Recipefiesta

The most exciting places our writers came across this year, from untouched islands in Finland to an affordable ski resort in Bulgaria and the perfect Parisian bistro

On a midsummer trip to Ireland, I saw dolphins in the Irish Sea, sunset by the Liffey, and misty views of the Galtee Mountains. The half-hour train journey to Cobh (“cove”), through Cork’s island-studded harbour, was especially lovely. As the railway crossed Lough Mahon, home to thousands of seabirds, there was water on both sides of the train. I watched oystercatchers, egrets, godwits and common terns, which nest on floating pontoons. Curlews foraged in the mudflats, and an old Martello tower stood on a wooded promontory.

From contemporary art exhibitions to eccentric festivals, regional Australia has no shortage of big events over the summer of 2025-2026

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Icons of Pop Art: Warhol and Lichtenstein, Mudgee
Two of the 20th century’s most influential artists, Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein have works on display at Mudgee Arts Precinct. Visitors can take a look at Warhol’s iconic Campbell’s soup cans up close, or get comically existential with Lichtenstein’s Reflections on the Scream.
On now until 15 March 2026.

Most metros use plastic or metal, but the distinctive fabrics on London’s network are full of clues to its history

When I first came to London from Yorkshire in the late 1980s, I found the tube replete with bizarre novelties. Among them was the way most trains required me to sit sideways to the direction of travel, as on a fairground waltzer. Directly opposite me was another person or an empty seat, and while I knew not to stare at people, I did stare at the seats – at their woollen coverings, called moquette. I have since written two books about them, the first nonfiction, Seats of London, and now a crime novel, The Moquette Mystery.

I was attracted to moquette firstly because it, like me, came from Yorkshire (most of it back then was woven in Halifax), and whereas many foreign metros have seats of plastic or steel, moquette made the tube cosy. Yet it seemed underappreciated. The index of the standard history of the tube, for instance, proceeds blithely from Moorgate to Morden.

It’s a far cry from the sun-kissed beaches of Cape Town where she grew up, but the simple pleasures of a seaside village in Cornwall draw the author back year after year

The idea of the sea that I grew up with was associated with sundowners and souped-up cars and skipping classes to sunbathe with the models who took over Cape Town’s beaches each summer. As a student, long nights would end, not infrequently, with a swim at sunrise (until, one morning, the police arrived to remind us that sharks feed at dawn). So it’s hardly surprising that, after moving to Norwich to study in my 20s, the British seaside trips I made felt tepid. Cromer, with its swathe of beige sand sloping into water an almost identical colour, seemed to suggest that over here, land and sea were really not that different from one another. That the sea as I’d known it – with all its ecstatic, annihilating energy – was an unruly part of the Earth whose existence was best disavowed.

It was only several years later, burnt out from a soul-destroying job, that I took a week off and boarded a train to Cornwall. I was 25, poor and suffering from the kind of gastric complaints that often accompany misery. With a pair of shorts, two T-shirts and a raincoat in my backpack, I arrived in St Ives and set off to walk the Cornish coastal path.

You don’t have to be a child to enjoy Seiffen, the magical ‘home of Christmas’ where they’ve been making traditional wooden toys for hundreds of years

I feel terrible … I’ve left the children at home and Seiffen, nicknamed Spielzeugdorf (The Toy Village), is literally a Christmas wonderland. Every street is alive with sparkling fairy lights and soft candlelight. There are thousands of tiny wooden figurines, train sets and toy animals displayed in shop windows, wooden pyramids taller than doorframes and colourful nutcracker characters. Forget elves in the north pole, this is the real Santa’s workshop. For hundreds of years, here in the village of Seiffen, wood turners and carvers have created classic wooden Christmas toys and sold them around the world.

Near the border of the Czech Republic, Seiffen may be well known in the German-speaking world as the “home of Christmas”, but so far it has been largely missed by English-speaking seasonal tourists. Tucked away in the Ore Mountains, about an hour and a half south of Dresden, it is not the easiest place to get to by public transport – the nearest train station is in Olbernhau, nearly 7 miles (11km) away. Buses are available, but we opt for a hire car and make our way into the hills, arriving the day after the first snowfall of the year. The roads are cleared quickly, but snow clings to the branches of the spruce trees. We half expect to see the Gruffalo’s child, but only spot a rust-coloured fox making its way through a fresh field of snow.

A cultural initiative in Piedmont is unlocking a trove of priceless medieval frescoes in rural churches

The Santa Maria di Missione chapel in Villafranca Piemonte, northern Italy, stands at the end of a long cornfield. Behind it, the mountains rise gently, their outlines caressed by the sun. The colours of autumn frame the 15th-century frescoes that embellish the structure’s interior, painted by Italian artist Aimone Duce, of the Lombard school. The chapel is the municipality’s oldest religious building, serving about 4,000 inhabitants, and stands on the site of a pre-existing building dating back to 1037.

Inside the small chapel, my footsteps echo softly against the walls, breaking the stillness of the surrounding countryside. The sharp scent of plaster mingles with the earthy smell of the fields outside, carried in on the wind along with the sweetness of wheat. Light filters through the narrow windows, catching the vivid hues of a fresco that depicts the seven deadly sins – a theme often revisited in medieval iconography.

Italian sweets, Irish smoked fish, honey cakes in Belgium … travel writers choose the stores and local delicacies they make a beeline for when travelling

I fell in love with Belgian snacks when cycling the amateur version of the Tour of Flanders some years ago. The feed stations along the route were crammed with packets of Meli honey waffles and Meli honey cake. I ate so many that I suffered withdrawal symptoms after finishing the last of them at the end of the 167-mile route.

In the snowy mountains of Grövelsjön, visitors can get a rare glimpse into a little-known traditional way of life – and sleep in a tipi under the stars

On the summit of a snow-covered hill, two men sit on a patch of lichen, their backs against their snowmobiles. They are wearing thick padded clothing and hats with ear covers. One is scanning the valley with binoculars, the other is checking their drone. “We’ve got a speaker on it to play various calls. Thermal imaging helps. The dogs do the rest.” The younger of the two men, Elvjin, pours out tots of strong coffee for everyone. “The main job at this time of year is to keep the herd up here where we can see them,” he says. “When they start calving, the danger from bears, wolverines and eagles increases. We need to see them.”

If I had a mental picture of reindeer herding before arriving here in the mountains of western Sweden, it certainly did not involve drones and thermal imaging. But that is the aim of this trip: to see an authentic and little-known European way of life, which for centuries suffered repression and abuse, only to be swiftly cannibalised into tourist-trap Santa experiences – all sleigh bells and traditional embroidery.

Wonderful art, amazing design and beautiful locations have drawn our tipsters to chapels, churches and cathedrals from Norway to Bulgaria

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The Tromsøysund parish church, commonly called the Arctic Cathedral, in Tromsø is a modernist delight. The simple, elegant exterior that reflects the surrounding scenery and evokes traditional Sami dwellings is matched by an interior that has the most comfortable pews I have ever sat on. The stunning glass mosaic titled the Return of Christ at one end may not be to everyone’s taste, but to me had power and majesty. Exiting this magnificent building after an organ recital to be met by the northern lights flickering overhead was awe-inspiring.
Bruce Horton

A new overnight bus service in the Netherlands, Belgium and Switzerland offers comfort and sustainability

I feel my travel-scrunched spine start to straighten as I stretch out on the plump mattress, a quilted blanket wrapped around me and a pillow beneath my head. As bedtime routines go, however, this one involves a novel step – placing my lower legs in a mesh bag and clipping it into seatbelt-style buckles on either side; the bed will be travelling at around 50mph for the next 12 hours and there are safety regulations to consider.

Last month Swiss startup Twiliner launched a fleet of futuristic sleeper buses, and I’ve come to Amsterdam to try them out. Running three times a week between Amsterdam and Zurich (a 12-hour journey via Rotterdam, Brussels, Luxembourg and Basel), with a Zurich to Barcelona service (via Berne and Girona) launching on 4 December, the company’s flat-bed overnight sleeper buses are the first such service in Europe.

By avoiding the famous hotspots and travelling in December, we enjoy culinary delights and historic charms without the summer crowds

The copper pot is filled with a custard so golden it looks like liquid sunshine. Our waiter carefully ladles the sugary, egg-yolk elixir, zabaglione, into two bowls for dunking warm pansarole doughnuts. Our conversation stops, a silent competition to nab the last one. We are literally living la dolce vita.

This dessert is a tradition in Apricale, a fairytale-like village in Liguria, Italy’s crescent-shaped region that hugs the Mediterranean. It’s a far cry from crowded Cinque Terre and posh Portofino to the east. This western edge, on France’s south-eastern border, feels more authentic and calmer in the winter, with more local people than tourists. Unburdened from competing with others for reservations, you are free to live in the present. Let spontaneity be your guide – or, in my family’s case, our appetites.

From city rooftops to seafront winter wonderlands, these are some of the best places to slide into Christmas

Leicester Square in the West End of London has its first ice rink, encircling the statue of Shakespeare that has stood on the spot since 1874. Unusually for a London pop-up rink, there are tickets available every day for walk-up visitors, with skating sessions starting every 15 minutes from 10am to 10pm. A bar serves hot chocolate, mulled wine and mulled cider, and Christmas market stalls surround the rink. The attraction is run by Underbelly, best known for its shows at the Edinburgh festival fringe, and is raising money for the Angel Child Fund at The Brain Tumour Charity (optional £2 donation).
Adults and teens from £14.50, under 13s from £9.50, families from £40, until 4 January, skateleicestersquare.co.uk

The route showcases the North Pennines’ unsung landscapes. We road test a 50-mile section that takes in golden forests, high moors and pretty villages

Up on Langley Common the wind is rising. The tussocks under my boots cover the Maiden Way, perhaps the highest Roman road in Britain, but the sense of being close to the sky – today a simmering grey – remains as palpable as it would have been 2,000 years ago. Looking north, a rainbow arcs across the horizon, the full reach of it clearly visible from this high ground. Buffeted by the squall with every step, it feels as though I’m striding across the top of the world, which is apt, since I’m following the new Roof of England Walk.

This 188-mile, multi-day trail was developed by the North Pennines national landscape team, and launched in September. Taking in lofty footpaths and some of the best-loved elements of the North Pennines – among them High Force, Cross Fell, High Cup Nick, the Nine Standards and England’s highest pub, the Tan Hill Inn – the aim is to showcase this sometimes overlooked corner of the country.

Architect-built cabins and a sauna blend seamlessly into the High Weald landscape and make the most of its magnificent views

I sat stock-still on a bench fashioned from a fallen silver birch, scanning the woods for a sudden movement or a flash of blue. Deer and kingfisher visit this secluded copse and its stream, and I hoped to spot at least one of them. There was a rustle in the undergrowth, but it was only a more familiar winter visitor: a cheery robin.

It was a chilly day for wildlife-watching, but that didn’t matter to me – I was inside a sizzling sauna, gazing out of a large picture window. In fact, I was soon sweating so much, I nipped out to the icy-cold shower to cool off. The next time I overheated, I braved a plunge in the cold-water tub.

This Eryri refuge for hillwalkers and climbers has been reborn, breathing new life into the once-struggling mountain village of Llanberis

Pete’s Eats, the famous climbers’ cafe in the heart of Eryri (Snowdonia), reopened this summer after almost three years of being shuttered. The newly minted version is a swish affair, with a copper-topped bar, distressed wood panels, local craft beers, tacos and a handsome crew of young locals in branded T-shirts. A lot of money has clearly been spent on the refurb, and it seems to be at the forefront of a new wave of developments in the historic village of Llanberis.

When Pete Norton and his wife Victoria opened a cafe here in 1978, they envisioned a refuge for climbers, hillwalkers and anyone else who was hungry after a day out on the hills of Eryri. Rain-lashed visitors stumbling in from a long hike could look forward to pint mugs of tea poured from a metal teapot the size of a rhino’s skull, huge plates of steaming chilli and vegetable curry on brown rice, an all-day breakfast or mountainous chip butties.

A series of walking festivals and cultural programmes aim to lure visitors to the Algarve’s woodland interiors and pretty villages to help boost tourism year round

‘I never mind doing the same walk over and over again,” said our guide, Joana Almeida, crouching beside a cluster of flowers. “Each time, there are new things – these weren’t here yesterday.” Standing on stems at least two centimetres tall and starring the dirt with white petals, the fact these star of Bethlehem flowers sprung up overnight was a beautiful testament to how quickly things can grow and regenerate in this hilly, inland section of the Algarve, the national forest of Barão de São João. It was also reassuring to learn that in an area swept by forest fires in September, species such as strawberry trees (which are fire-resistant thanks to their low resin content) were beginning to bounce back – alongside highly flammable eucalyptus, which hinders other fire-retardant trees such as oak. Volunteers were being recruited to help with rewilding.

Visitor numbers to the Algarve are growing, with 2024 showing an increase of 2.6% on the previous year – but most arrivals head straight for the beach, despite there being so much more to explore. The shoreline is certainly wild and dramatic but the region is also keen to highlight the appeal of its inland areas. With the development of year-round hiking and cycling trails, plus the introduction of nature festivals, attention is being drawn to these equally compelling landscapes, featuring mountains and dense woodlands. The Algarve Walking Season (AWS) runs a series of five walking festivals with loose themes such as “water” and “archaeology” between November and April. It’s hoped they will inspire visitors year round, boosting the local economy and helping stem the tide of younger generations leaving in search of work.

With stunning beaches, cosy cafes and a lot fewer people, the unspoilt surfing village of Croyde has just as much to offer out of season

It’s been a while since I’ve struggled into damp neoprene of a morning. It’s the second day of a wintry weekend in Croyde, north-west Devon; I’m stiff from an hour in the sea the previous afternoon, and the upper part of the super-thick wetsuit won’t budge past my elbows. Together, my husband, Mark, and I jiggle and pull and yank it over my limbs. Finally, five minutes later, I am in a silver-blue sea, entirely empty, save for us. White-crested waves roll in, broiling and foaming, rocketing us forward towards the empty swathe of sand. For once there are no other boarders to dodge, no surfers whisking past: it’s exhilarating, extraordinary and … really rather cold.

Croyde has long been a family favourite, but visiting in November does feel a bit of a gamble. It has a reputation as something of a ghost town in the off-season, with a large number of second homes and rentals that stay dark from October to April. But when an unexpected email landed from Endless Summer Beach House offering a 20% discount on winter stays, it seemed the ideal 30th birthday treat for my nephew, Ben. So, together with his girlfriend, Tasha, best mate, Rob, and my sister Caroline, we decided to take the plunge and find out what off-season Croyde is actually like.

The Alicante region is renowned for its rice and seafood dishes. Less well known is that its restaurant scene has a wealth of talented female chefs, a rarity in Spain

I’m on a quest in buzzy, beachy Alicante on the Costa Blanca to investigate the rice dishes the Valencian province is famed for, as well as explore the vast palm grove of nearby Elche. I start with a pilgrimage to a restaurant featured in my book on tapas, Andaluz, a mere 25 years ago. Mesón de Labradores in the pedestrianised old town is now engulfed by Italian eateries (so more pizza and pasta than paella) but it remains a comforting outpost of tradition and honest food.

Here I catch up with Timothy Denny, a British chef who relocated to Spain, gained an alicantina girlfriend and became a master of dishes from the region. Over a fideuá de mariscos (seafood noodles, €20), we chew over local gastronomy. “For me, Alicante epitomises the Mediterranean – for rice, seafood and artichokes,” he says. “But there are curiosities, too, like pavo borracho.” Tim explains that so-called “drunken turkeys” are cooked in vast amounts of cognac plus a shot of red wine and eventually emerge as a hefty stew, perfect in winter.

From stylish townhouses to characterful country piles, this selection of inns, B&Bs and hotels offer delicious food and a touch of luxury for £150 a night or less

Drakes, Brighton
Keep an eye out for deals at this glamorous Regency seafront hotel (a November 30% discount won’t be a one-off). A sea-view balcony room, of course, will cost a bit, but even the snuggest, city-facing bedrooms have air conditioning, a king-size bed, wet room, bathtub and Green & Spring toiletries. For somewhere so fun and stylish, Drakes offers real value, including the shorter tasting menus in Dilsk restaurant. Or just treat yourself to a sundowner in the bar, then head out to dine. This is Brighton; the world is your oyster.
Doubles from £143.50 B&B, drakeshotel.com

Poor weather couldn’t spoil my high-altitude walking trip amid these stunning peaks, especially with delicious, hearty Tyrolean cuisine to keep me going

When you come to the Dolomites for winter walking, it’s with the intention of having spellbinding snow-streaked peaks that are unlike anything else in the Alps as your constant companion. But with impenetrable cloud and heavy rain forecast, it was hard not to feel deflated.

Then again, this was Italy, where it’s easy to make the best of things whatever the weather. And the 3 Zinnen Dolomites ski resort and nature park – right on Italy’s border with Austria, about two-and-a-half hours north of Venice, is always charming, with the usual jumble of cultures you see in South Tyrol. Part Italian, it’s more Austrian thanks to the legacy of the Habsburgs, who ruled this part of Italy until 1918. Hence most places have an Austrian and an Italian name, 3 Zinnen or Tre Cime (meaning three peaks) being a case in point. It’s the home of Ladin, an ancient Romance language, too.

For the explorer and author, the desert outpost, irrigated by water from the Atlas mountains, is the perfect place to decompress

The first thing I notice when I walk into the oasis is the temperature drop. Then, I hear the birdsong and the rustling of the palm trees. The harsh sun dims and there’s water and the smell of damp earth. It’s easy to understand why desert travellers yearned to reach these havens and why they have become synonymous with peace. I’m an explorer who’s walked through many oases with loaded camels, crossing Morocco and the Sahara on foot, but Skoura, a four-hour drive from Marrakech, is a place I visit to decompress.

You may be imagining some kind of cartoon mirage oasis – a sole date palm shimmering above the endless sands. In fact, Skoura has a population of around 3,000 people living in a small town on the edge of the palms with 10 sq miles (25 sq km) of agricultural land. Many visitors to Morocco start in Fez or Marrakech and stop off in Aït Benhaddou, then go down to the Sahara towns of Zagora or Merzouga. Skoura, less than an hour from Ouarzazate, is an ideal stop-off point for a couple of days, or you could combine it with a Marrakech city break. The bus from Marrakech (CTM or Supratours) takes six hours, or you can hire a car (or car with driver) from Marrakech or Fez.

Where better to source what you need for the season than the places with a reputation for making it? From fizz and food to fine art, here’s our festive shopping guide

Stock up on festive fizz with a trip to the heart of Kent’s flourishing wine region. Start the tastings at Simpsons’ wine estate, 10 minutes’ drive from Canterbury, then head to Domaine Evremond, Taittinger’s UK vineyard, where its first release, Classic Cuvée Edition I, is available at the Cellar Door shop. Nearby, the medieval village of Chilham makes an ideal stop for lunch at the Woolpack Inn. Back in Canterbury, Corkk is a specialist English wine shop with more than 100 labels to try, and cheese and charcuterie platters to nibble on while you decide what to buy. Stay at the Millers Arms, in the heart of town, with B&B doubles from £93.50.

With a new exhibition of his work at the National Gallery in London, a visit to the artist’s home town reveals the landscapes and industry that inspired him

The river rushes white around each of the large, flattish rocks as I tread tentatively over the stepping stones that Dovedale is famous for. This limestone valley on the border between Derbyshire and Staffordshire is a popular spot for day trips and hiking. Thankfully, it’s quiet on this brisk November morning, and I’m able to soak in the scene: the River Dove flowing fast, the autumn trees turning russet and gold, the green fold of hills rising around me.

On days like this, it’s clear why Dovedale has inspired creatives. One of those was the 18th-century artist Joseph Wright of Derby, whose work is being celebrated in a new exhibition at the National Gallery.

The cosy cabins, bike rides and serenity of De Alde Feanen national park make it the perfect place to switch off and unwind in winter

If there are times when the sights, smells and sounds of a new destination are best downed in a single, heady, flaming sambuca of a weekend, there are others when a more slow-drip pace is called for. Such is the case with De Alde Feanen, in Friesland. One of the most peaceful national parks in the Netherlands, this 4,000-hectare wetland slows down naturally after the summer season. Its waterways shrug off their summer flocks of kayakers, paddleboarders, boat trippers and terrace diners. Museums and galleries close. The local tourist office winds down. Even the park’s population of nesting storks fly south.

A 20-minute drive south-east of Leeuwarden, in the country’s north-east, the lakes, ponds, ditches and canals of “The Old Fens” are the remains of the peat-cutting that began there in the middle ages. Now awash with reeds, rushes and sedges, its watery habitats are richly biodiverse, home to more than 100 bird species as well as otters, pine martens, roe deer and dragonflies. Hay meadows and wetland forest add marsh thistle, reed orchids, alders and willows to the list. Ribboned with well-marked hiking and cycling trails, the proximity to nature draws spring and summer tourists but treasures can be found there in autumn and winter too; among them thousands of ducks and geese, and some of the starriest skies in the Netherlands.

Bundjalung man Ashley Moran has a personal connection to the track and says the multiday hike will give walkers a new appreciation of the area’s significance

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Ashley Moran clearly remembers the first time he completed the new four-day Gidjuum Gulganyi Walk in northern New South Wales, long before it opened to the public in April this year.

It was 2020 and the newest NSW Great Walk wasn’t even a track. “It had been pink-tagged by the trail construction company, but it was pretty arduous trying to navigate through dense rainforest and find those little pink ribbons,” he says.

Crooked buildings, welcoming inns, ancient woodlands … it’s easy to see why the location scouts chose this idyllic corner of England

The door creaks as I push it back and move forward into the gloom. The ceiling is vaulted and dark, but light falls in shafts of gold from the upper windows, revealing ancient stone carvings and tombs. It’s the right atmosphere for a ghost-hunt. I take a few steps and the door clicks, making me jump. Must be the wind.

Exploring old English churches is always a pleasure. There is no one to disturb you, and in the dim quiet will be a historical jaw-dropper: a centuries-old face carved in oak, a grisly tomb, an inscription to the dead hero of a forgotten battle. Each site is a mini detective puzzle, waiting to be unravelled, often with a helpful booklet available near the door. The spirits of those who have shuffled off this mortal coil hang in the dust motes, but here, in Weobley, Herefordshire, I am looking for someone specific.

From a Tudor manor in Wales to a swinging 60s hotel in Prague, these hotels and guesthouses are steeped in history

The past lives again at an unusual immersive hotel housed in the cave dwellings of Italy’s oldest city, once ruled by ancient Greece

Diners fall silent as the haunting sound of the aulos – a double-piped wind instrument from ancient Greece – echoes through the vaulted breakfast room. The musician, Davide, wears a chiton (tunic), as do the guests; the mosaic floor, decorated vases and flicker of flames from the sconces add to the sense that we’ve stepped back in time.

This is Moyseion, a one-of-a-kind hotel-museum in the famous troglodyte city of Matera, in Basilicata, known for its sassi – cave dwellings carved into the limestone mountainside. Every detail has been carefully designed to transport visitors to Magna Graecia, as this area of southern Italy was known when it was ruled by the ancient Greeks from the 8th-6th century BC.

Travel back in time at a folly in Scotland, a parador in Spain and a German castle
• Tell us about your favourite church in Europe – the best tip wins a £200 holiday voucher

My husband and I stayed in a beautiful 500-year-old Venetian palazzo for just €100 for a double room. The exterior of Palazzo Abadessa, tucked away in the sleepy backstreets of the Cannaregio district, is low key enough, but the grandeur and opulence begin to hit your senses as you explore. First we strolled through the lush ornamental garden, then the huge entrance hall decorated with frescoes and Renaissance paintings going back to the golden age of Venice, lit by glittering Murano chandeliers. The reception area is furnished with an antique velvet armchair, perfect for sipping a prosecco or Venetian spritz. Back in the 16th century, the original owners provided Venice with two of its doges, and today the stone corridors and high-ceilinged rooms have a classy, noble air, as if the ghosts of Caravaggio or Tintoretto might appear any moment and begin painting. Breakfast of cappuccino and croissants in the courtyard served by the friendly owners was a delightful way to start the day.
April

With affordable rooms, the Hide hotel makes a great base to explore one of England’s most famous stately homes, as well as the glorious Peak District national park

Nothing quite prepares you for your first glimpse of Chatsworth. As we turn into the drive, the house reveals itself, a handsome limestone edifice framed by a steep ridge of wooded hills, ablaze with autumn colours, and fronted by rolling parkland where sheep graze on the riverbanks. Despite its bucolic aspect, this is a landscape that has been carefully honed and crafted over centuries by successive generations of the Cavendish family, who have lived in this beautiful corner of Derbyshire for more than 450 years.

Some of the most significant alterations were made in the 19th century by the 6th Duke of Devonshire (also known as “the Bachelor Duke”), an extravagant character who had the estate village demolished and rebuilt over the brow of a hill because he felt it was spoiling the view from the house. His perfectionism paid off; as the long queue of cars snaking up to the ticket office on a beautiful October morning attests, Chatsworth is one of the most popular stately homes in the UK today, welcoming more than 600,000 visitors a year.

European Sleeper will operate the new services from March 2026, replacing the Nightjet trains that are being axed next month

The resurgence of sleeper trains on the continent hit a kink in the tracks in September, when the Austrian state operator ÖBB announced that it would be axing its two Nightjet services – Paris to Vienna and Paris to Berlin – from 14 December. ÖBB cited the French government’s ending of subsidies, dealing a blow to the night-train renaissance.

However, there is light at the end of the tunnel. European Sleeper has told the Guardian that it will be taking over the route from Paris to Berlin, with the first train to run on 26 March 2026. The train will operate three times a week with departures likely to be from Paris Gare du Nord on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday evenings and the return service from Berlin Hauptbahnhof and Ostbahnhof on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The current Nightjet service departs Paris Gare de l’Est just after 7pm and winds east via Strasbourg, Frankfurt, Erfurt and Halle before arriving in Berlin around 8.30am. European Sleeper intends to make the journey via Brussels, with precise route details and timings currently being confirmed with infrastructure managers in France, Belgium and Germany.

Visiting the city hosting the Cop30 conference brings with it questions about farming, tourism and sustainability

In an open-air market in the Brazilian city of Belém, I had a problem. It was breakfast time and I wanted a drink, but the long menu of fruit juices was baffling. Apart from pineapple (abacaxi) and mango (manga), I’d never heard of any of the drinks. What are bacuri, buriti and muruci? And what about mangaba, tucumã and uxi? Even my phone was confused. Uxi, it informed me, is a Zulu word meaning “you are”.

But then I started to recognise names that I’d heard on my six-week voyage from the Andes to the mouth of the Amazon. There was cucuaçu. I’d picked one of those cacao-like pods in a Colombian village about 1,900 miles (3,000km) back upriver. And even further away, in Peru, there was açai: a purple berry growing high up on a wild palm. The Amazon, it seems, is vast and varied, but also remarkably similar along its astonishing length.

It’s on every prix fixe menu in France, but which restaurant serves up the best incarnation in the capital? I stomped and chomped my way across the city to find out

I once ate seven bowls of ragù bolognese over the course of a single weekend. I was in Bologna, to be fair, and on a mission – to get to the bottom of spag bol (yes, I know it should be served with tagliatelle). A few years earlier, I did something similar with a Polish stew called bigos (a sort of hunter’s stew). I wanted to learn about its variations, its nuances, and I wondered what you could find out about a place if you dived into one dish in particular. In the case of bigos, I gleaned that the Polish are prepared to wait a long time for things to be done.

My friend Tom suffers from a similar obsession (just last month he dropped a dozen scotch eggs on a bank holiday Monday) and so when he said he was heading to Paris to eat multiple steak frites, I wasn’t exactly surprised. He wasn’t just going for a laugh, mind you: Tom runs a pub in London called the Carlton Tavern, and had come to the opinion that his steak and chips could do with a bit of zhooshing up. Hence the recce in Paris. But a man travelling all that way to examine meat and potatoes cannot do so alone, so I volunteered my services.

Forget sightseeing, secondhand shopping is now a major draw for tourists. A seasoned bargain-hunter shares her tips on picking up the best vintage finds when travelling abroad

Marburg, Germany. It’s a fairytale city, not only because of the hilltop castle that overlooks its cobbled streets and half-timbered houses, but also because this is where the Grimm brothers once lived and studied, starting the collection of folklore stories that would eventually become their famous anthology of fairytales. Throughout the city, sculptures – some perched in improbable places – pay homage to this past, forming a mile-long route known as the Grimm Path. It’s very much like a treasure hunt.

But on my visit to Marburg, I had a different type of treasure hunt in mind and, once done with enchanted mirrors and kissy-lipped frogs, headed straight for the SecondHand by DRK (Deutsches Rotes Kreuz – the German Red Cross) to scout for pre-owned items.

Our tipsters rummage through thrift stores and markets from Budapest to Bologna

• Tell us about a lesser known corner of Italy or a winter stay in the UK – the best tip wins a £200 holiday voucher

W Armstrong in Edinburgh is a true institution. There are several locations, but the Grassmarket spot is a treasure trove. Frequented by locals, students and tourists alike, there is a price point for all. Whether I’ve been on the hunt for vintage cashmere, denim, fabulous 1950s dresses, garb for a fancy dress party or even a kilt, this store has sorted me out. It is always a favourite for when friends visit the city, and whether you are looking to buy or not, it is worth a visit just to see its eclectic collection.
Amy

The small communes of Lago and Conflenti are putting themselves back on the map with a series of community-run music and food festivals

On the lamp-lit steps of a sombre gothic church, a young woman stands before a microphone. Beside her, a man plucks a slow melody from his guitar. Arrayed on chairs and cobblestones in front of them, a large crowd sits in an expectant silence. From a nearby balcony, laundry sways in the sultry Calabrian breeze.

The guitar quickens, and the woman issues a string of tremulous notes with all the solemnity of a muezzin. She clutches a hand drum, beating out a rhythm that draws the crowd to its feet. As people surge forward, stamping and whirling around the square, the singing intensifies and the drum’s relentless thud deepens. The festival of Sustarìa has begun.

Despite its world heritage site status and plethora of tourist attractions, Évora, the capital of the Alentejo region, retains a laidback charm and boasts wonderful food and drink

The 16th-century monks of Évora knew life was short. As if to ram home the point, they decorated an entire chapel with bones dug up from the town’s overflowing cemeteries. The sign outside the Chapel of Bones roughly translates as “We bones in here wait for yours to join us”. Cheerful lot, those monks. Columns, walls, arches – all are covered in skulls, tibias, fibulas, clavicles. Rapt, I can’t stop staring, then start to chuckle when I see skulls curving round frilly frescoes of cherubim on vaulted ceilings, a whimsical touch of chintz among the ghoulishness.

Évora has me in its grip even before I come to the Chapel of Bones. This former royal city of Portuguese kings and capital of the Alentejo region has so many architectural and cultural treasures wedged within its historical centre that it’s often referred to as a living museum. But in a museum, you generally have to keep your voice down: here in Évora, there’s the buzz you get with 11,000 university students roaming round a Unesco world heritage site old town that’s encased within medieval walls.

Our writer explores the cliffs, beaches and villages of the Gaeltacht area of Donegal and sees the landscape afresh through the Irish language

Earlier this year, a trailer for a film called Dear Erin appeared in cinemas featuring bloody-knuckled, flat-capped “Paddy” penning a letter on a table strewn with empty porter and whiskey glasses to Erin, his long-lost American flame. Much online brouhaha and frustration ensued at yet another Hollywood misrepresentation of modern day Ireland. The trailer was eventually revealed to be an elaborate ruse by Epic, the Irish Emigration Museum in Dublin, to call out the tired stereotypes and “to find out who the Irish really are”.

Ireland, and the Irish, are many things. The country’s economic and social structures have changed rapidly in recent decades but that doesn’t necessarily mean the culture has altered unrecognisably. What has changed is the increasing draw to connect with Ireland’s natural landscapes. Writers such as the late Tim Robinson, Manchán Magan and the popular podcaster Blindboyboatclub have been pivotal in mining the connection between the natural world and the country’s past. The Irish language has seen a renaissance in the past few years for the same reason. In his 2020 bestselling book Thirty-Two Words for Field, Magan writes: “Irish has a rich store of words that offers a more soulful and nature-connected way of seeing the world. It lets you live more deeply in your environment.”

Laced with hiking trails, the remote valley of Lower Engadine is the perfect place to reconnect with nature

In the muffled silence all I can hear is the crunch and squeak of snow underfoot. The white path ahead of me meanders skyward through forests of larch and pine, their boughs glittering with snow. When I look back, I can see for miles – an icily beautiful panorama of crags and peaks.

I’m in the Lower Engadine, in remote south-east Switzerland, thanks to a tip shared by my Swiss friend Kaspar, when I was pondering a winter walking holiday away from the crowds. Over two weeks I’ll be exploring this fairytale landscape alone, following well-marked trails.

Ditch the skis – these winter breaks are all about stunning mountain scenery, cosy places to stay and fun activities

Saddle up for sleigh rides, strap in for a 220-metre illuminated toboggan run, and prepare to get lost in an ice-carved maze at the Snowland theme park in Zakopane, as Poland’s winter capital sparkles up for the season. Pair a snowy walk through the Chochołowska valley with a visit to the Chochołowskie thermal baths, with outdoor pools, sauna, balneotherapy and massage treatments. Stay at the Hotel Aries, which mixes classic Alpine design with Zakopane touches (local wine and traditional dishes in the Halka restaurant, furniture and rugs by local craftspeople), and don’t miss the world’s largest snow maze and the Palace of the Snow Queen in the Snowlandia theme park, which has individual chambers sculpted from snow and ice by local artists.
Doubles at Hotel Aries from £165 B&B. Zakopane is around two hours from Krakow by bus; the hotel is a 1km taxi ride from the station

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
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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