On finding joy

This weekend I had planned to share with you a journey from mountain and desert to modern stove and cooker. A tradition that dates back to One Thousand and One Nights and to the peak of the Islamic Golden Age. A joyous experience of cooking (and eating) using ancient methods passed down generations.

If you don’t mind, I’m going to go slightly off topic this week.

The US election results of the past week affect us all around the world, they don’t just concern the American people. Its outcome will shape foreign policy across the globe, not just in America. Where the US leads, many countries will follow, whether you agree that’s how it should be or not.

For that reason, I wanted to share some feelings of hope, trepidation, idealism and ultimately joy. Not just in the US, but in the UK too. You might wonder why I would feel joy when there remains such open and raw division in politics and so much work to do. Read on.

Good news.

A man who has faced great personal and political losses. Who in his 8th decade has led a moderate-progressive coalition charge to bring political leadership back from the brink. Twice the failed presidential candidate and now the President-Elect.

A woman who grew up the daughter of immigrants, who had to prove herself ten times over to gain the same kind of respect often afforded easily to others in her field. Rightly lauded as the first woman, the first black woman, the first South Asian woman to be voted in as Vice President. She is clear that she doesn’t intend to be the last.

Yesterday’s projection that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris will lead America for the next four years was for me and so many around the world a huge moment.

A weight has been lifted, so the cliché goes. Whatever we have to deal with from now on, it’s just nice that maybe it doesn’t have to centre around one self-centred human being so much.

Challenge.

I say this recognising that one historic election doesn’t change the dark times we’ll all face in the weeks, months and years ahead, as Coronavirus cases continue to spiral way out of control, as do the destructive effects of climate change. Amazon.com is making its highest profits in history, while the Amazon Rainforest suffers its harshest challenges.

With a second lockdown here in the UK, travelling the world feels as distant a prospect as at the height of lockdown back in April. From our self-employed neighbours next door to the independent shop owners on our high streets, and from the bartenders and waitresses who won’t be taking our orders on holiday to the tour guides who might have shown us their beautiful corner of the world time zones away. They are fighting to keep afloat.

Division.

Right now, those of us who want the Democrats in America to succeed long term have to face the fact that the second-most-voted-for presidential candidate in history is Mr Donald J Trump.

Just under half of America wanted him back for a second term and the all-important Senate is likely to remain Republican for at least the next two years (though all eyes will be on Georgia’s senate race rematches from now until January).

So, while Biden and Harris have promised that their leadership will be for all Americans, it remains to be seen if they can bring the country closer together. It’s not just up to them though. Both halves of this divided country have got to agree that there is more value in finding common ground than there is in relishing being polar opposite of one another.

Tribes.

Late in 2019 I went to an LSE event with Labour MP for Tottenham David Lammy, promoting his new book Tribes: How Our Need to Belong Can Make or Break Society.

His remarks made such an impression on me, particularly his belief that if we can bring about more cohesion within communities. His suggestion is for a compulsory ‘national civic service’ and a citizens’ assembly as a way to reduce the ‘them and us’ mentality, and improve society together. As he writes of Brexit Britain:

‘Diversity, immigration and technological progress can be hugely positive, but when they break down shared ways of life and social cohesion, it is understandable that people get defensive.’

He speaks firmly too about the extent to which social media has globalised and entrenched tribal identities, with detrimental effect.

My thoughts? There are no easy answers to the question of how to cool the cancel culture that holds court online, or the extremism of the alt-right. The lid is off. But enforcing the dismantling of Facebook’s dangerous adverts algorithm and implementing tougher guidelines on dealing with hate speech (doing so with full transparency) is a place to start.

But what about how we act as individuals?

Respect.

If you would normally resolve to yourself that ‘they behave worse than us’, perhaps it’s time to question why you have that perception. Who are ‘they’ really? And how often do any of us really take the trouble, or have the opportunity, to speak to people in real life outside of our friendship and family groups? Our perceived social groups?

I include myself in the equation when I say that we would find more that brings us together than separates us, and have more respect for each other if we shouted less on Twitter and spoke more in person. Leaning less on those whose views we already share and instead seeking out the opinions and anxieties of people we shy from or discredit.

Respect has to work both ways of course.

And we’ve got to be prepared to compromise and respect differences of opinion, or at least do more to understand rather than simply dismiss.

And practically, how to meet more people in our communities? Volunteering in the community is a brilliant place to start, even during a pandemic. I for one am looking at volunteering opportunities in my local area on the website doit.life/ours.

Why the joy?

‘When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy’ – Rumi

There was so much at stake in the US election and I followed it about as avidly as any non-American, non-politics student feasibly could. I resolved when I woke up the day after the last election not to allow myself to simply be a bystander but to educate myself more about the US election system and be as involved in spreading the word and batting down misinformation as I could be. I’ve lived and breathed the entire election cycle.

And it has been tiring.

Not just the past four million years / four years as a whole. The fear last Tuesday night, the drawn out results, the close calls, the increasingly batshit ravings of a defeated one term president who can’t countenance defeat and is probably at his most dangerous now and into January. (I’m afraid he is an exception to my rule of respect).

And yet I feel joy.

*Joy that so many wonderful campaigners and advocates and volunteers’ hard work has paid off. They were truly the difference between win and lose. *Joy and relief that election day itself went ahead relatively calmly, despite threats of vigilantism. *Joy that a state like Georgia, long a victim of voter suppression, might flip Democrat, something many dared to hope would happen. *Joy for Clayton County. Formerly represented in Congress by the late, great civil rights campaigner and politician John Lewis (a staunch critic of Trump), its votes are what pushed Biden slightly ahead of Trump in Georgia on Friday morning. *Joy in knowing that America will return to the Paris Climate Agreement, that science and reason will regain a foothold with the announcement of Biden’s Coronavirus task force (and by the way have you seen today’s excellent vaccine news?) *Joy for the end of the Muslim travel ban and a return to a welcoming immigration policy. *Joy that the next president wants to solve racial inequality, not fuel it.

Face it.

We knew these were Biden’s positions, but now he has the mandate to act on them, especially if his final electoral college tally reaches upwards of 300. We know the Biden Harris administration faces enormous challenges and pushback from Republicans, and the Supreme Court could at any point peel back the strides made towards universal healthcare and the right to choose an abortion. No illusions.

As for the outgoing president? He wants us to feel fear and discord at how close he came to re-election. It’s how he’s thrived these past years. We have to face it down with optimism and by rolling up our sleeves for the toughest challenges which are yet to come.

‘You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, “I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.” – Eleanor Roosevelt

_____
P.s. if you’re wondering at my choice of picture above, it was partly the catalyst for writing this piece. I deliberately waited until the election had been called to unwrap a painting I bought in September by up and coming artist Laura Gee. Its title? The Joy of Life.

Times like these: East Germany

It’s time for part two of my time travel series. I haven’t discovered how to travel back in time, but I did chat to my mum about a trip to East Germany we made as a family in June 1991 – during a very important time in German history.

It was eight months after the German reunification of October 1990 and 19 months after the fall of the Berlin Wall. One of the reporters who covered the seismic events in Germany was the BBC’s John Simpson:

The fall of the Berlin Wall changed the world. It brought an end to Communist regimes right across Europe, and finished Russia as a superpower.

We wanted to see the region before it changed rapidly, as it deserved to do.

None of us had ever set foot in East Germany or East Berlin. Later, as a teenager I felt a bit embarrassed that we spent so much time in Europe when other families were flying round the world. With hindsight though it was quite exciting to seek out countries that were only just opening up after the breakdown of the Soviet Union and communist control. The beach could wait.

Read on for a Q&A with my mum (aka my ‘Mutti’) about what she remembers.

Me: You’ve always loved Germany as a destination. When did you last go before 1991?

My mum in Germany in 1981

Mutti: I think it must have been 1981, when I went with my friend Marion. It was a ten day trip to Burg Eltz (south of Koblenz on the Moselle River), Vogelsburg and Rothenburg, both about as close as you could get to East Germany at the time.

Why did you want to go to East Germany?

My God, Help Me to Survive This Deadly Love, graffiti painting on the eastern side of the Berlin Wall by Dmitri Vrubel. Photograph by Mar Cerdeira on Unsplash

The events on television inspired us to go for a holiday beyond the old iron curtain before it all changed. To experience it for ourselves, with your uncle Ray and you kids with us. Roof rack on, and off we went!

It seemed like the time to visit. I felt a bit like a pioneer somehow. We were going into a part of Europe that had been so closed off. Everyone had read a lot about what life was like there, and here was our chance to actually be there. We would have gone in 1990 if we could have, but your brother Stephen was soon to be born and so we waited.

Where did we stay and how did we get there?

Waiting for the Stena Line ferry to take us to mainland Europe.

Our destination was a village called Waldidylle, south of Dresden. It’s very close to the border with what was then Czechoslovakia (now Czechia).

We took a Stena Sealink ferry from the port of Harwich in Essex, over to Hook van Holland – literally the ‘hook of Holland’ – that juts out west of The Hague and Rotterdam.

We drove through the Netherlands and into Germany, stopping overnight somewhere en route – I can’t remember where. With small children in tow, we didn’t want to do a whole day’s drive to Waldidylle in one go.

So we travelled over two days, but we missed the owners?

Yes, we got to Waldidylle quite late. We hadn’t realised how remote it was. You navigate by car all the way from the UK to your destination, but it’s usually the last bit of the journey where you get stuck. We stopped at a pub to ask for directions and a kind stranger showed us into the village, we followed his car.

We got to the chalet and there was a note on the door from the owners saying that they had gone back to their house in Dresden because it had been getting quite late.

Did they not leave a key for us to get in?!

No! I suppose if it was their holiday home, they didn’t necessarily know the neighbours that well.

You’d think that in a sleepy rural village they’d trust the neighbours to have the keys. Maybe I’m reading into it too much, but maybe it took a while to trust neighbours again. The infamous Stasi secret police were known for extreme surveillance techniques and for turning neighbours into spies against each other. Keeping themselves to themselves was probably quite ingrained.

Anyway, we didn’t have to sleep in the car at least?

It was quite dark, so it must have been rather late seeing as we were there in June. And there were so many trees making everything darker still. We looked around for the nearest neighbours. There was a gap between our chalet and a house nearby. Like most of the properties around, it had a sloping roof for the snow in winter, and it was bigger than the chalet.

We headed over and knocked on the door to ask the family living there if they knew of a bed and breakfast. They instead offered us their house for the night.

They were maybe in their late 40s or early 50s and they had a daughter in her teens who was at a disco that evening. Perhaps they had an older daughter who had moved out already. And maybe a grandfather too, but I can’t remember much more about them.

In order to squeeze us all in, they arranged for their daughter to stay with a friend. It’s funny the things you remember – I remember that detail, but I can’t picture the couple’s faces. We were so tired and I had you two to look after.

A quick sorting of the rooms and we had beds for the night! We all slept very soundly.

Did you speak to them much?

German text which translates as hello, how are you?

Most of the conversation was in German, it certainly helped that I can speak a bit.

I remember chatting to our hosts in German over the breakfast table in the morning. They told us that we were the first British people they had met since the Berlin Wall had fallen. That left a real impression. They mentioned the war. I remember Dresden came up in conversation, as did Coventry (both cities were badly bombed in the Second World War).

The hosts were just so nice. We offered them money for the stay, though they wouldn’t accept more than a few pounds.

They and everyone else were so helpful to us and that has really stayed with me.

After breakfast we had to get the keys presumably?

We drove 40km over to Dresden to pick them up and spent the day discovering the city. The note on the chalet door had the address of the owners we’d missed, with instructions for how to find them. No mobile phones back then!

And we spent the rest of the trip in that chalet. I can’t really remember what it looked like (update: now I know, because we found a photo!)

Update: early 2021 we found a box of photos under my mum’s bed with, bingo, a picture of the chalet we stayed a few days in. Idyllic!
A picture featuring two photos from 1991, one of the forest of Waldidylle and the other of me standing on the Germany Czechoslovakia border
Misty trees around our chalet in Waldidylle – and me standing near the border with then Czechoslovakia
Our trusty SEAT car in the woods of Waldidylle
Our trusty SEAT and roof rack, parked by our chalet, just in view

It was a classic chalet in the woods, I knew I must have taken a photo! Nice to also see our trusty old SEAT car complete with buggy and travel cot on the roof. Do you remember the stuffed animal heads on the walls inside the chalet?

Yes, now you mention it! I have a vivid impression of a lot of wooden furniture and some large taxidermy on the walls.

They scared you a bit I think. We covered them with sheets and blankets.

Hopefully we remembered to remove the sheets…

Thinking back to the trip overall, and others in the 1990s, what struck you about East Germany compared to West Germany?

German autobahn at night
Autobahn at night by Paul Frenzel on Unsplash

Despite our preconceptions, Waldidylle itself and other rural parts of East Germany didn’t strike us as much different from West Germany.

The motorway was in quite a bad state however, even around the bigger centres of Chemnitz and Leipzig. Infrastructure was noticeably in a poorer state than the West half of the country. On later trips we could tell the disconnect between East and West German roads, especially in the Harz Mountains. You couldn’t just go east to west or vice versa, you had to take detours to get from one set of roads to another.

What the regions were known for producing was different too. East Germany and East Germans had long had to rely on more traditional crafts to earn a living, making more wooden toys for example, in contrast to the grander industry of West Germany.

We visited Seiffen, only 15km from the Czech border and across from Waldidylle. They turned to wooden toy manufacturing hundreds of years earlier when the iron mining industry collapsed. We went on a day trip and of course bought you some wooden toys.

I remember that day – it was Stephen’s first birthday. He had a jelly birthday ‘cake’ and chose a wooden toy truck, while I opted for a snazzy wooden tea set. We still have them in the house.

When the waitress realised we were celebrating a birthday, she brought out a sparkler, that was nice of her.

And here’s the famous truck. Stephen keeps it pride of place among a very select number of souvenirs he’s collected over the years. By contrast you need a warehouse for all mine.

My brother's wooden toy truck
‘Spielzeugland’ = toy land
Underside of the wooden toy truck
Note the change of stamp

Before reunification, East Germany was known as the DDR (Deutsche Demokratische Republik) or GDR in English. You can actually see on the bottom of the wooden truck that it was first stamped with GDR, before later being stamped over with MADE IN GERMANY. Interesting!

Another difference was that things did cost a lot less in the east of course; we felt the money on our holiday lasting longer. That remained the way for many years.

I remember vividly our trip in 1998 to the Harz Mountains and the Czech Republic (the peaceful dissolution from Slovakia happened in 1993). As children we couldn’t believe our ears and eyes that ice lollies were about the equivalent of 7p or, if we wanted a fancy lolly, 13p. Heaven.

We did feel a bit of a novelty sometimes on our travels in the 1990s, a British family with young children expressly choosing to enter these formerly occupied countries when it wasn’t particularly fashionable.

Buildings in Dresden
The Zwinger Palace in Dresden
The Baroque Zwinger Palace, rebuilt after the Second War War

We darted around quite a bit on our trip didn’t we – we went to nearby Meissen (famous for its porcelain) as well as Berlin and Colditz. We also crossed the East German border with then Czechoslovakia, venturing to Prague. And we spent some time in Dresden (pictured). It was infamously bombed in the very late stages of the Second World War, gutting most buildings. The photos show some of the famous buildings rebuilt after the war.

Me in Dresden
The centre of Dresden

Yes, the city left an impression on all of us.

Even Stephen, who was 11 months old at the time, thinks he remembers seeing some remaining bomb damage.

It’s possible.

Colditz

One of my strongest memories is us walking round Colditz (between Leipzig and Dresden). It was used during the Second World War to house Allied Prisoners of War (POWs), many of whom were involved in increasingly daring escape attempts as the war wore on.

I could swear I was older than 3-4 years old, I remember it as if I was about 10. I remember peering through windows as looked around, imagining some of the POWs still being inside, in their uniforms and sporting big moustaches.

Dresden, Seiffen and Colditz aside, what else do you remember from the trip?

Brandenburg Gate, still undergoing refurbishments when we visited in 1991
Brandenburg Gate, still undergoing refurbishments when we visited in 1991
Us in front of the Brandenburg Gate

I remember when we visited Berlin that the Brandenburg Gate was still undergoing refurbishment. The East German authorities removed the quadriga that sits on top as part of the renovations, after the wall had fallen. When we were there, it hadn’t yet gone back on.

Children dancing in Prague

The beautiful clothes of the children dancing in Hradčany, the castle district surrounding Prague Castle.

The Old Town Square in Prague

And the equally beautiful Old Town Square in Prague. Czechoslovakia when we visited had itself only just returned to democracy during the Velvet Revolution of 1989. Less than 1 1/2 years after our trip the country was officially dissolved and became the Czech Republic (now Czechia) and Slovakia.

Of course, we couldn’t resist visiting both new countries soon after!

Prague is an example of a city I know I’ve seen lots of, but at a very young age. Must go back one day…

A watchtower at the East German border

And here I am with dad, surveying a scene of calm over East Germany.

What a time to travel!

Times like these: Hong Kong in a hurry

Until last night, I couldn’t remember when the clocks go back and when they go forward. Well, now I know: spring forward, fall back.

If you’re in the UK, I hope you got a lie in on Sunday morning with the clocks going back, or that you did something nice with your extra hour. I wrote this post with mine!

The clocks got me thinking about past trips where time played a big role in some way.

I’ve already written about the time I got lost in the Amazon Rainforest a few years back. Hours spent walking off the right path, and then a nervous few hours spent getting back on the right path. Have a read here.

And then my brother reminded me of a trip to Rome when we were teenagers. We were too late to get into the Sistine Chapel, according to all our watches. Dispirited, we thought we would at least go and ask about opening hours the next day. As we turned a corner, we could see queues still formed outside, and then it dawned on us that we had completely forgotten about the clocks going back. We had spent the whole day one hour ahead. So we joined the queue and just made it inside.

Read on for part one of my two-part time travel series.

A (short) time well spent

When it comes to how to spend time off, one thing my friends will tell you about me is that I love to be busy. I feel guilty spending a sunny day indoors and if I’m honest with myself, although I do love to relax and I have been known to sit down on holiday, nothing excites me more about holiday planning than chalking up my itinerary.

On my way to Japan on holiday in 2018 I had planned, in one of my mad schemes, to stop off in Hong Kong en route. Not stay over, just stop off. And so it was, after 13 hours of flying and not much sleep, I embarked on a 15 hour day trip around Hong Kong before catching a 2am flight to Tokyo.

Given everything that has happened recently in this remarkable city, I count myself lucky to have spent even a short time there.

Here is a timeline of my itinerary from that day. Too much? Not enough?

08.00 / ARRIVAL

Touchdown in Hong Kong on my SAS flight from Stockholm

Landed in Hong Kong Airport on a SAS flight from Stockholm. A bit of timewasting at left luggage and freshening up. Picked up an Octopus transport card and caught the Airport Express into the city. Even this early, the humidity was toppling.

10.18 / CHURCHGOING

St John's Cathedral from the outside
The interior of St John's Cathedral

I had a quick peek inside St John’s Cathedral before travelling up to Victoria Peak. The cathedral dates to 1847 which makes it one of the oldest buildings in the city. A service had just ended and I was invited to join them for tea and biscuits, though I sadly had to press on.

10.49 / WHERE THE VIEWS ARE

Awaiting the next tram to Victoria Peak
A view from Victoria Peak

It was time to queue up and visit Victoria Peak via the hillside tram (though really it’s like a funicular). It was as busy and commercialised on top as you would expect of one of the city’s biggest tourist attractions, but I enjoyed it still.

12.35 / CELEB SPOTTING

Stephen the Lion at HSBC Headquarters

As it was a Sunday, the famous HSBC headquarters weren’t open but that didn’t matter – I had really come to meet an inhabitant who lives there 24/7, Stephen the Lion. Stephen and Stitt the lions have guarded the headquarters since 1935. Interestingly, they have only been off public display three times since then, one of those times being this year, when they were damaged during anti-government protests. They have only just gone back on display.

13.12 / BREAKFAST AT LUNCH

Dim sum for lunch at the traditional Luk Yu Teahouse

Believe it or not, dim sum is more traditionally eaten at breakfast than dinner. I originally planned to have breakfast at the traditional Luk Yu Teahouse, but due to delays leaving the airport (and general heat-related slowness) I arrived for lunch instead.

It’s one of the oldest tea houses in Hong Kong, open since 1933. I accepted the huge pot of Jasmine tea on arrival, but immediately pleaded for a big glass of water too. I still don’t quite understand the concept of tea cooling you down on a hot day… but it didn’t stop me happily ordering a trio of dim sum classics – siu mai (top), char siu buns (middle) and har gow (right).

14.00 / ESCALATION

The 800m long Central Mid Escalator

I walked A LOT over 15 hours, but I couldn’t miss a ride on the Central Mid escalator. It may not look like much but it is (drumroll) the longest outdoor covered escalator system in the world, covering a distance of 800m and an elevation of 135m.

14.22 / WHAT A TART

Inside the Tai Cheung Bakery
Ready to eat my egg custard tart

In the name of food, I got off the escalator early to visit the famous Tai Cheong bakery for an egg custard tart. They’re loved by many Hong Kongers and the last Governor of Hong Kong, Chris Patten, is a big fan. (Ssh, I do prefer Portuguese pastel de nata tarts, but Hong Kong’s egg tarts come a proud second).

14.37 / YOU HAVE TO WANDER

Next door to the Sheung Wan Market
Sheung Wan district
Street art
Street art
Brooklyn Bar and Grill
Brooklyn Bar and Grill
A second hand shop
A second hand shop
A mosaic showing one of Hong Kong's famous 'junk' sailing ships
A mosaic showing one of Hong Kong’s famous ‘junk’ sailing ships
Approaching Man Mo Temple
Approaching Man Mo Temple
Fabric shopping in the Sheung Wan Market

I loved the streets around the Mid-Levels and Sheung Wan areas of Hong Kong. Bars and street art collide with temples and indoor markets.

15.31 / TIME FOR A TEMPLE

Incense inside the Man Mo Temple
Lanterns inside the Man Mo Temple
Incense and lanterns at the Man Mo Temple

Man Mo Temple. My first temple in Asia. Heady in the humidity. Transfixing.

16.19 / THE PAST IS A CEREMONY

A 1st July dance event

I was in Hong Kong on 1st July, which was the day Britain gave Hong Kong up to China in 1997. I had expected that there would be some events, but I also knew that many Hong Kongers wouldn’t necessarily see this day as a cause for celebration… quite a few people were watching this dance ceremony, but I would describe the reception as fairly muted.

17.01 / A WEE TRAM

Inside one of Hong Kong's trams

Although I can’t say with much certainty that it was necessarily worth waiting 30 minutes for, I took a little trip on one of Hong Kong’s trams. The wait time was perhaps indicative of the decline of this form of public transport. Or maybe trams don’t operate much on a Sunday!

17.27 / STAR TURN

Approaching my Star Ferry in Victoria Harbour

The Star Ferry Company was founded in 1888, originally named the Kowloon Ferry Company. And it was to Kowloon I was headed, from Victoria Harbour.

18.33 / PARKING

Whitfield Barracks at Kowloon Park

For a lot of people, Kowloon is most closely associated with its Walled City, a densely populated city within a city that by 1990 housed over 50,000 people in crowded, unsafe conditions. Though it was demolished in 1993-94, the site of the walled city dates back to the Song Dynasty (960-1279) when an outpost was created to oversee the salt trade. In its place, sprawling Kowloon Walled City Park.

Time starved as I was, however, I was content to visit the much closer in Kowloon Park. Pictured, one of the buildings that was formerly part of the Whitfield Barracks that were built for the British Indian garrisons in the late 19th Century.

19.08 / IN TIME FOR SUNSET

A Star Ferry in Victoria Harbour
The water around Kowloon and Victoria Harbour
Sunset over Hong Kong

Back onboard a Star Ferry, the skies looked moody as we retraced the route to Victoria Harbour. I didn’t think the sun would emerge, but it did!

19.19 / BIRDSONG

Walking along Victoria Harbour

The view back over to Kowloon, on my way to dinner. I remember being serenaded by trees full of birds, as I walked along the harbour. I didn’t’t spot them, but I could hear their competing songs.

19.47 / GIVE ME ALL THE DIM SUM

Dim sum at Michelin-starred Tim Ho Wnan

It was time again for dim sum. Specifically, Tim Ho Wan in the IFC Mall for Michelin-starred banquet. The place was heaving but I didn’t have to wait long as I was on my own.

I’m confident with chopsticks but it was still daunting, sat round a shared table next to eight strangers, with plates of slippery dim sum arriving out of the kitchen, from meat-stuffed aubergine to beef balls with bean curd. But as soon as I noticed that everyone was eating just as messily as me, I eased up and enjoyed myself.

20.40 / BACK ON THE WATER

Victoria Harbour at night
Victoria Harbour at night

Some might deem two journeys on the Star Ferry time enough time already on the water. Not me. And I knew just the place for an aperitif.

21.08 / ALL THAT GLITTERS

The exterior of the Peninsula Hotel in Kowloon
The outside of the Peninsula Hotel earlier in the day
Cocktail and snacks in one of the Peninsula's bars

I blame Michael Palin for my expensive tastes.

In his first ever travel programme, Around The World in 80 Days, he stayed at the Peninsula Hotel in Kowloon in 1988. Offered Champagne during a complimentary car ride over to the hotel (at 9am in the morning), he was shown to his room, complete with a well-stocked bar. It all looked so grand and unobtainable. As Palin reflected:

Inside, one enters a palace. A rich, glittering reminder that whatever excess the rest of the world can offer, Hong Kong will cap it.

And thus I couldn’t resist a glimmering visit to one of the hotel’s cocktail bars open to non-residents. Rather quiet (it was a Sunday after all), but I had plenty of time before my flight to relax. Time enough as I sipped my cocktail to contemplate whether I had any space for snacks. (And yes, reader, I can report that I took the little Peninsula olive stick home with me).

23.33 / TIME TO SAY FAREWELL

Stephen the Lion at night

Before I left for the airport, I went in search of cash. On a route that conveniently took me back past Stephen the Lion, for a final goodbye.

I would be returning to Hong Kong for an even shorter time on my way back from Japan, but that’s another story for another day.

———

NEXT WEEK: a family holiday to a country at a momentous time in its history.

Slow ways over highways

I arrived back in England last week following more than five weeks adventuring in Scotland, and I’m slowly getting back to the indoors groove again. And on the theme of going slow…

In the past week you may have read in the news about a project called Slow Ways. It was started by self-described guerilla geographer and creative explorer Daniel Raven-Ellison, who wants to (re)connect walking footpaths and trails between villages, towns and cities across the entirety of the United Kingdom.

I signed up recently to help test a few slow ways around Somerset and Dorset, and you can sign up too if you’re interested.

I get that there are lots of benefits to using a car. I’ve spent the past six weeks finding ways to get around without one, sometimes wishing I could drive already!

But I also know how enriching the experience of walking is. Even as cars sail right on past you…

Walking is great

Footprints in the sand
  1. You see and appreciate so much more when you are on foot

If it takes you 3 hours to walk on a footpath to a destination that takes 15 minutes by car on a road, you’re going to see 2 hours 45 minutes more of the world around you, and that’s the beauty of anything slow. You’re going slow enough to really see where you are.

  1. There’s a walk (and a walking speed) for every mood

Coasts, fields, woods, beaches, town perimeters, parks, hills and mountains. Footpaths just off roads and paths that are roads; trails that are long and straight, twisty and labyrinthine, short and steep. Taken at brisk, measured, glacial, speedy, heart-pounding, lazy, hurtling speeds.

Even just writing those words I’m conjuring up some of the walks of the past year in my mind, all so different from one another. What every good walk has in common though is that it is just what you wanted at that moment; you find a new corner of your neighbourhood, you managed to work through a problem on your mind or you whiled away a blue sky afternoon somewhere unexpected. Or maybe you discover that you only want to walk there once in your life!

  1. You can stop whenever you want (and usually not cause a pile up)

Of course you can pull over in your car to marvel at a landscape, a view, outside the car windows. Road trips aren’t just about the road. But you’re unlikely to stop as many times as you are free to stop and observe while walking or hiking.

  1. You are more likely to have a walking trail to yourself than a road

And when you do, it’s marvellous! No slowing down to let a hill runner squelch by, no speeding up to overtake a band of walkers to retake the horizon for yourself. Just wandering and wondering, with all of the panorama to yourself.

  1. Walking is healthier than most of us think

I get why running is so popular, but it’s not for me. If I want to exercise and I can’t get to a tennis court or a gym, I’ll go for a fast walk.

Walking doesn’t get lots of kudos for its health benefits but numerous studies show that walking (quickly or otherwise) for 30 minutes a day has all sorts of positive effects, including reducing the risk of heart disease, diabetes and high cholesterol as well as boosting your immune system. This recent article from Women’s Health lists more benefits besides.

  1. Rarely is a walk just a walk

Spring is blending into summer as you cross the unmistakable aroma of wild garlic in woodland. Scan upwards in June, on the look out for fronds of elderflower, pale and lemony in colour. August appears and the blackberries are ripening, the apples on trees calling to be scrumped.

A feather just off the path from a collared dove long flown. A deer through a doorway in the trees, certain she’s alone. Dew-baubled leaves and spiderwebs greasy with last night’s mists.

Leave the car behind

  1. The Culloden Battlefield Trail

By the main road to Culloden Battlefield, there is a 4.5km trail that takes in the woodland around the Culloden battlefield site that’s owned by National Trust for Scotland.

Most visitors to the battlefield will drive there, but you can get a bus part way and then follow the main road uphill until you get to an edge of the woodland trail, part of which meanders over to the battlefield entrance.

The woodland around Culloden Battlefield

It’s a classic Scottish woodland of pines, spruce and fir, draped throughout in heather. Properly peaceful.

Trail marker

On the markers and boards, poetry and information is written in Gaelic and English. Words carry beauty too, after all.

  1. Hardy’s Wessex

I’m pretty lucky to be smack bang in the middle of Hardy’s Wessex. Thomas Hardy wrote Return of the Native five miles away in Sturminster Newton. The popular seaside town of Weymouth, much visited during school holidays, was Budmouth in many of Hardy’s novels, from Far From the Madding Crowd to Under the Greenwood Tree. And he located the Mayor of Casterbridge in Dorchester, where he lived for most of his life.

Max Gate, built by Hardy and lived in for 42 years is where he wrote one of my favourite books, Tess of the D’urbervilles. It’s around 3 miles from his birthplace, Hardy’s Cottage. Lots of people drive to both National Trust properties in one day, but you can’t really get a bus between the two. So naturally I’ve done what any Hardy heroine would, and walked down roads, over bridges, by fields and through woods to get from one to the other.

Swans in Hardy's Wessex

On a sunny day especially, the rivers and the fields have an awakening gleam to them. Hardy was a big walker, and would have seen these scenes as he conjured up the fates of his milkmaids, furze (gorse) cutters, curates and wronged lovers.

River and bridge in Hardy's Wessex

A view from and to a bridge en route to Hardy’s Cottage. Best viewed on foot or bike.

A redwood tree

The closer you get to Hardy’s Cottage, the more the landscape veils itself over you. Giant redwood trees tower, furze surrounds and hollows scoop. Until at last…

View over to Hardy's Cottage outside Dorchester

Hardy’s Cottage. Still a sweet sight 25 years after my first visit.

  1. Luskentyre Beach, Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides

To get onto the beach, you walk on the same road as the cars. One by one, they all pass you by. And they’ll all get to the beach faster than you, but they won’t stop to spot the little things.

Blue shell

Tiny blue shells like this (and their inhabitants) were strewn in the grass on the way to Luskentyre Beach.

An opening in the dunes at Luskentyre Beach in Harris

The dunes are extensive – and they get quite high towards the end, so be prepared to jump down!

Sand, sea and sky at Luskentyre Beach in Harris

Luskentyre Beach is vast and it takes a long time for the tide to go out. The sand is the gorgeous colour it is because it’s made from shells, not rocks. With the beach as your footpath, you can create some new sand, crunching shells underfoot.

Walking back along Luskentyre Beach on Harris
  1. Dunvegan
view over to the MacLeod Tables hills

Most people who stay on Skye will visit Dunvegan Castle, it’s one of the premier attractions. Though the castle interiors are closed this year, the historic gardens are still open.

Without a car to tie you down, you can extend your visit by heading for the Druim na creige hill for a walk that has great views of the MacLeod Tables, two flat top hills named after the clan who have called Dunvegan home for over 800 years.

And if you end the walk in Dunvegan village then you should enjoy a drink at The Dunvegan (if it’s allowed) before the next bus arrives. Slowly.

—

Sign up to Slow Ways here

Shetland’s love affair with wool

This weekend should have been the start of the 11th annual Shetland Wool Week here in the island’s capital Lerwick. It has instead gone digital due to Covid. I had no idea such a week existed – until yesterday when I stepped into a peti knitting shop called Jamieson’s.

My mum has always been the knitter in the family, making clothes for me and my brother growing up and knitting herself a dazzling wardrobe of jumpers, cardigans, scarves, hats and mittens over the years.

By total contrast, I’ve never thought I really suit jumpers, and I don’t know how to knit. I just about managed two rows of a blue woollen scarf once, before mum had to step in.

Even so, as we entered Jamieson’s, closing the door on 40mph winds, I could tell we’d walked into knitwear Mecca. A colour kaleidoscope of a sweet shop consisting entirely of wool.

Scroll on for a photo story of my initiation into Shetland’s wonderful world of wool.

Spools of Jamieson’s colourful wools

Shetland, and Fair Isle especially, is famed for its wool production, its knitters and its knitwear. There are Shetland sheep all over the islands, an ancient breed that produces very fine wool. It was only a few years ago that knitting was taken off school curriculums.

Jamieson’s bag

Jamieson’s has been the leading player in the Shetland wool industry for a long time, launching as a business in 1893. Every item of clothing or spool of wool they make has been produced from yarns they’ve spun themselves from the fleeces of their flocks of these ancient sheep.

A Fair Isle patterned hooded jumper
A Fair Isle patterned vest jumper

Using a mixture of natural-coloured wools and dyed wools with names like Yell Sound Blue, Aubretia and Peat, they produce intricately patterned classic jumper styles, and also headbands, gloves and beanie hats.

My new chunky knit jumper
Me wearing my chunky knit jumper

Remember Sarah Lund in Danish drama The Killing? As I scanned rows and rows of knitwear at Jamieson’s, it seems I was destined to channel her Scandi jumper-toting style with this chunky knit number. It was a perfect fit.

Knitting in a Fair Isle jumper

Not to be left out, my mum treated herself to a hooded cardigan jumper, knitted in the Fair Isle style.

What actually is Fair Isle? The use of colour isn’t necessarily different to other styles of knitting, but the styles of patterns that are most associated with Fair Isle originated there, 67 miles from the Shetland mainland. While they share similarities with Scandinavian tradition, Fair Isle jumpers are entirely in a league of their own I think.

Royal fun fact: this painting of Prince Edward, Duke of Windsor from 1925 made Fair Isle famous.

Jamieson’s gloves
Jamieson’s Fair Isle accessories

Accessories. Hard to resist accessories when they look like this! I felt they were necessary to brighten the harsh winter ahead.

The Shetland Textile Museum

Riding high from our successful shopping spree, we made for the other main Lerwick knitwear landmark, the Shetland Textile Museum.

Looking just a bit unassuming, this building on the northern edge of Lerwick was originally an 18th Century fishing böd (or booth).

It houses some fascinating and beautiful objects, and the museum has over 600 objects in its collection.

Plaque at the Shetland Textile Museum

The böd was the birthplace in 1792 of the co-founder of P&O, Arthur Anderson.

Another royal fun fact: on her coronation in 1838, Anderson gave Queen Victoria a pair of Shetland wool lace stockings. She liked them so much that she ordered 12 more pairs, sparking a significant trend among the wealthy for such wool items and greatly increasing Shetland wool sales.

Loom from the front
Loom and rug
Loom and outfits

This loom on display was given to the museum five years ago. It was owned and used by the company TM Adie and Sons, and by members of the Jamieson family.

At its most basic, a loom holds the threads that go into making an item of clothing or soft furnishing, weaving them quicker than human hands can.

Iris rug
Gloves
Knitted berets

Here are a few of the items on display I liked the most. An iris rug, some natty gloves and lots of woolly berets.

My mum knitting

After seeing all the great knitting on show, my mum was inspired to pick up her knitting project for the first time in our trip.

My chunky knit jumper laid out
Close up of neck pattern

So I’m a knitwear convert now.

I love my chunky knit jumper and my gloves. They will serve me warmly over many future winters, and the expert, loving way they’ve been made tells me that Shetland’s wool industry is only going to keep growing.

But I won’t just be taking woolly souvenirs home with me from Shetland. I’m also inspired to take up knitting when I get back.

Jamieson’s needn’t lose any sleep though!

———

Inspired to pick up some knitting needles too? Browse Shetland Wool Week’s programme of digital events here.

Ten things I’ve learned about Orkney

On 10th September we set sail for one of the UK’s more remote spots, the Orkney Islands.

Though situated only about ten miles from the Scottish mainland, Orkney has a Scandinavian past that makes most native Orcadians a quarter Norwegian.

Since arriving we’ve had a crash course in life on the Orkney Islands, as we’ve walked its coasts, wandered its towns and dodged its many cows.

A day on from sailing away, here are ten things I learned about life on Orkney:

1. Orkney’s flag is similar to Norway’s flag

The Orkney flag
Orkney flag windows in central Kirkwall
Orkney flag-coloured windows in
central Kirkwall

Norse people settled on the islands from around the 8th Century and Orkney was ruled by the Norwegian kingdom for 600 years.

The islands were a sort of Viking HQ, a base for raids elsewhere in Scotland.

Though rulers and raiders had such enigmatic names as Thorfinn Skull-splitter, and King Eric Bloodaxe, archaeology tells that us that the most common occupation for Vikings was farming – and one look at Orkney’s farmland tells you what a prize it must have been.

Norwegian rule wound down after 1468 when the islands were given to the Scottish Crown as part of a marriage dowry.

Orkney’s Viking age is told in the Orkneyinga Saga, a 12th Century narrative that was written in Iceland. There’s a saga centre in Orphir on the mainland, though sadly it will remain closed until 2021.

2. Hitchhiking is a no-go, for now

The road to Burwick on South Ronaldsay in Orkney
The road to Burwick on South Ronaldsay in Orkney

Before arriving we’d read that Orcadians often stop for walkers and offer them lifts.

We knew right now this wouldn’t be so common, there being a pandemic and all, but after a 6.5 mile walk down the main road on South Ronaldsay, found no drivers willing to stop – and that was completely understandable, even before the latest round of government restrictions. With a second wave imminent, it will be that way for some time to come.

Tired as we were (our coastal walk after the road hike was 10 miles!) I reckon we saw more of Orkney in those few extra hours than drivers zipping about from A to B get to see.

3. Don’t trust the grass

Grass on the Orkney coast

Perhaps it’s mysterious Orkney voles, unfinished drainage works, or escaping cows causing damage but I’ve learned the hard way that even innocently flat-looking patches of grass must be viewed with utmost suspicion in Orkney.

Within hours of walking South Ronaldsay’s roadsides, I tripped twice and my brother fell over hidden animal burrows; a few hours later l fell into a massive, shoulder high hole that had been completely imperceptible (until I fell in). Luckily I escaped with just a few grazes!

What’s more, sometimes the grass doesn’t even look real – like the fields of epic long grass we’ve spotted near the sea, smoothed by the wind as it grows (see entry number seven).

4. Cows are a-plenty

Everybody needs good neighbours

Where to start with the cows? They are quite literally everywhere. You cannot pop to Co-op for a loaf of bread or glance out of the window without noticing a field of cows somewhere nearby, lolling and munching.

As it turns out, Orkney has the highest density of cattle in Europe – up to 30,000 of them.

And with great density comes sometimes uncomfortable proximity.

Caught in the act (see my GIF, above), our neighbouring field of cows one morning escaped opposite our cottage near Stromness and proceeded on a jolly. They were eventually herded back that morning by a very subdued farmer, only for his sheep to escape the next day.

And of another memorable moment of bovine behaviour, let me just describe the moments before I fell down that hole I told you about:

A small coastal country lane, barely wide enough to fit a Ford Ka. On either side, two fields of cows, both alike in mafia-style indignity, their clans’ respective bulls braying, snorting and maddeningly mooing at each other. Leaning as far over their barbed wire fences as they possibly can, leaving very little space on the lane. We stand before this scene, frozen.

I beg my brother to change our course, try another route. The cows start to jump around, turning themselves into two story cows. They don’t seem to see us but I figure that’s because we haven’t walked directly into their crosshairs – yet.

I plead again, ‘let’s go back to the coast path, it’s a longer route, but who cares!’

My brother, getting his shit together, looks again at a nearby path with DO NOT ENTER signs across it – it swerves away from the cows and, he realises, is accessible to walkers.

Hallelujah!

In my relief, I jostle onto the flat grassy verge at the start of our new path…. and fall down a ruddy great hole.

5. There’s no shortage of seals either

Seals off the coast of South Ronaldsay
Four seal blobs

Both harbour and grey seals can be in the waters around Orkney.

Best observed in harbours or bays, they look like grey-coloured buoys, placid in the water as they survey its contents, before bobbing under to hunt.

On one walk, we saw over 20 seals on a 10 mile stretch of coastline, and I’m sure there were many more gliding around undetected.

6. Magnus means a lot

St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall

Magnus Erlendsson was an Earl of Orkney, born in 1080. He actually jobshared with his cousin Håkon Paulsson, who was envious of his greater popularity.

So envious in fact that he had his cook murder Magnus c1117 on the island of Egilsay.

This led to what I would describe as Medieval Magnus Mania in Orkney, something his cousin likely didn’t appreciate.

A church was built on Egilsay to commemorate the slain earl, he was made a saint a few years later and his nephew Earl Rognvald arranged for the building of St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall (pictured), still completely stunning today and unique in its style and origins from other Scottish churches.

Today, visitors can walk the St Magnus Way, a 55 mile pilgrimage route around other sites of interest in the St Magnus story.

7. It gets windy

Nature’s tumble dryer

So windy, Orcadians use hardcore pegs to hang washing outside and have it not blow away. Sadly they can have cloth-ripping consequences for certain undergarments as the pegs are difficult (and painful) to take off. So long, faithful M&S pants…

8. Neolithic history is everywhere to be found

Some of the Neolithic houses at Skara Brae
Skara Brae

And it is stunning!

Many of the Neolithic sites so far uncovered on Orkney are thought to have been built or erected before the Egyptian Pyramids, or even Stonehenge. Despite a Norse influence on most place names and 600 years of Norwegian rule, the extent and complexity of Neolithic life on Orkney has been steadily revealed thanks to continued archaeological efforts.

Here are my top picks, based on what’s open right now:

Skara Brae

Skara Brae Neolithic village

Europe’s best-preserved Neolithic settlement. You need to book in advance at the moment to be able to visit (adult £7) and Historic Scotland could really use the support. It’s run really well, the houses are fascinating to walk around and pore over, and the beach just behind is wonderful for a stroll. The southern half of the bay is popular with surfers, too.

Fun fact: in its heyday, the beach would not have been so close, but erosion has created the bay. Inhabitants would instead have had supplies of fresh water from now-disappeared lochs and lochans (small lochs).

The Brodgar Stone Circle

The Brodgar Stone Circle

Part of an RSPB Reserve, the stone circle as it is now features 35 of the original 60 standing stones. Pre-dating Stonehenge by a few hundred years, Brodgar is at the heart of Neolithic Orkney.

The Standing Stones of Stenness

One of the Standing Stones of Stenness

There aren’t too many of them standing anymore, but you’ll find a small circle inland and a few opposite by Stenness.

One of the loveliest views on the island is just up-road, looking back down towards Stenness, with Brodgar in the distance. The proximity of these two ceremonial sites really shows how important the area was in Neolithic times. History right before your eyes.

Barnhouse Settlement

Barnhouse Settlement in Orkney
Part of the Barnhouse Settlement, with Harray Loch behind it

Just behind the Stenness stones is Barnhouse Settlement. It doesn’t get much press compared to Skara Brae, and we were the only visitors I could see, but its a pretty spot overlooking Loch Harray, with a chance to spot resident swans and otters (if you’re lucky).

Tomb of the Eagles

The entrance to the Tomb of the Eagles

Go mostly for the great coastal walking, as although you can see the outside of the tomb, you can’t get into it at the moment.

Fun fact: although originally named Isbister Chambered Cairn, it changed name after a book called Tomb of the Eagles was published, on account of sea eagle skeletons found inside, along with 16,000 human bones.

There are also many other brilliant sites dotted about on the Orkney Islands that you just pass here and there on walks. And many that sadly aren’t open at the moment, like the Maeshowe tomb near Stenness, with its epic stature and ancient graffiti.

9. Kirkwall hosts a barmy annual sport called a ‘ba’

A display on the game of ba in the Orkney Museum
A display on The ba game at the Orkney Museum in Kirkwall

It not being Christmas or New Year’s Day, I don’t have a first hand account of this frenzied sport, but the lovely Orkney Museum in Kirkwall (currently open Tuesdays, Thursdays & Fridays) has a display all about it, alongside numerous ba balls earned by various Uppie or Doonie victors.

Uppies and Doonies? They are two teams of Kirkwall men from either the Uppie or Doonie halfs of the town. They meet twice each year on Christmas and New Year to pass (well, fight) a ba ball from Kirkwall’s Merket Cross in the centre towards their respective sides of town. Victoria Street for the Uppies and Albert Street for the Doonies.

Five facts about The ba:

⁃ Some say there’s been a ba played in Kirkwall since Viking times.

⁃ A women’s ba match took place on Christmas Day in 1945, won by the festively named Barbara Yule. They also played a New Year’s Day match, which was the second and last game to be played by women. Too much of a good thing?

– A boys ba takes place at 10am, for under fifteens. The shortest ba took only four minutes, while the longest six hours.

⁃ In the men’s ba, consumption of alcohol is a key element of proceedings.

⁃ It has been known to regularly go on for many hours, potentially related to the previous point.

10. It is impossible to take a bad photo on Hoy

48 hours in Inverness

** As of Monday 14th September, the ‘rule of six’ has come into effect across Scotland, meaning that no more than six people across two households can meet up (with some exceptions such as sports activities and church services). So it almost goes without saying that some of my below recommendations may now be subject to the change in rules. However, so long as you’re sticking to the rules and you’re not, for example, travelling in a group of 30 from 10 different households, you ought to be ok. **

Hello from the Scottish Highlands!

I’m writing this on my iPhone from my top bunk in the Cairngorm Lodge Scottish Youth Hostel – My brother having won the coin toss for the lower bunk…

It’s great to be back in a Youth Hostel, we spent many family holidays in them around the UK and Europe, and in 2018 I spent a memorable night in the Hi Hostel on Lantau Island, Hong Kong, on the edge of jungle. Bugs, so many bugs!

The first week of our Scottish adventure has changed around somewhat, as adventures can do.

We had planned to spend a week traversing the North Coast 500 (‘Scotland’s Route 66’) from Ullapool, gateway to the Outer Hebrides, round to Thurso, then to take a ferry from wonderfully named Scrabster to Stromness on Orkney.

But, partly due to some spanners in the public bus network (one short transfer was going to cost £94 for private hire), we decided perhaps it’s best done another year.

Instead, we were lucky enough to spend the weekend in lovely Inverness, the largest city in the Highlands.

And I thought I would share a few recommendations of things to do and see, whether you plan to visit in the future, or just pass through on the way to your own adventure.

A stay at the Crown Guest Hotel

The Crown Guest Hotel
Courtesy of Crown Guest Hotel

Rooms feature tartan touches, nice furniture and art on the walls. A night in a family room is a bargain £65 on booking.com. Note they’re not serving breakfast at the moment, but I’m told that Rendezvous Cafe does a whacking great Scottish breakfast, Comfort Foods has a vegan breakfast and Girvans do lovely brunches.

The hotel is near the Inverness Castle and you can pass it on your way down to the Ness River.

Ness Islands walk

Ness islands

Inverness, from the Gaelic Inbhir Nis, means mouth of the Ness. It’s quite a short river, 6 miles in length, flowing from Loch Ness through to Loch Dochfour.

I learned that because the Ness River has a glacial origin, meaning that there was a big catchment of water when the river was formed, it discharges a huge amount of water, one of the highest rates of any river in the UK, explaining why it’s quite fast flowing.

And the glacial origin is part of the reason for the Nessie monster myth – Loch Ness is a staggering 400m deep! Perfect for hiding monsters, real or imagined.

St Andrew’s Cathedral

A good place to start is St Andrew’s Cathedral closer to town, worth a peek inside if you have time, and there’s a labyrinth cut into the grass outside too. If you continue past the Cathedral along that side, after about 20 minutes you’ll come to a small white bridge that takes you over to the Ness Islands.

A Dolphin Spirit tour

Out with our Dolphin Spirit tour guide
Not a dolphin

Whether you see dolphins or not (and we didn’t, sob), a Dolphin Spirit tour is a beautiful way to spend 75 minutes, gliding along the Moray Firth.

If you’re lucky with calm waters or even a bit of sunshine, and you choose a time closer to high tide coming in, you’ll stand the best chance. So I’d recommend the 1pm slot.

Coming back from the Moray Firth
There are seals in this photo but you might need a telescope

We saw harbour and grey seals lolling on rocks, swimming like otters (who are also around, though we didn’t see them), cormorants stretching their wings Batman-like, lovely gannets gliding by in the light breeze, oyster catchers and sandwich terns among other birds.

A detour to Cromarty

Signs on the hundred steps walk

Cromarty is a lovely little town right on the top of the Black Isle peninsula.

About a 40 min drive from Inverness (or a scenic hour on the 26a bus), it’s got pretty cafes, art galleries and shops, a lighthouse (used by Aberdeen university to chart marine life and birds in the area).

A beautiful donations box at East Church
Nicest donation box I think I’ve ever seen.

I especially loved Cromarty’s East Church, a historic parish church under the care of the Scottish Redundant Churches Trust.

A church has been on the site for over 700 years and in its heyday in the 1700s services were so popular that a new wing had to be added, the north aisle.

Out from Cromarty headland
A World War One bunker
A damselfly on heather

With really lovely views of Cromarty Firth and out to the North Sea, the Hundred Steps Walk is a must-do if you have a couple of hours to spend in Cromarty.

It takes you along the headland – called the Sutors of Cromarty – through beautiful woodland, up lots of steps (more than 100 I felt!) and along quaint little bridges.

Detour to Chanonry Point

Chanonry Point

Anyone wanting to increase the chance of seeing the famous Moray Firth dolphins should head to Chanonry Point.

It’s on the way back from Cromarty, or else around 20-30 mins from Inverness.

There are no guarantees (as I say, we didn’t see any, sadly) as dolphins are wild creatures, but you’ve got a wonderful vantage point, and a chance of seeing seals and sea birds like terns, if not dolphins.

Fixed price menus at The Mustard Seed and Contrast Brasserie

A meal at the Mustard Seed Restaurant
Courtesy of The Mustard Seed Restaurant

Inverness loves a fixed price menu, and two of the best can be found at The Contrast Brasserie at the Glenmoriston Townhouse and The Mustard Seed

I can vouch for the Contrast Brasserie’s salmon supreme, cooked to absolute perfection and served with basmati rice, cream and plenty of steamed green veggies and crispy kale.

We went to Contrast Brasserie on a Sunday when only the a la carte is available but on weekdays the fixed price menu is £17.95 for two courses, featuring local meat, fish and other produce.

Over at The Mustard Seed Restaurant, a bright yellow converted church, their early evening menu runs 7 days a week and two courses are a bargainous £14.95.

A picnic and a wander round Culloden

Entrance to Culloden

Culloden. Know what happened? It was a decisive loss in 1746 by the (mostly Scottish) Jacobite army against British government forces that ended the Jacobite rebellion – one that hoped to have the Stuart heir Charles Edward Stuart on the throne instead of the Hanoverian George II. Charles Stuart, better known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, was the Catholic grandson of the Catholic King James II who had reigned Britain for only two years after his brother King Charles II died. He had escaped on a boat to live the rest of his life in exile in France – and it was pretty much the same fate for the Bonnie Prince, after Culloden.

A memorial cairn to clans lost at the battle of Culloden

Culloden Battlefield is owned by National Trust for Scotland and it costs £11/£9.50 to go round the exhibition or else it’s free to explore the heather-filled moorland yourself. If the weather is even vaguely good, there are picnic tables outside the centre, before you walk round. There are a few signs dotted about, or audio guides for exhibition ticket holders, but Wikipedia actually has a really good rundown of the battle, if you’re self-guiding as we were.

Moorlnd of the Culloden battlefield

It is hard at times to imagine that such a peaceful place could be the same place where 1,500-2,000 Jacobites died or were wounded, in the space of an hour. But, lack of bogs aside, NTS have maintained the moor much as it would have existed back in the 1700s, as farm land for highland cattle. The cows are still there, as too are some wild goats.

A memorial stone to clans lost at the battle of Culloden

If you’re not already a member, I highly recommend getting National Trust for Scotland membership. They have struggled through the pandemic, and need all the help they can get. I’ve been a member for a few years and it’s cheaper than National Trust, but you get the same access to all National Trust properties in the UK, and it costs £61.20 for a year compared to £72. NTS also handily let you pay monthly instead of a bigger sum annually.

So, why should you go to Inverness, in a nutshell? Much of Inverness’s charms may lie on the outskirts or on day trips, but the Ness River is surely one of Europe’s prettiest city rivers, and a stay nearby is a brilliant way to kick off a Scottish holiday – or adventure.

Any highlights you think should be in the guide? Let me know below!

Food Travels: From Home

Buen Provecho. Buon Appetito. God appetit.

I’ve missed hearing those words said over delicious meals at faraway tables. I live for many things when I travel, but exploring new cuisines and trying bold, unusual flavours is the most satisfying thing about any trip – and most days revolve around what to eat, where to go and when.

Although lockdown living stopped travel in its tracks, it didn’t stop my food travels.

It has been really satisfying cooking new cuisines and making staples completely from scratch like pasta and bread, as well as revelling in making slower food, over days or even weeks.

In the first of what I hope will become a series, I’d like to share a starter, main and pudding from three different countries, considering their origin and cultural importance, alongside my takes on tried and tested recipes from favourite chefs and bakers.

Hungry? Here we go!

For starters

Empanadas

Origins

Recipes have been found for empanadas as early as around 1520, including in a Catalan cookbook, using a seafood filling. Though the Moorish influence in Spain may have brought about their creation, most people associate the street food with Argentina, where they are practically a national dish.

The word is derived from the Spanish word empanar meaning ‘enbreaded’, or encased.

Street food faves

Argentina would be the obvious country to visit for some authentic empanadas, but closer to home you’ll find Argentinian expats sharing their love for this portable snack, at Porteña in Borough Market (my fave is cheese and ham and you can get 3 for £6.60); or, at La Fabrica in Barcelona’s medieval quarter, they serve a dizzying number of fillings, from classic (including beef or spinach) to contemporary (think tahini tofu or spicy tuna).

Sticking with the theme though…

Bake your own batch of empanadas

Makes 14-16

Pastry:
I use this Jamie Oliver recipe for my pastry and then make up 500g of my own fillings. To make an egg-free pastry, try this recipe, scaled up as needed.

Filling ideas:

Chorizo and potato – boil some new potatoes whole (until they are just cooked), cool them in cold water and then dice them. Dice your chosen chorizo and fry with a little tomato puree on a medium heat. After the oil starts to ooze, add the potatoes and a few pinches of paprika and seasoning and stir frequently until everything is well coated in chorizo oil and piping hot. If you want to add some spice, use spicy paprika, or add some chopped fresh red chilli near the end.

Mushroom and two cheese – mix together some cubed feta or Wensleydale with grated cheddar, or mozzarella (or any cheese / vegan alternative you fancy). Set aside while you fry sliced chestnut, field or halved button mushrooms in a healthy glug of olive oil, a crushed and chopped clove of garlic (or some finely chopped red onion) and a pinch of saffron or pinches of paprika. Add the cheese and melt into the mushrooms. Season.

Minced pork and onions – season your pork mince with salt and pepper, paprika, cumin and saffron if you have it. Mix. Thinly slice red and brown onions, frying on a low heat with a pinch of sugar and drop of water to caramelise a bit. Add the pork mince and stir on a medium heat until the mince is thoroughly cooked. Drain any excess fat.

Then just add 1-2 tablespoons of filling mixture to each cut round of pastry (use biscuit cutters), brush the remaining surface of each disc with egg or water and fold over. Crimp by pressing down on the half moon edges with a fork. Brush with the remaining egg, or some milk or water.

Bake in a 190°C (170°C fan) oven for 25-30 minutes.

The Main

Stracci pasta in a sausage and butternut squash sauce

Stracci, what?

Pronounced stratchy, this pasta is quite different from the refined ribbons of tagliatelle or fettuccine, and the careful construction of ravioli. The word stracci literally means ‘rags’ or ‘tattered’, the idea being that the pasta shapes are roughly cut, almost torn, from a sheet of pasta, in random sizes.

It’s the kind of pasta that works brilliantly with ragù-style chunky sauces.

Origins

Of the 350+ different pasta shapes in the world (I’m discounting the Heinz ones shaped like Peppa the Pig), Stracci pasta isn’t very well known and so it’s not easy to pinpoint where it originates from.

It’s fair to assume, however, that it has a grounding in peasant cooking – as does so much of Italian cuisine.

And the origins of pasta itself? You have to begin with noodles. The earliest known, a type of noodle made from millet in China, dates from 2000 BCE, graduating by 700 CE to the kind of soft noodle we’d recognise today.

By 850 CE, the Arab world was experimenting with ground durum wheat which spread along the Iberian Peninsula. Durum wheat pasta as we might know it showed up in much-invaded Sicily by the 1100s.

The rest is history, I think we can safely say.

Fail-safe pasta dough
Using a Gennaro Contaldo recipe

The first recipe I experimented with is now the only one I use! I was put off by other recipes calling for lots of egg yolks, which do add a richer flavour and colour, but seemed overkill to me. This recipe from Gennaro Contaldo is a great all rounder, super quick to make, using two eggs. It makes enough dough for 4 people to have a healthy portion of pasta for dinner, more if the dough is rolled thinner.

Follow Gennaro making the dough here.

Ingredients: 150g 00 pasta flour (or plain flour would suffice), 50g semolina (widely available, raises the gluten content in the dough), 2 medium eggs

Method:

Weigh and mix the flours, then crack the eggs and mix with a fork. Once the egg is binding to the flour and dough is forming, tip the dough and any flour not yet mixed in onto a clean surface and with clean hands knead the dough a little; stretch the dough using your fingertips and palms to work the gluten until all the flour is fully mixed in. Wrap the ball of dough in cling film or beeswax wrap and put in the fridge for 30 mins.

Notes: No oil or seasoning is added, though you can experiment with adding a little olive oil, or a touch of pepper if you like. I prefer to use the dough as soon as it’s made, but you can keep it in a dark coloured wrap for up to a week if you need to.

Then get rolling and sauce making!

Sausage and butternut squash sauce
From Jamie Cooks Italy

This sauce from Jamie Oliver is absolutely knock out. It is perfect for the stracci pasta and majorly moreish. For a plant-based alternative, you could cut pieces of veggie sausage and use a bit more oil as an alternative – the bay leaves and butternut squash are the quiet stars of the show.

Serves 4

Ingredients: olive oil, 8 fresh or dried bay leaves, 4 quality meat (or veggie) sausages, 1 onion, stick celery, 300g butternut squash, 1 tbsp red wine vinegar, 50g hard cheese, extra virgin olive oil.

Method:

Add the bay leaves and 2 tbsps of olive oil to and heavy bottomed frying pan, then squeeze out the meat from the sausage casings into the pan, using a wooden spoon to break the meat into lumps. Slow fry on a medium-low heat until lightly golden. (Beware of spitting fat as you stir). If using veggie sausages, get them to room temperature and slice, adding to plenty of olive oil in a pan to cook.

Roughly chop the onion, celery and peeled butternut squash into quite small chunks and add it all to the frying pan along with some black pepper. Turn the heat up to medium and stir every so often to keep it mixing and cook the butternut squash. Add the vinegar and some salt and keep it cooking away.

Meanwhile, roll out your pasta dough as thinly as you can – ideally 2mm but thicker will still taste great (keeping any unused pasta wrapped up to stop it drying out).

Use a pasta wheel or small knife to cut random shapes all along the pasta sheet – think rags or stained glass window shapes.

Cook in boiling water for a couple of minutes until the pasta rises, then use a slotted spoon to transfer your pasta over to the frying pan, allowing a good amount of starchy pasta water into the pan as well.

Grate over most of the cheese, add some extra virgin olive oil and mix well so the cheese melts before serving topped with the last of the cheese.

YUM.

Pud

Danish honey cake

About

Honey has been used in cooking far longer than sugar. The style of honey cake that Trine Hahnemann features in her wonderful book, Scandinavian Baking, is based on a kind of cake that’s been part of Scandi tradition for over 230 years.

The small Danish town of Christiansfeld (towards the south of the country, near the east coast) is the home of honey cake – including little hearts covered in chocolate.

The jury’s out on which bakery produces the best honey goodness, but there are four main bakeries offering their own takes, and Xocolatl is based on the site of the first bakery to produce them.

Recipe

I enjoyed making Trine’s delightfully sweet and earthy honey cake and if I made it again I would try her alternative suggestion of just baking the cake without adding buttercream or icing – it makes great toast apparently!

Ingredients:

For the cake: 100g butter plus more for the tin, 125g honey, 3 eggs, lightly beaten, 60g soft brown sugar, 275g plain flour1, ½ tsp bicarbonate of soda, 3 tsp ground cinnamon, 2 tsp ground ginger, 1 tsp ground cloves, 2 tbsp finely grated orange zest, 200g crème fraîche

For the buttercream: 250g butter, softened, 150g icing sugar, finely grated zest of 2 oranges

For the frosting (optional): 2 to 3 tbsp orange juice, 160g icing sugar, 1 tbsp finely grated orange zest (and some extra to sprinkle on top)

Method:

Preheat the oven to 180°C (160°C fan).

Butter a 30 x 11cm loaf tin (or similar) and line the bottom of the tin with buttered greaseproof paper, or baking parchment.

Melt the butter and honey in a saucepan and let cool a little. Meanwhile, in a separate bowl beat the eggs and brown sugar together with an electric mixer or hand whisk, until light and paler in colour.

Sift in the flour, bicarbonate of soda, and all the spices and fold in gently, then do the same with the honey mixture. Finally, fold in the zest and crème fraîche and pour into the prepared tin.

Bake for one hour. Insert a skewer into the middle of the cake to check if it emerges clean and when it does, take the cake out to cool on a wire rack.

While the cake bakes, make the buttercream in a small bowl – just beat all the ingredients until smooth. Cover and keep cold until you need it.

When the cake is cold, cut it horizontally into three with a serrated knife. Spread the buttercream on the bottom and middle layers, then reassemble the cake.

Mix all the ingredients for the frosting (if using) and spread it over the top.
Leave the frosting to set before serving.

—

I hope you enjoy these recipes as much as I have. And if you want to comment below with your favourite recipe from around the world, I will try and give it a go.

Sources:

https://www.greatbritishchefs.com/features/orgins-of-pasta

https://www.christiansfeldcentret.dk/en/the-history/honey-cakes-tiled-stoves

Travel in an age of travel shame

longer read (9-10 mins)

Anything to declare? Some travel shame perhaps?

I read a New York Times article recently, Shh! We’re heading on vacation, that probed the notion of travellers who normally post about their trips on social media staying silent for fear of being travel shamed by friends, family or strangers (thanks Twitter).

If you read the piece, you’ll note there’s perhaps a touch of irony in parts:

‘Aside from her husband and their two travel companions – and now, readers of the New York Times – Ms. Gaudino has no plans to tell anyone about her trip’.

Hopefully her friends aren’t that into the New York Times…

On a serious note though, how did so-called travel shaming come about and what place does it have in a pandemic? How do we travel (or view travelling) with a clear conscience right now?

Read on for my eight point ponder:

REMOTENESS

A remote corner of the world

During a call with friends in Washington D.C. the other day I mentioned my forthcoming Scottish adventure. I was very quick to emphasise that we would be travelling as remotely as public transport would allow us.

Pre-pandemic, this would be taken for what it is, a desire to get away from tourist hotspots. But there I was, not wanting to come across as naive to the risks of travelling during a pandemic.

I will freely admit that I felt slightly guilty to be admitting to travelling away from home (even within the UK) for a such a length of time, at this time.

Travel shame isn’t new, of course. It’s just morphed.

FLYGSKAM

A plane's turbine

In 2018 the ‘flygskam’ or ‘flight shame’ movement took off, championed by Swedes including Greta Thunberg’s mother, opera singer Malena Ernman. Broadly, it is a commitment to travel slower, by train or by boat for example, or to not travel at all, thereby exerting a lower carbon footprint.

On the more controversial side, it promotes the idea of flying as a shameful act, literally flying in the face of climate change. And what started in Scandinavia has had a large effect around the world.

At World Travel Market in London last November I recall the term mentioned at almost every event I attended. Many industry insiders considered flight shame a top consideration for travellers and a big worry for the aviation industry, months before the cataclysm of COVID-19 hit us.

For myself, I don’t really agree that criticising or shaming ordinary, sensible people is the best way to go about encouraging more responsible, collective action. And shaming the people who really don’t give a damn? Good luck to you!

In the sense that the two types of travel shame can be compared, it is understandable that for many of us our concern about travelling is not just whether it is actually safe enough (or carbon neutral), but what people will think of our choices.

QUARANTINING

Quarantine country checklist

Globally, according to John Hopkins University, the total number of COVID-19 cases stands at over 24.2 million (as of 26th August).

In the UK, a slowing of cases is challenged by increasingly familiar announcements of local lockdowns, as in Aberdeen and Manchester, and changes to the government’s list of air corridor countries that now require a spell of quarantine on return.

Particularly in the past few weeks we have seen hundreds of thousands of UK travellers return early from countries where cases have climbed: Spain, France, The Netherlands, Croatia, Trinidad and Tobago.

One holidaymaker who narrowly missed returning from France in time to avoid quarantining had this to say to The Guardian:

‘How does it make sense? Either you allow people proper time to stagger getting back or you say quarantine is effective immediately. A 12- or 24-hour deadline just means that 100,000 people rushed back one day earlier than us, they’re more high risk because of that, and we are in quarantine and they’re out in open spaces.’

Government mishandling of deadlines aside, there was always a certain inevitability that the creation of air corridors from the UK, a country with the 13th highest number of cases in the world, would lead to rocketing case rates in popular holiday destinations.

Despite the risks, UK tourists are highly sought after, as Portugal’s recent successful fight for an air corridor has shown. (Thinking of going? FYI Lisbon remains under tighter controls than the rest of the country, but Porto is a beautiful alternative for a weekend away, as this travel guide proves).

Given the obvious risks, what do people on both sides of the argument think?

OWN IT

Polaroid Camera

Speaking to the New York Times, Catharine Jones described spending a weekend away with her family, 3 1/2 hours north of her home in Minnesota. She hesitated about posting a picture of her family at their remote cabin, admitting, ‘I feel like vacation pictures signal to the world, “hey! This isn’t so bad!” and it has been really that bad for many, many, many people’.

So there is certainly a guilt factor in all of this. That somehow it is unfair to those who are suffering, to be seen to be having a good time.

Lauren Pearlman also spoke to the New York Times, about learning a friend had hidden her travel plans: ‘if you’re going to go on vacation, then own it and say that you are. If you don’t feel like you can advertise it, then obviously you aren’t positive it’s the ethical thing to do’.

It’s hard to argue with that sentiment. What do we hide things for, if not because we know, even subconsciously, that something is wrong? But what about the other side of the coin? The grey area of just not wanting to be shouted at, even though you feel you’re in the right?

JUDGING

Ketchum survey results

Staying in America for a moment, according to a survey carried out by PR company Ketchum, 67% of 4,000 Americans surveyed said they expected to judge others for travelling before they themselves think it’s safe, while 56% said they expected to self-censor on social media so as to avoid being travel shamed.

If we admit it, we have probably all been quicker to judge others since the pandemic began, whether it be toilet roll purchasing habits, mask etiquette or a willingness to leave the house.

Alongside these natural concerns about how people are behaving, for anyone who has been shielding or keeping indoors for longer periods, it’s understandable to feel that some have been moving too fast, too early. Sometimes, all we can be sure of is our own judgement, and that’s ok.

But the frequently signposted ‘new normal’ had to start sooner or later. Our isolation couldn’t go on forever.

MENTAL HEALTH

Rainbows

According to the Office of National Statistics, from a survey in June, one in five of us have likely experienced depression this year – that’s up from one in ten last year. There’s a lot on our minds, so it’s no wonder.

And, with a ‘mental health pandemic’ literally looming over us, on top of everything else, isn’t there something to be said for doing what we need to do for our own mental health, even if it involves hopping on a plane somewhere?

We all know that being outdoors can help combat stress. Further from the front door, the mind also has a chance to stumble on new stimuli. Take a break from technology.

But what’s good for our mental health doesn’t need to be exclusive of what’s good for our physical health, they are one and the same. And there isn’t a one size fits all way to see this crisis through, or recover from the effects.

CAREFUL NOW

Face mask GIF

As someone who experienced a particularly nasty case of COVID-19 back in March-April, I still worry about who I could have passed it on to before I experienced symptoms. I fear catching it again and unwittingly spreading it while I’m away.

However, before I set foot in Scotland, I will have a better idea of my own health, having taken a Coronavirus test as part of a King’s College study.

Obviously I hope it’s negative, but with immunity now thought to last only a few months at best, and with talk of an imminent second wave, it’s incredibly important, especially if travelling further afield, not to let once hyper-cautious behaviours slip just because we have more freedom of movement.

This article from BBC’s Medical Editor Fergus Walsh gives a really balanced overview of life now compared to the height of a pandemic, and has this to say about being careful now more than ever:

‘We all still have a role to play in curbing the outbreak. Social distancing and hand hygiene still matter. If you can’t remember how many people you are allowed in your back garden, or whether it’s OK to give two people from different households a lift to the shops, at least remember to wash your hands and not get too close to those you don’t live with.’

CONCLUSION

Speech bubble
  • Travel and migration is in our DNA – whether we’re moving countries, seeking refuge or exploring a new destination on holiday.
  • We shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving the house, if we feel safe to do so and guidelines allow it. If we don’t feel safe? That’s ok, tomorrow is a new day.
  • Our tourism and hospitality industries need as much of our support as we can give them.
  • The best responses to this terrible pandemic have been the ones that involve us coming together, looking out for one another.
  • That means doing our best not to risk the health of other people.
  • It also means a commitment not to judge others who might be doing the best they can in trying times, and whose circumstances we may not fully understand.
  • No-one is an expert on what the ‘new normal’ means exactly, and how we should live it.

So I’m going to own my adventure round Scotland and I won’t be keeping silent about it. In fact, for a few hours each week I’m planning on producing a podcast, sharing my experiences as I go. But the other 165 hours each week?

Keeping off social media and enjoying a trip for what it is, unbridled by technology… surely that’s the holy grail many of us yearn for anyway?!

Safe travels.

In My Travel Opinion: Staycationing in Scotland

Scotland postcard

There are always two sides to every story.

Take the ‘news’ today that a few restaurants in the South West have left the Eat Out to Help Out scheme, complaining of overcrowding Monday – Wednesday and empty tables the rest of the week. That’s fair enough. But from my perspective, it’s a fantastic offer and I’ve enjoyed dining out in Sherborne in Dorset a few times. What’s more, I’ve noticed both cafes to be quite busy on other days.

Meanwhile in Scotland, there are tales that a new type of tourist has been invading Scotland since July: the ‘dirty’ or ‘clatty’ camper.

The Clatty Campers

A field filled with tents
Crowded tents by Edward Paterson

I first heard about the problem a few weeks back on the BBC radio programme Scotland Outdoors. Presenters Mark Stephen and Euan McIlwraith chatted to campaigner Anne Widdop who was very quite impassioned, shall we say, about what’s going on in Morar, Western Scotland:

It started on 11th July, before the 5 mile travel ban had been lifted. We had 42 tents appear on Morar beach, basically a shanty town of tents, cheek by jowl. The road was blocked with cars and camper vans, the bins were overflowing, people dumping rubbish in every nook and cranny. After the weekend, [there were] abandoned tents, camping gear, fire pits, destroying the marram grass. And the human excrement everywhere…it’s truly awful. It really is the wholesale desecration of an internationally important habitat. The responsible, sensible visitors are already saying they don’t want to visit and they don’t want to come back, entirely due to this.

Yet, when one of the presenters journeyed over to the popular Hebridean island of Mull, he found… nothing out of the ordinary. You have to pay to travel over on the CalMac ferry, but that doesn’t stop it being a hugely popular island. Clearly, dirty camping hasn’t reached every corner of Scotland.

When I dug a bit deeper to see how related to the pandemic it was, I noticed that ‘car campers ‘, as Anne calls them, aren’t a new phenomenon in Scotland, as this report from last summer shows.

But human poop in bins is not something any local should have to deal with. Couldn’t the council be doing more to assist?

Under increasing pressure, some councils are responding. Lochbroom Community Council, responsible for the area around Ullapool on the North West Coast, announced a few days ago that they’d be increasing signage towards open facilities and putting out trowels in lay-bys, as an ‘emergency last resort’ for drivers.

The Vast Majority

Three sheep in a field
Sheep on the island of Mull

The truth is, though, that the majority of Scotland’s visitors seem to be behaving themselves. Summer is always going to be a bit of a stress on locals, but perhaps it can be slightly blown out of proportion. That’s the impression I get anyway. When I asked a friend from Dundee if she’d heard of any incidents, she hadn’t. In her view, for the most part ‘locals have a charmed life up there.’

And, despite recent calls on the people behind the popular North Coast 500 driving route to stop advertising, Scotland’s tourism business can’t do without visitors. And there are plenty on their way to drive along those roads, given how much accommodation appears to be fully booked through September.

If facilities are closed, you surely can’t entirely blame tourists when nature calls. Councils should adopt more ideas from mainland Europe and New Zealand, such as creating Aires, which are car park or farm pitstops designated for caravans or cars, often free of charge. Creating permit systems for cars in beauty spots is another idea.

But with options like this not yet a reality, VisitScotland has its work cut out for the rest of the year to encourage tourism, curb dirty camping and keep locals happy. Last Monday, its Chief Executive Malcolm Roughhead promised to step up efforts, targeting novice campers and encouraging them to use official campsites.

‘I think it’s been about people who are maybe [new] to the countryside not understanding the access code, and not understanding that we have to protect those assets’.

So, how to avoid the ire of locals, and be a considerate visitor?

1. Be responsible

In the forest on a campsite at Banff National Park
A campsite in Banff National Park. We could learn a thing or two from how things are organised in North America.

The access code that the chief of VisitScotland mentions is the Scottish Outdoor Access Code. All 135 pages of it.

I’m going to bet a haggis that few members of the public have read the entire code, word for word.

So here’s a summary:

  • Take responsibility for your own actions – eg. care for your own safety, keep alert for hazards, take special care with children.
  • Respect people’s privacy and peace of mind – eg. do not act in ways that might annoy or alarm people, especially at night.
  • Help land managers and others to work safely and effectively  – eg. keep clear of land management operations like harvesting or tree-felling, avoid damaging crops, leave gates as you find them.
  • Care for your environment – treat it with care. Don’t disturb wildlife and take your litter away with you. [And don’t shit in bins].
  • Keep your dog under proper control – dogs are popular companions, but take special care if near livestock, or during the bird breeding season, and always pick up after your dog.
  • For a slightly expanded version, check out this leaflet.

It’s just common sense really – something you all have, friends of the blog!

2. Wild camp like a wild camper

Two tents on a remote mountainside
Wild camping by Dino Reichmuth

Because of the 2003 Scottish Land Reform Act, the country has some of the best access rights in the world. This means that wild camping is easier. But common sense, and the code, state that even when wild camping, you should look to seek permission from landowners.

From what I’ve read, many locals and landowners are only too happy to assist in explaining where is best to wild camp, because it means that it’s being done responsibly, and you’ll be more comfortable too. Result.

Camping right next to a ‘do not camp here’ sign on the other hand? Not cool.

3. Support hostels

Gearrannan Hostel on Lewis in the Outer Hebrides
Gearrannan Hostel on Lewis in the Outer Hebrides

If you prefer a bed to a sleeping bag, booking before you go is pretty essential, unless you’re told otherwise. Some accommodation owners are understandably stipulating that walk-ins and on the day bookings won’t be possible.

A large part of this is down to the distance between guests that’s required under Covid regulations. As you’d expect, hostels have taken a huge hit because you can’t have strangers staying together in dorms.

But a healthy number are open for business. For groups of family or friends it can be good value to take over a dorm or even a whole hostel. Always worth seeing if there’ll be a hostel near you to support; You can search hostels across the UK via the Independent Hostels website or browse Scottish Youth Hostels, who have seven hostels open at the moment (if you include Cairngorm Lodge, recently renovated and re-opening on 20th August).

4. Go remote

Outlines of a loch and mountains in a remote corner of Mull
A remote corner of Mull

It can be hard to judge how popular or overcrowded certain spots will be, particularly given that Scots are rightly staycationing in their own country, reaching further afield than outsiders might. Google maps is quite handy for zooming in to remote locations to find off the beaten track accommodation. And even small villages can have their own websites with great local information.

So far though, I’ve found islands such as Orkney, Shetland and those in the Outer Hebrides (famous last words) to have the most availability at the moment. And I love how well-covered the islands are by public transport, helping those who can’t drive (like me).

And if you just can’t seem to find anything in a specific location, ask a host who is fully booked where else they’d recommend you try. Or go wild…

Me? From early September I’ll be up on the North Coast before sailing out to live the island life for a bit. Question is, what side of the story will we fall on?

You’ll have to wait and see – but whatever we do, I hope it’s not clatty.