The world is big and full of remarkable destinations. Take a deeper dive into the places we’ve been privileged to explore, all crafted from our own experiences. Use this information along with our Travel Recommendations to craft your dream adventure, Vagabond style if you like.
See more: https://vagabond-adventure.com/destinations
Travel is more than moving from one place to another—it’s
about experiencing cultures, meeting people, and collecting moments that shape
who we are. Every trip carries its own surprises, teaching us lessons that go
far beyond maps and guidebooks. The joy of sitting by a campfire under the
stars, the thrill of hiking to a hidden peak, or even the humor of a missed
train can become part of a lifelong memory.
Stories like these connect us. They remind us that the world
is vast, yet we share the same human curiosity to explore. Travel is not just
about destinations—it’s about the inner adventure that begins when we step
outside our comfort zone. Whether you are a seasoned globetrotter or someone
planning your first trip, there’s always something new waiting to be
discovered.
At Vagabond Adventure, we believe that journeys are best remembered when shared. That’s why our community brings together explorers from every corner of the globe. Through our Vagabond Journal, you’ll find narratives that resonate with the true essence of discovery. If you are searching for the best travel adventure stories, our platform curates authentic accounts from real travelers who have turned moments into memories.
These stories are not written by travel agencies with glossy brochures, but by individuals who embraced the unexpected—sometimes facing challenges, other times stumbling upon hidden treasures. For example, a traveler recounts the warmth of strangers who offered shelter during a sudden storm in the mountains. Another shares the thrill of navigating bustling markets where every corner tells a tale of tradition. These experiences remind us that the most powerful journeys often happen when plans don’t go as expected.
Beyond entertainment, these stories serve as guides and inspirations. They offer insights into local cultures, tips for overcoming travel hurdles, and encouragement to venture into new territories. When readers dive into these narratives, they find themselves transported—walking cobblestone streets, tasting exotic flavors, and hearing the echoes of distant festivals. This connection between the storyteller and the reader is what transforms a travel account into a true adventure.
What makes the Vagabond
Journal different is its authenticity. We value real voices, personal
struggles, and genuine triumphs. Each entry is crafted to spark curiosity and
inspire courage. For aspiring travelers, this collection becomes more than
reading material; it becomes a source of motivation. After all, knowing that
someone else took that leap into the unknown makes it easier for you to do the
same.
The beauty of these adventures also lies in their diversity.
Some are tales of solo wanderers who found confidence in unfamiliar places.
Others are family expeditions where bonds grew stronger under foreign skies.
There are also stories of friends who embarked on journeys and returned with
memories they’ll share for a lifetime. Each narrative, though unique, echoes a
universal truth: travel has the power to change us.
By engaging with these accounts, readers not only enjoy exciting stories but also discover practical knowledge. From learning about budget-friendly hacks to uncovering must-visit local gems, the Vagabond Journal becomes both a guide and a companion. This dual value—informational and emotional—is what makes our platform stand out.
So if you’ve been dreaming of adventures yet to come or
reflecting on ones already taken, the Vagabond
Adventure community welcomes you. Explore the best travel adventure stories on our journal page, and let them
inspire your next journey. Because every adventure, big or small, deserves to
be told—and yours might just be the next story that inspires someone else.
45 years later, Close Encounters of the Third Kind still entertains and thrills audiences. It’s a sci-fi classic with an epic, landmark location that audiences never forget. Steven Spielberg’s choice of Devils Tower for the finale of Close Encounters of the Third Kind remains one of modern cinema’s biggest, mind-blowing final reel moments.
It’s been 45 years since
Spielberg’s blockbuster Close Encounters of the Third Kind hit the big screen
in 1977.
Face it, ever since the UFO
hysteria was unleashed following the Roswell incident back in 1947 the interest
in flying saucers and space aliens has never diminished.
It has sparked our collective
imagination. Are we alone in this
endlessly vast universe? Or does
otherworldly intelligence exist? And, if
so, what would it be like if we ever encountered them?
The question has flashed through
the minds of everyone who has ever peered into the twinkling night sky and felt
that overwhelming sense of awe and wonder.
Hollywood wasted no time in
offering up possible scenarios. In
Howard Hawk’s The Thing from
Another World (1951) the interplanetary traveler is a terrifying
monster. In Robert Wise’s The Day The Earth Stood Still
(1951) he is an emissary with a dire warning, and a nine-foot robot companion
whose mission is to maintain global peace. The Earth and its nations can either
grow up and discard their nuclear weapons or be reduced to a burned out
cinder. You could argue that Gort—the
name of the robot—was the original Robocop.
In addition to these classic
films, there have been a steady stream of flying saucer films over the years.
Many of the early ones were low-budget, drive-in movie fare, featuring actors
in pathetic rubber costumes chasing scantily clad women. They have ranged from
flat-out comedy (Earth Girls
Are Easy, 1988) to splashy, big-budget, effects-driven spectacles like Independence Day, 1996.
Rarely had the topic been treated
very seriously. That is, until Steven
Spielberg made Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
It was a masterful mix of reality
and fantasy—a blend of all the sightings and rumors and speculation that had accumulated
over the years, with a sprinkling of pure imagination and state of the art
Hollywood special effects.
At last, UFOlogists had a movie
they could call their own. Spielberg,
the consummate storyteller, opens the film with a tantalizing moment in an air
traffic control room in which something totally mysterious streaks across the
radar screens, verified by airline pilots who can’t believe what they just
witnessed.
Close Encounters weaves together tantalizing folklore and documented, unexplained accounts of UFOs with unsolved pop culture mysteries like all those planes and ships that disappeared in the infamous Bermuda Triangle. He cobbles together the argument that something is out there, something that we have never been able to account for.
And so, when strange things start
happening to the main characters in the film, we’re all in. They are not just crackpots (though they are
treated as such, as they always are in movies like this), they are a selected
few being invited to witness the greatest moment in the history of mankind—our
mind-blowing encounter with beings from another world.
Close Encounters is a hugely
successful film, one that is delightfully entertaining in a style that has
become Steven Spielberg’s trademark. It
stands the test of time.
Part of the success of this film
is, of course, the setting. I’m speaking
of Devils Tower, Wyoming. It’s the
iconic, one-of-a-kind natural setting that cannot be mistaken for any other
place on this planet. It’s the place
where the characters need to go.
Collectively, they become obsessed and driven by some overwhelming
mysterious psychological motivation that drives them there. But what is the
obsession? They sketch it, they make sculptures of it with mashed potatoes and
finally piles of wet mud. They know, and
we know, that where they are being brainwashed and programmed to go is a wild
place they can’t resist. But again, why?
Devils Tower is a character in
this film as much as any of the rest of the cast. It looms large, very literally. Its size is overwhelming and awe inspiring,
until of course, the alien ship appears above it, completely and dramatically
dwarfing it. It’s the OMG moment that a
movie like this requires to knock you out of your seat.
Devils Tower is to Close Encounters what Mount Rushmore was to Hitchcock’s North by Northwest (1959). Spielberg was heavily influenced by Hitchcock, as his suspense-driven blockbuster film Jaws (1975) revealed. He knows what you can milk out of a famous, well-known location in the way of anticipation and thrills.
Interestingly, it was David
Lean’s film Lawrence of Arabia
(1962) that inspired Spielberg to become a filmmaker. Who can forget the famous cut early in the
movie between the closeup of a match being ignited and the vastness of the desert
in which men on camels appear to be tiny ants on a massive anthill?
For Spielberg, size matters. Scale matters. The choice of Devils Tower became the perfect
choice because of it instant recognizability and its staggering size.
Its name should appear in the
final credits along with the rest of the stars, and maybe it should have
received a special Academy Award for a category called something like Natural
Wonder in a Supporting Role.
It deserved it.
Resource: https://vagabond-adventure.com/library/remembering-close-encounters
Waking
Up in Arcade. Breakfast and the Locals
We awoke from our single beds
refreshed even though it felt like a vintage Camino Way guesthouse out of Lucy
and Desi’s 1950s sitcom (see
The Lucy Show). This, we assumed, was because single beds were for people
who weren’t necessarily partners. You saw a fair amount of that on the Camino
Way. Personally, Cyn and I like to sleep in the same bed. You don’t necessarily
get more rest, but it’s a lot more fun!
Once awakened and sensible, we
descended to the restaurant downstairs for breakfast. A group of middle-aged
men sat by the bar, sipping espressos, with buttered croissants, jacked on
caffeine and talking in rapid Spanish over whatever newspapers they had clasped
in their hands. It was a lively but good natured discussion, obviously a daily
ritual, and I wished I could have gotten involved, but my Spanglish was no
match for the latin phrases pouring so swiftly from their mustachioed lips.
Breakfast was served at the same
table we had supped the night before: coffee and tart, pulpy orange juice with
eggs over easy were placed in front of us along with spicy sausage, thick white
toast and rice. We inhaled it, drank some more coffee and surveyed our
situation. Next on the Camino Portugués route, our destination was the historic
city of Pontevedra, a short seven-mile walk compared to the 14 mile Trail of
Blisters we managed to survive the day before.
After breakfast, and back in our
room, we re-stuffed our daypacks, I nursed my blisters with a couple of
bandaids and we headed outside to bid the wood-sculpted pilgrim at San Salvador
de Soutomaior, the church across the street, good-bye. He said nothing in
reply. Apparently taking a vow of silence.
Statue
of pilgrim of San Salvador de Soutomaior in paved courtyard
The
Walk Begins: Roman Bridges and Morning Heat
We saw other pilgrims as we
walked through the town, but there seemed to be less of them than the day
before. They strode along the path in the sunshine with their backpacks
strapped on, some with walking sticks or staffs, others hoofing it old
fashioned way. Groups spoke excitedly in various languages, and loners moved
over the cobbled stones quiet and determined. The morning was gorgeous but you
could already feel the heat. At the edge of the town we crossed a long and
beautiful stone bridge, the Ponte Sampaio, one of the most iconic crossings on
the Portuguese Way of the Camino de Santiago, with its ten elongated arches.
The bridge was originally built by the Romans with masonry that would have done
the castles of Camelot proud.
Meeting
Father LaSana and His Students
Beyond the bridge, we made our
way north, skirting the Rio de Vigo before heading into trees and hills away
from the town. Rivers or streams always
seem to be near the Camino because once upon a time there was no running water,
no hotels, no restaurants. It was nature or nothing. The streams also have the
advantage of being relatively flat, having cut their way through valleys and
passes over the eons. Not that “The Way” is ever utterly flat. There were
always hills and valleys, ups and downs, much like life.
As we approached the woods, a man
walked up to Cyndy speaking perfect English and asked if she was from
Pittsburgh. Yes, she agreed, she was. The man knew because Cyndy often kept a
sweatshirt stuffed like a little billboard on her back under her day pack that
had the word PITTSBURGH emblazoned upon it. He knew the name because he was
from Delaware, but currently living in the Philippines.
He was a tall man with a big
smile. How he had ended up in the
Philippines and why he was walking the Camino Way was a little complicated. He
was a priest—just one of many unexpected encounters you have when meeting
people on the Camino. He had asked his bosses to move him from his previous job
in the United States to a place closer to the East Coast so that he could be
near his family.
“There was a discussion,” he
said, “and after a few hours, my supervisors moved me a little further east
than I originally intended — Manila.” He smiled his big smile. “I told them
that was a little farther east than the location I originally had in mind, but
I took the assignment.“
For the past 7 years he had
worked as the chaplain in a school for students from kindergarten to grade 12.
This explained why he had an boisterous crew of teens clustered with him as we
walked.
Father Andre LaSana was a member
of a relatively new Catholic priesthood — the Legionnaires of Christ. They
sounded unusually similar to the Jesuits – The Society of Jesus — to me —
priests who had taught me in high school. I had contemplated becoming a Jesuit
myself so I was intrigued. The Legionnaires’ goal, said Fr. LaSana, was to
engage not simply within the church, but outside of it – link with the real
world. All members of the order take vows of humility, poverty, chastity, and
obedience. Very much like the Jebbie’s. And like the Jesuits, it takes a long
time to get from deciding to be a member of the priesthood to finally being
ordained. Thirteen years in Fr. LaSana’s case.
Legionaires had been founded in
the 1940s by a charismatic Catholic priest from Mexico named Marcial Maciel. He
grew the Legionnaires quickly and effectively world-wide for over 60 years, but
according to the BBC, a 2019 report found that he had personally abused at
least 60 children, and that another 33 priests of the order abused minors as
well. The total number of children abused by the order since its founding in
1941 came to at least 175, an appalling number and this from a report generated
within the order! Fr. Le Sana was forthright about this history. In fact he
brought it to my attention when we were talking.
The Legionaries of Christ
eventually acknowledged their founder's "reprehensible and objectively
immoral behavior" as head of the congregation. The "very serious and
objectively immoral acts" of Maciel, which were "confirmed by
incontrovertible testimonies", represented "true crimes and manifest
a life without scruples or authentic religious sentiment", the Vatican
said. Maciel was eventually defrocked and the order was required by Pope
Benedict XVI to undergo a process of “purification.” Fr. LaSana told me he
thought things had changed, but after 70 years of abuse, many questions remain
about the church’s early efforts to hide the facts.
We walked on through the morning
and I talked with some of the young men in the group. There was Miguel, Emilio,
Nick Reyes, Nico and several more, but Fr. LaSana said most of them had
Filipino nicknames like BongBong and TenTen, and Jell-o (for Angelo). They came
from well-to-do Filipino households mostly. Very bright with excellent English.
One student planned to be a doctor, another a lawyer, maybe. He said he wasn't
sure just yet which made sense to me. He was only 15. It's early, I told him,
and suggested he keep his options open. He looked at me thoughtfully and then
said, “Of course. That makes sense.”
I asked them their favorite foods
and almost universally they told me it was the Filipino version of McDonald's –
fast fried chicken with rice or french fries. They were big fans of American
movies but didn't have much to say about the Camino Way, at least the religious
aspects of it. According to them, it was just a cool opportunity, and a great
way to see a part of the world they might never see again.
Through
Forests, Rivers, and Reflections
In time, we split off from Fr.
LaSana and his brood, and climbed into low mountains through green forests that
provided some relief from the rising heat. You find your mind undertakes little
journeys of its own when wandering for hours like this. That was one the
advantages of walking The Way. It becomes a spiritual journey whether you
intend it or not for the simple reason that it gives you to hours to wander the
pathways of your own contemplations. I’ve always found that time expands when I
travel. When home we grow accustomed to the same things day after day, but when
we travel we cram far more into our day than when we’re home. The first time I
took a long trip to Europe in my 20s, I remembered waiting for my parents to
pick me up at the airport and thinking surely I had been away for a year. It
was only four weeks. But I had jammed so many fresh experiences into those for
weeks that I felt time had expanded. This makes travel a kind of time machine,
or at least a time expander, a way to get more out of the limits life normally
imposes. That is surely one reason why I love travel so much and why Cyn and I
were making this journey around the world. The Camino Way was a mini-version of
our larger pilgrimage. We were filling each day with more of everything around
us, which in turn led to more insights and surprise which made life even more
interesting, more joyful, more satisfying, even on rough days.
The route to Pontevedra was
idyllic compared to the day before. On day one our battered feet tramped on more
pavement than dirt or grass and we saw more cars and trucks than birds or
greenery. Today was the opposite. We passed a lovely little chapel as pristine
as a cut diamond, and a small farm thick with grapes and peppers and tomatoes. We found that This section of the Camino
Portugués followed Roman Road XIX, a route nearly 2,000 years old and still
bearing the worn rock and milestones from the era of the Roman Empire. Circles
of yellow sunshine danced through the trees and over moss covered rocks, ferns
and birches. If only these rocks could talk, I thought, what stories they
could; these thousands upon thousands of pilgrims stretched across time and
place in search of salvation and the final resting place of Saint James. At one
point I heard a cowbell as we tramped along, and sure enough, there the animal
stood among the bushes, indelicately scratching her hind quarters with her back
hoof. Clang-clang-clang. I never thought I'd hear that sound in the
21st-century, which shows how much I know about the world.
An
Unexpected Fall Near Pontevedra
After a couple of hours we had
begun closing in on Pontevedra, but my feet continued losing their battle with
the hard ground, and now, not only were my blisters yelping, but Cyn’s had
begun to grow a crop of her own. “I hope not,” I said. “Not both of us. We need
to find a pharmacy, and get some moleskin.”
Nevertheless, we continued on, in
search of relief if nothing else. We were, at least, walking among shaded
forest, and had found ourselves walking along a creek of cool water. Out of
nowhere among the trees, I stumbled upon a small walled building that seemed to
serve no purpose, except as a kind of artistic canvas because it was festooned
with artwork, including the silhouetted image of another pilgrim determined to
make his way to the grave of the great apostle.
He wore a broad-brimmed
Franciscan hat on his head, clearly determined to complete his journey, but
static, locked in time. I saluted him as I passed and continued following the
stream which must have recently flooded because some of the path was muddy and
rutted. For a second I thought I might sit and submerge my crippled feet in the
cool water, but decided instead to check my GPS to see how close were to the
Pontevedra. That’s when I stuck my foot in a hole and gave it a damn fine twist
…
I
fell like a sack of beans.
Over time I generally outpace Cyn
on our walks. It’s a side effect of having legs considerably longer than hers.
I never mean to leave her behind, it’s just that when I turn around to say
something, she’s not there! But now she caught up and found me sitting on the
damp ground, sock off my left foot, rubbing it as if it were a genie that might
deliver a few wishes. If only. Cyn figured I had decided to dip my feet in the
cool water too, but I was really checking to see how badly I had twisted my
ankle because if it was bad, finishing the hike was going to be a problem. Just
getting to Pontevedra was going to be a problem. It wasn’t as if we could hail
a taxi and text Uber.
We looked the appendage over. It
was nasty, but I had had worse. When I stood up and put weight on it, it wasn’t
terrible, as long as I moved forward and stayed on the level. Any turn to the
right or left, or any uneven slope or rock, and white shards of sharp pain shot
down my leg — thigh to ankle. I
apparently had what doctor’s like to call a high ankle sprain. That was Dr.
Walter’s diagnosis, anyhow. Good news. I could walk. Bad news. It takes a long
time for this to heal. I put the foot in the creek water right away to reduce
the swelling and after 15 minutes, we headed, me limping, into town.
Arrival,
Pharmacies, and Finding Relief
Pontevedra is a charming city,
larger than Arcade, considerably smaller than Vigo. We found our hotel, a very
clean, modern affair located in a part of the town that lay right along The
Way. Before we did another thing, we found a farmacia (pharmacy), easily
discovered thanks to the neon green crosses that mark each store (essential
knowledge if you’re wondering where to buy blister care supplies on the
Camino). Inside we bought a few yards of the Compeed® that the store sold.
Compeed is a clear, almost elastic tape created to fight blisters by protecting
the skin before it’s irritated, or, if it’s too late, after a blister has
formed. Either way it saves the skin from the shoe that wants so badly to rub
your life miserable. The stuff was a godsend and once we showered we slapped it
on with a vengeance. Immediate relief, but still not as good as moleskin in my
mind. But as far as we could see Moleskin is not much sold in Europe.
Showered, cooled and thoroughly
Compeeded, we ate at the restaurant downstairs. I have no notes to explain what
we shoved in our mouths. I’m sure it was good because walking The Way builds
the appetite of a marathoner and anything placed on a plate tastes good.
Afterwards, with our feet feeling less fiery, we walked the neighborhood,
stopped for a couple of cappuccinos as the sun settled toward the horizon and a
listened a raucous flock of birds hidden in a nearby tree make a racket that
would have done Lead Zeppelin proud. We didn’t last long into the night,
charming as the area was. We were fried and sleep beckoned from our air
conditioned single beds ending another unforgettable day on the Portuguese Way
of the Camino de Santiago.
FAQ
Q1: How long is the walk from Arcade to Pontevedra?
A: The stage is about 7 miles (11 km), making it a relatively easy day compared to longer stretches.
Q2: What challenges should I expect on this route?
A: The path includes hills, uneven ground, and cobblestones, which can cause blisters or even ankle sprains. Heat can also be a factor, so start early and carry water.
Q3: What landmarks will I see along the way?
A: Pilgrims pass the Ponte Sampaio, a Roman-era bridge with ten arches, and sections of the Roman Road 19. The route also winds through forests, chapels, and small farms.
Q4: Who do pilgrims typically meet on this stage?
A: Expect to meet a mix of international travelers, locals, priests, students, and solo walkers. Many walk for spiritual reasons, but others simply for culture, fitness, or adventure.
Q5: How can I treat or prevent blisters on the Camino?
A: Local pharmacies sell Compeed
blister pads, which work well for prevention and treatment. Traditional
moleskin is less common in Spain, so bring some if you prefer it. Cooling feet
in streams, wearing good socks, and taking breaks also help.
Resource: https://vagabond-adventure.com/library/camino-de-santiago-day-2-arcade-to-pontevedra
Even after these past days of remarkable views, today’s may be the most remarkable of all. We walk among the penguins enjoying their childlike behavior, see a frolicking leopard seal and gaze on the mountains and glaciers gliding along on our zodiacs, and a solitary penguin wandering his own private glacier. The videos and images tell the story.
From Day 525 of the Vagabond Adventure. You can read more about our Antarctic Expedition here: https://vagabond-adventure.com/vagabond-journal/category/Antarctica
