Barny Butterfield of Sandford Orchards There is something inherently communal about a cider farm, but on March 21st, Sandford Orchards is stretching that sense of community all the way from Crediton to Uganda. The acclaimed Devon cidermaker has announced a major fundraiser at The Cider Works to support the charity Edukid, with a goal that is as clear as a crisp pint of Devon Red: funding a borehole to provide 800 children with safe, clean water. For one night only, the industrial charm of the warehouse and tap room will be transformed into a concert venue. The evening features The Bicycle Repair Man, known for a high-energy set of original tracks and uniquely "twisted" covers that are guaranteed to get feet moving among the fermentation vats. The Bicycle Repair Man A Rare Peek Behind the Scenes While the main event promises a lively atmosphere, the evening offers a particularly special draw for cider enthusiasts. Sandford Orchards is releasing a strictly limited run of 20 VIP tickets. These include an intimate, behind-the-scenes tour of the facility hosted by founder Barny Butterfield. It is a rare opportunity to step inside the "engine room" of one of the UK’s most successful independent cideries. Guests will gain access to the tank room, blending spaces, and the bottling area—parts of the operation usually strictly off-limits to the public. The tour culminates in a curated tasting in the private tasting room overlooking the works, where Barny will lead guests through a selection of their finest ciders, paired with artisan cheese and charcuterie platters, before they join the main party for the live music. Event Details What: Edukid Fundraiser - A Night of Music for Clean Water When: Saturday, 21st March 2026, 6:30pm – 11:00pm Where: The Cider Works, Sandford Orchards, Crediton, Devon Tickets: * Standard: £15 (Includes live music session) VIP: £75 (Includes founder-led tour, private tasting, and food) Note: This is an over-18s only event. All proceeds go toward the Edukid project to provide life-changing infrastructure for a school in Uganda. For tickets and further information, visit sandfordorchards.co.uk.

For some people autumn can be a time of melancholy and regret, for others it is a season of gold tinted joy. But even gloomy pessimists must look out at the Technicolor-countryside and be awed by the sheer beauty of the autumn when it puts on a really good display. My father Peter Hesp certainly loved autumn - he painted the picture illustrating the podcast - it’s entitled Horner In Autumn. Each year I look forward to seeing and experiencing the perfect examples of the genre. Endless blue skies will embrace a low sun that casts a clear golden light, quite unlike the light you see at any other time of year. The English countryside will look at its very best as long shadows throw everything into a soft and gentle series of highlights and profiles which run over hill and dale.  The first wood smoke of the season will waft blue and serene above thatched cottages, deer will be bulving in the forests and locking antlers in sunlit stately parks, and everywhere there will be the rufous and the red, copper and bronze, auburn and mahogany. The arboreal world will turn brunette, henna’d and golden beyond belief. Why are we treated to such a riot of colours? The answer is a sweet one. It all comes down to sugars. Plants use sunlight to turn water and carbon dioxide into glucose (they do it for food and energy) – and glucose, as every reader will know, is a kind of sugar. The brighter the summer – the more sugars there are. Sunlight and the cool nights of autumn turn this glucose into a red colour. The brown tints that you see in trees like oaks is made from wastes left in the leaves.  As the green fades from the leaves, we begin to see the autumnal colours. These have been there all the time, but we haven’t been able to see them because in summer they are covered by green chlorophyll.  From the copses of Cornwall to the dells of Devon and hillsides of Somerset, South West England is just beginning to turn aflame. Go out and glory in it while the great colour bonanza lasts, is what I say. But perhaps we better leave the last words on the matter to John Keats, who was so moved by autumn he wrote an ode to it: Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

One of the most inspirational people in South West England is Sir Tim Smit… I have no qualms about stating this - I have interviewed Tim a number of times and have always come away energised by what ever it is he’s been talking about. I was interviewing a leading Cornish businessman the other day and he said much the same thing - so when I came home I looked through my files and found the interview below, which I did with Sir Tim a few years ago at a ceremonial occasion when staff at The Lost Gardens of Heligan were celebrating the visitor attraction’s 25th anniversary. If you’ve never been to The Lost Gardens I do recommend a visit - it surely must be one of the most enjoyable gardens open to the public anywhere in Europe. This is the article I wrote after interviewing Sir Tim at the 25th anniversary event…. Movers, shakers, achievers, do-ers, call them what you will… Every community should have one; every office or workplace will know the type; each committee, group, council or company needs one. They’re the people who reach out and get things done, inspire others to do the same, achieve the unachievable, and believe the word “impossible” to be a lie.  The West Country has one such person, and it is not often that you could say that about a single individual operating in a large region like this. He’s called Sir Tim Smit, and everyone from Bristol to Land’s End - and way beyond - will have heard of him. His fame and reputation have mainly been earned through his involvement with Cornwall’s Eden Project and because of his part in helping to transform the Lost Gardens of Heligan from impenetrable thicket into what it is today - i.e. one of the most loved and visited gardens in all the UK.     Most people will have seen Sir Tim on television or heard him on the radio - his languid tones conveying complex and difficult-to-conceive ideas with ease - his slightly rough-edged voice enthusing, haranguing, praising, cajoling and all the other things an ideas-man has to do in order to win his way. Tim Smit is one of those people who has the knack of being able to take something big and impressive - but also amorphous and unwieldy - and mould it into a simple concept that is so wondrous it wins people’s hearts or, at the very least, captures their imaginations.  I’m talking about the sort of thing where a hundred people might say: “Look, we’ve got this fantastic idea - it’s going to require everything from A to Z to be successful - so I’ll take you through all the relevant bullet points…” Instead of this, I can imagine Tim Smit saying something like: “Here’s the rainbow - and what I’m putting in your lap right now is the pot of gold that might be at the end of it.” One reason I can write about Sir Tim like this is because I followed him for a couple of hours this week and watched carefully as he entertained, amused, informed and generally inspired a group of over 100 people. I suppose he was in his element - certainly the Dutchman, who has adopted Cornwall as his home, knew every single inch of the landscapes we were walking though and not of the people in the audience.  For this was the 25th birthday party of the Lost Gardens of Heligan. A quarter century anniversary commemorating the amazing transformation of a corner of Cornwall that was once thicket and is now a famous visitor attraction… The birthday party took the form of a walk with Tim Smit, along with owner John Willis and many others who have worked, slaved, laboured, and generally volunteered for all manner of jobs big and small in what was once an impenetrable jungle.  “Impenetrable is a very good word,” said Sir Tim when we met up for an in-depth interview after the walk. “But actually, for things to have a mystery, they need to be a bit impenetrable don’t they? It sounds like a metaphor for life, but things that are hard work - like discovering something or reading a difficult book - make everything worthwhile.” You see what I mean about selling the pot of god at the rainbow? Sir Tim went on: “I feel so sorry for people who want instant satisfaction. They think they are making themselves happy, but they don’t realise the pleasure of something is there because of the sweat on their brow. So, the obvious question: how did a Dutch bloke who’d been working in the music business end up helping to rescue the well known West Country paradise… “My degree was in anthology and archaeology - I’ve always adored archaeology and still do. By accident I ended up working in the music business - and again through accident I ended up on a whim living in Cornwall. I fell out of love with the music industry but wasn’t sure what to do - then I was given a pig called Horace by a friend called Rob Poole who was running Newquay Zoo. And I just loved that pig. So we found a Doris - and Horace and Doris had lots of babies. And I thought: ‘Great! I want to have a rare breeds farm!’ So that’s how we began.  “Because on my way driving from St Austell to Goran - which is where I lived - there was this bend here on the road, beyond which there was a lot of land which wasn’t being used. I was talking to my mate John Nelson a builder (who has now passed away but was also hugely instrumental in saving Heligan) and he told me the land was owned by John Willis.  “So I came to see him and John gave me a cup of coffee which was far too hot. He told me he’d rented out the land to someone else - but, because I hadn’t even touched my coffee yet, we had to do some small talk. I mentioned I was an archaeologist and he said he’d just inherited the estate next door - and he believed there was an old garden in there: would I like to go in there with him? That’s how it all began.  “So the next day we went in with machetes - and I fell in love with it. I decided I was going to change my career. This was what I was going to do.” Tim Smit drifts easily from fact and story into belief and philosophy mode. And why not? There are a lot of people who are inspired by him.   “The secret… and I say this to young people a lot - the secret is to fall in love with something. Because if you do, at least your body is certain you like it - which means you will be very convincing when you talk to other people. I learned it in the music business: if you love something, you can be certain there will be millions who will feel the same as you. So the only issue is marketing.  “So the moment I fell in love with Heligan I knew there would be millions like me who would find it beguiling. But the issue was: first of all just to pursue it… We didn’t do it because we wanted to open the gardens to the public. We didn’t pursue that. It didn’t work like that. We thought: wouldn’t it be cool to do this! “We didn’t have a business-plan or anything,” said Tim, now swaying back towards Smit philosophy: “People say to be professional you have to have a business-plan, but it would have been bollocks here. So many people wreck their great ideas because they are asked to have a business-plan - but, actually, if they’d just gone for it they would have discovered what they needed to do. Usually those are the things that you wouldn’t have anticipated, so you wouldn’t have put them in your business-plan.”  I put it to him that such a huge and zany project also required a achiever, mover and shaker like him… “I don’t want to be falsely modest - of course it makes a difference if you’ve got someone championing something. But it is amazing what happens to a man if you have fear of total failure. If you start a project and put your name to it you are not going to let it fail - that was certainly a bit of a driver to me.  “But the reason for its success is that, very soon after John and I got to work, people started to volunteer. It was obvious that the garden had some sort of meaning to people. Most so called Great British Gardens are conglomerations of plants in one order or another purely for beauty. What is interesting about Heligan is that it had a network of paths built in the 1780s and it had a shelter belt to protect it - so the gardens were built up over different generations. They therefore have a kind of whacky eccentricity. There is not one thing here that is the best in the country - not one thing - but it is the only garden that has everything.  “You’ve got jungle, subtropical garden, productive gardens - all of which make it really romantic. The human story how we uncovered everything led us to deal with it in a way which, for instance, the National Trust would never do things. Just before we started this garden the National Trust had bulldozed a load of its glasshouses. They basically wanted to show how the upper classes had lived - they weren’t interested in showing how real gardeners had worked. It was a complete betrayal. Outrageous. “So, basically, the working tradition of British horticultural workers was trashed. Heligan was the first place where we started a whole revival. People were shocked. The National Trust couldn’t believe that 300,000 people wanted to see a garden where the central point wasn’t a stately home but the traditions of working people. Actually most of us are working people - we are not lords and ladies.  “And we did it all on a shoestring. John and I restored this entire place on something like half a million quid. The best moment was when we went to Nanpean Chapel where there was an auction and we wanted some pews. John said at the end, ‘What about the floorboards?’ They hadn’t thought about that, so they said ‘100 quid?’ So we bought all the floorboards and joists and managed to restore the whole Melon Garden for a 100 quid. Brilliant!  “If you go into the flower garden where there’s a big vinery with lovely ironwork: some bloke came down from Staffordshire on holiday, saw that we didn’t have that and said, ‘I saved some from a greenhouse about 40 years ago - been in my garage all that time - I’ll give it to you’. And he did.” It wasn’t only hard work and good fortune that helped Heligan succeed. The restoration received massive amounts of publicity, especially on television…  “The TV programmes made a big difference. And it taught me something important - men especially, feel alive when they have an adventure in mind. If you can create a narrative with an adventure in it, you’ll be amazed at how many people will come and join you.” I asked Sir Tim what he’d felt walking around the gardens this week with a large group of people listening to his every word?  “I feel really privileged because having spent time concentrating on Eden, I come back and get the benefit of being a punter as well. It’s the spirit of place. I think there’s something quite womb-like and special about this place - and I love it. And I love the idea of being the steward of it.” Talking about the restoration Sir Tim said there’d been talks about whether or not to leave certain areas wild and un-refurbished: “If you are a traditional head gardener, you cannot leave bits unrestored because it would be an insult to the tradition of keeping those working gardens clean. It would be a pastiche. Philip Macmillan Browse (who was gardening consultant in Heligan’s restoration) was great about that - he said: ‘Do you want to do the whole opera - or do you want to be the greatest hits album?’ “That is why it is genuinely romantic,” shrugged Tim Smit. “I think there is an irony. Faux-romance like Sleeping Beauty is one thing. We had our Sleeping Beauty moment, but basically the restoration means the Frog has been kissed now and turned into the Prince. We have to create a new narrative.”  Fitting words with which to introduce a new role for Heligan which will see it working in conjunction with the Eden Project and Abbey Gardens Tresco to run degree courses for the horticulturalists of the future. If anyone doubts the wisdom of that, let them talk to Sir Tim Smit - he will instantly show them the pot of gold that lies at the end of that potential rainbow.

In 2014 they closed Holsworthy’s old livestock market and opened up a big new auction centre on the outskirts of the ancient town on the Devon-Cornwall border. You have to move with the times, but it was not the most popular of moves at the time - because the old market was much closer to the centre of town and each Wednesday that was reflected in the huge numbers of people who would visit. They’d been doing just that four hundreds of years - and the triangle shaped market square right in the centre of town was always full of stallholders and farming families out for the big day. So I took the opportunity of talking to a few people on the very last day of the old market to capture the mood for an article I wrote for the Western Morning News - which you can see below… But first why not have a listen to the podcast - which I guess is now part of the region’s oral history. "I don't know why they've changed un' - all this is still pretty modern to me - I remember when the market here was just open fields and pens, not all these buildings..." So said 87-year-old farmer John Bowden who was attending the last Holsworthy Livestock Market to take part on the old town site yesterday before the whole agricultural enterprise moves lock, stock, mooing and bleating barrel to the new multi-million pound facility a mile away. Mr Bowden, whose family have farmed at Bridgerule on the Devon- Cornwall county border for five generations, says he will continue attending the new market, but like many among the hundreds who attended the final livestock auction yesterday, Mr Bowden was there primarily to remember past agrarian glories. "I've been coming here since I was a small boy," he told the Western Morning News. "The market is everything - it's where the people who live out in the middle of nowhere come in to civilisation once a week." With that he was off to meet his wife in the Waitrose supermarket which, in future, will be doing commercial battle with a Tesco which is due to be built on the old site along with new homes. Signs of changing times are burgeoning everywhere across the West Country peninsula, but until yesterday the weekly Holsworthy market was one of the few visual, cultural, elements left that firmly connected the 21st Century with pre-medieval times. We must move with the times... If those words could have been heard once in the fried bacon fug of the market cafe yesterday, they could have been heard a thousand times. While so many of the older men and women congregated around the cattle and sheep pens were there to remember, all seemed to agree that it was a good thing that Kivell's, the livestock auctioneers, had put their weight and energy behind the new market with the help of the town council, district authority and other organisations and bodies. But big business was not what yesterday was all about - the smaller commerce of selling a few bullocks here, a few hoggets there and a milking cow or three, provided the main thrust of proceedings. That, and the memories... Graham Jasper, of HR Jasper & Son, Launceston, said his family had been buying sheep at Holsworthy for the past 60 years - and they buy an awful lot of woolly beasts: "Over those years we've bought hundreds of thousands of sheep here - if not millions. We slaughter about 10,000 lambs a week. We sell them right across the country - and send them for export. "West Country agriculture has altered but it's doing pretty well - but I've had plenty of good times here. I remember when Peter Kivell's son (David, now one of the main directors) was born there some cattle down there and when it was put down under the hammer it went down to David Kivell - on the very day he was born." Peter Charles Kivell joined me for a chat with another retired director Arthur Rowland: "I was third generation - my father was pretty active in the business and his father William Thomas started it all in 1885," said Mr Kivell. "They started from very humble beginnings - there were little country markets in every other village - but they gradually closed down and they centralised things here. "It was a two-day market just after the War but eventually with all the restrictions we've had to concentrate just on the one day. When I came out of the Air Force in 1945 I came straight into the business - with not a day off. I had to learn the trade and take some exams, but then I became an assistant to my father.My son David is now over there selling the beef cattle. He's got microphones and computers - we had to rely on a strong voice - didn't we Arthur?" Mr Rowland, who joined the firm in 1955 as a "rock bottom clerk" and worked his way up from there to become a senior partner, told me: "Farmers seemed to have a lot more time when I first started - the cattle market would be absolutely full of people on the Wednesday. They'd all congregate here - meet their pals and have a good old chat - but that seems to have become a bit of a thing of the past now. Everyone's in a hurry... "It was more of a family thing back in those days - the wives would go up the town and the farmers would come down here." "A lot has changed," added Mr Kivell. "But it's still all down to the man with the hammer. It's all about being able to anticipate the bids because you know - through experience - what the thing is worth. If you know roughly what it's worth, you are halfway home. The vendors will have faith in you in fixing a reserve - the buyer will have faith in you because he knows you've got a genuine bid - and the world goes on nice and sweet." "I would certainly agree with all that but I also think it is important that you keep a happy atmosphere going in the sale-ring," smiled Mr Rowland. "Keep things lighthearted and jolly... Because they are the ones parting with the money and we are the ones taking it." "There is a social element - the farmers come in not only to do business but to meet their neighbours - sometimes it's the only time they see them for a week," added Mr Kivell. "Things are going extremely well as you can see by the number of people here today. It will go from strength to strength - we got the tools and we will try and make it work properly." In the dairy cattle sales ring Kivells director Mark Bromell was preparing to put a number of beasts under the hammer: "It's a day of mixed feelings," he told me. "We've got a big future in that wonderful facility up the road - but equally there's over 100 years of history here and I've been coming here ever since I was in a pushchair and all my family before me - so there's a lot of attachments. "We've got one family here today which spans four generations - and there's a lot of people here who will be sad to see the old market go with all its good times and trades. We've built Holsworthy up into one of the biggest dairy livestock markets in the country and we have a very good reputation for farmers' own home bred stock and we have buyers who come from all over the country to buy into that quality. "I've spent many hours of my life standing up there on that rostrum selling cattle - and, yes, when I slam that last hammer down later it is going to be a very strange feeling. We're giving it a miss next week to move into the new place - but we will be selling again on September 3rd." In the market cafe, where these words have been written, hundreds upon hundreds of men and women queued for lunch yesterday - their numbers swelled by entire families who'd brought children along to witness the historic occasion. As a nice, smiling, woman called Margaret clears the remains of one reporter's all day breakfast away she grins the kindliest Devon grin imaginable and tells me: "Yes, we are busier than usual - a lot busier - but it is is an occasion isn't it? Sad. But then, things must move on." And in those last four words she effectively sums up the closing of one big valuable chapter in the West Country's long, green, rustic, rural, agricultural, enviable, colourful, wonderful, history.

For some reason a recent conversation turned to the subject of BBQ huts - and what a rather jolly and soiable idera they are - although I’m not sure I’d risk one even with all the windows all open given the contagious nature of the new variant of Covid 19. Anyway, BBQ huts are good fun - and if I could afford one, I might be tempted to have on in the garden. I do know a bit about them having once spent a boozy night in one high above Andermatt in the Swiss Alps. We went up to the BBQ zone on a train - climbing out at a small empty station halfway up the mountain at a place called Nätschen. It was freezing outside, but someone had lit wood fires in fire-pits, so we kept as warm as we could - enjoying cocktails while watching the sun go down high in the mountains. Then indoors we went - into the surprisingly roomy BBQ hut - only to be handed various edible morsels wrapped in silver foil. Beef steak, pork chops, sausages… You name it the Swiss had prepared it for us - all we each had to do was cook our own supper over the live flames - which were turning the whole palce into such an oven we had to open the windows to let the cold air in. It was tremendous fun and I remember feeling very full indeed when we at last staggered out into the dark mountain night. Thanks to the booze and food we were all feeling rather humb - which was just as well as we were sledging down the zig-zag route - which is a road in summer time - all the way back to town. It seemed like miles down that icy descent - and we all went as fast as we dared - which probably wasn’t very fast but seemed like a 100 miles per hour in the icy darkness. I recall there was particularly steep slope right down at the bottom as the sledging route left the road and plummeted into the midst of some kind park park - and I hurtled down this slope only to be thrown high into the air by large ruts in the snow right down at the bottom. Crash! I thudded into an icy bank and for a moment thought I’d broken my back. Luckily I woke up the next morning none the worse for wear - but I guess a 60-year-old was pushing his luck a bit going so fast down that mountain sledge-run in the dark.

On this really cold grey day when the weather outside if foggier and more rainy than anything I’ve seen so far this winter, it’s no wonder the mind returns to warm places in the sun. One of my favourite trips on the island of St Lucia in the Caribbean was a hot morning’s walk into the rain forest, high in the island’s vast and mountainous interior. Our Rastafarian guide was a kind of cheerful and laid back Caribbean version of Ray Mears – he knew every tree in the jungle and was able to expound upon medical and other virtues of various barks, roots and crushed leaves. Eventually our progress became too slow for the likes of a country boy me (I was with some other journalists, more used to desks than crags) and, having been given permission by the guide to forge on ahead, I set off for what was to be one of the most memorable walks of my life.  Being alone in virgin rainforest is an exhilarating experience, quite unlike anything you can enjoy in our northern climes. Under the canopy it is dark and in truth there’s not much to see – but the noise of the place, the bitter earthy scents and the general ambiance - all combine to make you feel very much alive and alone. What you mustn’t do is dwell upon thoughts of boa constrictors or the guide’s advice on what to do if one should take a liking to you. The walk ended at one of the many tall waterfalls which punctuate the island precipitous interior. Our arrival coincided with a severe but hot and steamy tropical rainstorm and it didn’t seem to matter a jot if we immersed ourselves under the falls fully clothed.

I’ve put together the podcast which you'll see below to give readers some idea of the very special Cornish place we’re talking about here… The podcast also includes an interview with Christine Gendall - a retired local health worker - who’s great love of the area is detailed below… There’s another kind of SSSI – ecologists and environmentalists have their Sites of Special Scientific Interest but 15 years ago I invented another type while writing a series of articles for a newspaper. They were called Sites of Special Sentimental Interest. Just about everyone has his or her very own special place and the series set out to explore the singular, exceptional, outstanding, fascinating and lovely locations that readers wrote in to suggest.  The point of the series, as the name suggested, was that each Site of Special Sentimental Interest will have a story behind it that strongly connects the location with the person who has suggested it – for whatever reason. It could be that your ancestors have come from the place for generations, so that the very rock and soil upon which it stands seems to line your veins. It maybe that something wonderful and exceptional happened to you in that location – perhaps the very last time you saw your Spitfire-flying fiancée was on the cliffs above Salcombe – to manufacture a somewhat overly romantic example… Perhaps there’s something in the place that grasped your imagination – a rare butterfly or plant, for instance, that you have spent years helping to conserve. It could be that you are a painter or a poet who has become obsessed with just one amazing setting - painting it or writing about it time and again.  Then again, you may be a business person who has some particular site to thank for your success – or, conversely, some grim tragedy may have happened to you or your family there.  It really doesn’t matter where the place is as long as it is within the peninsula or has some very strong link to it – nor does the actual reason for choosing it matter as long as it is a real story and not just because: “We happen to like it there.” The idea was inadvertently given to me by a Western Morning News reader called Christine Gendall from West Cornwall. Christine told me she was involved with nursing all her life, rising through the ranks to become a well known Sister down in Penwith – but it’s a wonderful little book that she’d written in aid of the St Julia’s Hospice Fund that really grabbed my attention. In my West Country Walks column I had admitted to being a little mystified about certain aspects of the wonderful, little known, rarely visited and enigmatic fishing cove called Porthgwarra tucked just around the corner from Land’s End. Christine had all the answers at hand – in her book named Porthgwarra, which is a slim but fascinating volume that describes the remote community in great detail. In the very first sentence of her introduction, Christine writes: “Many people have a special place which they yearn to revisit and I am attracted back to west Cornwall’s Porthgwarra – a haunt of my childhood.” Somehow those simple words written by a woman who has worked with so many poor patients preparing to leave this wonderful life of ours – lying there ill and dying, perhaps, in a hospice and no longer able to visit their special place even one last time - hit a nerve with me.   Most of us do have a special place. When we are troubled or ill, lonely or depressed – or even overjoyed by excitement and change in our lives – these are the places which we may fleetingly visit in our mind’s eye. They are the rocks up which our mental houses stand – the unshifting locations that will be there long, long after we’ve quit this mortal coil. Which is, I guess, why so many people wish for their ashes to be scattered somewhere special after they’ve gone. But let’s not be morbid or maudlin about this – our Sites of Special Sentimental Interest are nothing if they are not flagships for positive thinking, pure enjoyment and harbingers of wellbeing.  If you closed your eyes and tried to dream up the perfect Cornish fishing cove, the resultant image would probably look a bit like Porthgwarra. The shallow sheltered valley dips from the high fields and moors taking with it a stream, accompanied by all manner of bird-filled thickets surrounded by wild flowers. Up at the higher reaches, ancient farmsteads lurk as if they’ve been here since the very granite rock itself was born, but lower down there’s a scattering of cottages old and not so old – with the odd 1920s shack thrown in for romantic measure – one of which is now the hamlet’s shop. This attractively cluttered, secluded and protected vale eventually terminates at the cove itself – but it’s not a simple meeting of rock and wave. The soft, partly decomposed granite has been eaten away in different chunks so that a mini-headland exists plonk in the middle of the cove. An old stone slipway stretches down to the sand on one side, but on the other access can be gained through a rough hewn tunnel, carved many years ago by local miners to help farmers glean seaweed from the beach.  This somewhat cluttered indentation of the littoral has a strange picturesque quality that creates a romance all of its own. The various tunnels carved here and there in the soft rock suggest an age of swashbuckle and smuggling, though most were dug and blasted for prosaic workaday reasons. But there’s something extra wild about that sea out here in the far west. It may be a mere nuance born of a journalist’s fancy – but I’d swear it looks more angry and potentially more perilous than elsewhere. After all, England’s ultimate corner lies just two miles around past nearby Gwennap Head. And just offshore there’s the clanging buoy that marks the dreaded Runnel Stone – a needle that has taken countless mariners to a watery grave.  There’s even a perpetual seal lurking in the cove at Porthgwarra, as if to remind visitors that they really are halfway to a world that is more sea-salt and wave than rock and soil. And the day we were there a huge basking shark swam on by heading for goodness knows what salty domain – its big dorsal fin and tail flapping lazily and ominously in the west wind.  Christine Gendall looks around at all this with a discernible glint of passion and belonging in her eye. To spend an hour with someone like Christine in such a place, is to know what this series is all about – and to know how important it is that we create such a body of work in a regional newspaper. Imagine the oldest, most comfortable, and favourite coat you’ve ever owned and you may get just an inkling how someone like Christine can be so entirely enwrapped and mentally swathed by such a loved and intimate environment.  For such people, these special places – these sites of special sentimental interest – are not so much made of clay and stone, they are the very embroidery that creates a vibrant, vital, backdrop to life.   “There was talk when I was younger that I should move from Cornwall and get on with some bigger more important sort of career,” Christine told me at one point during our day together out there on the western tip of this peninsula. “But I never have. Never wanted to. I could never think of living anywhere else but here in West Cornwall.” Christine’s career flourished anyway – and she became a well known nursing sister working within the West Penwith community. But it is the parish of St Levan in general and Porthgwarra in particular for which she reserves a very special kind of love. Since retiring from the health service she has written two books about the area – Porthgwarra (the fascinating little tome which inspired this series) and more latterly Soil and Toil – A look at working lives in St Levan in the past.    “I wrote the Porthgwarra book a few years ago,” she told me as we sat on the steep slipway. “I read in a magazine that they wanted articles about Cornwall and I sent in one which was accepted - and they wanted some more. My mother said, ‘I'm sure you could write a book Christine’. “She was ill with cancer at the time and I started writing this book and read it to her chapter by chapter as I wrote it - but unfortunately she died before I had the book published. It’s sort of in her memory. “It’s been interesting because my father had written some notes when he was older and not very mobile,” she went on. “We found he had written notes about his early life and some of the occurrences here in Porthgwarra - shipwrecks and his early life - and so I had something to start from. “And we had a mass of old photographs because his grandfather had his picture taken several times by a photographer called Hawk who was coming around taking photos in the area - and he looked such a traditional Cornish fishermen - those photos are actually still at the Truro Museum.  “I was a Harvey before I was married,” Christine told me when I asked why this place in particular had such hold over her. “I was born just a mile or so up the road, but my grandmother lived here in Porthgwarra and I used to come here as a child. Both her family and her husband’s family were born in cottages in the little hamlet – so it’s the family connections and the beauty of the place… “It just is such a special place to me. I like coming back on a quiet day and sitting here and you can just imagine what life was like in those days… “The original Jackson, William Jackson, came there (to Penberth just along the coast) as a coastguard and he had quite a large family who started fishing at Penberth - and we think they may have fallen out with the other fishermen about shares of a seine net. “So the Jacksons decided to come to Porthgwarra where there were only five cottages at the time – the Harveys were already here and the Rowe’s - but the Jacksons built some of the cottages we’ve seen today. “They were quite a large family and they had a number of children each and so it was virtually a Jackson-Harvey cove,” smiles Christine. “When I was ten my grandmother moved up the road to live next to us, but until then I’d come to stay here at Porthgwarra at weekends and for my holidays and often in school holidays mum would make pasties and we would come down at lunchtime and stay down for the day.” You can see why writing a book about her beloved Porthgwarra was a work of some passion for Christine. And it is a most fascinating read – for example, she originally contacted me to put me right about the strange tunnels which are, as I’ve mentioned, a feature of the cove.  “The tunnel was primarily built (by St Just miners) to improve beach access for the local farmers,” wrote Christine. “They would collect and remove seaweed for use as fertiliser on their potato crops. Mrs Nancy Trewern told me that the fairly steep tunnel floor was slippery for the farmer’s horses pulling the seaweed laden carts – she remembers all the frantic activity and effort involved with the farmers persuading the horses up.” Such is the stuff of real, living, history. There was some swashbuckle back in days of yore, but there was a lot more hard work, hardship and sweat.  The book even describes how Porthgwarra’s main tunnel was in fact two different apertures in a figure-of-8 until the intervening floor collapsed – which may or may not have happened during the Mount’s Bay earth tremor of 1998.  Adorned with lots of old black and white photographs, the book goes on to describe the astonishing industry created by the hamlet’s long lost seine-net fishery and goes into some detail about how they used to salt and cure the pilchards that were brought in by the ton. There’s fascinating material on local shipwrecks and tragedies – plus a section on the much feared Runnel Stone which became just a little bit less feared after a steamer called The City of Westminster rammed the submerged pinnacle in 1923 knocking off its top 20 feet. Sit in Porthgwarra on a quiet autumnal day now and it is difficult to imagine all the teeming salty maritime life that once went on here. Only one fisherman keeps a boat in the cove now and he told me he’s giving up because of some mysterious skin rash that locals get after 25 years lobster-potting in these waters.  “They each had large families,” shrugged Christine talking of the Jackson family who built many of the cottages in the hamlet. “Now there are only two houses in the cove that are lived in all year round - the rest are holiday cottages.” At least the visitors buy her book, which is very good news for the local hospice movement. “The book has gone to a reprint and £1 from every sale goes to Cornwall Hospice Care which runs the two hospices in Cornwall,” Christine told me. “I do a lot of fundraising for them – and so far we’ve raised over £1000 by the sale of these books.” For that reason alone it’s worth visiting www.porthgwarrashop.co.uk or emailing sales@porthgwarrashop.co.uk to order a copy – but the bonus is that by reading the book you will learn a great deal more about Porthgwarra, which no one will deny is a very special place indeed.   We stayed at Cove Cottage which is owned and run by St Aubyn Estates https://www.staubynestatescottages.co.uk/ Sidebar As we walked around Porthgwarra so Christine shared her memories of the remarkable community: “Cove Cottage here is now just one property – but it used to be two. My great-grandparents lived there but great-grandfather died when he was 33 and left his wife with seven children to bring up. “And this is where she raised those seven in the 1890s – she lived 60 years as a widow - she died when she was 93 when I was about nine, and I remember her dressed in old fashioned dark clothing.  “She didn’t actually keep them all at home all the time,” she said of the children. “One went up to the farm at the top to live with his grandparents, another went to live with an aunt, so the family helped her out. And she started work - because the Cable and Wireless (Company) had started over in Porthcurno and had a lot of students - she was actually a laundress and she used to launder the shirts and stiff collars for them, carrying it over a mile-and-a-half over the cliffs to Porthcurno.

The Cornish coffee scene has a new champion, and it’s one that’s roasting, pouring, and proving its worth on the national stage. Dark Pony Coffee , tucked away in the heart of Falmouth, has just been named one of the 44 Greatest Coffee Shops in Britain  by Time Out . In a significant coup for the West Country, the Falmouth roastery and cafe has earned the distinction of being the only establishment in Cornwall or Devon  to make the prestigious 2026 list. The Rigorous Road to the Top Being named among the UK’s elite isn't just about a good latte art heart. Dark Pony was judged against a demanding set of criteria that separates the "good" from the "world-class": The Roast:  Barista expertise and the sheer quality of the bean. The Vibe:  Ambiance, community spirit, and consistent innovation. The Ethics:  Sustainable practices and support for global producers. The Extras:  High-quality food, pastries, and top-tier customer service. From Passion Project to National Recognition Founded in May 2022 by friends Mael, Grace, and Jacob, Dark Pony was born from a shared obsession with the perfect cup. Unlike many cafes that simply buy in their supply, this trio does it all. From sourcing and roasting to packaging and distributing, the entire process happens in-house right here in Cornwall. "Our vision for Dark Pony has always been to make the world of specialty coffee fun and inclusive to all," says Co-Director Mael . "To be recognised amongst some of the fantastic coffee shops on this list is a great honour and we are incredibly proud to represent Falmouth." Whether you are a coffee aficionado or just looking for a welcoming neighbourhood spot on The Moor, Dark Pony is proving that Cornish craft can compete with the very best the UK has to offer. For more information or to try their award-winning roasts, visit darkponycoffee.com .

Escaping the Winter "Meat-Fatigue" with Simple, Sunny Plant-Life Turkey, beef, pork, lamb, chicken, ham (both home-cooked and Iberico), and tongue—not to mention numerous sausages, bacon, and a few other carnivorous delights! After indulging in all that last month, I thought it was time to write about vegetarian food. Somehow, my body is now crying out for something light, easy-going, and easy to digest: a bit of plant-life. The Seasonal Dilemma Of course, it would be much easier in summer. Imagine whacking great big salads filled to the brim with nourishment from the garden! That's exactly what I would eat by choice right now. Sure, I could pop into a supermarket and grab some ready-picked salad leaves, a few greenhouse tomatoes, a cucumber, and a pepper or two. But I, like many others, have a thing about seasonal eating. I’m not religious about it, mind you. I’ll happily drizzle extra-virgin olive oil over a bowl of Canary Island tomatoes—especially if I can add a handful of the herbs that still bravely grow in my garden. Still, it seems to miss the point. All those un-ecological food miles that the tomatoes have flown, and all those poly-tunnels where artificial fertilisers are used with enthusiastic abandon… Having once over-wintered near Motril on the Costa de Sol, I know what goes into the average Spanish iceberg lettuce. Not a single crunchy but tasteless leaf of that stuff has passed my lips since! The Magic of the Dried Bean The sunshine taste of the Mediterranean can be enjoyed, however, with the help of a pulse or two. The secret is to get your act together and give your hardened dried vegetable jewels a plunge in water the day before you intend to eat them. Or, if you're in a rush, you can buy them in a can! What could be more instantaneous than a simple salad made of cannellini beans , sliced red onion, and a hefty sprinkling of parsley? Martin’s Tip: If using dried beans, pour on extra virgin olive oil just after you have drained them while they are still warm. This prevents sticking and heightens the flavour of the eventual vinaigrette. Three Simple "Sunshine" Dishes 1. The Piquant Bean Salad To your cooked beans, add a substantial vinaigrette made from the best extra virgin olive oil you can afford, lemon juice, and a spoonful of French mustard. Add a Kick: Throw in finely chopped chillies and sun-dried tomatoes. The Umami Twist: Add half a clove of garlic with some anchovies crushed in a pestle and mortar. Make it a Meal: Add a couple of cans of tuna fish to feed a crowd for under two quid! 2. Moroccan Chickpea & Fish Tagine Chickpeas are remarkably adaptable. For a warming fish tagine , you'll need: 1kg of fresh white fish (locally caught is best). Garlic, paprika, ground cumin, and chilli pepper. Pre-soaked and boiled chickpeas. Simmer the fish and spices in olive oil for 30 minutes. Then, add the chickpeas with a little of their cooking water and simmer for another 10 minutes. It’s exotic, warming, and brightens even the coldest February day. 3. Sicilian Puy Lentils with Spaghetti Lentils are the "food of paupers" with the flavour of kings. My favourite way to serve Puy Lentils was taught to me by a Sicilian friend: Boil Puy lentils until al-dente. Fry garlic and onions in olive oil until soft. Break spaghetti into inch-long sticks, boil, and drain. Combine everything in a large bowl with copious amounts of top-quality olive oil, sea salt, and cracked black pepper. Saving the "Poor Old Body" Dried pulses rate as one of the most inexpensive foodstuffs you can purchase. If you have an electronic Instant Pot , they don’t even take much energy to cook—reducing chickpea cooking time from 90 minutes to just 30. I, for one, will be taking the simple, sunny, healthy Mediterranean route to cooking in the next few weeks. It’s the best way to save the poor old body from the heavier excesses of midwinter. Editor’s Choice: More Healthy Winter Inspiration If you enjoyed these Mediterranean ideas, you might also like these recipes and tips from the archive: Chickpea and Spinach Curry : A grounding, spiced dish perfect for supporting gut health after the festive period. Healthy Winter Recipes & January Wellness Tips : More ideas for using woks, winter walks, and real food to beat the "sluggish" midwinter feeling. The Secret to Real Moroccan Flavours : A deeper look at the spices and techniques that make a tagine sing. Warm Winter Meals with a Mediterranean Twist : Why the "sunshine taste" of pulses is the best way to bridge the gap until spring.

Rediscovering Old Friends and New Adventures in South Devon Social media has many downsides but one useful role it plays is in allowing users to keep up with old friends. Occasionally their posts can surprise and delight you - which is what happened recently when I saw an Instagram photo and note from an old colleague saying: “Really enjoying life - wish I’d done this years ago.” The photograph showed a lovely waterside inn, tucked away deep in the South Devon countryside - and what Andy Cooper seemed to be saying was that he wished he’d stopped being a successful newspaper and magazine editor years ago to take on the management of a pub. It seemed to me the one-time editor of the North Devon Journal and group-editor of a large stable of county magazines had done a kind of poacher-turned-gamekeeper act. As editor-in-chief of numerous lifestyle magazines, I knew Andy must have stayed in literally hundreds of lovely pubs, hotels and other hostelries down the years, so the idea of him actually running one really did come as a surprise. A Warm Welcome at The Maltsters Arms , Tuckenhay “I am absolutely loving it!” he replied, when I messaged him. “Why not come down to The Maltsters at Tuckenhay and sample the delights of the place for yourself…” No need to ask twice. I knew The Maltsters from years ago when I went down to Tuckenhay - a tiny village on the banks of Bow Creek on the tidal River Dart - to sample its delights when it was owned by a man called Keith Floyd. Yes, that Keith Floyd. The man from Wiveliscombe who did so much to revolutionise cookery programmes on television. The TV chef who used to bark orders at the cameraman while slurping glasses of wine over steaming pots in wild, exotic and often unlikely places. Alas Keith, having enjoyed something of a late night, was apparently feeling a little under the weather the day I visited - so I didn’t get to sample the joys of the pub back then, but instead contented myself with the fabulous local walk which I’ve outlined in the panel. A Return Visit to a Devon Riverside Gem This time, however, I did get to wallow in the joys of The Maltsters Arms . My wife and I spent a wonderful afternoon and night there. We did the local walk, met the very friendly new owners, were treated to a very good dinner, slept in a room with views over the creek, and were sent off the next morning replete and extremely happy after an excellent breakfast, with a very un-Floyd-like spring in our step. It is a wonderful old inn and I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a luxurious bolthole that’s just a little different, set in the most gorgeous countryside imaginable. A Pub with Heart, Character and Real Devon Warmth And yes, I say that knowing readers might suspect I am bound to be nice, given that the new general-manager, Mr Cooper, is an old mate. All I can say to that is he knows the game - having reviewed literally hundreds of hostelries himself as a journalist, he knows there is no hiding place. If The Maltsters, or any other establishment, was rubbish - and the likes of either him or me were to go into print saying the place was fantastic - our readers would soon know about it and our reputations would be in tatters. So I have no problem with going on the record and saying I believe The Maltsters to be an excellent getaway venue. One of those hidey-holes that is just right for a romantic weekend, for example. Tucked away in Tuckenhay. Can’t think of anything better. Great food, excellent beer and wine, and a lovely room with a very comfortable bed overlooking what is an incredibly peaceful and out-of-the-way creek. And what I haven’t mentioned yet for fear of embarrassing the man, is the warm and friendly vibe around the place. Which I put down to Andy’s influence. Because he has stayed in so many hostelries in this country and abroad, I can only imagine Mr Cooper really does know what is needed. Nothing too posh or exclusive - nothing too matey and, well, Keith Floyd-ish - just an atmosphere that seems to say… “Wonderful! You’ve found us down all these windy Devon lanes - now sit back, relax and enjoy every stress-free minute of your stay.” Just what the doctor ordered. Which is why I’m looking forward to a return visit - next time with a boat ride down Bow Creek to the main River Dart thrown in for good measure. The Maltsters Arms: From Devon’s Maritime Past to Today’s Riverside Retreat The old pub was originally a pair of cottages, constructed in the early 19th century when Tuckenhay quay was bustling with commercial activity. Various local commodities such as lime, corn, paper, cider and malt were transported by ship from the hamlet and by the mid 1800s cider and malting barley for beer-making were produced on the quayside. William Manning and John Earle owned a cider works here and the Maltsters Arms was named after Thomas Edmond’s malthouse. Trade continued to flourish right up until the beginning World War Two. It is hard to believe now when you see just how peaceful the creek is, but in 1939 the last large ship to arrive at the quayside directly in front of the pub was the 240 ton coaster, Reedness. How did she get up to this remote place? That’s what I found myself asking, looking around at the silent tree-lined shores which now play host only to egrets and herons. Well, they used to dredge Bow Creek - and this continued after the war because they kept making a great deal of cider up at Tuckenhay. The barrels were still taken away down-river, but now on much smaller barges. Once dredging ceased, however, the creek silted up to some degree making it navigable only by the smaller boats that visit today. And here is a fact about Tuckenhay that might have you checking the history books. I am reliably told that this out-of-the-way hamlet was illuminated by the first municipal gas lighting in the world. It was 1806, and they had it here before it was introduced to London or Manchester! You can see the original gas engine-house just 200 yards up the road from the pub. You can imagine the local smuggling fraternity wasn’t best pleased. Apparently quite a bit of smuggling went on up here in the privacy and seclusion of the upper reaches of the Dart. Not after the gleam of the gas-light, it didn’t. Inside The Maltsters Arms Today “These days we’re proud to be the hub of the village,” smiles Andy. “The owners Matt Clark and Erin Allgrove only took over this spring and already the place has built a big following. Matt ran various other well-known watering holes in the South West, including the popular Rising Sun at Lynmouth. Now people are finding that it’s well worth navigating down the Devon lanes or up Bow Creek to find a very special pub in such a stunning location. “Roasts and board games by the fire in the winter and Pimms and barbecues on the quayside in the summer…. There's a good choice of real ales to accompany our fantastic menus which always include fresh local fish,” says Andy. “Regulars love our events like the open mic nights, quiz nights, pie and curry nights and our beer and oyster festival. “Our six beautiful en-suite riverside rooms are proving very popular and people come up river to moor on our quayside and make the most of our water supply and three-phase electricity.” I couldn’t put it better myself, Andy. And hats off to you old mate for finding there is a life after journalism. A real-life Mr Polly, if you’ve ever read HG Well’s wonderful novel of that name. The Maltsters Arms, Tuckenhay, Devon TQ9 7EQ Sidebar: Pubs and Publishing – The Story Behind Bosun Bob As mentioned in the main article, I was speaking to one of the new owners of The Maltsters and she surprised me by divulging that she has recently set up her own book publishing company. One reason for doing such a thing is that Erin Allgrove has written a couple of excellent children’s books which feature fabulous illustrations. Bosun Bob, The Salty Old Sea Dog (published last year) and Bosun Bob And The Cat With No Name (published this year) have quickly become popular with young readers, as well as parents and grandparents. Erin’s style is timeless and little nostalgic. She wrote the first book while living onboard her yacht Rocket and sailing from Exmouth to Croatia and back with her family and dog Bob. Her love of sailing and books was inspired by her dad, also called Bob, who shared his love of boats and reading with Erin. Before becoming a writer she had a successful career in marketing and public relations working in a variety of sectors including film and TV, higher education and healthcare. All a long way from her present twin occupations of writing children’s books and helping to run a pub. “I am passionate about children’s literacy and we support schools, bookshops, literary events and arts festivals whenever we can,” she told me. “I love meeting young readers and engaging in conversations about the books that they love. Bosun Bob is available via Gardners and directly through Langrove Publishing as well as through bookshops, Waterstones and Amazon.

Beat the Heat: 4 Refreshing West Country Hikes for Summer Days Devon's South East Coast During the two decades I spent writing a weekly walks column, the most common question from readers was: “What’s your favourite hike?” It is a question impossible to answer. This region boasts some of the finest walking routes in Europe; picking just one would be like naming a single favourite piece of music. There is simply an embarrassment of riches. The second most frequent query concerned the weather. In a region that protrudes into a giant ocean, we see a lot of it. We often quote Alfred Wainwright’s famous line: “There is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.” While true for rain and wind, Wainwright (who died in 1991) might not have been quite so au fait  with the modern heatwave. You can buy gear for ice and rain, but on a humid, sweltering day, the only real remedy is to choose the right location . In the South West, these cooling sanctuaries fall into four categories: The Airy Ridge Ramble The Coastal Ridge Ramble The Coastal Clamber with Shade The Deep, Cool Forest Foray 1. Airy Ridge Rambles: The Quantock Hills All uplands are cooler than lowlands, but in a heatwave, the centre of a large plateau like Dartmoor  can feel stifling. Ridges are the "premium zone" because they attract breezes from all angles. The best of them all is the Quantock Hills National Landscape  (formerly AONB). This massive ridge marches from Taunton toward the Bristol Channel. Beech trees on the Quantocks The Route:  Start at the Staple Plain car park  above St Audries. Follow the ancient track to Beacon Hill  for panoramic views that inspired Coleridge. The Return:  Walk the "Great Road" toward Thorncombe Barrow . You can loop back via the beautiful Bicknoller Combe  or visit the village of Bicknoller  itself. High above Bicknoller 2. Coastal Ridge Rambles: Brean Down On a coastal ridge, the sea bounces light back at you—a "double sunshine whammy"—so a hat is essential. However, the exposure provides a constant, refreshing maritime draft. Brean Down  is essentially the most westerly ridge of the Mendip Hills , separated by the River Axe. This 3.5-mile return walk from Brean offers extraordinary views, Roman temple ruins, and Iron Age hillforts. Inland end of Brean Down 3. Coastal Clamber with Shade: Combe Martin to Ilfracombe While most coasts are treeless due to salt-laden winds, the stretch of the South West Coast Path  between Combe Martin  and Ilfracombe  offers rare, elegant tunnels of beech trees. Highlights:  Look out for Golden Cove , Egg Rock , and the fjord-like inlet of Watermouth . Top Tip:  This is a one-way hike. In a sweltering afternoon, you’ll be glad to catch the bus back from Ilfracombe! Ilfracombe Harbour 4. Cool Woodland Walks: Cotehele and the Tamar Valley When the sun is truly punishing, head for the deep, "sylvan" shade of the Tamar Valley . Cotehele  sits on the Cornish bank and offers both forest canopy and the cooling influence of the river. The Walk:  From the National Trust car park, descend to Cotehele Quay . Cross into Elbow Wood  and Comfort Wood . History:  You’ll pass historic lime kilns, old mines, and a renovated paper mill, all while staying tucked under a green umbrella of leaves. Down at the quay at Cotehele

Travelling with a newborn is a unique paradox. Your baby is small enough to fit comfortably in a bassinet. Yet, they are demanding enough to require a logistics plan complex enough to challenge even the most organised parent. Beyond the obvious task of packing extra onesies, traveling with a newborn hides deeper challenges. The biological impact of infant jet lag can disrupt routines. Meanwhile, navigating an unfamiliar healthcare system adds psychological stress, especially when adrenaline is already running high. In this article, we’ll explore the often-overlooked challenges that new parents encounter and provide insights to help them prepare with confidence, flexibility, and calm. Navigating Long Flights and Disrupted Sleep Schedules Long-haul flights can disrupt a newborn’s sleep, causing fussiness and parental exhaustion. Crossing time zones worsens adjustment, as infants lack a fully developed circadian rhythm. Parents often face fragmented rest and increasing stress. Planning feedings around takeoff and landing, keeping familiar sleep cues, and allowing recovery time can help ease these challenges. According to the Raising Children Network, newborns typically sleep 14–17 hours daily, though only in short 2–3 hour bursts. On flights, cabin pressure, noise, and constant lighting frequently disrupt their 40-minute sleep cycles. These environmental stressors make maintaining a natural rhythm nearly impossible, intensifying the challenge of long-haul travel. Health Risks Parents Rarely Anticipate While Traveling International travel exposes newborns to health risks that parents often overlook. Climate, altitude, and air quality changes can impact breathing and hydration, while crowded airports increase infection risk. Limited access to familiar medical care adds stress. Preparing medical documents, vaccinations, and emergency plans helps parents manage these challenges effectively. The CDC notes that while air travel is generally safe, infants with chronic heart or lung conditions face hypoxia risks during flight. To combat painful ear pressure changes during descent, babies should nurse or use a bottle to encourage swallowing. These physiological stressors represent critical health considerations often overlooked by traveling parents. Feeding Concerns and Infant Nutrition Feeding a newborn abroad presents challenges that parents often underestimate. Formula availability can vary widely by country, and ingredient standards, labeling practices, and fortification requirements may differ from those at home. This creates uncertainty about safety, preparation instructions, and potential allergens. Awareness of infant health risks has increased, especially regarding necrotising enterocolitis (NEC), a severe intestinal condition in newborns. In recent years, NEC lawsuits have drawn attention to potential links between some baby formulas and NEC. This has led parents to examine formula ingredients more carefully. TorHoerman Law notes that some infants diagnosed with NEC recover after intensive treatment. Unfortunately, others may experience permanent complications or, in severe cases, pass away. Using a trusted formula, clean water, and pediatric guidance helps protect infant nutrition during travel. Managing Emergencies Far From Home Medical emergencies are especially stressful when traveling abroad with a newborn. Language barriers and unfamiliar healthcare systems can delay urgent care. Infants are vulnerable to issues like high fever, dehydration, or breathing problems. Carrying medical records, arranging travel insurance, and knowing local hospitals and emergency numbers improve response and outcomes. According to Canadian authorities, parents should consult their healthcare provider or a travel health clinic well before traveling. Ideally, this should be done at least six weeks in advance. Early consultation helps identify potential health risks, ensure necessary vaccinations, and prepare for emergencies while abroad, improving safety for newborns. Emotional and Mental Strain on Parents Traveling internationally with a newborn can create significant emotional and mental strain for parents. Constant vigilance over the infant’s needs, disrupted sleep, and worries about illness often increase anxiety. Being in unfamiliar environments amplifies stress, making even routine tasks feel overwhelming. Support and planning are essential to manage these pressures effectively. Feelings of isolation may intensify when support systems are far away, and communication barriers exist. Managing logistics while meeting an infant’s needs often leads to emotional exhaustion. Acknowledging challenges, setting realistic expectations, and prioritizing rest and emotional support help parents maintain mental well-being while traveling abroad. Preparing More Thoughtfully for Future Travel Thoughtful preparation can ease the challenges of traveling abroad with a newborn. Researching healthcare access, understanding local health risks, and packing essential supplies are crucial. Aligning flights with sleep patterns, allowing recovery days, and using infant-friendly accommodations reduces strain. Advance planning and flexibility help parents travel with confidence and peace of mind. The New York Post reports that six in ten parents find traveling with children the most stressful part of the holiday season. Planning ahead can reduce this stress. Thoughtful preparation, including scheduling around routines and anticipating potential challenges, helps make future travel smoother and more enjoyable. Frequently Asked Questions How can parents reduce stress while traveling with a newborn? Parents can reduce stress by following their newborn’s routine and packing familiar comfort items. Allowing extra time for rest and recovery also helps. Flexible itineraries, preparing medical needs in advance, and setting realistic expectations keep parents calm and confident during travel. What documents are required for newborns traveling abroad? Newborns traveling abroad typically require a valid passport, a visa if applicable, and a birth certificate. Some countries also request a consent letter from parents, vaccination records, or proof of guardianship. Parents should check destination-specific entry requirements well in advance to avoid travel delays. What travel destinations are considered more newborn-friendly? Destinations like Tuscany, Florence, Portugal’s Algarve, and Cancun are easier for parents with newborns due to stroller-friendly streets and calm beaches. Cities such as Kyoto and Vancouver offer clean infrastructure and family amenities. Baby-friendly regions provide services and activities that reduce parental travel stress. Travelling With Awareness, Not Illusion Traveling abroad with a newborn is often seen as a joyful first adventure, yet it comes with challenges requiring patience, preparation, and emotional resilience. Health risks, feeding concerns, disrupted routines, and parental stress are common hidden hurdles. Thoughtful planning, realistic expectations, and informed decisions help parents navigate travel confidently. Understanding these challenges in advance doesn’t diminish the experience. Instead, it empowers families to travel safely, calmly, and with greater peace of mind. Disclaimer: This contributed article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical or legal advice. Always consult with a professional regarding your child’s health.