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Forget flashy St Moritz or Zermatt, the unsung village of Arosa has childlike charm, with animal sanctuaries, cool accommodation and kid-friendly tobogganing

On the approach to Arosa in the Graubünden Alps, the road is lined with mountain chapels, their stark spires soaring heavenwards; a portent, perhaps, of the ominous route ahead. The sheer-sided valley is skirted with rugged farmhouses and the road twists, over ravines and round hairpin curves, to a holiday destination that feels like a well-kept secret.

On the village’s frozen lake, young families ice skate, hand in hand. A little farther along, on the snow-covered main street, children sled rapidly downhill, overtaking cars. The resort’s mascots are a happy gang of brown bears. And there are Narnia lamp-posts, which turn the falling snow almost gold every evening. Switzerland is replete with ski towns but none feel quite this innocent and childlike, like stepping into a fairytale.

Now a ‘wild river national park’, the Vjosa needs more trees to be planted to preserve its fragile ecosystem. And visitors are being asked to help …

Our induction into tree-planting comes from Pietro, an Italian hydromorphologist charged with overseeing our group of 20 or so volunteers for the week. We’re standing in a makeshift nursery full of spindly willow and poplar saplings just above the Vjosa River, a graceful, meandering waterway that cuts east to west across southern Albania from its source 169 miles away upstream in Greece.

Expertly extricating an infant willow from the clay-rich soil, Pietro holds up the plant for us all to see. Its earthy tendrils look oddly exposed and vulnerable. “The trick is not to accidentally snick the stem or break the roots,” he says. Message registered, we take up our hoes and head off in pairs to follow his instructions.

The volunteering week is the brainchild of EcoAlbania and the Austria-based Riverwatch. Back in 2023, these two conservation charities succeeded in persuading the Albanian government to designate the River Vjosa as Europe’s first “wild river national park”. It was a timely intervention. According to new research co-funded by Riverwatch, Albania has lost 711 miles (1,144km) of “nearly natural” river stretches since 2018 – more, proportionally, than any country in the Balkans. Now, the question facing both organisations is: what next?

On our first evening, Riverwatch’s chief executive, Ulrich (“Uli”) Eichelmann, gives a presentation setting out his answer. But before he does, we have a dinner of lamb and homegrown vegetables to work through. The traditional spread is a speciality of the Lord Byron guesthouse in Tepelenë, a small town in the heart of the Vjosa valley and home to EcoAlbania’s field office – our base for the week.

The historic port district – and setting for Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting – has evolved into a cultural and culinary hub. In the first of a new series, a local resident visits the venues powering the resurgence

Leith is Edinburgh’s port district, where people, goods and new ideas have flowed into the city for centuries. Here, the Water of Leith river meets the sea, and on bright days, when pubs and restaurants spill out to the Shore area, there’s nowhere quite like it. I moved here 13 years ago, and it has been a joy to watch the area evolve and reinvent itself. Today it’s the city’s creative heart, full of artists, musicians, designers and startups, with a thriving food and drink scene. The arrival of the tramline from Edinburgh city centre in 2023 has given it a big boost too.

The distractions of daily life can make writing a book a frustrating task, so I sought boltholes offering creative support and solitude in inspiring landscapes

The idea for my novel came in a rush: as I walked over the Thames on the Golden Jubilee Bridge in central London, the scene at the heart of it leapt out of the deep blue dusk and clung on to me until I committed to writing it into existence.

A few months later, it became depressingly clear that the half-hour snatches of writing at the end of my working day just weren’t going to get me over the finish line.

Change your life – or just kick back and relax – by connecting with nature, trying a creative workshop, or taking a yoga course somewhere beautiful

Playfulness is at the heart of the Art and Play holiday, based on a farm outside the Bay of Kotor. A family-friendly retreat designed to reignite joy and reconnect with the inner child, it’s one for solo travellers and couples as well as parents with kids. There are creative sessions on everything from dance to painting, as well as time to enjoy the farm – feeding the animals, collecting eggs or helping harvest vegetables for farm-fresh meals. Excursions include hikes to hidden beaches, kayaking and trips to Kotor and Budva, but there’s time to chill by the pool too; evenings are for board games, music and campfires. Accommodation ranges from camping and glamping to cabins, a treehouse and restored farmhouse.
Seven days from £695, children 5-12 £350, under-fives free, includes brunch, dinner and snacks, 3 May and 23 August, responsibletravel.com

The process of learning to catch a wave is an all-consuming activity that can prove to be a powerful therapeutic tool

I can’t remember when my terror of waves began in earnest. Maybe it was a singular incident that triggered it, like that monster wave in Biarritz, France, almost 20 years ago that body-slammed me on to the seabed, taking all the skin off my chin.

More likely is that my transition from fearless to frightened had been more of a slow creep, and a perfectly rational one when you consider the danger of riptides, hidden rocks, sharks and concussion. But for me, I feel it goes deeper. Almost inevitably my job will have had something to do with this. Nearly two decades of working as a journalist reporting on the very worst things that human beings can do to other human beings in a wide array of contexts has definitely eroded my sense that I can keep myself – and others – safe from harm in a dangerous world.

GeoKarst is a new EU-funded project highlighting a unique landscape of caves, gorges and medieval villages near Trieste

Our guide turns out the lights and suddenly there is nothing. Just total darkness, the sound of gentle dripping and a creeping feeling of unease. The switch is flicked back on and the shadowy world that lies deep beneath the Karst returns. I’m in Vilenica, thought to be the first cave in the world ever opened to tourists, with records of visitors dating back to 1633. It’s a magical sight: a grand antechamber sculpted through erosion, filled with soaring stalagmites and plunging stalactites streaked in shades of red, terracotta and orange by iron oxide, and dotted with shimmering crystals.

Vilenica is just one of a network of thousands of caves located in the Karst region of western Slovenia and eastern Italy, which is known for its porous, soluble limestone rock. Above ground, this creates a distinctive landscape, filled with rocks bearing lined striations and pockmarked by hollows known as dolines, where the limestone has collapsed underneath. But below ground is where it’s really special, with enormous caves, sinkholes and subterranean rivers. Later in the day, I visit the region’s other main visitor cave, Škocjan, where I’m amazed to see an underground river thunder through a chamber almost 150 metres high. It’s an almost surreal sensory experience, with the rush of the rapids echoing around the walls.

At first Stephanie Wood felt out of her depth rafting the Franklin, but by the end, a world of new possibilities had opened up

I am old, I am unfit for this project and I am colder than hell frozen over but I am also stuck. A helicopter will not winch me out because my only injuries are the agonies of dodgy hips, screaming arm muscles and deeply wounded pride.

And there are miles and days to go before I sleep again on a mattress with clean sheets and a pillow and luxuriate in a hot shower and can be propelled forward in ways that do not require the use of my arms.

The city’s architecture travels through time and continents, incorporating everything from slabs of the Italian Alps to meteorites that hit southern Africa 2bn years ago

In the heart of London’s Square Mile, between the windows of a tapas restaurant, a 150m-year-old ammonite stares mutely at passersby. The fossil is embedded in a limestone wall on Plantation Lane, sitting alongside the remnants of ancient nautiloids and squid-like belemnites. It’s a mineralised aquarium hiding in plain sight, a snapshot of deep time that few even glance at, a transtemporal space where patatas bravas meet prehistoric cephalopods.

How often do you give thought to the stones that make up our towns and cities? To the building blocks, paving slabs and machine-cut masonry that backdrop our lives? If your name’s Dr Ruth Siddall, the answer to that question would be yesterday, today and every day for the foreseeable. Her passion is urban geology, and it turns out that the architecture of central London – in common with many places – is a largely unwitting showcase of Earth science through the ages.

Forget draughty bunk rooms and awkward social encounters, hostels now provide home comforts and a sense of community private rentals will never match

‘Penguins? In Snowdonia?” I asked incredulously. “That’s right!” came the enthusiastic reply from our newest hostel companion. We were standing in the large kitchen of The Rocks hostel in Capel Curig, a village in the north-east of Eryri national park (Snowdonia), chatting amiably while waiting for our teas to brew.

“Head up Moel Siabod to the lake, and that’s where the penguins are. You’ll see a sign warning about feeding them,” he said. “But even if they’re hiding and you don’t see one, it’s one of the best walks in the area.”

Charente-Maritime is a more affordable, less manicured family destination than nearby Île de Ré

Dinner comes with a spectacle in La Tremblade. Before I sit down to a platter of oysters at La Cabane des Bons Vivants, one of the village’s canal-side restaurants, I stand and watch orange flames bellow up from a tangle of long, skinny pine needles inside a large, open oven. They are piled on top of a board of carefully arranged mussels and, by setting fire to the pine needles, the shellfish cook in their own juices.

This is the curious tradition of moules à l’éclade, a novel way of cooking mussels developed by Marennes-Oléron oyster farmers along the River Seudre in the Charente-Maritime, halfway down France’s west coast. The short-lived flaming spectacle is a prelude to sliding apart the charred shells and finding juicy orange molluscs inside – and just one highlight of our evening along La Grève. The avenue that cuts between the oyster beds, lined by colourful, ramshackle huts and rustic pontoons is an alluring venue for a sunset meal by the canal, the atmosphere all the more lively and fascinating for it being in a working oyster-farming village.

Noticing how out of place we looked, she asked in English if she could help us

• Read more in the kindness of strangers series

In 1996, I travelled around Indonesia with my then-boyfriend. We’d been exploring Surabaya when we heard about an island off the coast called Madura that could be reached via ferry. It didn’t turn up in any of the tourist guides, which appealed to us, being adventurous types. We knew Madura wouldn’t be touristy, but expected there’d be some streets to explore and somewhere to sit down and have a cup of tea.

As soon as Madura came into sight, we realised our visit may not have been a great idea. We were expecting to see houses and buildings dot the shore, as well as the hawkers who’d typically crowd around piers in Indonesia with food and wares to sell. There was none of that. It was just a pier next to a tiny village.

Kick back and dream of summer with our pick of seaside gems, including a stylish Andalucian bolthole and a villa with views of Stromboli

Wild, windswept and wonderfully unspoilt, the Costa de la Luz is the Spanish coastline time forgot; a great swathe of Atlantic drama, fringed with sandy beaches and small seaside villages and resorts. Hotel Madreselva, surrounded by the pine forest, wetlands, dunes and sea cliffs of the Breña y Marismas de Barbate nature reserve, makes a suitably tranquil base, with a palm-shaded courtyard, flame-walled pool area and 18 stylish rooms, all with a private patio. A minute’s walk from the beach at Los Caños de Meca, the hotel is perfect for watersports lovers, as well as exploring this unspoilt corner of Andalucia. The hilltop pueblo blanco of Vejer, a 20-minute drive away, has charm in spades, while Cape Trafalgar, a lighthouse with views over the Strait of Gibraltar, is 10 minutes’ walk along the beach.
Doubles from £83 B&B, hotelmadreselva.com

The Snowies are a well-known winter destination, but during the warmer months hiking, biking and water sports are on the agenda – and there are fewer tourists

• Read more local’s guides to Australia

The Snowy Mountains, or “the Snowies”, are on the traditional lands of the Ngarigo. On the Monaro highway, it’s about six hours’ drive from Sydney and three from Canberra.

I live in the main town of Jindabyne, which everyone calls “Jindy”. I moved all over Australia and settled here 10 years ago because I think it’s the most beautiful place in the country with its mountains, lakes, rivers and alpine vegetation.

Dipping in the freezing waters of Scandinavia, Greenland and Finland was life-changing – and full of warmth thanks to saunas, hot springs and like-minded people

Warm lights shine from the houses that dot the wintry slopes of Mount Fløyen and a cold wind blows as I stand in a swimming costume trying to talk myself into joining my friends in Bergen harbour. Stars are already appearing in the inky mid-afternoon sky.

Life-changing moments are easy to spot in retrospect, but at the time they can feel so ordinary. I didn’t know then that my wintry swim would lead to a year of adventures. I was a hair’s breadth from wimping out, but then I was in. The water was so cold it burned. I gasped for breath. The bones in my feet ached with cold as I trod water, legs frantic under the dark surface. It lasted under a minute and then we were out.

The multi-day trail between the Cumbria and North Yorkshire coasts is one of Britain’s most popular, and now upgrades, path repairs and trail officers aim to preserve it for future generations

A soft breeze tickled the waters of Innominate Tarn, sending ripples dashing across the pool, bogbean and tussock grass dancing at its fringes. From my rocky perch atop Haystacks, I gazed down on Buttermere and Crummock Water glistening to the north, the round-shouldered hulks of Pillar and Great Gable looming to the south. A pair of ravens cronked indignantly, protesting against the intrusion on their eyrie; otherwise, stillness reigned.

Bless you, Alfred Wainwright, I murmured, picturing the hiking legend whose ashes are scattered around this lonely tarn. And then, surprising myself: you too, Rishi Sunak. In very different ways, both had brought me to this most spectacular of Lakeland crags.

Cut out flying and you shred skiing’s carbon footprint. And opting for a high-altitude resort that needs less artificial snow makes it even greener. Les Arcs in the French Alps ticks both boxes

I’ve always wanted to try skiing, but it’s not a cheap holiday and I have always had a lingering suspicion that some resorts are like Las Vegas in the mountains, with artificial snow, damaging infrastructure, annihilated vegetation and air-freighted fine dining – in short, profoundly unsustainable.

However, if there’s a way to have a green family ski holiday, then sign me – and my husband, Joe, two kids and my mum – up. Here’s how to do it.

Three trains, two buses and a ferry take our writer from Essex to Northern Ireland, to enjoy wild swims, whiskey, sandy beaches and the Giant’s Causeway

Oystercatchers fly off as I step through stalks of storm-racked kelp for an icy dip in the winter-grey sea. Actually, the water feels unexpectedly warm, perhaps in contrast to the freezing wind. But it’s cold enough to do its job: every nerve is singing and I feel euphoric. I’m exploring the Antrim coast, which has some of the UK’s finest beaches, and proves excellent for a sustainable break – even in the stormy depths of winter.

Ballygally Castle is a great place to start and offers a Sea Dips and Hot Sips package that includes dry robes, hot-water bottles and flasks. The affordable castle, celebrating its 400th birthday this year, is perhaps Northern Ireland’s only 17th-century hotel.

In Western Australia, fares have been slashed by 50% this year, while children in NSW travel for just $1. But don’t expect a luxurious journey – or a quick one

Iconic rail voyages such as the Ghan, the India Pacific and Great Southern might capture the imagination with their multi-day, cross-continental passages but their golden tickets come with prices to match. For rail-lovers seeking a more humble way to hit the tracks, along the east coast at least, robust state networks offer a spectrum of long-distance options. From rail beds with in-seat on-demand entertainment to past-their-prime rattlers, Australia’s intercity trains are not for the faint of heart or time poor but their steel tentacles spread far and wide, unlocking regional gems and distance travel for those who crave that old-fashioned feeling.

Our popular readers’ tips column has been running for 20 years. We’ve selected some highlights from the past 12 months to help you plan your 2026 adventures
• Enter this week’s competition, on life-changing holidays

Poland’s capital is now rated above cities like San Francisco and Copenhagen for its vegan options. We sample plant-based schnitzel, ramen and, of course, pierogi

Pinny on, hands dusted with flour, I rolled out dough, cut it into circles, added a spoonful of filling and sealed it into little parcels. I was getting stuck into a dumpling cooking class in one of the most vegan-friendly cities in the world. Making gyoza in Tokyo, perhaps? Wontons in Singapore? Potstickers in Taipei?

In fact, I was preparing pierogi in Warsaw. Friends who associate Polish cuisine with stews and sausages were surprised to hear it, but vegan food has proliferated across the country over the past 20 years. Happy Cow, the veteran vegan restaurant guide, now consistently ranks Warsaw in its top cities globally – last year it was in 11th place, ahead of Bangkok, San Francisco and Copenhagen.

On Ulva, in the Inner Hebrides, Banjo Beale and his husband are transforming a rundown mansion into their dream hotel, while another adventurous couple have created a charming bothy for hardier folk

Ulva House is a building site. There are workmen up ladders, hammering, plastering, but I leave my muddy walking boots by the door. There’s no central heating or hot water and Banjo Beale and his husband, Ro, have been camping out here for weeks, but he greets me, dazzlingly debonair, in a burnt orange beanie and fabulous Moroccan rug coat.

The 2022 winner of the BBC’s Interior Design Masters, who went on to front his own makeover show Designing the Hebrides, Banjo’s vibe is more exuberant Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen than quizzical Kevin McCloud. His latest project with Ro, the transformation of a derelict mansion on the small Hebridean island of Ulva into a boutique hotel, is the subject of a new six-part series, airing on BBC Scotland. I’m here for a preview of the finished rooms.

The festive season can stretch waistbands and wallets to breaking point. Here’s our pick of boltholes for a new year reset – each with a spa and rooms for under £160 a night

Virginia Woolf described the South Downs as “too much for one pair of eyes, enough to float a whole population in happiness”. So where better to head at this time of year, when our happiness levels are traditionally at their lowest ebb? Striding across the rolling chalkland towards the teetering sea cliffs buoyed up by a stiff breeze is the perfect antidote to the January blues. And if there’s a cosy hotel bar with an open fire waiting for you at the end of the walk, so much the better.

This 14-mile section of the Sandstone Trail crosses an ancient landscape of hills, woods and ridges, bookended by two fine old inns

Deep in the heartland of rural Cheshire, there’s a wind-scoured ridge of sandstone that hides a two-storey cave known as Mad Allen’s Hole. Here, on the flanks of Bickerton Hill, it is said that in the 18th century a heartbroken man called John Harris of Handley lived as a hermit for several decades.

As locations to weather the storm of romantic trauma go, this – I mused as I stood above it on a crisp winter’s day – certainly takes some beating. Offering a panorama of nine counties of England and Wales from its entrance, I could spy the white disc of Jodrell Bank Observatory glistening in the sunlight, while the peaks and troughs of the Clwydian range appeared like a watermark in the distance.

Climbing, skiing and paddleboarding also feature in our round-up of this year’s charity challenges

SwimQuest’s annual Isles of Scilly challenge is a 15km island-hopping swim, broken into five sessions with walks in between. The longest swim is the 6km leg from St Agnes to Bryher; the shortest is 600 metres from Bryher to Tresco; and the island walks in between are no longer than 45 minutes. Swimmers can opt to complete the challenge in one tough day, or space it out over two – there is a party after both events.
Entry is £299 for the one-day challenge on 20 September or £379 for two days (17 and 18 September), no minimum fundraising, scillyswimchallenge.co.uk