Wales: Hinterland

Ribbons of anonymous backroads thread their way through west Wales. Some take you to lonely lakes, some to chapels built for miners. Others just come to a dead end — sodden farmland or a steep hill blocking the way. >>

Iceland: On location

The morning sun is barely visible, but the light illuminating the frozen lagoon is blinding. Gleaming crystal-clear shards pepper a black-sand shoreline, luminous blue icebergs float silently on a mirrored lake, >>

Bangladesh: Otter fishing

A short, shrill shriek pierces the quietude of the Sundarbans' waterways. I become conscious of the hushed rustle of dense jungle foliage and the lapping of water against the sludgy grey mud of the riverbank. >>

Mexico City: Spiritual sanctuary

On this balmy morning, big-bellied men slumber against gently swaying palm trees, and armed guards snack on churros outside the religious heart of Mexico. Situated within Mexico City’s northern limits Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe is the principal site >>

Cornwall: The World Pasty Championships

It was a moment as tense as a duel. Or like being on the brink of an Olympic ski run. My judging partner, Julian Holmes, had lemonade and milk at the ready. I scanned the room for water and scored a jug from a lady whose face was a poem about pity. >>

Sapporo: Snow festival

The Sapporo Snow Festival is one of the largest of its kind in the world, each year attracting around two million visitors. Most are Japanese, although the event is becoming increasingly popular with international visitors. >>

Catalonia: A slippery slope

I can’t stop thinking about food — last night’s melt-in-the-mouth steak and deep, rich Rioja affirming the resort’s reputation for outstanding cuisine. >>

New Orleans: Mardi Gras

“You need to be at our place around 7am,” said my friend Emily. “Six-thirty if you want a breakfast cocktail. Six if you want bacon and pancakes.” >>

Australia: The Ghan

The wake-up knock from the carriage corridor comes at the requested hour. “Good morning,” a voice says. I reach from under the duvet and nudge my cabin door ajar. A hand appears, proffering a cup and saucer. “Your tea, sir. Milk, no sugar.” I mumble a pillowy “thank you”. >>

Abu Dhabi: Dune bashing

“Will I be allowed to drive once we’re out there?” I ask hopefully from the front passenger seat of our Toyota Landcruiser as we head away from the Corniche, Abu Dhabi’s urban beachfront. >>