literature
Travel literature includes guide books, travel memoirs and the curious experiences that happen when you seek adventure.
The Haunts of the Many Writers of Edinburgh
Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, boasts two extinct volcanoes, 13 castles, and more festivals than months of the year. Edinburgh (pronounced Edin-bruh; Edin-burr-uh; or even embra, if you're a Leither) has also been home to a large number of well-known writers across its rich past. The authors of everything from Peter Pan to Trainspotting; Sherlock Holmes to Harry Potter; have called the city home at some point.
By Tay Inkwell7 years ago in Wander
The Ice Sculpture
Daniel had walked little more than a mile from his caravan when he reached the snow-crowned marshes. He laboured across the covered land, bringing his knees up near his waist in order to make a small step forward. The snow tumbled in over the top of his boots and soaked his socks through to his skin. He fought to palm an opening through the clenched branches of brumal trees. Though stray twigs pierced through his gloves and spiked at his hands he proceeded and, eventually, reached the fishing ponds. The dark bark of the surrounding trees was brushed with the gentle frost’s glitter.
By Graeme Williams7 years ago in Wander
The Backpacker
Steve was lost. He had no idea where he was or where he was going. All he knew, was that he was a traveler, a long way from home wandering around this continent aimlessly. The train stopped. A conductor said something to him in a tongue unknown to him. Looking out the window and onto the platform, he realized that this was the end of the line. He picked up his backpack and walked out onto the platform looking around him. Scattered around the place, were other travelers. His eye caught one of them. A young, blonde girl he had seen at the station before boarding the train in Bangkok the previous evening. He had assumed by her appearance that she was either American or Canadian. Nervously, he decided to ask her where he was.
By Oluf Marshall7 years ago in Wander
London's Greatest Literature
Naturally, as an English Literature student, a large portion of my spare time is spent reading books, finishing books, and, of course thinking about the next book I am going to start reading. And yes, the Kindle is a wonderful invention that brings books instantly into your home. But, for me, there is something unique about physically wandering around bookstores in search of a new title. With that being said, where better to wander than the beautiful city of London, with hundreds of quirky stores lining the streets?
By Frankie Rhodes8 years ago in Wander
Cymru
Gold glimmers faintly on the horizon. A blinding light spills a dazzling pathway over the vast, endless ocean—dawn approaches. A new day, a new life draws near. A solitary seagull’s mournful wail echoes in the distant countryside; a tearful song, but I cannot cry. Not now. Not today.
By Megan Angharad8 years ago in Wander
Surfing Surprise
Drowsy, and tasting none other than bad breath, I woke up in the backseat of our family’s grey and slightly cramped suburban. Only a few hours ago, my parents, my siblings, and I decided to go on a day surfing trip with a few of my dad’s friends. We were headed to one of my favorite places, Pacific City. It’s a beach with decent waves and a huge sand dune, that the beach is famous for. Someone once made a rule that when we pass “no-talk-rock,” if any of us talk we’ll have bad luck. You have to be silent until its out of view.
By Lindsey Sarkinen8 years ago in Wander
Journey to the End
I began my journey up the cloud-capped mountain range when the twinkling stars were visibly scattered across the dark midnight sky. Encompassed by the infamous Bluest of Blues Lake, the mountain towered over all things immense and meager in the country. Bordering the footpath to the heap were rows of willow trees. The dark bark on the trees creaked eerily as the wind made the moss colored leaves of the willow hum to it a cry of disheartenment. The willows draped themselves over each other to form a fairytale-like arch over the entrance to the mysterious forest. Nailed to the ground was a wooden sign that simply read:
By Hannah Tanksley8 years ago in Wander
From Eryn Heights
Where to start? Of all the many places in one’s lifetime, why must I be forced to choose from so few of said places? It is so I can relate to others the fruitful experiences that I have witnessed over a short period of time. So if I must choose one place where I learned things that I only fantasized about. The day I separated myself from the daily conformity of life and struck out into the white, untamed, harsh wilderness. I headed out with mild hopes, garbed in a light coat, snow pants, tall boots, and thin gloves, heading towards the wooded valley south of the farmhouse I listened to the sound of my boots steadily grinding out a rhythm in the fresh snow that lay upon the ground. I slowly crossed the plowed field of mud and snow, heading continuously towards the foreboding shadow of the woods on the far side of the field. The icy wind briskly licked my face as I walked onward along the lonely, white escarpment. When I reached the seemingly dark woods I ducked my head into the low overhanging branches and instead of darkness what greeted me was a calm, peaceful woodland. The ground was covered in snow, the sunlight streaming through the trues illuminating every corner of the woods. Giving the woodlands a sense of a beautiful, tranquil, heavenly peace about it. I listened to see if I could hear any sound of wildlife or movement of any type, and I was met with silence, and the soft whisper of the wind upon the snow laden trees. As I ventured further into the woods, I couldn’t help but notice that even as the woods gave the beholder a beautiful atmosphere to witness, I could still feel a certain wild temperance behind it. I was careful in watching my step, so as to avoid creating any severe form of damage upon the undergrowth of the forest, for the way that the fallen leaves and branches made the ground seem as if it disliked being trodden upon. I’ll be frank, there wasn’t entirely too much to see or do within that area, so I moved on till I was faced with a small rivulet running through the trees. I was faced with the decision of either fording the river, building a bridge with fallen branches, or finding a natural stepping stone. Not wanting to get wet, or having to look for long enough branches. I chose the latter option and continued downstream until I found the a large flotilla of fallen branches that perfectly spanned the stream. After a few mistakes in my footing, I finally managed to get across without falling in. Then I went further into the woods to find a place to sit down, and observe the woodlands around me. So I began my search for a tree, or even some tall grass to sit in, then I found it. A tall tree with numerous thick branches perfect for climbing. Shortly after a few times of falling out, I got into a high branch and looked out; The treetops were slowly swaying in the wind as it whistled through the canopy, the branches were laden with snow, the sky was light grey like those in winter, the Ground shone from the sun as it reflected off of its surface. As I sat there amidst its beauty, I couldn’t help but think about what would happen if I was to be killed in this world of white, what would happen if all of a sudden I was to be taken from this untamed world of white into the darkness between worlds and then emerge on the other side, in a radiant world where I will feel no suffering or exhaustion? Who would care? How would it affect my friends? Would anyone even think to mourn my death? As these thoughts raced through my mind I started to head back towards the house I thought 'how does something so beautiful, lead to death?' That is one of life’s biggest mysteries, how things that appear so calm, yet so wild beneath can kill a person.
By Christopher Grenchik8 years ago in Wander
