• Farewell to Catalonia and Hello to the Province of Alicante

    We cycle along a circular route from the promenade in L’Ampolla through the hinterland, following the olive grove route.  The road is a rollercoaster. Sun shines on mountains terraced with dry-stone walls. I’m amazed at the skill and strength it must take to balance them, so that they nestle together and hold tight. The walls’…

  • Languorous L’Ampolla – the town on the borders of the Ebro Delta offers up cliffside walks, saltmarsh and lagoons

    Our dash from San Sebastian to the Mediterranean town of L’Ampolla involves battering rain in Zaragoza’s only campsite open for miles. The drive from Zaragoza to Lleida is forbidding, with its bleached fields and mountains mined away to resemble a row of bad teeth. But my heart lifts as we turn off at Lleida to…

  • Set Loose Alone in Stunning San Sebastian

    Our first morning in San Sebastían arrives with sun shining on our campsite up on Monte Igeldo. Green fields run down to a muted blue sea. The waves smashing against russet cliffs add to the drama, sea spray leaping up into the air. Today, I’m going to be set loose on San Sebastian alone as…

  • Sur Le Pont D’Avignon

    I’ve wanted to go to the Palais des Papes in Avignon since I read Charles Dickens’ travelogue about visiting it on a cold winter’s day, with his wife and children, before repacking them all into carriage and horses to continue to Genoa. We tried once ages ago, our teenage children with us, in blistering August…

  • La Napoule, Mandelieu – Cote D’Azur’s Sparkling Seaside Suburb of Cannes

    We pull up in Camping Le Cigales as it’s one of the only campsites in Mandelieu-La Napoule, open in mid-October. Parked under the towering palm tree, the parakeets singing overhead, we don’t feel too short changed. We stroll along the Parc des Oliviers which lines the River de L’Argentiere, watching the kayakers and children in…

  • Gracious Genoa Proves to be a Mediterranean Gem

    Slaloming round Genoa’s spaghetti looped motorways always brings out the startle reflex in me. But Seán, insouciant as ever, just rolls with it. When we leave the motorway at Pegli, a suburb just north of Genoa’s centre, I hold my breath as he squeezes the van between mopeds, motorbikes, cars, pedestrians out for their evening…