Zelda: Breath of the Wild - Travelogue 2: Exploring Hateno and Dueling Peaks

I guide my horse along the wooded paths just beyond the edge of Hateno Village, following a road that bends gently around a high ridge. Below, the land drops away into the still waters of Lake Jarrah. The forest here is scattered and uneven—clusters of trees broken by open stretches of grass and stone.

It is quiet, but not empty.

Shapes move between the trees. Moblins and Bokoblins patrol the road and its edges, their presence enough to explain the absence of other travelers.

Despite the danger, I do not rush.

The road curves onward, revealing the silhouette of Hateno Tower rising sharply from the land. Its surface glows faintly, a cold orange light that stands in contrast to the natural world around it. At its base, monsters linger among scattered debris and broken stone.

I leave the horse behind, carefully making my way past monsters to reach the base of the tower. I begin the climb.

The height builds quickly. Wind presses harder against me as I ascend, and the sounds of the land begin to stretch and fade below. When I reach the top, the world opens.

Hateno Village rests quietly beneath me, its homes clustered together in calm defiance of the wilds beyond. Fields, forests, and distant ruins spread outward in every direction. 

I descend and turn back toward the mountains.

The road carries me once more through the narrow pass between the towering halves of Dueling Peaks. I cross the waters of the Squabble River, where it widens and softens into a quiet runoff basin, and there, rising from the wetlands, stands the second tower.

The Dueling Peaks Tower is surrounded by water with a large stone providing a natural ramp halfway up. From its height, the view of the river and road I'd taken from the Great Plateau stretches before me.

I do not linger.

Instead, I glide from the tower toward the southern face of the mountain, where the terrain turns barren and unforgiving. The grass disappears, replaced by exposed rock. The climb is steep, each step deliberate as the slope rises sharply beneath me.

Narrow trails form naturally along the cliffside, just wide enough to follow. I take them when I can, adjusting my path where the mountain demands it.

At the summit, there is nothing to obstruct the view.

The world unfolds in every direction. Plains, rivers, forests, and ruins stretch beyond sight, blending into the horizon. Among them, faint but unmistakable, the orange glow of shrines and towers appear across the landscape—silent markers waiting to be reached. From here, the scale of Hyrule becomes clear—not in detail, but in distance.

It is vast.

I turn north and paraglide across the gap in the mountain.

The far side of the mountain is harsher still. The descent is sharper, the rock less forgiving. Wind cuts across the slope with little resistance, and the ground offers few safe paths downward.

Partway along the lower side, I find what remains of a camp.

Abandoned.

A small shelter of worn materials clings to the mountainside, offering brief protection from the wind. No signs of its former occupants remain beyond the structure itself. Whether they left willingly or not is unclear.

I rest only briefly before returning to the comfort and safety of Dueling Peaks Stable.