Maps tell stories of the landscape, and the history of the hills, rivers and the human endeavour. They also tell of trips we’ve done.

My map of Alaska’s Denali National Park evokes memories of camping at the park’s most remote campground where I waited for the cloud to clear so I could see North America’s highest mountain. I got a brief glimpse, and was blown away by the size of Denali compared to the surrounding peaks. The trip was also memorable for a close encounter with a moose (again I was taken aback at the size!). Bears were viewed from the safety of the park bus. 

My map of Sweden’s Fullufjället National Park reminds me of the most remote border crossing I ever did. A sign simply said ‘Norway’, so I can say I have visited the country, albeit briefly. I also did early, tentative attempts at off-track travel there. The wide-open spaces made it easy, so I practised using map and compass. A later trip to the Spanish Pyrenees revealed that I actually knew next to nothing about both of these tools. That map reminds me of naivety and hubris.

My favourite overseas map is of the Italian Alps. I hiked in the Valle d’Aosta with a friend who lived there. We lit a fire and slept beneath the stars and climbed to Rifugio Guide di Valle d’Ayasat at 3420m. It’s the highest I’ve even been and I got a mild case of altitude sickness. 

My dog-eared Tongariro National Park maps have seen plenty of action: the Northern Circuit, Alpine Crossing, a west–east traverse of Ruapehu and a descent of Waihohonu Ridge.  ‘X’ marks the spot where I camped on the Summit Plateau one winter. 

Mapsheets CB09 and CJ09 hold memories of Rakiura’s Southern Circuit and visiting the country’s most southern DOC hut at Doughboy Bay. That was a muddy trip – up to my thighs at times on the section near Adams Hill. 

Turn to p38 where our writers share their best trips on the best-selling Topo50 maps. Maybe afterwards you’ll reflect on your own map stories. If so, drop me a line: I’d love to hear them.