Dartmoor - Bellever Tor

Summer has flamin' flown by and though i'm refusing to believe it's over, I did contemplate making a fire last night. Although Dartmoor has a reputation for windswept horizontal rain and dark mists (perfect for a night by the woodburner), I thought i'd push the stereotypes by reminiscing on a gorgeous summer day stomp out on the moor a few weeks back.

We drove the windy road out to the middle of Dartmoor from Exeter (don't forget the carsick bag) to the babbling brooks of Bellever... a nice enough spot. NICE. Preened. So much so that anyone would forget about the wild moor up top. Not us though - we set out to conquer the windswept terrain, and clambered up to enjoy our home made sarnies overlooking... well... absolutely nothing. This is the beauty of course - just us four, a few wild ponies and a can of festival cider.

It seems that nobody else was too bothered about about the wilderness, and after the novelty of isolation had warn off (and the wind picked up), we headed back down the sheltered stream. Now wild ponies are not your standard find, and we couldn't leave without at least trying to tame a few of the beasts - "you'll never get within a mile of them" I proclaimed pompously, to which Caroline whipped out a packet of leftover picnic pink wafers (pre-purchased from Aldi) and began shaking them around coo cooing the 'wild' horses. Much to my delight, the majority took a sniff and cantered off to the tasty green pastures.

But.... there's always one isn't there (if there were pink wafers around when God created the universe, Eve would have been munching away without a care in the world!), and this curious little man couldn't resist the pink sugar high.

And so we left - leaving pink wafers and taking photographic evidence that we may well be responsible for bringing 'my little pony' to life someday.

Starcross to Exmouth

We set out on another jolly last weekend to explore what is arguably our nearest beach - Exmouth - the gateway to the famous Jurassic Coast. I had heard plenty about the incredible rocks here, and was keen to start the hunt for fossil treasure and clues to the grand events of the past.

This time, we headed down the west side of the river from Exeter towards Starcross. Cycling swiftly by, we tipped our hat to the trusted Lock Cottage which was our (holiday) home here when we first arrived in Exeter. It's now converted for the summer into a welcoming little cafe - a lovely resting stop to dip your toes and view the birdlife with a big slice of cake.

A few minutes further, we couldn't help but park up for a tasty Dragon's Tears Devon Cider - served on tap at the Turf Locks. The huge beer garden here makes the perfect spot to watch the estuary life sail by. Continuing on along the rocky coastal path (soon to be accompanied by a smooth cycle path), we finally found the ferry at Starcross - just in time!

Sailing into Exmouth (bikes in tow), we headed for the beach - miles of golden sand and plenty of folk enjoying the seaside. Around 10 minutes cycling and we reached the tip of the main sands before ditching the bikes and disappearing off around the corner leaving the crowds behind. We were lucky to catch the end of the sunshine which made for beautiful views of the twinkling waters and impressive red rocky layers. Quiet moments amongst millions of years of natural history right on our doorstep - what a find!

A Cornish Solstice

So Summer has finally arrived, proven both by celebration of the longest day of the year, and an entire weekend of unhindered sunshine. This doesn't happen often in England and of course, it most probably won't be lasting long. Cue the typical British excitement (/panic of missing a millisecond of valuable tanning time) which occurs on such a forecast weekend; the frantic running around digging out shades and flip-flops from holiday days gone by; questioning the existence of that tent that was buried in mud on its last outing never to be seen again; jamming the car boot shut and blasting the tuuunes... we were OFF! 

Being only a stones throw from arguably the most beautiful County in the Country (and about to offend all who believe otherwise), we set the manual sat nav (old fashioned map) for Cornwall - Kernow - land of plenty. 

After a quick bicker and a dejected glance at our wonky tent, we set out for the nearby beach - Porthcurno. Gleefully hopping down the coast path (beach bag in tow, toes in the sand), we were stopped despondently in our track by the whiff of cheap sausages and the scream of small babies. Unfortunately, the rest of the tourist population had beaten us to our hidden gem. 

We weren't in the mood for giving up easily, and followed the coastal path down a steep hidden path clambering through the rocks. Lo and behold, we popped out onto a picture perfect Cove...a beauty to behold. Our eyes panned across to take it all in, the turquoise crystal clear water, the long white sand, the....hang about....the....NAKEDNESS! It was too late to turn back - we were here now, it would be rude to leave. And so it was that we embraced the nuddies, and a very pleasant afternoon was had prudishly bathing in tranquility amongst the free willies. 

Weary from all the snoozing, we stumbled back to refresh before taking an evening stroll to Lands End - the most westerly tip of the UK - to see in the Summer Solstice. As the sun set, our bellies rumbled and we made for Sennen Cove and 'The Success Inn" (a short mile or so away on the coastal path) only to arrive a disappointing 30 minutes after the lobster Kitchen closes (well, this is where even Cornwall lacks compared to 10pm tapas). Well, you can't win em all...a packet of ready salted later and we were ready to raise a glass half full "cheers" to many more long evenings here in the Southwest.

Moors and Christians - Fiesta en Alcoy!

After a few well earned days rest in Xativa, we headed to party to one of the biggest festivals in this region of Spain. Given that the people here have been celebrating this day since the 16th Century, it's a pretty big deal. 3 days, 5000 people, elaborate costumes, trombones, knife waving and an incomprehensible amount of cerveza (a dangerous combo)!

In a nutshell, the story goes that the christians march (/prance/dance/ride horses/are pulled by buffalo) into town followed by the moors. They get involved in a big battle outside the Castle when suddenly St George appears (this is where we started to feel very English!) and tells everyone to hurry up and let the Christians win. And then everyone retires to eat the biggest Paella I have ever seen and drink cerveza. Delightful.

The town of Alcoy doesn't disappoint as a backdrop for the Fiesta. It's perched upon a hill, and the small streets exude an almost medieval charm. Everyone gets involved...from tiny babies being carried through the procession in Daddy's arms, to cheeky teens sneaking a snog in the hidden gardens, to grandad taking advantage of the one night of the year he is allowed to get absolutely trollied! The whole town and people from miles around come out to play, and there is a real sense of family and friend camaraderie, friendliness and good honest fun. Of course, we jumped both feet in to the celebrations (had to stop J diving head first into the Paella) and it flew by in a whirl.

Xátiva on High

Leaving Valencia, we drove around 1 hour south to the town of Xátiva. Before we left the UK, we mentioned to a few that this funny little backwash town was on our agenda, and as you'd imagine we had a less that excitable response...hmmm was the general reaction. But I for one was extremely smug that we diverted this way, if only for the plush hip B&B we came upon here - La Maga rooms gets a big thumbs up, but only if you don't mind a liberal approach to open plan showering ;)

The town dates back to Roman times, and was once ruled by the Moors, who occupied its impressive Castle until around 1241. Beautifully preserved on its perch overlooking the old town below, this stunning fortress proved to be the royal highlight of our trip here. Lucky enough to be staying at the foot of the lofty hill on which it stands, we set out on the hot hike upwards. Although prepared for the long slog, we arrived at the top surprisingly quickly and the views didn't disappoint. We idled for a while in its walls and gardens, lookouts and dungeons before enjoying a quick bout of archery and a parting caña out on the terraza.

But this was just the beginning - on the way down, we stumbled across a cute hidden Terraza in the old church Ermita de Sant Josep. Of course, being English our 1pm hunger pang had long since arrived - for once, a true blessing that the Spaniards are slow off the mark as a petit table for two sat blinking at us in the sunshine. And gone was the afternoon, amidst local Monastrell white wine, Boquerones, Anchovies and Artichokes all doused with a typically generous glut of Olive Oil (Birdy Organic if olives float your oily boat). Oh, and not to forget the loooong siesta which must follow!

A great few days in an honest, local and understated town - trendy but truly antique - and the perfect place to recharge the batteries before the next town (and fiesta) calling.

Voluptuous Valencia

Famous for its juicy round oranges, its luscious lemons and beautiful all year sunshine, Valencia became the destination of choice for our May (wow, it's STILL rainy in the UK) getaway. Having visited its older siblings (Madrid and Barcelona), I had high expectations. By golly, it sure did live up to the lifestyle I found and miss back in Spain!

Having chosen our preferred mode of transport (the bici of course!), we pedalled out in search of a Sangria. We soon discovered that the city is connected by a long thin park along the old riverbed stretching from the City of Arts and Science (architectural gem, and the most photogenic subject I have ever had aside from myself) to the beautiful old town in the centre. What a fantastic way to get around, and we were not alone in our choice as locals and tourists alike zipped past on the local hire bikes - well worth the weekly 13 Euros if you're there for a wee while.


Lucky enough to have our Valencian friends show us around, we strolled between open plazas, wonderful old Arab buildings, from  Gothic to Renaissance, Baroque to Neo-Classical. Not being as architecturally clued as we may like, we were happy to wander in the sunshine and appreciate the panoramic views from the Cathedral (The Seu). On the way out, we couldn't help but feed our curiosity in seeing the 35th most popular tripadvisor site - that of the mummified arm of St Vincent de Martir - complete with surprisingly sparkly jewellery and wax stamp of España which is preserved within the Cathedral. Tripadvisor review no. 655 - feeling rather queasy and extremely freaked out as i'm sure you will too when you zoom in on that photo.


Not wanting for that to be our final image of Valencia, we set out in search of the culinary delights at the City Market - a bustle of colours, smells and tastes from the lush agricultural garden surrounding the city, and the cool fresh neighbouring ocean. The perfect place for collecting goodies for tapas nights back in the UK. But we couldn't leave this humble City without trying the dish for which it is famous - Paella of course. I am a complete novice to this, and not wanting to be disappointed we followed passionately dealt advise to head to Albufera lagoon just out of town where it's said that the first Paella was created. And my my, what a treat - Arroz Negro (Squid in its Ink) accompanied by our trusted Sangria at the tasty Restaurante La Dehesa Jose Luis overlooking the beach at El Saler.

Bellies full, we said goodbye to this wonderful City and continued onward with a promise to a) learn to cook a decent Paella, b) to return, and c) never to allow my arm to be mummified.

Southwest Coast Path: Shaldon to Maidencombe

Well not surprisingly, the first (and perhaps only) people crazy enough to venture the 5 hour drive to Exeter from the North were the parents. And so it was that on a fine (almost freakishly warm) spring weekend, we ventured out to show off Devon's finest spots. What better way to appreciate the County than a gusty huff puff coastal walk.

We started out at Shaldon on the River Teign - a quaint little fishing village steeped in maritime history. I'd love to tell you that the eery and mysterious smuggling tunnel which routes from the Ness Pub to the stunning Ness Cove had a sordid contraband past. But alas, we are in the South, and true to form it was gifted to a rich family as a hunting retreat and summer residence...of course, they couldn't be walking too far to the beach so the passage was carved out as a convenient route to a seaside dip from their front door.

Heading out positively on the 3 mile stroll from Shaldon to the village of Maidencombe, a well earned pint was already in the back of our minds. But as we are slowly discovering, the coast path here is not always kind. Just as nature gave so generously with it's incredible sea views, it also took (in the form of air from our lungs) with its roly poly hills. Highs and Lows took on a whole new meaning as even Poppy the dog struggled to catch a breath. Past fields and woods, grassy peaks and deep hidden coves, we breathed it all in and sweat it all out. Finally stopping to rest with a fat slice of home made treacle cake, we were rewarded with warm rays and cool views.

Descending into Maidencombe with tummies grumbling, thoughts came once again to that promised pint. If you had asked any one of us about our expectations on arrival, i'm sure none would have even come close to the little gem of a pub
that we found. A picture perfect 'Thatched Tavern' with a cottage garden bathed in sunshine and a well to wish our supper to appear - fantastic crab sandwiches and great local ales. All polished off with a mad dash to the bus back...well, we do like to keep the oldies on their toes!

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