Recipefiesta

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.