Quirky Traveller's Tales

For those of a certain age, St Moritz is synonymous with the über-cool jet-setters of the Swinging Sixties. Erstwhile playboy Gunter Sachs epitomised this hedonistic era when he married French pin-up movie star Brigitte Bardot. Gunter Sachs Lodge and The Dracula Club, overlooking the Olympic Bob Run course, are where the beautiful people still go to see and be seen.

The ‘Olympic Bob Run’ is the oldest in the world, initially created for winter guests from Great Britain who invented the sport of bobsleigh running. In 1897, the St. Moritz Bobsleigh Club was established.  The track served as host to the bobsleigh events for both the 1928 and the 1948 Winter Olympics.   Today it is one of the world’s best known bobsled runs, popular with both amateur and professional sports enthusiasts.

Arriving on a sunny day in late winter the place is a buzzing hive of testosterone, high-fashion and reflective sunglasses, mirroring the beautiful people at play.  Men in tight-fitting jackets jam protective helmets on their heads whilst photographers jostle for the best position to get the iconic shot.  There’s an air of expensive danger, jovial bonhomie and general excitement.  On the sunlit terraces a sophisticated murmur of polite chat chimes with champagne glasses chinking and beer glasses clinking. Pristine snow glistens in reflected sunshine and it looks like a glossy page from Vogue magazine … So it is with red-faced embarrassment that I recall my ignominious photo-call in these hallowed environs.

I was on a Railbookers train holiday to Switzerland; the day before we had arrived at St Moritz in style on the gloriously luxurious Glacier Express and we had been taken to the prestigious Olympic Club to have a look round. In front of the run was a bobsleigh and we were invited to have our photo taken. I got into the front position, sat back for my shot – and promptly disappeared down into the very nose of the bobsleigh.  And I couldn’t get out … All that was visible were my hands scrabbling to get a purchase on the slippery edge of the frame.

I got so weak laughing I was incapable of leveraging myself up. It was only when everyone had got their photos and finally stopped their hysterics that, with the help of my ‘friends’ and a couple of strapping sportsmen, I was finally hauled out, dusted off and able to pose properly for my photo.

It was fascinating watching the participants setting off on their exhilarating bobsleigh run.  Every few minutes two or three people crammed themselves into a metallic cylinder and were shoved off down the world’s only natural ice run, hurtling along 1722 metres of straights and round 14 named corners at speeds of up to 135 kph, and all over in about 75 seconds.

We left this exciting Swiss playground to walk into St Moritz Town Centre and there, just round the corner, was that other famous sporting venue of the Engadin region, the Cresta Run.  Started in the winter season 1884/85, it’s a men-only ‘skeleton bob’ addictive adrenalin rush spiked with danger and adventure just inches off the frozen track.  (Female Journalist Lisa Grainger did manage to do the run – you can read her death-defying account of it here.)

I stayed in 5-star pampered luxury at the Kempinksi Grand Hotel des Bains, one of St Moritz’ oldest hotels and the site of the St Mauritius Spring, after which the town is named. For over 2000 years people have been drinking from this spring.  In 1553 Paracelsus wrote about its medicinal benefits, recommending its health-giving waters, one of the most healing natural springs in Europe. Now situated in the Grand Hotel des Bains Spa, it is still open to the public.

I’d recommend a glass of its iron-rich water, perfect for revitalising after embarrassing photo-shoots!

Read how World Travel Blogger Kate Harrison Whiteside moved from Broughton, Cumbria to Rossland, Canada and discovered a totally different way of life.

When we planned to exchange our Broughton-in-Furness Lake District fell views for Canada’s Rocky Mountain views from Calgary, Alberta, it seemed like a plan set in stone. Our urban future would be filled with hockey games, biking along city paths, eating at a buffet of international restaurants and weekend mountain getaways.  We didn’t expect to keep travelling west over the Rockies to the small Kootenay mountain resort of Rossland, BC, half way to Vancouver.

Rossland Town www.redresort.com

My first flight from Calgary to Rossland also did not go as planned. Low cloud over the Columbia River valley prevented landing. The gentleman next to me asked if I was visiting – and then said he knew my husband. His advice: ‘Stick with us. We’ve done this before.’ So, I did.  Another flight. Another town. A 4X4 rental.  And, a snowy drive in the darkness over the Kootenay’s infamous Salmo-Creston Pass. It was a real introduction to winter life in this never-ending series of mountain ranges.

 My husband picked me up and we drove straight up for 10 kilometers to Rossland’s Red Mountain Ski Resort – our ‘temporary’ home. A bear had walked past the patio during the week. I would hear lots of bear tales, see bear droppings, but, never have a real sighting – yet … 

Red Mountain Ski Resort by redresort.com

The winter days were blindingly bright as the sun bounced off fresh snow. Up at Red, the average snowfall is 650 centimeters, almost twice as much as in Rossland, only three miles away. Both get nearly 2000 hours of sunlight annually.  My lunch breaks evolved into cross country skiing, snowshoeing or walking breaks The light, air and trails were pristine – and it was quiet. The wind seldom shows itself. 

Skiing at Red Resort by redresort.com

Even when we moved into Rossland, I found myself tuned into the delightful quiet. It is especially silent on snowy days – six out of 10 people own a ski pass – as it becomes a ghost town.  When I left Canada, skiing was the winter sport of choice, and we bought cross-country skis shortly after landing. But, during my thirteen years in the UK, Canada had developed a new pastime. The outdoor shop walls were full of shiny, colourful and cleverly designed  - snowshoes. It is now my winter sport du jour: I can do it just about anywhere. This year we treated ourselves to a snow blower!  All part of Alpine life.

When walking downtown, I am constantly reminded of Rossland’s gold mining beginnings by the old-style storefronts, murals painted on building walls and posters for events at the Miners’ Hall.  Rossland’s 42 saloons, 17 law firms and four banks of the 1800s have been replaced with boutiques, a chocolatier’s, shoe shops, spas, an Italian grocery store, a Japanese tapas restaurant and cappuccino cafes. And, I frequent them all. It’s a perk of living in an Alpine tourist town.

Near the ski hill bus stop on Columbia Avenue stands the larger-than-life bronze statue in honour of the town’s famous miner, father of competitive skiing and originator of the annual winter festival – Olaus Jeldness. At this year’s 116^th annual carnival, revellers donned fake black moustaches in his honour. People talk about Canadian Olympic medal winners Nancy Green, Kerrin Lee-Gartner, and the other Canadian ski team members who have called Rossland home. It is unlikely I will join their ranks. But, every day when I am greeted by the stunning valley views, sunlight blasting off the tops, I feel like a gold medal winner!

Red Mountain view – photo by N.Henson www.redresort.com

It is funny how the best-laid plans take on a life of their own.  Our move from Broughton, Cumbria to Rossland, Canada is proof that Plan B CAN be better. The fact is, we are now Rosslanders and can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Kate Harrison Whiteside began professional life as a journalist, but fate took her down the freelancing path. Starting out as a print writer, she went in the direction of online content. Kate occasionally changes lanes, writing fiction instead of fact. She runs Key Advice from a room with a view in Rossland.  You can read her blog This Canadian Life, find her on Face Book and follow her on Twitter @thiscanadian

The stream of clowns seemed endless, each group dressed in matching zingy, sherbet-bright costumes, gradually filling up the main promenade between the exuberantly decorated floats, marching bands and rich medley of characters that made up the extravaganza that is the Tenerife Carnival.

CARNIVAL – a festival marked by merrymaking and processions

Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday: a carnival held in some countries on Shrove Tuesday (the last day before Lent) but especially in New Orleans and Rio de Janiero

Carnevale: from Old Italian carnelevare, Shrovetide : carne, meat + levare, to remove

I was upstairs on a big red, open-top bus on Santa Cruz promenade the waiting for the main procession of the carnival to get under way … We’d been there for almost two hours, so even by Spanish mañana standards it was a long time!  This did, however, give us a unique opportunity to see some of the amazingly intricate costumes and floats that make this one of the biggest carnivals in the world.  This year’s theme was ‘Bollywood’ and there were some beautiful Indian-influenced outfits, but to be honest, the overall vision was simply colour, glitz and vibrancy. The atmosphere was electric as adults, children and a couple of geese made their preparations for the biggest day of the year.

As a picture paints a thousand words, I’ll save you some reading time and share some of the scenes that I saw during this time.  If you can imagine an accompaniment of a very loud and excitable troupe of drummers plus various bands providing entertainment for the waiting crowds, you’ll get an idea of the sounds that accompanied this marvellous melee.

There was a great deal of adjusting of costumes, trying on of hats, practising marching, putting finishing touches to exotic makeup, twiddling with accoutrements and a huge amount of noisy laughter. 

Children of all ages were kitted out in very professional-looking costumes and were high as kites with excitement. Adults tried to keep them in place but quite a few went walk-about whilst others were kept happy with bags of crips and fizzy drinks.

As well as the groups who were marching on foot there were, of course, a great many floats.  I’d never been to a ‘real’ carnival and to be so close to these wonderful creations didn’t spoil the magic one bit.  I walked up to the head of the procession before it set off and was fortunate to get in front of the Tenerife Carnival Queen as she was getting ready for the start and posing for photographers. Even without her headress she was simply lovely and clearly enjoying all the fuss.

With the rather lengthy delay, some of the participants got rather tired so there were a few who took time out to have a sit down and rest before the procession set off.

And for one or two people, the anticipation all got too much so they grabbed the chance for a quick kip …

Eventually we heard that the parade had set off and our guide, Ancor, decided that we should abandon the bus and start walking alongside to get a real feel of what it was like to take part in the Tenerife Carnival.  So that’s what we did – and I’ll tell you about that and the crazy party nights before and after, another time.

I travelled to the lovely Canary isle of Tenerife, off the coast of Africa, courtesy of Tenerife Tourism and stayed in 5 Star luxury at the Mencey Hotel in the heart of Santa Cruz.

Oh yes, those geese. Here they are, in quite possibly the most understated outfits of the whole parade …

Any seasoned traveller will tell you that Morocco is famous for its confusing medinas (the older area of a city) and even the most confident of visitors are likely to get lost wandering around these wonderfully perplexing places.

Have no fear though, losing your way is all part of the fun on a trip to Morocco and with a number of ways to get yourself back on track again, why not embrace the unknown and take the opportunity to really immerse yourself in North African life?

Here are some top tips from Audley Travel for finding your way if you get lost in one of Morocco’s medinas:

1.  In each city, make sure you know how to get back to your hotel from a main tourist site, then ask for directions to this area if you get lost. In Marrakesh, for example, ask for directions back to the Djemaa El Fna.

2.  Take a photo of easily identifiable landmarks near to your hotel and use these as a guide if you get lost. Taller buildings that can be clearly spotted throughout the city are best.

3.  Keep your hotel address handy when out and about. As Arabic is the official language of Morocco, ask your hotel to write the address in Arabic for you before you leave. It is also worth writing it down in French as this too is widely spoken.

4.  Don’t be afraid to ask for help, there are always plenty of friendly people around. But perhaps ask a stall owner – someone behind a counter is less likely to accompany you on your onward journey!

5.  Don’t panic!  The sprawling alleyways and seemingly endless twists and turns of Morocco’s medinas can seem a bit intimidating and overwhelming if you do find yourself lost, but never fear, we haven’t heard of anyone not making it back to their hotel yet!

If you use these tips, you will get back on track eventually and, in the meantime, enjoy your surroundings –  it’s all part of a trip to Morocco!

This post is brought to you by Audley Travel, an award–winning tour operator specialising in tailor-made trips and small group tours for the discerning traveller, to over 80 countries around the world.

As drivers hurtle up and down the M6 to and from the Lake District and Scotland it’s easy to miss out on some of the north of England’s most interesting sights.  Lancashire is an incredibly diverse county with vast areas of charming countryside, rural villages, historic towns and, in Blackpool, one of this country’s most iconic beach resorts.  Here are seven reasons to take a quick detour off the M6 in Lancashire and savour a few of the delights of this ancient region – you will be well-rewarded.

Leighton Hall: a short drive from Junction 35 takes you to the beautiful home of the Gillow family, one of Lancashire’s most famous names, designers and purveyors of quality furniture to the gentry and others of refined taste.  This warm and welcoming house is crammed full of antiques and quirky nick-nacks.  It has a charming walled garden laid out with fruit and vegetables, a little maze and a glorious hebaceous border.  Set in a graceful hollow the views of the Lake District fells and Morecambe Bay are outstanding.

Carnforth Station Heritage Centre: down the road from Leighton Hall, on the A6, you are transported back to the age of steam, when smuts got in your eye and a train’s whistle was the signal for a journey to unexplored areas of the country. Run by knowledgeable volunteers, the Centre traces the vital history of freight and passenger rail in the area.  However, it’s the connection with that classic B&W British weepie ‘Brief Encounter’ that brings visitors from all over the world.  Filmed during WWII, it tells the story of ill-fated lovers kept apart by the upright morals of 1940s England.  You can watch the movie, see stills from the filming and have a sandwich in the meticulously recreated ‘Refreshment Room’, where any minute Stanley Holloway might pop in for a quick cuppa …

Lancaster Castle: get off at Junction 33 or 34 and take time to visit one of England’s most historic buildings.  Looking down over the city and River Lune, it has a solid and authoritarian air, much as it would have done in John of Gaunt’s day.  Modified as a Court and Prison, there’s a fascinating tour taking in the 12^th Century Keep, the Witches Tower, the old cells, the Crown Court and graceful  Shire Hall.   A stroll along the nearby river takes you to the excellent Maritime Museum, where Lancaster’s involvement in the slave trade is told along with more gratifying stories of this old port.

Lancaster Castle – photo c/o Visit Britain

The Forest of Bowland:  in the little maze of narrow lanes and rolling hillsides to the east of Preston (J32) it’s easy to get lost awhile and forget the hectic pace of modern life.  Wander along the main street of pretty Chipping or have lunch in the well-known Inn at Whitewell.  Covering over 300 square miles, this Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty has over 500 listed buildings and 18 scheduled monuments.  One of its most impressive landmarks is Pendle Hill, near the home of the infamous Lancashire Witches.

More things to see and do in the Forest of Bowland in this podcast:

Rivington Pike: easily spotted from the M6 (Junction 27/28) with its Beacon, Tower and aerials, it’s the summit of Winter Hill, on the Pennine Moors.  On a clear day you can see Blackpool Tower, the Lake District mountains, the Welsh mountains and, across the Irish Sea, the Isle of Man.  The Beacon is part of England’s early warning system and the Tower was built as a hunting lodge in the 1700s.  Further down are the recently restored ‘Lost Gardens of Rivington’, originally laid out for Victorian industrialist Lord Lever.  At the foot of the hill you can get refreshments at enormous Rivington Hall Barn, weekend gathering place for bikers showing off their immaculately-kept shiny motorbikes.

Rivington Pike Tower – photo by John Darch

Hopefully you’ll be tempted off the busy M6 in Lancashire and tarry awhile at one or more of these fascinating places …

A shorter version of this article originally appeared in my Visit Britain Superblog section.

There are a few sights in the world that can take your breath away and leave you speechless … Uluru in the Red Centre of the Australian outback, is one of those places. Whether your first glimpse, like mine, is from high above as the plane comes in to land, or maybe at sunrise on the distant horizon or perhaps from the back of a docile camel, you will very likely feel a strange sense of awe and incredulity at this enormous domed rock thrusting up out of one of this planet’s most inhospitable environments.

On the flight from Darwin via Alice Springs I’d been fretting about whether this iconic (yes, one of the few places that truly do justify the use of that word) place would disappoint.  For as long as I could remember, Ayers Rock, as many of us know it, had figured in my mind’s eye any time anyone mentioned ‘Australia’. It evoked wonder and intrigue but so had the Pyramids -and they were a big disappointment.  (If you’ve not been, be prepared for a tourist bun fight with a lot of hassle and the suburbs of Cairo nudging up cheek by jowl with the Sphinx …)  However, I was not to be disappointed; my first glimpse of it from the plane window, reassured me of its superb isolation.  Further acquaintance enabled me to get some idea why it is such a sacred site for the Aboriginal peoples who live nearby and why it has inspired countless visitors with its impressive grandeur.

At 5am the next morning I was having a welcome bacon buttie and coffee on a sandy hillock in the dark waiting for the sun to rise and get my first proper look at Uluru.  About 15 of us plus our guide on The Desert Awakenings Tour  huddled around our hot mugs and there was was a definite frisson of anticipation in spite of the chilly morning air. The only sounds were the murmur of sleepy conversation, the wind swishing through the grass and the quiet munching of early breakfast.  The whole world seemed suspended in time waiting, waiting, waiting …

Slowly a thin streak of reddy-orange appeared, the carpet of stars started to fade and the dark was gradually ushered away by the sun struggling  to break through the distant layer of haze along the base of the skyline.  We were transfixed by this simple, everyday event, cameras at the ready, when someone said “Look – it’s over there,” and we all turned round.  There, far away on the horizon, across scrubby flat desert, was the unmistakable outline of the sight we had all come to see.  It gradually came into focus like one of those old photos in a photographer’s dark room, beautifully delineated yet magically elusive.

The sky morphed through a pastel palette of colour.  All thoughts seemed to disappear as I sat and watched it become more clearly defined and – simply breathtaking.  It’s really impossible to put into words what I felt during the time it took for the sun to rise fully and the Rock to be cleary visible in its reddish glory … but whatever it was, I suspect many others felt the same as hardly anyone said a word for a very long while.

Our guide then regaled us with fascinating stories relating to the Aboriginal Song Lines and the ancestors’ journey.  “As they travelled they formed the world as we know it, creating trees, rocks, caves, boulders, cracks, waterholes.  These features are the physical evidence that these events really did take place; they are the Tjukuritja.” From ‘Palya! Welcome to Anangu Land’.

There was a final burst of photography, we tramped back down the little hill, through the red sand and prickly grass back to our 4WD transport.  The atmosphere had changed so much in just an hour. A few birds were clearing their throats and practising their dawn warble.  A quirky-looking pigeony-type bird wandered in behind us to peck up our leftovers.

Slightly disconcerting rustlings indicated the presence of … not sure what and wasn’t going off the path to find out.  The ttransition from the cool night air to the dry heat of that extremely hot sun was taking place as we walked. It was now about 7.30am and we were heading off towards Uluru to have a walk around and learn why this ancient monolith is venerated by the Aboriginal peoples of this region.

Over the next couple of days I was lucky enough to get really close to the rock, see it by sunrise from Kata Tjuta (The Olgas), at sunset at the exclusive Tali Wiru dining experience and very memorably in a light rain shower from the back of a feisty camel called Spinifex – but nothing compared to that first morning when, for a fleeting moment, all seemed right with the world and our place in it but an insignificant dot on the landscape in comparison to the vista before us …

I stayed, courtesy of Tourism Northern Territory, at the Voyages Ayers Rock Resort, which is a reallya mini village.  It’s the only resort in the area, but fortunately there are a number of options to suit all budgets, from camping and hostel to self-catering and the 5 Star luxury of the Sails in the Desert Hotel where I was lucky enough to stay.  Just be warned – Bill Bryson and companion turned up without booking and there was no room at the resort – having driven all day from Alice Springs, they had to turn round and drive the 5 hour journey back and missed the Rock!

Neither words nor photographs can do justice to this place but I would encourage you, at least once in your life, to experience the natural wonder that is sunrise at Uluru …