Daredevil Drinking

During my vicarious travels across the globe, I keep digging up potential destinations to add to my list. The world's most far-flung watering holes make a worthy addition!!

OLD FORGE PUBLIC HOUSE
Knoydart Peninsula, Scotland
The Knoydart Peninsula pokes out from Scotland's west coast, flanked by Loch Nevis (Gaelic for "Heaven Lake") and Loch Hourn ("Hell Lake") . . . which would appear to place the Old Forge in purgatory. In fact, it's a sublime spot, a revamped blacksmith's forge and inn that's perched on the coast seven miles by boat from the tiny fishing village of Mallaig, where crucial pub supplies arrive three times a week. You can get there by boat, but the classic way is an 18-mile east-west trek over 3,500-foot mountains.


SUGARLOAF KIOSK
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
To reach the summit of 1,296-foot Pão de Açúcar ("Sugarloaf"), you can go the easy way (riding a 75-passenger cable car) or the hard way (multipitch rock climbing). Either way, you'll be rewarded at the top with a tall caipirinha—a blend of ice, sugar, lime, and cachaça, a Brazilian alcohol made from distilled sugarcane. Impress the tourists by climbing Italianos, a bolted 5.9 route that rises 810 feet along the monolith's west face.

ZULUNKHUNI RIVER LODGE
Lake Malawi, Malawi
On the northern shore of Africa's vast and forest-rimmed Lake Malawi, there's an unusual lodge: four thatched huts next to a bar and restaurant built into a rock cave near a waterfall. Getting to the so-called Where Are We? Lodge requires a five-hour trek from Usisya, the closest road-accessible village, or a five-hour ferry ride north from Nkhata Bay. There's no electricity, so the bar's vodka-filled watermelons are kept chilled in a kerosene icebox.

LABAN RATA RESTHOUSE
Mount Kinabalu, Borneo, Malaysia
At 13,455 feet, Mount Kinabalu is the highest peak on the Malaysian island of Borneo. To reach the top, you'll hike for two days among orchids and 290 species of birds. Halfway up, stop for an overnight respite at Laban Rata, a 60-bunk hostel with electricity, showers, heated rooms, and a restaurant that serves hot noodles and cold beer.

ALBATROSS BAR
Tristan da Cunha Island, South Atlantic Ocean
There's no airport on the British-controlled island of Tristan da Cunha, 1,750 miles west of Cape Town, South Africa, so pretty much the only way to get there is via a seven-day ride aboard a crawfish trawler. A 2001 hurricane ripped the roof off the Albatross—the island's lone bar—but the village's 280 locals banded together to repair it. By September 2004, the no-frills establishment had reopened for business, complete with a snooker table, locally made crisps, and pints of beer.

PHANTOM RANCH
Grand Canyon, Arizona
Descend 5,000 feet and 9.5 miles on the South Rim's Bright Angel Trail and you'll arrive at a wooden oasis that isn't a mirage—it's the famous Phantom Ranch, since 1922 the only lodge operating below the canyon rim. In the rustic dining room, you'll be treated to cold Tecate (hauled in by trusty mules) and spicy beef stew. Afterwards, retreat to a private cabin or camp nearby; same-day hiking down and up with a bellyful of beer is not advised.

LA PAELLA
Tapana Island, Kingdom of Tonga
Rent a sailboat in the South Pacific town of Neiafu—in Tonga's Vavau island group—and follow the winds three hours to Tapana, a remote, four-square-mile island. Besides one native Tongan, the only residents are Eduardo and Maria Mejias, two Spanish expatriates who run a restaurant they built from driftwood. Call ahead to let them know you're coming, and they'll serve paella cooked over a fire, Spanish tapas, and all the sangria you can drink.

BOB MARLEY RASTA RESTAURANT & REGGAE BAR
Muktinath, Nepal
Buddhists and Hindus make the pilgrimage to Muktinath, in the Nepalese Himalayas, to bathe in the 108 fountains that are believed to bring salvation after death. Everyone else goes for the beer and music. Welcome to the Bob Marley Rasta Restaurant & Reggae Bar, elevation 12,470 feet. From Kathmandu, you'll trek six days to the town of Jomsom and then spend a day acclimatizing before climbing 3,500 feet up to Muktinath. A Jamaican flag hangs next to Tibetan prayer flags, and the owner's son plays "Get Up, Stand Up" on his guitar. If you're tired, it's OK to stay seated.

Jaadu ki jhappi of a different sort!

It was just another day at work. Me drinking coffee and tea by turns, at regular intervals, intermittent excursions on the internet and the phone of a purely unofficial nature, keeping an ear and eye open for anything gossip-worthy-all the essentials of a productive work day.

The city being in the throes of colorful and euphoric upheaval as Lord Ganesha made his yearly journey back to his heavenly abode after a brief sojourn amongst mortals, the work day ended earlier than usual.

A colleague and me ended a brief bout of cogitation by finding refuge in the dictum "When in doubt, watch a movie." Our destination: the local "multiplex for the masses" which goes by the colloquialised nickname of "Gaity-Galaxy", officially known as G7. One of the few remaining bastions of "black-marketeering" of movie tickets in a city over-ridden by obscenely overpriced multiplex cinemas, with popcorn costing its weight in gold. Well, almost.

Having got into an auto-rickshaw, we find ourselves getting driven along at top-speed by a rather talkative auto-wallah who loses no time in updating us on the latest traffic situation. Displaying apt business acumen, he zeroes in on our need to reach the cinema in time for the evening show. "Madam, aapko Gaity-Galaxy shortcut se chalne ka?" comes the irresistible offer from the auto-wallah's croney, who's been perched on the edge of the driver's seat all the while. And while, I'm still trying to figure out which of the grand total of one route to G7 can be termed as a short-cut, the auto-wallah sees it fit to make the decision for us. Soon enough, we find ourselves winding through hitherto unknown paths almost completely obscured by undergrowth, running right next to the local train tracks. We jostle along, surprising a lethargic cow mid-chew and a group of urchins engrossed in the democratic sport of gully-cricket. And before I can say "Lage raho munnabhai", we are anchored next to a gate adjoining the railway tracks. Our heroic auto-wallah and his friend clearly exulting in the feeling of having shared their superior knowledge of the bylanes, seem to think their duty is not yet over.

At my mild suggestion that a misled train or two might speed past us during our attempts to cross the tracks, my auto-wallah gallantly says, "Madam, kaiko tension lene ka? Hum aapko cross karaake aata hai." At which announcement, we are safely escorted to the other side of the tracks by the chilvalrous autowalla and his friend. We reach the other side and there's G7 right before us. A true-blue shortcut this.

I turn back to see our chaperones ducking under the gates and crossing the tracks on their way back.

I smile to myself.