But, home would not be home without our friends and family, and good times have been had. The world is now green and beautiful, our garden is partly planted, and our wiffle ball field has already seen plenty of use. It is good to be home.

There are days when it seems we might never have left, like we’ve awoken from a dream. But others bring back memories from lands far away, such as the lupines blooming along our driveway. Along that vein, we thought we’d share the whole collection of title page banners that we used rather like calendar photos along the way. Viewed together they present some beautiful contrasts that capture a bit of what travel is like.

We are not quite done posting to this blog and we’re also cutting together hours of video into a short film for entry into some film festivals later this summer. Until then, enjoy the photos. Click the pictures to see the related post.

The relentless snowfall of Hokkaido, Japan. January, 2011.

Frosted peaks in Daisetsuzan National Park. January 2011.

Birch trees clinging to steep slopes on Yarigatake, Hakuba, Japan. February 2011.

Windows into old Japan, Kyoto. February 2011.

Close up on the Buddhist temples dotting Luang Prabang, Laos. March 2011.

Burning rice fields cloud the Nam Hou river, Laos. March 2011.

The best beach ever.  El Nido, Palawan, Philippines. April 2011.

Lush eucalypt forest along the Great Ocean Road, Victoria, Australia. May 2011.

First light on the Tasman Sea. Croajingolong National Park, Victoria. May 2011.

Mandarin harvest, South Australia.  May 2011.

Watching over Uluru. Australia’s red center. June 2011.

Floodplains at Ubirr, Kakadu National Park, Northern Territory. June 2011.

Filtered sun through fan palms, Daintree, Queensland. July 2011.

A sea of vines, Marlborough, New Zealand. August 2011.

The Kaikoura Peninsula, New Zealand. September 2011.

Tree fern silhouette, Abel Tasman, New Zealand. October 2011.

Glacial meltwater, Fiordland, New Zealand. November 2011.

Lupines. Omarama, New Zealand. December 2011.

Vine leaf, Marlbourough New Zealand. January 2012.

The dry and golden Wither Hills, Blenhiem, New Zealand. February 2012.

Morning light on a distant glacier, Aspiring National Park, New Zealand. March 2012.

Ferns in the kauri forest, Northland, New Zealand. April 2012.

1. Annie’s mac and cheese
2. A pint of Heady Topper
3. A pint of TLA from American Flatbread
4. A flatbread from American Flatbread
5. Cabot cheese
6. The price of gasoline
7. The price of alcohol
8. A hot, green summer
9. A crisp, colorful autumn
10. A cold, snowy winter
11. A dresser full of different clothes
12. People speaking English the way we speak it
13. Being a local
14. Maple trees and maple syrup
15. Gerard’s sourdough bread
16. Good bagels
17. The view of Mt. Mansfield from our front window
18. Our favorite swimming holes
19. American sports on television
20. Baseball on the radio
21. Goldfish crackers
22. Being able to have a campfire when you go camping
23. Kettle brand kettle chips
24. Rolling hills covered in trees
25. Fireflies
26. Wiffleball
27. Friends
28. Family
29. Grilled hot dogs
30. Large pizzas that are actually large
31. Having a house
32. Seeing animals other than sheep
33. Farmhouses
34. Good mexican food
35. Fast, free internet
36. A night out in Burlington
37. Thunderstorms
38. Accurate weather forecasts
39. Having a job
40. Having money
41. Men wearing shorts that cover their white thighs
42. Cheerios
43. Christmas in winter
44. Thanksgiving
45. The 4^th of July
46. Being able to forget that the sport of cricket exists
47. Road trips to Maine
48. Pandora radio
49. Living in a country where rat tails are not considered fashionable

We do have several more things to share here before our lives slide into un-bloggable routine, but it will have to wait till we are on the couch stuffing our faces with a nice fat bowl of Cheerios.

At the northern tip of New Zealand, the road ends at a dramatic curve of cliffs dropping into the ocean. The Indian Ocean and Tasman Sea meet just offshore in a frothy line of clashing waves. For the Maoris, this was both a place of creation and the point where the dead enter the spirit world — an impressive spot to gaze across the water.

The far north also holds relics of a time when New Zealand had no human inhabitants. Massive kauri trees fill the forests here, not impressively tall by redwood standards but enormously wide and undeniably ancient — some of them are more than 2,000 years old.

At night, we crept silently through the forest listening for the telltale piercing call of New Zealand’s beloved icon, the kiwi. We could hear a couple of them calling to each other somewhere in the pitch black forest, but knew the chances of one wandering right next to the path were extremely slim. Just as we were heading back to our tents, we heard a rustling in the bushes, exactly like a long beak probing the undergrowth for bugs. Quickly flashing on our headlamps, we spotted a small feathery back before it melted back into the night.

As we dropped Alex off at the Auckland airport for his flight home to Canada, an incessant drizzle and a forecast for a week of rain almost made us wish that we could join him. But, if there is one thing we have learned it’s to never trust a New Zealand weather forecast. A day’s drive led to the rugged and little traveled coastline of the East Cape, and the rain clouds were nowhere to be found. Kayaking through an aquamarine playground of rocky shores and roasting marshmallows over an open fire (a novelty here in NZ) proved an idyllic way to take advantage of the weather.

Afternoon rays fall to the left of White Island, New Zealand’s most active volcano.

This corner of New Zealand is Maori country, and further down the coast in gathering clouds we pulled up to St. Mary’s Anglican Church in the town of Tikitiki. The church blends Christian themes and Maori design — even the stained glass is cast in traditional black, white and red Maori patterns, and six ancient deities support the lectern. A husband and wife were practicing music for the next day’s Easter service, and she spoke to us for a while about the church interior and the struggles to keep this town of 200 alive. Most of those left are older, she said, and it these days it’s hard to keep the young people here. This weekend was the school reunion and old pupils had returned from far and wide to celebrate the school’s 125^th anniversary.

Eventually, the predicted rain caught up with us. Eastwoodhill Arboretum, a 300-acre park with thousands of tree varieties, was a perfect spot for two damp nights. We wandered miles of peaceful paths under the familiar branches of maples, oaks, birches and chestnuts, just showing the first blushes of fall color.

A fantail says hello.

After a couple days, the sun returned, and it was back to the beach to try our hand on a borrowed (thank you Natalie!) surfboard. We took brief and exhausting turns paddling out and getting battered around by waves that were much to large and sloppy for our skill set. We finally found a mellower break in Gisborne, and Nate managed to stand up once.

A couple hours inland, a large and untouched block of native forest makes up Te Urewera National Park and Whirinaki National Forest. After the recent rains, the tree ferns and mosses were a brilliant green, and we walked along spongy paths under a canopy of jungly vegetation. We are going to miss these forests!

The Coromandel Peninsula is a favorite vacation spot of just about every Kiwi we’ve met, and for good reason. The peninsula is lined with unbelievably gorgeous coasts, beaches, and bright green sheep paddocks. At this late time of year, we barely had to share it with anyone.

Just off the main road, Otama beach is a long arc of white sand, backed by sand dunes and rust-colored cliffs. We walked up and down the long, empty beach in both evening and morning light.

At the far end, a swing hangs on thick ropes from the limbs of a pohutukawa tree. Kids voices carried down from the collection of summer homes above, and we wondered if they realize how lucky they are. What a place to grow up.

The drive to the top of the peninsula was possibly the most beautiful we’ve ever taken – and after 45,000 kilometers of driving down under, that is saying something. A hazardously narrow dirt road winds along a scalloped coast, lined with the graceful spreading branches of pohutukawas and nikau palms. Sheep farms, of course, hug the steep hills, and we must have pulled over to gawk a dozen times.

We spent a day and a half here, wandering the hillsides and watching a pod of dolphins offshore, and it was about at this time—two hours down at the end of a long dirt road—that our car decided it was just about done.

A loud, erratic crunching noise made us wince and pray that the axels would not pop off and send us careening over the edge on the whole trip out.  In the end, it was just one more adventure and another beautiful drive. Rolling into Auckland that night was a relief, having put 30,000 kilometers of New Zealand roads behind us.

We have just one more day in this country we’ve grown to love. A long spell of spectacular weather seem to be trying to lure us into forgetting past downpours. It is going to be sad to leave after so long, but home is calling.

Well…no, not really. It’s safe to say that New Zealand is home to the most varied landscape on the planet. The topography, climate, and vegetation all change drastically as you travel up, down, or across these small pieces of land. Each trail has proved to be undeniably unique, beautiful, and full of surprises, and the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, which will end up being the last long walk of our trip, was no different. Traversing 20 kilometers of the central North Island’s volcanic highlands, the Crossing navigates volcanic peaks, wide lava plains, and thermal hotspots.

But first, if you are going to have an enjoyable day completing the Alpine Crossing, you should temper your expectations. Piles of travel brochures proclaim it to be the best day hike in New Zealand — or even, ambitiously, the world. A bold statement, and one that lures tens of thousands of people a year to the trailhead. We’ve walked many beautiful trails in New Zealand and I’m sure the rest of the world has a lot to offer. Let’s just call it a nice walk and leave it at that.

So, we were expecting crowds, but were still quite shocked to see several hundred other people joining us at the trailhead on a cold, windy, cloudy morning. Hiking up in a steady stream of tourists with views partially blocked by the back of some stranger’s head, we got the strange feeling we were part of an Old West covered wagon train rather than experiencing a South Pacific wilderness. We neglected to photograph this portion of the trip for obvious reasons.

Grandiose titles and crowds aside, Tongariro National Park holds a captivating landscape. The trail winds through vast empty sweeps of land filled with chunks of black volcanic rock, pressure-warped pieces of brown and red pumice, and hardy gnarled shrubs. It’s beautiful in a stark and dramatic sort of way, and, once again, completely different from anything we’ve seen so far.

As we approached Mount Ngaurahoe—the brooding volcanic peak that served as Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings movies—the clouds shrouding the summit evaporated. It looked like a long, boring climb, but we had to do it.

Surprise, surprise, it was a long, boring climb. Loose ash and pumice slid down the sides of the steep cone with every step, requiring nearly twice the effort, and a cold wind blasted us, numbing our fingers and noses. The crowds were left behind, though, and views opened up with each step upwards. By the time we reached to top we had forgotten about all the effort to get there.

Thin wisps of volcanic steam rose from the bottom of the ice-crusted caldera, mixing with the passing clouds. Broad sweeps of barren land spread out below us, dotted with emerald lakes and plumes of sulfuric steam from geothermal vents. Lake Taupo glittered in the distance and 130 kilometers to the southwest, the tip of Mount Taranaki poked out from above the clouds. It was utterly freezing at the top, with ice-cold winds threatening to blow us over the edge.

Due to a week of clouds and rain, this is the only view we got of Taranaki, peeking above the clouds.

Alex, Nate, and Steph, on top!

The descent was infinitely more enjoyable, and after running and sliding our way down the pumice slopes, we rejoined the well-worn path for the last half of the crossing. The trail curled along the edge of Red Crater, a massive pit of red and black swirled rock, and passed by the shores of vibrant emerald lakes.

Looking at a mountain is that much more enjoyable once you have climbed it — especially if you are sitting in a plush hotel (of which you are not a paying guest) with a beer in your hand.

Ngaurahoe lit up in the evening light out the window of the Tongariro Chateau and we felt content to give the soles of our shoes a rest for a while. You could spend a lifetime trying to hike all the pathways lacing this country, and we think we didn’t do too bad in our nine short months here. We have walked through sheep paddocks and rainforest, along tropical beaches and cold, stormy coastlines, to the tops of mountains and through deep green valleys. We have walked across miles and miles of this wild, beautiful place and now our trail has come to an end.

Wellington is New Zealand’s capitol city, and has a reputation that precedes it. Everywhere we travel across this country, a mention of Wellington usually garners a comment on how great the city is or how crappy its weather can be. Unfortunately for us, it was the latter that came true, as wind-driven rain pounded down for all three days we spent in the city. This meant that most of our time was spent in free museums or looking forward to the next meal, snack, or drink, in a search that eventually led us to the mighty lineup of taps at The Malthouse.

Bare wood beams, a wall full of bottles from far and wide, and a beer list as thick as the Bible. Immediately, we felt at home.

After a few generous samples we secured respective pints of a Belgian white and an IPA from Blenhiem-based Moa, the Armageddon IPA from Epic, and a delightfully hoppy American IPA from Wellington’s own Tuatara.

We could have spent the night here, devouring pint after pint and curling up under the bar for a sound slumber if not for one thing: $10 beers have a nasty habit of adding up quite quickly. Thus, the evening saw us torn between far off looks of contentment and bitter shakes of the head, muttering things like, “it’s a damn shame.” After two apiece we ripped ourselves off the stools and shuffled home through the drizzle.

But despite the weather, we’re left with fond memories of New Zealand’s favorite city. We’ll just have to imagine the views of glittering steel and glass against a bright blue bay and autumn sunshine… because the only photos we have are from inside the bar.

Ascending 4,000 feet in just 2 miles, the route from Aspiring Hut to the north ridge of Mount Tyndall is a punishing ascent through snow grass and precipitous crags.

But the view helps take the mind off burning legs and lungs.

A small hollow at the top of the ridge makes for a perfect campsite: just enough protection from a stiff east wind, and incredible views across the valley to Mount Aspiring.

A full moon rises, and the Southern Cross and Orion dominate the bright night sky.

New Zealand’s changeable weather brings consistently inspiring sunrises. First light hits Aspiring and the West Matukituki gleams like mercury.

The twin summits of Mount Tyndall, our objective for the day, beckon beyond our camp.

A few hours later, we stand atop the lower northeast peak. The precipitous east face drops into the arc of the river valley far below.

The main summit is an impressive pyramid from here.

We trek across the Isobel Glacier to the base of the pyramid. Crumbling rock plagues our ascent from here, making an otherwise straightforward climb an unexpected challenge.

The summit is small and very satisfying. The mountain falls away steeply in all directions and our view extends over three national parks and countless peaks.

We take in our last view of Mount Cook in the distance to the north. Mount Brewster and Armstrong stand to the right to remind us of past adventures.

Back at camp in late afternoon, we perch on the valley’s edge. Certainly one of our favorite views in the country.

Another alpine morning, another stunning sunrise. The Rob Roy Glacier glows in morning light before the clouds roll in for good. We descend to the car and hole up in Wanaka while rain pours down during the night. A perfectly timed trip.

So long, South Island!

When else might we be living in the heart of one of the world’s great wine regions? Ignoring the wineries just down the road would be a crime, akin to skipping sushi during a trip to Japan. So, late one morning, we set off on the two trusty bikes parked in our garage, armed with a vineyard map and picnic lunch.

It was a perfect day for biking. A late summer sun shone down onto infinite vines, the rising temperature tempered by fluffy clouds and a light breeze. It took all of three minutes to roll up to the first cellar door at Gibson Bridge.

There are dozens of small, family-run vineyards scattered across the map, producing small vintages that never make it to the States. Marlborough is famous for its sauvignon blanc, though most wineries offer or even specialize in other varietals: pinot gris, gewurztraminer, chardonnay, riesling, pinot noir. It is all good. A far cry from the ubiquitous box wine we drank in Australia, it is pleasantly surprising to be able to relate to the detailed and pretentious tasting descriptions. Some of this wine actually did have slight flavors of mango and pineapple, while others were peppery or had a hint of citrus. It didn’t take long to be able to navigate the wine lists and figure out our favorites.

We had picked up a wine touring book at the library which included a list of other notes and flavors we might come across on an afternoon of tasting. Thankfully, we have yet to sample wine with hints of leather, cigar box, coffee, or — why not? — manure.

The patio at Isabel Vineyard.

A typically happy vineyard dog.

After several months of cheap living, it was wonderful to feel like a tourist again. We parked our bikes next to white limousines, pretended to be interested in $60 bottles, played petanque on a court surrounded by roses. Best of all, there are enough wineries within pedaling distance of our house that several more days could be filled in the same manner.

Admiring the view from Highfield Estate.

Playing petanque at Forrest Winery.

A loop in the opposite direction brought us to Nautilus Estate, Wairau River Wines, and a dirt road that runs past the vineyards to the banks of the Wairau and our favorite swimming hole. Though the river was chilled and swollen from weekend rains, which also brought the season’s first snow to Marlborough’s highest peaks, a quick dip was mandatory.

The Nautilus wine rack.

Another day, another ride, this time to the gates of Georges Michel, a French influenced winery. The wine here was delicious, some boasting smells and flavors that make you wonder if they didn’t crush fresh berries right into the bottle. We opted not to resist a platter of charcuterie and two flights of wine to match.

After all these days of sampling, we’ve built up a little wine cellar in the bottom of our closet. Opening a bottle under the backyard silk tree was just as enjoyable as a day in the finest winery courtyards; the perfect way to spend a summer afternoon.

What we don’t manage to drink now will be stuffed into backpacks to make the return trip across the Pacific. Wine seems an all-encompassing souvenir. With a sip of Georges Michel Syrah on a cool autumn night, memories of wrapping vines on frosty August mornings and breezy summer bike rides will surely come flooding back.

Strung around the outskirts of a vast, empty interior, Australia boasts a captivating array of landscapes— lush rainforest, snowcapped mountains, miles and miles of rugged coastline, towering gum trees, some of the world’s finest swimming holes, the beautiful city of Sydney. And, of course, in the middle of it all, the most famous rock in the world…

_

Getting organized.

But first, we thought we’d share some of the more obscure pieces of gear that we’ve found immeasurably useful. Some of these are rather specific and if you’re using an iPhone for a camera or if you hate the outdoors you can probably ignore half this list. Regardless, here are a few of our favorite possessions:

Mini extension cord/splitter – These days, most people travel with at least one piece of electronic gadgetry (ipod/laptop/cellphone), and if you add in a camera with batteries to charge a cord such as this one will prove useful time and time again. Ours is six feet long and splits one socket into three, meaning we can charge everything from the comfort of a nearby table instead of crawling around on the floor. No joke, this might be the most useful item in our backpack.

Outdoor Research PL Base Gloves – After years of putting up with numb hands on winter video shoots, we finally found a fix for our month of skiing in Japan. These liner gloves are perfect for shooting photos out in the cold. Just thin enough that you can still feel every button and lens ring, and warm enough to take the bite out of the winter wind.

LaCie 500GB Rugged Drive - These are far and away the best hard drives for steady travel. While a flash drive may suffice for a shorter trip, if you’re going to be taking a few hundred GB (or in our case, several TB) worth of photos or videos, look no further. These drives are small, light, and, appropriately, quite rugged— I once saw a co-worker drop one to the floor from waist height, plug it in, and continue his work. As an added bonus, they’re powered through the computer via Firewire or USB, so there’s no need to trip over more cords or use up another power outlet.

Dakine Sequence Camera Backpack– This backpack has been used and abused every day since we left home, on top of three years worth of use beforehand. It’s awesome. It has a snug and stable fit, and is protective enough that you can ski or ride full tilt and not worry about crushing your gear in a fall. The internal camera block is removable, which we carry along on multi-day hiking trips inside our larger backpacking packs. A perfect pack for travel or action sports photography. Steph has a Dakine Heli-Pro ski/snowboard pack, which is equally excellent in its own right.

500mL Nalgene screw-top containers – Nothing beats this 16-oz container for food storage on a backpacking trip. Fill it with snacks during the day, eat dinner out of it at night, store leftovers or wash it out and brew a hot drink. It’s rigid so your food doesn’t get crushed, has a solid screw on lid, and it’s just the right size. Plus, it’s cheap—no need for anything fancy. Find them at any good outdoor store.

Pacsafe antitheft bag – We brought this to curb the nagging paranoia that comes with carting around lots of expensive camera gear. This 35L model is a metallic mesh that fits over our bag of camera and computer gear and locks around anything solid (bathroom pipes or the bed, usually) in a hostel room. While it’s hard to tell if it ever thwarted any thieves, the piece of mind it provided made us glad we had it along. Definitely recommended if you’re bringing along a DSLR, a laptop, or any large valuables and don’t want to bring them everywhere you go.

25L Dry bags – We kept our clothes in these, and put the camera in one during kayaking trips. They double as compression sacks and it’s quite nice knowing that even if it starts pouring you’ll have dry clothes at the end of the day. We’d recommend buying one with a transparent window so you can see where your things are instead of digging around blindly for the right t-shirt.

Steph, quite proud of her efficient packing.

Travel first aid kit – We’ve used just about everything in our handy little kit, and mostly during regular travel, not backpacking trips. Band-aids of all sizes, gauze, an elastic bandage, moleskin, antiseptic wipes, antibiotic ointment, forceps (indispensable for tick removal!), and medical tape. Plus, add some basic meds like aceteminophen, ibuprofen, an antihistamine, and a little sewing kit. One thing that we found to be pretty useless was Imodium – just run to the pharmacy and get an actual antibiotic.

Sea to Summit Sleeping Bag Liners— These ultralight silk/cotton blend sleeping bag liners are perfect for sweltering nights. Many hotels in Asia don’t come with bedding – and now that we think about it, most hostels in Australia and New Zealand make you pay extra for these seemingly basic amenities.

There were a couple of things that we weren’t so enthusiastic about:

Gregory Backpacks – I’d love to give these backpacks a glowing review because the design is spot on. Zippers and pockets in all the right places, comfortable fit, and lightweight. However, both plastic supports for the waist belt have cracked on Nate’s pack and the front, most useful zipper has basically disintegrated. We’ll reserve judgment until we contact Gregory and ask for a new one, but it’s not a good feeling to buy a $350 backpack and watch it fall apart in less than a year.

Money belt – We brought these because everything we read seemed to suggest we should have one. Not necessary. I believe our money belts are the only thing we brought along and have not used once. Keep your passport and wallet in a front or zippered pants pocket. If you find yourself in a place where you wish you had your money tucked away near your crotch, perhaps you shouldn’t be there at all.

It’s the everyday things you’re likely to forget, so it’s worth listing off every item in our backpacks. We are quite proud of our packing list. It’s not easy to pack for 16 months abroad, but there’s hardly an item we didn’t use, and nothing we really wished we had brought along.

Clothing

2 synthetic t-shirts

2 cotton t-shirt

2 cotton tank top (Steph)

1 built-in bra tank top (Steph)

1 lightweight cotton long-sleeve shirt

1 nicer lightweight long sleeve

1 warm winter thermal layer

1 fleece jacket

1 jeans

1 lightweight pants

1 sweatpants

1 pair shorts

1 pair knee-length shorts (Steph)

1 athletic shorts

1 pair sneakers

1 bandana

2 pairs warm socks

4 pairs cotton socks

1 regular bra (Steph)

1 sports bra (Steph)

7 underwear (Nate brought 3)

1 rain jacket

2 swim suits (Steph)

Steph bought a dress and a skirt in Thailand, but it took a while to find the right fit. Unless you are 5 feet tall and 95 pounds, it’s worth bringing these things from home. Flip-flops, hats, and sunglasses (of questionable quality) are available everywhere.

Steph's clothes for a year.

Cosmetics 

Sunscreen, razor, shampoo/conditioner, soap, hair ties, tweezers, scissors, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, deodorant, chapstick, nail clippers. Bring any must-have products with you, they’ll either be hard to find or more expensive abroad.

Electronics

power cord

laptop, laptop charger

electronic outlet adapter set (unless you’re bringing appliances you won’t need a volt converter)

camera, lenses, batteries, charger

tripod

iPod, charger

Gear

75 and 95 L Gregory  backpacking packs

smaller Dakine day backpack (Steph)

Dakine Sequence camera backpack (Nate)

sleeping bag, with dry bag stuff sack

Thermarest sleeping pad

1 dry bag for clothing

1 small, absorbant quick-dry towel

headlamp

first aid kit

2 combination locks (didn’t use these much)

Aquamira water purifier

earplugs

1 Pacsafe antitheft bag

We did opt to purchase camping gear (tent, stove, pot, etc) upon landing in Australia. It was really the only way to go as we didn’t want to lug camping gear through Asia for four months. We purchased most items at Anaconda, which was exactly the kind of middle-of-the-road outdoor store we were looking for.

We won’t go through all our ski gear as that’s straightforward and also rather subjective, but it’s worth mentioning Luggage Forward. Getting our skis from Japan to New Zealand without us was a rather tricky and expensive puzzle to solve. Luggage Forward was the cheapest option we could find and conveniently picks up and drops off gear at the doorstep of your choice. If you are planning an equally convoluted trip involving various ski destinations and tropical beaches, we’d recommend it.

1. Possibly the lowest moment of the trip came early on, at the end of five otherwise flawless weeks in Japan. We checked in at the Osaka airport, ready for our long flight to Thailand with a 16-hour layover in China. As we prepared to board, however, the attendant grew confused over our lack of a visa and told us to grab a seat.

The U.S. and Chinese embassies both state that you only needed a visa for layovers exceeding 24 hours, but apparently China Southern operates by different standards. To make the matter even more frustrating, the flight attendant kept tacking “Is that OK?” onto the end of statements that were definitely not OK. As in, “We’re not going to let you on the plane. Is that OK?” or  “You’ll have to buy a new ticket. Is that OK?”

Finally, she told us she would take us out to the front desk so we could discuss a refund. The woman dutifully led us out through customs and the busy airport, and told us to proceed to a counter just around the corner. In fact, there was no one waiting to help us just around the corner. China Southern had packed up its operation for the day, leaving us tricked and abandoned in a busy foreign airport. Many failed phone calls later, it was clear there would be no refund. Time to buy tickets to Thailand… again.

2. Funds were getting uncomfortably low a few months into our Australian road trip, but that was OK, because we were still expecting a nice fat tax return. It seemed to be taking a while, though, so we logged on to the IRS tracking website and quickly discovered where the money was. It had arrived right on time. We’d already spent it, weeks ago.

3. At least after the tax return debacle, we could still expect a tidy sum for the buyback on our car. No such luck. Though we’d had conversations with the folks at Traveler’s Auto Barn after hitting an unfortunate wallaby, they’d assured us that we should just leave the dent in the car and they’d take a reasonable sum off the $1,200 buyback price.

We should have kept in mind that they are, after all, used car dealers. Something that became glaringly obvious when they handed us a check for a measly $400.

4. You may have noticed a common theme up until now. Let’s take a break and review a medley of low moments that generally comes along with Southeast Asian overland travel.

-Getting dropped off on the curb in Bangkok at 3 a.m. at the end of our “overnight” bus ride from Koh Tao.

-Being awoken at approximately 1 a.m. on a bus ride Koh Phi Phi by the loudest, most horrendous music you can imagine. It was time for our “complementary meal.” Which apparently was mandatory.

-Being awoken at approximately 1 a.m. on a bus ride to Vietnam because the bus was mysteriously filling up with noxious engine fumes.

-The 14^th hour of our 14-hour train ride from Sapa to Hanoi. Also, the 11^th, 12^th and 13^th hours were pretty bad.

- All eight hours of an impressively curvy bus ride through northern Laos. Made worse by a killer hangover from a few Beer Lao Darks the night before, and the many locals puking out of windows.

5. Nate’s intense bout of sickness in Bangkok. Along with several hours spent on the bathroom floor, it included a lot of moaning, writhing, and a next-morning statement of “I feel like I didn’t take that like a man.”

6. Up in a remote corner of Australia’s Northern Territory, we woke up one morning to find that our car simply wouldn’t turn on. After a failed jump-start, we hitched a ride to the nearest tiny town, Pine Creek. The town mechanic was nowhere to be found, and a few phone calls revealed that it was going to cost $500 just to tow the car to a shop an hour down the highway. Not good. We spent an hour wandering around the depressing confines of Pine Creek, wondering if this was the end of the road.

Thankfully, that’s not the end of the story. After asking around some more, we were directed to an old guy named Roscoe, who had a yard full of broken down cars and seemed buried in other projects. It wasn’t long before he gave in and kindly agreed to bring us out to our car and got it running. Thank you Roscoe!

7. More recently, we returned from an overnight hike to Brewster Hut, tired, hungry and ready for some relaxation. Instead, we found our car window smashed and many of our belongings missing. They grabbed two bags containing nearly all of Steph’s possessions—clothes, jewelry and souvenirs from Thailand, journal, toiletries, etc.— the tripod and random camera accessories, battery chargers and USB cords, Deborah’s backpack and everything in it. Luckily, everything of real value (passports, wallets, ipods and the Macbook) was safe in the DOC office for a $5 fee.

A few days later, we got a call from the police department—Steph’s pack full of clothing had washed up along the river.  Another somewhat happy ending to some dark times.