Category Travel Writing
I’m running over Dinas Head, a cyan ocean sparkling below and the endless sands of Newport enticing in the distance. Not really, of course, because we’re in the middle of lockdown and I haven’t been further than two miles from… Continue Reading →
“It’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last” – A Long December, Counting Crows I’m crunching over endless white under endless blue, eyes half closed against the… Continue Reading →
This new rucksack has a lot to live up to, I think as I pack for a night in the hills. I’m rather partial to the 35L daypack I’ve been wearing thin for the last five years, to the point… Continue Reading →
Time slows in the Tywi Valley. Houses scatter, phones lose signal and more than once I’ve switched off the engine, mid-tarmac, to patiently wait for a mama sheep and her babies to stagger up from a sun-soaked doze and move… Continue Reading →
Summer slips into September; it seems only a few short weeks since I watched a shimmering solstice from a quiet beacon, yet somehow the equinox is almost here. Sunrises sharpen, leaves gently crispen and I wistfully pack away the light… Continue Reading →
Loyal readers and random visitors (hello, you’re welcome) may have noticed I’ve spent the summer on something of a mission; to complete my kit bag. The essentials have long been there – layers, waterproofs, first aid kits (human and hound),… Continue Reading →
I’m lying in bed in the T5, looking wistfully through the window at a gorgeous camping hut bathed in late evening sunshine. Lionel is lying on his bed, looking wistfully up at me. Lionel is in the dog house and… Continue Reading →
Some reviews write themselves. I could just say “I absolutely love this tent” and leave it at that, I really could. But hey, you say, we need to know why. So ok, here are some reasons! I’m on my… Continue Reading →
I’m zipping down the Helter Skelter, knuckles and several other parts of me white. I say ‘zipping’; I could probably hike faster, but when you haven’t done this for, oh, about 33 years, it feels as gravity defying as being… Continue Reading →
I walk on a record-breakingly hot day into the sun, the table-top ridge of Fan Hir and Brycheiniog silhouetting my destination. The upland slopes are still sloshy in spite of the lingering dry spell and I know I’m home, high… Continue Reading →
We’re heading to the only place in Wales that the teens don’t mind being without wifi. It’s Easter, which is synonymous with Rhandirmwyn, our favourite hideaway campsite deep in Carmarthenshire; so deep, it’s nearly in Ceredigion. I’ve actually heard of… Continue Reading →
Main photo: Tony Evans I’m on a hill, hands map-free, blissfully unsure of where we’re going. I have a map with me, of course, deep inside a rucksack pocket. It’s cheerfully vintage, having belonged to my lovely late father-in-law,… Continue Reading →
