We are not even beginner-level table tennis players but always have a couple of paddles and balls in the Blue Bus as European campsites often have outdoor ping-pong tables. Spotting one in the field near our pitch we wandered across, quickly giving up playing seriously as the breeze repeatedly whipped the ball across the table top into the long grass! We giggled as time after time one of us raced to retrieve the ball!
As well as walking, we cycled from the campsite to the winding trail around Coëx that led along the shore of a small reservoir to open fields where hares lolloped and pools where egrets silently strutted. Another route took us back to the banks of Lac du Jaunay and a shallow inlet where a nursery of mallard ducklings stayed close to mum. Hearing a clamour of bird calls we searched the surrounding trees and spotted a noisy group of cormorants shuffling and fidgeting among the branches. Climbing out of the valley we cycled up a shady sunken track and stumbled on an unusual pilgrimage chapel near Martinet. La Chapelle de Garreau has an ornate outdoor ringing chamber on a balcony below the bell tower. Inside were colourful abstract stained glass windows and paintings celebrating a local legend that Mary was seen here washing clothes in the River Jaunay.
Red poppies danced in the breeze near La Plaine sur Mer
A network of inland farm tracks took us south of La Plaine sur Mer to a natural area of coastal moorland that slopes down to the sea cliffs and contrasts with the built-up seaside. Butterflies sweep among the abundant thistles and gorse bushes and the aroma of sweet-smelling grass after haymaking hung in the air. We followed sandy paths under wind-gnarled trees to secluded beaches where families played and found our own isolated viewpoint for a picnic
Crossing the impressive bridge that arches over the River Loire at Saint-Nazaire we reached Batz-sur-Mer, where friends of ours live. The seaside towns of Batz-sur-Mer and Le Croisic were once craggy islands and are now chic resorts, popular with Parisians in search of cooler climes in summer. The beaches are beautiful and the lively towns abound with stylish shops.
Our friends live near to the campsite and we were soon sitting in their sunny garden catching up over drinks. Our friends are impeccable hosts and that evening they surpassed expectations. Collecting us in their open-top car we enjoyed an evening of French elegance and taste, beginning with cocktails at a beach bar. Sitting with a ritzy cocktail, a view of the sea and my toes in the warm sand I was living the high life. We ate in a restaurant overlooking Le Croisic’s harbour where we were welcomed with glasses of pink fizz and an appetiser that got the taste buds working overtime. The owners were expecting two vegetarians and they had prepared a delicious menu that pleased every sense. Our main meal, a creamy risotto with roasted vegetable garnishes, was a triumph of colour, flavour and artistry served in a classy black bowl. It was so perfect I savoured every mouthful and didn’t want it to end.
The next day we drove north through Brittany to Saint-Malo with a campervan full of deliciously warm memories of France and friends.
Saint-Gildas Point is a boating paradise
We stayed at:
Camping RCN La Ferme du Latois – near the village of Coëx, this is a large, peaceful and green campsite with ponds and trees.
We also stayed in two (very different) campsites from the Flower Campings group.
Flower Camping La Guichardi̬re Рnear to La Plaine-sur-Mer and the sea, a well-run site with hedged pitches.
Flowers Camping Les Paludiers – we use this site because of its proximity to our friends but it is a bit tired. It is a rambling and sandy site that is popular but the facilities need refurbishment.
From our pitch I was easily distracted from learning French on Duolingo as a dipper flew along the burn below us and disappeared under the bridge where hardy campers walked to the camping field. Further distractions came with the evening insects, as the acrobatic wheeling of sandmartins around our campervan was so much more interesting than language learning!
This was Glengoulandie, a glen in the hills between Loch Tay in the south and Loch Tummel in the north and about 15 minutes drive from the small town of Aberfeldy. Here, if all this avian activity becomes boring [never!] you can always move your attention to the herd of farmed deer on the hillside.
At Glengoulandie we were camping in a hope-filled future. Back in 2001 when a local upland farm came on the market, the community saw land that was overgrazed with limited biodiversity and wanted to manage it better. Today this land is owned and managed by a community land trust. The centre of the land is the hill across the burn from our pitch, Dùn Coillich, at 572m high. Planting and natural regeneration on and around this hill over the past two decades has already created attractive native woodland and the wildlife has followed. This positive story is being repeated in many other communities in Scotland and carries the burden of my hopefulness.
On our first evening we made the most of dry weather and took a short walk through the deer park, contouring around the slopes of Dùn Coillich and down to the burn. As we strolled our first cuckoo of the year called from the woodland.
Following the paths from the glen
The next day we had planned a longer walk up the hill but the drizzle and low cloud led to a rethink and we enjoyed being lazy in the shelter of our campervan.
By the afternoon, we were ready to stretch our legs and, togged up in waterproofs, we set off on the marked paths around the community land, first following the red route and then the green and white path after climbing the short link path. This was a total of around five kilometres.
This red route follows an old path above the gorge of the tumbling waters of the Allt Mor, taking us through regenerating woodland of birch and rowan and thickets of sweet-smelling bog myrtle.
Climbing up to the green and white route we were walking through the heart of Dùn Coillich. Even on a damp day the landscape was beautiful and the peace enveloping . The route to the summit branches off from this path but the low cloud put us off climbing higher. Instead, we continued back towards our campervan and reaching the burn we walked on winding paths through delightful lush planted woodland and climbed up to the road to reach the campsite.
Colours on a grey day in Glengoulandie
The regenerating woodland on the community land made Glengoulandie a special place to visit and offers a vision for the future of Scottish landscapes. I am sure we will be back to climb the hill.
The campsite
Glengoulandie Camping and Caravanning is a small site, so don’t all rush there at once! If you like quiet campsites with a laid back feel this will suit you. It has just a few campervan pitches, some static caravans, cabins and space for tents, so with or without a campervan you can stay in this special place. You’ll receive a warm welcome and enjoy hot showers, with adjustable temperature settings. The campsite has a cafe and sells a few essentials but there are no pubs or shops within walking distance.
We had been pottering around France for over a month and crispy baguettes, pungent cheeses and fruity plonk had become our new normal. Our French, while decades away from word-perfect, improved daily and we were firmly in the campervan relaxation groove. But southwest France was sweltering and heading north to escape the heat was the only sensible thing to do. Beyond meeting friends in a couple of weeks time in Batz-sur-Mer on the rugged coast north of the Loire estuary we had no plan. Sitting by the River Vienne in Confolens we opened the road map and turned the pages, tracing possibilities with suntanned fingers.
Confolens
A rough route north hatched we climbed on our bikes to explore from our riverside campsite. Negotiating the narrow streets of Confolens we found medieval timber-framed houses, views over its red roofs from a stone gateway and traces of the walls. We crossed the arched 13th century bridge and pedalled along the Vienne to Saint-Germain-de-Confolens where a ruined castle perches above the picturesque village. After climbing up to the castle for the panoramic view we chose a shady wobbly table at the hip riverside bar and toasted the sunshine with a heady glass of Pineau.
From Coulon we snaked along lanes and tracks through countryside where storks moved stealthily across mown fields and kites wheeled behind combine harvesters. Between Coulon and Irleau is a raft of waterways only accessible via tracks and dinky arched bridges. This landscape has been managed for agriculture for centuries and the aquatic labyrinth of conches, or narrow channels, only accessible by kayak or a local flat-bottomed boat, drains into the Sèvre Niortaise. I had to stop myself photographing every view along a stream luxuriantly overhung with trees or a boat tethered to the bank alongside an isolated cottage, as each seemed better than the last. We cycled on dazzling white tracks between meadows and unhurriedly watched a herd of drowsy cows. Cattle egrets prowled around their soft bulky bodies, occasionally stopping and appearing to look deep into the vast depths of a cow’s eye.
On our last day in the Marais Poitevin we put together our own greatest hits, joining up our favourite paths in an ultimate cycle ride. Our first stop was for coffee in La Garette, a wall-to-wall attractive village where houses with sun-bleached shutters jumble together along the main street. Our genial waiter wanted to practice his English and we gamely struggled to identify the words among his strong accent, but were grateful when he was distracted by a couple arriving on a flat-bottomed boat with a guide wearing a hat festooned with flowers.
By the afternoon the heat was smothering as we hugged the shady paths lined with pollarded trees and fragrant flowers, finding any excuse to rest. At La Sotterie we crossed the Sèvre Niortaise and followed it back to Coulon where groups of school children in matching baseball hats were chattering as they climbed into boats. I noticed the flower-hat guide paddling sedately by, not even breaking a sweat.
Once the Marais Poitevin has seduced you, you won’t want to leave and will certainly return, or maybe that is just me!
We stayed at Camping Le Martin Pecheur. This is a small French basic site, just a short distance from the town.
Leaving our bikes near the riverside Cognac warehouses we walked through the city gates and climbed streets of polished cobbles that gleamed in the sunshine. In the city centre elegant squares and handsome houses festooned with sweet-scented roses oozed taste and prosperity. We had coffee in the square and bought fresh bread and cheese for a picnic lunch by the duck pond in the central park.
Walking among the Cognac cellars in the afternoon heat we spotted the familiar names of Hennessy and Martell and I was soon intoxicated by the alcohol-rich air. Tempted into a bar we sipped elegant glasses of Pineau des Charentes Blanc, a heady aperitif of white wine and Cognac that immediately became a firm favourite.
The mainly traffic-free riverside paths and tracks through woodland, meadows and vineyards were blissful and easy cycling. We sat on a bench looking over the clear water of the Charente having lunch while red kites soared overhead, a deer peaked through the trees and swallows skimmed over the water hunting insects as a kingfisher streaked by.
From the leafy edge-of-town campsite we could stroll into Jarnac across a breathtakingly picturesque quay with locks and watermills, or potter around the adjacent island park and nature reserve alive with dragonflies. In the small shopping area we bought delicious French pastries and scrumptious handmade chocolates shaped like cobble stones.Â
Among the streets of typical Charente houses was the family home of the station master whose clever fifth child, François Mitterrand, was French President from 1981 until 1995. The pinacle of Jarnac’s elegance is the extravagant riverside Maison Courvoisier built in the 19th century Parisian style. There are a number of Cognac houses in Jarnac but Courvoisier has centre stage and an English tour the next day was a fitting finale to our time in this region.
Back in Jarnac, our Courvoisier guide spoke excellent English, impressed us with her knowledge of British novels and shared our passion for the Lake District. She led us into shadowy rooms stacked with barrels where I savoured the fiery aromas of maturing Cognac, each cask chalked with its pedigree. Courvoisier’s logo is a silhouette of Napoleon Bonaparte and the story is that Napoleon took several barrels of Courvoisier to his exile on Saint Helena.
As our guide described the soils and the Cognac year, we learnt about the local grapes and the complex blending process to produce consistent quality. The tour finishes with a tasting of three different Cognacs, beginning with the VS (very special) Cognac served in a long cocktail. The neat Cognacs were poured reverently into tulip-shaped glasses to intensify the bouquet. After the VSOP (very special old pale) we finished with the XO (extra old) which came with a square of dark chocolate and had an intense rich flavour of earthy dried fruits.
We left with new respect for Cognac, the drink and the area, and a new favourite aperitif in pineau des Charentes blanc.
We stayed at:
Camping de Cognac – a great campsite (when they don’t have a water problem) not far from the town centre.
Camping L’ile Madame – a green campsite only 10 minutes walk from the town and quiet out of season.
Both were offering discounts with the ACSI card when we visited.
Based near central La Couarde-sur-Mer, we quickly settled on our hedged pitch and exchanged smiling nods with our Belgian neighbours. We studied the cycling map we had been given by the polite receptionist and my fingers excitedly followed cycle paths heading to every point of the compass.
An area of forested dunes that sheltered us from the usual breeze was a perfect picnic spot. While we ate I took deep breaths to get the full benefit of the sharp woody scent of the pine trees. Beyond the woodland the tall Phare (lighthouse) des Baleines became visible. This turned out to be a tourist hotspot with rows of busy restaurants and shops and we bought creamy pistachio ice-cream that was exquisite sustenance for two hot cyclists.
Picturesque villages
Climbing out of the ‘van to get our breakfast bread I noticed the calm; the usual breeze was taking a day off. After a cycle trip along a lane lined with plush white bungalows shaded under umbrella pines to the supermarket and a long French-style lunch, we set off for a short cycle ride to Loix. From the salt marshes, we crossed a narrow bridge to Loix’s attractive and sheltered port. If we had noticed the looming dark clouds we would have stayed in this safe haven. As it was we were cycling along an exposed stretch of coastline when a squall rushed across like a wet puppy, drenching us before we could reach the inadequate shelter of a hedge until the sun returned.
In La Flotte we sat on the delightful promenade lined with benches overlooking an azure sea awash with boats. The village was buzzing with lunchtime diners as we wandered through. We continued to a peaceful ruined abbey, where the former cloisters have been transformed into a pretty garden.
Fans of dolphins know the best time to see them at Chanonry Point near Inverness is an hour or so after low tide when the dolphins follow the current, chasing the fish up the Moray Firth. It therefore wasn’t surprising that even in arctic conditions (I was wrapped up like Nanook of the North) we found a small crowd on the pebbly beach below the lighthouse. Among them was the Whale and Dolphin Conservation’s Field Officer and, knowing him from previous visits, we caught up while we shivered in the bitingly cold wind, constantly looking hopefully across the choppy water. ‘You can say you’ve seen The Black Isle turn white,’ he quipped as we turned around to see the fields above Chanonry Point dusted in snow. Our bone-chilling patience was eventually rewarded with an acrobatic and cheering display from five dolphins.
Scottish Gaming
Our Scottish trip had started in much warmer temperatures in the pretty town of North Berwick on the Firth of the Forth. It felt like mid-summer not late March when we walked to Tantallon Castle that sits dramatically on the cliffs near North Berwick. Skylarks fluttered high in the blue sky, joyfully singing their hearts out and seabirds were already bagging their spots on the cliffs below the castle’s stone walls. Shimmering in the blue sea was the volcanic island lump of Bass Rock, home to gannets,
In North Berwick we had more fun than I expected in the Scottish Seabird Centre thanks to an array of interactive games that are popular with children and adults who haven’t quite grown up! The games were challenging for a non-gamer and I was soon a hungry seal and a dead fulmar chick! There are more traditional exhibits too and watching the close-up film of flying geese I was mesmerized, feeling part of the flock. Used to seeing these birds high in the sky, witnessing the power radiating from their necks and wings was remarkable.
Fog rolled in that evening ending the unseasonably warm weather and lingered into the next morning as we left North Berwick. Driving down a narrow lane, a hare raced towards us hugging a mossy stone wall. Knowing how devastating it would be to hit one of these mythical symbols of good fortune we pulled in and watched the beautiful animal gallop by.
Wildlife Havens
It was chilly at Loch Leven RSPB reserve and we walked briskly between the hides around the pools. Despite the cold the birds seemed to sense spring was on the horizon and pairs of lapwings twirled in the air, their swanee whistle call reminding me of Sooty’s fun and accident-prone friend, Sweep. The noisiest neighbours, the black-headed gulls, mixed up their own raucous mating dance with swooping attacks at the swans. Unperturbed the male swans, feathers impressively puffed up, powered through the water in pursuit of nonchalant females.
The woodland uphill trail not only warmed us up but showed that Loch Leven has more than birds. A couple of adorable red squirrels bounded around the trees, a roe deer raced up the hill when it spotted us and another lucky hare crossed our path. From the top we had a birds-eye view over the reserve.
Looking out the next morning there was a colourful sunrise and a flurry of snow which soon melted. In fresh weather we walked along the sandy beach to the charming seaside village of Lower Largo. Here creative and colourful gates and sculptures adorned with local scenes and seafaring themes brightened up the streets. In the opposite direction the beach took us to Leven. Returning through golf courses we had views across the Firth of the Forth with Bass Rock highlighted by the sun.
Fine and Dandy
Shopping for some essentials in Dundee we admired The Discovery, one of Scott’s ships displayed on the quayside, and stumbled upon the amusing and energetic Desperate Dan statue. The publishers of The Dandy and Beano comics were based in Dundee and a life-size Dan struts confidently across a square dragging his sidekick Dawg on a lead while Minnie the Minx is ready with her catapult.
Before driving to the campsite at Stonehaven, a favourite of ours, we stopped at Fowlsheugh Cliffs.  Even this early in spring this crinkly coastline was packed with noisy kittiwakes, the birds balancing on the narrow ledges of their high-rise accommodation. Stonehaven campsite has fabulous coastal cliff walking, a castle and a picturesque harbour on the doorstep. An added bonus are the quirky metal sculptures of boats, planes and lighthouses that line the bay, but don’t take my word for it, if you’ve never been add it to your list!
The cliff path to Dunnottar Castle is packed with breathtaking views, starting with Stonehaven and its harbour. Spring weather had blown in and we stopped at the temple-like war memorial to take in the panoramic views that now included the towers of Dunnottar Castle that perches on a rocky outcrop above the sea. We’ve visited the castle before so returned through Dunnottar Woods where, judging by the profusion of tiny doorways, the fairies hang out.
Happiness Comes in Waves
Heading north, we were treated to the magical sight of a marsh harrier at Loch of Strathbeg. Parking at the ruined Rattray Chapel that overlooks the loch we had lunch watching the birds. The narrow road deteriorates after the chapel so we hiked the mile or so to Rattray Head, a remote and striking stretch of coast. Sand dunes sculpted by the wind and sea to form mini-mountains covered in spiky grasses that whispered in the wind led us to the beach. The tide was high and water surrounded the small lighthouse. Walking along the beach watching the waves and the cormorants we felt so lucky to have this spot to ourselves.
The sea stayed close at the Fraserburgh campsite and as warming sun streamed through the ‘van windows I was comfy watching the tides, the surfers and some hardy swimmers in the bay. Anthony muttered about salt and mud and made the most of the good weather to clean the worst muck off the ‘van. Later we strolled around the harbour packed with boats of different sizes and colours and watched scores of herring gulls skilfully wheeling through the air, amazed you never see them collide.
Later we walked along Fraserburgh Bay, a sweep of golden sand where children paddled in a shallow stream and gleefully raced up and down the largest sand dune. At the end of the bay we headed inland by a serene river and returned on sheltered paths between the dunes.
Back on the road we pulled in to Cullykhan Beach car park for a short walk by a stream that tumbles through a gorge to a delightful sandy cove. Beyond we could see the row of white cottages of Pennan. We have explored this north-facing coast between Fraserburgh and Inverness many times and I have happy memories of the beaches, cliffs and picturesque villages but there are still new corners to explore.
Tweet of the Day
A bumpy farm track took us to the car park for Troup Head where RSPB signs directed us to the cliffs where gannets nest. Graceful gannets always take my breath away. About as big as a goose, gannets are experts in elegance as well as being accomplished fishers. Close up we could see their heads were the colour of thick clotted cream and their fearsome-looking beaks were baby-soft blue. Huge-winged gannets soared below us, their throaty call filling the air and we watched others gathering clumps of grass for nesting.
We had never visited Lossiemouth so, as the weather cranked up for an autumn-like wet and windy storm, we pulled into the East Beach car park hoping to explore. In a break in the heavy showers we strolled around the harbour and the grid pattern of streets before battening down for a windy night in the ‘van. Always looking for the bright side, Anthony hoped the torrential rain would clean off some of the mud we had picked up during the day.
Culbin Forest and Nairn’s East Beach are so vast, even though we have visited before we were soon on unfamiliar paths through the fragrant pine trees. There is plenty of space for everyone here and even though Nairn isn’t far away we easily found quiet corners. Leaving the trees and dunes we reached the sandy beach and I spotted handsome black and white oystercatchers with their long orange beaks that are perfectly designed for probing mud. As they deftly flew along the tideline we grinned at each other as we heard their exuberant sharp calls.
Dancing Dolphins
If you’re lucky at the Rosemarkie campsite you will bag one of the pitches with an uninterrupted sea view. We were fortunate perhaps because everyone else had seen the wintery weather forecast and stayed home. It was bitterly cold and the next morning we once again woke to sleet. Undeterred, after breakfast we walked along the shore to Chanonry Point, the best land-based place in Scotland to watch dolphins. After our amazing dolphin encounter we thawed out in the ‘van and spent a cosy afternoon relaxing, eating and drinking, occasionally glancing up to watch the birds on the shore.
The bonny Cromarty Firth was dotted with a bizarre collection of rustic (or rusting) defunct oil platforms. These strangely beautiful structures loom like industrial dinosaurs and contrast sharply with the picturesque cottages and attractive streets of Cromarty. Striding out along The Links we came upon The Emigration Stone, a tall artwork that commemorates the ships packed with people that left these shores for the New World. It is inscribed with the description of one ship’s bittersweet departure.
We have been to Scotland more times than I have fingers and toes to count on so it is remarkable that we still find new and awesome sights to see, but then it is an outstanding country. As usual we experienced every season but there is no doubt we will be back again for pizza and dolphins and so much more.
Three days and five trains, plus one planned replacement bus, across Europe to Firenze [Florence] in Tuscany and not a hitch. Given our experiences of appalling train reliability in the northwest of England, this seemed remarkable.
Why Travel by Train?
We have been trying to save the planet for decades and choosing sustainable travel options is second nature. We first travelled across Europe by train in 1991 with our five-year old son. Strikes in France disrupted the ferries and the trains on that journey and our trip to Milan was memorable for a lot of waiting around, some thoughtful French train staff and not always having enough food. For some reason, we were not put off and continued to use public transport to Slovakia, Spain, Germany and Austria through the 90s and 2000s
Since buying a campervan, our train travel has been in the UK and from campsites. We wanted to travel on the rails across Europe once again.
Why Firenze?
Somehow, we have travelled around Firenze and Tuscany plenty of times but never visited the city. Everytime, we thought about how busy it would be and how hot and bothered we would get and we stayed in the countryside. It was last winter’s jigsaw project that inspired us. The jigsaw showed the Duomo di Firenze and, as we worked on the pieces, a plan to visit began to emerge. Firenze is easy to reach by train, has plenty of accommodation, lots to see and do and the Duomo looked awesome! An out of season trip sounded perfect.
The Journey, Day One
The Lancaster to London Euston train was the part of the journey I was most nervous about but Avanti managed to run a service. We gave ourselves plenty of time for a leisurely walk to St Pancras via Camden. We had selected an evening Eurostar as this was cheaper and the journey was uneventful. A top tip was to buy Metro tickets on the Eurostar so that we could get straight to our hotel when we arrived. We stayed at the Novotel right outside the Gare de Lyon, which I highly recommend.
The Journey, Day Two
Leaving our bags at the hotel, we walked to the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, as our Gare du Lyon train didn’t leave until mid-afternoon. This vast cemetery is crammed with monumental graves, arranged around rows of narrow paths that climb the hillside. There are so many famous people buried here, you will want to look out your own heroes. We firstly looked for the grave of the author Colette, finding a simple black granite stone adorned with flowers. Oscar Wilde’s grave was a modernist fanciful creation in concrete. Cobbled lanes and narrow earth paths wind around the hillside and we eventually found Jim Morrison’s grave. This American singer-songwriter and lead singer with the band The Doors is popular. His life was not without controversy and his actions not always exemplary but we came in respect of his music.
The 14.48 TGV from the Gare de Lyon to Milano hurtled through the French countryside faster than our campervan. We cruised through the snow-covered mountains in the dusk until we reached Saint Jean-de-Maurienne, where, thanks to a landslide, we had to leave the train for a replacement bus through the Frejus Tunnel to Oulx. We had about 40 minutes to wait in Oulx in the chilly mountain air before the train arrived for the last stretch. We arrived in Torino [Turin] at around 22.00 and walked briskly to The Turin Paradise Hotel.
Torino
Day Three in Torino
Torino has been on my must-visit list since I saw The Italian Job and the minis racing through all those arcades. Breaking our journey here for a couple of days was an easy thing to arrange when we booked our tickets with Rail Europe.
Everything about The Paradise Hotel was lavish, including the breakfast buffet. Served in a high ceilinged airy room there were cheeses, yoghurts, cereals, fruit and veg, different breads, four types of honey and a whole table stacked with various croissants, including charcoal ones! This was better than anything we could serve up in our campervan.
Vermouth rosso [rojo in Spain] is one of my passions and Torino is where this aperitif was first concocted. At the stylish hotel bar we ordered vermouth rosso and the bartender spotted two interested amateurs and organised an impromtu tasting. Having chosen our vermouth he poured glasses, added a curl of lemon and bought bowls of olives, crisps and peanuts. This felt such a luxurious start to our evening we needed bringing back down to earth and we ate in the nearby M**Bun, a slow fast-food restaurant.
The Journey, Day Four
Our final train to Firenze was just three hours. There was no buffet car, just a vending machine that dispensed nothing that resembled coffee! The appartment we had booked was about 25 minutes walk across the River Arno. We had a week in a flat that overlooked The Boboli Gardens and we felt in the centre of things. We dropped our bags and set off to explore.
Walking in and around Firenze
Over the next seven days, we walked around the city, getting our bearings and enjoying finding quiet corners as much as the big sights. We crossed the Ponte Vecchio many times, had evening aperitifs in the Piazza di Santo Spirito and were often drawn to the Duomo, just to enjoy its magnificence.
The dancing starlings in the evening sky in Piazza Santa Maria Novella was one of the unforgetable sights and sounds of Firenze. This grand piazza was also where we joined the rally to remember Ukraine on the second anniversary of the full-scale war and invasion by Russia and it became a special place for us.
Bellosguardo – Steep hilly lanes from Porta Romana in the southwest of Firenze took us along the Via San Carlo and to Bellosguardo. Dotted with grand villas, olive groves and vineyards the views over Florence were wide. Cimitero di Soffiano, a vast cemetery with burials on different levels and an art deco style was a highlight on this walk.
Fiesoleto Settignano – The number seven bus climbed high into the hills of northeast Firenze to Fiesole. After coffee, we visited the remains of a Roman theatre and baths and an Etruscan Temple. Setting off hiking, we followed narrow lanes and tracks to Monte Ceceri, a maze of trees and small quarries. The network of paths was confusing and online maps such as Lokus and Komoot were useful. At viewpoints we stopped to enjoy the panoramas over Firenze. It was a spring-like day, the birds were singing and breathing in we got a lungful of pine. We descended into Maiano and then doubled back, contouring around the hillside on paths through varied woodland and by terraced olive groves. This part of the walk was much quieter than Monte Ceceri. A damp path took us steeply down to a stream and then climbed up to the houses of Settignano that perched on the hillside. In this sleepy village we caught the next bus back to Firenze.
South of the River Arno along Via Colli to Piazzale Michelangelo – Skirting around the Boboli Gardens, lanes packed with villas took us to Forte Belvedere, which wasn’t yet open for the season. Following Via Colli we wound above Firenze, each turn opening up new views over the city. We turned off the main road, picking up paths to Chiesa di San Miniato al Monte. The church is surrounded by a crowded cemetery and has Firenze spread below. Piazzale Michelangelo thronged with visitors, even in February, but the views of the River Arno, the bridges and the magnificent Duomo are spectacular. We descended through a pretty garden with sculptures.
We visited some sights
The Boboli Gardens cost €10 per person and are perfect for strolling, although beyond green there is little colour from flowers. In February they close at 16.30 and for the last 20 minutes a continuous announcement that the garden is closing is broadcast. This reverberates around the, until then, peaceful gardens! We felt we were in a public announcement torture chamber!
The Galleria dell’Accademia for a dose of art and to see Michelangelo’s David. We had to queue for about 30 minutes, even in February!
The Duomo is a full day in itself. We booked Brunelleschi tickets that can be used over three days, although you still have to join queues. We climbed the cupola and the campanile [both 400+ steps] because we love getting above the roofs of a city. The views were astounding. We also visited the interior. Travel light as you will be searched over and over again!
Palazzo Davanzati is a Firenze palazzo on four floors and arranged around a covered atrium with internal balconies. The rooms are all interesting and sumptuously decorated and at the top of the house is the kitchen. There are vases and paintings and ornate furniture from different centuries from the 14th to the 19th centuries. For €6 this was great value in a generally expensive city and interesting and I am suprised how few people seem to visit.
Museo Galileo – Seeing the actual telescopes that belonged to Galileo was astonishing and it was hard for other exhibits to compare to this. It is the place to help you appreciate intricate and shiny scientifi instruments as works of art. There is also an interactive room where we could play at being Galileo!
We visited a couple of churches – The Basilica di San Lorenzo had an austere air to it but the cloisters are light and airy. There are paintings and sculptures by Donatello. Santa Croce, a Franciscan Monastery in front of a handsome piazza, has many memorials and frescoes and double cloisters. There was some information about the 1966 flood that caused so much devastation.
Siena – It was a chilly grey day when we caught the train to Siena for the one hour and twenty minutes journey. Steps and escalators climb up to the city level inside the walls. The streets are narrow and hemmed in by stone buildings, that open up at Il Campo, an undulating public space used for horse racing twice a year. Santa Maria della Scala was the highlight of our Siena trip, this large building complex is a former hospital and is now a museum and art gallery on many floors. The 15th century frescoes showing life in the hospital delighted us with their colour and life, telling stories of the everyday. This warren-like building had other exhibitions, including works by 20th century artist Giuseppe Gavazzi.
A couple of notable places to eat
Caffe Scudieri near the Duomo was expensive but charming. The pinenut torta was tasty and not too sweet and the cappuccino was the best ever, the perfect combination of bitterness and creamy smoothness.
Brac, a bookshop and restaurant that is all veggie and all delicious. We ate surrounded by shelves of bottles of wine and cookery books and had a piatto unico each. This was three dishes, a salad, a pasta and a special dish. The food was elegantly presented and so tasty. The ginger sauce on my tortellini was exquisite. Anthony’s fennel salad was fresh and the pasta with a spicy sauce was excellent. My mouth is still watering thinking of this meal!
Return Journey
Day One – Firenze to Torino and Torino to Paris, with a replacement bus service in the opposite direction. We stayed at the same hotel in Paris.
Day Two – Paris to London and London to Lancaster.
Summing up
We were away for eleven nights, seven in a self-contained flat and four in hotels. The whole trip cost us around £3,000. It is more expensive than a campervan trip but the train was a more sustainable way to travel for such a distance.
Travelling by train still felt like the perfect way to cross long distances in Europe, meet people, experience different cultures and relax while the scenery passes the window. We used the expertise of The Man in Seat 61 in our planning and if you’re thinking of doing a similar trip, this is a good place to start.
Firenze in February seemed busy but I guess this is nothing compared to summer months there. I couldn’t describe it as peaceful and the backdrop in the city centre is the constant rumble of suitcase wheels. Those of us who fling a rucksack on our backs have no comprehension why these are so popular! The weather was mixed with some fine spring-like days and some wet and chilly days. The good thing about a city holiday is that the weather doesn’t really matter.
The Derbyshire market town of Buxton is famous for water; having the highest market place and its graciously curved Georgian crescent. We have visited many times and find it perfect for two campervanners who like hiking. Buxton has a number of campsites [see below] and does offer sights for those who don’t want to spend the day in the surrounding countryside. But if, like us, you enjoy a warm day in the great outdoors, below are five of my favourite walks for five days camping in Buxton.
The distances on the walks below are approximate and are based on walking from the Caravan and Motorhome Club’s Buxton site. I haven’t given step-by-step directions but the paths in this popular part of the country are well-walked and I hope that you can pick up our route [or make up your own] from an OS map.
Day One – Exploring Buxton [at least 7kms]
Buxton’s heritage trail leaflet will help you make the most of a stroll around the town. But first you have to walk to the town centre and leaving the campsite, you will immediately be distracted by the delightful paths through Grin Low Woods and to Solomon’s Temple.
Solomon’s Temple is a perfect introduction to Buxton. Climb the winding staircase of the hilltop tower and Buxton is laid before you, clustered around the dominating slate-grey Devonshire Dome.
Having taken in the view, we head downhill on the woodland paths with occasional wooden sculptures and reaching the streets by Poole’s Cavern. If you’ve never visited you might want to dally and explore this underground cavern.
We like to amble through the town’s restored Pavilion Gardens. There might be an art fair being held in the Octagon Hall or we will idly watch the ducks and look hopefully for chicks on the lake. I also like to admire the preserved tree trunk sculpted into figures and animals that stands in the park. The water-carrying figure of Arnemetia is a reminder that in Roman times Buxton was named Aquae Arnemetiae after this Romano-British goddess.
Our next stop is The Crescent, a Georgian grade one listed masterpiece and the pride of Buxton, recently restored as a luxury hotel. The gracious symmetrical curve of the stone building, the ground floor colonnade and fountains playing at the front are stunning. Opposite is St Anne’s Well which is decorated with flowers in the annual well dressing, a tradition followed in many Derbyshire villages and towns. The Pump Room has a tap and souvenir glass bottles, and I did once fill one with Buxton spa water to taste the lukewarm mineral-rich water. It is an aquired taste!
Buxton’s spring water emerges from the ground at around 28°C and has been exploited since the Romans, who built a bath and threw coins into the spring for luck. In the 16th century visitors took the water and in the Georgian era the Duke of Devonshire developed a spa resort. A ‘Well Woman’ was appointed to care for the well and tourists, a post that continued into the 20th century.
After all this strolling, we are ready to sit and there are plenty of cafes and tearooms in Buxton. Later we will walk over for a close-up of The Devonshire Dome. This building has an interesting history and has been used as stables, a hospital and is now a University. Finally, we will climb the paths up The Slopes to the upper part of Buxton, where the town’s oldest buildings surround England’s highest market place and from there head back to the campsite.
Day Two – Goyt Valley and Errwood Reservoir [about 14kms]
After the streets of Buxton, day two is a contrasting and challenging hike over moorland. A map will be essential to find your way around these moors but you will be rewarded with the sounds of lapwings and curlews and buckets of fresh air.
From the A53 near the campsite, we picked up Bishop’s Lane and climbed the hillside until a path took us to the disused railway line. Views over the two reservoirs in Goyt Valley will open out before you.
Reaching a lane, we descend to the shores of Errwood Reservoir. From here we chose paths that climb through the trees to the ruins of Errwood Hall. We are walking through what was once the grand ornamental garden where fountains played and the Grimshawe family, who lived here, relaxed on the lawns. Demolished in 1934 after the last of the Grimeshawes died, Errwood Hall was originally a dressed-stone building with a tower above an impressive entrance and rooms packed with fine furniture and art works. In those days the hall enjoyed views over the valley but is now surrounded by trees and rhododendrons. For me, the ruins have always retained a sense of romance tinged with loss but on our last visit it seemed particularly woebegone. The site deserves a little more care and I was disappointed there isn’t even an interpretation board to show what used to be here. However, there is an app and more information here.
From the hall we headed uphill finding the small circular St Joseph’s shrine that huddles in a hollow with pine trees. Dedicated to Dolores, a Spanish companion to Jessie Grimeshawe in 1889, the shrine has an elaborate altar of Spanish tiles and there are often fresh flowers. As we descended the moorland back to the reservoir a grey cloud threatened rain and we followed a circling buzzard towards the trees and shelter but the storm never arrived.
Walking south along the valley beyond Errwood Reservoir we crossed the old packhorse bridge and picked up a path over the moorland and back to Buxton. More walks in the Goyt Valley and its history can be found here.
Day Three – Three Shires Head [Around 17kms]
If you only have time for one day of hiking around Buxton, make it this one! The walk begins on the Dane Valley Way and you soon leave the traffic behind as you cross Axe Edge Moor, an expanse of moorland that holds the headwaters of four rivers, the Manifold, Dane, Wye and Goyt. Despite the warm weather, it was just us on this path enjoying the gurgling streams and passing a few isolated farms and old mine workings.
At Three Shires Head, where Staffordshire, Derbyshire and Cheshire meet, we joined the throng. These falls are a popular picnic and wild swimming spot. Sitting by the waterfalls I slipped off my shoes and dipped my toes in the gaspingly-cold water of the River Dane. As I dried my tingling feet I watched the hardy woman swimming in Pannier’s Pool in admiration.
Climbing up the hillside to Flash, a sheltered lane alive with butterflies took us to Flash Bar Stores where we devoured two of their delicious homemade vegetable pies at an outdoor table. A popular halt for cyclists, we chatted to a young man who was fuelling up having cycled from the West Midlands and was surprised how hilly the Peak District was!
Exuberant skylarks sang as we crossed the fields, criss-crossed by stone walls, below Flash. Multitudes of signs heralded the Health and Safety Executives huge Science and Research Centre. We skirted the buildings on the public footpath and picked up a lane that took us back to the road below the campsite.
Day Four – Five Dales from Tideswell [13kms]
On a perfect spring day we drove the short distance to the car park in Tideswell Dale. This perfect Derbyshire walk took us along, in and out of five dales.
We began in Tideswell Dale where a winding stream lined with bright yellow celandine wound beside us and rock cress hung from the limestone cliffs. Ash trees grow here but many have been chopped down due to ash dieback, a destructive fungal disease.
Miller’s Dale, not surprisingly, is home to many disused mills along the River Wye, often now converted to housing. I was concentrating on looking along the river for kingfishers. I didn’t see a kingfisher but a birdwatching couple pointed out a peregrine they had spotted on the skyline above us.
At Cressbrook we sat by the millpond watching the climbers on the crags and a pair of tufted ducks. The ducks dived into the shallow water to feed, stirring up the silt into billowing muddy streaks so that we could watch their underwater progress. Cressbrook Dale is thickly wooded with pungent wild garlic and carpets of soft green moss covering the dry stone walls.
The landscape opened out as we reached the short Tansley Dale where we found cowslips just coming into flower among the grasses. We climbed up to the patchwork of walled fields above the dales where lambs gambolled in the sunshine and the shallow Litton Dale led us back to the ‘van.
Day Five – Five Wells & Deep Dale walk (13kms)
In more sunshine, we walked through the wood to Buxton to catch a bus towards Bakewell. We hopped off near the village of Taddington and walked back to Buxton.
Our first stop was Five Wells Chambered Cairn. Here the stones that remain of a circular chambered cairn perch on high ground above the source of five springs. Although many of the stones have been taken, the two back-to-back chambers can be recognised. Descending to the village of Chelmorton we passed Bank Pit Spring, inexplicably and bizarrely known locally as Illy Willy Water.
The path into the wooded Deep Dale was steep but the sheltered dale was perfect for a lunch stop. As we ate, three sheep nose-to-tail went purposefully by on a lower path. When minutes later a fourth sheep appeared we assumed she was lagging behind and helpfully pointed in the right direction. Instead she came over and nudged my arm with her nose demanding food. We were eating more delicious pastries from Flash Bar and so there was no chance we would share!
The scenic uneven path along Deep Dale, over moss-covered stones and between trees, took us below the cave known as Thirst House before climbing up to King Sterndale and returning into Buxton under the 13 arches of Dukes Drive viaduct. Back in Grin Low Woods, we found a thick carpet of wood anemone and on the way back to the campsite picked up part of Buxton’s Ring of Trees Walk, a circular route through surrounding woodland.
Lime Tree Holiday Park – We have stayed here a few times. It is in a peaceful position just a short walk from Buxton.
Beech Croft Farm – this family-run site is between Buxton and Bakewell and in quiet countryside. Walk Five is near here.
Longnor Wood Camping – This adult-only site is near the village of Longnor. There is good hiking from the campsite and some cosy country pubs in the vicinity.
A couple of nights in Glasgow has been on my wishlist for some years and a birthday celebration was the ideal time to enjoy 48-hours in this handsome Scottish city. Plans were hatched and the decision was made to leave the campervan at home. Leaving our almost-blue campervan behind is hard and feels disloyal but one of the reasons for down-sizing our ‘van was a hankering to try other sorts of holidays again. So we patted it’s bonnet, gently explained and planned a train and hotel-based trip. It would be interesting to see how it compared to life on the road.
Train & Hotel
The train is an easy way for us to get to Glasgow as Lancaster is on the main West Coast Line. We had pre-booked cheap seats and while we ate our picnic lunch and read our novels we sped over the border and we pulled into the stunning Glasgow Central Station on time.
We had chosen a hotel a hop and a skip from Glasgow Central. Grasshoppers Hotel (since unfortunately closed) has a strange name but excellent reviews and we booked two nights online. The hotel is on the top floor of one of the buildings around Glasgow Central and climbing the stairs to the hotel [there is a lift] we passed drab Scotrail offices and seriously started to doubt our decision. We needn’t have worried, as soon as you reach the hotel floor you are in hushed luxury. Our high-ceiling room was stylish, warm and not a whisper of train engines reached us. The only quirk was the odd sliding door into the bathroom.
As well as tea and coffee making in your room, this hotel has a special feature. The welcoming lounge overlooks the vast glass roof of the railway station. Here you can browse books, make drinks and pick up a slice of cake, with vegan options always available or a bowl of ice-cream. When we asked if these were homemade, we were told the night staff make these delicious cakes in the wee hours.
Finding Free Things to do in Glasgow
It was a sunny afternoon as we strode out across the city to Glasgow Necropolis. This large Victorian garden cemetery sits on a hill near Glasgow Cathedral and on the edge of the city centre. The tombs and grave monuments compete for attention with their intricate carvings and statues and are evidence of the flourishing economy of 19th century Glasgow.
Later in the evening we strolled around the city and found a bar for drinks before retiring to our hotel room with a money-saving picnic.
The next morning, fuelled by a good hotel breakfast, we caught a train to Pollokshaws West. There are regular trains for this 30 minutes journey and we were soon walking through Pollok Country Park, enjoying the frosty morning air. We followed The White Cart Water through this former estate to the walled and woodland gardens around Pollok House before swinging around to The Burrell Collection. Some of the 9,000 objects that make up The Burrell Collection are displayed in an airy and modern museum in Pollok Country Park that is free to enter. The collection has something for everyone and includes Chinese art, medieval stained glass and tapestries. We concentrated on some of the paintings by French artists including Manet, Cezanne and Degas and my favourite without doubt, for it’s colour and life, was Degas’ The Red Ballet Skirts. The Thinker by Auguste Rodin was also a treat to have the chance to see.
Back in the city centre we walked by the River Clyde to Glasgow Green, a large urban park. We were last here on a chilly and wet day in 2021 listening to the speakers at the end of the march during COP26. This time we had chance to wander and visit The People’s Palace, the city’s museum of popular history, where we learnt about living in Glasgow tenements and taking your laundry to the communal steamies. And all for free!
Not Everything was Free
One of the reasons for coming to Glasgow was The Purple Cat Cafe and it was here we headed for tea and fun with cats. While we ate cakes, cats of all colours and ages raced across bridges above our heads, hurtled down walkways, slept in fluffy baskets, played with toys and rubbed around our legs. I laughed blissfully.
That evening we ate at Mono Cafe Bar just off Argyle Street, another wonderful place that gave an unpromising first impression. We had sauntered by this cafe bar during the daytime, it wasn’t open and frankly it looked gloomy and univiting. But, in the same way that the floor of the hotel surprised us, at night the lights were lit, the venue came alive and we entered a warm and welcoming space that served delicious, hearty and creative vegan food. I cannot recommend this place enough and it was the perfect birthday treat.
Our last morning in Glasgow took us to The Tenement House, a National Trust property with an astonishing story. This middle-class tenement takes you back to the first half of the 20th century when Miss Agnes Toward, a shorthand typist, lived here with her mother and later alone. As an independent woman, she valued her possessions and never de-cluttered. When she died she left a unique personal archive in a flat that had been empty for ten years while she was in hospital. The flat is a treasure trove of old cards, china dogs, mantle clocks and antique wallpaper. Agnes Toward’s story has occupied my mind since and I think of her often. If you get the chance, do visit.
Comparing Hotel & Campervan
As we sat on the train returning south I pondered on how this trip had compared to one in a campervan. Although it is possible to visit cities with a campervan and we have done this many times from York to Pisa, for a couple of days exploration a city centre hotel is a hard act to beat. We could crash in our room for a couple of hours between sightseeing, we didn’t have to carry lots of kit around and the sights were mostly on our doorstep. Being in the hotel meant we enjoyed some of Glasgow’s nightlife too. Much as I love our campervan, for this sort of short break the hotel wins for convenience.
Travelling to and from Glasgow by train was effortless and relaxing and cost the two of us £38 return [with a railcard], booked about a month in advance. Driving the 300+ miles would have cost around £50 just for diesel.
Of course, at £90/night for bed and breakfast it was more expensive than any campsite we’ve stayed on. We did save money by minimising our eating out and finding free things to do. In 2024, a night at the Caravan and Motorhome Club Strathclyde Country Park Club Campsite would be around £30/night at the same time of year [but our hotel was much quieter than this surrounded-by-motorways campsite]. Even if you add the cost of public transport in and out of the city and try and cost the impossible-to-price convenience, the hotel can’t be described as a budget option … but it was my birthday!
After exploring the southern shores of the Solway, driving into Scotland our first stop was the Old Blacksmith’s Shop in Gretna Green. Having traditionally been a haven for young people keen to marry, today it has handed itself completely over to romance and retail. The courtship maze, the wall of love padlocks and a sculpture called The Big Dance with two hands clasped together to form an arch all thawed my heart on a wintery morning!Â
We had been blessed with fine weather on the English part of this trip but now rain hammered on the roof of our campervan as we pulled into the nearby Devil’s Porridge Museum. This bizarrely-named museum tells the story of the huge Gretna Green site that produced cordite during World War One. Thousands worked here in hazardous conditions and we heard their stories while the rain pounded noisily on the museum roof. In the local history areas I was fascinated to read about the State Management Scheme for brewing and pubs which began in wartime but continued into the 1970s. This massive experiment aimed to change the drinking culture and reduce drunkenness. State-owned pubs sold weak beer along with food, forbade the buying of rounds and encouraged games such as dominoes and darts.
The wet and windy weather followed us along the northern Solway coast to The Wildfowl and Wetland Trust’s Caerlaverock reserve. One of the many things I like about having a ‘van is that you can see over hedges and walls and I pointed out groups of geese feeding in the fields as Anthony drove. We were just in time for Caerlaverock’s daily swan feeding and from the hide watched the multitude of swans boisterously squabbling over shovelfuls of food.
For the next couple of nights we had an enviable pitch at Queensberry Bay Leisure Park, with an unobstructed view over the Solway Firth and acres of sky. Watching the birds feeding on the mud, fishing boats leaving Annan harbour and the changing light of sunrises and sunsets could all be done from our snug campervan while the rain pattered on our tin roof. When we needed to stretch our legs, the campsite bar had the same spectacular view that was perfect for a lazy morning coffee with yesterday’s papers and evening beers.
When the rain eased we walked along quiet lanes finding small moments of joy when we disturbed hares in a field, picked out lapwing calls and found more cheerful clumps of flowering snowdrops. On Powfoot Beach the remains of wooden piers were draped in shimmering seaweed and an old circular bathing pool that was part of an early 20th century plan to develop this quiet stretch of coast into a holiday resort intrigued us.
Even in winter some good weather is never too far away and we wandered around the ruins and pretty village at Sweetheart Abbey in sunshine the next day. The impressive lighthouse at Southerness was an idyllic beach combing and rockpooling spot and at Sandyhills Bay we kicked along the soft sand with views across the Solway. This Dumfries coast is packed with pretty coves and bays, craggy cliffs and charming villages.
On a sheltered inlet with a picturesque outlook, Kippford is delightful. It was low tide and we could crunch our way along the shell-strewn tidal causeway to Rough Island that sits in a sheltered estuary off the Solway Firth. A narrow path climbed from the causeway through bushes to the grassy high point of the island and rewarded us with spectacular views across the water to clusters of white cottages on tree-covered hillsides.
In the evening we were treated to a stunning sunset from the campsite above Kirkcudbright while cozily drinking tea in our ‘van. Less enjoyable were the strong winds that rocked the ‘van alarmingly in the small hours and disturbed my sleep!
Our campervan trip under the big skies of the Solway Firth had delivered light of every shade from blue skies to gun-metal grey stormy clouds and deep-red sunsets. As we drove home I suggested to Anthony that campervan trips should be available on the NHS because there was no doubt I now felt refreshed, upbeat and ready to ride out the remaining winter days.
The pictures below show Rough Island, the swans at Caerlaverock and a Dumfries beach.
Back on the road again 