p. 74

United States Alaska / 97 California / 14, 22, 105 Massachusetts / 46 New York / 74 North Carolina / 57 Philadelphia / 32 Tennessee / 27 Virginia / 57 Meet a Local Sometimes the best way to experience a city is through the eyes of a local. From Accra to Zurich, our local experts provide the latest tips and advice direct from your favorite destinations around the world. For more, turn to page 12.

Justin Foulkes Photographer, “Great Escape: Baja California, Mexico”

p. 85

I’ve traveled quite a bit through Mexico, and it’s an incredibly diverse country, but the Baja peninsula really did feel quite different. The culture, landscape and wildlife are like no other. But perhaps this unique identity is most evident in the incredible cuisine. Seldom have I eaten so well on a shoot!

JUSTIN FOULKES

DESTINATION INDEX Amsterdam / 101 Australia / 56 Botswana / 60 Canada / 54 Croatia / 58 England / 14, 107 France / 16 Germany / 30 India / 40 Ireland / 61 Japan / 20 Mexico / 18, 85 Morocco / 42 New Zealand / 62 Peru / 14 South Korea / 12 Spain / 14 Thailand / 51

One of the thrills of living in New York is the relentless pace of change: Even hyper-plugged-in locals always have something to discover, explore or experience for the first time. Reporting this story gave me a dozen new (or renewed) reasons to love my adopted hometown. (See you at Small's!)


Editor’s Note J O U R N A L TALES FROM THE ROAD

ADAM DETOUR

Go for an epic ride in the Himalayas, find the perfect clam chowder in Boston, and discover why it’s sometimes OK if travel goes terribly wrong.

Envisioning the new sections in the company of Max the cat

J O U R N A L

GOING FURTHER

High in the Himalayas

IT HAD TAKEN THREE DAYS OF CYCLING NORTH out of the capital to catch my first glimpse of snow-crested mountains and feel the cool Himalayan air. It was a welcome relief from the searing heat of the fume-choked plains, where sacred cows ruminated in the slow lane as trucks tore past. The heat of any day was matched by the warmth of my welcome. Cyclists on single-speed bone shakers would pedal alongside, smile and engage in a light-hearted race. Slamming on my brakes to avoid a wedding party one morning, I was asked to dance with the groom, then spent the afternoon as guest of honor. And a few days later, waiting in a rest stop after a particularly long ascent, I met a motorist holding out a bunch of flowers and inviting me to drink chai and talk cricket. My first destination was Shimla, the summer home of the British Empire where the government and their families would decamp to escape the heat. As I rounded a corner one day there was a rather incongruous British church, cast adrift from the age of Empire in the middle of the mountainous green of the state of Himachal Pradesh. After following the narrow-gauge train line that leads into Shimla, I was confronted with what could almost be, in places, an English market town. It’s 145 miles from there to Manikaran, where the live power cable incident put me off buses for good. By the time I had hauled my bike another 56 miles to Manali, I was taking the contours in stride and was ready for my biggest challenge yet. The Rohtang Pass on the Manali to Leh highway takes you to an elevation of 13,051 feet. Only open during the summer months, the pass separates the Kullu and Lahaul Valleys. Its name translates as “pile of corpses,” a reference to those who have lost their lives trying to cross in bad weather. But on the day I arrived, the road was packed with a convoy of tourist buses, bringing travelers from the south high into the mountains to get their first glimpse of snow. They cheerfully alighted at the roadside stalls to rent outlandish fur coats, walking poles and hats that were clearly essential to tackling isolated patches of dishwater-gray snow. Hundreds of day-trippers, looking like escapees from Narnia, threw obligatory snowballs and attempted to fashion ice and slush into snowmen and igloos. After a couple of hours’ ascent, I found the road blocked by a wall of snow, with no idea how high I was. It certainly wasn’t the top of the pass, but it was a genuinely satisfying way to end a climb. I rolled back down the hill, finally overtaking the tourist buses that were busily returning their arctic gear on the way home.

The challenge of cycling in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas is rewarded with more memorable local encounters than can be had from a seat on a bus. by MATT SWAINE

@MattSwaine

illustration by MARC MARTIN

@marcmartinillo

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT:

@petervg73

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p.

Summer 2018

Waiting in a rest stop

after a particularly long

ascent, I met a motorist

holding out a bunch of flowers and inviting me to drink chai and talk cricket.” THE DAY-TRIPPING HIGH JINKS WERE IN STARK contrast to the

spiritual aura that hangs over the hillside city of Dharamsala, home to the Dalai Lama, a few days’ ride away. Its main street is lined with large, colorful prayer wheels, and monks making their way to temple, weaving between travelers who’ve come for meditation, enlightenment and keenly priced banana pancakes. That week His Holiness would be blessing thousands of pilgrims who stood patiently in line for a moment in his presence. I joined in for the novelty of meeting a spiritual celebrity, but the warmth of his eyes genuinely moved me. I walked into the nearest barber’s and had my head shaved. It may have been a mere fashion statement, but the sensation of the wind brushing my scalp on a fast descent out of the Himalayas the following day felt truly spiritual and made the return to Delhi something of a pilgrimage.

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT:

I REALLY HAD TO ADMIRE THE BUS DRIVER: the way he greeted my horror-stricken face, which was inverted in his windshield, with such a sweet smile. Seconds earlier, my bike’s handlebars had been snared by a low-slung power line, and the bike catapulted from the bus’s roof rack. Sitting cross-legged on the roof, I watched in disbelief as my bike now dangled above a rutted mountain pass while we continued our descent into the valley. Hanging from the roof of the bus, I hammered on the windshield. “Stop … my bike!” Unfazed, the driver calmly negotiated the narrow mountain pass in reverse until he was positioned under my stranded steed. I had cycled up the road to Manikaran three days before in torrential rain and hardly noticed the prayer flags, bunting, cables and banners that were slung above the road. I was too busy trying to negotiate the landslides, wheel-sucking mud and covert man-traps masquerading as puddles. Dangling from the power line, the bike was now audibly fizzing with the threat of electrocution. “Do not worry. I have protective gloves!” the driver said as he waived a pair of latex kitchen gloves above his head. He clambered onto the roof of the bus and lifted the bike free from the cabling to a riot of applause from the passengers who had gathered to watch. I suspected that this wasn’t his first aerial rescue. I had been similarly rescued when I arrived at New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi International Airport four weeks earlier and was startled to find my bike circling the airport carousel with a buckled rear wheel, having been thrown from the aircraft with the rest of the luggage. But in Delhi’s cycle market I had met an incredible artisan who whipped off his sandals and straightened my wheels to perfection with his bare feet.

@peter_grunert

“Journal” has the subtitle “Tales From the Road.” It’s the home of storytelling in our front sections: immersive, subversive, fun, emotional and always honest. I hold a deep belief in the genius of magazines at uniting communities, offering a space for reflection, and telling simple stories with power and depth through the blend of words, illustrations and photos on a page. In “Journal,” from a caption for an entry to one of our photo challenges, to a quest for the perfect example of an iconic dish, or an adventurous yarn of a great challenge overcome, we’ll carry you along in this way through layers of vicarious travel. I’m so excited to reveal these updates, and proud of the mix of knowledge and creativity our “ team has invested in delivering them to you.

Summer 2018

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explore YOUR WORLD OF DISCOVERIES

Meet a printmaker in Nashville, experience Berlin on a budget, explore Seoul with a local, take a Texas road trip and more

TEC PETAJA

Philly Revised A historic city gets an upgrade. After being dubbed America’s first World Heritage City in 2015, Philadelphia has been sprucing up the joint with new openings and renovated spaces. This summer several long-running projects are coming to fruition and other recent developments are quickly gaining speed. Since opening last year, Royal Boucherie (royal boucherie.com) has become a new favorite under the direction of Top Chef winner and James Beard semifinalist Nicholas Elmi. Expect a blend of French and American cuisine, such as wild snails braised in champagne and

Charcuterie board at Royal Boucherie

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doused in chartreuse hazelnut butter, or the Boucherie Burger, stacked with bacon, American cheese and truffle mayo, with fries cooked in pork fat. A few blocks away, the brandnew Museum of the American Revolution ($19; amrevmuseum.org) has won acclaim for its depiction of the war from all points of view, including slaves, Native Americans and women. The Bourse (theboursephilly.com), which once housed the nation’s first

commodities exchange, will be prime sampling territory when it’s converted to a food hall and market this summer. Grab a picnic and head over to Philly’s answer to NYC’s High Line, the Rail Park (therailpark .org), which will provide three miles of elevated green space on an old rail line north of central Philly.

Where it all started

TED NGHIEM

Our art director Kristina’s pour-over coffee is a font of inspiration. She brews the most powerful coffee I’ve ever tasted: deathly dark, intensely smoked, viciously caffeinated. It’s ideal fuel for brainstorming. Over a snowy few days in January, our top editors and designers gathered in Kristina’s living room with a brief to answer these questions: How can Lonely Planet magazine do more to help its readers be the best travelers they can possibly be? And as our readers face a brain-aching array of media formats through which to feed their passion for travel, how can the publication best showcase what’s so magical and unique about magazines? Right there, amid a colorful blizzard of Post-it notes sending ideas across Kristina’s wall, our new front sections were born. We’re calling “Explore” “Your World of Discoveries.” It’s crammed with topical trip ideas, tips and cultural insights. Within this section’s pages a local will welcome you to their favorite neighborhood, an artisan will take you shopping, you’ll find a road trip mapped out, great value will be delivered for your budget, original trips – both easily accessible and boundary-pushing – will be recommended, and a secret history will be revealed (this issue: the kilt!).

Summer 2018

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Summer 2018

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explore YOUR WORLD OF DISCOVERIES

TEC PETAJA

Meet a printmaker in Nashville, experience Berlin on a budget, explore Seoul with a local, take a Texas road trip and more


HOW TO

Photograph Life in Motion Frequent Lonely Planet contributor Mark Read took this photo of a dancer in Oaxaca, Mexico. Here are his tips for getting a shot like this. ■ To capture motion, pan the camera at the same speed of the subject while using a slow shutter speed. This freezes the subject and blurs the background. ■ The slower the shutter speed, the more motion you’ll capture. In low light, drop the shutter speed down to one-thirtieth to one-eighth of a second. ■ Crop

in close to focus on your subject. There were things that I wanted to keep out of the photo: audience members, other dancers, musicians. ■ The energy of photography is often in the imperfections. When it’s beautifully shot and the background is perfectly composed, I’m less interested.

STATS Focal length 80mm Shutter 1/15 sec Aperture f/2.8 ISO 400

■ If you haven’t done it before, practice the technique. I have a whole library of techniques that I can bring to different situations to illustrate things in the way I want.

See more of Read’s work at markread photography.co.uk.

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WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Hongdae, Seoul

Seoul local Hahna Yoon shows us around her favorite neighborhood, a creative district at the heart of youth culture in the South Korean capital.  @hahna.yo

JUST AN ILLUSION “The Trick Eye Museum houses a number of surprises. First up is the museum itself – visitors step into 3D art installations, and an optical illusion makes it seem as if they’re diving into a dragon’s mouth or floating over a waterfall. There’s also an Ice Museum, with a 10-meter [33-foot] ice slide, and the Love Museum – for all intents and purposes, a museum about sex.” trickeye.com/seoul/en

CULTURE BLOCK “Sangsang Madang is a lovely independent cinema and exhibition space that showcases indie and foreign films and shows. I last came here to watch Moonlight in the atmospheric, intimate cinema in the basement. There’s also a great stationery store upstairs.” 65, Eoulmadang-ro

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SOAK UP THE SOJU “Famous for its soju [rice wine] bombs, Samgeori Pocha is invariably packed with raucous groups celebrating one thing or another, singing, drinking and having a good time. Pocha means ‘tent where you drink.’ Once upon a time, the bar was housed in an actual tent; then it expanded, and it’s now a huge, sprawling affair.” 361-12, Seogyo-dong

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: COURTESY OF THE TRICK EYE MUSEUM; PAUL BRIGHTON/ISTOCK/ GETTY IMAGES; KT&G SANGSANG MADANG; ILLUSTRATION: MUTI-FOLIO ART

READING MATERIAL “Thanks Books has a serious following of fans. It’s a well-curated store that sells books, magazines and art catalogs in both Korean and English. There’s a café, too, and local creatives flock here to enjoy its unique atmosphere.” 57-6, Yanghwa-ro


PARK LIFE “Gyeongui Line Forest Park is built along four miles of a disused railway line that used to run to North Korea. It’s one of the largest, liveliest green spaces in Seoul, with street performers playing music and locals picnicking on the grass. There’s also a container library; people pop in, pick a book and read in the sunshine.” 147-89 Donggyo-dong RETRO DRINKS “For a great bar that’s a little off the beaten path, head to Gopchang Jeongol. It’s got one of the most loveable interiors in Seoul: it’s like a time capsule back to the ’80s, decked out with vintage lamps, wall-to-wall records, and with old sound systems mounted on the walls. Don’t miss out on the homemade bokbunja-ju [raspberry wine].” 327-17 Seogyo-dong

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: COURTESY OF VISITSEOUL; HAHNA YOON; JYLEEN21; @TINYYYSTYLE

SEOUL FOOD “Hands-down the best barbecue restaurant in Hongdae is Cheolgil Wang Galbisal [Railroad Barbecue]. You grill the meat you’ve ordered on mini braziers at your table, and the whole place has a freshly sizzling, smoky smell. I bring all my friends in here and make them try the legendary doenjang [fermented bean paste].” 4-2, Changjeon-dong

HONGDAE STYLE “If you want to know what Korean streetwear looks like, head to Stylenanda, which mainly stocks female fashion. The clothing brand sums up downtown Seoul style in a nutshell. My favorite purchase is a pair of high-waisted ‘mom’ jeans. There’s another surprise in here that’s worth knowing about – a café decorated in pink and gold, with a miniature swimming pool attached!” stylenanda.com

What word should every visitor to Hongdae know before arriving? Geonbae, which means “cheers”

Summer 2018

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Celene Aubry (left) is manager at veteran letterpress shop Hatch Show Print in Nashville, Tennessee. Old posters and memorabilia cover every bit of wall space in the store (below).

MEET THE MAKER

The Print Artist

In 139 years of uninterrupted operation, Hatch Show Print has become synonymous with Nashville’s entertainment history. Meet the person who’s helping to keep that tradition alive. by ALEXANDER HOWARD photographs by TEC PETAJA

@AlexMHoward  @tecpetaja

THE CLANK OF A WELL-OILED letterpress rings through Hatch Show Print as printmakers work to complete a batch of posters advertising a Beatles tribute band. In spite of the shop’s location in the middle of Nashville’s rapidly expanding downtown, inside there’s an air of Music City’s past, when horses outnumbered cars and before neon lit up Broadway. Although Hatch began in 1879, its golden age coincided with the rise of Nashville’s best-known export: country music. As the sound of twanging guitars, fiddles and banjos poured through radios and dance halls across America, Hatch positioned itself as the No. 1 print shop for the industry, offering show posters for some of the biggest names in entertainment, including Hank Williams, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash. For more than a century, Hatch defined a “look” that became synonymous with

country music: bold colors, intricate design and balanced type. In the 1980s, facing competition from computerized printing, the shop reinvented itself, adding commemorative art pieces to its repertoire. “One of the unique things about Hatch as a print shop is that we design everything that we print and we print only what we design,” shop manager Celene Aubry says. “It’s been that way since day one.” Aubry runs the store, helping with everything from ordering supplies to managing staff. Then there’s the fun stuff: setting antique type, developing educational programs, mixing ink and operating a letterpress to produce Hatch’s iconic posters. Aubry laughs when asked what drew her to the craft, which uses inked raised blocks of wood to press images and type onto paper. “I studied physics and architecture in college,” she says. “But I grew up in a

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Hatching a Plan in Nashville Here are print shop manager Celene Aubry’s recommendations for a Hatch-inspired trip to Nashville. Get inky on the Art Crawl. “During the the First Saturday Art Crawl, we offer a two-hour block party where we take some of the hand-carved imagery that we’ve made in the shop and let participants ink it up and print it on paper and then on fabric.” nashvilledowntown.com

household where creativity was encouraged and we were always making stuff.” She is fascinated with the letterpress printing process, the tactile nature of handcarved type, the ease of production and distribution of paper materials. “It’s the antithesis of digital design,” Aubry says. “Sometimes you can still smell the ink on the poster when you pick it up.” Since arriving in Nashville in 2012, she has guided Hatch as it moved from its old location on Broadway to a new space nearby, next to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. She helped develop an informative tour that demonstrates the process and shares Hatch’s history. She rails off dates and details like a historian, easily gliding into the story of Hatch’s beginnings.

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Clockwise from top left: mixing ink; printing posters for Rain, a Beatles tribute band; old posters make an informal gallery of prints through the ages; the library of antique type

But as her hands expertly set pieces of type, it’s clear that dates and details aren’t the only things that drew her to Hatch. “I knew that if I came to the shop, I wouldn’t be able to leave,” Aubrey says amid shelves of type stacked like old paperbacks. “So I intentionally didn’t visit the shop until I knew I was coming for a job.” Today her team continues to produce an array of posters and ads for businesses and musicians. Hatch also maintains an art program that features restrikes of original print blocks that haven’t been used in decades, such as an Airstream ad from the 1940s, alongside new work from national and international printmakers. Tours $18; prints from $8; hatchshowprint.com

Catch a show at the “Mother Church of Country Music.” “Visit the Ryman Auditorium. It’s incredible to have a venue that has the natural acoustics that venue has. Everybody who plays there sounds about a hundred times better when they hit those floorboards.” ryman.com Dip into Nashville’s art scene. “The art galleries on 5th Avenue downtown have been introducing Nashvillians to art for many years. Newer galleries, such as those of Julia Martin, Dane Carder and David Lusk are offering work that is not as conventional, but definitely part of the conversation.” juliamartingallery.com danecarder.com davidluskgallery.com


Philly Revised A historic city gets an upgrade. After being dubbed America’s first World Heritage City in 2015, Philadelphia has been sprucing up the joint with new openings and renovated spaces. This summer several long-running projects are coming to fruition, and other recent developments are quickly gaining speed. Since opening last year, Royal Boucherie (royal boucherie.com) has become a new favorite under the direction of Top Chef winner and James Beard semifinalist Nicholas Elmi. Expect a blend of French and American cuisine, such as wild snails braised in champagne and

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commodities exchange, will be prime sampling territory when it’s converted to a food hall and market this summer. Grab a picnic and head over to Philly’s answer to NYC’s High Line, the Rail Park (therailpark .org), which will provide three miles of elevated green space on an old rail line north of central Philly.

TED NGHIEM

Charcuterie board at Royal Boucherie

doused in chartreuse hazelnut butter, or the Boucherie Burger, stacked with bacon, American cheese and truffle mayo, with fries cooked in pork fat. A few blocks away, the brandnew Museum of the American Revolution ($19; amrevmuseum.org) has won acclaim for its depiction of the war from various points of view, including slaves, Native Americans and women. The Bourse (theboursephilly.com), which once housed the nation’s first

Summer 2018


THE SECRET HISTORY OF

The Scottish Kilt

Sporrans have been around longer than kilts have. These medieval-style pouches turned out to be a handy alternative to the pockets that traditional kilts lack. They also act as a strategically placed weight in windy weather.

as part of Scottish national dress in the 19th century, it divided opinion across the country. The majority Lowland population tended to think of it as barbaric, calling its bare-legged wearers “redshanks,” while Highlanders in turn viewed trousers as “unmanly.” The wearing of kilts in Scotland was banned the year after the Jacobite rebellion of 1745; until the ban was lifted in 1782, the penalty was six months’ imprisonment if caught, while repeat offenders would get seven years’ transportation to the colonies. The kilt’s return to official favor came in 1822, when King George IV paid the first visit to Scotland by a reigning British monarch in almost two centuries. The muchcaricatured king was encouraged by the Romantic writer Sir Walter Scott to wear a kilt – although the flesh-toned tights he paired it with were a departure from Highland custom. Celtic peoples have been making tartanlike designs since Roman times or earlier, but tartan patterns only became formalized in the early 19th century. Since then, new designs have been added and the official Scottish Register of Tartans (tartanregister.gov.uk) now lists thousands of patterns, including ones for Heineken, Domino’s Pizza and the Canadian Dental Association. If you want a kilt of your own but can’t claim any Scottish roots, let alone Highland clan ancestry, tradition still allows you to wear a number of “universal tartans,” such as the Black Watch or Flower of Scotland.

BEFORE THE KILT WAS ENSHRINED

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The sgian dubh (“skee-uhn doo”) is a small, singleedged knife worn (inside a protective cover) tucked into the top of long socks. As an item of “national dress,” it is exempt from U.K. legislation regulating offensive weapons.

Kilts: check them out

See how kilts are made during a visit to the Highland House of Fraser in Inverness, where you can also meet kiltmakers and rent the garments. highland houseoffraser.com

No question is more personal than what a “true Scotsman” ought to wear under his kilt. Tradition lies on the side of nothing, but kilt rental companies prefer underwear to be worn, as do organizers of Scottish dancing and Highland games events.

Order a custom kilt from Edinburgh-based 21st Century Kilts, which offers textile options including leather and denim, plus pinstripes or camouflage print. 21stcenturykilts.com

The average man’s kilt uses eight yards of 28-inch-wide fabric. For a good-quality kilt, expect to pay at least $400, and that’s before you include accessories.

Watch Highland Games in Canada, home to the Glengarry Highland Games. Go to Maxville, Ontario, for the action August 3–4. glengarry highlandgames.com

ALEX CATEDRAL

With the exception of the Loch Ness monster, no other Scottish icon is as enigmatic and contentious as the kilt. Read on to discover why.


J O U R N A L

ADAM DETOUR

TALES FROM THE ROAD

Join Lonely Planet writers and editors for an epic ride in the Himalayas, stories of travel gone wrong, and a quest to find the perfect clam chowder in Boston.


JOURNAL

Feeling Blue Photographer Adrienne Pitts traveled with friends to the “blue town” of Chefchaouen in Morocco for a few days of exploration. had us a little nervous. As the taxi wound its way over the hills, we were a bit dubious as we saw a lot of white and very little blue dotted around the landscape. “Huh� Where’s all the blue� Did every photographer who’s been here lie� Is nothing sacred anymore�” Like many places in Morocco, the most photographed and oldest parts of the city are held within the medina. Chefchaouen has an old town and a new town, and the old town remains hidden from view until you walk through one of the gates and discover it on foot. Walking around “Chaouen” is kind of like being at Disneyland: total overload for the eyes. During our time there, we wandered the medina from top to bottom and back again, clambered to the old fortress wall to look out over the city, got offered hashish more times than we could count, came across so many genuinely kind people, made friends with all the cats, discovered one of the few places in town to get an ice-cold beer and took more photographs than we could possibly have anticipated. The town was dotted with more colors than just its famed blue: bags of open, powdered paint line the shop fronts, ready for you to pick your favorite hue to take home. And that was Chefchaouen. Where we found the best kefta (meatballs), made many new friends and got lost in a sea of blue. It was definitely a place that was good for the soul. See more of Pitts’s photography at adriennepitts.com.

THE APPROACH TO CHEFCHAOUEN

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PHOTO CHALLENGE

Curve Each issue we present our Instagram followers a new and fiendish challenge – to submit photos on a theme of our choosing. Here we reveal the winning images for “curve.” @lonelyplanetmags

Our favorite shot

I was in Aarhus in Denmark visiting a good friend, and went to the ARoS gallery at his suggestion. This rooftop corridor, called Your Rainbow Panorama, is a circular glass walkway in the full color spectrum. What makes it so interesting is that your experience of it changes depending on the time of day, the weather, your mood or even how fast you walk through. I was surprised at how different I felt passing from one color area to the next.

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ABOUT THE WINNER:

Tara Lowry, from Canada, used a tripod to take this photo of herself in the gallery. @taralowryphotography


OPPOSITE: YOUR RAINBOW PANORAMA, OLAFUR ELIASSON, 2011, AROS AARHUS ART MUSEUM

JOURNAL

The Longsheng Rice Terraces outside Guilin in China @thejourneynotes

Bhumibol Bridge, crossing the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok, Thailand @eugeniocorso72

They’re always too fast! A blue tit in the Cotswolds, England @tom_matthews_photography

Whirling dervishes perform the “sema” dance in Istanbul, Turkey @lindz_ee

Cărturești Carusel bookshop, in Bucharest, Romania @thesofulltraveler

Lava at Kilauea volcano in Hawaii, known as home to fire goddess Pele @wantdreambelieve

A paraglider dominating the sky in Pokhara, Nepal @palm.trees.and.portraits

Natural waves set in stone in Arizona’s Antelope Canyon @christauziet

Built in Brutalist style, Hotel Uzbekistan in capital Tashkent @jonadlertraveler

Summer 2018

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GOING FURTHER

High in the Himalayas The challenge of cycling in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas is rewarded with more memorable local encounters than can be had from a seat on a bus. by MATT SWAINE

@MattSwaine

illustration by MARC MARTIN

 @marcmartinillo

the way he greeted my horror-stricken face, which was inverted in his windshield, with such a sweet smile. Seconds earlier, my bike’s handlebars had been snared by a low-slung power line, and the bike catapulted from the bus’s roof rack. Sitting cross-legged on the roof, I watched in disbelief as my bike now dangled above a rutted mountain pass while we continued our descent into the valley. Hanging from the roof of the bus, I hammered on the windshield. “Stop … my bike!” Unfazed, the driver calmly negotiated the narrow mountain pass in reverse until he was positioned under my stranded steed. I had cycled up the road to Manikaran three days before in torrential rain and hardly noticed the prayer flags, bunting, cables and banners that were slung above the road. I was too busy trying to negotiate the landslides, wheel-sucking mud and covert man-traps masquerading as puddles. Dangling from the power line, the bike was now audibly fizzing with the threat of electrocution. “Do not worry. I have protective gloves!” the driver said as he waived a pair of latex kitchen gloves above his head. He clambered onto the roof of the bus and lifted the bike free from the cabling to a riot of applause from the passengers who had gathered to watch. I suspected that this wasn’t his first aerial rescue. I had been similarly rescued when I arrived at New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi International Airport four weeks earlier and was startled to find my bike circling the airport carousel with a buckled rear wheel, having been thrown from the aircraft with the rest of the luggage. But in Delhi’s cycle market I had met an incredible artisan who whipped off his sandals and straightened my wheels to perfection with his bare feet.

I REALLY HAD TO ADMIRE THE BUS DRIVER:

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J O U R N A L

IT HAD TAKEN THREE DAYS OF CYCLING NORTH out of the capital to catch my first glimpse of snow-crested mountains and feel the cool Himalayan air. It was a welcome relief from the searing heat of the fume-choked plains, where sacred cows ruminated in the slow lane as trucks tore past. The heat of any day was matched by the warmth of my welcome. Cyclists on single-speed bone shakers would pedal alongside, smile and engage in a light-hearted race. Slamming on my brakes to avoid a wedding party one morning, I was asked to dance with the groom, then spent the afternoon as guest of honor. And a few days later, waiting in a rest stop after a particularly long ascent, I met a motorist holding out a bunch of flowers and inviting me to drink chai and talk cricket. My first destination was Shimla, the summer home of the British Empire where the government and their families would decamp to escape the heat. As I rounded a corner one day there was a rather incongruous British church, cast adrift from the age of Empire in the middle of the mountainous green of the state of Himachal Pradesh. After following the narrow-gauge train line that leads into Shimla, I was confronted with what could almost be, in places, an English market town. It’s 145 miles from there to Manikaran, where the live power cable incident put me off buses for good. By the time I had hauled my bike another 56 miles to Manali, I was taking the contours in stride and was ready for my biggest challenge yet. The Rohtang Pass on the Manali to Leh highway takes you to an elevation of 13,051 feet. Only open during the summer months, the pass separates the Kullu and Lahaul Valleys. Its name translates as “pile of corpses,” a reference to those who have lost their lives trying to cross in bad weather. But on the day I arrived, the road was packed with a convoy of tourist buses, bringing travelers from the south high into the mountains to get their first glimpse of snow. They cheerfully alighted at the roadside stalls to rent outlandish fur coats, walking poles and hats that were clearly essential to tackling isolated patches of dishwater-gray snow. Hundreds of day-trippers, looking like escapees from Narnia, threw obligatory snowballs and attempted to fashion ice and slush into snowmen and igloos. After a couple of hours’ ascent, I found the road blocked by a wall of snow, with no idea how high I was. It certainly wasn’t the top of the pass, but it was a genuinely satisfying way to end a climb. I rolled back down the hill, finally overtaking the tourist buses that were busily returning their arctic gear on the way home.

“Waiting in a rest stop after a particularly long ascent, I met a motorist holding out a bunch of flowers and inviting me to drink chai and talk cricket.”

THE DAY-TRIPPING HIGH JINKS WERE IN STARK contrast to the spiritual aura that hangs over the hillside city of Dharamsala, home to the Dalai Lama, a few days’ ride away. Its main street is lined with large, colorful prayer wheels, and monks making their way to temple, weaving between travelers who’ve come for meditation, enlightenment and keenly priced banana pancakes. That week His Holiness would be blessing thousands of pilgrims who stood patiently in line for a moment in his presence. I joined in for the novelty of meeting a spiritual celebrity, but the warmth of his eyes genuinely moved me. I walked into the nearest barber’s and had my head shaved. It may have been a mere fashion statement, but the sensation of the wind brushing my scalp on a fast descent out of the Himalayas the following day felt truly spiritual and made the return to Delhi something of a pilgrimage.

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IN SEARCH OF THE PERFECT

Clam Chowder From colonial fishing ships to presidential inaugurations, we trace the origins of Boston’s signature dish and go on a quest for a bowl of the city’s best. by KEVIN SLANE

@kslane

photographs by ADAM D e TOUR

 @adamdetour


J O U R N A L

Lunchtime at Atlantic Fish Co. (left); a cup of chowder at Legal Seafood (above); having a meal at Row 34 (opposite)

“New a spot on the National Register of Historic Places, the pier opened clam chowder’s in 1914 and became the nation’s leading port by 1920. Today it still origins can processes thousands of pounds of seafood a be traced day, including some of the clams that go into back to the city’s chowder. Beyond a 360-degree colonial times.” metallic bar, the cooks are hard at work in the open kitchen. The smell of fried fish wafts over a busy lunchtime crowd. Sitting across from me is executive chef Rich Vellante, who has learned a thing or two about the history of chowder during his 20 years at the restaurant. Vellante tells me that New England clam chowder’s origins can be traced back to colonial times, when fishermen from England, France and Nova Scotia went in search of fortune on the high seas. The dish’s origin wasn’t necessarily a country extending its culinary footprint. Rather, it was a dish born of necessity. Onions, potatoes and salt pork all were kept on board, while clams and milk were plentiful on shore. With a lack of refrigeration, the best choice for sailors was to throw everything into a big pot and make a stew.

England

WHEN IT COMES TO IDENTIFYING what goes into the ideal bowl of clam chowder, personal preferences vary, but one good historical reference point comes from Herman Melville’s classic 1851 novel, Moby-Dick, whose protagonist, Ishmael, visits a fictional chowder establishment on the island of Nantucket, off the coast of Massachusetts. “Oh, sweet friends! Hearken to me. It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuit, and salted pork cut up into little flakes; the whole enriched with butter, and plentifully seasoned with pepper and salt.” Toss some potatoes and onions into Melville’s ancient recipe and substitute cream for butter and you’ve got the makings of a fine New England

clam chowder. The signature dish of the region, clam chowder has been served at presidential inaugurations since 1981, and is ladled out by the ton every year to tourists and locals alike. To learn more, I’m in Boston, a city steeped in colonial history that surely holds answers to my questions about chowder’s centuries-old origins. As I cross a bridge over Boston Harbor, I pass the Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum, a tribute to the colonists who dumped British tea into the harbor and helped ignite the American Revolution. Looming behind it on the horizon are tall glass buildings, a mixture of luxury apartments and offices that have sprung up in the past decade. I settle into a seat at Legal Sea Foods, where I have a perfect view of the Boston Fish Pier. Recently given

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For Vellante, who has lived in the area most “Whenever of his life, the dish evokes nostalgic memories of New you’re England seafood past. “The combination of around a cup the briny clams, the richness, the sweetness or bowl of of the cream, the salt pork, is something that’s chowder, it’s just so nurturing,” he says. “Whenever you’re around a cup or bowl of like home.” chowder, it’s like home.” Here, chowder is served in a white ceramic bowl with a bag of oyster crackers on the side. The clams are chewy and sweet, but not saccharine, and the potatoes offer a deliciously starchy balance in texture. There’s an aromatic, herbal flavor I can’t quite put my finger on, but Vellante is understandably protective of the chowder’s precise recipe, a secret less than a handful of people know. “It’s like the Coca-Cola recipe,” he says. “It’s our recipe, one that we love, so there are a few things we don’t share about it.” Later that day, I visit Quincy Market, a historic building in the heart of downtown, where chowders are plentiful. Opened in 1826 as a meat and produce market, it now houses around 30 culinary merchants separated by white columns in Greek Revival architectural style. As I walk through the colonnade, workers at kiosks that serve pizza (Regina Pizzeria), hot dogs (The Dog House) and chocolate chip cookies (The Boston Chipyard) hawk samples or call out to potential customers among the tourist-heavy crowd. Despite the historic setting, the restaurants are thoroughly modern in their catering. At Fisherman’s Net, manager George Maherakis, who runs the stand with his father, Kostas, tells me they serve the only gluten-free chowder at Quincy Market. They don’t use pork, either. “The authentic, 100 percent New England way would be with pork,” George admits, “but all the restaurants in here try not to use it, because a lot of people don’t eat bacon.” Of the trio of chowders I sample at Quincy Market, theirs is the best: a hearty chowder that doesn’t cross the line into an overwhelming sauce-like thickness that makes you painfully aware of how much double cream goes into every steaming bowl.

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Over the next two days, I try a bevy of chowders. At Atlantic Fish Co., I sit in a window seat surrounded by model ships, trying to figure out how best to eat the bread bowl it’s served in, while an elderly couple looks on with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. At the crowded Yankee Lobster Co., I pair my chowder with a big basket of fries, as an arriving woman tells her three friends she is “literally obsessed” with the restaurant’s chowder, while not so subtly eyeing mine. Almost every spot I visit does a decent job with the dish, but the quest for a “perfect” chowder eludes me. I begin to feel like Goldilocks, finding imprecise flaws in every bowl. This chowder is too thick. This one is too thin.

This one is too grainy. This one has clams that are too chewy. During a fact-finding mission to Boston Public Market, I get a tip from Ryan Rasys, a sales manager at Red’s Best, a seafood retailer and wholesaler. Row 34, another Seaport spot I missed earlier in the weekend, is known for having some of the best oysters in the region. After tasting some of the chowder from Red’s Best (a lighter broth with a noticeable garlic kick), I’m inclined to trust Rasys’s taste. With my journey’s end in sight, I head out, ready to cross the harbor one more time. It’s brunch hour at Row 34, and groups of twentysomethings are chattering at the tables


JOURNAL

ILLUSTRATION: LOUISE SHEERAN

Try it at Home

and bars. I’m greeted by owner/chef Jeremy Sewall, who leads me to a quiet corner of the restaurant. When asked what makes a great dish, Sewall says, “To make a really good chowder, you have to stick to the core values of what chowder is. Salty, fishy, dairy, potatoes, onions, all of those things. That’s where you have to start and you can’t go too far away from that.” When I dig into Row 34’s chowder, I know I’ve finally found my chowder nirvana. Filled with just the right number of clams, it has a few accents I haven’t encountered elsewhere. Row 34’s chowder comes with a house-made cracker that crumbles nicely, but doesn’t dissolve into nothingness. The potatoes are red instead of

Clockwise from top left: Chowder from Red’s Best; outside Quincy Market; dining area at Boston Public Market; fresh seafood from Red’s Best; a bread bowl of chowder from Fisherman’s Net; onions at Stillman’s Farm; Row 34 chef Jeremy Sewall

white, with the skin still on them. The broth is a little less heavy, possibly because the restaurant uses half cream and half milk, instead of double cream. Per Sewall’s recommendation, I pop in a few dabs of hot sauce, which adds a subtle but unmistakable heat. When Ishmael and friend Queequeg finish their chowder-filled meal in Moby-Dick and ready themselves for bed, an innkeeper asks them whether they prefer cod or clam chowder for breakfast the next day. “Both,” answers Ishmael, “and let’s have a couple of smoked herring by way of variety.” Leaning back to digest and savor the meal, I’m inclined to think Melville was on to something.

Cook 4 slices of diced bacon in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat until fat is released. Remove bacon from pan and add 1½ cups diced onion and 1 cup chopped celery to bacon drippings. Cook for 5 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Stir in 1½ cups water and 4 cups peeled and cubed potatoes. Season with salt and pepper. Boil uncovered for 15 minutes or until potatoes are tender. Pour in 3 cups halfand-half and add 3 tablespoons butter. Drain 2 (10 ounce) cans minced clams, reserving liquid. Add clams and half the clam liquid into the soup, cooking for 5 minutes, avoiding a full boil. Sprinkle with bacon and serve with oyster crackers.

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6 Epic Drives for Summer A road trip is a source of stories and memories for a lifetime – whether it’s a slow drive through the scenic Blue Ridge Mountains or a 4WD excursion across Botswana’s sun-baked salt flats. Ready to hit the road? For inspiration, we present a collection of essays from Lonely Planet writers chronicling their favorite epic drives.


BLEND IMAGES - JINXY PRODUCTIONS/GETTY IMAGES


Canada’s Icefields Parkway START: L AKE LOUISE END: JASPER

TOM NEVESELY/GETTY IMAGES

D I S T A N C E : 14 4 M I L E S

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Snowcapped peaks, glinting glaciers, turquoise lakes and more wildlife than your average safari: the Icefields Parkway from Lake Louise to Jasper, Alberta, is hard to top for scenic splendor. by OLIVER BERRY

@olivertomberry

I’m only half an hour into my road trip in the Canadian Rockies and I’ve already come to a screeching halt. A moose has parked himself on the asphalt. Antlers speckled with dew, breath clouding in the crisp air, he’s rooted in the middle of the highway, chewing on some grass while he checks the view. I’ve been waiting 10 minutes. He hasn’t budged an inch. I honk my horn. The moose doesn’t seem bothered. I try revving the engine. The moose just keeps on chewing. I lean my head out and holler for him to shift his hide, haul ass, vamoose. Nothing. I ponder the wisdom of manhandling him out of the way, but since the moose outweighs me by 700 pounds and his antlers look capable of turning me into a plate of short ribs, I decide against it. If Mr. Moose feels like standing in the road a while, well, I’ll just have to wait. Happily, the Icefields Parkway is possibly the best place on the planet to find yourself in a traffic jam, moose-based or otherwise. Not that there’s much traffic. Stretching for 144 epic miles between Lake Louise and Jasper, this wild, mountain-framed road is

one of the most beautiful drives on Earth. From vast ice fields to plunging valleys, glacial lakes to serrated peaks, it packs more scenery into the drive than any road I’ve ever driven. “Having some trouble, sir?” drawls a mustachioed park ranger, as his 4WD slows to a halt alongside my car. “Let’s see if we can’t get things moving.” The ranger nudges his jeep forward, flanking the moose. The animal reluctantly trudges off into the grass, leaving the highway clear. “Sometimes all it takes is a little persuasion. Safe driving!” The ranger smiles as he rolls off into the distance. It’s the first of many memorable wildlife encounters on the parkway. Near Bow Lake, sipping coffee at the old hostelry of NumTi-Jah Lodge, I watch a pair of eagles soaring overhead as they search for prey. Farther north, from the trail over Parker Ridge, I spy a family of mountain goats picking their way along the canyon walls, like a troupe of acrobats dressed in fur coats. When I stop for lunch at the Saskatchewan River Crossing, I listen to the peeps of pikas and the whistles of marmots. And once, near the Athabasca Falls, about 20 miles south of Jasper, I spy a mother black bear and two cubs foraging for berries in the wildflower meadows. Sometimes, the Icefields Parkway feels more like a safari park than a public highway; only here, the wildlife is just that: wild. While the animals are fascinating, it’s the scenery that makes the parkway special. Based along the route of an old packhorse trail established by First Nations people and fur traders, the road was completed in 1940 to join Banff and Jasper National Parks. It’s a thread of civilization fringed by sprawling

wilderness. Craggy peaks spike the skyline to the east and west, and beyond lies wild backcountry barely changed since the days when Stoney, Kootenay and Blackfeet tribes called this land home. Waterfalls thunder down rock walls. Lakes sparkle electric blue. Then there are the glaciers that gave the road its name: more than 100, glinting like gems in the mountainside. Sadly, climate change now threatens these icy wonders. Even the mightiest have shrunk dramatically in size over the decades. At the Athabasca Glacier, about halfway along the Parkway, I stop at the Icefield Centre and take a 90-minute trip onto the glacier itself in an all-terrain snowcat. It’s a thrilling detour as the vehicle bumps and jolts over the ice, grinding its way onto the vast Columbia Icefield – at 125 square miles, the largest expanse of ice in the Rockies. At the top, passengers snap selfies surrounded by a boundless sea of ice: frozen in waves, cracked by crevasses, glinting like glass and tinted with a rainbow of icy colors. It’s sobering to think that one day even this great glacier might melt into memory. But for now, there are more natural wonders to explore ahead: a hike along the craggy ravine of Sunwapta Canyon, a detour to see the thunderous crash of the Athabasca Falls, an afternoon picnic with a view of the pyramid-shaped Mount Fryatt. It’s well after dark when I finally pull into Jasper, and I’ve only traveled 144 miles, but I head to bed happy in the knowledge that I’ve driven some of North America’s most spectacular scenery. Tomorrow, I think I might just hop back in the car, pull a U-turn and do it all over again.

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FROM LEFT: JONATHAN STOKES; JOEL CARILLET/GETTY IMAGES

Melbourne to Sydney

START: MELBOURNE END: SYDNEY DISTANCE: 620 MILES

The Great Ocean Road is an unforgettable start to the 620-mile coastal drive between Melbourne and Adelaide, Australia, but there is a similarly scenic route between Melbourne and Sydney in the opposite direction. Eschew the straight-asan-arrow Hume Highway and take the longer route around the eastern edge of Victoria and up the Sapphire Coast of southern New South Wales. Take a few days for the journey and you can overnight in low-key beach communities and arrive in Sydney relaxed rather than with a 620-

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mile stare. There are several ways of reaching the east coast from Melbourne. A favorite is to head through Gippsland’s green hills before skirting remote Croajingolong National Park, home to wild beaches. If you’ve got the gear, camping overnight here is a magical experience. Crossing the border into New South Wales brings you to the Sapphire Coast and its calm bays, secluded surf spots, beach towns and whalewatching vantage points. Overnight options range from motels to B&Bs and upscale resorts.


Through the Blue Ridge Mountains S T A R T : F R O N T R OYA L , VIRGINIA . END: C HEROKEE, NORTH CAROLINA . D I S T A N C E : 5 74 M I L E S

The 574-mile route through the Appalachian Highlands is one of America’s legendary road trips. by MARCEL THEROUX

@Therouvian

The two roads that run down the spine of the southern Appalachians, Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway, were built specifically for sightseers and tourists. They are winding, sedate – the speed limit never exceeds 45 mph – and closed to commercial vehicles. There isn’t a “gas-food-lodging” sign anywhere in sight, nor a gleam of neon. But the rewards for forgoing roads with higher speeds and corporate amenities are immense. This is a route filled with tales of moonshine, bluegrass music and disappearing customs. I join the northern end of Skyline Drive one morning after a leisurely breakfast in the town of Front Royal. The route winds through mountain scenery with views that stretch for miles to distant vanishing points; the colors span a vast range: from the hazy blue that gives the mountains their name to the yellows and greens of fresh growth that lines the road. Skyline Drive is the shorter of the two roads, sitting at their combined northern end. At 105 miles long, it can be covered easily in a day, though at the higher elevations the weather can be very fickle. Toward mid-afternoon, somewhere around milepost 78, mist swirls over the road and as I slow the car, a strange form appears on the road directly ahead of me. It’s a large black bear, lurching into the trees on the other side. It’s only visible for a few seconds, but the whole atmosphere of the mountain seems suddenly different: wilder and more threatening. At milepost 105, Skyline Drive comes to an end; from here the route continues on the longer Blue Ridge Parkway. Half a day’s drive along the parkway, close to milepost 213, sits the storied Blue Ridge Music Center. Overnight, high winds have felled a tree and taken down the power lines. Starved of electricity, the videos and recordings in the center don’t work, and suddenly we’re a bit closer to the music’s roots: two men in a shady corner, playing unamplified instruments, singing about the dark and the light of life in the mountains. Every afternoon during the months that the center is open, local musicians perform here for no charge. Today, 72-year-old Bobby Patterson

is plucking a resonator banjo, accompanied by Willard Gayheart, 82. The music – gospel and secular – is still a vital part of life in the region. Gayheart explains that, barely a generation ago, farmers hosted parties as a way of repaying neighbors for their help in bringing in a harvest. Hired musicians and tubs of moonshine would be the reward for a day of collective effort. The ranger at the Blue Ridge Music Center rolls her eyes when I show her where I’m headed on the map. There’s a weather warning: more heavy rain and high winds are expected toward evening. To stay off the top of the parkway, I leave the route and take the state roads, crossing the border from Virginia into North Carolina and passing small towns, churches, Christmas tree plantations and huge patches of pumpkins. But there’s no avoiding the Blue Ridge Parkway. I’m booked to stay in a cabin close to milepost 256, so in the late afternoon, I bid small-town America farewell and head back up the mountain. The weather is worsening and the road has become astonishingly eerie: a riot of windblown leaves, heaving branches and fog gathering in the dips. By some miracle, I find the lodge just as night is falling. By morning, the bad weather has finally passed. The rain and wind have denuded many trees, but the sun blazes through the ones that are left. At Linn Cove Viaduct I drive through some of the most uplifting scenery of the whole route. The viaduct itself is an architectural marvel. The last section of the route to be constructed, it was designed to have minimal impact on its surroundings. It seems to float above the slopes of Grandfather Mountain. From it, I look down on the huge belt of uplands that spread along the eastern seaboard of the United States all the way from New Jersey to Alabama. I turn off at milepost 385 to Asheville, North Carolina, with barely half a day’s drive to go until the southern end of the parkway. Asheville is a good place to stop and celebrate the journey’s conclusion – a lively place with a dynamic music and arts scene. At the recommendation of two local musicians, I head to bluegrass night at Jack of the Wood, one of Asheville’s live music venues. The audience includes young hipsters who look like they’ve just finished a hard day logging or gathering ginseng. The evening is a celebration of what’s local, renewable and homemade. It seems that just as Appalachia’s last mountain people are relinquishing their old ways, a new generation is looking to them for inspiration.

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Croatia’s Adriatic Highway

START: RIJEKA END: DUBROVNIK DISTANCE: 368

The Adriatic Highway stretches nearly 400 miles along Croatia’s coast and provides a front-row seat for 1,185 islands, an embarrassment of cultural riches and slow food prowess. by ALEX CREVAR

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@AlexCrevar

PAUL PRESCOTT/SHUTTERSTOCK.COM

MILES


My first brush with Croatia came 20 years ago on the Jadranska Magistrala, or Adriatic Highway, which hugs the country’s shoreline from Rijeka, in the north, to the border with Montenegro. It passes nearly 1,200 islands, endless vineyards, UNESCO sites, national parks and olive groves. But I knew none of this at the time. I was just cruising the sea. On that initial drive, the two-lane ribbon of road – part of the E65 roadway funneling into the smaller D8 – unfurled beneath my rented, yellow Fiat as I drove between the Dinaric Alps, a string of jagged limestone cliffs teetering above me on one side, and the sea below on the other. Zen-filled open roads, extending to the horizon, would suddenly give way to white-knuckle hairpins and crawling along in first gear as a rainbow of sailboats appeared on the rocky beach below. In those nascent days as a travel journalist, my sophomoric goal was to choose one of the many secluded villages and hole up in a writer’s bungalow. There I would craft something special to stagger my nonexistent editors. Salty fishermen sitting in the sun mending nets while puffing cigarettes would be a bonus. Perhaps skiffs would be scattered along a pebble beach, the deep-blue Adriatic slapping at their weathered sterns. I knew I was in the right place when I had to slow to a snail’s pace behind a man, rope in hand, coaxing along his donkey loaded with baskets of grapes. There were fishermen, by the way. And twice each day I joined the procession of villagers filling jugs with fresh spring water that flowed from a pipe sticking out of a rock wall. During those communal moments, I learned of secret beaches, caves, and where to go for activities I had, until then, not associated with the recently independent country.

Not much has changed, for me, over the past two decades. Every year I use the Adriatic Highway both for business, as a journalist, and for pleasure. But Croatia is no longer a secret. In many ways, the Eastern European country’s popularity makes this road of slow discovery even more special. These days, as time-pressed tourists rush to reach their must-see spots, those with a slower pace in mind, travelers in search of authentic adventure, know better. “Driving along this highway – or even better, riding on a motorbike – is a great way to experience the diversity of Croatia,” says Veselka Huljic, the general manager of & Adventure. The Split-based adventure tourism operator offers trips and excursions that include activities such as sea kayaking, hiking and cycling, but specializes in tailor-made tours. “You can’t really get to know the depth of this country until you travel without a schedule,” Huljic says. “Stop as you please along the coast, take in amazing views of the sea, and hop onto islands to experience culture, the parks, the incredible food and wine. At this speed the country starts to feel like yours.” Over the years, the Adriatic Highway has become the ultimate insider reference tool for me as I learned about the country’s angles and traditions. It would also be a surefire suggestion for the continuous stream of visiting friends and family. For instance, the highway provides access to five national parks, which each open a window into the character of the coast. Northern Velebit National Park, with sweeping sea views, is a jumping-off spot for long-distance hikers heading into the Velebit mountains, part of the trans-Balkan Via Dinarica trail running from Slovenia to Macedonia. Paklenica National Park, a confluence of sheer canyons, is a famous climbing destination. Krka National Park

takes visitors to some of the continent’s most beautiful waterfalls. And the islandbased Kornati and Mljet National Parks give travelers a sense of the coast’s hallmark remoteness. There are four UNESCO World Heritage along the highway: the Cathedral of St. James in Šibenik, the historic town of Trogir, the Diocletian’s Palace in Split, and Dubrovnik’s walled Old City. Each offers an insight into the timeline of the Adriatic. And this doesn’t even include the Roman and Hellenic ruins strewn along the route with such nonchalance that it’s common to pass by people milling about atop ancient blocks. The city of Zadar, for example, acts as an open-air museum with the original Roman forum and streets still in daily use. For those who have heard that Croatia is a gastronomic wonderland, the Jadranska Magistrala is as much a progressive dinner as it is a road trip. The island of Pag, in the coastal region of Northern Dalmatia, is Croatia’s sheep’s milk cheese capital and specializes in a sort – paški sir – that is flavored by the salty grasses and herbs the animals graze upon. The road then passes through the village of Posedarje, known for its pršut (dry-cured ham). Farther south, travelers wheel past the Pelješac Peninsula, where driversturned-diners pair oysters, pulled directly from the bay moments earlier, with some of the region’s best red wine, from a local variety called plavac mali. Two decades ago, the tastes and the images and the notebooks filled with illegible chicken scratch stayed with me long after I pulled off the Adriatic Highway and returned the yellow Fiat rental. I can’t remember if I sold a single magazine story from the trip. I know, for certain, that it was the beginning of my life as a writer. More importantly, the drive changed me forever as a traveler.

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Summer 2018

A remnant of an African superlake, the Makgadikgadi Pans is a region of three large salt flats interspersed with rich grassland, palm islands, rocky outcrops and isolated dunes. The main salt flats can be visited from Maun in a 4WD, via a route that passes glistening salt crust, cracked earth, ancient fossil beds, giant umbrella acacias and towering baobab trees. The region has been inhabited since the Stone Age. It’s worth getting out of the car to take a walk with local bush people and learn about how they track animals and find water in this arid landscape. As you travel the Makgadikgadi Pans, dusty whirlwinds spin across the road, but in the wet season (between November and March), the place is transformed into a lush wetland that attracts thousands of birds as well as herds of zebras and wildebeest, which are often pursued by lions.

MARCO BOTTIGELLI/GETTY IMAGES

DISTANCE: 300 MILES

FROM LEFT: CHRISTIAN HEINRICH/ROBERTHARDING;

The Makgadikgadi Pans of Botswana 60

START/END: MAUN


Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way START : INISHOWEN END: KINSALE DISTANCE: 1,600 MILES

Untamed and utterly divine, Ireland’s west coast is a dramatic procession of deserted beaches and towering cliffs where traditional music and ancient castles abound. by ETAIN O’CARROLL

@etaino

Ireland’s west coast is battered by long Atlantic waves, strewn with jagged cliffs and littered with wide beaches and sandy coves. The roads here are narrow and winding, with grass often growing along a hump in their middle. A herd of sheep can easily scuttle all plans. It’s the part of Ireland I love most. I grew up only an hour from the coast, but now that I live abroad I rarely get to spend much time here. Trips home are a whirlwind of family gatherings, and despite my best intentions, a stay on the coast never quite seems to happen. But then the contorted back roads, deserted beaches and turquoise coves of my childhood got rebranded as the Wild Atlantic Way: a 1,600-mile route that traces all the twists, turns and crenulations of Ireland’s rugged west coast. I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. The route commences on the Inishowen Peninsula in wild and mountainous Donegal. The peninsula is a remote and rugged place that’s also Ireland’s most northerly point and an area peppered with traditional thatched cottages, ancient ruins and enormous numbers of birds. I start out on my journey by meandering down coastal roads past gloriously deserted beaches. I climb the thick walls of the Grianán of Aileách, a circular stone fort, thought to be up to 2,000 years old, that’s perched on an 800-foot-high barren hillside. I sit mesmerized by the views of Mount Errigal and marvel at the Slieve League cliffs, which plunge nearly 2,000 feet down into the ocean below. Heading south, the familiar flat-topped monolith of Benbulben soon appears, every bit as beautiful as I remember it. I forge on, aware there’s a long way to go and little time to linger. I pass the Céide Fields, the world’s most extensive Stone Age monument, holler in the wind on the beach at Belmullet and feel the sorrow of the past in Achill’s abandoned famine villages. Impetuous weather and tortuous roads remind me that it’s a harsh place to live, but it’s all forgotten in a blur of colorful good cheer and rousing traditional music in Georgian Westport. I climb Croagh Patrick, Ireland’s holiest mountain,

and am treated to a clear view of the islands of Clew Bay. Vibrant, bohemian Galway soon gives way to the limestone fields of the Burren, the precipitous Cliffs of Moher and the reels and jigs that are a feature of Doolin’s pubs. The driving is easy; the challenge is not getting waylaid along the way. I make my way to places I’ve only ever heard of on the shipping forecast, where colorful lighthouses pilot ships to safety. In a downpour I remind myself why I set out to do this at all, to reach places just like this, that I would never have bothered to visit otherwise, where dead-end roads question my commitment but reward me with incredible views. I take a ferry across the Shannon Estuary and enter the “kingdom” of Kerry. I drive Slea Head and round furrowed headlands to see brilliant beaches embraced by rocky cliffs. The Blasket Islands look beguiling but I struggle to see beyond the tales of unrelenting hardship recounted by author and islander Peig Sayers, which are a staple on the Irish school curriculum. Then it’s on to the Ring of Kerry to wind my way around Ireland’s highest peaks, Macgillycuddy’s Reeks, and past the jagged Skelligs where a 6th-century monastery doubled as Luke Skywalker’s secret hideaway in Star Wars: The Last Jedi. As I head south from Kenmare the traffic eases away as I make my way along the wonderfully remote Beara Peninsula. Vividly painted fishing villages and farming communities dot the mountainsides, and sheep wander everywhere, some even transported to their island home by cable car. The scenery calms as I make my way through prosperous West Cork and I can feel my journey is almost at an end. I make the final push through picturesque villages with quaint names and bobbing yachts, trendy shops and organic farmers’ markets to the narrow, winding streets of Kinsale, where gourmet restaurants tempt me to celebrate the end of this epic trip. I don’t really feel like celebrating, though. Instead of scratching an itch, this invigorating journey has succeeded in opening up a legion of longing. I want to go back again, to do all the things I missed this time around: to hop on ferries to outlying islands, kayak around headlands, hike up mountains, scramble over castle ruins, visit oyster beds and spend however long it takes to learn to surf. Yes, the rain poured and the wind whipped at my skin at times, but it’s only when you’ve given up on the downpour ever stopping that you appreciate the magic of the clouds parting and the sun lighting up the hillsides. It’s only then you realize that there’s nowhere quite so beautiful.

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Restaurants: All under $15

C HEAP EATS IN LOS ANGELES LA is a city of ever-evolving tastes, where many restaurants are pitched at the A-list, but you’ll find plenty of budget options too. Here are some of our favorite creative eateries that are popular with thrifty Angelenos.

Jeni’s Los Feliz

Ice Cream $ Expect a line of customers at this Ohio import, which scoops some of the creamiest, most inventive ice cream you’ve ever tasted, and offers top-notch service. Signature flavors include brown butter almond brittle and riesling poached-pear sorbet. Can’t decide? Ask for a taste, or two. » jenis.com; 1954 Hillhurst Ave.

Mercado La Paloma

EMILY KNECHT

Flavors from across the Pacific at Night + Market Song

HOLLYWOOD & WEST Eggslut Breakfast $ In this post-industrial Venice outpost of the hipster favorite, the best seller is the Fairfax sandwich, a lovably gooey mess of scrambled eggs, caramelized onion and sriracha mayo. The namesake, the “slut,” is a coddled egg on top of potato purée in a jar, served with crostini. » eggslut.com; 1611 Pacific Ave.

Fleishik’s Deli $ Eric Greenspan set a nationwide trend with his Grilled Cheese truck, but his new restaurant, offering “Sandwiches, Nosh & Whiskey” is a return to his Jewish roots – sort of. Everything is kosher here. The bubbe (grandmother) sandwich is brisket with crispy chicken skin, onions and horseradish. » fleishiks .com; 7563 Beverly Blvd.

Food Hall $ If you’re near Expo Park or USC, it’s worth the walk under the freeway to this fabulous food hall. A dozen restaurant stalls sell everything from Yucatán to Ethiopian cuisine, and ceviche to coffee. Top billing goes to Chichén Itzá, winner of numerous awards for gourmet Yucatán cooking such as achiote-marinated pork or chicken and tamales in banana leaves. » mercadolapaloma .com; 3655 S. Grand Ave.

Night + Market Song

Thai $$ After cultivating a cult following in West Hollywood, this gleefully garish temple to real-deal Thai and Cambodian street food is killing it in Silver Lake. Perk up the taste buds with spicy larb (minced-meat salad), proper pad Thai and harder-to-find specialties such as Isaan-style fermented pork sausage. The place can get crazy busy, so consider stopping by early in the week. » nightmarketla.com; 3322 Sunset Blvd.

DOWNTOWN & EAST

Din Tai Fung Chinese $

It’s a testament to the San Gabriel Valley’s ethnic Chinese community that Taiwan’s most esteemed dumpling house opened its first U.S. outpost here. The huge menu goes beyond dumplings as well, but everyone orders pork xiaolongbao – steamed dumplings juicy with rich broth. Expect long waits – it’s worth it. » dintaifungusa.com; 1108 S. Baldwin Ave., Arcadia

Donut Friend

Doughnuts $ “Donuts. Done differently” is its slogan, and this place is not kidding. Here, the beloved treats might be sprinkled with coconut bacon, stuffed with vegan cream cheese and fresh basil, or drizzled in matcha tea or maple glaze. If you prefer, you can customize your order. » donutfriend.com; 5107 York Blvd.

Guisados

Tacos $ Guisados’ citywide fame is founded on its tacos de guisados; warm, thick, handmade corn tortillas made to order and topped with sultry, smoky, slow-cooked stews. Do yourself a favor and order the sampler plate, a democratic mix of six mini tacos. The entire menu is gluten-free. » guisados .co; 2100 E. Cesar Chavez Ave., Boyle Heights

Kitchen Mouse

Vegetarian $ A super-cute café, Kitchen Mouse is a Highland Park

favorite for its generous, mood-lifting vegan and vegetarian dishes, such as the avocado TLT, a combo of avocado, cherry tomatoes and tempeh spiked with hot Dijon mustard and crunchy sunflower brittle. Good coffee, too. » kitchenmousela.com; 5904 N. Figueroa St., Highland Park

NBC Seafood

Dim Sum $ Behind the rotunda facade, this San Gabriel Valley dim-sum institution seats 388 at a time. At peak hours (roughly 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. on weekends) all seats are full, with a line out the door. Shrimp har gao, pan-fried leek dumplings and addictive shrimp on sugarcane are worth the wait, as are dozens of other small plates wheeled around on carts. » nbcrestaurant.com; 404-A Atlantic Blvd., Monterey Park

Porto’s

Cuban, Bakery $ At this sprawling bakerycafé (there’s also a smaller Burbank location), different stations dispense hearty sandwiches, luscious cakes and obsession-worthy pasteles (small pastries). Deep-fried potato balls filled with meat or cheese and jalapeños define comfort food, as do flaky guava-cheese pastries and meaty sandwiches such as medianoche and the Cuban. There’s simple cafeteria-style seating if you can bag a spot. » portosbakery.com; 315 N. Brand Blvd., Glendale

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C H E A P E AT S I N LO S A N G E L E S Accommodations: $ <150, $$ 150-250, $$$ >250

LOCAL LIFE

You haven’t really experienced Santa Monica, the beachfront city west of LA, until you’ve explored one of its outdoor farmers markets stocked with organic fruits, vegetables, flowers, baked goods and freshly shucked oysters (smgov.net/portals /farmersmarket). Check out the Wednesday market, around the intersection of 3rd Street and Arizona Avenue. It’s the biggest and arguably the best for fresh produce, and it’s often patroled by local chefs.

MAP KEY

  EATING Din Tai Fung Donut Friend Eggslut Fleishik’s Guisados Jeni’s Los Feliz Kitchen Mouse Mercado La Paloma NBC Seafood Night + Market Song Porto’s SLEEPING Bissell House B&B Elaine’s Hollywood B&B HI Los Angeles Santa Monica Hotel Indigo Line Hotel Montage

106 106

Summer Summer 2018 2018

WHERE TO STAY  for old-world charm 

 for budget stays 

 for industrial chic 

Antiques, hardwood floors and a crackling fireplace make this secluded 1887 B&B on “Millionaire’s Row” a bastion of romance. » bissellhouse.com

This big hostel near the beach has recently modernized facilities that can rival properties charging many times more. » hilosangeles.org

Behind the Line is Roy Choi, the man who sparked LA’s food-truck revolution. Interiors are sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows. » theline hotel.com

 for a homey ambience

 for creative design 

 for Beverly Hills glamour 

Situated on a quiet street, this B&B offers four rooms in a lovingly restored 1910 bungalo. Cash only. » elaineshollywoodbedand breakfast.com

This freshly minted property nods to Downtown LA’s colorful past of paparazzi, vaudeville, speakeasies and silent film stars. » hotelindigola.com

Bissell House B&B $$

Elaine’s Hollywood B&B $

HI Los Angeles Santa Monica $

Hotel Indigo

$$$

Line Hotel

$$

Montage $$$ Drawing wealth and eye candy, the Montage balances elegance with warmth and affability. The Moroccan-inspired spa is superb. » montagehotels.com

For More Information Read more in our Los Angeles, San Diego & Southern California guidebook ($21.99), Pocket Los Angeles ($13.99) or through our free-to-download Guides app.


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Lonely Planet Magazine (US) Summer 2018 Sample  

Take a look at exploring Lonely Planet's favorite road trips in this sample version. The full version will be on-sale on May 15, 2018. Enjoy...

Lonely Planet Magazine (US) Summer 2018 Sample  

Take a look at exploring Lonely Planet's favorite road trips in this sample version. The full version will be on-sale on May 15, 2018. Enjoy...