Recipefiesta

Make a day or weekend of it as you learn to identify and cook edible fungi and plants on guided walks with accommodation options

Fore Adventure runs outdoor activities on and around Studland Bay on the Jurassic coast, offering half-day kayak foraging around Old Harry Rocks (£65), is suitable for vegans and vegetarians, focusing on harvesting wild plants and seaweed. Fishing and foraging (£70) adds fishing for crustaceans and fish such as black bream, sea bass and mackerel; and foraging and feasting (£140) adds a two-course meal. The company also runs two-day wild camping, sea kayaking and coastal foraging adventures (£290).
Next kayak foraging trip 15 October, foreadventure.co.uk

With a little skill and knowledge, delicacies can be found and savoured all year round, but bountiful autumn is the highlight of the British forager’s year

• Plus a guide to picking mushrooms

Every autumn, my father would load our family of five into his already ancient 1928 Morris and set off from our home in Portsmouth. Laden, as we were, with baskets, boots, crooked walking sticks, gloves and Elastoplasts, we were off blackberry picking. Apart from annual trips to collect cockles from the mud of Langstone Harbour, I loved those early autumn days more than any other. Unlike school, early-1960s television and just about everything else, they felt so very real; not just a thing to do but the thing to do.

Looking back, I think that we were revisiting the lives of our distant ancestors for whom foraging was an instinctive communal activity, one that nature rewarded with a sense of fulfilment and joy, and, in this instance, blackberries. Now those blissful days are mine every week, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends and family. However, it is still autumn that I yearn for – its sloes, crab apples, sweet chestnuts, hazelnuts, misty mornings and mushrooms.

From the Highlands to Cornwall, from porridge to pakoras, enjoy the full harvest of our readers’ foodie tips

Every October, I find myself drawn to the Falmouth oyster festival, where fresh oysters, pulled straight from the boats, are shucked before your eyes. As you wander, the streets of Falmouth are buzzing with lively music, bursts of laughter, and the salty scent of the sea. Everywhere there’s a palpable energy – folks clinking glasses of chilled local ale, traders calling out their fresh catches and kids dancing to impromptu tunes. And oh, those oyster-shucking contests? An absolute riot. You’ll be cheering, laughing, and maybe even joining in. From 12 to 15 October.
Hamish Lister

With Europe’s largest sculpture park and galleries showcasing modern and contemporary British art, this former industrial powerhouse has a lot to feast your eyes on

Wakefield is the UK’s unofficial city of sculpture. As the proud birthplace of the sculptors Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth, it has two major art attractions in their honour. The whopping 500-acre Yorkshire Sculpture Park (YSP), and the Hepworth Wakefield. At the YSP, just outside the city and the biggest such park in Europe, sculptures by Moore and Hepworth are joined by ever-changing works by the likes of Ai Weiwei, Phyllida Barlow, Damian Hirst and many more.

Our slow travel expert takes in the undiscovered charms of the Soča valley and Julian Alps … in a country where train tickets have just got cheaper

James Bond slept until Sežana. In From Russia with Love, Ian Fleming writes that in Sežana “the hard-faced Yugoslav plain-clothes men came on board”. The Simplon-Orient-Express used by James Bond hasn’t run since 1962, and the border antics on the frontier between erstwhile Yugoslavia and Italy disappeared with the accession of Slovenia to the Schengen zone in 2007. The railway station in the Slovenian town of Sežana is nowadays a sleepy outpost. The most exotic departure of the day is the early-afternoon Eurocity train that rumbles east along the main line to Ljubljana, eventually reaching Vienna in the evening. It’s a fine ride, but closer to hand is a remarkable rural railway which deserves to be far better known. And the good news is that train fares in Slovenia were reduced in August.

Extravagant villas, wonderful food, exotic gardens and a calm beach attracted British expats to Bordighera in the 1880s – and it’s just as enticing today

Leaving my wife and daughter under a parasol on Bordighera’s beach, my teenage son and I set off in search of the largest Ficus macrophylla in western Europe.

The tree, commonly known as the strangler fig, was planted in 1886 by Clarence Bicknell, British botanist, collector, lover of Esperanto and chaplain of Bordighera’s Anglican church.

Cal Hunter and Claire Segeren spent four years, and acquired 300,000 Instagram followers, doing up a dilapidated house in Dunoon. Now it’s open to holidaymakers, you can see the results for yourself

You know that feeling when you accidentally buy the wrong house? No, me neither. Cal Hunter does, though, and it was to prove quite the most fortuitous error of the 31-year-old carpenter’s life.

The blunder, in 2018 – attributed to a fast-talking auctioneer and a mix-up with lot numbers – left him and his partner Claire Segeren, 29, with a derelict Victorian villa 35 miles from the apartment in Glasgow that they had been targeting.

Have you been on a skiing trip that minimised impact on the environment? Please share your experiences – the best tip wins £200 towards a Coolstays break

There are ways to cut down on your carbon footprint on a ski trip in the mountains. We’d like to hear about your best no-fly, eco-friendly ski holidays in Europe with recommendations of sustainably run resorts, accommodation and eco initiatives.

If you have a relevant photo, do send it in – but it’s your words that will be judged for the competition.

Camping out in churches makes this family cycling trip along the Golden Valley Pilgrimage Way an adventure to remember

“East is at the top of the map, south on the right, west is at the bottom and north you’ll find here on the left … ”

I stood looking at the guide in Hereford Cathedral who was uttering these frankly insane words and gripped my OS map tightly. About to set off on a three-night e-bike pilgrimage on the Golden Valley Pilgrimage Way (GVPW) – with my toddler in tow (literally, courtesy of a hired trailer) – I was relieved that cartography has come a long way since the Mappa Mundi, the largest medieval map in existence, was drawn in the 1300s.

Tackling the South West Coast Path (in chunks) with my husband and two young children gave us a chance to enjoy true freedom as a family

It’s late. The sun is setting. I’m sitting on a clifftop on the Jurassic Coast with my family. I can hear the clatter of forks against enamel, the slurp of camp-stove noodles, the distant draw of the sea below. Our tent is pitched on a rough patch of long grass, sleeping bags laid out, a bar of chocolate and pack of cards waiting for us. We are tired and dusty after a long day of hiking, when Tommy, my eight-year-old, suddenly says, “Look!”

A lone deer stands on the cliff edge, head lifted, dark eyes on us. Separated from its herd, it looks almost ethereal, the sea washed gold behind it. I wonder what the deer thinks of us – four humans huddled on a remote cliff top, miles from the nearest building or road.

On the final journey in our long-distance rail series we take the Doğu Express, which runs east from the Turkish capital, Ankara, towards Kars and the border with Georgia

‘Whatever you want to pay me for, you can have,” a masseur named Karim tells me with a laugh, as we face each other in Ankara’s Tarihi Karacabey Hamami, one of the Turkish capital’s oldest bath houses. We’re both wearing just a small towel, and Karim also wears a grin.

What I pay for is a rigorous skin scrub and massage in the hammam’s steamy communal room, whose nourishing ambience is occasionally punctuated by whiffs of tobacco breath from the clientele.

Spectacular mountains and valleys, natural hot baths and a Soviet-era ghost town are all just a day trip away from the Georgian capital, Tbilisi

Some Helly Hansen-clad travellers consider the Kazbegi area, next to the Russian border, one of Georgia’s more mainstream mountain trips. Don’t be put off: Stepantsminda, the main village of Kazbegi, may be frequented by tourists but it doesn’t feel overrun, and neither do its surrounding villages. Other mountainous areas, such as Svaneti, require longer slogs.

From a converted monastery in Venice to a former post office in Ghent, our tipsters share their most memorable places to stay handy for the train

Venice is a brilliant place to arrive in – the moment you walk down the steps and out of Santa Lucia station you’ll see bobbing gondolas on the city’s famous canals. Last year, I stayed at the Hotel Abbazia, a lovely traditional building in a restored ancient monastery. It’s two minutes from the station and has comfortable rooms for two or three from €125. You can have breakfast in the shady courtyard garden, almost imagining the monks strolling around as they said their prayers. In fact, the whole place was so relaxing, I almost missed my train as the friendly hosts served me more croissants and cappuccinos.
Nigel

With next week’s Turner prize opening in Eastbourne, we try a hop-on, hop-off bus service that takes art lovers around the area’s cultural hotspots

I’m on a bus, hurtling over the hills at exhilarating speed. An oxbow lake flashes into view: while geography was never a passion, the sharp curves of the meandering river as it reaches the sea at Cuckmere Haven demand my full attention. The arresting view has featured in paintings by Eric Ravilious as well as a Hollywood film or two.

Stunning scenery and its artistic representation are one of the draws of the Sussex Art Shuttle – the bus’s official title – a new service that transports visitors between Eastbourne’s Towner Gallery, the Seven Sisters Visitor Centre just outside Seaford, the picturesque villages of Alfriston and Litlington, Charleston (former home of artists Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant), and the new Charleston gallery in Lewes.

Autumn shows covering everything from the Georgians to the Kardashians, and from East End sweatshops to Chanel’s Paris

The V&A’s new blockbuster exhibition is the first in the UK dedicated to the French couturier Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel – and it is selling out fast. The show is fully booked until Christmas, but at the time of writing there was still plenty of availability in January and February. The exhibition charts the history of the House of Chanel, from the opening of Coco’s first millinery shop in Paris in 1910 to her final collection in 1971, and her legacy today. There are almost 200 looks on show, including a piece from 1916 and outfits designed for Lauren Bacall and Marlene Dietrich, plus accessories, jewellery and perfume.
Until 25 February, £24 adults/£16 children/under-12s free, vam.ac.uk

The Dodecanese island of Astypalea is waving goodbye to petrol and diesel in a groundbreaking project that has been welcomed by local people

After my seven-hour ferry journey across rolling azure seas, it’s a relief to be back on land. Along with a handful of locals returning from Athens laden with boxes of bougatsa custard pies and neat bags of shopping, I’ve arrived on the Dodecanese island of Astypalea – known as the butterfly island because of Mesa Nisi and Exo Nisi, its two wing-shaped islands linked by a narrow strip of land. You can break the journey in Naxos or Mykonos. But despite the length of the journey, nothing can beat the pleasure of leaving the bustling port of Piraeus and arriving on a peaceful Greek island by boat.

Traditionally, the inhabitants of this rugged island, which is one of Greece’s remotest and poorest, scratched a living from agriculture and fishing. Nowadays, most of the island’s 1,300-strong population are pinning their hopes on tourism. Many believe this will be boosted by the Greek government’s groundbreaking agreement with the Volkswagen Group to transform Astypalea into “a model island for climate-neutral mobility”.

As part of the plan, cars are being replaced by electric vehicles (locals and local businesses have been given substantial grants – sometimes for more than two-thirds of the cost – to buy them), and a series of innovative ride-sharing and on-demand public transport schemes have been introduced. “Astypalea will be a future lab for decarbonisation in Europe,” Herbert Diess, Volkswagen’s CEO has said. “We will be researching in real time what motivates people to switch to e-mobility.”

Share a tip on a break in a less well known European city – the best tip wins £200 towards a Coolstays break

Paris, Rome, Berlin, Amsterdam – Europe’s major capital cities get a lot of fanfare, and rightly so. But they can become victims of their own popularity with inflated prices and over-tourism. With lively cultural and food scenes, friendly locals and a strong sense of identity, the less obvious secondary cities can sometimes offer a more rewarding experience to travellers. From Trieste to Trondheim, Coimbra to Kraków, we’d like to hear about your favourite small European cities.

If you have a relevant photo, do send it in – but it’s your words that will be judged for the competition.

With charming guesthouses, cheery cafes and bikes for hire, the Göta Canal’s 125 miles of trails is a great way to enjoy the Swedish countryside

Swifts dart and swoop from Norrqvarn’s eaves, the morning sun filtering through the pines as I load my panniers and get set for a slow day’s cycling. A former mill turned welcoming and, crucially, affordable hotel, Norrqvarn is my starting point for a multi-day bike ride taking in Sweden’s most impressive engineering feat, the Göta canal. The canal celebrated its 200th anniversary in 2022 and the newly opened Göta kanalleden section is the main attraction along Sweden’s national cycle route 7.

Getting the Göta canal primed for national cycling route status has been a years-long project, explains Amanda Hessle, my guide for the day (from local agency Värdskapsbyrån). Regular picnic sites replete with barbecues, fika (coffee and cake) spots alongside many of the 58 locks, plus toilets and even showers, are proof of how the state-owned canal company has dedicated time to making life as easy as possible for those on two wheels.

New York City can be costly, but these hotels mean you can still afford to visit

With an array of dormitories and private rooms, this unpretentious and popular, budget-friendly hostel makes a visit to one of the most expensive cities on the planet feel affordable. On the edge of East Williamsburg and trendy, industrial Bushwick, it has high ceilings, hardwood floors and eclectic furnishings rather than piled-high bunk beds. There’s a fully equipped guest kitchen, complimentary tea and coffee, and parking, too. Brooklyn institution Roberta’s dishes up pizza and drinks just around the corner. Or walk half an hour down the road to LunÀtico to dance the night away to folk and jazz until the early hours.
Dorm rooms from £44, nymoorehostel.com

Starting in arty St Ives, this route takes in a hill the writer ‘staggered up’ in 1909, the lighthouse that inspired her novel, and finishes in a pub she loved

From St Ives station, there’s a view of sand, palms and, across misty blue water, a lighthouse on a rocky island. Virginia Woolf and her sister, artist Vanessa Bell, saw this view as children from the house their father rented. It later featured in Woolf’s novel To the Lighthouse, set in the Hebrides but clearly inspired by St Ives. She describes “the great plateful of blue water” and “hoary Lighthouse, distant, austere in the midst”. Images have lingered ever since I read it years ago at college, and my pub walk is something of a literary pilgrimage.

Five minutes after leaving the station, I’m in front of Talland House, a big white early 19th-century building with wrought-iron balconies looking out to sea from between evergreens. A plaque records that Woolf spent 12 summers here from 1882, when she was born. I’m planning to walk to the Badger in Lelant, a pub that Woolf (then Virginia Stephen) enjoyed around 1909-10. But first I’m ambling round St Ives to soak up the art.

Musicians, dancers and a tarot-card reading artist animate the nearly five-hour journey to Wrocław from the German capital

Madame Ziemowit the witch nods and scratches her beard as I flip a tarot card, revealing the chariot symbol. Picking the chariot seems fitting, as the turban-clad sorcerer and I are on a train, having just crossed the border from Germany into Poland. Multicoloured lightbulbs adorn carriage windows, framing a green-blue blur of fields and rivers. Next to us a toddler, sitting in a mini-library by the loo, draws squiggles on an Etch A Sketch. A jaunty brass fanfare plays through the carriage speakers.

This is the Culture Train, which makes the four-and-a-half-hour journey between Berlin and the Polish city of Wrocław each weekend, and is surely one of the most creative and quirky railway services in Europe. Musicians, authors, DJs, teachers – and indeed performance artists adopting tarot card-reading witch personas – provide entertainment to passengers, who range from bum bag-strapped weekend trippers to Berghain clubbers on comedowns.

The fabled railway service returns in 2025. But you don’t need to wait until then, or pay the eyewatering fares, to ride this classic route

One of the fruits of getting on a train is that it makes me want to chat. So instead of gazing at Kent as we proceed to Paris from London, I talk to my neighbour. Martha grew up in San Francisco, studied in Oregon, and puts syrup on everything. When we part ways on the concourse of Gare du Nord – she to lunch with a friend from Wisconsin, me to amble around before continuing towards Turkey – she says the best things about the US are Taylor Swift and meatloaf. It’s good to talk.

With just two hours to play with, I cold-shoulder the signature attractions and make a beeline for Shakespeare and Company bookshop on the Seine, where I once slept next to the poems for three months in my 20s while working on my first book. (The scheme is called Tumbleweeding and offers shelter to writers in exchange for helping out in the shop.) By heading there I’m being hopelessly nostalgic, but in the event the queue to enter the shop is round the block and I don’t make it inside. The search for lost time goes on.

Enjoy a giant omelette, a local pint or a glass of lion’s milk … readers share their favourite places to kick back and wait for the train in Europe and the UK

Visit platform one at Carnforth railway station, where Brief Encounter was filmed, and enjoy great food and drinks at the Refreshment Room. The venue, restored to its 1940s period glory, is a step back in time. As an added bonus, there is a volunteer-run small museum full of railway memorabilia. It’s a special place, and the trains rolling by just add to the atmosphere.
Helen

The wild west coast from Cork up to Donegal has captivated writers from Yeats to Synge and Charlotte Brontë – as well as a host of lesser-known talent

‘Go to the Aran Islands. Live there as if you were one of the people themselves; express a life that has never found expression,” was, according to the poet WB Yeats, how he persuaded the playwright John Millington Synge to discover his muse – the desolate beauty of the Aran archipelago. Whatever was the true genesis for Synge’s Atlantic coast hiatus, his times on Inishmaan culminated in the critically acclaimed Playboy of the Western World (1907).

Synge wasn’t the only literary figure drawn to the stark and moodily captivating landscape of the west of Ireland; a place that had become almost a geographical metaphor for romantic Irish ideals and ancient mythology. Charlotte Brontë honeymooned along the western seaboard as far as Loop Head in County Clare, describing it as “such a wild, iron-bound coast – with such an ocean-view as I had not yet seen – and such battling of waves with rocks as I had ever imagined”.

Less frenetic than neighbouring Marseille, this beautiful coastal resort quietly celebrates its pioneering heritage in shipbuilding, cinematography and … pétanque

So impressive were the shipyards at La Ciotat, halfway between Marseille and Toulon, that French emperors, dignitaries and scientists would flock there to witness the launch of an ocean liner. The swell overflowed the port, flooding cafes and carrying diners and motorcars out to sea.

It all seemed calm when I visited this summer. Shipbuilding ended in La Ciotat in 1987 but the yard was turned into a hub for refitting luxury ships and superyachts, keeping a huge workforce active while the town turned its attention to tourism. I wander along the seafront past a giant 3D #ILoveLaCiotat sign, brightly painted pointu boats, a ferry going to Île Verte, barrels of fishing nets, some great-looking restaurants and a restored hammerhead crane.

With the kids back at school, the crowds have gone, prices are lower and there’s still plenty of sun for late-season breaks in southern Europe

With its 300 days of sunshine a year, Nice has traditionally been the go-to destination for northern Europeans looking to eke out summer. But at the western end of the Cote d’Azur, Marseille and its surrounding beaches enjoy a similarly appealing climate, minus the sky-high price tags.

Share details of a lovely food festival, ale trail or seafood discovery – the best tip wins a Coolstays break

The “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” is almost upon us, so it’s time to celebrate food, glorious food at places such as the Abergavenny food festival, or go on a cider tour in Herefordshire, where they have themed events showcasing the county’s orchards. In the Scottish Highlands, the Golden Spurtle world porridge-making championship draws oat-loving competitors from around the world, and a real ale trail takes beer guzzlers by bus on a tour of Cheshire’s country pubs. We’d like to hear about your favourite food festival, ale trail or seafood celebration.

If you have a relevant photo, do send it in – but it’s your words that will be judged for the competition.

This new route follows ancient paths across the Apennines, with stops for castles built by a kick-ass medieval countess, and the best balsamic vinegar

“The Ducati trail?” My husband was suddenly excited. “Do we get to ride motorbikes?”

I had to explain that the “Ducati” in Sentiero dei Ducati, a new hiking route being promoted by Italy’s Emilia-Romagna region, refers not to the high-performance bikes made nearby, but to the medieval duchies that once ruled north and central Italy. And far from eating up miles on a sleek machine, we’d be trekking along centuries-old footpaths that once linked ducal territories in this hilly land rising to the high Apennines.

It’s not over yet … These 10 idyllic beach stays around Britain offer September sun and no crowds

Scotland’s most visited isle teems with visitors in summer, but as September dawns the crowds – and the midges – dissipate. Hike up to the spectacular rock formations at the Old Man of Storr and head to Neist Point on a clear day, to make the most of the spectacular sunset. For a truly tranquil stay, base yourself in the crofting township of Edinbane in the north, where Ploughman’s Cottage, which sleeps six, has lovely views over Loch Greshornish, and the Edinbane Inn (edinbaneinn.co.uk) offers local mussels, Skye black pudding and Scottish beef, with an excellent selection of whiskies.
From £1,095, ihcottages.com

Being on your own is a chance to really savour the world around you - at your own pace. Here are 15 places to visit and eat. Plus, five great spa breaks for number one

There’s something wonderfully liberating about travelling alone and the following trips fulfil all the best aspects of being solo. No compromises to be made, no itineraries discussed; get up when you want, eat what you fancy, do nothing or everything, talk to the friendly person next to you at breakfast, or pop in your headphones and ignore them completely. When I’m travelling alone, I become the best version of myself; the most decisive, the most charming, the most curious. I see more, go further, strike up conversations with people I’ll never meet again, yet always remember. And even after 25 years of travelling, I still get the same feeling of satisfaction when I’m home – a quiet sense of pleasure that I did it all on my own.

A tiny railway halt is the gateway to an idyllic stroll ending at a flower-shrouded pub

Berney Arms is one of England’s most remote railway stations. You can only get to this stretch of the Norfolk Broads by train, boat or a long walk. It’s 25 minutes’ train ride from Norwich, but only two trains stop most days, and I’ve never seen anyone else getting off. Outside the train window, a roe deer steps delicately through green marshes and an egret stands poised by the water. The strange wild beauty is what keeps me coming back. This time I’m arriving with my husband on the 7.36am train from Norwich to walk along the River Yare to Reedham. We head through into the first carriage, the only one that fits next to the tiny station.

There’s an immediate burst of loud, electronic chirruping from a Cetti’s warbler in the reeds as the train pulls away. Heading over soggy meadows towards Norfolk’s tallest drainage mill, we are quickly immersed in a wide, watery landscape. The air is alive with birds: the joyous sliding scales of sedge warblers and noisy peewits from lapwings flapping over the fields. The Broads national park is Britain’s largest protected wetland area and a quarter of the UK’s rarest species live here. Reclaimed from the sea more than four centuries ago, these grazing marshes are now lower than sea level and need protection from the higher tides and longer droughts of a changing climate.

What to do when you’ve bought two passes but your husband won’t go? Go anyway and have a fantastic time doing exactly what you want

Does there come a point in every marriage when you realise you don’t know your spouse very well after all? For me, that moment came not when watching yet another ill-judged birthday present shoved to the back of my husband’s wardrobe, but when I noticed a half-price sale on Interrail passes and decided to book a pair for what I felt sure would be an excellent and perhaps even romantic late-summer adventure.

I was deep in planning reverie, weighing up the merits of chasing the sun in southern Europe versus getting hygge in Scandinavia, when my beloved announced that sitting on trains for a fortnight was the opposite of what he considers a holiday.

A family heads to Sicily and takes in Palermo, Catania and the circular narrow gauge railway around Mount Etna

It took the second thud to rouse me. Worried I’d slept through it, I slid up the blind to find our train pulling into the port city of Villa San Giovanni in Calabria, Italy. Not quite 6am, the last of the night’s sky was taking leave: navy clouds pulled apart before my eyes, a single neon-pink patch igniting the ridgeline of the Peloritani mountains in north-east Sicily.

As I watched the waters of the Messina Strait turn silver in the dawn light, the train jerked and we began to roll the way we’d come. Shunted back and forth, I realised the carriages were uncoupling: this was the moment I’d waited years to witness. Little legs in pink pyjamas appeared on the ladder and my five-year-old daughter climbed down from her berth. “Are we riding on the ferry yet?”

I take risks on solo hikes, navigating animal traps and dangerous terrain. But for a woman, men are the biggest threat. I do it to be more open to the world, in the hope it will be more open to me

The path, more of a faint depression in the field I had just crossed, disappeared into a wood: yes, I could see an opening in the vegetation. The day before, I had left the official walking route of the Via Francigena, an ancient pilgrimate route from Canterbury to Rome, to stay at a B&B that was highly rated and affordable. Early next morning, after stuffing my pockets with the breakfast my hostess had set out for me, I cracked open the massive gate in the wall surrounding the little country compound and sneaked through.

The village was quiet. Not even roosters were up as I found my stride on a dirt path that would, according to Google, take me back to the route. All I had to do was follow the track that cut south through a forest that showed on the map as a fairly small green blob between me and my destination. No problem.

Whether it’s gypsy jazz, the blues, folk or flamenco, these retreats cater for musicians of all levels looking to up their game – and have fun

Every Easter, a sleepy corner of the Cotswolds transforms into a miniature version of the Blue Ridge mountains of the eastern US. The idyllic Kingham Hill private school, near Chipping Norton, is invaded by hundreds of banjos, fiddles, mandolins, guitars, a handful of dobros, and even the occasional autoharp. The reason for this is the appropriately named Sore Fingers bluegrass and old-time music week.

My first visit to Sore Fingers was in 2008. I’d dusted off a five-string banjo I had last played as a teenager and, along with a fiddle-playing friend, had plans to form what would become the UK’s first all-female bluegrass band, the Jolenes. I was hooked from the get-go – the instant camaraderie, the total immersion and the joy of making music with like-minded folk of all levels of expertise. I loved the nerdery. Where else can you discuss the optimum angle of your banjo picks without getting funny looks? I’ve never looked back …

With great water sports, coastal walks, wildlife and an ice-cream parlour, this idyllic spot in Sutherland is the perfect hangout – and no one seems to know about it

I was weaving through an underwater forest, russet strands of seaweed billowing around me like mermaids’ hair. As we snorkelled, the water was at times shallow enough that my fins scraped the sand; at others, the kelp-smothered rocks seemed to drop away, leaving the seabed out of reach. A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye hadd me spinning around to find my guide, Rhionna, pointing to a small, crimson-red sea anemone on a dark rock, its tentacles quivering in the current.

Afterwards, we sat in the shallows and peeled off our fins, moving back and forth with the motion of the waves. A cluster of bemused campervanners were watching from above. And who could blame them? Like them, I’d never associated the North Sea – least of all far northern Scotland – with snorkelling. “How was it?” one asked once I’d dripped my way up to the car park. “Absolutely brilliant,” I say, my cheeks strained from smiling.