Guides from across the planet talk about the benefits and drawbacks of taking tourists around some of the world's most scenic and beautiful but difficult terrain
Torfi G Yngvasson, Iceland
The worst thing about being a guide is when people are not prepared for the weather. We like to say there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad equipment. I haven't had any disasters resulting in injury – at least nothing that won't heal in a fortnight or so. But funny moments and blunders are endless; this is a job that provides a stream of good memories and friendship. Locking myself out of the car in a mind-numbing blizzard in a lava field in the early evening; taking folks hiking over a mountain when they thought they were going rafting (language barrier); being stranded on a glacier in a blizzard (yes, we have a few of those in winter) with a broken-down car full of journalists for 16 hours …
The river Hvítá in southern Iceland is my favourite place for white-water rafting; the Thorsmörk highland valley is best for hiking – especially trekking there from Landmannalaugar hot springs; and I love snorkelling between the continents in Silfra [a rift between the Eurasian and North American continental tectonic plates] in Thingvellir national park. I'd also recommend a visit to the "crawling glaciers" of Sólheimajökull or Vatnajökull to hike across on the ice – you won't be able to do that for much longer as they are rapidly retreating. Finally, I suggest taking a SuperJeep (superjeep.is) tour into the highlands, searching for the northern lights.
• Torfi G Yngvasson is CEO and owner of Arctic Adventures (adventures.is) in Iceland. Discover the World's Iceland trips feature many of Arctic Adventures' excursions, discover-the-world.co.uk
Tulga Otgonbaatar, Mongolia
When I became a guide in the early 1990s I had no training at all. The director of the tour company – one of only two in Mongolia at the time – gave me a two-hour lecture, mainly on what not to do. I learned from my mistakes.
There were four Swiss people on my first trip. I met them at the airport and said: "Hi guys." They started laughing and I asked if there was anything wrong but they said: "No, no problem." After two days, one of them came to me and said: "Tulga, guys means 'goats' in our language." I felt terrible as I remembered saying to my clients: "Let's go, goats." "It is lunchtime, goats." Later in the trip they were disappointed because they were meant to see an ice gorge in the Gobi desert that doesn't melt all year round, but the ice was gone in the middle of July. They wanted half their money back.
Once I took a client to watch the horse racing at the Naadam festival. We were standing near the finishing line as the horses approached. Suddenly, a horse fell down and a guy from the crowd ran towards it and started kicking it in the chest. A policeman rushed over but instead of stopping the guy he joined in, kicking the horse even harder. Finally, the horse stood up. My client's eyes were so big and round and shocked. He asked me why they had kicked the horse. I explained that blocked air is released if you kick a horse's chest. He was so relieved; he'd thought the men had put their money on that particular horse and were punishing him for not winning!
I once guided a family with an autistic son around Mongolia, and the boy got so much better there. There was a documentary made about it, called The Horse Boy. Since then I have guided other autistic children, and the kids keep getting better and better.
There are lots of places to visit in Mongolia: the Gobi desert, far-western Mongolia, Ghengis Khan's birthplace. The taiga is a well-watered area in north Mongolia, on the southern edge of Siberia, with mountains. Reindeer herders still live in their tipis in the mountains here. These people are so special – they still practise shamanism, herd their reindeer, know all about wild flowers – and the scenery is stunning.
• Tulga Otgonbaatar works for Wild Frontiers, wildfrontiers.co.uk
Ngima Gellzen, Nepal
I was born in a village called Loding in the lower Khumbu region of eastern Nepal. Just above my village there is a small mountain called Pike Peak. I used to watch the trekkers going through my village to the peak, and that was when I first wanted to become a guide. My secondary school was in Junbesi, which is on the old trekking path from Kathmandu to Everest base camp. This is the way Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay walked on their way to climb Everest in 1953. We learned about them at school, and it made a big impression on me.
My first trip as a lead guide was in 2001, a 55-day trek from Jiri, a village in the north-east, to Everest base camp. On the way back to Kathmandu we crossed the difficult Tashi Lapsa pass (5,614m) into the Rolwaling valley. We had very heavy snowfall on the Tashi Lapsa, and one of our porters had to be rescued by helicopter because he got frostbite and snow-blindness.
We have many beautiful places in Nepal but my favourite trek is up Mera Peak (6,476m). It lies in the eastern part of the Khumbu region, south-east of Everest. This mountain is the highest "trekking peak" (climbable mountain under 7,000m) in Nepal: from the summit you can see five mountains above 8,000m, including Everest.
After Mera Peak I would recommend the Annapurna circuit from Besisahar to Nayapul, because it is a combination of adventure and panoramic scenery. You will see different ethnic tribes and a huge variety of landscapes, and you get to cross the challenging Thorong La pass (5,416m).
• Ngima Gellzen Sherpa works for Exodus, exodus.co.uk
Jose Ugarte, Peru
In 1987 I was living in Lima and working in a pen factory. During my holidays an old friend who was working as a river guide took me on a three-day expedition on the great Apurímac river in southern Peru. From day one I was hooked – I fell in love with adventure and the wilderness. Later that same year, after many months of training, I guided my first group. In those days we used "bucket boats". Unlike modern self-bailing river rafts, these had to be constantly bailed, so the most important piece of equipment on board was the bucket.
Ten years and many river expeditions later, including trips on the Bío-Bío in Chile and the Colorado river in the US, I had an accident. One of my hands was so badly injured it was impossible for me to continue as a rafting captain. A friend suggested I use my legs rather than my arms, and this was the start of my life as a trek leader. Within months I was working as an assistant guide on trekking expeditions in the Vilcabamba and Vilcanota, the great mountain ranges of southern Peru. A year later I joined my first group as the main trek leader, on a 22-day trekking and touring trip around Peru and Bolivia, and I have been doing the job ever since.
I haven't had any disasters yet, but I have dealt with lots of problems – some challenging and others funny. For example, there was the time when local shepherds wouldn't sell us a sheep (the usual meat supply in the mountains), only a very noisy turkey, and the group voted on whether to eat it or give it its freedom. We decided eight to seven to eat it …
Then there was the time when it snowed on the Inca Trail, where snow is as rare as a hen with teeth. The combination of snow and sun made for blinding conditions, and we had to improvise sunglasses out of the silver "bladders" inside our wine boxes. Of course, we had to drink the wine first and it was a bizarre sight to see a bunch of slightly merry trekkers and porters wearing strange silver carnival masks high in the mountains.
I love watching people react to arriving at the top of a 5,000m pass or hiking in the late afternoon into an Inca site, such as Choquequirao or Machu Picchu. It is much better to arrive at a place after a few hours of walking than after a comfortable car journey.
• Jose Ugarte works for World Expeditions, worldexpeditions.co.uk