The Russell-Smiths: An Ordinary Family Chasing Extraordinary Moments
We’re the Russell-Smiths.
John (a Geography teacher), Martina (a Primary teacher), and our two wild boys: Ben, the sport-obsessed big brother, and Will, our cheeky, singing, just-as-sporty younger one. If you scroll through our Instagram, @familyrussellsmithtravel, you won’t find staged luxury resorts or perfectly curated outfits. You’ll find backpacks, muddy boots, sunburnt noses, airport floors we’ve napped on, and big, messy, honest grins.
But behind all those snapshots sits a deeper why, a how, and a mission.
How It Started — From Two Wanderers to Four
Before the boys came along, it was just the two of us, meeting on the slopes of the Remarkables in Queenstown, New Zealand. We were young, curious, and head-over-heels in love with mountains…. and each other. Those snow-peaked landscapes shaped us. They taught us to chase moments, not things.
We backpacked through South America, slept in hostels, tasted foods we couldn’t pronounce, and realised that travel wasn’t something we did but it was who we were. We married on a beach in Sri Lanka, honeymooned through Southern Africa, and eventually returned to the UK determined to build a life filled with time, experiences, and purpose.
And when Ben, and later Will arrived, we didn’t stop. We strapped them on, packed them in, and brought them along.
One of our first big trips as a four was to Bali, Indonesia when Will was only six months old. We sweated through rice terraces with a baby carrier and a toddler who refused to wear shoes and we learned early that family travel doesn’t depend on “choosing the right countries.” It depends on your attitude. Some days are chaos, but most are magic.
Why We Travel — Way Beyond Destinations
Travel, for us, is education. As teachers, we believe the world is the greatest classroom.
Our lessons happen everywhere: in a Kyrgyz yurt, on a Nepali trail, in a Maldivian reef, at a Turkish bazaar, in a South African game reserve. The boys learn patience, resilience, humility, culture, and curiosity far from screens and routines.
And we the parents learn too. To slow down, to listen, to savour the silence of early mornings and the chaos of new cultures.
This love of learning is part of our bigger purpose:
The 14 Basecamps Challenge. Trekking to every base camp of the world’s 8,000m peaks over five years to raise money for scholarships for children in Nepal.
But our life isn’t just mountains. Never has been.
Swipe through our Instagram feed and you’ll quickly realise that our world isn’t one-dimensional. Yes, we hike. A lot. But that’s only one thread in a much bigger tapestry of how we travel as a family.
What We Do — A Family Who Travels for Food, Culture, Adventure, and Connection
Last summer in the Maldives is a perfect example. It wasn’t the kind of trip people often imagine — no overwater villas or luxury excess. We stayed locally, ate simply, and lived much closer to everyday island life. What made it unforgettable wasn’t comfort, but the water. Diving together as a family, floating weightlessly above coral gardens, watching manta rays sweep past in slow, effortless arcs — those moments felt quietly extraordinary. Not flashy. Just deeply shared.
Food is another constant thread running through our travels. We don’t just eat when we travel — we travel on our stomachs. Meals become markers of place and memory. Plov in Uzbekistan, eaten slowly and gratefully. Shashlik in Kyrgyzstan, smoky and simple. Pad Thai from plastic stools in Thailand. Nasi goreng in Indonesia, cooked the same way every evening by the same smiling hands.
Those flavours don’t stay abroad. They come home with us. Our weekly shop now includes trips to the local Asian supermarket, and our dinners have become joyful Euro-Asian fusion experiments — messy, colourful, heavily spiced and always accompanied by stories that begin with, “Do you remember when we ate this in…?”
Culture, though, is what truly anchors our travel. We’re not just sightseers ticking off landmarks. We’re culture travellers. We talk to people, listen carefully, and step into places with humility and respect.
Religion often sits at the heart of culture, and we make space for that too. Sitting quietly beneath the vast domes of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. Walking sunlit courtyards of mosques in Uzbekistan. Visiting Buddhist monasteries in Nepal, the air thick with incense and prayer flags. Watching Hindu ceremonies unfold in sacred spaces, not as spectators but as respectful guests.
These moments have shaped our boys in ways no textbook ever could. They’ve learned about difference without fear, about respect without instruction, and about humanity through experience rather than explanation.
People often assume that because we travel to places like South Africa, the Maldives, Central Asia or Nepal, our adventures only happen far from home. But the truth is far simpler.
We explore the UK with exactly the same curiosity, muddy boots and “let’s just go” attitude as we do anywhere else. For us, adventure isn’t defined by a plane ticket. It’s defined by movement, curiosity, and time together.
When we need mountains quickly, South Wales calls. Rugged, wild and close enough to feel spontaneous, Bannau Brycheiniog — the Brecon Beacons — has become a place we return to again and again. Long ridgeline walks where Ben charges ahead as if he’s training for Everest. Will singing his way up the trail, narrating the hike like a full-blown musical. The two of them racing across the sandstone paths of Pen y Fan, laughing through sideways rain and pulling hoods tighter as the weather closes in.
Those trips have taught resilience in the quietest way possible. Step by step, boot by boot. They remind us that you don’t need altitude to feel the power of mountains — sometimes 500 metres is more than enough.
When we crave sea air instead, Dorset gives us a different kind of reset. Fossil-filled beaches, wild coastal paths, wind in our faces and fish-and-chips eaten straight from paper by the shore. Stones skimmed at Durdle Door. Clifftop walks with folded pizza in our pockets. Fossil hunts in Lyme Regis that feel like proper treasure quests. Giant sandcastles on Studland beach, built with serious intent and inevitable collapse.
We always end those days the same way: salty, sandy, windswept and utterly content.
These UK trips matter just as much as the long-haul ones. They’re not placeholders. They’re practice. They’re proof that adventure doesn’t live somewhere else — it lives in how you choose to move through the world.
And that’s why we travel the way we do, whether it’s across continents or just a few hours down the road. Because the point was never distance. It was connection.
Why Our UK Travel Matters So Much
Exploring close to home keeps us grounded. It keeps us sane between bigger journeys and reminds us that adventure isn’t something you have to board a plane to find.
More importantly, it teaches the boys that exploration is a mindset, not a destination. That weather matters. That landscapes change. That moving through the world on foot, noticing rivers, woods, hills and seasons, is something to be enjoyed rather than rushed through.
So when we do travel further afield — to Indonesia, Thailand, South Africa or the Maldives — they arrive already curious, already observant. They understand wind and rain, heat and terrain. They know how to walk, wait, adapt and appreciate.
In many ways, the UK prepared them for the world.
Budget Travelling in School Holidays — The Reality No One Talks About
There’s a side of family travel that rarely makes it onto Instagram.
We’re teachers, not bankers. We don’t have the luxury of term-time flexibility, and we travel during the most expensive weeks of the year — Christmas, Easter, half-terms and summer holidays. It’s the worst possible time to look for flights… and yet it’s the only time we have.
So how do we still manage to reach places like the Maldives, South Africa, Thailand, Indonesia and Central Asia without a millionaire budget?
The truth is unglamorous but honest.
We’ve made travel our priority, not an add-on. We don’t chase new cars or upgrade gadgets that work perfectly well. We don’t fill our lives with “stuff”. Travel is our luxury — the one thing we choose to protect — and everything else is negotiable.
Our day-to-day life is intentionally simple. We cook at home. We meal-prep during busy term weeks. We save small amounts consistently rather than waiting for windfalls. Clothes are bought when they’re needed, not when they’re trending. The boys don’t have mountains of toys, but they have memories of beaches, forests, mountains and looking out of plane windows at places they’ve never seen before. And honestly? They don’t feel like they’re missing out.
We’re also patient. Because our dates are fixed, we plan far ahead, search endlessly, and treat deal-hunting like a quiet sport. We look at different airports, indirect routes, lesser-known destinations and up-and-coming regions. We choose weeks abroad over expensive hotels, and time over luxury.
It’s amazing what opens up when you stop chasing perfection and start chasing possibility.
Where We Stay, How We Eat, How We Move
Luxury resorts are beautiful — but they’ve never really been our world.
We stay where people actually live. Guesthouses, homestays, family-run B&Bs, small hotels, teahouses in the mountains, huts, campsites. These places cost less, but more importantly they give our travels depth. The boys talk to people, not waiters. They learn names, stories, customs and kindness.
Food follows the same philosophy. We eat what locals eat, where they eat it. Street food from busy vendors, corner cafés, market stalls, small kitchens serving home-style meals. It’s cheaper, yes — but it’s also richer, more memorable, more human.
We move through places the same way. Public transport, minibuses, ferries, shared taxis. We don’t shy away from things being a bit rough around the edges. Those journeys are often the most memorable — the ones filled with laughter, curiosity, and the occasional moment of chaos.
Embracing Imperfect Travel
Budget travel isn’t polished. It isn’t always smooth.
There are delayed buses, crowded ferries, strange food combinations, long waits in hot terminals and schedules that don’t make sense. There have been bouts of food poisoning, sudden storms, earthquakes, broken-down buses and toddler meltdowns in very public places.
But these moments become stories. And more than that, they teach the boys patience, humour and resilience. They learn that discomfort passes, that plans change, and that life doesn’t need to be perfect to be meaningful.
We’ve learned to remember the point: experiences matter more than comfort.
We’d rather dive with manta rays from a local island than stay in a £700-a-night resort. We’d rather trek to a Nepali teahouse than book a high-end lodge. We’d rather eat pad thai on plastic stools than sit in a polished restaurant. We choose weeks of experience over a single expensive stay.
Comfort fades. Memories don’t.
Why We Keep Going
Travel isn’t always easy. But every time we come home, tired and slightly broken, we know it was worth it.
The memories always beat the comfort of staying home.
We’re not special. We’re not rich. We’re not fearless.
We’re just an ordinary UK family of four, tied to school holidays, choosing adventure over luxury and experiences over things. We don’t try to make travel look perfect. We try to make it look possible.
If you want to travel more with your kids, you can. Start small. Start local. Start messy. But start.
Come Along With Us
Over on Instagram @familyrussellsmithtravel, we share the real moments — early-morning teahouse views, sweaty kid grins, street-food picnics, diving selfies, cultural surprises, and all the laughter, chaos and heart behind every journey.
If you love family travel that’s muddy, meaningful, budget-aware, culturally rich and full of purpose, you’re in the right place.
We promise honesty.
We promise heart.
And we promise that the adventure will always be real.
Family Russell-Smith Travel 