Once a year for four months, the pine and oak forests of the UNESCO-protected Biosphere Reserve, high up in the Transatlantic Volcanic Belt outside of Mexico City, come alive. Starting in early November, on the Day of the Dead, millions of monarch butterflies arrive after their 3,000-mile journey from eastern Canada and the United States to mate … creating one of the most majestic natural wonders in the world.
The butterflies clump together for warmth when the sun is hiding.
It all started in December when I realized I wanted to start off 2016 the way I wanted to end it — traveling and being inspired. I’ve always wanted to see the butterfly migration; when I was a child growing up in Ohio, the butterflies would sometimes pass through on their way to Mexico, and it was awe-inspiring to see football fields full of them — and I wanted to revisit that on a grander scale. I knew I had to go see the migration in Mexico.
Forget curling up with a cat, the most amazing thing in the world is cuddling an orphaned baby rhino. (Photo: Khululu Care for the Wild)
There is almost nothing more heartbreaking in South Africa’s war against rhino poaching than seeing a baby pachyderm standing watch over its dead mother, mourning. Many times the babies, too young to survive on their own, are also doomed; others are rescued — their fate unknown. But now, there is a facility in the north of the country where these babies are, fed, cared for, and ultimately released to the wild — and it’s guests (who pay for the volunteer experience) who are doing it.
It’s the new hands-on wildlife experience.
At Khulula Care for the Wild, situated on the banks of the Vreek, Noord-Kaap, and Queens rivers, in Mpumulanga, South Africa, you can actually cuddle, nurse, wean, and play with orphaned rhino babies whose mothers have been slaughtered by poachers.
According to Ellen Sziede, the marketing manager for African Conservation Experience, which runs Khululu, “there are an estimated 20,000 white rhino and 5,000 black rhino left in Africa. South Africa has by far the biggest population of all African countries, being home to almost 90 percent of all African white rhino. So the current estimated population for South Africa is about 18,000 white rhino and just under 2,000 black rhino.”
Viktor Barkas, who runs the Rhino Protrack team, which patrols for poachers on privately owned land outside of Kruger, in Hoedspruit, South Africa, told me last year that in the small area he patrols there are 2,000 rhinos — 126 of which were slaughtered in the first half of last year, leaving many rhino offspring orphaned.
“it is not a war on rhino,” Barkas said. “It is a genocide.”
The unlucky orphans (from all over the country, not just Barkas’s area) end up at Khululu, where the rhinos are raised and eventually released back into the wild in a program reminiscent of the wildly successful David Sheldrick elephant orphanage, in Kenya.
Volunteers are asked to stay for a minimum of two weeks — although exceptions are made — and during this time they rotate in and out of three teams.
The baby rhinos love feeding time.
Baby Olive loves her bottle. (Photo: Khululu Care for the Wild)
The first team, the Baby Team, looks after the youngest rhinos, which are still fed by bottle. “Travelers in this team spend a lot of time preparing the special milk formula and doing the bottle feeds, mothering the smallest rhinos, as they sometimes need people to stay with them at night when they are very small, and also helping with the veterinary care for new arrivals,” Sziede said.
The babies love a cuddle at nap time.
(Photo: Khululu Wild Care)
After working with the smallest rhinos, guests move on to Team Rhino, which takes care of the weaned animals, including recording feeding behavior and preparing mud baths for the little guys.
And then there’s Team Other — which isn’t as bad as it sounds.
“Care for the Wild looks after a lot of other species as well, not just the rhinos,” Sziede explained. “They currently have two hippos, three lions, several birds of prey, various antelope, a baby vervet monkey, and mongoose. All of these animals need feeding, enclosure maintenance, and enrichment — from playing with the monkey and mongoose to taking the hippos for a swim.”
Look who made a new friend… (Photo: Khululu Care for the Wild)
Sziede added that “This is hard work: Volunteers wake up at around 6 a.m. and go to bed at around 7 p.m … unless they are on the midnight feeding slot.” But the work is worth it.
And while there seem to be a lot of babies around, “There actually should be more babies (rescued),” Barkas said. “The poachers will kill the mother for the horn, and if the baby isn’t scared off, they will often kill it too just to silence it.”
The orphans will take all the hugs they can get.
Costs to volunteer (which include include pick-up/drop-off from Johannesburg Airport, accommodations, meals, and funding) are:
Two weeks: US$3,150Three weeks: US$4,050Four weeks: US$4,800
There is almost nothing more terrifying yet magical than being out in the Pacific Ocean, off the coast of Hawaii’s Big Island, with 18-foot-wide, alien-looking beings swimming backward loops just millimeters from your face.
One of the most fascinating things to experience in Hawaii is to take a night swim with giant manta rays. Although fierce looking — with triangular fins, horn-shaped cephalic fins, gaping maws, and long, sharp tails — they are not to be confused with some of their fiercer cousins (think sharks or Steve Irwin and his unfortunate demise).
“They are harmless — unless you dangle your feet and they accidentally hit you as they glide by,” Bob, my guide from Jack’s Diving Locker, said. “The largest of them can get up to 23 feet long and weigh 3,600 pounds, so it would be like getting hit by a Mac truck. But don’t worry,” he assured me, “that hasn’t happened — yet.”
A manta ray gracefully swims past a group of divers on a night dive in Kona. (Photo: Getty Images)
For someone who has a healthy respect for (read: fear of) the ocean, this wasn’t as reassuring as when Bob claimed sharks wouldn’t be present.
“Of course, sharks are in the ocean, but they usually stay away from the diving spots,” he said. “They usually feed at different times, and, well, no one’s been attacked on a dive — yet.”
Despite all the “yets,” I suited up — there was, after all, a 5-year-old boy on the boat, and I was not going to be outdone by a kindergartner.
The boats leave at sunset and cluster around the Sheraton outside of Kona.
“The night diving and snorkeling started when the Sheraton opened,” our guide said. “The lights from the hotel attracted the plankton, which brought the mantas.”
Divers and surface swimmers coordinate lights to attract the plankton that the manta rays feed on. (Photo: Jack’s Diving Locker/Facebook)
These days there are even more night lights. The divers bring beams of light with them and coordinate with the surface swimmers (that’d be me), clinging onto surfboards specially outfitted with more lights to create a column of light in the black darkness of the night ocean.
And then the giants come. At first there are one or two manta rays, gliding through the illuminated column, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the seemingly hollow beasts who, when they open their mouths, reveal the ocean through their two-foot-long gills.
A group of manta rays feeding at night. When they open their mouths, they seem magically hollow. (Photo: Getty Images)
It’s a silent ballet of creatures not even Cirque du Soleil could have thought up. The surreal experience is like watching aliens glide through the darkness, appearing from nowhere and disappearing, mystically, minutes later.
Afterwards, the snorkelers with me sat silent for a minute before looking around the boat in awe at the black ocean, hiding its marvels.
If you ever find yourself on the Big Island of Hawaii — go. It’s the experience of a lifetime.
Photo by Getty Images. Design by Lauren DeLuca for Yahoo Travel.
Deep in the Gobi Desert is an explorer’s dream: a real life dinosaur graveyard. Sixty million years ago, velociraptors and other dinosaurs roamed this part of the earth, which was then a grassy, leafy area. Now a stark desert, it is filled with their bones.
This site, Byanazag, otherwise known as the Flaming Cliffs, is especially famous because in the 1920s, American paleontologist Roy Chapman Andrews discovered dinosaur eggs there — proving dinosaurs were reptilian and didn’t have live births. Today, discoveries are still made every day.
The Flaming Cliffs of Mongolia are full of dinosaur bones.
Unlike sites in other parts of the world, in Mongolia you can still wander around unobstructed on these cliffs. What looks like stone may be bone, but you have to lick it to see.
My guide, Timur Yadamsuren from Intrepid Travel, elucidated: “You have to lick it — if your tongue sticks to it, it is bone. If it doesn’t, it is stone.” [Note: It is entirely possible Timur was messing with me and just wanted me to lick a bunch of stones, but some did stick and others didn’t so…]
However, if you do find dino bones (and, according to my sticky tongue, I did), it is illegal to remove them.
“You must take them to the museum or alert the government,” according to Timur.
An added bonus to this graveyard is the landscape, which, not unlike the Badlands in South Dakota, is made up of red and orange sandstone. So when the sun sets and the light strikes the cliffs, they look like they are on fire (hence the name, the Flaming Cliffs). It is a truly magical, mythical place and not one to be missed, especially for those of us who grew up dreaming of dinosaurs.
Thanks to Intrepid Travel for showing us such a good time in Mongolia!
Want more? Check out me getting Hazed by a Nomad Family in Mongolia:
This summer, I fulfilled a lifelong dream: visiting Mongolia. I’d read about Genghis Khan and his conquests for years and had always wanted to visit — a bucket list dream come true, if you will. I decided to do a road trip, as, 800 years after the Great Khan died, over one-third of the population still leads a nomadic lifestyle, living in gers (yurts), with their cattle (camels, cows, goats, and yaks) roaming the fields outside. Not much has changed over the years except for the method of transportation. In the older days, the ger would be wrapped up and put on a camel’s back for the move to fertile fields, while today, it is loaded up on a truck.
My chariot on the ultimate Mongolian road trip — an old-school, soviet-style van with no shocks and no seat belts. (Photo: Paula Froelich)
And, as there are few hotels outside of the capital, Ulaanbaatar, one must rely on the Nomad Code to survive. Which basically means rolling up on an unsuspecting family and asking to spend the night.
“If someone comes to your door, you must give them food and shelter,” Timor said. “Or they might not survive. And the next time you are traveling, they will give you shelter — or you might not survive.”
Welcome. Yurts, or gers, like this are seen throughout the country. (Photo: Paula Froelich)
The first ger we rolled up to was outside of the singing sand dunes. It had been a long day and I had climbed a 50-meter-high sand dune. I was hungry, dirty, and tired. Thankfully, Ankhaa, the owner of the yurt, was hospitable.
Ankhaa in his ger, looking very Jean Paul Gaultier. (Photo: Paula Froelich)
Ever since I was a child, I’ve had both an obsessive fascination and fear of saltwater crocodiles. They are one of the only creatures alive today that have been around since the prehistoric time of the dinosaurs — in fact, they are considered by some to be living dinosaurs. Since coming back from the brink of extinction in the mid-20th century, anyone venturing into the Australia’s northern territory can see one … just look on the river banks — or the beaches (crocodiles have been known to surf the waves around Darwin, not kidding). But considering they are expert stealth predator, and several people die every year from croc attacks, how close can you get? Pretty close, it turns out.
Yes, you can get this close. And yes, it is terrifying.
But before I hit something called the Cage of Death, I’m going to ease into it. Outside of Darwin, on the banks of the Adelaide River, are the Jumping Croc Cruises, where for $30 dollars you can hop on a flat-bottomed boat with roughly 20 other tourists (no dogs allowed, for obvious reasons) and cruise down the muddy river looking for crocodiles, preferably at feeding times (late morning or evening).
This guy was about 20 feet long … and very hungry.
Boat staff on the boat lure crocs from the riverbanks by attaching red meat to fishing lines and tapping the water with it.
“They feel the vibration in the water and come,” said our baiter, Kyla. “We like to make them jump so they work for their food and burn some calories. The exertion it takes for them to jump cancels out the calories from the meat, so they do still have to hunt in the wild.”
Photo by 167/Brooke Whatnall/Ocean/Corbis. Design by Erik Mace for Yahoo Travel.
It’s a weird, fun fact that as beautiful as it is, everything in Australia wants to kill you. Or at least hurt you real bad. Take, for example, spinifex, the tall grass that grows throughout the desert plains. From far away it looks soft and supple – swaying in the wind.
But this is no Andrew Wyeth bed of grass: spinifex has spikes, thorns, and when it’s dried out it is so strong it can pierce most flip-flops. At least you will (presumably) survive spinifex barbs in your foot. Which is more than I can say for pretty much everything else in Australia.
Paula, risking it all in Australia. (Photo: A Broad Abroad)
There are too many to list. Camels in heat will bite your head off? YES THEY WILL! Kangaroos may try to eviscerate you with one back claw judo swipe? HECK, YES THEY WILL! That cute fluffy looking bird will try to peck your eyes out? YOU BET IT WILL!
So I decided to keep it simple and compiled the top 10 things that will kill you — just in case you happen to head to the land down under and need to know the worst things to look out for.
But you may want to travel in a bubble suit, just in case.
