There are places so quiet you can hear snowflakes landing on your jacket, or waves hiss along a beach where no footprints linger. If you crave that kind of solitude—space to breathe, think, and feel small in all the best ways—remote travel can be deeply rewarding. It also asks more of you: patience, preparation, and a willingness to meet landscapes on their terms. This guide blends inspiration with practical detail, so you can turn the dream of being far away into a trip that’s safe, respectful, and unforgettable.
What “remote” really means
Distance alone doesn’t define remoteness. Some places sit a few dozen miles from a city but may be separated by mountains, rough seas, or lack of roads. Others take days to reach because transport is scarce or weather-dependent. Expect:
- Sparse infrastructure. No cell service, limited medical care, and very few places to buy supplies.
- Weather as gatekeeper. Flights cancel. Ferries don’t sail. Trails vanish in snow or flood.
- A slower cadence. You wait, you adapt, and you often carry what you need.
Remote travel rewards those who aren’t in a hurry. Build flexibility into your plan and respect the limits that keep these places wild.
Planning for remoteness without drama
A quiet corner of the planet shouldn’t turn into an epic for the wrong reasons. A few fundamentals make the difference.
- Risk and rescue. Buy evacuation-grade travel insurance that covers remote regions and adventure activities you’ll actually do (trekking above certain altitudes, small-boat travel, glacier work). Carry a satellite communicator (Garmin inReach, ZOLEO) and know how to trigger SOS and send coordinates. Leave a detailed route plan with someone at home.
- Fitness and skills. Remote doesn’t always mean extreme, but you’ll handle terrain, cold, heat, or long days better if you’re prepared. For self-supported trips, learn map-and-compass navigation, water treatment, and basic backcountry first aid. On glaciers or packrafting rivers, go guided unless you have current technical skills.
- Gear you’ll be grateful for. Think layering systems, windproof shells, robust boots, water purification, a sleep system rated for expected lows (and then a bit colder), and a shelter that laughs at weather. Add spare batteries, a power bank, and redundant fire-starting. In the tropics, pack sun protection and a mosquito strategy worthy of the name.
- Food and fuel. Don’t assume you can buy what you forgot. In many remote regions you’ll be limited to basic staples (rice, lentils, canned fish). For stoves, research available fuel types. Carry extra in case weather delays your exit.
- Respect and responsibility. Learn local customs, ask permission before photographing people, and follow Leave No Trace principles rigorously. In fragile ecosystems—polar, alpine, desert—a single careless shortcut can scar a place for decades.
Remote places worth the effort
Below are destinations that deliver real solitude. They vary from hard-to-reach islands to trackless tundra and mountain valleys where days pass without meeting another traveler. For each, you’ll find the feel of the place, routes in, best times, and on-the-ground realities.
East Greenland’s Scoresby Sund and Ittoqqortoormiit
Greenland’s east coast is a jagged puzzle of fjords, icebergs, and alpine walls. Scoresby Sund, the world’s largest fjord system, feels like a private planet. You’ll watch ice the size of apartment blocks turn coral at midnight light, with narwhals and musk oxen as occasional company.
How to get there: The gateway is generally via Reykjavík (Iceland) to Nerlerit Inaat (Constable Point), often with logistics supported by local operators. From there, it’s small boat or expedition ship to reach deeper fjords and Ittoqqortoormiit.
When to go: August to early September offers navigation among icebergs, stable weather, and migrating wildlife. Earlier in summer, pack ice can block access.
On the ground: There are no roads between settlements. Travel is by boat or on foot. Camping is common; guided expeditions manage polar bear protocols. Weather can swing from calm to gale in hours.
Permits and safety: Polar bears are an uncommon but real hazard—go with an experienced guide if you’re not trained. A rifle is standard for guides; flare deterrents are common. Satellite comms are essential.
Tristan da Cunha, South Atlantic
The world’s most remote inhabited island sits roughly halfway between South Africa and South America. Fewer than 250 residents make up Edinburgh of the Seven Seas, ringed by cliffs and the Atlantic.
How to get there: There’s no airport. Reach Tristan by hitching a berth on a fishing vessel or occasional expedition ship from Cape Town—expect 5–7 days at sea each way and limited sailing windows.
When to go: Austral summer (October–April) has the best chance of calmer seas and island access. Trips are booked months ahead and often waitlisted.
On the ground: Walking tracks lead to lava fields and nesting seabirds. There’s one small shop and simple guesthouses. Weather changes fast, and landing by zodiac is often at the captain’s discretion.
Permits and safety: Visitors need prior approval from the island council. Medical care is basic; evacuations are complex. Bring medications for the entire stay plus buffer days.
Chile’s Aysén Region and the Southern Icefield
South of Patagonia’s headline parks lies Aysén, a labyrinth of forests, fjords, and the Northern and Southern Patagonian Icefields. It’s where dirt tracks meet hanging glaciers and turquoise rivers tumble through empty valleys.
How to get there: Fly to Balmaceda (via Santiago) and rent a 4×4 for the Carretera Austral. To approach the Southern Icefield (Campo de Hielo Sur), arrange logistics via Villa O’Higgins or Puerto Edén with specialized guides.
When to go: December to March for hiking, packrafting, and gravel-road touring. Shoulder seasons are windier and wetter, with more road closures.
On the ground: Expect long distances between fuel, limited ATMs, and many gravel stretches. Camping is plentiful, with wild camps possible—respect private estancias and national park rules.
Permits and safety: Some glacier approaches require permits and guide accompaniment. Weather is famously moody; pack bombproof rain gear and cache extra food in case ferry or road delays strand you.
Mongolia’s Altai and the Western Steppe
Mongolia’s west blends snow-laced peaks with golden steppe and lakes clear as glass. Eagle hunter families still ride these valleys, and nights deliver starfields undimmed by any town.
How to get there: Fly into Ulaanbaatar, then onward to Ulgii (Bayan-Ölgii). Hire a local driver with a rugged van, and, ideally, an interpreter. Self-driving is possible if you’re comfortable navigating by tracks and river crossings.
When to go: June to September brings passable tracks and moderate temperatures. Early spring is windy and harsh; winter is severe.
On the ground: Homestays and ger camps dot the region but are spaced far apart. Bring cash; card payments are rare. Expect goat paths rather than trails—travel is often by vehicle, horseback, or on foot.
Permits and safety: Some border areas require special permits, arranged in Ulaanbaatar or Ulgii. Water sources are abundant but treat everything. Pack layers for 30°C days and near-freezing nights.
Namibia’s Skeleton Coast and Kaokoveld
Shipwrecks half-swallowed by dunes, fog rolling off a frigid ocean, and desert lions padding across gravel plains—this is the Skeleton Coast. North into Kaokoveld, you’ll find Himba villages and empty, lunar landscapes.
How to get there: Fly into Windhoek, rent a high-clearance 4×4 with dual fuel tanks, and drive via Swakopmund to Cape Cross and the Skeleton Coast Park. For the remote far north, consider a fly-in lodge or guided overland convoy.
When to go: May to October for dry, cooler travel and clearer roads. Fog is common year-round along the coast.
On the ground: Fuel, water, and supplies thin out quickly. Driving is on salt and gravel; tire punctures are common. Wildlife has right of way—dark nights and stray animals make night driving risky.
Permits and safety: Park permits are required and controlled for some sectors. Coastal fog plus sand tracks can scramble navigation—GPS and paper maps both help. Carry extra water; dehydration sneaks up.
Alaska’s Gates of the Arctic and the Noatak
Above the Arctic Circle, these wild lands hold river valleys that go days without human footprints. Caribou herds stitch across tundra, and the Brooks Range folds into horizon after horizon of ridges.
How to get there: Fly to Fairbanks, then hop a small plane to Bettles, Anaktuvuk Pass, or Kotzebue. From there, charter a bush plane drop-off for backpacking or packrafting.
When to go: Late June through August for open rivers and tundra travel. September colors are spectacular, with increased chance of snow.
On the ground: No roads, no trails, no facilities. You carry in and out everything. River trips like the Noatak or Alatna are classics for those comfortable with cold water and bear country.
Permits and safety: Bear-aware protocols are non-negotiable; hard-sided bear canisters are standard. Mosquitoes can be legendary—bring headnets and serious repellent. Whiteouts and swollen rivers can delay pick-ups; tailor your food accordingly.
Bhutan’s Snowman Trek and the Lunana
A high Himalayan traverse known as one of the world’s toughest treks, the Snowman crosses multiple 5,000-meter passes and wanders through remote yak pastures and villages that see few outsiders.
How to get there: All travelers must book through a Bhutanese-licensed operator; independent travel isn’t permitted. Fly to Paro via Delhi, Kathmandu, or Bangkok, then transfer by road to the trek start.
When to go: Post-monsoon window from late September to early November is preferred. Spring is possible but more prone to snow on high passes.
On the ground: This is a fully supported expedition with pack animals, cook staff, and guides. Days are long, nights very cold, and altitude is constant companion. Rest days matter.
Permits and safety: You’ll need a trek permit in addition to Bhutan’s visa and Sustainable Development Fee. Acute mountain sickness is a real risk; choose an operator known for conservative pacing and contingency planning.
Nepal’s Upper Dolpo and Shey Phoksundo
North of the main Himalayan spine lies Dolpo, culturally Tibetan with windswept monasteries, turquoise lakes, and trails that weave through rock deserts to remote villages like Saldang.
How to get there: Kathmandu to Nepalgunj by plane, then to Juphal (Dolpo) if weather cooperates. From there, it’s foot travel with mules and a support team.
When to go: Late spring and autumn offer stable weather and open passes. Monsoon turns trails slick and risky.
On the ground: Expect multi-week itineraries. Teahouses are limited; tents are the norm. You’ll see few trekkers but many mule trains.
Permits and safety: Restricted area permits apply and require traveling with a licensed guide. Pack a reliable water filter and spare purification tablets; gastrointestinal illness derails too many treks.
Svalbard, High Arctic Norway
More polar bear than people, a capital with only a few thousand residents, and glaciers that pour to the sea—Svalbard offers Arctic remoteness with a thin thread of connection.
How to get there: Flights connect Oslo or Tromsø to Longyearbyen. From there, join boat expeditions or snowmobile/ski trips deeper into the archipelago.
When to go: March–May for winter light and snow travel; June–August for ship-based wildlife and hiking on snow-free ground. Polar day or night dominates, depending on season.
On the ground: Beyond town, you must carry a rifle or travel with an armed guide for bear protection. Cabins and emergency shelters exist but aren’t a plan—always be self-sufficient.
Permits and safety: Some areas have access restrictions to protect wildlife. Weather flips quickly; fog shuts down flights. Treat sea ice and crevasses with utmost caution.
Socotra, Indian Ocean
Dragon’s blood trees sprout like alien chandeliers, beaches glow white and empty, and limestone plateaus cut across wadis. Socotra is remote both geographically and culturally, with biodiversity found nowhere else.
How to get there: Access varies by season and geopolitics. At time of writing, charter flights run from the UAE on limited schedules with local operators. Most trips are guided and camp-based.
When to go: October to April avoids the fierce khareef winds. Summer sees intense monsoon gusts that close beaches and roads.
On the ground: Infrastructure is basic. Expect camping, simple meals, and 4×4 travel on rough tracks. You’ll encounter few other travelers; leave the island as you found it.
Permits and safety: Security situations change; consult current advisories and work with reputable operators. Carry cash; cards aren’t widely accepted. Respect local dress norms, especially in villages.
The Kimberley, Northwestern Australia
A sandstone world incised by rivers and studded with boab trees, the Kimberley stretches between Broome, Derby, and Kununurra. Waterfalls tumble into red gorges, crocodiles bask on sandbars, and nights crackle with the clearest stars.
How to get there: Fly into Broome or Kununurra and tackle the Gibb River Road in a 4×4, or join a small-ship coastal cruise to reach remote bays and Montgomery Reef.
When to go: Dry season from May to September. Wet season brings spectacular waterfalls but impassable roads and stifling heat.
On the ground: Long distances between fuel and supplies. Gorge walks can be exposed and hot—start early. Freshwater and saltwater crocodiles inhabit many waterways; swim only where clearly safe.
Permits and safety: Some gorges and stations require permits or fees; indigenous-owned lands may need permission. Carry ample water, a sat communicator, and tire repair gear. Respect seasonal road closures.
Baffin Island and Auyuittuq National Park, Nunavut
Granite walls knife up from glacier-cut fjords. The Akshayuk Pass trail feels like a hallway through mountains that never end, flanked by slabs like Thor Peak that climbers dream about.
How to get there: Fly to Iqaluit, then to Pangnirtung or Qikiqtarjuaq. Outfitters in town can help arrange boat shuttles, bear fences, and rentals.
When to go: July to August for backpacking. Earlier, snow and ice persist; later, storms roll in and daylight shortens.
On the ground: Expect boggy sections, braided river crossings, and no marked trails. Winds can flatten tents. Inuit communities are welcoming; learn a few words and travel respectfully.
Permits and safety: Park permits required. The terrain is polar bear country—carry deterrents and consider renting an electric bear fence for camps. River levels swell with melt; build extra days into your plan.
Knoydart Peninsula, Scottish Highlands
You don’t need to cross an ocean to feel far away. Knoydart, reachable only by foot or boat, offers a rugged mix of sea lochs, peat bogs, and mountains, with a tiny community at Inverie.
How to get there: Ferry from Mallaig to Inverie or hike in via Glenfinnan or Kinloch Hourn. Weather windows matter even here.
When to go: April to September for longer days. Midges appear from late spring—bring headnets and repellent.
On the ground: Bothy culture thrives—simple shelters open to walkers. Trails can vanish into bog; gaiters and waterproof boots are sanity savers. The pint at the village pub tastes better for the effort.
Permits and safety: No special permits, but practice robust hill skills and check mountain forecasts. Carry paper maps; batteries die in rain.
Fiordland’s Dusky Track, New Zealand
Fiordland is a cathedral of rain-carved stone and moss. The seldom-walked Dusky Track threads 84 kilometers through wetlands, mountain passes, and dense bush between Lake Hauroko and Lake Manapouri.
How to get there: Access often involves a boat drop at Lake Hauroko and pickup at Lake Manapouri. Minimal signage, many roots, and frequent mud define the experience.
When to go: December to April. Even then, record rainfall and river surges are common.
On the ground: Huts dot the route but can be days apart. Expect waist-deep mud in places, wire bridges, and long days. You’ll likely meet no one for stretches.
Permits and safety: Hut passes required. Fiordland weather is a masterclass in humility—build contingency days and carry a PLB. Sandflies are relentless; cover up and carry repellent.
St Helena, South Atlantic
Once reachable only by mail ship, St Helena now has a small airport linking it to Johannesburg. The island’s basalt cliffs, cloud forests, and Napoleonic history sit in an ocean-size moat of calm.
How to get there: Weekly or twice-weekly flights (schedules vary). Supplies arrive by ship, and the island moves to that rhythm.
When to go: Year-round, with May to October offering cooler temps and good hiking conditions.
On the ground: Hike the Post Box walks, snorkel with gentle whale sharks in season, and explore the cloud forest of Diana’s Peak. Tourism is small-scale and community-driven.
Permits and safety: None special, but book accommodation well ahead—beds are limited. Card acceptance is mixed; carry cash for small vendors.
Choosing the right kind of solitude
“Remote” spans a spectrum. Matching your destination to your comfort and curiosity makes the trip. A few ways to filter:
- Temperature tolerance. Do you dream in polar blues or desert gold? Gear and planning differ drastically.
- Self-sufficiency vs. support. Some thrive on carrying everything; others want a guide and a cup of tea at day’s end. Both are valid.
- Time budget. Tristan da Cunha can eat three weeks with ocean crossings; Knoydart fits a long weekend with the right weather.
- Cultural immersion. Dolpo and Mongolia offer deep human connection amid big landscapes. Polar zones skew toward nature-led solitude.
Practical tips that make remote travel work
- Build elastic itineraries. Add buffer days at both ends. Don’t stitch connections tightly; weather will laugh.
- Learn a handful of local phrases. Smiles go far, but greeting someone in their language opens doors.
- Go light, not fragile. Cut weight where you can, but never skimp on shelter, insulation, or navigation.
- Cache backups. Redundant water treatment, a spare headlamp, and extra stove lighter weigh little and save trips.
- Eat for morale. Tuck in a few treats—good coffee, a favorite snack. Spirit matters in wild places.
- Record responsibly. Geotagging sensitive sites invites crowds—consider sharing memories without pinpoints, especially for fragile environments.
Traveling responsibly in fragile places
Remote ecosystems break slowly and heal even slower. Your best contribution is to pass quietly and leave little behind.
- Waste: Pack out everything, including toilet paper in arid and alpine zones. In polar or desert environments, consider a portable toilet system or WAG bags.
- Wildlife: Watch with patience and distance. If an animal changes behavior, you’re too close. Binoculars beat zoom lenses for ethical views.
- Water: Camps a good distance from lakes and streams keep shorelines healthy. Soaps—even biodegradable—don’t belong in the water.
- Culture: Ask before entering sacred sites or photographing ceremonies. Buy local where possible—guides, drivers, crafts—so the community benefits.
Final thoughts
Solitude isn’t the absence of the world; it’s a clearer conversation with it. Whether you find your quiet in a high-latitude fjord, a wind-etched desert, or the shadow of a granite wall, the best remote trips are the ones you meet with humility and care. Go with eyes open, calendar loose, and kit dialed. The reward is a kind of silence that lingers long after you’re home.
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