Welcome
Far From encourages a slow, thoughtful exploration of the world through award‑winning photography, atmospheric storytelling and informed recommendations — blending the practical clarity of a travel blog with the editorial depth of a magazine.
Not everything makes it onto these pages: I’m drawn to the atmospheric, the unsung, the surprising, the fun, the hidden, the authentic, the imaginative and the true.
Because our lives are not listicles. Travel should be inspired, not formulaic — and the most meaningful experiences lie off the tourist map.
Done well, travel becomes a catalyst for change — for laughter, unlearning, and for lasting good.
Think of Far From as a compendium of discoveries: journeys, people and places shaped by the belief that how we travel matters as much as where.
Join me in the search for wonder — far from the crowds and digital noise.
— Nicholas Holt
I’m a photographer and writer who began my travels with a dog-eared Lonely Planet guidebook to South America stuffed into my backpack (which still graces my shelves).
Thirty years on, I still seek out places with that same spirit - under-the-radar destinations, atmospheric hotels, local restaurants - although my travel is more nuanced these days.
I love to make slow journeys in wild places - on foot, by camel, on horseback, or by 4×4 when the distance demands it.
I travel in the company of locals and indigenous people where possible, as this provides the richest experience and gives back to the host communities.
I’m drawn to places where old-world quiet still lingers, but I’m not averse to a dash of luxury and fine dining if the atmosphere is conducive.
My work has appeared in SUITCASE Magazine, The Royal Photographic Society Journal, JRNY, Geographical Magazine and others.
I founded Far From to share my love of inner and outer journeys – the places, and states of mind, that make the hair on my neck stand up.
Nicholas Holt
Photographer | Writer | Creative Director
“When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch. When years described me as mature, the remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle age I was assured greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job. Nothing has worked. Four hoarse blasts of a ships's whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping. The sound of a jet, an engine warming up, even the clopping of shod hooves on pavement brings on the ancient shudder, the dry mouth and vacant eye, the hot palms and the churn of stomach high up under the rib cage. In other words… I fear the disease is incurable.”
― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley
