In these open hills there are no other people, most folk wouldn’t dream of walking when temperatures are predicted to hit the upper 30s, but there is an abundance of life. Ignoring us as we sit in the meagre shade of a human-sized cairn are wild Garrano horses. […]
I saw the phrase ‘meat and two veg’ the other day, coincidentally as I was uploading photos of our lockdown meals which most definitely were not of the meat and two veg variety. For some reason it jumped out at me, and for the first time I realised what a curious thing it is. […]
Ever since we first heard about the troglodyte village of Chinamada in the Anaga region on Tenerife we desperately wanted to see what the interior of the cave houses looked like. […]
Less than 24 hours later and I wish we’d bought more at the Alentejo supermarket. The madness we’d been reading about in British press reports descends on Portugal. There are queues of shoppers at each till, their trolleys piled high with produce including, of course, multi-packs of toilet paper. […]
A trip from Scotland’s lowlands into an increasingly wild north matches the drama of constantly changing seasons; the metamorphosing landscape adding its own crescendos and diminuendos. […]
We change into light walking clothes and head deep into a glacial valley renowned for its beauty in a country where scenic splendour comes as standard. It is completely enclosed by mountains – on two sides are conifer-clad slopes, behind us are high meadows, ahead tower the saw-toothed peaks of the Kamnik-Savinja Alps. […]
My least favourite part of a meal is dessert… unless there is something which awakens the sweet-toothed child that slumbers within. And there regularly is, no matter where we travel around Europe. […]
During the course of a neverending monologue from Marcia, with an “aye, that’s right” thrown in by Preston every now and again, she mentioned their suitcase was half-filled with tins of Spam. It snapped me out of the self-induced coma I’d retreated into. What sort of strange person would pack Spam in their suitcase? […]
The Portuguese, like the Spanish, are complimentary when you make an effort, telling us we can speak it well when we rattle of a few stock phrases when we’re appalling. […]
Enter a forest and an unseen entity gently detaches your problems and deposits them at the treeline to be collected, or not, when you depart with renewed spring in your step and a glow in your heart. […]
Overtourism isn’t new, it’s just taken some destinations time to stop seeing the dollar/euro signs ringing up on tills and start seeing the negative effects of what has often been partly their own doing. […]
It’s a convivial gathering, eight of us around a dining table at a rural hotel in a converted farmhouse. The food has been plentiful, the wine flowing. As the evening progresses we get to know one another better and tongues loosen. […]
After a couple of days in a purpose-built resort I get twitchy, and eager to leave. Their rhythm is out of kilter. In high season there are no weekends as such, each day is ground-hog Saturday night. […]
Ever since we took up walking in earnest, and starting monitoring weather conditions and their after effects, we’ve learned things about the weather we would once never had considered for a second. […]
Portugal’s only National Park meanders spreads south from the Castro Laboreiro to the Mourelo Plateau. It is a wonderfully wild expanse of glacial valleys, boulder-strewn plateaus, lakes and rivers, high mountains (in Portuguese terms), cork and oak forests, and tiny settlements… […]
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