Kevin Rushby's Blog

The South West Coast Path’s ‘forgotten section’: the quiet pleasures of south-east Cornwall

The Rame peninsula, just west of Plymouth, is often bypassed by tourists these days, which makes its hidden coves and fine walking even more appealing

At the end of Downderry’s shingle and sand, there’s a tumble of rocks and then a long beach stretching eastwards into the distance at the foot of the cliffs. Sitting on the rocks is a man with five raffish dogs that immediately start prowling around me and my partner, Sophie. A wet nose touches my bare calf.

Every long-distance trek has these decisive moments. The South West Coast Path has plenty. Should we stay on the beach, or take to the cliff? What’s the tide doing? And, more immediately, are these dogs going to bite my bum? It has happened to me once before.

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Snowy peaks, orcas and an antique shop – the abandoned Norwegian fishing village that’s enjoying a revival

A handful of returning locals and adventurous tourists are breathing new life into Nyksund, a remote coastal outpost in Norway’s wild northwest

We land on a white sand beach under jagged black mountains. A sea eagle, surprised to see humans, flaps away over the only house with a roof on it – the rest are in ruins. “Hundreds of people used to live here,” says Vidar. “In the days when you had to sail or row, it was important to be near the fishing grounds. Now there’s just one summer cabin.”

Jumping out of the boat, we walk along the beach. My daughter, Maddy, points out some animal tracks. “The fresh marks are wild reindeer,” says Vidar. “The older ones could be moose – they come along here too.”

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Six of the best ferry crossings in the UK – from the Isles of Scilly to the Outer Hebrides

With unique views, fascinating history and opportunities for wildlife-spotting, taking a small boat across a river or to an island can be a holiday highlight

The hills of the Scottish Highlands were still in sight when the cry went up: “Whale!” And there it was, a humpback on the port side of the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry, blasting a great cloud of mist from its blowhole, then with a farewell flick of its tail, disappearing into the Atlantic. On other voyages you may see glorious sunsets, rare migratory birds, ruined castles and historic lighthouses. Unlike the classic road trip or the great railway journey, however, the humble ferry rarely makes it to anyone’s bucket list. They are a means to an end, only chosen by necessity. And yet, the UK has some of the best and most exhilarating voyages within its borders. From exciting river crossings to island odysseys that test the mettle of the best sea captains, these boat journeys can be the high point of any trip.

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‘Unlike anywhere else in Britain’: in search of wildlife on the Isles of Scilly

Whales and dolphins may have proved elusive, but the islands off Cornwall cannot fail to impress with their subtropical plants and Caribbean-like beaches

At Penzance South Pier, I stand in line for the Scillonian ferry with a few hundred others as the disembarking passengers come past. They look tanned and exhilarated. People are yelling greetings and goodbyes across the barrier. “It’s you again!” “See you next year!” A lot of people seem to be repeat visitors, and have brought their dogs along.

I’m with my daughter Maddy and we haven’t got our dog. Sadly, Wilf the fell terrier died shortly before our excursion. I’m hoping a wildlife-watching trip to the Isles of Scilly might distract us from his absence.

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In search of the UK’s finest mountain view: walking in Northern Ireland’s Mournes

Exploring the magical landscape that inspired Narnia and stars as a location in Game of Thrones – just an hour outside of Belfast

Where is the finest mountain panorama in the UK? As a nine-year-old I was taken up Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) and told it was the best. Even in those days, it was a struggle to see much except the backs of other people. The following summer Scafell Pike got the same treatment and the next year we climbed Ben Nevis. I disagreed on all counts. For me, Thorpe Cloud in Dovedale was unbeatable, despite it being under a thousand feet tall. What convinced me was the diminutive Derbyshire peak’s shape: a proper pointy summit with clear space all around, plus grassy slopes that you could roll down. The champion trio could not compare.

This panorama question is in my mind as I begin hiking up Slieve Donard, Northern Ireland’s highest peak (at 850 metres), but a mountain often forgotten by those listing their UK hiking achievements. And a proper peak it is too, with a great sweeping drop to the sea and loads of space all around, guaranteeing, I reckon, a view to beat its more famous rivals.

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‘On a peak under a blue sky’: the joy of summer in Europe’s mountains

Our writer recalls his favourite mountain experiences, from hard-won views to splendid isolation and the comforts of simple refuges

After a tough scramble to the summit of Rhinog Fach, we look down into the deep valley holding the chilly waters of Llyn Hywel, then west across several miles of heather, bilberry and bare rock to the Welsh coast. Turning my gaze north, there is the entire Llyn peninsula leading east to the peak of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon), no doubt weighed down by thousands of visitors. Up here there are just two of us in an utterly peaceful landscape. No clouds on the horizon. No surprises.

I lie down for a few minutes and feel myself drift off. There are no human voices to be heard, only birds. Summer has come early to these mountains and I wouldn’t be anywhere else, drinking in that particular kind of tranquillity to be found on a peak under a blue sky.

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Greek island of Zakynthos named most crowded resort in Europe

A new Which? Travel report on overtourism also cites Mallorca and Paris as destinations suffering from an influx of visitors, but some argue that bad behaviour is as much of a problem as numbers

In Great Yarmouth there are some signs of regeneration: the vast glass palace of the Winter Gardens is being refurbished and the ornate Cafe 1903 next to the historic Hippodrome is busy. But the bustling tourist industry of the Edwardian era is long gone. “When Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show came in 1903, the tent held 5,000,” says local historian Roger Silver. “A couple of years earlier the Bass Brewery brought 10,000 workers on a day trip from Burton upon Trent. It took 16 trains.”

Coincidentally, that is the same number of visitors who poured into the Italian mountain village of Roccaraso (population 1,500) in January, drawn by the presence of Tik Tok influencer Rita de Crescenzo. But the similarities end there. The Yarmouth invasion received no complaints, while the residents of Roccaraso reacted with horror. The mayor, Francesco Di Donato, threatened to call in the army.

Fears for Bagan’s towering Buddhist temples after Myanmar earthquake

City is close to Sagaing faultline and monuments were significantly damaged after the last earthquake in 2016

Rising through the mist of the forest at dawn, with spires reaching more than 200ft, few sights on earth have impressed travellers like the temples and pagodas of Bagan. “Jerusalem, Rome, Kiev, Benares,” wrote the Scottish journalist and colonial administrator James George Scott in 1910, “none of them can boast the multitude of temples, and the lavishness of design and ornament”.

Lying close to the major Sagaing fault line in the centre of Myanmar, the 2,200 11th-century Buddhist monuments have long been susceptible to seismic events. “The last earthquake in 2016 caused considerable damage to key monuments,” said Dr Stephen Murphy, a senior lecturer in Asian art at Soas University of London. He added that it was unclear whether Friday’s earthquake had caused a similar scale of damage.

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Castaway in Fife: exploring Robinson Crusoe country in east Scotland

The Fife coastal path connects the firths of Forth and Tay and takes in some of the country’s finest seaside villages, seascapes and the home of a famous literary castaway

Standing in a Scottish seaside village, I am confronted by two smart red doors and a curious figure standing in a niche above them: a man, one hand clutching a staff, the other shading his eyes as he gazes out to sea. There’s a flintlock pistol in his belt and he’s dressed in tattered rags. Is it a tribute to locals who survived a night out in Kirkcaldy? No, there is a weathered plaque that I can just read: “In memory of Alexander Selkirk, mariner, the original of Robinson Crusoe …”

This is the site of a cottage where Selkirk was born in 1676. And suddenly a long-forgotten melody starts to play in my head, a sweeping lyrical tune that I haven’t heard in half a century. It’s shocking to discover what treasure lies forgotten between my ears, this being the theme from The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, a German television series that was aired in the UK at the time of the Apollo 11 moon landings (and repeatedly until 1982). From the moment I saw it, I gave up plans to be an astronaut and decided to travel the world instead.

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Hiking in southern Italy: myths, mountains and wild boar in Cilento

South of the Amalfi Coast is a rugged wonderland of quiet paths through chestnut woods and vineyards. It’s all perfect for contemplating ancient yarns, spotting wildlife and enjoying local fare

In the silence of the chestnut woods, rays of sunlight ignite the patches of pink cyclamen and crocus. There are fungi of various kinds dotted around, including one that is a perfect sphere of bright orange pushing its way up out of earth. I sit on a rock and after a while I hear a gentle grunting noise, the sort of contented chunter made by a snorer having a light snooze. It’s not me. A pair of wild boar are approaching, moving through the shadows, noses down, short tails flicking continuously. It’s a mother and baby, so close I can see the dust on their backs. I move my hand towards the camera, but wily Old Ma spots the movement and they take off at a blistering pace, charging downhill, bristling with indignation.

I continue walking uphill, and after a mile or so stop at a paw print in a patch of mud. Large dog or wolf? There are no human boot marks that might accompany a canine. Nor is there anyone around to ask. Eventually, I reach a viewpoint on top of Monte Stella, the highest summit for many miles at 1,131 metres. Out west is the dark surface of the Tyrrhenian Sea where Odysseus reputedly battled his way home from Troy, narrowly surviving temptation by the dreaded Sirens at an island, Isola Licosa, just hidden from my view by the curve of the coastline. I can see as far as the distant ragged peninsula of Amalfi on the northern horizon but there are no ships in sight. I am alone.

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