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After travelling to over seventy countries and living in five, the author distills the best undiscovered destinations and shares insider advice. Searching for Unique is meant for travellers seeking hidden sights that most people overlook or simply do not know exist.

Join the author for an evening talk that explores lesser-known destinations from her second book and delves into on-the-ground insights that cut through fear and build curiosity about our diverse planet.​

Gain an insight into what another reader thought of Dust in My Pack.
Jennie Rosenblum has read a lot of books, so scroll through her many reviews for more books that might grab your interest.

Our particular route via the Schiesser Ledges to the Alpine Club of Canada's Neil Colgan Hut - Canada's highest, permanent habitable structure - had turned from a scramble into a low-grade climb. And I was a novice mountaineer quickly flying past my zone of comfort. ​

Have you ever dreamed of quitting work and travelling the world for a year? Well, I have done it and am about to tell you how you can too in three key steps.

Excerpt taken from Dust in My Pack by Nancy O'Hare

“Personalities seemed exposed here. In fact, one of my favourite carvings was of a cranky old man. He rested nearby, beside Temple Eleven. His chiselled face emerged from a stone block about a metre square in size—with details including a bandana tied around his head, wrinkles, a furrowed brow and a couple of missing teeth. This effigy was aptly named El Anciano (“The Old Man”).”

03:50 am - I tore open the Starbucks' instant coffee sachet, lazily cursing the missing component for the camping-style French press that sat cold and empty on the kitchen shelf.

04:32 am - Crunch. I glanced around at the darkness that surrounded our team of five before quickly looking back to the ground. The gravelly trail wound around the creek and led us away from the Stanley Mitchell hut where I had eventually grasped about three hours of sleep. Blackness hid the peaks above. The pathway remained flat - for now.

It reminded me of thunder, but it was a different type of crash. One of the fingers of drifting ice that grasp these peaks had lost a chunk of its icy tips. Fog rolled in. Its white puff slithered across the slate-coloured mountain range, and the fusion of light and dark merged into a haunting aura.​ ​