Recipefiesta

An epic rail trip to Sweden’s Arctic north ends with a surreal skiing experience – and waffles for breakfast while sitting out a snowstorm

The light coming through the sleeper train window wakes me. It’s nearly time. Climbing down the ladder past the other snoozing occupants, I head into the corridor. A few hours ago there were only trees, an endless unfurling ribbon of spruce and birch. Now there is snow, vast banks of it. And sometimes, when the train roars through a big drift, great spumes of white blast out on either side, blocking any view.

In the restaurant car, I watch the map on my phone as a blue dot approaches a straight dashed line. A frozen lake and distant pale mountains appear. Then at 6.09am we cross the Arctic Circle. Forty-eight hours previously, I had been in London St Pancras station, queueing for the Eurostar. Now, five trains later, never having left terra firma, I am in the Arctic. Most of my fellow travellers are Swedes with hefty bags of skis and well-stocked sledges that look expedition-ready. With their weathered faces and lean muscle, they look intimidatingly capable.

The native woodland of Hoia-Baciu in Romania is a place where the human imagination can run riot. A guided night tour is the perfect way to discover its otherworldly charms

‘They call this place the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania,” says tour guide Marius Lazin, his breath expelling a procession of cotton-wool ghosts into the sharp evening air. “So many people have disappeared here, some say it’s a portal to another dimension.” Marius is leading me on a night walk through what is often described as the world’s most haunted forest: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of old-growth native woodland on the outskirts of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca. He’s been coming here three nights a week for the past 12 years, but even he looks a little uneasy as he arcs his torch like a searchlight against the knotted walls of elm and beech trees which embrace us on all sides, looking so thick that they might be the boundary of the known world.

Marius motions with his torch towards several pairs of slender beech trees, eerie in their symmetry, branches intertwined to form arches – portals or stargates, you might speculate, were you possessed of a particularly febrile imagination. “Many came in here and never came out. But don’t worry,” he adds, turning to me with a grin. “Our tours have a 100% return rate.”

A new generation of chefs and distillers are showcasing the Hebridean island’s outstanding produce and creating jobs for fellow islanders

With its dramatic, rugged mountain skyline, winding roads and ever-changing weather, the Isle of Skye has long appealed to lovers of the wild. Over the last decade, however, the largest island in the Inner Hebrides has been drawing visitors for other reasons – its dynamic food and drink scene. Leading the way are young Sgitheanach (people from Skye) with a global outlook but a commitment to local, sustainable ingredients. It’s also the result of an engaged community keen to create good, year-round jobs that keep young people on the island.

Calum Montgomery is Skye born and bred, and he’s passionate about showcasing the island’s larder on his menus at Edinbane Lodge. “If someone is coming to Skye I want them to appreciate the landscape, but also the quality of our produce,” he says. “Our mussels, lobster, scallops and crab are second to none.” Montgomery is mindful of the past: “It means everything to me to use the same produce as my ancestors. My grandpa was a lobster fisherman and we’re enjoying shellfish from the same stretch of water, with the same respect for ingredients.”

Set within a volcanic nature reserve, this charmingly repurposed 17th-century farmhouse has all bases covered for a relaxing, rustic microadventure

It’s 10pm, and I’m chatting with new friends after dinner at a guesthouse in wilds of Catalonia. The candlelight flickers off stout terracotta jugs of wine and on to the faces of Thomas, a management consultant from New York, and Viktoras and Gabije, a charming Lithuanian couple I’ve been grilling about Baltic holiday spots. Ellen is German, living in Barcelona and training to be a therapist. It’s testament to the relaxed vibe that the conversation flows as smoothly as the wine.

I’m at Off Grid, a new 10-room retreat (plus four-bedroom barn) in Alta Garrotxa, a protected nature reserve about 30 miles (50km) north of Girona. A converted 17th-century masia (farmhouse), it’s encircled by the fertile green humps and limestone crags of the pre-Pyrenees, with sloping gardens sheltering a large swimming pool. With its rustic, slow-living ethos, it’s perhaps a surprising departure for owner Gerard Greene, former CEO of Yotel – the modern, tech-driven city-centre brand with hotels in New York, Amsterdam and Tokyo among other cities. Just being here is a kind of therapy.

The nostalgic Steel Cotton Rail Trail between Sheffield and Manchester has 14 day-length sections, with walks for urban explorers and summit-bagging hikers alike

The Pride of Cumbria train carried me out of Piccadilly station and, eventually, beyond built-up Manchester. After Marple, everything turned green as the valleys narrowed. It was a classic northern autumn day: the clouds were low, the mizzle and mist were closing in and the world was grey-filtered but for the glow of dead leaves all around.

South-east of Manchester is a bit of an unknown for me. Between the city and the Derbyshire borough of High Peak, you don’t quite enter national park territory, but it’s nonetheless a charming and eye-calming landscape. The Mancunian Kinder Scout trespassers of 1932 probably came this way, as do Pennine Way-farers bound for Edale. But the region is also post-industrial and close to conurbations. The Steel Cotton Rail Trail, which officially launched earlier this month after several years of planning, hopes to bring together elements of the land and the heritage while also drawing walkers and cyclists to areas of the Peak District perhaps ignored by those who rush for the main spine of the Pennines.

From Cornwall to the Highlands, here’s our pick of new or recently refurbished inns with cosy rooms, enticing menus and country walks from the door

My epic rail journey to some of the continent’s most creative and edgy cities mimics a cruise – I hop on and off, eat too much and soak up the culture

The people queueing for the Eurostar at London St Pancras station, rushing in from the rain in hoodies, look noticeably less enthusiastic than the usual holiday crowds. But then, we aren’t heading to the usual hot, heady holiday destinations of Spain or the south of France, but boarding a train to north-east Europe. For me, it will be a journey of more than 1,000 miles – via Amsterdam, Berlin and Warsaw to Vilnius – visiting some of the coolest capitals in the north. At least in terms of temperature.

As England sweltered this summer, and Spain reached a hellish 46C, it made sense to head away from the heat on what is now fashionably being called a “coolcation”. I left in August, with a suitcase full of jumpers.

We explore the Roman, Tudor and Indian delights of Leicester, the textile and religious heritage of Paisley, and the radical history of Nelson, the only town named after a pub

• Where tourists seldom tread, parts 1-18

Academics, journalists and pundits talk at great length about the conundrum of overtourism; the ready-made solution is simply to swerve the crowds. These three towns are regional centres where you will never need to queue, but will come away culturally stimulated and historically enlightened.

Powered by fruit cake and fresh fish, our writer takes in the spectacular cliffs, coves and villages along a new seafood trail

In all human endeavours undertaken within Britiain’s isles, the provision of tea and cake is the most vital consideration. When a walker or cyclist delivers the damning judgment “there’s no decent caff” to a group of friends, the ghastly silence is followed by everyone crossing the accursed region off their map. The sheer importance of this staple dietary ingredient is obvious from our island geography: Dundee, Eccles, Bakewell, Chelsea …

So it was with some trepidation that I set out to walk around the Llŷn peninsula in Gwynedd, Wales, on part of what is called the Seafood Trail. I mean, I love a lobster, but what about the fruit scones? Bangor University’s school of ocean sciences has produced a map of seafood producers and outlets to encourage hikers as they stride along the coastal path. Fine, but it’s the late afternoon sugar lull that I worry about.

Martin and Lizzy set off on an epic ride to the south-west tip of Europe in search of freedom, adventure and the best surf on the continent

When I wheeled my bike off the ferry at Roscoff, northwest France, in the summer of 2024, the furthest I had ever ridden was the 99-mile Devon Coast to Coast route over two days. And yet here I was, about to embark on an epic journey, unsupported, towing a trailer with two wooden surfboards, a tent and wetsuits strapped to it. My wife, Lizzy, 62, and I had rented out our house and lent our campervan to friends, so there was no turning back.

Lizzy was also towing a trailer with two belly boards and the rest of our camping kit. She, the veteran of many long rides in her 20s – one of which took her across the Andes – was full of quiet confidence. I was excited beyond words to be setting off on a new adventure, but also terrified of what the road might reveal about me. I had no idea whether my 57-year-old body or soul could cope with cycling for days on end, climbing mountains or setting up a tent every night for three months. My first attempt at a mountain pass, in the Pyrenees some years before, hadn’t started well. I threw a hissy fit at the first hairpin, demanding of Lizzy: what’s the point?

It’s four decades since the travel writer last ventured on to the slopes. A resort in the Tirol is the perfect place to rediscover the joys of skiing

‘You’re mad!” Caroline the greengrocer said cheerfully when I told her I was going skiing. A reasonable reaction since not so long ago I was shopping on crutches following a hip replacement. My sister’s friends were more concerned: “How old are you? 80? I don’t think this is a good idea. You’ll fall and break something.” My brother, Andrew, 86, decided it was better not to tell anyone.

For at least two decades I’d had a half-buried wish to experience one more ski trip. A final fix of blue sky, frosty air and the exhilaration that comes with finding yourself still intact at the bottom of a snow-covered slope. I was never much good, and hadn’t skied for decades, but that wasn’t the point. At 83, I needed to see if I could still do it. And if I could do it, how about inviting my sister, Kate, one-third of our Old Crones group who encourage each other to do parkrun each week? Then I remembered that, as teenagers, Andrew had joined me on my first ski holiday. That was 67 years ago, but Andrew used to be quite good, so I invited him too. My friend Penny, who is so absurdly young (67, so she says) that she doesn’t really count, was also allowed to come and try her luck with the oldies and practise her German. We all made an effort to get as fit as possible, but none of us had skied for at least 40 years.

Whether a clever marketing ploy or truly great by nature, Australia’s walking tracks are attracting visitors in increasing numbers

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Until early 2023, New South Wales had no Great Walks. Now it has 10 and will soon have 13. Queensland has 15 and Victoria has three multiday walks with “Great” in their names. Then there’s Great Walks of Australia, a collective of 13 luxury guided walks, not to be confused with the popular SBS television series Great Australian Walks.

So where did all this greatness come from?

From Interrailing around Europe to trekking in the Himalayas, our tipsters share their memorable trips made later in life
• Tell us about a great winter mountain holiday – the best tip wins a £200 holiday voucher

I went Interrailing at 16 – so decided to do it again at 61! My wife and I bought our passes for all of Europe (under £500 for one-month unlimited rail trips) and it was great to rediscover the sense of freedom and adventure travelling by train gave. Having a romantic dinner in Paris, getting on the night train and having coffee and croissants for breakfast in Nice on the Côte d’Azur for example. I corrected the teenage mistake of trying to do too much and see too many places so we lingered longer in places such as Poland and Romania, soaking up the atmosphere in Wrocław and Bucharest. It was interesting to compare the speed, quality and comfort of train services too. We found that sometimes slow travel was better – like when we got on the wrong train from Rome to Naples, allowing us to appreciate the scenery, locals and way of life of people who were not in a hurry. The trip was a learning experience at 61 as much as it had been at 16.
Peter

A Norman Foster-designed ‘wine cathedral’, Hobbit-style cellars and a Petra-lookalike church are drawing attention to this tasty corner of the Ribera del Duero in northern Spain

‘We can talk about culture, churches, monasteries, whatever, but the main thing here is eating and drinking.” My guide, Loreto Esteban Guijarro, is keen to ensure I have my priorities straight. I’m with Loreto to discover the food and wine culture of Spain’s Burgos province, a high-altitude area ringed by distant mountains. In summer the days are hot, and at night temperatures plummet. To thrive in these extremes, the food, the wine, and even perhaps the people, are robust and straight-talking.

I’m staying deep in wine country at the rural Posada de Pradoray, built as a hunting lodge for the Duke of Lerma in 1601. The thick stone walls, dark polished wood and heavy doors leading to simple rooms with vineyard views suggest little has changed in this landscape for centuries. Burgos is part of the Ribera del Duero wine region which stretches for 71 miles following the Duero River through the provinces of Burgos, Segovia, Soria and Valladolid.

Running tourism is booming and nowhere more so than in France where a 24km race around Nîmes doubles as a surreal, whistlestop sightseeing tour

We could hear the band before we saw it: a group of retirement home residents with trumpets and drums waiting to greet us as we approached. Others using wheelchairs waved homemade flags. As we swarmed into the building and up the staircase, a bottleneck formed. I slowed down as a nurse put a stamp on my sweaty arm, then I jogged off down the corridor.

Running through a retirement home is just one of the many surreal moments that participants signing up for the Nîmes Urban Trail (NUT) get to experience on this 24km race around the city, which takes place each February. Not only does the route give you a whistlestop sightseeing tour, taking you past the town’s impressive Roman monuments and landmarks, it also grants you access to places that would normally be off limits to outsiders.

This coastal hiking trail around the hammerhead-shaped Rhins of Galloway peninsula is still a bit wild in places, but it’s an exhilarating introduction to this remote and little visited part of the country

Three days into my walk along the Rhins of Galloway coast path and I was on love-hate terms with this new long-distance trail. Unruly and at times cruel, it forced me to hurdle fences, wade through bracken up to my midriff and teased me with disappearing paths and wayward waymarks.

But then, after I’d yelled profanities into the wind (there were no other hikers around to hear me), this raffishly handsome route would come over all sweetness and light. Look, it would simper: a dazzling and deserted white-sand bay! A ravishing spray of orchids! A crinkle of rocky foreshore be-flumped with seals! Once, moments after I’d cursed my way through a patch of Scottish jungle, a hare leapt from the sward just as a ruddy fox barred my way, a deer herd pronked down the cliffside and a buzzard mewed overhead; I felt like a sweaty Snow White summoning all the creatures at once, only by swearing rather than singing.

From a Scottish island lighthouse to a lakeside cabin in Cornwall, these secluded places to stay are bound to reinvigorate and inspire

Guests at this lighthouse keeper’s cottage have not only the property but the whole 1.6-hectare (four-acre) island to themselves. Eilean Sionnach is an islet off Skye that is accessible by boat or on foot at low tide. Like the lighthouse, the cottage was built in 1857 and has four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a kitchen and a lounge with a wood burner, and incredible sea views.

What would happen if you removed the obstacle of having to get to the gym? Brigid Delaney spends a week finding out

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What stops you from going to the gym?

For me, it’s that I can’t be bothered. The gym is too far away, and the effort to get there is just too much. In short, I don’t go because I’m lazy.

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Among the fields and forests of Herefordshire, a solar-powered stone cottage proves the perfect base for fishing, birding, hiking – and simply being

Any deviation from the beaten track comes with moments of uncertainty. Is this the right dirt track? Is our progress going to be thwarted at any moment by an impenetrable thicket, or worse still an implacable landowner who will force a ham-fisted reverse? As it turns out, we are only temporarily stalled by two male peacocks jousting in the middle of the lane in a kaleidoscopic blur of feathers and fury. We wait for them to retire to the grass verge and continue to bounce up the track until we see a sign for our cottage pointing to the left. This leads us deeper into a woodland of oak, ash, birch and Douglas fir, until we finally see a brick-and-stone house standing in a clearing set back from the trail.

From the outside, Van Cottage looks like a pioneer homestead, with a crooked stone chimney to one side and a metal-roofed veranda to the other. Around the corner there’s a wood-fired hot tub, and beyond the garden fence in a little forest glade is a small brick dunny. The house sits on a ridge, and the garden offers views over the carmine-coloured ploughed fields and billowy woodland of Herefordshire.

In the foothills of the Sierra Nevada in Andalucía, our writer finds that processing and shaping clay helps him filter out negative thoughts

I’m sitting on the ground with seven others, huddled around a mass of lumpy, grey matter that quickly turns to powder under the pounding of hammers. Beside us are a small dipping pool, some mulberry trees and a whitewashed house crawling with purple bougainvillaea, from which two dogs drift in and out to inspect our work.

“This is pretty therapeutic, isn’t it?” someone says above the clattering of tools, as flower-dappled light dances on a canopy that’s shielding us from the hot Andalucían sun.

From the Scottish Highlands to a Greek island, our tipsters have been awed by silence, beauty and wildlife in out-of-the-way corners of Europe
• Tell us about a great country pub – the best tip wins a £200 holiday voucher

I’d recommend visiting the Outer Hebrides island of Berneray for an experience of true remoteness. Here you can walk across the rare grassland called the machair to the white, three-mile long West Beach, which looks out into the North Atlantic, and marvel at the immense space and colour of the sea. We stayed at a Gatliff Hebridean hostel, which consists of two converted crofts where for about £20 a night for a bunk you will be staying in probably one of the most peaceful locations in the world. Berneray is between North Uist and Harris.
Nik Fernee

The Birmingham neighbourhood is hugely significant in the Black British story – a history seemingly unknown to Tory MP Robert Jenrick – as revealed on a guided walk that remembers Nelson Mandela and Benjamin Zephaniah

‘The people’s champion” is how Benjamin Zephaniah is fondly remembered in his home town of Handsworth, Birmingham. The words, spray-painted in fiery-red ballooned letters, leap out of a colourful mural that wraps around one side of a local Sons of Rest building, a place where retired war veterans once met and socialised. To the side looms an image of the late poet and writer, his face full of expression and thought. For a moment, it feels as if he’s there with you.

A couple of years earlier, and he may well have been. “Seriously, you could come into Handsworth Park and he’d just be walking through, just leisurely. Benjamin, he’d sit with you, he had time for you,” says Marcia Dunkley, one of the founders of the organisation Black Heritage Walks Network, which commissioned the mural.

Grape picking in the Côtes du Rhône wine region is hard physical work, but it’s steeped in camaraderie – which is why so many return every autumn to help out

The wind whips the grapevines, turning my meditative picking stance into a full-body workout. I firmly plant my legs, stabilising a thrashing branch with my left hand as my right snips off a bunch of grapes. Local people claim the roaring mistral wind makes you crazy, which I can appreciate as each arid gust chaps my lips and desiccates my eyes.

I’m at Domaine Rouge-Bleu, an organic vineyard in the Côtes du Rhône wine region in southern France. I have volunteered for les vendanges, the autumnal grape harvest where backbreaking work is doused in camaraderie.

With her latest book, the author moves detective Jimmy Perez from Shetland to Orkney, where she was inspired by the deep history, huge skies and warm people

Fifty years ago, I headed north for the first time. I’d dropped out of my university literature course – with the arrogance of youth, I thought I could read books anywhere. After a chance meeting in a Putney pub, I got a job as assistant cook in the Bird Observatory in Fair Isle. At that point, I didn’t even know where Fair Isle was. I came from Devon and hadn’t made it farther north than Durham. Scotland was unknown territory.

Of course, Fair Isle is part of the Shetland group and lies halfway between Shetland mainland and Orkney. That summer, I fell in love with the Northern Isles, with the romance of the isolation, the bleak beauty and the stories. Over the summer, I worked in the observatory with Alison, an Orcadian lass, who was there for her college holidays. “When you’ve finished your contract,” she said with the easy hospitality of islanders everywhere, “why don’t you come and stay? It’s kind of on your way home.”

Visitors arriving in any of the Schengen area’s 29 countries will have their faces and fingerprints scanned under the new entry/exit system

The European Union is preparing to dispense with passport stamps in favour of a new digital border management system.

Australians and citizens of other non-EU countries travelling to Europe from Sunday 12 October may encounter the new biometric entry/exit system (EES) and, while it might create delays at the start, it should eventually offer a streamlined process.

With turreted castles, quirky museums and offbeat art, the island of Fyn where the author grew up is a place of myth, magic and adventure

In the mirror I’m wearing enormous golden pantaloons, but only I can see them. Children sit in a rock pool playing mermaids, and in the next room there’s a talking pea in a display case, beside a towering stack of mattresses. It’s the world of Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875), one of the 19th century’s most beloved writers. I’m in Odense, on the island of Fyn (sometimes anglicised to Funen) in the south of Denmark, to explore Andersen’s enduring legacy in his home town 150 years after his death, and to discover a few fairytales of my own.

HC Andersens Hus is the city’s museum dedicated to the writer, incorporating his first home. Niels Bjørn Friis from Museum Odense says that in earlier iterations of the museum there was little focus on Andersen’s stories. The writer’s life was explored, but The Ugly Duckling, Thumbelina and The Little Mermaid were nowhere to be found. For visitors who come to Odense seeking storytelling magic, it was a little lacking.

From Athens’ beach-studded – and still warm – coastline to the ancient food markets of Palermo

Craggy coves and sandy bays make up the resplendent mix that is the Athens Riviera. So it was that at the end of an autumn day I found myself with a not unpleasant question: where to head to soothe bones still aching for a last splash of summer sun. For Athens offers something that other European cities cannot: a coastline of more than 40 miles dotted with beaches many a Greek island would covet.

The searing summer over, it’s back to business as usual in Madrid – which means dazzling blue skies and a bounty of cultural events

It’s autumn and Madrid is breathing a collective sigh of relief. Everything is open again and the intense heat, which seems to ooze out of the walls and up from the pavements in summer, has mellowed to pleasantly warm. It’s the perfect temperature for languishing on a cafe terrace with the sun tickling your skin as afternoon slips into evening. Noise levels are back to normal, which means cacophonous.

It feels like the entire population is out on the streets, catching up with their friends and chatting about all the things they want to do, the films they want to see, the new bars they’ve heard about and the restaurants they fancy trying over the next few months. If you could do with a boost, spend a few days in the Spanish capital this autumn.

From the later summer glow of Marseille to polar nights in Tromsø, our tipsters choose their favourite cities
• Tell us about a great trip you’ve had since hitting 60 – the best tip wins a £200 holiday voucher

Sibiu, the former capital of Transylvania, proved a wonderful place to visit. The city’s old town is on a hill, with every other building in the three main squares and the sidestreets seemingly a historic monument, dominated by the medieval Lutheran cathedral of Saint Mary. The characteristic design of attic windows makes it clear why Sibiu is called “the town of a thousand eyes”, and the Teutsch Haus provides a brilliant history of the region and the Transylvanian Saxons. The old town is crammed full of restaurants and cafes, and down by the river there is a local market with giant aubergines, tomatoes and peppers. For an evening glass, Wine Not has a vast selection of Romanian (and Moldovan) wines, and a black cat to talk to.
Barbara Forbes

West of Riga lies a wonderland of empty beaches, ancient castles and charming mansions for the price of a B&B

‘Is there anything worth seeing in Latvia?” asked a bemused friend when I explained my destination. “Other than Riga?” Latvia’s capital is certainly worth a visit: a wonderland of perfectly preserved art nouveau architecture with a medieval centre of narrow cobbled streets and enough quirky museums to satisfy the most curious of visitors – most of whom just come for a weekend.

But a short drive or bus ride east of Riga lies another, more expansive and completely empty, wonderland: a wild, post-Soviet landscape of untouched forests, ecologically renowned wetlands, windblown beaches and crumbling castles. Not to mention the newly restored baronial estates where you can stay for the price of an average British B&B. This region, known as Kurzeme, is almost the size of Yorkshire (population: 5.5 million) but with a mere 240,000 inhabitants.

Kvarner is a European Region of Gastronomy for 2026, and the laid-back islands of Lošinj and Cres are great places to explore its cuisine

Apart from a few packed-away sun loungers and the odd shuttered beach kiosk, summer is firmly keeping its grip on the Croatian island of Lošinj in the northern Adriatic. The sea is still warm as I plunge into the turquoise waters of Čikat bay, one of the largest and most sheltered on this long, thin, knobbly island in the Kvarner Gulf.

Croatia’s 19th-century Habsburg rulers were convinced that Lošinj had special healing qualities. Wandering along the tree-shaded footpath that runs all around Čikat bay and its numerous headlands, lulled by scents of pine, juniper, rosemary, sage, mint, mastic and helichrysum, I’m inclined to agree. There’s a mellowness to the air after the intense heat of high summer, and fewer people are on the beaches – although the island’s main town of Mali Lošinj buzzes with several festivals and regattas in September.

In Nämdöskärgården, in the Stockholm archipelago, low-impact tourism is helping visitors appreciate the region’s fragile ecology and ocean conservation efforts

Paddling through the inky blue water in Stockholm’s outer archipelago, all I can see is scattered islands and birds. Some of the islands are mere skerries – rocky outcrops and reefs so small they can host but a single cormorant drying its outstretched wings – while others, such as our target Bullerön, can be a mile or more in length, with historic fishing huts, summer cottages and wooden jetties sitting among their smoothly weathered rocks and windswept forests.

I’m on a two-day sea kayaking tour of Nämdöskärgården, a newly established marine national park, which is a vast 25,000 hectares (62,000 acres) of protected, mostly blue space – it is 97% covered by water – beginning on the outer reaches of the archipelago and stretching well into the Baltic Sea.

From a Dutch beach break to a forest lodge near Paris, there’s no flight or car required on these relaxing jaunts

There’s nothing sweeter than leaving London on the Eurostar in the morning and to be sipping something cold and pink in Provence by aperitif time (tip: switch to the TGV in Lille to avoid having to change stations in Paris).

Easy to reach by rail and a seafood-lover’s paradise, Exmouth is a perfect place for decompressing, with walks and boat rides on the doorstep

The wide Exe estuary glides past the window. Leaning back in my seat, I watch birds on the mudflats: swans, gulls, oystercatchers and scampering red-legged turnstones. Worn down by a busy, admin-heavy summer, I’m taking the train through Devon for a peaceful break that hasn’t needed too much planning.

Exmouth is a compact, walkable seaside town, easily reached by train on the scenic Avocet Line from Exeter. No need for stressful motorway driving and, once you’re there, everything is on tap: beaches, hotels, pubs, shops and cafes, alongside gentle green spaces and ever-changing seascapes.

Walking the rocky and remote Northern Territory terrain, Tegan Forder finds lush ravines, undulating trails, delicate native flowers and stunning sunsets

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The first day of a multi-day hike is often filled with optimism, despite the heavy load on your back. You’re leaving a busy life behind and venturing into the bush where constant phone notifications can’t reach you.

Our merry band of hikers – four adults and three kids – have opted for a five-day walk encompassing Smitt Rock and Eighth Gorge in Nitmiluk national park, 30km north-east of Katherine in Australia’s Northern Territory.

From a posh Scottish bothy to a new budget hotel in the Lakes, there’s no driving required on these relaxing jaunts

Sometimes, you just want to be able to arrive in a place with the least amount of hassle and instantly switch off and relax. Wouldn’t it be nice not to have to think about potential traffic snarl-ups en route or missing connections? Just jump on a direct train and arrive fresh.

That’s what these brilliantly accessible boltholes in the UK deliver – they’re all within easy reach of a train station and with everything you might need for a stress-free break on the doorstep.

From Rotterdam to Bilbao, our tipsters recommend the best trips by ferry
• Tell us about a break in a remote location in the UK and Europe – the best tip wins a £200 holiday voucher

The overnight ferry from Portsmouth to Saint-Malo is hard to beat. After work, we board the ship, enjoy a drink in the bar and wake up to the sunrise over the harbour. The scenic coastal path that runs along the Brittany coast winds through woodlands and secluded coves. A swim in the clear water and then on to the restaurant La Guinguette des Marmouz near Plouër-sur-Rance. The best chips we’ve ever had in a very laid-back spot along the estuary. We’d stumbled across something pretty special.
Kate

Free walking routes connect sculptures, murals, soundscapes and more in locations across the country – from butterflies in Brontë country to ceramics in Stoke

Bradford is 2025’s UK City of Culture, and Wild Uplands is part of the year-long celebration that involves four new installations on the moors above Haworth, 10 miles west of central Bradford. There are pink marble butterflies designed by Meherunnisa Asad. On the ridge above, Steve Messam’s 10-metre tower of locally quarried stone looks out over heather-purple hills. These works are dotted around the lake and abandoned quarries of Penistone Hill country park and a family-friendly guide charts a route around all four. While wandering over the moors, you can tune into a geolocated immersive soundscape, Earth & Sky, which includes music by Bradford-born composer Frederick Delius. The Brontë Bus from Hebden Bridge via Keighley stops three times an hour in Haworth, and it’s then a 15-minute stroll past the Parsonage to Penistone Hill. Haworth’s steep, cobbled Main Street is lined with pubs and cafes such as the Writers’ Bloc, which opened in November 2024 and serves cream teas inside a hollowed-out book. At the bottom of the street, Haworth Old Hall has a choice of locally distilled gins.
To 12 October, bradford2025.co.uk

The impressionist painter was much taken by the stylish villas and unique light of the French port, which 150 years on still refuses to be outshone by glitzy big sister Deauville

I get the feeling that the world divides into two very different halves as my two-hour train from Paris pulls into the splendid half-timbered station of Trouville-Deauville, with holidaymakers either turning left towards chic, luxurious Deauville, the Saint-Tropez of Normandy, or branching right, across the Touques River, to Trouville-sur-Mer, a more historic, easy-going destination.

I have opted to stay at Trouville, known as La Reine des Plages (The Queen of the Beaches), a tiny fishing port that was transformed from the 1820s onwards into one of France’s first fashionable bathing resorts by bohemian artists and writers, seduced by the unique coastal light, and the Parisian bourgeoisie looking for a healthy dose of sea air and a flutter in the glamorous municipal casino.

A guided bikepacking holiday is a relaxing way to explore Perthshire’s lochs and glens – with a woodland sauna and luxury cabin to look forward to at the end of the ride

‘Wake naturally. Ride bikes. Wild camp.” I’m in Perthshire on a three-day bikepacking trip – cycling with all my gear – and this is my itinerary for the day. For an endlessly calendar-checking parent of three, the simplicity of this schedule is almost dizzying. I feel like a child with my summer holiday stretching out ahead of me.

Comrie Croft Journeys is a new initiative from eco-camping and mountain-biking destination Comrie Croft, started by experienced mountain bike instructor Emily Greaves. The off-grid cycling adventures aim to immerse visitors in Scotland’s wild landscapes while providing everything they need, from food to equipment. Guests can choose to be self-guided or led – and I’m heading out with Emily to explore on a mountain bike for the first time in my adult life.

Make your next holiday more meaningful with an itinerary that supports local welfare projects, empowers women and showcases traditional customs

Eternal Landscapes offers individual and small-group trips to Mongolia, with a focus on supporting local communities. On the five-day Erdenedalai Explorer trip, guests stay with a herding family in the vast steppes of the “Middle Gobi”, an area often bypassed by travellers heading to the better-known sights of the desert’s southern region.

Far from tourist hotspots, staying with a family in a rural mountain village gives a vivid taste of life in little-visited east Nepal

As the Nepali night takes on the texture of velvet, the party naturally divides. The men sway in a circle, singing plaintively. The women surround an elderly lady who smokes tobacco rolled in writing paper. And I settle into swapping stories with the girls. Alina and her younger cousins Miching and Blinka may be draped in the silks and heavy jewellery of the Indigenous Aath Pahariya Rai community, but they’re as keen to talk love and travel as any young women. “I’m too independent to get married until I’m very old,” declares 21-year-old Alina. “When I graduate, I want to go to Paris – and then come home to Sipting. Life’s peaceful here and the air is clear.”

I’m in the little-visited Dhankuta region of eastern Nepal on a trip hosted by Community Homestay Network (CHN). This social enterprise is working with governmental organisations and non-profits such as Human and Social Development Centre (Husadec) to support women – including Alina’s mother, Prem Maya – to open their homes to travellers. Since launching with just one homestay in Panauti, south-east of Kathmandu, in 2012, CHN has grown to more than 362 families across 40 communities. This is the first in the country’s rural east.

Waterside trails, tastings and cosy inns are just some of the highlights of an autumn break in southern Germany

Under the warm autumn sun, looking out over the lake, I’m sipping tart, refreshing apple-secco. It’s a sparkling prosecco-like aperitif, but made from apples instead of grapes. I eat a few cinnamon apple chips, then move on to the hard stuff: brandy made from heritage apple varieties.

If you hadn’t guessed, apples are big business around here. I’m on a walking trip along the shores of Lake Constance, on Germany’s southern border. About 250,000 tonnes of apples are harvested in this region each year. Our trip has coincided with the annual gourmet event, when local producers set up stalls and sell their wares along 9 miles (15km) of the SeeGang hiking trail between Überlingen, Sipplingen and Bodman-Ludwigshafen (this year it takes place on 12 October). If apples aren’t your jam, there’s also pear-secco and spirits made from everything from plums, cherries and blackcurrants to jerusalem artichokes. Hikers can also sample food such as smoked sausages, cheeses, onion tarts, and homemade cakes and pies.

Field-to-fork farmers on the Scottish island are restoring abandoned crofts and serving home-grown produce and freshly caught seafood in their homesteads

‘Edible means it won’t kill you – it doesn’t mean it tastes good. This, however, does taste good,” says chef Carla Lamont as she snips off a piece of orpine, a native sedum, in her herb garden. It’s crisp and juicy like a granny smith but tastes more like cucumber. “It’s said to ward off strange people and lightning strikes; but I like strange people.”

We’re on a three-hectare (seven-acre) coastal croft on the Hebridean island of Mull. Armed with scissors, Carla is giving me a kitchen garden tour and culinary masterclass – she was a quarter-finalist in Masterchef: The Professionals a few years back. Sweet cicely can be swapped for star anise, she tells me. Lemon verbena she uses in scallop ceviche.

A new wellbeing hotel on the tiny outpost of Styrsö in the Gothenburg archipelago is a perfect base for a relaxing, restorative break

If you came to stay on the tiny island of Styrsö (steer-shuh) in the Gothenburg archipelago in the late 19th or early 20th century, there was a good chance it was because you had tuberculosis. The island had already begun to appeal to city folk who came here for fresh air, sea baths and peace, but the sanatoriums set up by the renowned Dr Peter Silfverskiöld gained such a positive reputation that the isle became known as a health resort. Those glory days have long since faded but Kusthotellet, a new hotel dedicated to wellbeing, aims to tap back into the restorative vibe.

The conditions that first drew health-seekers to the island still pertain. It’s tucked away and protected from winds, but the lack of high ground nearby means the sun shines on its southern coast from dawn to dusk, and there’s no pollution. “This island is such a peaceful place – you can really relax and recharge your batteries,” Malin Lilton, manager of Kusthotellet, told my companion and me. “As soon as you get on the ferry your pulse rate goes down and you start breathing in the good air.”

A couple from the UK have been fined and expelled for taking a dip in the world heritage site. But they’re not the only ones upsetting the locals

Name: Venice tourists.

Age: They have been turning up since the mid-18th century.

Perfect for a weekend getaway, the Petworth Way takes in historic estates, welcoming inns and spectacular views

There are many ways to make an entrance, but lurching into a pub full of smartly dressed diners while windswept, muddy and more than a little frayed wouldn’t be my first choice. At 7.30pm on a sunny Sunday evening, the Welldiggers Arms – a country pub just outside Petworth in West Sussex – is full of people tucking into hearty roasts, the glass-walled restaurant overlooking glorious downland scenery, the sun all but disappeared behind the hills. For my husband, Mark, and I, it’s more than a stop for supper; the pub marks the halfway point on our two-day walking adventure along a brand new trail, the 25-mile Petworth Way.

Twenty-five miles may not sound like much (I have keen walker friends who would do it in a day) but, for us, it’s the perfect length, with plenty of pubs along the way. The first leg, from Haslemere to Petworth, covers countryside we’re both entirely unfamiliar with; the second, Petworth to Arundel runs through landscapes I’ve known since childhood. Happily, the start and finish points can be reached by rail – meaning we can leave the car at home and set off with nothing but small rucksacks, water bottles and detailed printed instructions.

The sun is still shining but the crowds have gone … It’s the perfect time to head south, to gorgeous spots in Greece, Spain, Italy, Portugal, Morocco and Corsica

The summer has left the water deliciously warm. We paddle into sea caves as stunning as cathedrals

Winemaking in the Barossa Valley is evolving, says restaurant owner and chef Clare Falzon. But the region has a lot to offer beyond its robust reds

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The Barossa Valley is an hour from Adelaide, on Peramangk Country. The hills and vineyards are particularly lovely in autumn when they go orange and red. I moved here in 2018 to engage more with food producers. I opened my restaurant, Staġuni, in late 2024.

A lot of German Lutherans settled here in the mid 1800s, fleeing religious persecution. Many Barossa families go back several generations.

The crowds, extreme heat and inflated prices of high summer have subsided, allowing our tipsters to mellow out in their favourite destinations
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We explored Sardinia’s wild west coast by ebike with Bosa Bike Experience, who had us whizzing up into vertiginous mountain villages with views of the sparkling azure sea, then back down in time for mirto spritz at a sunset bar right on the seafront. Then back into Bosa’s maze of colourful cobbled streets for delicious Sardinian specialities like seafood fregola, smoked ricotta and wine from local vines grown on volcanic soil. The nearby beaches were perfect – some family-friendly, others wild and deserted.
Emma

My mum gave me an old picture of me sitting on the cairn on Islay when I was 11. Forty years later, I set out to find it

I don’t remember the picture being taken. Somewhere in Scotland, sometime in the 1980s. It has that hazy quality you get with old colour prints: warm but also somehow melancholy. I’m wearing blue jeans, white trainers, an army surplus jumper – and am perched on a standing stone.

My mum gave me the photo when I turned 50. She found it up in the loft. Some of these childhood pictures, souvenirs of trips with my grandparents to historic sites, have the place names written on the back. This one was blank, a tantalising mystery. Though I didn’t recognise the location, something about the landscape and quality of light suggested it was Islay, an island I’d visited just once – when I was not quite 12. So I decided to see if I could find the spot, slipped the photograph into my notebook and set off.

The German city is celebrating the renowned art school’s centenary with exhibitions, digital tours and bike and bus routes connecting landmark Bauhaus buildings

The heat hits me as soon as I open the door, the single panes of glass in the wall-width window drawing the late afternoon sunlight into my room. The red linoleum floor and minimalist interior do little to soften the impact; I wonder how I’m going to sleep. On the opposite side of the corridor, another member of the group I’m travelling with has a much cooler studio, complete with a small balcony that I immediately recognise from archive black and white photographs.

Unconsciously echoing the building’s past, we start using this as a common room, perching on the tubular steel chairs, browsing the collection of books on the desk and discussing what it must have been like to live here. At night, my room stays warm and noise travels easily through the walls and stairwells; it’s not the best night’s rest I’ve ever had, but it’s worth it for the experience.

With the help of a droll local guide, we managed to enthuse our two sons on a wild camping adventure in the mountains of south-west France

‘So, it’ll be like a DofE camping expedition, but without any of my friends?” Lying on his bed in our stone gite in Lescun, a picturesque mountain village beneath a towering glacial cirque, it’s fair to say the 15-year-old isn’t leaping with enthusiasm for our bivouac hike. He and his 13-year-old brother would rather have stayed at the beach, where we spent the first part of our holiday.

My husband and I last hiked with the kids in the French Pyrenees when they were five and three, yet they barely fussed on that trip despite walking for two full days. Back then we had a secret weapon – a donkey called Lazou who carried our packs, and the youngest when he got tired, and proved a great distraction.

Orchards, dairies, vineyards and farm shops are among the delicious pit stops on a new series of ebike tours around the county

It’s farm-to-fork dining at its freshest. I’m sitting at a vast outdoor table in Herefordshire looking out over rows of vines. On the horizon, the Malvern Hills ripple towards the Black Mountains; in front of me is a selection of local produce: cheeses from Monkland Dairy, 6 miles away, salad leaves from Lane Cottage (8 miles), charcuterie from Trealy Farm (39 miles), cherries from Moorcourt Farm (3 miles), broccoli quiche (2 miles) and glasses of sparkling wine, cassis and apple juice made just footsteps away. This off-grid feast is the final stop on White Heron Estate’s ebike farm tour – and I’m getting the lie of the land with every bite.

Before eating, our small group pedalled along a two-hour route so pastorally pretty it would make Old MacDonald sigh. Skirting purple-hued borage fields, we’ve zipped in and out of woodland, down rows of apple trees and over patches of camomile, and learned how poo from White Heron’s chickens is burnt in biomass boilers to generate heat. “Providing habitats for wildlife is important, but we need to produce food as well,” says our guide Jo Hilditch, who swapped a career in PR for farming when she inherited the family estate 30 years ago.

Tuck into great food and drink at hotels, farms and B&Bs in France, Ireland, Portugal and beyond

A hamlet of restored rural buildings in the Ortolo valley in Corsica reopened in June as A Mandria di Murtoli. Guests can stay in a former sheepfold, stable or barn, or one of five rooms in the main house. Three of the smaller properties have private pools, all rooms have terraces and there is a big shared pool. The buildings have been refurbished by Corsican craftspeople in a minimalist Mediterranean style, using local materials.

As retrofitted sections of the Boyne Burnett Inland Rail Trail begin to open, cyclists are flocking to what one day promises to be Australia’s longest rail trail – and a 271km opportunity for dwindling townships

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The ghost station of Many Peaks is enclosed in a jumble of rocky and timbered hills. There is not much else to Littlemore now than a farmhouse and a sign.

These sleepy and forgotten places in the Boyne Valley of central Queensland were once linked by hundreds of kilometres of train lines that swept an inland arc between the ports of Maryborough and Gladstone. Now, sections of those tracks are being gradually retrofitted for slower forms of transport: the foot, the horse and the bicycle.

On the border with Slovenia, the Italian region of Friuli–Venezia Giulia continues a centuries-old tradition of farms opening their doors and serving up a feast to the public

In Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere, travel writer Jan Morris described the city’s many faces and “ambivalence”, maintaining that, unlike most other Italian cities, it has “no unmistakable cuisine”. But I had come to Trieste to experience, if not a cuisine, then a culinary tradition which, to me at least, does seem unmistakable: the osmiza scene of the surrounding countryside.

An osmiza (or osmize in the plural) is a Slovene term for a smallholding that produces wine in the Karst Plateau, a steep rocky ridge scattered with pine and a patchwork of vineyards that overlooks the Adriatic Sea. Visiting osmize is a centuries-old tradition in which these homesteads open their doors to the public for a fleeting period each year. Guests order their food and wine at a till inside – where a simply tiled bar, often set into local stone, might boast family photos, halogen lights and a chalkboard menu – before heading outside to feast at long Oktoberfest-style tables and benches.

From a herring festival in The Hague to the best pizza in Rome, our tipsters share their perfect foodie travel moments
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Despite its name, Flag Day (Vlaggetjesdag) in Scheveningen – a seaside resort close to The Hague – is actually more about fresh herring. Fishmongers bring in the first catch of the year in June, the hollandse nieuwe, and mark the start of the herring season with festivities, marching bands, wearing traditional costumes, and even an auction of the first vat of fish to raise money for charity. Don’t miss the chance to share a jenever (gin) with a Scheveninger, who will tell you how this year’s herring compares with last year’s.
Olivia

A new walking tour offers a chance to meet the city’s Ukrainian community, with stops for hearty dumplings, castle views and shared histories

Before arriving in Edinburgh, Nataliya Bezborodova’s impression of Scotland was shaped largely by Hollywood. “My knowledge of this country was pretty much based on the film Braveheart,” she admits with a laugh, standing before the grand neoclassical columns of the National Galleries of Scotland. As if on cue, the castle’s daily gun salute fires overhead, scattering pigeons and punctuating our conversation with a jolt.

Three years have passed since the 47-year-old anthropologist left her home in Kyiv for Edinburgh, after the Russian invasion. Celluloid warriors have long been replaced by the rhythms of life in a city she now knows like the back of her hand. So well, in fact, that she has launched a walking tour revealing a layer even locals might miss: the story of Edinburgh’s vibrant Ukrainian community.

A trek along the Kosovo section of the Via Dinarica offers majestic Balkan scenery, magical stories and sobering reminders of this area’s recent history

There are stone bunkers shrouded in the mist on the hillside to my right, just shy of the ridgeline marking the Albanian-Kosovo border. To my left, the view is not just clear but startlingly beautiful.

I’m able to see back down to the tiny mountain hamlet of Gacaferi, where I’d slept the previous night, to look across the deep greenery of Deçan Gorge beyond, over dense pine forests and grasslands that pop with pink and yellow wildflowers, and gaze all the way to the 2,461m summit of Çfërla and the rugged peaks of western Kosovo’s Accursed mountains.

A site in the pine-clad hills of Andalucía is part of a chain that seeks to connect with nature and outdoor adventure while offering a stylish glamping experience

A few years ago, camping with friends, I watched in awe as Becky set up her pitch. While the rest of us were stringing out guy ropes on tents as glamorous as giant cagoules, she arrived with a bell tent, duvets instead of sleeping bags, sheepskin rugs and vintage folding chairs. For all the talk of breathability, practicality and “high performance” gear, it was Becky’s tent we all wanted to sleep in. In the years since, I have never quite achieved her level of camping chic – until this summer, when I discovered the innovative Spanish camping brand Kampaoh.

It all began back in 2016, when Kampaoh CEO Salvador Lora and his partner were backpacking in the Dominican Republic. One night they came across a campsite with pre-erected tents within which were mattresses and blankets. “We were in the middle of nature, surrounded by peace, and lacked nothing,” he tells me.

An eco farm in this unspoilt valley, just an hour from Llubljana, makes a great base for mountain forest hikes, lake swims and homemade organic feasts

I wake to the peal of church bells as sunlight streams into my room and go out on to the balcony to look up at Mount Storžič. My base, Senkova Domačija, an organic family-run farm just outside the village of Jezersko, is so picturesque it looks like an AI hallucination: an ancient farmhouse with beautiful wooden outbuildings, cows grazing in small green fields, organic vegetables growing neatly in rows, and a backdrop of some seriously dramatic mountains. The Slovenian capital Ljubljana may be less than an hour away, but here in the Jezersko valley, just 3 miles from the Austrian border, it feels like another world.

Bordered on the east by the Kamnik-Savinja Alps, and on the west by the peaks of the Karavanke mountain range, and with a tranquil green lake at the bottom of the valley, there’s a tangible sense of apartness – an idyllic escape from the world.

A handful of returning locals and adventurous tourists are breathing new life into Nyksund, a remote coastal outpost in Norway’s wild northwest

We land on a white sand beach under jagged black mountains. A sea eagle, surprised to see humans, flaps away over the only house with a roof on it – the rest are in ruins. “Hundreds of people used to live here,” says Vidar. “In the days when you had to sail or row, it was important to be near the fishing grounds. Now there’s just one summer cabin.”

Jumping out of the boat, we walk along the beach. My daughter, Maddy, points out some animal tracks. “The fresh marks are wild reindeer,” says Vidar. “The older ones could be moose – they come along here too.”

While it can be a wallet-friendly way to holiday, exchanging homes or minding someone else’s isn’t for everyone. Here, frequent travellers share their tips

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Free accommodation in someone else’s home might seem like an easy hack for cheap travel, but there’s more to house-sitting and swapping than a free room.

While sitting usually involves caring for pets in exchange for accommodation, swapping requires participants to make their own home available to others for the pleasure of staying for free in someone else’s.

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With rising temperatures causing chaos worldwide, what does it mean to be a tourist in a world on fire?

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“Where shall we go on holiday?” would not, ideally, be a stressful question.

But the world in 2025 is far from ideal, and summer breaks in Europe and North America are no exception. Holiday hotspots are being ravaged by heat, fire, floods and drought as fossil fuel pollution warps the climate – and travelling to reach them in planes or on cruise ships spews far more planet-heating gas than anything else you and I are likely to do. (Rocket enthusiasts such as Katy Perry and Jeff Bezos, I assume, have not yet subscribed to Down to Earth.)

‘We cannot do it the way our fathers did’: farmers across Europe struggle to adapt to the climate crisis

‘Unlike any other kind of fear’: wildfires leave their mark across Spain

Europe scorched by wildfires – pictures from space

The ‘wonderfully wild’ Grand Tour de Tarentaise trail caters for both experienced hikers and first-timers, with cosy mountain refuges offering the perfect place to recharge

‘This is probably the wildest place in the whole of the Vallée des Belleville,” says Roland, our guide, sweeping one arm across a bank of saw-toothed peaks as though conducting a great, brawny orchestra. My husband, two sons and I are midway through a four-day stretch of the Grand Tour de Tarentaise hiking trail in the French Alps, and we’ve stopped near the top of Varlossière, a roadless side valley among a great arc of mountains that runs to the west of the ski resorts of Val Thorens, Les Menuires and Saint-Martin-de-Belleville. Hiking up here from Gittamelon, a rustic, summer-only mountain refuge in the neighbouring Vallée des Encombres, we’ve paused to exhale breath, and to inhale the primeval views.

High peaks loom either side of us, their shocking green flanks underscored by an elegantly designed bothy and its shepherd-dwelling twin, and we can hear the rush of water far below. It’s midmorning but the moon is low and large in a cloudless sky, adding to the otherworldly scene. Climbing higher, an eagle flies past almost at eye level, no more than six metres away. Though we meet three other hikers on the other side of the Col du Bonnet du Prêtre, the 2,461-metre (8,074ft) pass that leads from Varlossière to the Nant Brun valley – and detect from sheep bells that at least two shepherds must be somewhere among the great folds of these hills – it feels as though the landscape is ours alone.

Beyond the tourist haunts there’s another side to Vis, with quiet beaches best explored by kayak and paddleboard, vine-covered hills and affordable waterside restaurants

I’m watching overtourism in action. Within the iridescent marvel that is Croatia’s Blue Cave, four boats holding about a dozen people each have an allotted 10 minutes before we motor back out again so that the next batch of visitors can float in. About 1,500 people a day visit this beautiful grotto on the island of Biševo, the biggest attraction within the Vis archipelago, two hours and 20 minutes south of Split by ferry. After paying the €24 entrance fee, I’m left underwhelmed by this maritime conveyor belt. At least the 45-minute foot ferry from Komiža, on the archipelago’s main island of Vis, to Biševo’s Mezoporat Bay, the launch point for boats to the Blue Cave, is only €4.

Many of the other cave visitors are on one of the countless speedboat tours departing from all over Dalmatia and crowding into Mezoporat Bay before whizzing off elsewhere. I’m staying on Vis itself to take a longer, slower, more satisfying look at the island, where I spent a night three years ago and which I’ve been hankering to revisit ever since. Despite the overwhelming popularity of the nearby Blue Cave and its speedboat tours, plus the boost in tourism on Vis after much of Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again was filmed here in 2017, I know there’s a quieter, mellower side to the island, and it doesn’t take long to find it.

It is more than a century since Joyce crossed Europe by rail but there is still inspiration to be found on the overland journey to Trieste

When James Joyce first travelled from Dublin to Trieste in 1904, he went via Paris, Zurich and Ljubljana. Zurich, because he mistakenly believed a job to be awaiting him there, and Ljubljana because – groggy after the night train – he thought they’d pulled into Trieste. By the time he twigged, the train had departed and, without ready cash, Joyce and his partner Nora Barnacle had to spend a night on the tiles.

Preferring to travel by train, when I received the invite to be writer-in-residence at the James Joyce summer school in Trieste, I wondered if I might follow Joyce’s route. But repair work on Austria’s Tauern Tunnel prevented me from taking the exact route. Besides, today’s TGV tears through France at nearly 200mph, in comparison to the 25-60mph speeds at which Joyce would have navigated Switzerland and Austria. A night on the town in Milan is just as good for the muse.

It comes at a steep price, but the remodelled luxury train from Sicily to Rome immerses passengers in the country’s culture as well as passing through stunning scenery

‘If anyone mysteriously vanishes, I can be Poirot,” said the passenger from India, twirling his moustache. It felt as though the spirit of Agatha Christie’s most famous character – best known for solving the Murder on the Orient Express – was lingering in the breeze at Palermo’s sublime botanical garden, which had been transformed into a makeshift waiting room for the 40 or so travellers about to board an Italian replica of the fabled train.

Sipping espresso and sampling cannoli, the classic Sicilian pastry, the curiosity and suspicion for which Poirot is famous was palpable as the passengers subtly sized each other up. But the only mystery waiting to be unravelled over the next couple of days was whether their Rome-bound journey on La Dolce Vita Orient Express would live up to their dreamy expectations.

To maximise the thrill and romance of taking a night train, our rail expert recommends the best cafes, sights and facilities near your departure station

You may dash for your morning commuter train, but you won’t want to rush for the sleeper to Vienna. The Nightjet train to the Austrian capital is the most illustrious departure of the day from Amsterdam. There is an art to conducting the perfect departure and the perfect arrival, the bookends of a thrilling overnight journey.

There are four major hubs for sleeper services across western and central Europe: Amsterdam, Berlin, Vienna and Zurich. Then there are secondary nodes at Budapest, Brussels, Milan, Munich, Paris and Prague. Most of the region’s night trains start or end in one of these 10 cities. Whatever your departure point, savour the moment by going for an aperitif and a relaxed dinner before boarding. And upon arrival, don’t just dash on – linger over a coffee and let the morning, and the city, develop around you.

With a bucket list of journeys that would take her from Tromsø to Palermo and Istanbul, our writer rekindles her love affair with long-distance train journeys

Snug, I stretched in the darkness, waking as the thump of wheels slowed to the tempo of a heartbeat. I could sense that the train was approaching our destination, so shuffled down the berth, easing up the blind to find a ruby necklace of brake lights running parallel with the tracks.

It had rained overnight and the road was slick, the sky a midnight blue, a D-shaped moon fading in the corner. Dawn was minutes away, and I could just make out the jumble of houses on hills, lights flicking on as though fireflies lay between their folds.

Briony Mason researches the alternative to visiting the south-west in a car from Lincolnshire

Re Phoebe Taplin’s article (Coves, caves and Agatha Christie – a car-free tour along the English Riviera in Devon, 19 August), my in-laws live in Devon and we visit often from our home in the East Midlands. It is a long drive, with little to look at along the M6/M5, and Phoebe’s trip sounded so charming that I thought perhaps the train would provide us with an alternative. A quick look on a tickets app advises me that for the bargain price of £450 the four of us could travel to Torquay in seven hours and six minutes with four changes (each way), which would probably be an adventure in itself, possibly with fewer charming spots and seafood snacks. I could read an entire Christie novel in that time, however, provided the kids’ electronics stayed charged for long enough.
Briony Mason
Rowston, Lincolnshire

Last year, two South Australian farmers were ‘going broke’. Then visitors became entranced by their Highland herd

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She can barely see me – young Honey’s golden fringe falls well past her eyes. But the 11-month-old Highland calf trusts me, allowing me to nestle in close to brush her long, shaggy coat up along her neck. She tilts her head towards the sky, her wet pale pink nose catching the sun – she loves it. And for a moment, nothing else matters.

I’m at Wildhand Farm, a 10 hectare property in Willunga Hill, South Australia. Little more than 12 months ago, budding farmers Alice Cearns, 29, and Reece Merritt, 37, were “going broke”. Their income from growing and selling native Australian flora and proteas was not enough to support their growing family. They began hosting flower-arranging workshops for the public but, in a twist of fate, their two Highland cows stole the show.

From scenic circuits of Wales and Scotland to a ‘ferry sleeper’ to Sicily, our tipsters sit back and soak up the views

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Starting from the border town of Shrewsbury, a spectacular multiday circuit of north Wales is possible: take the Cambrian Coast line through Aberystwyth, Barmouth, Porthmadog, then the gorgeous Ffestiniog Railway to Blaenau, where you can link back to Llandudno on the coast, and return to Shrewsbury (change at Llandudno Junction). There’s no shortage of accommodation, allowing you to stop and explore without rigid planning. The Cambrian coast and the seaside towns are a largely unexplored jewel outside summer.
Dave Thomas

Jveuxdusoleil (I want sun) taps into a key part of Parisian culture: drinks on the terrasse, as many fear the extinction of the bistrot

In August, Paris is uncharacteristically quiet as hordes of residents scatter to the country’s beaches and coasts for a yearly month of vacation. Businesses close and the city nearly grinds to a halt. Among those who remain, there is an eternal, quintessentially Parisian quest: hunting for a balmy terrasse bathed in sunlight for an evening apéritif.

Finding the perfect seat on the pavement outside a cafe may be a matter of a chance stroll or a timely text from a friend. This summer, though, a digital solution has gained popularity in an extremely French instance of the old Apple slogan “there’s an app for that”: Jveuxdusoleil, an app that tracks the sun’s movement through the city’s maze of buildings to pinpoint exactly where you can claim a sunny spot on a terrace for your coffee. It arrives at a precarious moment for this particularly Parisian pursuit.

Start with Andy Goldsworthy’s earthy installations at the Royal Scottish Academy, then head outdoors to discover more of his work, alongside pieces by Barbara Hepworth, Antony Gormley and Charles Jencks

A distinct farmyard smell lingers near the muddy Sheep Paintings. People walk slowly between two dense hedges of windfallen oak branches, or stand silently in a fragile cage of bulrush stems with light seeping through the mossy skylight overhead. I’m visiting the largest ever indoor exhibition of work by Andy Goldsworthy, one of Britain’s most influential nature artists. His recent installations have a visceral sense of rural landscape: hare’s blood on paper, sheep shit on canvas, rusty barbed wire, stained wool, cracked clay.

The show is a sensory celebration of earth – its textures and temperatures, colours, character. The seasons cycle through an ongoing multidecade series of photos featuring the same fallen elm. There are leaf patterns and delicate woven branches, crusts of snow, lines of summer foxglove flowers or autumn rosehips. Andy Goldsworthy: Fifty Years is a National Galleries of Scotland (NGS) exhibition in the neoclassical Royal Scottish Academy building.

27 August 1925: Favourite meals include breakfast on the banks of the Seine, lunch at the top of an Alpine pass, tea in the Highlands and dinner in Bolzano’s Waltherplatz

All readers of Jane Austen will remember Mr Woodhouse’s objection to his daughter’s portrait of Harriet Smith. “It is very pretty,” he said to Emma, “just as all your drawings are, my dear. The only thing I do not thoroughly like is that she seems to be sitting out of doors with only a little shawl over her shoulders, and it makes me think she must catch cold.” “But, my dear Papa,” protested Emma, “it is supposed to be summer, a warm day in summer. Look at the trees.” “But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear,” replied her Papa.

We may be sure that Mr Woodhouse would have regarded the suggestion of a meal out of doors as not only dangerous but almost indecent, and that the meals prepared by the impeccable Serle, who understood how to boil an egg better than any other, were served in a room from which all draughts were rigorously excluded. It is true that he travelled to the picnic at Donwell Abbey in his carriage with one window down, but while the others were enjoying themselves in the open air he was safely ensconced by a fire in the most comfortable room that the Abbey contained.

On a trip to the eastern Aegean isle with my mum after my dad died, we found inspiring landscapes, delicious local produce, and a profound sense of peace

There are no signs to the hot spring, but I locate it on the map and we drive to the end of the paved road. Overlooking the sea is a stone bench someone has dedicated to her parents, “with gratitude and love as deep as the Aegean”. My dad died recently and the words strike home. I’m glad my mum has joined me on this little adventure.

We walk down to the deserted cove at Agia Kyriaki thermal springs. There are old fishing shacks with stone-slab roofs, and shuttered cottages. Down an unmarked path, we find a rock pool where hot waters bubble gently from the sand, blending with the sea to a perfect temperature. Immersed in the healing mineral bath, I look up at juniper trees and blue sky, lulled by lapping waves and cicadas.

Mystery, history, unbeatable views and delicious local produce await in this idyllic corner of south-west England, which can be explored by foot, ferry, steam train and bus

Outside the train window, there’s a flickering reel of flowering fruit trees, lambs and swans nesting on the marshy levels. Following the Exe estuary towards Dawlish, where the railway runs along the beach, flocks of waders are gathering on the sandbanks, backed by boats and glinting water.

I’m heading for the Dart valley and the English Riviera, AKA Torbay, to explore by foot and ferry, river boat, bus and steam railway. The area promises wine, walking, seafood and an eclectic history from prehistoric cave-dwellers to Agatha Christie. It’s easy to assume a Devon holiday must involve driving, but it can be even better without. On previous trips, I’ve stayed in Exeter and toured by train, or based myself in Torquay to walk the coast path and take the boat to Brixham. This time, I’m testing the limits of what can comfortably be done without a car by staying in an old farmhouse in the countryside, half a mile from the nearest bus stop.

We don’t need to venture to Africa to see lions and zebras roaming the plains – we can watch them from the veranda on our fun-packed Dutch family holiday

There is a moment on our first evening at the Beekse Bergen safari resort that stops us all dead in our tracks. The kids are wearing the khaki safari hats from the welcome packs left on their wooden bunk beds, and we are relaxing on the veranda of our hotel room, with panoramic views of the “savannah”.

From this elevated position, we’re studying our neighbours on this 10-day holiday in the south of the Netherlands: Nubian giraffes, white rhinos, antelope, zebras and ostriches, all intermingling on the plain, metres in front of us. The light is fading and a heatwave is enhancing the African theme of Beekse Bergen. In the humidity, our impromptu animal quiz, aided by our in-room brochure, is halted by a low, menacing rumble.