Recipefiesta

Known as the ‘Garden of Europe’, this easy-living Spanish region is heaven for foodies and wine lovers

‘My grandmother, a widow, sold her livestock in the 1940s and bought this land to start a vineyard. That’s where she made the wine,” says Pepa Fernández proudly, pointing towards a weathered building no bigger than a garden shed. We’re standing between two fields on a chalky road skirted by poppies, daisies and thistles. One field is lined with neat rows of lush vines, the other with small bush vines soon to bear monastrell grapes (the most dominant variety in these parts). In the distance, a sandy-coloured mountain range peppered with pine trees sits beneath a cloudless blue sky.

Pocket-sized Pepa is the face of Bodega Balcona, a family-run organic winery in Spain’s south-eastern province of Murcia. The vineyard lies in the picturesque Aceniche valley, in Bullas – one of Murcia’s three wine DOPs (denominaciónes de origen protegida), alongside Yecla and Jumilla. Each has its own wine route, scattered with museums and vineyards.

This tucked-away corner of north-west France is home to beautiful beaches, salt marshes and cider

The saying goes “curiosity killed the cat”, as if being nosy is a bad thing. As I stood knee-deep in the cool Atlantic Ocean, marvelling at the beauty and emptiness of the Plage de Port Lin, I decided this was nonsense: without this little detour, “just to have a look”, I’d never have discovered Le Croisic, on the Guérande peninsula. The downside is that time isn’t on my side: it’s past 5pm and I’m supposed to be at the big resort, La Baule-Escoublac, six miles east by now. But the presqu’île (a “nearly island”), as the French call it, tucked in the corner where Brittany meets Pays de la Loire, is calling out to be explored.

First, though, a late afternoon dip in the sea is too hard to resist, and I wade into the water, sharing a delighted smile with fellow swimmers. Two elderly women in flowery swimming caps nod a cheery “Bonsoir” as I take my first strokes. Afterwards, I wander up the coast a little way. A row of belle epoque villas overlook the rocky coastline, and I climb down on to the sand in front of them to look west at the enchanting view of the small headlands jutting into the sea and scattered black rocks in silhouette.

Stockholm’s 30,000-strong archipelago is rightly famous, but the sandy beaches and cabins just down the coast are more accessible and full of local flavour

I moved to Stockholm from London for work a decade ago. As a newcomer with a passion for nature, I remember being eager to soak up the region’s archipelago of 30,000 islands and rocky outposts. But I was overwhelmed by complex public ferry timetables to dozens of places ending in the letter “ö” (the Swedish word for island) and uninterested in pricey cruise boats packed with tour groups.

Then a former flatmate recommended Nynäshamn, which is on the mainland but embodies much of the nature and spirit of Stockholm’s archipelago. It’s home to a tasteful waterfront of colourfully painted bars and restaurants and a harbour packed with boats every summer, from simple dinghies to luxury yachts. Beyond, you can look across a clean, calm stretch of Baltic Sea, towards the island of Bedarön, flanked by pine trees and a smattering of dark red detached houses.

Find the Med a bit too hot to handle? Then head for the more temperate Cantabrian coast and its fantastic beaches, superb seafood and relaxed vibes

While we all know that “costa” is simply the Spanish word for “coast”, for most of us it has a much wider meaning, evoking all sorts of images, both positive and negative. It may be beaches, fun, cold beers and tapas at a chiringuito (beach bar) with your feet in the sand. Perhaps you’re thinking of childhood holidays in a thrillingly huge hotel, where you happily stuffed yourself with ice-cream and chips for a fortnight. More recent memories might revolve around showy beach clubs with exorbitant prices. If you’ve been to the costas of eastern or southern Spain in the past few years, however, you may have reluctantly concluded that your favourite resorts are now a bit too hot for comfort.

This year, there has been a lot of buzz about “la España fresca”, or cool Spain, but, in reality, Spaniards have been thronging the northern coast in summer for decades, decamping to Galicia, Asturias, Cantabria and the Basque Country. This is particularly true for residents of Madrid and other cities in central Spain that are stifling in July and August.

A trip to Perisher with four kids might put their inheritance on ice, but I’d rather spend it with them than leave it to them

• Get our weekend culture and lifestyle email

They say you can’t take it with you – money, that is – so this winter I decided to put a dent in the retirement coffers and take the grandkids skiing. Four of them, from a tentative 11-year-old to a fearless four-year-old with zero concept of danger and an arm just out of a cast. Sure, the whole snow experience might give my credit card a touch of altitude sickness, but at this time of my life I’m choosing to invest in memories over inheritance. I’ll remind myself of that when the credit card statement arrives.

It was a chance, too, to test out my ski legs at my old stomping ground at Perisher, in the mountains of Kosciuszko national park.

Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning

Ayr, Bangor and Millom routinely bring up the rear in coastal town polls, but they offer a calmer alternative to the brash traditional seaside resorts

• Where tourists seldom tread, parts 1-17

Tis the season to be beside the seaside – and to hype and critique coastal towns in surveys and rankings. I suppose lists of this year’s “in” and “out” resorts help tourists decide where to go; no point going to Skegness for Michelin-starred food, or to Salcombe for a laugh and cheap beer. Less obvious coastal towns provide more nuanced fare. Perhaps the most alluring spots are those where we don’t forget the sea. These three towns are routinely ranked last resorts or else ignored altogether, but they offer more than stuff to eat, drink, buy and post on socials – and are close to swimmable beaches.

Mountains, butterflies, bears and pelicans are among the natural wonders in the stunning Prespa lakes region, which straddles three countries

I’m on a steadily rising road in northern Greece as swallows sweep over the burnished grasses to either side of me and pelicans spiral through the summer sky. Gaining height, the land thickens with oak forests and a Hermann’s tortoise makes a slow, ceremonial turn on to a sheep track at the edge of the asphalt. And then, just as the road briefly levels out before corkscrewing down the other side, a glittering lake appears beneath me – a brilliant blue eye set in a socket of steep mountains. I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve crossed the pass into the Prespa basin on my way home from trips into town, but the sight of shimmering Lesser Prespa Lake – often striking blue in the afternoons and silvery at sunset – takes me back to the summer of 2000 when I saw it for the first time.

A little over 25 years ago, my wife and I read a glowing review of a book about the Prespa lakes region. In the north-west corner of Greece and an hour’s drive from the towns of Florina and Kastoria, the two Prespa lakes straddle the borders of Greece, Albania and North Macedonia in a basin of about 618 sq miles. We’d never heard of Prespa until then, but the review of Giorgos Catsadorakis’s Prespa: A Story for Man and Nature got us thinking about a holiday there, imagining a week or two of walking in the mountains, birding around the summer shores and enjoying food in village tavernas at night.

With unique views, fascinating history and opportunities for wildlife-spotting, taking a small boat across a river or to an island can be a holiday highlight

The hills of the Scottish Highlands were still in sight when the cry went up: “Whale!” And there it was, a humpback on the port side of the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry, blasting a great cloud of mist from its blowhole, then with a farewell flick of its tail, disappearing into the Atlantic. On other voyages you may see glorious sunsets, rare migratory birds, ruined castles and historic lighthouses. Unlike the classic road trip or the great railway journey, however, the humble ferry rarely makes it to anyone’s bucket list. They are a means to an end, only chosen by necessity. And yet, the UK has some of the best and most exhilarating voyages within its borders. From exciting river crossings to island odysseys that test the mettle of the best sea captains, these boat journeys can be the high point of any trip.

Navigating to a backwater pub or brewery and around one of Britain’s last wildernesses is a magical way to explore

Make this the summer you get back out on the water, with fish plopping beneath you, bulrushes shimmying and kingfishers darting by. Even if you don’t have your own kayak or paddleboard festering in the garage, there are dozens of excellent hire places and guided tours up and down the country, on beautiful rivers, lakes, canals and coastlines. I’ve spent a couple of years researching a book about the loveliest, and here are five of my favourites.

The luminous Milky Way is not the only feature that makes space feel close in the Central Desert – you can also witness the aftermath of stars that fell to Earth

• Get our weekend culture and lifestyle email

“You didn’t mention camping on Mars.”

My wife had a point: thin air, thinner soil, extreme UV, rocks straight from a Nasa red-planet image, jagged ranges – all ideal backdrops for a movie set. No wonder the place was considered for training by the Apollo program. Its sparse life forms include an intimidating shrub whose thorns mimic the stingers on the scorpions that come out after dark. A harsh, forbidding place, but beautiful too. We made shade with our camper awning and waited for magic time: the desert at dusk.

Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning

Scientific models suggest the meteorites hit Earth at 40,000km/h in an explosion akin to the Hiroshima blast.

A new company is offering swimmers the chance to cover the same distance as a cross-Channel swim but in friendlier waters – and with some tempting stops en route

From the port of Stari Grad, one of the oldest towns in Europe, we slip into the water and begin swimming out of the harbour, past the church of Saint Jerome and around a pine-clad headland to a nearby bay on Hvar’s northern coast. We emerge like an amphibious invasion force – about 160 swimmers, making our way to the hotel pool bar where drinks await. So far, so civilised. But this is only a warm-up …

On 24 August 1875, Captain Matthew Webb became the first person to swim the Channel, slathered in animal fat to fend off the cold. At the time, it was heralded as a feat of near-superhuman endurance. One hundred and fifty years later, I signed up for a modern take on the 33.3km (21-mile) swim (the shortest distance across the Channel, although Webb was blown off course and ended up swimming something like 63km). This Croatian adaptation involves swimming between islands off the Dalmatian coast, is split across four days and includes a welcoming hotel (the three-star Places Hvar by Valamar) to recuperate in at the end of each day. And thankfully, neoprene has replaced tallow.