Me overlooking Lake Titicaca from Bolivia © Craig Fast
There are three things you need to know about me.

  1. I am a professional travel writer.
  2. I recently returned from a year-long trip.
  3. I’ve taken a vow not to fly for holidays for four years.

Which makes my life as a lover of far-flung exotic destinations rather difficult, don’t you agree? Unfortunately, you can take the girl out of the travels but you can’t take the travels out of the girl, or so the saying goes, I believe.

Feet, Ground: Head, Clouds is about my life post travels: the reintroduction to Real Life (as one of my so-called friends bluntly put it); reconnecting with my friends; living with my mum as I approach 30; being broke; finding a new home; and seeking respectable employment once again.

To help me through, I plan to take a micro approach to travel, finding pleasure in little things, the quirk in the everyday and the joy of holidaying closer to home. This blog is my record of those beauties. Inevitably, because I am something of a seether, there will also be a few rants. Better out than in.

Why no more travels?

My recent trip, faithfully recorded on my website and accompanying blog, led me to the sad conclusion that the best way to travel responsibly is to not travel in aeroplanes. So, I’ve quit flying for a minimum of one year. Beyond that, no flying for three years apart from visits to my partner’s family in Canada. As they say, you can’t choose your partner’s family hometown.

(Please keep reading. I promise this blog won’t be packed too full of crap, half-made-up maxims, although I do confess to something of a penchant for them.)

Emma in Panama City © Craig FastMe

I am lucky enough to live in North Devon, one of the greatest of the semi-sung destinations in Britain. I dwell like a mossy troll at the bottom of a deep, treed valley, a 20 minute walk from the sea on the edge of Exmoor, renowned for it ponies, big cats and excellent ales.

My daily companions are my partner of five years, my mum and stepdad and three dogs: an elderly, deaf but highly intelligent border collie, a Yorkshire terrier with separation anxiety and her young son who comes with a ferociously cute small-man complex.

Welcome to The Next Stage. We’ve all been there. Haven’t we?

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