Kipling & Clark | Our Corsica Overview Kipling & Clark | Our Corsica Overview 20041 (population 326,898) Oblivious to many tourists, Corsicans go about their daily lives fully unaware they live in one of the most beautiful and untouched islands in the Mediterranean. In addition to some of the best beaches in the Mediterranean, the contrasts in physical beauty here are impressive: alpine forests in the backdrop of the Alta Rocca Mountain Range (great walking trails crossing deep gorges and glacial lakes reaching 3,840 feet), countless quaint, ageless villages, and charming harbor towns, and a uniquely Corsican culture/food. We are grateful for the small number of high quality Corsican guides that serve our clients in this endearing land. With its first inhabitants dating back to 3000 BC, Greeks first colonized the island in 540 BC. The Greeks were succeeded by the Romans and subsequent waves of various invaders and raiders that made their mark on Corsica. Following successive harsh rule by several Mediterranean kingdoms, the city-state of Genoa gained undisputed control of Corsica around 1500.

In 1768, France acquired Corsica (the year before Napoleon’s birth in Ajaccio) and is officially designated as a Special Constitutional State region of France. Very proud of their heritage, Corsicans refer to France as “Le Continent.” Nationalist sentiment is rooted in a deep, personal love for Corsica and is expressed through the teaching of the Corsican language (Corsu) in schools, or even through FLNC (Front de la Liberation Nationale de la Corse) slogans on public signs and buildings. FLNC was a former military group advocating succession from France and the establishment of the independent state of Corsica The Gulf of Porto, UNESCO World Heritage Site Corsica’s Moors Head The Moors Head has become the emblem of Corsica and can be seen on flags throughout the island. Any locally produced goods, official buildings, Corsican owned boats, properties and aircraft carry this symbol and all Corsican political parties (whatever the strength of their Nationalist tendencies) also use the emblem. In some specific cases it may represent a stronger Nationalist/Autonomist leaning, but is generally a simple statement of pride in their country.

The symbol dates back to the 13th century, when the Aragonese were given rights over Corsica by the Pope after their victory over the Saracens. They portrayed their acquisition by the Moor’s Head. It was however, forgotten in Corsica during the subsequent Genoese occupation when the Virgin Mary (the patron Saint of Corsica) was used to symbolism Corsica. In the 18th century the German adventurer, Theodor Von Neuhof (who became king of Corsica for 6 months in 1736) chose the forgotten Moor’s Head as the National flag. Twenty years later it was re-established as the official Corsican flag by the great Corsican patriot, Pascal Paoli who insisted that the bandanna was moved from its original position covering the eyes (to the forehead) in order to symbolize the liberation of Corsica. Domaine de Murtoli (RL) This is an exclusive, picturesque 4,900 acre private estate and working farm, set on the southern tip of Corsica. The closest towns are Sartene and Figari (location of Figari-Sud Corse Airport).

The sixteen 17th century style shepherd cottages have been meticulously restored to rustic luxury villas (sleeping 2-13). All have large, wood-burning fireplaces, timbered ceilings, fully-equipped kitchens, and even wine cellars. Add to that private swimming pools and amazing views, and you have a unique, Corsican luxury getaway. Dining includes two very nice restaurants, including La Plage, a terraced seaside restaurant. Many outdoor activities including hiking, horseback riding, golf, fishing, and a nice, though understated, seaside spa for blissful relaxation. A recent family client very much enjoyed picking their own fruits and vegetables from the estate garden. Please note a 4×4 vehicle is required to access each villa and the estate, based on the rough, dirt roads. La Villa Calvi (RL) Set atop a hillside among lush gardens overlooking Calvi harbor, we feel La Villa to be the only real 5-star luxury hotel in Calvi. Most of the property’s 52 rooms/suites offer panoramic views of the striking 15th century built Genoese citadel, harbor, and beaches.

All rooms are designed in a minimalist-inspired aesthetic, including whitewashed walls and polished wood floors. Amenities include 5 swimming pools (!), clay tennis courts, full service spa, and fitness center. The hotel’s Michelin Star “La Table by La Villa” restaurant is among the best in Calvi. Sant’Antonio The oldest inhabited village in Corsica and considered one of the most beautiful villages in all of France. The village offers 360 views of the surrounding countryside and coast. Colorful village made up of reddish-orange roofed stone houses, set high in the Alta Rocca. Sainte Lucie de Tallano Mountain village with a small, quaint main square and handful of great restaurants. Famous for its olive oil. Vallee du Tavignano (Corte area) Located in Corsica’s deepest gorge, the car-free area of Vallee du Tavignano is only accessible by foot and remains off the beaten path. From Corte, the sign posted track leads to the Passarelle de Rossolino foot bridge reached after an approx 2.5 hour hike. This is a blissful place for a picnic with plentiful green and natural pools for wading!

Les Calanques de Piana (Between Ajaccio and Cali in the Gulf of Porto) This amazingly beautiful area adjoining the sea is made up of strangely-shaped pink and ginger-colored boulders, sculpted cliffs and awe-inspiring vistas. The rock-riddled 10k (6 mile) hike stretches between Porto and the pretty/quaint Village of Piana (population 500). Many picturesque switchbacks and otherworldly terrain to enjoy! Travel News & Active European Holiday Inspiration | Timeless Med: News & Inspiration Travel News & Active European Holiday Inspiration The latest travel news, interviews, traveller reviews, inspiration & advice on walking and cycling holidays in the UK and Europe.. The appeal of a Mediterranean holiday is timeless. The three islands off the western coast of Italy – Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica – offer a diversity of iconic landscapes and memorable festivals. Either with your family, your partner or a group of friends, the gastronomy and landscapes of Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica will almost certainly appeal to your fellow travellers.

Whether you want to get up close to Europe’s tallest active volcano in Sicily, swim in Sardinia’s emerald waters or explore Corsica, the most mountainous Mediterranean island, there are several trips to the islands departing in August, September and October. And to help you make a choice, below we’ve listed some of the best events and festivals to the islands for you! SARDINIA Right in the heart of the Mediterranean Sea, Sardinia is famous for its natural beauty. The island is a cyclist’s paradise with a network of quiet roads hugging a rugged coastline. People visit Sardinia for its hospitable people, exceptional cuisine and a unique culture that includes its own dialect. Why go to Sardinia in August? 1st Sunday in August: Vermentino Wine Festival | In the centuries old wine village of Monti. 7 August: The Archers Tournament | 24 archers dressed in medieval outfits join the tournament in Iglesias. 8-16 August: Time In Jazz | The island’s annual international jazz festival takes place in Berchidda. 14 August: Fireworks and Fried Fish | A firework display in Alghero that is followed by eating fried fish.

August: XXVI Summer Music | Daily live music concerts in the Chiostro di San Francesco that celebrate Sardinia’s classical music in Alghero. ©gigi murru Why go to Sardinia in September? 6-7 September: Corsa degli Scalzi | A commemoration of the 16th century rescue of a holy statue in the lagoon town of Cabras, it’s an 8km run with the statue from the beach back into town. 17-25 September: Round Sardinia Race | A sailing race that starts and finishes in the port of Cagliari and makes a circle around the island. 29 September: Festa Sant Miquel | The villagers of Alghero celebrate their patron saint with fireworks and parades. September until early December: Autunno in Barbagia | A celebration of local food, handicraft and cultural traditions of the towns and villages in the mountainous Barbagia region. Why visit Sardinia in October? 30 October: Sagra della Castagne | Head to Aritzo to join the village’s annual chestnut fair. In Sardinia, enjoy gentle walks and explore secluded bays by bicycle.

Discover lighthouses and ancient watchtowers on long sandy beaches, taste the clear spring water of the Montiferru Mountains, swim through rock arches and watch the sunset turn the limestone cliffs yellow and pink… Go walking in Sardinia with Sherpa Expeditions or find out about our cycling in Sardinia holiday . SICILY ©manuel MC Sicily has two impressive volcanoes: Stromboli and Etna. Their presence has shaped island life and travellers can bathe in therapeutic hot mud, relax on the black beaches and take in panoramic views across the Mediterranean Sea. Why visit Sicily in August? 1 July – 4 September: Calatafimi Segesta Festival | Lots of theatre performances, and concerts of jazz and classical music in and around the Greek theatre of Segesta. 12-14 August: Norman Palio | A festival held on Palermo’s Piazza Armerina to commemorate the moment Sicily was liberated from the Sarecens by Roger de Hauteville in 1071. 13-15 August: Renaissance Music Festival | A music festival in the village of Erice set on the top of a mountain when top renaissance and medieval music is performed.

17 August: Festival of Saint Agatha | Catania city’s most important religious festival related to the city’s patron saint Agatha of Sicily. 24 August: Festa di St Bartolomeo | Lipari, one of the Aeolian islands just off the shore of Sicily, celebrates their patron saint Bartolomeo with stunning fireworks. Why go to Sicily in September? 13-27 September: Festa della Vendemmia | A festival in Piedimonte Etneo that is devoted to the grape harvest. There are wine tastings, wine-making demonstrations, and of course lots of food. 16-25 September: CousCous Fest | This festival in San Vito Lo Capo attracts international chefs who join a competition in preparing couscous, of course accompanied by live music, dancing, and a very positive vibe. 29 September – 2 October: Sherbet Festival | Held in Palermo, this is a festival that dedicates four days to sorbets and ice creams. ©Fatabugiarda Why go to Sicily in October?

1-10 October: Sagra del Miele | The famous ‘honey of Hyblea’ was much loved by the Romans and Greeks in their days. The locals of Sortino (next to Pantalica National Park) honour the miele (honey) in October each year. Take your chance to get close to the island’s impressive volcanoes on a walking holiday to Sicily . CORSICA Dense maquis mountain ridges and granite peaks soar to 2,700m to create a rugged terrain. This is Corsica. Why visit Corsica in August? 2-5 August: Porto Latino | In St Florent, join this Latin-American music festival in the village’s citadel. 5-7 August: Foire de l’Amandier | This annual festival marks the almond harvest with cooking demonstrations of Corsican dishes, tastings and painting exhibitions – it takes place in Aregno. 5-7 August: Musica Classica | A classical music festival in Santa Reparata di Balagna in an open-air setting. 15 August: Assumption de Marie | This is an important festival that is celebrated all over Corsica to mark the passage of Virgin Mary into heaven.

16-17 August: Fiera di U Nuciola | If the almond has its own festival, the hazelnut should have too! The festival takes place in the square of Cervione. Why travel to Corsica in September? 3-11 September: Festival du Tango | Add some days to join the tango festival in Bonifacio’s old Citadel with guitarists, dancers, street performers and lots of food. 9-13 September: U Mele in Festa | If you like to take part in one of Corsica’s oldest celebrations, join this festival of honey in Murzu to honour Virgin Mary. 13-17 September: Rencontres de Chants Polyphoniques de Calvi | International polyphonic singers take to the stage in Calvi’s citadel. 14 September: Festa di u Ficu | In the village of Peri, join this festival celebrating the harvest of figs. It’s in the north east of Ajaccio. Why visit Corsica in October? 29 September – 2 October: Tour de Corse | A FIA world rally that starts in Bastia this year and finishes in Porto-Vecchio.

There are many laps that go through the island’s narrow villages so you’re sure to enjoy superb views. ©JeanbaptisteM On Sherpa’s Corsica walking holiday , start in Corte’s old town in the heart of the mountains and cross the north-south watershed onwards to the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea and the iconic rock formations of Les Calanches. For more information on these festivals or our cycling and walking holidays in Corsica, Sicily and Sardinia, have a look at the specific trip notes or contact our team of travel experts in London. Related Posts Picture This! Summer Walking in Norway The Fjordland in Norway is a fantastic area to visit in the summer months of July-September. The area is dotted with traditional villages, glaciers, some fantastic peaks up to 1900m, and of course the fjords with dramatic views that Norway is so well-known for. But summer in this Scandinavian country can also look very different...! Here's some stunning images of some of the sights you'll pass on our walking trip in Norway. >> Handsome town houses of the prosperous Norwegian old village of Aurland. Lovely and quiet to wonder through on a summer’s afternoon.

The town honours deer by a statue in the town's centre, there is a small museum and of course cafes with freshly brewed coffee to start your day's walk. >> At the end of the cruise from Flam to Gudvangen you spill out the boat to an area where local Vikings are doing carvings in wood. >> Approaching Aurland by the ferry, the Sognefjord stretches out in glassy beauty to a bend where it meets a back wall of huge mountains. We normally stay in a nice and friendly hotel just a street back from the waterfront. >> The Sognefjord has lots of boat sheds from where the locals can go out fishing. >> Nesbo is a tiny hamlet on the Aurland gorge walk between Østerbø and Vassbygdi. Crossing a tiny bridge, one walks into the farm which is suspended from the side of the gorge. It is the ideal time for sandwiches. >> Geilojordet is a street of traditional and old housing from around the area. Most of these old Norwegian houses that were saved, were moved and reassembled piece by piece in this street - usually because new developments threatened them. Some date from the 1600s.

The villagers sometimes hold cultural events on the grass in front of the houses. >> Hardangervidda Plateau. It is summer, but the plateau is still covered with snow and of course glaciers. This is close to the town of Finse and the big boulders have been brought down by glaciers from somewhere else. Notice the little green tent in between the boulders? When researching our self-guided walking trip the hotel was closed, so we had to overnight in this tent. Although somewhat cold at the time, it was beautiful waking up to peaceful Norway in the morning! >> A footpath sign directing you up through the ‘Priest hole.’ This walk is perhaps the best walk you can do in the Geilo area on a clear day and gives you the opportunity to climb the Prestholskarvet (1863m). A climb of some six hundred metres on at times steep and loose terrain, up to the great Hallingskarvet plateau with some truly fantastic views. >> I am not sure of the origin of these boulders on a farm at Skjerdal. Are they prehistoric siting stones?

It is likely they were placed there by man in antiquity, but it is not so many thousand years ago that the Ice Age bit deep into the landscape of Norway. >> Early summer landscape from the peak of Sankt Paul (1694m), although located in the heart of Norway, it's mischievously named after the London cathedral. In all honesty we think it doesn’t look anything like it, but the views with the clouds bellowing over the snow are dramatic. >> Seagull eye view of Aurland from the ferry that goes from Flam in the Sognefjord. One of the World’s most dramatic locations? If you like to experience the summer in Norway as well and want to see the spectacular landscapes, glaciers and charming Norwegian towns for yourself, our 8-day self-guided walking holiday to the Fjordland departs daily from mid-July until the end of September. For more information you can download the trip notes or get in touch with our team of experts .

New Trip to Italy’s South: Beyond Amalfi Lays Cilento For anyone wanting to experience what is beyond Italy’s most popular stretch of coastline, in 2017 you can explore a new part of Italy’s south: the Cilento National Park. A new walking holiday takes you to the lesser-known Cilento Coast, on the Gulf of Salerno’s southern shore, the natural extension of the famous Amalfi Coast . There is more to the Amalfi Coast than Positano, Ravello, endless sips of limoncello and crowded walking paths. Concentrating on Cilento, Italy’s largest national park, the new self guided trip is a short walking break designed to appeal to anyone who wants to experience ‘the other side of Amalfi’. A place which in many ways exists in its own time warp, little visited Cilento remains largely undisturbed by the 21st century. In Roman Times, Cilento was known as Campania Felix – or ‘happy land’! The walk takes you along rocky ridges, richly scented pinewoods and centuries-old olive trees and intersperses with quaint fishing villages, medieval farm houses and traditional water mills.

Stay in an ancient convent and enjoy quiet and remote walking in a stunning, yet less known, pocket of Italy. Highlights include: Take in the wild beauty of the Cilento Coast, with rocky ridges set between small picturesque inlets and richly scented pinewoods backing onto wide sandy beaches and serene Italian fishing villages Witness the traditional way of life as you visit medieval borghi (fortified hilltop villages), rural chapels and ancient farm houses in Cilento National Park Enjoy sumptuous, drenched-in-olive-oil banquets – homemade pasta, locally sourced ingredients and wines from the somewhat unusual (but very amenable) aglianico grape Follow the old mule track to the ‘Valley of the Mills’, named after the many medieval watermills that once dotted the course of the stream Cross the ‘Alta Via’ along the Monte Stella ridge, past the Chapel of Monte Stella and through chestnut woods to the abandoned, pre-Roman fortress of Castelluccio Admire panoramic views of the Amalfi Coast and the island of Capri – on a clear day you may even catch a glimpse of Sicily if you look south!

Visit the archaeological site Paestum – famous for its Doric-order temples, the museum in Italy preserves a unique Diver’s Tomb, a prime example of Greek funerary painting. Take the new Cilento Coast and Mountain trip in Italy either as a standalone short break or as an extension to our 8 and 11-day Amalfi itineraries . For more information on Cilento National Park and to speak with one of our travel consultants, there are various ways to contact us . Travellers’ Tale: Walking in Norway, The Fjordland “We have been enthusiastic expeditioners for more than 30 years” say Australians Kerry Mather and Lachlan McCaw. Last summer they embarked on our Fjordland walking holiday in Norway with their daughter Darcie. In recent years they undertook a wide variety of walking throughout Australia including mountains, coastal areas and the remote arid interior of Western Australia. Living in the south-west of Western Australia they regularly take the opportunity to explore sections of the Bibbulmun Track .

They didn’t stick to Australia: “Our overseas walking exploits have included an extended trek from Kashmir into Ladakh, the Milford Track in the South Island of New Zealand, and multi-day walks in the Pyrenees and Dinaric Alps of central Bosnia,” says Lachlan. Their 20-year-old daughter accompanied them on the Norway walking holiday and really enjoyed the experience of a tour like this as well. Why did you choose to walk in the Fjordlands in Norway? Our travel plans included visiting friends in Denmark, exploring southern Norway and Sweden, and spending time in Finland for a professional conference. Past experience has confirmed that including a challenging outdoor activity in our travel schedule adds greatly to the enjoyment and understanding of the country that we are visiting. Western Norway is renowned for stunning scenery of mountains and fjords, and the opportunity to stand on the summit of a sub-arctic mountain and gaze across glaciers and icefields was a strong drawcard. The Sherpa Expeditions Fjordland self-guided walking holiday offered a variety of walking experiences with interesting accommodation venues linked conveniently by public transport.

“The long mid-summer days in the Norwegian mountains were a special treat.” Walking Bavaria's King Ludwig Way Walking Bavaria's King Ludwig Way Join us as Sherpa Expeditions guide and adventurer, Will Copestake takes a journey into the forests and hills of Bavaria on the King Ludwig Way. This extensive account of his journey gives a great insight into the wonders you can expect on this approachable walking into the heart of Bavaria. Find out more about Will and his exciting adventures or learn more about our Bavaria: King Ludwig's Way walking holiday. DAY ONE The enticing smell of freshly baked pretzels floated through warm rays of an early morning sun which crept through the ornate lace curtains of my hotel bedroom. Down an extravagant staircase ornately decorated with portraits of King Ludwig I could hear the clatter of cutlery and morning chatter. I had arrived to the Beyrisher Hof hotel long after dark the night before, a delayed flight leading to a delayed start.

Outside the glistening waters of the Starnberger See (Lake Starnberg) rippled behind the town to which the lake is named; I was eager to get going, to get out and start the 107 km ribbon of culture and landscape that makes up the King Ludwig Way. Stuffed to bursting point on a feast of cold meats, cheese and pastries I began the hike at more of a waddle than a walk. Leaving the hotels wonderful hospitality I set off to find the docks; my journey would begin by boat. All aboard and underway I sat atop the open deck of the boat; with ornate decorations and an onboard bar filled with sweet pastries the ferry resembled more a luxury cruise liner than public transport; the journey had begun in style. At the second stop I hopped onto the docks and into a small village named Leoni and set about searching for the official start to the way. Most hikers choose to take the 11 km journey to Starnberg on the day of arrival, I had oped to combine it with ‘day 2’ to make a lengthy 31 km day.

I had to make sure I made the ferry at the end of the walk by 5 pm in order to reach my room for the night. Quiet winding roads soon lead uphill before detouring into a spectacular beech forest, here the trees grew far taller than I was used to in wind battered Scotland. The air was filled with a delightful smell of earthy undergrowth and rang with birdcall from the canopies above; stepping from the road into such a world of green seemed so sudden; it was almost as if I had entered Narnia. A small white sign with the bearded silhouette of King Ludwig pointed toward a church somewhere ahead between the trees; ‘The Votivkapelle.’ A romantic idealist King Ludwig was instated as king of Bavaria in 1864 at just 19 years old, he became renowned for his spectacular building projects; his castles still able to strike awe and wonder to those who visit, but alas it was at their tremendous cost that eventually lead to his downfall. Two days after being removed from the throne Ludwig and his personal doctor were discovered washed ashore on the Starnberger See; a mysterious end to the romantic eccentric.

It it this very spot where the king’s body was found that the memorial Votivkapelle church now stands; the impressive and ornately carved building to reflect his visions of grandeur dwarfs the modest cross upon the shore. For me this cross marked more than the passing of a king, it was the official beginning to the way. Leaving the church for a wide track I continued through the woods toward Starnberg. Narrow roads and lakeside trails lead to and fro from town to water’s edge; the already hot morning air tempting a dip in the cool water. Before long a series of tall wooden bridges spanning two canals lead my track back toward the centre of Starnberg, I had returned to the docks to which I had set forth earlier in the day. I was officially onto the route of ‘Day 2’ toward Diessen. Followed by loud booms of impending thunder I set out from town under the guidance of small blue ‘K’ symbols, the way markers to the route would become my companion for days to come. Tall wooden beamed houses soon faded into fields chirping with crickets.

I was aiming toward the gentle Maising gorge which ran along the path of what once had been a glacier into the distant woods. Passing a small white chapel of St. Mary I left sight of the town behind. Once again the crickets faded into birdsong as I crept into the tall beech woods. A small brook gurgled at my side as I meandered through the forest. Light dabbled upon the side of the path and often I would catch a glimpse of rainbow trout lazily drifting through the calm waters. Passing below a tall road bridge the trail wound uphill, the stream now falling in trickling waterfalls from nearby Maising village. Maising town itself was a quiet and attractive collection of red roofed houses and barns, the bright tiles still crackled with the heat after the passing thunder storm. At the side of a small pub at the top of the road I set off into the open fields. Behind the golden swathes of wheat another tremendous boom-clap echoed across the plains, time to find shelter!

Taking refuge inside the Maisinger Seehof Gastaette (Inn) I watched the rain pass by in a quick yet intense curtain, sipping a lunchtime weissbier (wheat beer) I waited for the sun to return. As it passed to leave the ground smelling with the earth scent of petrichor I stopped to watch herons and waders dabble between reeds in a mirror calm lake to my side, above in the woods I caught to my delight a fleeting glimpse of a greater spotted woodpecker. Passing into the town of Aschering I stopped to admire the first of many churches to come. A tall white and red testament to Bavarian architecture it was a beautiful sight before the dark clouds behind. Nearby a tall blue and white striped maypole towered over the houses, adorned with the traditional signs shaped to mimic the professions of the local residents; a fish, an anvil, a tractor, a plough, an axe all gave an insight into how the locals made their living. As the tractor and plough on the maypole might have suggested I soon found myself wandering uphill through large maize fields and shortly into a dense pine wood.

This time the coniferous forest laid a colourful array of various mushrooms to admire like jewels aside the trail. Before long a tall spire appeared beyond the trees, I was eagerly waiting to catch a glimpse of the famous Andechs monastery yet this was not it, the remains of a monastery were now the annex to Andechs prison … possibly the most scenic place to loose ones freedom I have ever seen. Beyond the tall barbed fences lay open fields and distant townships which rolled into the afternoon haze. Passing the white walls of the Andechs Monastery I peered in to glimpse a small chapel, despite being built in 1455 only to be confiscated by the state in 1803 the monastery had retained much of is original grandeur, however the most impressive sight lay ahead. Beyond the gently snaking path, beyond the 14 small white shrines to represent the stations of the cross, beyond the fields and trees a tower stood. The tall pointed spire of the Andechs church rose like a needle from the top of a steep hill, it dominated the skyline all around it to display its colourful salmon pink walls and copper bulbous top.

Following cobbled roads and a bustling crowd of others who had gathered to admire the spectacular church I climbed uphill to the base of the spire. The tall walls dwarfed the other buildings of the small township, inns and cafes lined the streets to fill the air with a delicious scent of warm baked bread. Munching on a pretzel lunch I passed the church under flocks of crows which soared above, somewhere in the valley ahead lay Herrsching and my ferry. Descending into a steep sided gorge I followed the last boundary of the church walls, back in woodland I enjoyed the shelter of the thick beech canopy as the heavens opened once more. Intense rain clattered through the branches to scatter across the track ahead, I made a dash toward town. With just 10 minutes to spare before the ferry arrived at the dock I arrived at the shore. The bustling town of Herrsching was the largest I had passed since Starnberg. Lines of cafes and inns stretched from the pier up the main high street, the occasional small church seemed lost amongst the bustle of life rumbling up and down the narrow roads. The rain had passed leaving colourful reflections in puddles to enjoy as I waited to board.

Sat inside next to a warm heater and holding a cool Weissbier I enjoyed watching thick curtains of rain cast across the lake at a comfortable distance, the smooth water seeming to swallow the dark clouds into a soft hue. In the distance I watched as the tall bulbed church tower amidst the town of Diessen drew closer. Passing a scenic dock covered in fishing nets and cork floats I wound into Diessen in search of the Seefelder Hof Hotel. Hidden between the colourful array of narrow streets the large traditional hotel came into view. Greeted with the friendliest of welcomes I was delighted to be ushered into a cosy room and to be announced that they served the best food in town. With a dinner of pork medallions cooked to absolute perfection on a bed of local wild mushrooms and spatzle (a traditional pasta) the owner was right; without a doubt the best meal I have had in a long time. I enjoyed the night in the fine company of a group of Australians; fellow hikers who would follow the same route as I for the upcoming days. Watching the sun set into an orange haze over the silhouette of the church I set in to bed with the promise of good weather and an eagerness to continue.

DAY TWO An early yet relaxed start saw the day begin with another waddle, so far each day the spread of meats, cheeses and pastries had grown increasingly extravagant; needless to say I had devoured far more calories than I would surely burn. I set off with the hope to enjoy a gentle walk toward the next townships with the hope of stopping to admire the many churches along the way. The narrow streets wound uphill toward a church which stood between colourful houses. Adorned with crosses or ornately carved balconies many of the houses sported spectacularly ornate frescoes upon the walls painted with a little extra gold in the morning sun. The Marienmuenster Church was the first church of the day. Beneath its towering walls and tall steeple was a small wooden door; to my delight with a gentle push and loud creak it swung open. I stepped inside to the echo of my own footprints across the stone walls. An incredible fresco was adorned across the roof yet somehow seemed lost in the veritable feast for the eyes that was the rest of the decoration. Golden pillars, vines and ornate carvings covered every shelf, wall and windowsill.

Pinks and reds, golds and yellow; every surface held something to look at be it an angel, a cross or a gigantic baroque alter. To describe it as a jewel would be understating the colours and spectacle. I had intended to visit but for a few minutes but to take in every angle took well over half an hour; by the time I stepped back outside I had to squint to adjust back to the dazzling sun. Leaving Diessen behind I ventured from houses into rolling fields, hoping to glance a first view of the Alps I was slightly disappointed to see the 98% humidity clouding the view into a dull haze, on the positive I could just make out the Andechs monastery which I had passed the day before. Beyond more farm houses and barns I wandered into a new stretch of thick beech forest. I was now following a children's nature trail, instead of blue K signs I was guided by yellow footprints sprayed on the trees and track. A chance sighting with a deer, a fleeting glance of a jay and a long stare at a luminously orange slug kept the natural theme alive as I went.

Once in a while a small shrine would appear lurking between the branches, each would have an ornately carved cross or virgin Mary within and often held a still flickering candle devotedly lit. With open doors and wooden pews I took their advantage to stop and enjoy a quick rest between tramping along the wide forest track. It was almost a surprise as I emerged so quickly from wood back into field, the transition so swift it enhanced the views. Open prairies led ahead with a ribbon of tarmac road to follow, lonely barns stood between occasional tall oak trees between the wheat. Occasionally I would pass fields of curious cattle, their bells chiming musically as they flocked to have a look at their strange new visitor. Their bells were soon lost to the rustle of leaves in the wind as I returned to the woods. Back on wide forestry trails I descended to discover a deep gully and a ford to cross a small stream. The water was a refreshing spot to enjoy a quick snack and listen to nearby wrens warbling from the banks. Ahead I was in search of the town of Wessobrun.

Leaving the forest to hop around a large black snake which was baking in the hot morning breeze I set off perhaps a little more cautiously toward the distant red roofs of town. A tall church steeple promised the chance to explore another ornately decorated wonder. As I arrived at the monastic buildings I was set to enter and explore; suddenly out of nowhere an elderly man approached. In good English he announced ‘I am the local watch maker, I must check the bells…would you like to have a look?’ gesturing to follow he lead ahead toward the locked doors of a nearby bell tower. I had no idea what to expect, this was not the usual guided tour as was offered in the church but a chance to explore ‘behind the scenes.’ With clunking turn of a heavy iron key and a loud creak of heavy hinges I was led inside. The room was small with a narrow dusty staircase leading into the floors above. The silence seemed to be dampened with each step reverberating into the wooden beams and cobwebs above, I climbed and ducked through a hatch into the next room.

Here a large glass box stood in the centre of the wooden floor, inside was an beautifully engineered clock; the glass allowed the chance to gaze upon all its inner workings with delightful ease. The man explained how he had to check the timings were right every day, he expressed the importance that the bells rung exactly at the hour. Hanging above our heads were a series of tremendous weights which swung gently as he wound them high into the rafters, somewhere above the wires led to the bells. As he tightened some cogs and wound some dials the watchmaker glanced at the time; we have a few minutes, he exclaimed with a wry smile, come on, lets go up to the bells..I followed through increasingly narrow staircases to reach the very top of the tower. Four heavy brass bells hung in a row silently awaiting the heavy blow of the hammer in the imminent minute. The watchmaker put his fingers in his ears….any second now. A clunk from below, a whir of cogs and a whizz of wires; the hammer struck!

A deafening ring of the four bells exploded from the strike, the room seemed to reverberate, the dust shook on the stone windowsills and a flurry of startled pigeons burst from the rafters. In 10 short seconds the deafening sound rang out. Beaming from ear to ear (both of which were now ringing) I retraced back down the ladders and stairs to emerge into the warm sun once again, as quickly as he arrived the watchmaker shook my hand, nodded and left. Left with the excitement of the bells I wandered inside to explore the impressive rococo decorations of the main monastery. Here there was no dust nor cobwebs but an extravagant array of gold leaf, marbled paintings and incredible frescoes on the walls, the display was too much to take in in a single glance and enticed the urge to linger. Extraordinary! With a sweet pastry in hand from the local gasthof I headed toward a gorge, following a trail marked with a large cow painted like the German flag I descended into another fine woodland. Before long I was back on the open country roads and heading fast toward the small farming hamlet Metzgengasse. Ahead on the trail I could see the Australians also walking the trail.

Passing tall maize fields we walked together into the township, ahead another tall bulbous spire of the St. Leonhard church promised the chance to admire more rococo decorations. In similar fashion to the Wessobrun monastery the interior was a feast for the eyes, detailed paintings, gold leaf and marbled walls were overlooked with a spectacular ceiling depicting another heavenly scene. I chose to linger to enjoy the church a little longer and left the Australians to push on ahead. Alone again on the quiet country roads I set my sights on the distant rise of the Hohenpeissenberg Hill - the final push for the day before descending into Rigialm for dinner. The road soon jointed onto a seemingly endless straight forest trail, to each side tall pines and occasional beech trees rung with crickets and evening bird song. Over the tops of the trees the sight of the church atop the hill and the impending rumble of thunder over haze hidden alps helped to spur me onward. At the edge of the forest I emerged onto a busy road at the base of the Hohenpeissenberg Hill, a short yet steep 200 m climb to reach the summit loomed ahead, a tiring stretch after a lengthy hike.

Passing farmyards onto a narrow root covered trail I found myself in the Australian party’s company yet again. In the beautiful forest I enjoyed the occasional shrine erected to provide an excellent excuse to rest against the incline, the curses from those beside were soon muted with the promise of a cafe at the summit. At the summit the Gasthof Bayerischer Rigi provided shelter from a torrential thunderstorm downpour; with a well-deserved coffee we dried out and enjoyed discussing the events of our day. As the storm abated I set out to explore the interior of the hilltop church which was built in 1619. Yet more beautiful carvings, paintings and gold greeted my arrival, a small painting near the alter purportedly had miracle healing powers; I joked with the Australians that they should get their blisters healed. The promise of a spectacular view across to the alps was dampened in the clouds, however below the hillside the town of Hohenpeibenberg greeted our arrival and the promise to rest for the days ahead.

Despite the rain the spectacle of wispy cloud hovering atop the pine woods below was a fine view indeed; in all the greenery it was strange to think that at over 900 m I was standing in the region of the highest hills of Scotland. Leaving the hill behind we descended together through thick woodland. The path zigzagged upon itself in steep switchbacks to arrive into fields and then town. A final few kilometres along the road soon brought us to the Rigi Alm hotel. A quick change of clothes later and we were whisked back up to the Gasthof Bayerischer Rigi on the top of the hill, it was the only place open on a Tuesday for dinner. A tremendous plate of cheesy spatzl, beef and mushrooms ensured any energy spent through the day was soon recouped, after coffees and a weissbier we returned back to the hotel to get ready for the morning. DAY THREE The rain had passed through the night to leave a thick fog and cold morning dew on the grass outside. As I devoured another tremendous plate of salami, cheese and pates on freshly baked bread I watched a hummingbird moth dart across the flows beside the dining room window; its colour seemed exaggerated in the dull grey mist.

I set off at a fast pace to try and warm up in the brisk air, soon meeting with two of the Australians we set off together toward a gorge; the locals had prepared us with the announcement it was ‘Bavaria’s Grand canyon’ we three were eager to discover it for ourselves. Although the mist shrouded any hope of a view it did seem to bring out the colours in the bright mosses and mushrooms along the woodland floor. Following a narrow wooded track we soon stumbled upon an elderly man picking mushrooms for his dinner; he eagerly showed us his bag of ‘Stone Mushrooms’ which closely resembled British ceps, they looked very tasty! For the rest of the woodland wander I found my eye focused upon the various fungi with the question ‘can I eat it’ echoing in the back of my mind. . . I always assumed probably not. Soon giving in to a steep slow we switch backed to and fro toward the Ammer river which could be heard rumbling somewhere below behind a wall of trees. I was eager to be at the water’s edge in anticipation of a potentially vertigo enduring route ahead.

Through muddy trails and thick brash we found our way onto a revealingly wide forestry track; to our side the milky blue water of the river gurgled down the valley. My attention still focused on looking for mushrooms quickly became enthralled in a whole different natural wonder. As we walked along the water’s edge I started to notice an increasing number of fallen trees at the side of the path, there seemed to be little method in their felling; it was then that I realised who, or should I say what had done it! The base of each tree had not been cut by saw but by tooth. It was the hallmarks of the Eurasian Beaver! With excitement and delight we spent a keen half hour sneaking around the flooded reeds and trees in search of a sighting; alas they proved characteristically illusive. The bonus of seeing a native black squirrel however made the explore worthwhile. Delighted to have seen my first ever signs of beaver activity I took extra spring in each step as I walked toward the steepening sides of the gorge upstream. We soon arrived at a scenic roofed bridge which spanned the Ammer.

This was our turning point uphill, away from the waters’ edge and onward onto boardwalk and narrow bridges, the chance to catch a higher vantage beckoned. Investigating an intriguing natural limestone terrace which was covered in thick moss and colourful fallen leaved I enjoyed the chance to break from the steep steps. The path had climbed short but fast high into the woods. A little way ahead the steps gave way to iron boardwalks which clung to steep sided slopes. We soon reached a small picnic bench and the chance for a mid-morning picnic. As we continued the path wound between the tall bare trunks of beech trees, the undergrowth was thick with ferns and mosses. In the flat light the greens seemed vibrant and the cool blue of the river seemed strangely inviting. Our path began to wind steeper and steeper; the trail grew muddy and narrow. Boardwalks and bridges became more common, the narrow trail seeming to simply drop away toward the river below. I found amusement that the old bridges now replaced lay ominously below as if to remind the hiker how far the drop would plummet. Between the branches rocky outcrops jutted out over the undergrowth.

We had entered a world so different to the rolling fields of the last two days which seemed so much more beautiful as result. The path twisted, dropped and rose between the trees. Occasionally steeper descents/ascents were gifted with a knotted rope to cling upon, others had steep often slippery steps to clamber down. After a while we returned to follow the side of the river, from here we knew that the end of the canyon was arriving, It almost felt a shame to leave the beauty of the woods and return back to the open fields; the promise of more churches to explore spurred us onward. One of the shortest days on the route it came almost as surprise to find ourselves arriving toward Rottenbuch and the end of our journey early in the afternoon. A dark ominous blue cloud rumbled in the background and hastened our pace to reach shelter in time. With seconds to spare I dashed inside the large church at the edge of town, no sooner had I entered the door than the rain began in tremendous curtains outside; from the shelter of the spectacular room I sat in a pew to wait and listen to the soothing clatter on the roof high above beyond another beautiful painted ceiling.

In a gap in the rain I made a dash for the Cafe Am Tor where I was booked in for the night. Splashing through puddles on the cobbled streets I passed under a tall white arch which spanned the road from the town centre to arrive at the cafe on the other side. The homely cafe was full of character, with beautiful paintings adorning the walls and quirky lampshades made from cutlery and colanders. In the corner the owner’s two week old baby slept quiet as a mouse in a hammock. A tremendous selection of sweet cakes and pastries tempted a rest after changing into dry clothes. With the afternoon to spare and the rain beating hard outside we settled in to enjoy each other’s company in the warm comfort of the cafe. As evening arrived we set out to sample the local Italian restaurant. We soon enjoyed food was as fantastic and extravagant as the owners' hairstyle! DAY FOUR The weather had again closed in overnight, when I woke to the now familiar smell of pretzels and salami I could hear the clatter of rain on the windowsill. Thankfully rain didn’t really matter as the highlight to look ahead to was one of Bavaria’s most celebrated historic churches; the church as Wies.

From Rottenbuch I left the church behind, drawn into a curtain of rain and set off on narrow farm tracks and single trail roads. A quick play on a random musical instrument constructed from cow bells later and I was making fast progress toward Wildsteig. Passing over farmland and small forestry plantations I soon arrived at the edge of Wildsteig, to my side the Schwaigsee lake swam in and out of the mist. Following a tractor down the narrow streets to pass a small bakery I squelched onto a steep climb to another large church overlooking the town. A small stone grotto beneath its walls sheltered a small virgin Mary statue, following the track I briefly took refuge inside to change my map. Returning shortly after to leave Wildsteig and head back to the fields I pushed on toward Wies. Following the familiar blue K marks I descended past farmyards and cattle fields before rising into woodland. After a half hour wandering between woodland trails and narrow roads I emerged into view of the famous Weis church.

Standing atop a low rise the church was larger than any I had seen since Andechs monastery, its size was held in comfortable modesty only by the dwarfing height of the alps which drifted in and out of view through the mist behind. Built between 1746 and 1754 by Dominikus Zimmerman the building represents some of the finest examples of Bavarian Baroque architecture, the church remains as a place of pilgrimage for those seeking to cure their ailments, however is far more frequented by the busloads of tourists who flock to gaze upon its stunning decorations. As suggested by my guidebook I paused at the entrance to seek out an MP3 player to play Johann Sebastian Bach for the ‘full’ baroque experience. Inside the colossal size of the main room is visually awe inspiring. The roof sports the most intricate and colourful painting I had yet seen and each wall was uniquely adorned in golden decorative crosses, angels or vine leaves. Before heading onward to Trauchgau I lingered for lunch in one of the nearby shops, to my delight inside I met my fellow hikers to eat in company. With a delicious plate of goulash & dumplings I was set walk the final few kilometres to complete the day.

Over lunch we debated the pros and cons of taking the longer route or the shorter; with the cloud low and obscuring the alps I set upon taking the latter with hope to catch the evening light in the town itself. From the church I followed along a narrow road into a forestry plantation, the trees reflecting in the mirror still puddles along the way. Occasional sightings of black squirrels or Jays hopping on the track ahead compensated for a lack of alpine views in the cloud above. Passing into the small town of Schober I caught a promising glimpse to the valleys ahead, the cloud seemed to be parting at last. Each field rung out with the musical clatters of cow bells, the sound seemed to be as much a part of the landscape as the native birdcalls. As I arrived upon the edge of Trauchgau the clouds around the mountains started to disperse. I was just a few minutes’ walk from the Hotel Sonnenbichl where I would be staying for the evening so lingered to enjoy the view appear behind the red spire of the local church. It was a fantastic way to end a day’s walk.

The Sonnenbichl hotel was one of the larger hotels so far, with everything from a bar & restaurant to a swimming pool and Sauna it was the perfect place to end and dry out. The owner was also a Scotsman and gave a wonderfully hospitable welcome. Re-joining the Australians I settled in for a few weissbiers and a huge steak & spatzl dish as recommended by the barman. DAY FIVE With a short walk in Trauchgau to start the day I lingered in the narrow streets to enjoy the local architecture; here the buildings were large, even for Bavarian standards and each had their own characteristic hanging baskets, painted shutters or even ornate painting on the wall. It was still raining yet there was promise of an improved forecast in the afternoon; I hoped it would arrive just as I would at the castles just visible far on the distant hillside. Following single trail roads to join a wide river I soon left Trauchgau and not long after found myself wandering into the quiet streets of Buching.

Here another small white church was accompanied by a similar counterpart atop a hill nearby, to ease the road ahead I decided to stop and sample a local sweet pastry before pressing on into the fields ahead, I was eager to reach the castles. Heading toward the Hegratsrieder See; a small lake in the distance I followed over rolling hills along narrow tarmac roads, the rain gently pattered on the grass leaving it dewy and sparkling on the verges. Arriving into the small farming hamlet of Greith I wandered into a large courtyard with decorative fountain in the middle, an attractive chapel stood behind; it seemed every village no matter what size had to have its own church. As the road led to the shores of the Hegratsrieder See I enjoyed the slate grey reflections in the crystal water; not a breath of wind seemed to stir the surface. Ahead the mountains started to drift out of the mist, at last the cloud was rising.

To my delight a burst of sun crept across the fields, the warmth of the day suddenly saturating the air; ahead the romantic Neuschwanstein castle with its fairytale spires and precarious placement was lit golden against dark blue mountainsides; this was why I had come, the spectacle was awe inspiring. Detouring from the route I ventured to toward a church in the open field ahead, I wanted to investigate a mysterious pile of pumpkins which lay by the roadside. Sat in the sun beside the mound of vegetables I watched the mist swirl around the castles ahead, it made the mornings damp hiking worth every second. Somewhere between the castles and I was the Pollatschlucht or Pollat gorge, a hidden wonder between them mountains and the finish line. Passing a small abandoned sawmill I caught glimpses of the Hohenschwangau castle to my side, like the Neuschwanstein castle which was now almost above my head it was shrouded in mist with the dark moody blues of the mountains behind; ahead a wide river roared from the gorge.

The track went from gravel trail to iron bridge, literally bolted onto the cliff side above tumbling waterfalls it was a place to question ones sense of trust in the construction and ability to withstand vertigo; thankfully the beauty of light inter-playing between the cascading waters and thick pine trees which clung to the river’s edge was more than enough to distract. Passing a towering waterfall to a deafening roar I caught another glimpse of spires above my head. Looking forward a tiny bridge spanned the highest point of the gorge I could make out crowds of eager onlookers peering over the drop toward where I stood. Beneath the bridge was the most impressive of all the falls, the grand finale before climbing back to the path and joining the masses. Panting from a steep climb out of the gorge and onto the hillside I arrived onto a wide tarmac track. The sound of the river was lost to the bustle of people, after so long on the quiet road and trails from Starnberg it felt as if arriving into a city.

Following the general flow uphill I wound my way toward the bridge I had so recently stood beneath; as I climbed the view stretched out to Fussen and the castles below, spectacular lakes and alpine vistas spread out into the horizon. Jostling for position on the bridge I caught sight at last at the Neuschwanstein castle from perhaps its most impressive angle; here the true spectacle of King Ludwig’s creative genius could truly be admired. After lingering at the gorge and around the castle it was late in the evening before I set off toward Fussen to finish the day. Deciding to take the longer yet more scenic route back I descended into the valley where restaurants and shots appeared in their plenty. Crossing the roads toward the quiet waters of a nearby lake I rose into woodland and into silence once more. The path rose at a gentle contour before dropping into the next valley in steep switchbacks, here I met the Schwansee lake which in the evening still was like a perfect mirror to the mountains and castles behind. Lingering I watched as the light started to grow golden on the summits above; I was excited to get a view from the last hill before dinner.

There was no better way to end a fantastic long distance trail like the King Ludwig Way than to sit atop a small hill and gaze back upon the mountains, castles and lakes in the setting sun. Beneath a series of three crosses I sat on the top of a small chapel, in total silence the spectacle seemed to swim out and grab at every sense; to one side was the mountains to my other the colourful houses of Fussen and home, separated by only a small descent and some hidden chapels it was tantalisingly close. Arriving in the last golden light Fussen seemed all the more beautiful, the wide river at the edge of town was an inviting yet surely cold azure blue which contested perfectly with the red roofs and yellow walls that most of the buildings displayed. Children dressed in full lederhosen ran ahead in the narrow streets and the sound of a nearby band echoed through the bustle of triumphant walkers, meeting my fellow hikers I and the Australians finished together into the extravagant Hotel Sonne; perhaps the most luxurious of all the hotels so far.

To celebrate finishing the hike we settled down to a superb three course meal and with what better than a weissbeer named ‘Konig Ludwig.’ DAY SIX The King Ludwig Way was complete but I had one extra day to explore and enjoy the wanders of Fussen particularly those of the castles I had briefly passed the evening before. I had planned early in the hike that I would set off at the crack of dawn to attempt an alpine peak, my hope was to catch a view back down from the summit. However a broad bank of cloud was fast approaching from the open fields with the likelihood of capturing the view into mist upon the tops. Instead I decided to venture back to Neuschwanstein castle and plan further from there. Like a Disneyland castle Neuschwanstein perches upon the very top of the most unlikely steep hill. Flanked on three of the four sides by the towering cliff sides of the Bavarian alps and separated only by a deep gorge it is a romantic yet impenetrable fortress. Today the castle is overrun only by hoards of tourists to which a local industry booms. From the bustling bus stop I joined a steady flow in the crowd to wind uphill toward the castle grounds.

Passing countless gift shops, cafes and the occasional horse drawn cart I soon found myself enjoying the high vantage of the hillside. Looking back to the comparatively modest yellow walls of Hohenschwangau castle I peered out across the stunning lakes and alpine vistas; so far the cloud was staying high. Gazing up to the Tegelberg chairlift in the distance I aimed to cross the gorge on the impressive bridge before climbing uphill to meet the lift station at the top. If the weather improved I would aim for the summit, if it did not I would return to explore the lower castles; it seemed like the best way to experience the best of everything the area had to offer. Jostling for position I took a quick peer over the bridge back to the extravagant spires of the Neuschwanstein castle. Leaving the crowds behind I was soon following a narrow trail up into alpine pine forest, the immediate sense of wilderness spurred the urge to pursue the mountain above, to keep hiking and keep climbing up. Occasional glimpses back to the valley below were brought by vertigo inducing drops to the side of the narrow route.

Before long I had risen into a mist; gently swirling around between the trees it created an eerie stillness to the air. Joining a group of young locals I climbed in company toward the sounds of a cable car somewhere ahead. The trail often wound in precarious switchbacks or narrow contours around slopes; sometimes following through forest the route would open up into exposed steps shrouded into a sense of safety by the cloud. It was mid-day when we arrived under the cables of the Tegelberg chairlift, leaving the woodland we wound onto a wide concrete track to soon discover a cafe and sudden bustle of activity on the top. We sat together for a celebratory lunch of sweet pastries and salami kindly shared amongst the group. Now in thick mist continuing to the mountaintop less worthwhile, instead I jumped aboard the chairlift to return to Fussen via the castles one last time. By the time I had wandered back into Fussen the light was again growing low over the hills and yet again the local band had appeared to play life into the evening streets.

It was a sad feeling to be leaving Germany in the morning yet a triumphant ending to a long journey, in just one week I had hiked through open fields, impressive woodlands and into the mountains; most importantly I had walked through a ribbon of culture, where churches, history and local foods had made the King Ludwig Way more than a walk, it was a perfect way to get a taste of Germany. Walking in the Austrian & Swiss Alps Sunny Summer Strolls in the Alps The Alps of Austria and Switzerland often see crisp and attractive walking weather in the summer months with daylight until 9pm. This year the Austrian Lake District is a region that appeals and on one of our trips you can easily combine a visit with hiking the peaks of the Dachstein Alps. Even though the Haute Route is a classic walking region, compared to most other areas in Switzerland the majority of the paths is little trodden. If you like to see the flower-strewn alpine meadows of the Bernese Oberland and Rachstein Falls at their best, the coming months are your best option.

Head to the Alps of Switzerland and Austria this July to September to enjoy an excellent variety of alpine flowers, animals, bountiful picnic lunches, and incomparable mountain panoramas. Walking on the Isle of Wight With the launch of our new walking and cycling holidays on the Isle of Wight our resident guide Jon Millen explains what makes this part of the British Isles so special. Find out more about our new Isle of Wight walking and cycling holidays >> The Isle of Wight is a great place for experienced and beginner walkers alike, with a generally mild climate, bracing hilly downs, sections of woodland and great sea views across 525 km of footpaths on an island of 381 square km. It is also home to the ‘Caulkers’: named after the people who used to proof the boards and hulls of the ubiquitous boats that plied between the island and the mainland or went fishing in its waters, it is used today to describe the indigenous people of the island whilst projecting the image of the separateness of the place. Despite being geographically close to the cities of Portsmouth, Southampton and even Greater London, it is still surprisingly detached.

Although there is talk of building a new road bridge, economic benefits are debated and speculated, as a lot of the local people still want the isolation and the quasi-independence that the rising waters of the Channel and the flooding of the River Solent gave to the island 8,000 years or so ago. WHAT IS SO SPECIAL ABOUT THE ISLE OF WIGHT? I remember back in the 1970s and ’80s people were joking that resorts on the Isle of Wight were just like how the British seaside used to be in the 1950s. On my most recent visit in 2015, people were still comparing it to, well, British resorts in the 1950s – however that may be a little harsh! Although much of its modern tourism is based upon its original Victorian and Edwardian infrastructure and of course sailing, the Isle of Wight has pioneered outdoor, farm-based rock festivals since 1968, attracting upwards of 150,000 people – you will even find a statue of Jimi Hendrix at Freshwater Bay!

Nowadays many of the seaside towns have modernised their image so you will find some great pubs and restaurants with very appealing fayre. Ventnor has reinvented itself as a health spa town and Cowes is fashionable for shopping as well as a yachter’s cornucopia. But other areas trade much more upon their historical past. Freshwater Bay reflects its links with Alfred Lord Tennyson, Blackgang Chine reminds us that it is the oldest theme park in Britain (dating from the 1840s!) and who can forget Queen Victoria’s beloved Italianate Osborne House … Why go to the Italian Riviera when you can stand overlooking the Solent with a bag of fish and chips from the ‘Cod Father’ takeaway? You may even stay in a pub which was built from the timbers of a ship wreck – dozens occurred around the island and was one of the sporadic ‘benefits’ of living here! WHAT ABOUT WALKING IN PARTICULAR? The island is perfect for leisure walking. The single most important thing to remember is that the island is conservative and the countryside is very well preserved, with more than half of the island designated as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty .

But much of the rest is similarly very attractive, even down to some of the old brick-built seafront villages, such as Seaview, or the beautiful micro-fishing village of Steephill Cove, which is hidden away in a coastal crenulation with some thatched cottages and a great fish restaurant. There is also a lovely Coastal Path , threading its way between the wonders of the island. Coastal erosion means that, for safety reasons, there are some diversions in place that take you inland around the areas of collapsing clay cliffs and boggy slumps. FAVOURITE TIME TO WALK ON THE ISLE OF WIGHT I would recommend April to late June, before the schools break up, and September and October. The spring and early summer often has low rainfall and beautiful spring flowers within the woodlands with bright emerald leaves on the trees, while the autumn period has a more rustic golden charm. Of course sea fogs can be notorious and can roll in at any time! It is best to avoid the heaving summer ‘bucket and spade’ season and the August Cowes weeks – although the trails can be quiet, resorts and towns are very busy.

There are several music, walking and cycling festivals taking place in May, so similarly that month can vary in terms of busyness. HIGHLIGHTS OF A WALKING HOLIDAY ON THE ISLE OF WIGHT Any given day along the Coastal Path will take you through some wonderful areas. Osborne House is quite a sight, especially the ‘Durbar Room’ and the beautiful paintings of some of Queen Victoria’s ‘Indian subjects’. You can walk down to her private beach for a peek of her original ‘swimming machine’, which has been recently restored or visit the nearby Quarr Abbey , an astonishing brick-built abbey. There is also an interesting chain ferry that takes you from East to West Cowes across the River Medina. There has been great resistance to building a bridge, as tradition is very important. Three hours walking from Cowes you arrive at a village called Newtown. Today this is merely a street of houses, an attractive church and a town hall owned by the National Trust but it used to be the biggest town and busiest port on the island – that is until 1377, when the French sacked the place!

However it is best known as a ‘Rotten Borough’: despite only a few families living here, until the 1832 Reform Act it could elect 2 MPs into the English parliament, the same as cities such as Birmingham. Further on is Yarmouth , a town with some mediaeval features and noted for a swashbuckling past. Privateering, or more commonly known as pirating, was very prevalent. One of the Governors of Yarmouth sailed out and captured a French ship carrying a marvellous marble statue of Louis XIV, which was to be presented in Paris to the Sun King. Instead, the Governor had its face knocked into his own image and installed it within the local church! The trail winds past a fortress with a construction of a huge nuzzle loaded canon. These ‘Palmerston Forts’, named after the warmongering minister, are also dotted around the coast and point to a time as late as the 1850s and ’60s, when Britain still feared attack from France. There are great views over the Portland and the huge defensive complex, where once Charles I was held prisoner during the English Civil War.

The walk undulates over cliffs and downs to pass through The Needles Park , where the chalk backbone of the island dives into the sea like a dragon’s tail with chalky sea-stack scales. If you decide to continue further downlands you will find Victorian memorials, a thatched church, as well as gun placements from World War ll. The Isle of Wight is also home to the only surviving mediaeval lighthouse in Britain, which can be found at the St Catherine’s Oratory . The steep walk up is definitely worth it. Coming here at sunset is a beautiful experience as you can follow the coastline all the way back to The Needles! FAVOURITE FOOD AND DRINK ON THE ISLE OF WIGHT The Isle of Wight is known for its fresh seafood, which these days translates at crustaceans more than anything else! Any self-respecting pub or restaurant on the island will make the best of its seafood menu, with the Crab and Lobster Inn in Bembridge probably being the most famous of all.

For more of an authentic marine experience, just before a causeway crosses Bembridge Harbour on the east of the Isle, there is the floating seafood The Best Dressed Crab restaurant at Fishermans Wharf, where you can taste fresh lobster or have a crab and prawn sandwich washed down with a zingy tasting beer. You can also try the seafront Boat House Restaurant in gorgeous Steephill Cove and there are of course great takeaways such as the aforementioned ‘Cod Father’ in Ryde. OTHER RECOMMENDATIONS Bring your binoculars with you, as you will need them for coastal observations and also looking at bird life. If you belong to the National Trust don’t forget your membership card for the Old Battery on The Needles and if you are a member of English Heritage use your card for entry to Osborne House and Yarmouth Castle. Take a boot brush with you – wet conditions are not uncommon on the island, often resulting in plenty of muddy clays. On the contrary, if you expect hot weather, pack your swimming costume, water shoes and maybe even bring a kite, in case you decide to spend the day on the beach! MORE INFORMATION

Question: Which Mediterranean island features a single Saracen's head on its flag?
Answer: Corsica