Introduction: Autostadt in Wolfsburg , Germany, is a must-visit destination for car enthusiasts and families alike. This exceptional automotive theme park offers a glimpse into the world of Volkswagen and its subsidiary brands, combining entertainment, education, and innovation in one spectacular venue. From car museums to driving experiences, Autostadt is a one-of-a-kind adventure which petrol-heads will not want to miss. In this article, we'll take you on a virtual tour of the park and showcase some of its most captivating features. Autostadt's Eye-Catching Architecture and Landscaping The Autostadt complex is a masterpiece of modern architecture, featuring stunning glass pavilions and lush green landscapes. Marvel at the Car Towers, two futuristic, high-rise glass structures housing hundreds of new cars. You can witness the fascinating process of automated car retrieval and delivery, a testament to cutting-edge technology. The Volkswagen Group Forum - A World of Automotive Innovation The Volkswagen Group Forum is Autostadt's heart, where visitors can explore various exhibits dedicated to Volkswagen's subsidiary brands. Discover the history, design, and technological advancements of Audi, SEAT, Škoda, Lamborghini, Porsche, Bentley, and Bugatti. Each brand pavilion showcases interactive displays, allowing you to learn about the car manufacturing process and the latest trends in sustainable mobility. The ZeitHaus Museum - A Journey Through Automotive History The ZeitHaus Museum, Autostadt's most visited attraction, is a must-see for any car enthusiast. With over 260 vehicles on display, the museum chronicles the evolution of the automobile, featuring iconic models from various eras and manufacturers. Explore the history of the Volkswagen Beetle and the innovative Golf, and admire masterpieces from Ferrari, Mercedes-Benz, and Rolls-Royce. Hands-On Driving Experiences For an adrenaline-pumping adventure Autostadt offers various driving experiences, from off-road courses to safety training sessions. Put your skills to the test in the All-Terrain Tracks, navigating challenging obstacles and terrain. Or, participate in the Safety Driving Center to learn advanced driving techniques and experience simulated hazardous road conditions. Family-Friendly Attractions and Entertainment Autostadt caters to visitors of all ages, with interactive exhibits, workshops, and play areas designed for children. The MobiVersum offers kids the opportunity to explore the world of mobility, with hands-on activities and educational programs. Additionally, enjoy seasonal events, such as the Summer Festival and Winter Wonderland, for unforgettable memories with the whole family. Hotel Ritz Carlton Wolfsburg The Hotel Ritz Carlton Wolfsburg is a haven of luxury and elegance for discerning travellers. With its striking modern architecture, unparalleled service, and world-class amenities, this five-star hotel offers an unforgettable stay for both leisure and business guests. Sophisticated Rooms and Suites with Breathtaking Views The Hotel Ritz Carlton Wolfsburg features 170 elegantly appointed guest rooms and suites, designed to provide ultimate comfort and relaxation. With floor-to-ceiling windows, guests can enjoy captivating views of the Autostadt, the iconic Volkswagen plant, or the serene harbour. Each room and suite boasts plush bedding, luxurious bathrooms, and state-of-the-art technology, ensuring a memorable stay. Culinary Delights at the Hotel Ritz Carlton Wolfsburg The hotel is home to an array of exquisite dining options, catering to diverse tastes and preferences. Indulge in a fine dining experience at the Michelin-starred restaurant Aqua, where Chef Sven Elverfeld showcases modern European cuisine with a creative twist. For a more casual atmosphere, visit the Hafenterrasse, offering international dishes and stunning waterfront views. Additionally, the hotel's Lobby Lounge and Newman's Bar provide the perfect ambiance for enjoying a relaxing drink or light meal. Unwind at the Soothing Spa and Wellness Centre The Ritz Carlton Wolfsburg's Spa and Wellness Centre is the perfect sanctuary to rejuvenate both body and mind. The extensive spa menu offers a variety of treatments, including massages, facials, and body therapies, using high-quality products and techniques. Guests can also take advantage of the heated outdoor pool, fitness center, and relaxation area, ensuring a truly invigorating experience. Savouring the Culinary Delights of Autostadt After a day of exploration, treat yourself to the diverse culinary offerings of Autostadt. With eight on-site restaurants, you can choose from a range of international cuisines, including Italian, Asian, and Mediterranean fare. Don't miss the opportunity to dine at the Michelin-starred restaurant Aqua, offering an unforgettable gourmet experience. Conclusion: A visit to Autostadt in Wolfsburg is a thrilling journey into the world of automobiles, showcasing the perfect blend of innovation, history, and entertainment. Whether you're a die-hard car enthusiast or simply looking for a unique, family-friendly destination, Autostadt is a must-visit attraction that promises an unforgettable experience.

Introduction We visited the remarkable and history-rich town of Wolfenbüttel when the British Guild of Travel Writers was invited on a tour of Lower Saxony recently. It is a picturesque town that combines rich history, stunning architecture, and a vibrant cultural scene. This hidden gem attracts history buffs, architecture enthusiasts, and tourists from all around the world. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the top attractions, events, and experiences that make Wolfenbüttel a must-visit destination. The Magnificent Herzog August Bibliothek A trip to Wolfenbüttel would be incomplete without visiting the Herzog August Bibliothek (Duke August Library). This historic library, founded in 1572, is a treasure trove of knowledge and a UNESCO Memory of the World site. Housing over 900,000 books, including rare manuscripts and incunabula, the library offers an unparalleled experience for bibliophiles and history enthusiasts alike. The Splendid Wolfenbüttel Schloss The Wolfenbüttel Schloss (Wolfenbüttel Castle) is an architectural masterpiece that serves as a symbol of the town's rich history. Constructed in the 16th century as the residence of the dukes of Brunswick-Lüneburg, the castle features magnificent interiors, including the opulent Goldener Saal (Golden Hall). Guided tours offer insights into the castle's fascinating past, making it a must-visit attraction. Exploring the Charming Old Town Wolfenbüttel's Old Town is an enchanting maze of narrow streets, half-timbered houses, and historical buildings that transport visitors back in time. Meander through the cobblestone lanes and marvel at the well-preserved architecture, including the 17th-century Zeughaus (Armoury, pictured below) and the iconic timber-framed Ratsapotheke (Council Pharmacy). The Captivating St. Mary's Church St. Mary's Church (St. Marienkirche) is a striking example of Gothic architecture in Wolfenbüttel. Established in the 12th century, this historic church is home to several artistic masterpieces, such as the baroque altar and the elaborate organ. Visitors can also admire the beautifully restored frescoes that adorn the church's walls. The Annual Wolfenbüttel Cultural Events Wolfenbüttel hosts numerous events throughout the year that showcase its vibrant cultural scene. The Wolfenbüttel Kultursommer (Culture Summer) offers an array of concerts, theatre performances, and exhibitions. Meanwhile, the Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas Market) is a festive highlight, with its twinkling lights, festive food, and unique crafts. Culinary Delights of Wolfenbüttel We had lunch at the excellent Restaurant “Zum Glück”, Löwenstraße 1, and very good it was too. Indulge in the local gastronomy by sampling traditional Lower Saxon dishes, such as the hearty Grünkohl (kale) with Bregenwurst (sausage). Don't forget to try the famous Jägermeister, a herbal liqueur that originated in Wolfenbüttel and has become a popular drink worldwide. Conclusion With its rich history, stunning architecture, and vibrant cultural scene, Wolfenbüttel is a captivating destination that should be on every traveller's bucket list. Discover the historical and cultural gems of this charming German town and create unforgettable memories. Don't miss out on the opportunity to explore the enchanting world of Wolfenbüttel!

Drive the motorways of Northern Europe and you could often be forgiven for thinking it’s a bland sort of place with little to interest the sightseer or indeed anyone who likes to delve into scenery, culture and the past. But take the exit roads and motor for a few miles and you can easily come across hidden gems which will take your breath away.  The region of Lower Saxony in northern Germany is a case in point. Its autobahns are many and they are bland - but take one of those ausfahrt signs and you can soon be wandering through the medieval streets of some of the most outstanding towns in Europe - many of which will have direct connections to kings, queens and others who have change the annals of history  Visiting Celle As I ambled through the narrow cobblestone streets of Celle one Sunday morning recently that certainly rang true. The town seemed to whisper its many secrets in my ear, serenading the soul with tales of days gone by. This picturesque gem, nestled snugly in the heart of Lower Saxony, seemed to have an aura of magic about it - or, to put it another way, it could have been a Grimm’s a fairytale sprung to life.  Celle has amazing ancient timber-framed houses like Manhattan has skyscrapers. They stand tall and proud - their facades adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant flowers. Old beams are painted a veritable tapestry of reds, blues, and yellows, and the overall effect suggests some dreamed up version of an older more pleasant Europe. We began our visit at the magnificent Celle Castle , an architectural marvel of Renaissance and Baroque styles. The place exudes an air of regality and elegance, as if inviting the visitor to a grand ball from centuries past. The castle dates back to the 13th century and was originally built as a fortified structure to protect the city of Celle.  Celle’s Connection with the British Royal Family The castle’s connection to the British royals began in 1676 when Prince George William of Brunswick-Lüneburg, the son of the Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg, married Princess Anne of Great Britain, the daughter of King James II of England. As part of her dowry, Anne brought with her a significant collection of artwork and furnishings, which were used to decorate the castle. The Hanoverians were descendants of the Stuart dynasty, which ruled England, Scotland, and Ireland from 1603 to 1714. When Queen Anne, the last of the Stuarts, died without an heir, the crown passed to her closest Protestant relative, who was the Elector of Hanover, George Louis. He became King George I of Great Britain and Ireland in 1714 and established the House of Hanover as the ruling dynasty of Britain. Many members of the Hanoverian family were born or raised at Celle Castle, including George II, who was born there in 1683. It was an important residence for the Hanoverian monarchs, and was often used as a hunting lodge and a summer retreat. The castle's stunning architecture and beautifully landscaped gardens provided the perfect setting for the family's leisure activities. Today, Celle Castle is open to the public as a museum and cultural centre where visitors can learn about the history of the Hanoverians and their links to Britain's royal family. The castle's Hall of Ancestors contains a collection of portraits of the Hanoverian monarchs, including George I, George II, and Queen Victoria. Over the centuries, the huge pile has undergone numerous renovations and expansions. One of its most notable features is the impressive Baroque chapel, which was added in the 17th century. The chapel is beautifully decorated with intricate carvings, stucco work, and frescoes. Visitors can admire the exquisite craftsmanship and take in the peaceful ambiance of this sacred space. Another highlight of the castle is the Hall of Ancestors, which contains a collection of portraits of the dukes and their families. The hall provides a glimpse into the lives and legacies of the people who once called Celle Castle home. As you can see in the two photos above - on our British Guild of Travel Writers visit, our colleague Rupert Parker was made king for the day in the castle - King Rupert the Last is what we call him now… Visitors can also explore the castle's expansive gardens, which are beautifully landscaped and offer breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside. The Town of Celle Back in town the Castle Theatre - Europe's oldest Baroque theatre - is still in use, bearing testament to the town's rich cultural history.  The timber-framed town hall, or Altes Rathaus, is another striking example of the town's architectural prowess. Dating back to the early 16th century, it boasts an impressive facade adorned with ornate carvings. Nearby we marvelled at the Ratskeller, where countless travellers sought respite and shared stories over a hearty meal. But what truly captures the visitor is Celle's unassuming charm, to be found right across the town centre in the nooks and crannies of its quaint streets. The alleys are a treasure trove of surprises, from cozy cafes to charming boutiques. It’s easy to understand how Celle has bewitched countless visitors with its allure. This enchanting town, with its rich history, warm people, and architectural beauty, seems to possess a magical quality that leaves a lasting impression. Discover Celle Castle - Lower Saxony's hidden gem. From Baroque chapels to stunning gardens: Uncovering the beauty of Celle Castle. Celle Castle and its link to Britain's royal family: A must-visit attraction in Lower Saxony

Every now and again you get an urge to visit a place that just won’t go away. It doesn’t matter that it’s miles from home, or even that, when you look at a map, there’s no obvious walk which will turn a visit into a real morning or afternoon out. The itch cannot be remedied until you scratch it by turning up and ticking the place off with a bit of an exploration.  Such was the case with me when it came to one of the most geographically iconic places in the whole of the South West. I was aware that the gorge, somewhere on the north Cornish coast, was an enigma - fabulously dramatic and at the same time a bit sepulchral. Indeed, I knew it to be a dramatic ravine of such surprising spectacle, I had always wondered why it wasn’t on the itinerary of every coach tour and completely surrounded by gift shops and tat.  Ten minutes into my visit, I began to understand why the singular place had remained aloof and alone. It is rarely visited, save for the occasional long distance walker who takes a detour from the South West Coast Path to wander up into its mighty maw. Unless you walk miles along the coast path to find the place where the ravine enters the sea, there is only one way in - and that is down a rather steep craggy footpath which, really, should only be tackled by a fairly fit person.  Once you’re down in the gorge, it is indeed dramatic - breathtaking even. It has the wildness of some remote Scottish glen. Its rocky, vertiginous, acres can’t have change much in 10,000 years.  But because of the steepness of the contours, there is no way even the most determined tourism developer could ever have put viewpoints or coach parks in, let alone cafes or gift shops.  That is why the location you will see in today’s photographs remains so special to me and those who know it. It’s not really a secret place - a lot of people know of it - but, as I’ve said, few folk actually visit this place. And, as this is the theme of this occasional series, it’s the reason I will not be giving its exact whereabouts in this article. As is the case with every location in this series, you can easily find the place if you have a mind to. A little bit of homework and it’s yours to explore. And the bonus here is that, unlike some of the other secret spots we are mentioning, this one is comparatively easy to reach. All you need do is travel along a fairly busy coast road heading north out of one of the most visited communities in Cornwall and, where the road dips into a wooded ravine, park the car in what is a sizeable lay-by. Now, cross the road to where you see a footpath sign, and head down the very steep slope that will introduce you to one of the Wonders of the West Country. I did this once on my way home from West Cornwall - and, with an hour or two to spare, I turned my exploration of gorge into a longer walk by strolling along the coast path to the aforementioned tourist town for a spot of lunch. If you haven’t time for that, then I do promise you it is worth just walking down the gorge and back again.  To begin with, the public footpath wends its way ever downwards past well-groomed private gardens, so that you might be tempted to think you are in the wrong place altogether. But soon you begin to enter one of coastal Cornwall’s wildest zones as the track threads its way alongside the tumbling stream - first on its eastern bank, then crossing to the west after passing the ruins of an old mill.  There’s a compulsory stop here so that you can admire the rock carvings and think all manner of Neolithic thoughts. Discovered in 1948, the maze-like designs on the cliff were at first thought to be from the early Bronze Age. However, in more recent times experts have changed their minds, saying that the labyrinth designs were carved with a metal tool, which would probably make them less than a century old.  Pity. They are the right shape and in the right kind of place for the enjoyment of bit of prehistoric atmosphere. I say right shape because one of them has exactly the same layout as the enigmatic maze which you can see on the western shores of distant St Agnes in the Scillies. Anyway, I am a romantic old blighter, so went on my Bronze Age way mulling over the idea that this gorge would have been exactly my kind of place had I been born 4000 years ago and wanted somewhere easily defendable with a good water supply, close to an oceanic-sized food source, in which to live.  After descending down through the most impressive and dramatic part of the gorge, the narrow track eventually reaches the coast path, where I turned left to stride up over the cliffs that line a beautiful cove. After that it rounds the corner of a great headland which shares a name with a neighbouring headland just a few miles up the coast. The path now continues along a cliff which has one of the most well known surnames in Britain - a cliff which looms above a place known as Gug – whatever a gug is.  Only then do we finally see one of the most famous landmarks in all of the UK, perched so dramatically on its great bold bastion of headland. Of all the castles in all the world, it is difficult to imagine one more laden with more myth and fancy than the romantic, sea-borne, fortifications of that particular pile. The legend goes something like this… The mother of an historic king was said to have been the most beautiful woman in Britain – a fact which brought her to the attentions of a particular aggressive and violent warlord. He invaded Cornwall so he could have his wicked way with her, despite the fact that she was married to the bloke who ruled Cornwall.  For protection, she was duly was hidden away somewhere near our secret location, while her husband’s Cornish forces were besieged at a hill-fort near by. However, the violent interloper was so smitten with lust, he couldn’t be bothered to mess about fighting and asked his wizard sidekick if he could come up with a magical shortcut. The necromancer brought him a drug that would change him into a living, breathing, copy of the woman’s husband - and, effectively disguised, the wicked one managed to gain entry to the queen’s bed, where he “satisfied his desire”.  And through those dubious means, one of Britain’s best loved heroes was conceived. But you only have to think about this story for a minute today to realise it’s all so wrong on so many levels. That’s when you realise one of our most famous and celebrated legends is actually based on a kind of date-rape drug incident. English Heritage rules the particular roost nowadays and you must pay an entry fee if you want to explore the very place where the historic figure is said to have begun his life.  Our secret place, on the other hand, is absolutely free to enter and enjoy. And in some ways, I’d say it’s more dramatic and certainly more sepulchral in a wonderful silent kid of way and filled with hidden meaning. One of the Wonders of the West Country, indeed.

“Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum…” They’re not the words most of us sing to ourselves as we make our way, stone-cold-sober, to a car-park - even if that car-park is located by the waterside in a seaside town - but it was the little ditty I hummed to myself the other day as I strolled through Salcombe. Why? Because under my arm I had a bottle of Hesperus - a fine and delicious rum made by… Well, made by me! And a very proud and delighted amateur rum-maker I was too. It’s not everyday a chap has the chance to make something so special and to have the honour of naming it with any moniker they please. I was going to call my rum Wreck of the Hesperus after Henry Wadsworth’s famous poem, but then I remembered that a couple of years ago I’d walked to that very same car-park with another bottle under my arm. On that occasion it was filled with an excellent gin which I’d spent the day making, and I’d given it the full Wreck appellation because the title of Wadsworth’s poem is the only thing in literature that gets close to my name.  Not that the naming thing matters in the slightest, because the only people who’ll ever get to see and taste these wondrous tipples are a few of my pals back at home. No, the whole point of my two little forays into the world of distilling is that on both occasions I’d enjoyed a truly wonderful day out. One or two readers may recall how we carried a report about Salcombe Distilling Co.’s excellent Gin School in these pages - now the ever innovative team has launched a new Salcombe Rum School experience.   Like Salcombe Gin School, it is located at their stunning waterside distillery on Island Street in Salcombe - said to be one of the world’s only distilleries directly accessible by boat. Salcombe Rum School allows enthusiasts to learn about the art of rum distillation and cask ageing, distil their own 70cl bottle of rum and create a bespoke rum cocktail.  Salcombe Rum School runs every Thursday afternoon (2pm - 5pm), and costs £110 for one person or £160 for a shared experience for two, and can be booked at salcombedistilling.com . At this point a churlish or mean person might question the cost - a notion which I’d knock into touch straight away, because both the gin and the rum schools offer an experience which I’d say represents a truly great afternoon out. The classes provide a truly immersive experience which is filled with so much that is interesting, you go home with something far more fascinating and extensive than just a bottle tucked under your arm.  Salcombe Rum School gives the enthusiastic student something they can cherish for years and years to come. Certainly, looking back to my afternoon with the same team at their Gin School, I can say the experience led to me to think about gin in a new and altogether more learned way. There is a genuine reason why it has won ‘Best Small Visitor Attraction’ at the South West England Tourism Excellence Awards. When I taste a gin and tonic nowadays, I am so much more aware of the flavours of botanicals and aromatics than I was previous to my day in school. I now know what I like and what to look out for.  I am sure this same knowledge, borne from the experience of actually making the stuff, will apply with rum.  Commenting on the recent launch of Salcombe Rum School, co-founder of Salcombe Distilling Co., Howard Davies, told me: “Since its launch in 2017, our award-winning Gin School has welcomed over 10,000 visitors - which of course has been wonderful for the team here and for the town.   “So we began to think about launching a Rum School last autumn after we introduced Salcombe Rum ‘Island Street’, an outstanding transatlantic spiced gold rum which is a blend of single estate gold rum, produced here at the distillery, with the finest exotic rums and spices from the Caribbean.  It has proved extremely sought-after and this, combined with the huge popularity of Salcombe Gin School, led my fellow co-founder Angus and I to launch Salcombe Rum School, allowing others the opportunity to learn how to create their own rum in a fun and relaxed way.” And the team does take a very pleasant and relaxed approach - although that doesn’t mean you don’t learn an awful lot along the way. That is partly because head distiller, Jason Nickels, who heads-up both schools, is such a good communicator.  During the session we were offered a complimentary Salcombe Rum cocktail on arrival - although, sadly, I had to demure because of having to drive later in the day.  Next, we were ushered through to Salcombe Distilling Co.’s ‘still room’ where Jason told us all about rum production. He also explained how the distillation process works on the larger traditional copper-pot rum stills - mini versions of which we’d be using in the company’s research and development laboratory which houses a specially designed classroom.    There was plenty to learn - many of us wanted to know more about the origins of the famous Caribbean spirit which, centuries ago, was the fruit of so much dubious forced labour in the island sugar plantations (see panel). Basically rum is like any other spirit - it is created by heating a sweet liquid (made from sugar cane in rum’s case) that has been semi-fermented. The steam rising from this beer-like liquor in the large boiling container known as the ‘still’ travels through copper pipes where it is rapidly cooled, resulting in a condensation which is the extremely strong high grade alcohol that is the basis for the final product.  It was a process we were to see for ourselves in Salcombe Distilling Co.’s laboratory. Guided by Jason and his assistant Harry, we students were given a small still each (or one between two - a lot of couples attend both the rum and gin schools) in which a very basic rum spirit had already been placed. Around us on each side of the lab were large shelves and tables containing all manner of spices and botanicals - our job was to read the guidance on all these flavourings then begin to compile our own recipe.  Did we want a sweeter rum, or something spicier and more fruity? By being creative and picking from the range of botanicals supplied, we were able to collect a pile of carefully weighed flavourings in a dish, which we eventually added to our still. Once this was done, the heat was turned on and we waited for that magical trickle of pure white spirit to start flowing slowly into our collection jars. This wait gave us the chance to name and create a personalised label for our finished rum - which in turn was eventually decanted into a 70cl bottle, then placed in a white wooden presentation box.   Because the stills produced slightly more than 70cl my fellow students were able to take small glass jars of their rum back to the cocktail bar where the highly experienced mixologists produced special individual rum cocktails, having studied which botanicals and flavourings had gone into each distillation. As I was driving, I was eventually able to enjoy my recommended cocktail at home - and very good it was too. I was a little sad, though, to have missed the opportunity of sampling some of the company’s exclusive cask aged Salcombe Rum ‘Island Street’ which, Howard told me, was created in honour of the transatlantic trading history of the Salcombe Fruiters.  He explained that, first a gold rum is produced by fermenting molasses, a process which is then followed by further distilling and ageing in the company’s Island Street HQ.  Hand-sourced three year old pot-still gold rum from Jamaica and three year old column still rum from the Dominican Republic are then blended with the Salcombe gold rum, along with a unique spiced pineapple distillate, to produce Salcombe Rum ‘Island Street’. If I had described my day as a ‘rum old do’ at the beginning of this article you might have been given the wrong idea - as it is, you’ll understand exactly what I mean, and why I enjoyed the experience so much. To book a place at Salcombe Distilling Co.’s Rum School or for more information, visit www.salcombedistilling.com .  RUM - A Brief History The earliest evidence of rum production dates back to the Caribbean in the early 1500s. It goes without saying that the West Country always had quite a close relationship with the drink, given that our sailor-folk had more than a hand in the shameful slave trade which gave rise to the sugar plantations which were developed with the help of forced African labour on the other side of the Atlantic. Indeed, I have been to some of the rural plantation parishes of northern Barbados and heard local people speaking with a dialect that could be traced directly to the South West of England. However, historians believe that the Spanish and Portuguese sailors were the first to ferment and distil sugarcane byproducts, creating what we now know as rum. During the 16th century, the drink was widely used as a trading currency in the Caribbean region, particularly in the British and Dutch colonies.  The production of rum spread throughout the Caribbean, with the British and French settlers setting up distilleries to produce the spirit for their own consumption. By the late 17th century, rum had become one of the most popular spirits in Europe and the Americas.  In the 18th century, rum production began to spread to other areas of the world, such as India, South America and the United States. By the 19th century, it had become the most popular spirit in the USA and remained so until the early 20th century.

A secret canyon here in the West Country - a dramatic mini-gorge which is one of the least visited places anywhere south of Birmingham? How could anyone possibly resist an invitation to explore such a place?  That’s what I said to myself a few years ago when I put the phone down after talking to the late David ‘Kester’ Webb.  There were two things on my mind.  The first was a hit of genuine excitement. The idea that such a place should exist here in such a well-populated region seemed too wonderful to be true - but I knew my old friend Kester was the one person in the country who was well qualified to make such a claim.  The other was a feeling of slight trepidation… Because, when Kester Webb used to go out for a day at the seaside, he always did so more adventurously than most. With his wife Liz, he’d walked, climbed and clambered to some of the most inaccessible parts of this peninsula’s coasts over the past half-century, both for the sheer thrill of adventure, and to make drawings and paintings of the region’s most secret places. Of course, when he phoned with an offer to take me to a place which he claimed to be one of the least visited places in all of southern England, I instantly agreed to go without asking how dangerous it would be. The previous time I’d joined Kester and his athletic wife Elizabeth on a vertiginous sojourn, I ended up staring into a rabbit hole tunnelled into vertical turf 200 feet above crashing waves. For some reason the combination of that cosy little burrow and my own perilous situation caused me to have a massive panic attack and I froze - if shaking like a jelly can be described as freezing. I needn’t have worried on this occasion. During the conversation Kester - then aged 75 - assured me he’d reached the age when he was giving up on his more vertigo-inducing adventures by the seaside.  What he wouldn’t tell me on the telephone, though, was the exact location of the place which he called The Secret Canyon… And so it was that I found myself walking somewhere along the “Wreckers’ Coast” between Bideford and Bude. Kester was intending to draw the Secret Canyon and - believe it or not - to measure its vital statistics.  And he was getting into his geological stride as we marched along the South West Coast Path, explaining how the particular geography of the area had occurred thanks to a long-lost river that tipped into the ocean many eons ago. All this was evident as we walked: there’s a valley which sweeps around the inland half of a steep knoll - a kind of natural pyramid - only to disappear over the sea-cliffs on either side.  Kester explained that the long-lost river ran parallel with the coast north to south - so when the sea eroded its way inland to reach just a corner of it, the river instantly took the new, more direct route, to the sea (a similar thing happened at Lynton’s more famous Valley of Rocks).   Could this ancient point of escape be the site of our secret canyon? I didn’t know as we first strolled down to the place. But I could see that a small stream running down the steep valley entered what remained of a much large ancient river system, crossing it to make a final leap for freedom and the sea in a death-defying waterfall. It was only when we walked to the very edge of the cataract that I could see that the great force of the cascading water had, over many centuries, managed to create what really was a rocky canyon… Don’t get too excited. It is not a Grand Canyon. There are places where you couldn’t swing a cat in it, let alone go bungee-jumping, fly a helicopter, or whatever else it is they do in vast gorges elsewhere in the world...  It is a remarkable place nevertheless - a truly wild, almost inaccessible, rock-and-river zone that cannot be fully appreciated until you are right down there in the middle of it.  That, as I was to find out, required the use of ropes. Or, at least, it does if you are being the slightest bit sensible. Which, I am glad to say, Kester and Liz always were when I joined them on seaborne adventures.  Many years earlier the couple had succeeded in helping to formulate the incredibly perilous - but now much-celebrated - Exmoor Traverse, which only a handful of people have ever managed to complete. It is the long, long climb which traverses right along England’s most vertical littoral from Porlock Weir in the east to Combe Martin in the west. A climb which is fully described in their excellent book called The Hidden Edge of Exmoor. So it was with some confidence I stood down there on a wild beach having a climbing harness fitted - confident in the belief that if you can do the Exmoor Traverse unscathed, you can do anything, including the much easier task of entering the Secret Canyon from the shoreline beneath.  “On a dry day it’s quite possible for agile people, perhaps with a bit of climbing experience, to walk up through the canyon from the beach,” said Kester, looking up at the lower waterfall around which we were about to clamber. “That’s the safest way to tackle it. There are a couple of awkward bits where we’ll use a rope today, but an experienced climber wouldn’t bother with that. As long as you’ve got good footwear and you keep your wits about you, you can work your way up through the canyon and come out at the path at the top.” Please don’t try it unless you are an experience climber. Entering the Secret Canyon, having a look around, and then exiting the way you came is perilous enough for most people. Only a person with a lot of rock climbing experience should contemplate going right up through to the top.  As we set about our clamber, Kester explained: “In 1908 the original geological explorer of North Devon - a chap called Neil Arber - came here and surveyed this place and made notes and tried to make a summary of this canyon.  “He said it was very complicated - and he tried to do diagrams to show how the rocks folded in different directions and show all the detail he could get. Of course, he couldn’t get the good camera shots we can today with all the wide-angle lenses and so on. But he did write that this canyon was so remarkable it was one of the treasures of England - and it should have special status in the future to protect it.” By now we were past the first of a series of waterfalls. “I don’t know what could be done to protect it down here,” said Kester. “But the sentiment was that it was a very unusual and remarkable canyon - and therefore very interesting.  “These great slabs were laid down horizontally in the bottom of a shallow sea, or even a big lake,” he went on, explaining how the amazing geological formations that were now surrounding us on every side were formed. “The sediment settled, and then more sediment settled on top of that and compressed the mud and sand into solid rock. Then, when we bumped into Africa, the whole lot got crumpled up. You can see it along this entire coast everywhere you go - if you look back at the cliffs you can see how the rock is all folded like so much cardboard.” This is what makes the canyon so spectacular - it was a kind of Piccadilly Circus of ancient seabeds which collided in the one place to be twisted and shaped into the most contorted of cliff-scapes.  “There is a meeting here where the anticlines and synclines collide,” said Kester, pointing up at the 100-foot canyon walls. “And the effect is that these near vertical slabs slope in different directions - from the inside here in the canyon you can see them going in five or six different ways - which is why I’m doing semi-diagrammatic drawings to decipher what was actually happening originally. “This work has been commissioned by Peter Keane who is publishing a book about this part of the coast. He’s a geologist and, although he’s got lots of lovely photographs, the drawings are needed to help understand what’s going on in this geological structure.  “I’ve done the same on the Exmoor coast for when we published our book The Hidden Edge - this coast is going to be one of my next projects,” explained Kester who sadly passed away a few years ago, leaving his widow Liz who still lives in North Devon. “It’s a very interesting and inspiring complex landscape - which will probably inspire me to do my next collection of drawings.” Later, back at their home near Barnstaple, I was to see some of the exquisite cliff-paintings which illustrated the Exmoor book - but back in the canyon we settled down to have a picnic lunch above one of its three cauldron-like pools. When I say “we”, I mean Liz and I sat there dining al-fresco and admiring the savage scenery while Kester clambered this way and that taking measurements and drawing sketches.  Eventually, as we began to climb to the tiny footpath opposite the main 60-foot waterfall which tumbles into the top of the canyon, Kester stopped for a second to catch his breath and he mused: “I started climbing the Exmoor coast 50 years ago, but now I’m past 75 it’s time to retire gracefully and hang up my climbing gear.” He added: “From now on I’ll just do what you might call adventure walks - like this one to the Secret Canyon - which don’t put too much strain on my old knees.” The handful of connoisseurs who’ve spent their lives exploring the West Country’s wild and perilous north coast still remember the late Kester Webb with a combination of admiration and awe. During his lifetime, he and Liz explored, mapped, painted and wrote about some of the least-known but perilous corners of our well-populated and much-visited region.  If any reader ever does find themselves clambering up the Secret Canyon having discovered it somewhere tucked away in a quiet corner of the Devon-Cornwall coast, why not a spend a second or two remembering the man who mapped and painted the most obscure parts of the Southern English littoral.

We’ve experienced some wild weather recently, which may sound like an odd way of starting an article about food - until you remember that most of the stuff we put on our plates probably came from the great outdoors.  As storm after storm has hit this week, some of us in our cosy kitchens may have been sparing a thought for people like the farmers who must tend livestock in such conditions or who’ll be worrying about over-wintering crops and early planting regimes. But the folk I really think about as the wind rages and the Atlantic tries its best to invade the land are the people who go out into that ocean in their bid to catch an array of this region’s finest foodie treasures… By which I mean, the amazing seafood for which the West Country has such an exceptional name.  As I steam a fillet of John Dory over a pan of gently bubbling water, my imagination flies west to some raging maelstrom in which a Cornish fisherman has somehow managed to catch the sweet and delicate morsel which is about to become my supper. As a person who suffers from seasickness, it never ceases to amaze me that there are people who make a living from returning again and again to the wild seas.  But another thing which has never ceased to amaze me is how we Brits have been so reluctant to embrace the treasure trove that’s landed upon our own shores. I realise things have changed a lot since I began writing about the West Country food scene a quarter of a century ago, but we still have a long way to go before we catch up with the love our neighbours have for fresh fish. Many times have I been in European towns and cities located hundreds of miles from the sea where I’ve seen fish-markets selling the likes of sparkling fresh Cornish hake or Devon brown crab in such great quantities it’s as if the stuff had been landed just down the road.   I always feel somewhat deflated, comparing it with the situation in Somerset where I’d have to travel a 60-mile round trip to the nearest fresh fish shop to have any hope of seeing such produce. Of course, some areas in the region are better supplied than others - in North Devon there’s our old friend, the inimitable Dan the Fishman, who sells fresh seafood around markets in the region such as Tavistock and South Molton (find out more at https://clovellyfish.com/ ). There’s also the much acclaimed Fish Deli, Ashburton, which is an exemplar of its kind.   There is a fish-stall in a large supermarket a little closer to my home, but every time I’ve attempted to support it with custom I’ve been left disappointed with the staleness of seafood on offer. I don’t know if that’s the supermarket’s fault or the fact that we Brits seem so reluctant to buy seafood that doesn’t come out of a packet. What I do know is that the situation has changed and that now, in what could be termed the Age of the 24-Hour-Delivery, we can get hold of very fresh fish direct from the people who catch it.  A growing number of firms run fish-by-post operations in the region and it is now possible to purchase the very freshest seafood and have it delivered to your door within 24 hours of it being landed.  That’s because many vessels fishing out of Devon and Cornwall are day-boats, which means their catches can be processed, vac-packed and despatched to your door with an overnight courier just hours after the fish has been caught. Prices vary according to season and the catches involved, but visit the numerous websites and you can purchase the kind of seafood you like either by selecting specific fish or species - or by relying on a company like Newlyn-based Fresh Cornish Fish (https://www.fresh-cornish-fish.co.uk/) which puts together boxes of whatever’s been best on the market that day. They run the Fish Box Club - there’s no signing up or necessity to become a member - and this month the best value box deliverable nationwide (which typically contains around 4 kgs of fresh fish from Newlyn market) costs £44.99.   Another such operation is run by Trelawney Fish, also based on the harbour-side at Newlyn (http://www.trelawneyfish.co.uk).  For many years now I have been a regular customer of the excellent Brixham seafood merchant David Walker and Son (davidwalkerandson.com/). My old friend David, who was one of the most experienced and knowledgeable fish merchants in the country, sadly passed away a year ago - but for a long time now the business has been in the very capable hands of his son Neil, who operates an overnight delivery service to both home and commercial customers, as well as running a shop from the quay alongside a seasonal shellfish take-away on the harbour-side.  This week Neil told me: “January is a great month for fish in the region. Pretty much everything is good at this time of year - we normally have the full spread - but of course we’ve been hit badly by storms in the past few days. However, locally caught lemon sole, hake, sea-bass, haddock… It’s all good.  “Our stock is dependant upon which species the local fishing boats land on any particular morning, therefore guaranteeing the ultimate in freshness. So just give us a call and we will be able to tell you what offers are available and you can instruct us how you would like it processed, packed and sealed,” said Neil. I’ve turned to another old friend, Robin Turner for this week’s recipe. Robin has had a long and interesting career as a fish merchant working out of the port of Newlyn for over 40 years and still works closely with local fisherman and shellfish businesses. Nowadays he also works with his wife, Rebecca, running one of Cornwall’s most prestigious specialist catering outfits. Their business, Indulgence Catering, uses the finest of local ingredients to tailor-make bespoke menus and I, for one, can vouch for the quality of their food. This week’s recipe focusses on turbot and lobster, but before he gave me details of Rebecca’s excellent recipe, Robin and I spoke about the locally caught haddock, a species which was doing well before the storms hit…  “Personally, I like my haddock smoked with poached with an egg for Sunday breakfast,” said Robin. “Or, if you really want to try something special, try thinly sliced smoked with sour cream instead of using the traditional smoked salmon.  “Unsmoked and fresh, the simplest way is best,” he went on. “The best fish and chips uses battered haddock. It is absolutely fantastic – as is haddock in fish pies. Or you can cook one on the bone in the oven, wrapped in tin foil, with wine – throw in whole cloves of garlic and sieve the sauce afterwards before squeezing a fresh orange into it and tipping it over the fish, making sure you’ve squeezed in the garlic flesh.”  I don’t know about you, but at this time of year I can find myself becoming a little weary of the big heavy meals which winter tends to inspire. This week I tried Robin’s whole-haddock suggestion and (although I am not adhering to it myself) gave a nod to Dry January by serving it with a glass of Luscombe’s amazing Sicilian Lemonade (luscombe.co.uk). It was a sensational combo! As well as being utterly delicious, it felt wonderfully light, refreshing and healthy - and I felt good knowing I was both helping a great local company like Luscombe and a regional fishing industry which has been knocked back by recent storms, not to mention, Brexit, fuel prices and just about everything else. Bring on the fish, I say! Especially if I can get fish which is the envy of Europe delivered straight to my door.     RECIPE Cornish turbot with lobster sauce and tender stem broccoli - as made by Newlyn-based Indulgence Catering (https://www.indulgence-catering.co.uk) For two people - If no turbot available, use brill or large lemon sole - and instead of lobster you can use prawn shells or crawfish shells to flavour the sauce. Ingredients:- 2 x 180 gram skinless turbot fillets 1 x 500 gram lobster 150ml white wine 150 ml cognac Tomato passata 200ml Olive oil 2 x table spoons Trewithen Cornish butter 2 x 150gram 1 x large shallot 2 x cloves garlic  200ml fish stock 150ml Trewithen double cream Salt & black pepper Veg 180 gram tender stem broccoli  Method  Render lobster to a state of sleep (insentient) by putting in deep freezer for an hour. Cook in boiling salted (4%) water for 8 minutes - after cooking and cooling cut lobster lengthwise and remove stomach and intestine. Then remove meat (both white and brown meat) and put aside in fridge. Put empty lobster shells (or prawn or crawfish shells) in a pan chopped and crushed so that all flavours will go into the sauce, add just enough water to cover shells and bring to boil, then simmer for 30 mins. The shells should have given up lots of flavour into the simmering water. Keep for adding to sauce mix. Chop finely shallot and garlic cloves. In a separate pan soften shallot in olive oil. When softened continuously stir, add garlic on gentle heat do not burn garlic or shallot. Add cognac and flame to burn off alcohol. Add wine, tomato passata and fish stock. Now add the lobster shell liquor through a chinoise. Add butter, bring to boil and then simmer until liquid is reduced by 60%. Season to taste. Pass all through chinoise into a new pan, then add double cream stir and taste. There should be a rich lobster sauce fit for a king. Can be frozen or chilled to use next day. Cut lobster white meat into 8 x small 20p sized discs to add and serve with sauce warmed and turbot. If you are within 10 minutes of serving warm sauce over gentle heat and add lobster meat discs. Freeze the balance of the lobster meat (white and brown) for future use. Steam tender stem broccoli for 5 minutes. In a shallow pan add the second tablespoon of olive oil and heat to medium heat on hob. Put turbot fillets into pan, presentation side down and season. Turn after 2 minutes and season presentation side cook for a further 2 minutes, remove turbot from pan and serve on top of tender stem broccoli pouring lobster sauce over the turbot sharing the lobster discs evenly between the two plates.

For nearly 25 years I have been writing walks articles which explain exactly how to find the place concerned and how to follow the route - but this time I’m keeping schtum about the geography of the location in the photographs.  A smallish handful of Exmoor-lovers will know it well - a great many will not.  My father, Peter Hesp, brought me to this place when I was six or seven years old (some 60 years ago), because he used to like writing feature articles about “hidden Exmoor” for his newspaper. Eventually those articles - with the help of the national park authority - were put together and turned into a book, called Secret Exmoor - which today has become a bit of a collector’s piece.  However, I this location did not make it into the final cut. Maybe my dear old dad felt the same way I do about the place. There is something secretive and arcane about it.  The little circle of trees in the moors deserves to be visited, but not shouted about.  Perhaps it’s the fact that the trees appear to have sunk down into the moorlands which helps to promote this air of hiddenness. It’s as if the place doesn’t want to be known to the world - as though it is in hiding, more than happy to be far from the eyes of humankind. Too catch a glimpse of this junction of moorland streams from afar, you would need to be in some kind of aircraft. And who can blame this clandestine corner for wishing to retain its privacy in this day and age when we’ve done so much to wreck the planet that we now call this era the Anthropocene? To some slight degree I felt like an interloper when I walked there yesterday in bright winter sunlight. And certainly we did not tarry for long. The January sun was sinking fast and this is no place to be caught out in the dark.  However, I do intend returning every now and again - and to carry on doing so for as long as my limbs will take me across those sodden moors. Next time, I’ll go earlier and maybe take a flask of soup - or maybe we’ll have a summer’s picnic there later in the year. But we will always, always, ensure that we leave nothing save for the odd boot-mark here or there. This place, above all others I know here in crowded Southern England, deserves its sanctity and its unbelievably refreshing sense of peace and quietude.  And now, having visited the ring of trees in the middle of nowhere and having written this little piece, I am considering creating an entire series of articles and illustrations focussing on the hidden places of the West Country - - so I am wondering what others would think… Is it a good idea? Would you like to read and see such places and have some fun trying to puzzle out where they are? Let me know.

It being New Year and all that, I have been looking back at the 20 year stint I did as a professional walks writer working for a large regional daily newspaper… It meant going for a scenic country walk and getting paid for it, which can’t have been a bad gig. My wife thought I’d lost my last remaining marbles when I posed the question 20 years ago in a bid to come up with some plan for, what then, was a faltering career.  After some years working as a freelance radio reporter and producer for the BBC, I’d had a bash at running my own video production company - a crazy move which saw me both make and lose money. Unfortunately, my being almost dyslexic when it comes to numbers and accounts caused me to lose more than make, so I needed to change tack before I managed to get myself into financial difficulty.  Hence the seemingly bizarre idea to walk and get paid for it. Not quite as crazy as it sounds when, for long periods of your working life, you’ve made a good living out of being a freelance writer for newspapers and magazines. I had done just that for more than a decade in my younger years.  Indeed, for the best part of five years I’d worked almost exclusively for one of the major national newspapers as a freelance feature writer - and it was a collection of my yellowing Guardian articles that I took with me to the WMN HQ in Plymouth in 1999. “What a regional daily paper needs is a weekly country walk, illustrated with some nice photos,” is what I said to Philip Bowern, who is still my friend and colleague to this day. Amazingly - and much to my wife’s surprise - Philip agreed, and I have produced a weekly walk for the WMN ever since. I’d like to be able to say that this totals over 1100 different hikes, but it wouldn’t quite be true. Firstly because I picked up a dangerous illness in a jungle some years ago and spent time in hospital where the medics had to think and work hard to save my life. That six-week gap was followed almost ten years later by a major heart operation to fix the heart valve which the jungle bacteria nearly wrecked. That resulted in another 10 weeks away from the long and winding road.  It’s also true to say that things like long periods of really bad weather, alongside a few other factors outside my control, have occasionally forced me to revisit and rewrite old walks done years ago. Having said that, I’ve put some miles in to the WMN walks pages - perhaps 4000 to 6000 miles by my (admittedly hopeless) calculations. I’ve climbed and descended the equivalent of half a dozen Mount Everests and I’ve been baked, soaked, boiled and frozen.  And just once in 20 years have I got lost on a hike. I was in the middle of northern Dartmoor when a sudden fog made everything further than the tips of my fingers disappear. This was in pre-mobile-phone days so I had no satellite positioning aid - and, I’m sorry to admit, no compass. You don’t really need one for 999 out of a 1000 Westcountry walks, if you have a good sense of direction. I knew we were slightly to the west of the main watershed, so reasoned that any stream we could pick up would flow in the general direction towards the place where we’d parked. So by listening hard and then stumbling towards the sound of moving water, we found and followed a brook that eventually joined the River Tavy, which in turn took us back to within 50 metres of my car.  The first real hitch in my walks-writing career came in the form of a terrible thing which had serious ramifications for a great many careers and businesses. Nearly mine, but not quite. When the foot and mouth outbreak hit in 2001, WMN editor Barrie Williams called me in and said: “That’s put the kibosh on that then, Hespie. The countryside is closed so we can’t even reprint some of your previous walks. We don’t want to frustrate readers by suggesting walks they can’t do - so for the time being your goose is cooked.” I don’t often think fast on my feet - not successfully anyway - but on this occasion I managed a career-saving: “On the contrary Barrie… People need places to walk more than ever, now the countryside is closed. I’ll do town and city walks. There are plenty of town trails and both the readers and the good burghers of such places will be chuffed.” They were. Or so it seemed. I believe that to be true because eventually Mr Williams presented me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. By then the WMN was paying me a freelance rate to write all manner of news features and columns and Barrie suddenly announced that he was fed up with “haemorrhaging money like water” in my direction.  The choice was to either quit freelancing for the paper altogether, or become a fully-fledged staff member.  I took the latter option and still have the official letter of employment in which Barrie said he was pleased “to make an honest man” of me. It also states that I would never be expected to work from a company office - which explains why I only darken the WMN doors about once in every two years.  “No good newspaper story was ever found inside a newspaper office,” is what Barrie said, when I pointed out that I lived (and still live) 96 miles from WMN HQ. And so the walks continued - and still do all these years later. During the 20-years I have been attacked by dogs just three times, I have been almost overwhelmed by the stench of a dead whale rotting on a remote Devon beach, almost choked by a vast thick cloud of flying ants on the very top of Brown Willy, dodged pheasant shot several times, avoided ranting nutters on at least four occasions and ducked to escape flying golf balls twice.  I once made my elderly mother and father wade through an icy Dartmoor stream having discovered a footbridge was down on a rapidly darkening winter’s afternoon. On another occasion I watched with alarm as a friend who’d just had a heart operation turned white on the slopes of Golden Cap. A friend and I once flirted with pneumonia after we’d rescued a drowning ewe from a raging Exmoor river. And, also on Exmoor, I once came face to face with a rutting stag in the gloaming. As he galloped at me I thought my end had come, until he suddenly veered away and shot off through the woods. People often ask if they can join me on my newspaper hikes and so I’ve walked with international business consultants, out-of-work printers, blacksmiths, computer analysts, airline pursers, writers, farmers, surfing-instructors, acorn pickers, famous actors, housewives, WI members, drug addicts, alcoholics, CEOs, PR people, TV executives, teachers, male poets and one very beautiful female poet.    I must have had more than a dozen enquiries from publishers asking if I’d consider making the walks into a book, and one day I will.  I have lost count of the times people have asked me to name my favourite Westcountry walk, or the equal number of times I’ve had to say something about that being mission impossible. Walks are like music or food. One day you’ll be in the mood for a particular dish or tune - the next you might want something more spicy or perhaps more calming. If I had to go for a shortlist of, say, five great Westcountry hikes I’d divide the region up and go for the splendour of the multi-level Woody Bay to Hunter’s Inn and Heddon’s Mouth hike on the Exmoor coast; the glories of the Otterton, Budleigh, Ladram Bay, High Peak circular on the east Devon coast; the Dr Blackall’s Drive hike in a fabulous part of Dartmoor; the Fowey, Hall Walk, Lantic Bay circular on the south Cornish coast; and the circumnavigation of St Mary’s in the Isles of Scilly.  But if you came back to me with suggestions for better walks I’d probably agree with you. My lists are hardly written in soft Exmoor shale, let alone in hard Dartmoor granite. The thing is to be enthusiastic about all the walks which you end up following and writing about. Which is sometimes tougher than you may think. People often say they’d like my job - and some even occasionally tell the editor they could do a better job. I’m sure they could. But for how long? Writing any series of articles without a break, week-in, week-out for 20 years, is a proper job of work. Doing a couple of dozen, then running out of steam is not what a newspaper editor wants. What they need is for correspondents to have consistency - and a rapport with the readers. Remaining upright and walking through beautiful countryside is as good as life gets - and to be paid for doing it is a lottery-winning ticket if ever I heard of one.

As this is the time of year when we’re supposed to be making resolutions - or, at least, pronouncing promises to ourselves that are difficult to keep - why not throw a few exciting ones in to the mix? The theory is this: such resolutions are pleasing to contemplate - and, if they come off, you will be hugely rewarded for your efforts.  That’s a win-win situation because merely planning say, for example, a walking adventure somewhere very special can help wile away the dark damp winter evenings still to come. Here’s my News Year’s Resolution Classic Walks special for 2023 - based on the idea of hiking in some of the Westcountry’s most difficult to reach, but beautiful and hugely rewarding, locations… By which I mean islands. Yes, the isles surrounding this peninsula take a lot more time and effort to reach than our inland hills and dales - but spend a day circumnavigating one of them and you will be rewarded with memories that will last longer, and be far more treasured, than can be gleaned from most walks in the region. There is something very special indeed about sailing or flying to a lump of rock out in the ocean - and the isles I mention here have little footpaths that allow you to circumnavigate the place so that you can return home really believing you achieved a full blown expedition rather than just a hike. LUNDY Perhaps the outstanding example of an ocean-going adventure is Lundy. Most people who travel out to the island attempt the circumnavigation of this three mile long, half-mile wide, lump of rock located where the tide races of the Bristol Channel meet the Atlantic. Basically, Lundy is a high plateau surrounded by cliffs - the walk people like to do most is a clockwise circumnavigation of this maritime tableland. After visiting the small village at the top of the track from the landing jetty for refreshments or supplies, walk past St Helena's Church and west to the cliffs of South West Point, and then turn north towards Goat Island. This is where you might spy a black rabbit - a breed indigenous to Lundy. Walking north past Old Light on Beacon Hill, we cross Ackland's Moor which boasts the unlikely remains of a nine hole golf course as well as what is supposed to be an airstrip.   Earthquake is the strange name of the next corner of island, which we find after crossing the Quarter Wall. Lundy is divided into four by the three great walls placed at quarter intervals that cross from one side of the island to the other. At Earthquake there are chasms that you can't see the bottom of - apparently caused by the Lisbon earthquake of 1755. It is a good place from which to view the sea-bird colonies that cling to the cliffs around Jenny's Cove.  Now we march past Halfway Wall and Threequarter Wall, to the quiet wilderness of North End. On the way you may pass some of the island’s goats and see the wild Soay sheep which are Lundy's answer to antelope.  Rounding North End we begin our journey down the eastern side of the island. Soon we come to Gannets' Rock where you can, if you’re lucky, see the local seal colony lolling about on the rocks far below. Then it is south again, past the remains of the old gun battery called Brazen Ward. Once across Threequarter Wall, you can chose either to walk directly south along the island’s central track, or take the more interesting coast path.  This will take you down the east side of the island, past the historic quarries and through the rhododendron jungle where you might see a Sika deer or two. Eventually a steep path will take you back up to Lundy’s small settlement where you can enjoy a well earned pint at the Marisco Tavern. FLAT HOLM The Lewis Alexander is the sturdy little 45-seater passenger ferry that services an isle which some might argue is not really part of the Westcountry. Flat Holm is officially the most southerly bit of Wales – but as it is twin to Somerset’s Steep Holm, and as it is very much part of the Bristol Channel scene and can be spotted from a lengthy section of this region’s coast – it has a rightful place in this article.  And it’s fun to walk around. Flat Holm, or Ynys Echni to give it the unpronounceable Welsh name, is a limestone island lying seven miles north west of Brean Down. Not surprisingly, being situated plonk in the middle of a busy seaway, the island has a long history, dating at least from the Bronze Age. There have been religious recluses, saints and their disciples, smugglers, farmers, gunnery officers, lighthouse keepers, hotel keepers, the doctors and nurses of a cholera hospital – it was even the founding site of the Bristol Channel Mission, which later became the Mission to Seafarers. Now it is home to a warden and his two helpers, occasional volunteers, occasional campers and work-group members, and gulls. Lots and lots of gulls. Flat Holm is not flat. The cliffs at the south-eastern corner of the round-ish isle rise some 160 feet from the swirling waves. It is on this high point that the 90 foot lighthouse stands. There’s been a warning light here for many years - the first one was a simple brazier mounted on a wooden frame. But in 1733 the Society of Merchant Venturers of Bristol claimed it was unreliable and petitioned the authorities to erect a proper lighthouse. The tower was eventually in operation by 1738. From what could be described as the island’s summit the ground slopes gently down towards the north and west and there are the remains of human yesteryear to be found almost every step of the way.  Flat Holm’s first human occupants were denizens of the late Bronze Age - more than 1000 years later it became a retreat for Saint Cadoc, who apparently lived on the island as a hermit. After the saints, came the Anglo-Saxons - who called the island Bradanreolice. “Reolice” said to come from an Irish word meaning graveyard – adding fuel to the belief that Flat Holm had religious significance as a place of burial to people at the time.  The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that in 1067, Gytha Thorkelsdóttir, mother of Harold II, the last Anglo-Saxon king of England, stayed on the island before travelling to France after the Norman invasion. Flat Holm long played a cosy host to smugglers. There is even a legend that various secret tunnels were dug around an old mine shaft.   Next on our round-the-isle hike we come to the island’s sanatorium – now a ruin surrounded by nettles. It was in 1883 that the steamship Rishanglys left three cholera stricken seamen on the island. They had only a canvas tent to be ill in - one of the sailors subsequently died and islanders petitioned for compensation saying they’d lost income from the fact visitors were too frightened to make day trips. By 1896 an isolation hospital had been built. It is said to be the only isolation hospital sited on a British offshore island. The last patient to die there was a victim of bubonic plague - cremated on the island at the end of the 19th century. Today people go to Flat Holm for fun rather than for medical purposes. The place is a Local Nature Reserve, managed under The Flat Holm Project which is supported by a registered charity.  Find out more about Flat Holm by visiting www.flatholmisland.com ST GEORGE’S OR LOOE ISLAND St George’s, or Looe Island as it’s sometimes called, has all the attributes of other-worldliness necessary for an oceanic adventure, which is probably what so famously inspired two sisters from the Home Counties to buy it many years ago.  More about them later, first the vital statistics: St George’s is 22.5 acres of rocky, woody, heathy beauty lying just off a place called Hannafore, which is a kind of seaside suburb of West Looe. In a way, its shape on the map resembles a tiny Cyprus. The eastern peninsula points toward the heart of the English Channel and is backed by a 150 foot hill, skirted on its northern edge by dense woodland. The upper and western flanks play host to windswept heath, now being grazed by black, agile, Hebridean sheep. Those sheep have their own story to tell and it relates to the very recent history of the island. They were introduced by the Cornwall Wildlife Trust (CWT) which now manages St Georges, having been bequeathed the place by the two Atkins sisters, Evelyn and Babs in 2004. Evelyn wrote several books about the subject of looking after a tiny kingdom, including the celebrated We Bought an Island. The blurb on the back of the book tells the long story succinctly: “Evelyn Atkins and her sister Babs were two middle-aged sisters who lived in suburban Surrey and led the humdrum life of so many commuters. Like other people Evelyn dreamed of owning an island. And Evelyn was a very determined daydreamer… There is only one reason to hurry when walking around tiny St George’s, and that is when you are keeping oyster catchers off their eggs – which is what we were doing by standing feet away from a nest precariously placed on the beach. Suddenly we found ourselves in a delightful wooded hinterland – the kind of peaceful sylvan place you most definitely do not associate with windswept Westcountry islands. This tall sycamore woodland is on the protected north-eastern slope, away from the ruinous salt-laden gales of the west.  Past a tiny dingly-dell cottage we walk, past the grave of one of the sisters and some vegetable gardens containing the aforementioned artichokes, to the main house and its annex situated at the base of the eastern peninsula.  The house has that Miss Havisham feel so beautifully described by Charles Dickens in Great Expectations… Like the whole island, it is a place arrested in time. The public can visit the island aboard Cornwall Wildlife Trust’s 12 passenger boat - to find out more visit http: www.cornwallwildlifetrust.org.uk/nature_reserves/

My popular Exmoor-based Christmas fairytale The Deer Park has been made into an audiobook that has just been made available across some of the world’s largest online platforms. You can listen to a sample of the audiobook here… Audible, the world’s leading audiobook platform (owned by Amazon), has in recent times made it possible for authors to submit readings of their own works - but the recordings are required to meet exacting standards and parameters before they could be presented as a completed production and advertised for sale.  The Deer Park - A Modern Fairytale - is available as an audiobook on Audible and as an audiobook, ebook and paperback on Amazon. We have a limited number of free-to-listen vouchers which we could email to potential readers/listeners in return for a review - contact books@martinhesp.co.uk

As we’ve been saying in recent posts, we have just returned from a wonderful stay at the amazing Mullion Cove apartments - and while there we visited nearby Porthleven on a windy grey October day. Since I wrote the article below many years ago, Porthleven has become a kind of foodie mecca - as witnessed in these inviting looking dishes I snapped (but didn’t actually get to taste) at The Ship Inn located right out near the mouth of the famous harbour. Alas, all I was able to try was a brisket in a bap dish which we consumed outdoors on a cool and breezy lunchtime - but no matter, it was very good indeed. Anyway - please have a read of the article which I wrote about Porthleven 20 long years ago when it was a very different place. There's a famous photo of the Bickford-Smith Institute and its gaunt clock-tower surrounded by wild seas. In a way, the picture is an icon that illustrates man's mad desire to be by the sea, regardless of what the elements may chuck at him. He will sail, surf and swim, he will fish and frolic on the beach - he will even build a special place in which to read - just as long as he can be beside the sea. Anyone who's ever been to Porthleven will know the Bickford-Smith Institute because its dark, rather austere old reading rooms dominate the harbour mouth. The adjoining 70 foot clock-tower watches over the town and lords it over the occasional tempest - just like Big Ben watches over the Thames and stands aloft from the boiling cauldron of Westminster. Stark and indomitable the tower seems to say to the ocean - look, you have your mysteries-of-the-deep and your terrible violence; we have intelligence and books. Man meets sea. And when he does he must build - not only literary institutes - but groins and quays, piers and wharves so that he can protect his frail vessels from the mayhem of the waves. At Porthleven that mayhem is kept firmly outside the Baulk, the narrow mouth of the inner harbour where massive beams of timber are lowered to take the punch out of the waves that come hurtling past the pier, past the Institute and into the outer basin whenever there's a sou'westerly howling in across Mount's Bay. It's an odd name - the Baulk. Being in a reading-room frame of mind I looked up the word in a dictionary and it said: "A hindrance, a check; a disappointment." Disappointing indeed if you get home in a storm and find that the harbour staff have used the derrick on the quay to lower each beam into its special place. They're not meant to, and don't without contacting each of the port's vessels, because this is an official Port Of Refuge according to an Act of Parliament in 1860. At least, that's what a local skipper told me and he seemed proud of this curious old-fashioned status. But disappointment can also rear its ugly head when massive waves pick up the big beams and throw them about like match-sticks. I talked to some Porthleven men who were congregated by the harbour-master's shed and all of them had seen the Baulk come unseated in a gale. "It takes a special sort of wave from a particular direction," said John Russell who works at the harbour. "And it has to be big..." Gigantic I would have thought. The pieces of timber employed to create the Baulk are between 28 and 32 feet long and two feet thick. Each one weighs two tons, but John and the other men had seen the beams plucked from their settings like bits of cork. Later harbour master Ken Milburn explained to me that the timbers weren't designed to be an impenetrable dam, but float in their seatings and act as a calming influence on the big 'runs' that come into the harbour in gale force conditions. "It doesn't even have to be gale-force," said Ken. "If you get a south-easterly swell in certain tide conditions, you can get a run occurring in here big enough to damage things. Anyway, when they were tightening belts in war-time, they narrowed the channel at the bottom so they could use up some damaged pieces of timber and this narrowing had the effect of allowing the beams to float more. But they don't come out often - I can only remember it happening two or three times." "I'll tell you one thing," laughed Jim Allen who has lived in Porthleven all his life. "The timber's a lot better than the steel gates we had about 25 years ago. They only lasted two tides and were so bent and damaged they had to be cut out." Porthleven's problem is that the narrow, natural inlet faces south west, straight into the eye of the worst weather you can get roaring across Mount's Bay. A pier points nobly out to sea on the southerly side of the harbour mouth, but it can do little to prevent the waves from entering the outer sections of the port and building up into what Mr Milburn calls a run. Just past the Institute, the natural contours of the valley curve slightly to the north and this is where the Outer Harbour, with its own small outer quay, offers the first stages of protection. The community to the north of the inlet is called Breageside and it is here, near the Ship Inn, that a second quay forms the Inner Harbour where the boats are moored. You'll see the baulks of timber and the derrick on this quay, waiting for the weatherman to use the words south-westerly in conjunction with the term Gale Force. Just inside this quay are the fishing boats and it was here that I met skipper Robert Williams of the "Girl Penny" who had just been out, in what I thought was a horrible chop, to reap the harvest of his pots. He was kind enough to do us a good deal on a fiver's worth of crabs, but alas we were far too poor to even ask the value of the splendid eight-pound lobster which he proudly hauled ashore. "I remember the days when we could catch 100 of these in the 150 pots which we would put out," shrugged Robert looking down at his haul of about a dozen lobsters. "But a lot of them were really crayfish and we don't seem to get them anymore." I told him that I didn't envy him his work on a day when you could hear the surf booming at the harbour-mouth. "I'd be sick as a dog," I cringed. "I get sea-sick, suffered from it all my life," laughed the skipper. "Sometimes its worse than others. If the crew behave though, it doesn't tend to be so bad..." What about being caught out at sea when the weather's brewed up rough? "You can go to Newlyn, but the harbour master here will always radio to ask you if you're coming back or not. He's got to because its a Harbour of Refuge according to the Act of 1860." I asked Ken Milburn about the shutting of the Baulk: "You usually get plenty of warning of gales and I try to have a word with each crew before they go out to see if they intend coming back. Then, if things get worse, we'll radio each boat. If they say they're coming back, we'll wait 'til they do." None of this was necessary back in the 14th century when Breage on one side, and Sithney on the other, were tiny fishing hamlets surrounding a stream flowing into a small cove. A bar of shingle created the only protection for the tiny boats that worked out of here back then. Work on a proper harbour began in 1811 because of the increasing need for coal and supplies for local mines. It was a good time to start - soon there were plenty of prisoners from the Napoleonic wars to do the donkey work. But even with their help the development took 14 years to complete and was eventually opened in August 1825 with a feast of roast beef and plum pudding. 30 years later Harvey & Co of Hayle leased the harbour and built the inner basin so that trade could increase with imports of coal, limestone and timber and exports of tin, copper and china clay. From that time Porthleven became well-known as a ship-building port. Clippers, schooners and yachts were built in the big flat yard just behind the inner harbour in a trade that survived until the late 1970's. Much of the local fishing fleet, which crowded the harbour 120 years ago, must have been built just a few feet away. No fewer than 144 boats worked out of here in 1880 with a total crew of 583 men and boys. Hundreds of women and children were paid threepence an hour to salt and pack the large catches of pilchards which were processed along the harbour-side and, added to these, were the craftsmen making sails, nets, ropes and other equipment essential to the fleet. So thank goodness for William Bickford-Smith of Trevarno who, in 1883, spent a large sum on finding them all something to do with their spare time rather than drain the contents of bottles. He built his Literary Institute so that they could go down to the sea and have a thumping good read regardless of the tempest that would occasionally rattle the Baulk in this most pleasant of ports.