adventure

As the sun disappears behind the high tree line, our campfire spits and crackles. Four plump trout are sizzling on a flame-heated slab of rock, a cooking technique used by people in the Gurghiu mountains, part of Transylvania’s Eastern Carpathians, for centuries. Apart from gentle birdsong, it’s the only sound up here, 1,550 metres above sea level and far from any town or village.

“This area is very wild,” says Samir Teslovan, who drove us up through the densely forested peaks from his guesthouse in Toplița. “When I come here to the mountains, I charge my battery, charge my soul. I feel free, like the wind.”

Sitting on the edge of a fragrant forest of spruce, fir, beech and pine, our view stretches over the valley to misty mountains receding in layers to the horizon. Samir points to a far-off peak in the east, a pyramid on a ragged ridge. “That’s Ukraine, maybe 200km,” he tells us. Then, pointing west: “That way, 400km, is Hungary.” The forest is still home to bears, wolves and lynx, but it’s the solitude that brings him here. “I prefer wild zones, where no one goes,” he says. “There are places here that nobody knows.”

Across the vast forests and mountains of Harghita County in central Romania, there are many places that nobody knows. In fact, the whole region has flown under the radar of international travellers – 85% of visitors come from Romania itself, which feels bizarre when you discover the wonders here, as we did on a 12-day family road trip, staying at self-catering lodges and cabins along the way.

A holiday here costs a fraction of what it would in the Dolomites or the French or Swiss Alps. Even better, it’s remarkably uncrowded, which makes for a more authentic-feeling adventure.

The region previously belonged to the Austro-Hungarian empire, but Transylvania, including Harghita, was awarded to Romania after the first world war. The local population remains largely of Hungarian descent (about 85%), with most people identifying as Székelys (Szeklers), a distinct, Hungarian-speaking cultural group. And the Hungarian influence can be seen in the region’s food, from goulash to kürtőskalács (chimney cakes), and in the ornately carved székelykapu (wooden gates) outside houses.

We pick up a hire car in Brașov and drive north, in the opposite direction to Bran Castle and all the vampiric hoopla. Soon, we’re enjoying wide, open countryside, sharing the road with farmers on horse-drawn carts and passing churches with silvery spires and white storks nesting on top of electricity poles.

Our first base is Sâncrăieni, staying in Organicle Lodge, a lovely, quiet cabin with an upstairs spruce bedroom, spacious lounge and kitchen. While our four-year-old son races around the garden with the owners’ cats and French bulldog, we rest on our wooden deck, drinking Harghita beer, looking over a paddock, where a brown horse and white pony gambol and graze, and out towards the Harghita mountains. In the evenings, swifts flit about and white storks glide across pink skies.

We spend time at nearby Lacul Sfânta Ana (Saint Anne Lake), the only volcanic lake in Romania, wandering first through Mohoş Peat Bog, where the trees and curious plant life make it feel like stepping back into the ice age, then take a boat trip on the sparkling lake, surrounded on all sides by shades of forest green. In the evening, we head to Medveles Székelyföld observatory, where we watch four bears feeding on corn that’s laid out for them; Harghita has one of the highest bear population densities in Europe. The best sighting of our trip, though, comes during our drive to the lake, when we spot a mother and cub ambling through the forest and sniffing the air by the roadside.

Heading farther north, we spend a couple of days at Vila Adela, near Lacu Roșu (Red Lake), an orange house decorated with red geraniums, with fairy houses, windmills, animal statues, see-saw and slide in the garden. Our bedroom looks out on to the majestic limestone massif Suhardul Mic.

Later, we drive through Bicaz Gorge, gazing up at massive rock walls and structures, dominated by Piatra Altarului (Altar Rock), the summit marked with a metal cross. Stopping to climb the tower of medieval manor house Lázár Castle en route, we reach Toplița at the far north of the county, staying at Casa Samir, where Samir and his son David run wildlife photography and nature tours.

After a steep and bumpy afternoon drive, we go hiking in the serene Gurghiu mountains. Golden sunlight winks through the trees as David points out the tracks of wild animals as we walk to where his father has parked and started a campfire. Along with trout, Samir serves a homemade salty sheep’s cheese, called burduf, and lamb sausage, both from his farm, and a bottle of palinka, a warming plum brandy. “I’ve been coming here all my life,” he tells us. “My grandfather and great-grandfather came here. I listen to the silence and the sounds of the forest, the birds and wild animals.”

Looping back around through the county, we make one final stop at Turul Guesthouse, a row of neat, two-storey, wooden lodges with hot tubs and a big trampoline. We wander among detailed models of Transylvanian castles, palaces, and churches, including Bran Castle, at Mini Transylvania Park and large-scale, moving models of ants, butterflies and the like at neighbouring Insect Park.

One morning, we hike up to the top of Harghita Mădăraș, at 1,801m (5,909ft) the highest peak in the Harghita mountains. Thunder rumbles and rain drenches us, as we reach the gold, white and blue Székely flag, the reportedly magnificent views blocked out by cloud that gives a sombre, funereal atmosphere to the cairns, flags, crosses and other memorials clustered around the summit.

We watch more bears at a tucked-away forest hide outside the Băile Homorod resort, including two mighty females who look as if they might clash over the feeding area, and spend one of our last afternoons at Zetea lake, where we take out a kayak. “It’s really a beautiful experience to be on the water,” Előd Tímár, co-owner of KayaKing, tells us. “Bears sometimes come to drink on the shore.”

Paddling south towards a forested peninsula, we’re surrounded on all sides by swaying trees. We pause in the vast expanse of open water and put down the paddles to float and drift for a while, and there it is again: a glorious, battery-charging feeling of peace, nature and being free, like the wind.

The trip was provided by Visit Harghita. Graeme stayed at Organicle Lodge (from £75 a night), Vila Adela (£50), Casa Samir (£43 B&B) which offers mountain adventures from £94 per person, and Turul Guesthouse (£87). Bear-watching at Medveles Székelyföld £35pp and at Băile Homorod £25pp. Kayaking with KayaKing from £6.50 per hour

With ski slopes in winter and beautiful lochs to swim in during summer, the town of Aviemore in Scotland is like Britain’s very own alpine resort – albeit on a smaller scale.

We arrive at Aviemore Holiday Park, where our wooden lodge overlooks the River Spey in the stunning Cairngorms National Park, to be greeted by several ducks who seem keen to pop through the sliding French doors for a visit.

I count my lucky stars that we’ve left our dog Daisy at home, as the ducks would be toast.

Work your quads

There’s so much to do in the Scottish Highlands that it’s hard to know where to begin, but a sightseeing tour on quad bikes is a great start.

Whizzing through the Rothiemurchus Estate, we stop to see Highland cows and have a great view of the snow-topped Cairngorms in the distance. One-hour tours cost £59 per person (Rothiemurchus.net).

My daughter Riley, 15, and I are speed demons, but my son Harris, also 15, finds it nerve-wracking.

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He does love another activity on the estate, though – clay pigeon shooting.

During our 90-minute session, £59 per person, we learn how to load, hold and carry our guns before shooting at various targets – some flying through the air, others crossing in front of us.

I’m embarrassingly bad, whereas Harris’ hours on Call Of Duty pay off and he trounces all of us.

Water view

There are around 60 major lochs in Cairngorms National Park.

Loch an Eilein, a 15-minute stroll from our lodge, is particularly scenic and takes less than an hour to walk around.

Loch Insh, meanwhile, is a 15-minute drive and offers tons of watersports, including paddleboarding and canoeing, as well as dry-slope skiing and mountain biking.

The rain starts as we cycle, so by the time we return we’re soaked, but also feeling exhilarated – and delicious hot chocolates from the cafe soon warm us all up.

A family day ticket to Loch Insh, which includes most activities, costs £175 (Lochinsh.com).

It’s summit else

Hiking up Cairngorm Mountain is also well worth it. It’s a good two hours to the top, but the view from the 1,245m summit is incredible.

We celebrate our achievement that evening at the friendly and buzzy Old Bridge Inn.

Sitting by the river, we dig into Loch Bloom oysters, £10 for three, steamed Ling cod with ginger and soy broth and pak choi, £24, and lamb curry pie, £24, while burgers with twice-cooked chips are a winner with the kids.

The white chocolate and lemongrass mousse, £9, is also a must (Oldbridgeinn.co.uk).

Further afield, The Penny Bun, tucked away in Glenmore Forest, is a local secret. It serves up seasonal dishes inspired by the landscape, with a constantly changing menu.

We feast on cured halibut, £11, and hot mackerel pâté, £10, before Peterhead goujons with fries and masala sauce, £21, go down a treat, as do braised pigs cheeks, £23 (Thepennybun.co.uk).

And for a cheap night in, the Happy Haggis cooks up unrivalled fish and chips, £13.80, though you can also channel your inner Scot with battered haggis and chips, £9.60, washed down with an Irn Bru (Harkai.co.uk).

After a week in the fresh Scottish air and falling asleep to the sounds of the rippling river, we return to London feeling refreshed and vowing to go back for ’More.

Late summer hiking in the Austrian Alps

Haldensee is a clear, sparkling cold lake located at the bottom of the Tannheimer Tal valley in the Austrian Alps (about 90 miles south-west of Munich). We visited last year, just when summer was on its way out, and it was too cold to skinny-dip in the lake (unless you were very brave). Nonetheless, if you’re a hiker, a ski lift takes you up into the Allgäu Alps where you can walk through dense forest to Bad Kissinger Hütte serving refreshing apfelschorle, warming soups and seasonal bakes to refuel for the journey downhill. When going down, we were accompanied by tinkling cattle, ambling along the mountain-side springs, which made the experience so much more memorable.
Kovida

Mountain tracks of Lake Garda, Italy

Northern Lake Garda, where the mountains tower above the lake, is one huge adventure playground: walking, cycling, climbing, boat trips and all manner of watersports on the lake. There are castles, waterfalls and valley cycle trails. The old Ponale mountain road might be the pick for cycling (best on ebike) and walking. It winds through tunnels and clings to the rock with spectacular views over the lake. At Ponale Alto enjoy a hearty pasta dish washed down with a local beer or wine, before returning downhill all the way.
Dave Thomas

Swiss bliss near Mont Blanc

Skip the crowds of Chamonix and spend a week at La Fouly, in south-west Switzerland. Some walking routes are busy (it is a hub for the famous Tour du Mont Blanc walk) but there are plenty of walks to choose from, many of which are not on the main trail. Walk to the Lacs de Fenêtre, where you can hear the gurgling burps of rock ptarmigans at first light, and the shrieks of marmots as you descend back down into the valley. We camped by cool, fast-flowing rivers at Camping des Glaciers in La Fouly.
Daniel

Meadows and cowbells in Slovenia

The loudest sound in Slovenia’s Logar Valley is usually a cowbell. A narrow road runs through flower-filled meadows to the foot of the Kamnik-Savinja Alps, but it’s best explored on foot or by bike, stopping at the little farms that sell homemade cheese and apple juice. Follow the easy trail to the 90-metre Rinka waterfall, then linger over lunch at one of the mountain inns to enjoy the view. I stayed overnight in a family-run guesthouse, and by early evening the day visitors had gone, leaving the valley almost silent except for swallows and grazing cattle.
Susanna C

Dragonflies and lilies on Italy’s secret lake

The spring-fed Lago di Monate, between the much larger lakes of Maggiore and di Varese, has possibly the freshest swimming water in Italy, chiefly because of its longstanding ban on motorboats. You can hire paddleboards to cross the calm surface to vast lily beds, blooming in summer and alive with dragonflies. The grassy beach with sunbeds and umbrellas at Il Coppale is very reasonable with evening meal (fresh fish, naturally) on their terrace at about €25 with a view over the lake to the Alps.
Tim Leadbetter

Alpine ambience in Bavaria

Looking for a reasonable budget autumnal trip, a search on the usual sites led us to Bavaria, and the outdoorsy town of Ruhpolding. Alpine atmosphere was immediately delivered, with a charming unpretentious ambience. There is a really impressive waterpark and cool blue lakes, such as Lödensee and Weitsee. Hikes through classical Alpine scenery took us to an alm, a mountain refuge in high meadows where local milk and beer was served with platters of meat and cheese. A little further away the huge Chiemsee gave us a day at the beach. A stop in Munich on the way back allowed us to visit the excellent BMW museum, part of which is free.
Brian Lowry

Cycling the Velosud this summer was the perfect trip to the mountains without having to cycle up or down them. We spent two weeks leisurely following the signposted route in the foothills of the Pyrenees, often alongside rivers, with mountain views every day. It’s all either traffic-free or on very quiet roads, and passes by spa towns such as Salies-du-Salat, the beautiful Foix and Mirepoix, and lovely, low-key but well equipped campsites (always with swimming pool, aperitif and morning croissants).
Rowan

A cross-border trek on the Camino Francés

I’ve walked close to 2,000km of the Camino de Santiago, traversing Spain from the Pyrenees to the Galician coast and following the crashing waves of the Atlantic Portuguese coast in northern Portugal. One of the most stunning stretches of the Camino Francés (part of the Camino de Santiago) takes you from the French Pyrenean town of St-Jean-Pied-de-Port to the Spanish village of Roncesvalles. It’s a very tough climb, but it’s well worth the effort. In the early morning mist, as you approach the border with Spain, the panoramic views from above the cloud line will take your breath away. A truly spectacular experience.
Stephen Taylor

Tuscany’s wild side

It’s amazing that the Alpi Apuane are not better known. This raw, jagged cluster of marble peaks forms a dramatic backdrop to the bucket-and-spade beaches of northern Tuscany. These mountains are laced with challenging trails, including the multi-day Via Vandelli, linking Modena to the coast. The valleys shelter quiet, refreshing streams and half-forgotten villages. Above the treeline, the hiker is rewarded with expansive views of the mountains, the sea, and the surreal marble quarries hewn from the mountainsides. This is the wild side of Tuscany.
Robert

Winning tip: The Vosges mountains by train

The Vosges mountains in eastern France are made up of forest-covered rounded peaks called ballons, and are accessible by train. The line between Colmar and Metzeral provides easy access into the Wormsa valley, where forest paths climb past streams to the peaceful Lac du Fischboedle, surrounded by trees. From there you can climb the third highest mountain in the Vosges, Hohneck (1,363 metres), for sweeping views towards the Alps. The food in the region is delicious, especially tarte flambée (flammekueche), a traditional thin flatbread topped with creme fraiche, onions and bacon.
Hannah

The water off Palanga’s sandy white beach is tinged pale green – the colour of the feathery clouds of Furcellaria lumbricalis that occasionally brush against my calves. Underfoot, the Baltic seabed is ridged, the sea so clear and shallow that every ripple is visible. The water deepens very gradually – making it ideal for families. I’m quite far from the coast, but still only thigh deep, the sea still cool as I duck beneath the surface.

Elsewhere in Europe, another heatwave has prompted health warnings and school closures. But here in Lithuania, children scamper on the sand and splash in the shallows as temperatures remain, if not cool, bearable. I’ve come to explore some of the Baltic beaches – here and on the Curonian Spit – which are fast gaining popularity as the Med heats up and prices in southern Europe remain stubbornly high.

Palanga has been drawing Lithuanian holidaymakers since the wealthy Tiškevičiai family transformed it into a seaside resort in the mid-19th century. Today, there is a certain rowdy seaside vibe in parts: the central beach can get crowded and the promenade is on the kitsch side too, with many of the historic wooden buildings – demolished or damaged in the Soviet era – replaced by brash signage, entertainment venues and raucous restaurants.

Nonetheless, the main beach is reassuringly devoid of construction and characterised primarily by its distinctive 19th-century L-shaped pier, a popular sunset-catching spot. Away from the shore, you need only stroll the 100-hectare (250-acre) botanical garden, home to the 19th-century Tiškevičiai Palace and amber museum, with its thousands of prehistoric exhibits, to witness a different past. A bronze sculpture of Feliksas Tiškevičius stands just outside the park; legend has it that if you rub his foot with yours and kiss his cheek, good luck will follow.

Just a 10-minute cycle ride away from the pier, my hotel, the Gradiali (B&B doubles from €118), is another peaceful oasis. From here, a 500-metre walk through aromatic pine forest leads to an uncrowded section of Palanga beach, where €75 (£64) gets you all-day use of a curtained cabana, complete with a bottle of prosecco and a mountain of ice-cream. (I’ve paid at least double that on the Greek island of Mykonos – and that was just for the bed.)

There are other ways to get into the water around Palanga, including wakeboarding at the 313 Cable Park (from €20), about 2.5 miles (4km) from the town, or plunging into one of the 16 leisure and mineral pools at the Atostogų Parkas complex (from €30), about 4 miles away. But I’m on a mission to explore Lithuania’s more untamed side – the Curonian Spit, a protected 61-mile stretch of dense forest and Blue Flag beaches accessed only via the modern port city of Klaipėda, a half-hour drive away. Trains run to Klaipėda from the capital, Vilnius, too – and electrification of the train line next year will reduce the 205-mile journey time by 30 minutes to four hours.

With its waterfront setting, compact old town and restored castle complex, Klaipėda makes for a pleasant afternoon stop – but I’m eager to board the ferry (approximately €1.70), which has me on the spit within 10 minutes. Threaded by bike and walking trails, this narrow stretch of sand peninsula – flanked by the Baltic Sea on one side and the Curonian Lagoon on the other – is occupied in the south by Russia. Observation decks near the border allow glimpses of a similarly forested landscape, but one punctuated by watchtowers.

As fascinating as this off-limits area is, it’s the older stories about the spit that bewitch me. Legend has it the giant Neringa formed it by pouring sand from her apron to create a protective break between the irascible Baltic Sea and her people. The amber fragments, which still wash up on the peninsula’s beaches, are said to be the debris from an underwater amber castle, shattered in rage by the thunder god Perkūnas when Jūratė, goddess of the sea, fell in love with a mortal.

But some of the area’s most haunting tales are not mere myth. On an evening trip in a traditional flat-bottomed fishing boat from the harbour in Nida – the spit’s largest town – our skipper Aurelijus Armonavičius speaks of the vagaries of shifting sands and the 18th-century felling of forests, which led to the slow burial of 14 villages and two cemeteries on the spit. Only through the building of a sand ridge and concerted reforestation efforts has this – now Unesco-listed – landscape been preserved.

My accommodation, Hotel Nidus (B&B doubles from €119), lies between lagoon and beach, and features basic, comfortable rooms and expansive gardens. I head to the harbour for dinner at Nidos Prieplauka, watching the sunset and sampling the cold, kefir-based beetroot soup – a traditional Lithuanian dish so adored that there’s an annual springtime festival held for it in the capital.

The following day, I meet Angelina Ivanova, from Nida’s tourism centre, to bike to Vecekrugas Dune. At 67 metres (220ft) above sea level, it is the spit’s highest point: the flatness of the landscape, as well as its pine needle-strewn bike paths, make it manageable for even the least experienced cyclists. As we walk from our bikes to the peak, the ground is scarred with furrows of dark earth; the work of wild boar. Clusters of mushrooms stud the soil; foraging is a beloved Baltic activity – although the protected status of the Curonian Spit means that it is off limits in certain areas, such as the Nagliai nature reserve, about 11 miles from Nida.

The area is also a migratory path for millions of birds such as peregrine falcons and red kites. This being high summer, we see mostly gulls and cormorants. “The shoulder seasons are our busiest for twitchers,” says Angelina, as we reach the top of the dune. And, with water on both sides – at points separated by as little as 400 metres – the spit sustains not only these migratory birds, but also the fishing traditions that have traditionally shaped life here.

We continue on to Preila, about a mile away. A tiny village on the lagoon, it is home to a row of smoke-fishing shacks. “Everybody has their favourite,” says Angelina, as we peruse that day’s offerings: hers is Rimo Žuvis, owned by the parents of her schoolfriend. Eel, considered a delicacy, is the most expensive dish on the menu, but we opt for sea perch and turbot, which we eat at picnic tables overlooking the water, accompanied by bread, fresh tomatoes and cold beer. Later, we will end the day back in the sea at Nida, with the midsummer sun hanging high in the sky and temperatures still hovering pleasantly in the 20s.

The trip was provided by the Neringa, Klaipėda, Palanga and Kretinga tourism offices, with accommodation at Hotel Nidus and Hotel Gradiali

After three years, “Ted Lasso” has returned to the pitch. Did it need to? The third season finale, which seemed until now to be a series finale, brought most every character’s arc to a satisfying, credible conclusion — the less satisfying ones were just as credible — while pointing to a future you were free to imagine, or think nothing more about. Or you could write fan fiction. (People do.) I loved the show, but its absence has not been a painful one.

Anyway, it’s back, beginning Wednesday on Apple TV, and I am glad enough. Strictly speaking, it’s a new adventure, as one Indiana Jones movie might follow another, with Jason Sudeikis’ title character returning to Richmond to manage a new women’s soccer team, a project raised way back at the end of Season 3, and which now has “been three years in the making.”

Where are we now? Star player Jamie Tartt has departed the show all the way to Barcelona; kit man turned coach turned competition turned kit man Nate Shelley is nowhere to be seen. But as much may be said of the whole of AFC Richmond, apart from Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein), who took over as manager when Ted returned to Kansas City, Mo., to spend more time with son Henry (Grant Feely, replacing Gus Turner), and Coach Beard (Brendan Hunt), who has turned into an uncommunicative mass of hair. This is not at all that team’s story, though certain fans within (and perhaps without) the world of the series might prefer that it was.

Four episodes out of 10 have been made available for review. The first is something of a hurdle, bogged down in contrivances to get Ted back to Richmond from Kansas City, where he has been “trying to help [Henry] become the best version of himself.” The question is whether Ted, working part time as the assistant manager of a supermarket, is living the best version of himself. The answer, as everyone but Ted recognizes, is no. Naturally, he spreads sunshine all over the place, being who he is, but this is not the future you would have written for him, nor one suggested by the third season finale, where we saw him coaching Henry’s soccer team. But it gives him a place to come back from.

Hannah Waddingham, left, and Juno Temple in “Ted Lasso.”

And so club owner Rebecca Welton (Hannah Waddingham), director of operations Leslie Higgins (Jeremy Swift) and queen of all marketing Keeley Jones (Juno Temple) show up on Ted’s doorstep to propose that he manage the Lady Greyhounds, “to lay the foundations of the Richmond culture that you created with our men.” (He has not been checking his messages, apparently, necessitating this in-person, three-person visit.)

In addition to dragging the pieces into place, much of the opening episode seems meant to satisfy an impulse to show off Kansas City — Sudeikis grew up in that area. There are multiple excursions for barbecue, each resulting in stained clothes for Rebecca. There’s a trip to CPKC Stadium, “the first privately funded stadium in the world solely for pro women’s soccer,” to see the Kansas City Current play.

Finding the American Jazz Museum closed, Higgins (earlier established as a double bassist) wanders across 18th Street to the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, where a friendly docent (Milan Carter) schools him on its history, including a long tribute to pitcher Satchel Paige, with oddly interpolated documentary footage. (Higgins ventures that their experience is “quite similar to how women in England weren’t allowed to play football for years,” an idea his Black host shoots down with a well-aimed, “Mmmmm.”)

“They didn’t do it for fame or fortune. They did it ‘cause to not play would have been unacceptable,” he’s told. Or, as former AFC Richmond striker Dani Rojas said of soccer: “Football is life.”

Things improve in the more natural second episode (and improve from there), which takes us finally back to Richmond. Ted’s only real objection to leaving Kansas City is almost too easily overcome by suggesting that Henry and his mother, Michelle (Andrea Anders), the ex- but not estranged wife, come with him. Having won over all doubters over the first three seasons, Ted needs someone new to charm, and that will be coach Alice Chilton (Tanya Reynolds), who had hoped for the manager’s job. She’s a little rain cloud of a person, dour and humorless, though perhaps rightly offended by being passed over. Reynolds, who’ll certainly emerge as the season’s star, makes a big impression by holding things in, acting almost entirely with her eyes, so that when she cracks a smile in spite of herself, it registers as huge.

Jude Mack as player Boots in “Ted Lasso.”

Among the players, our attention is directed to Boots (Jude Mack), whom we notice because of her short-cropped hair, and because she’s the goalkeeper, and has a quirk — though she’s a powerhouse, “none of the big clubs will touch her because she won’t wear gloves.” (She prefers to keep things tactile. “What’s the point of life if you’re not feeling it?” Boots asks in another of the show’s sampler sentiments.) Lizzie (Faye Marsay) stands out because she arrives to an open call with a cute child in tow and is older and more mature than the others, Gemma (Abbie Hern), by virtue of having unresolved old business with Alice, and having, like Ted, to be talked onto the team.

The underdog aspect of it all will be emphasized, of course — a new team, in a money-losing second division, with second-rate locker room accommodations, seasoned with sexism that may or may not reflect actual British attitudes toward women’s soccer. Feminist themes, always present vis-a-vis Rebecca and Keeley, not unreasonably take the foreground, with Rebecca overcorrecting the thought that she might not be one — a funny conversation with Harriet Walter as her mother comes out of this — and Tracey Ullman arriving in Episode 4 to be badass.

By the end of that episode, there will have been enough sweet, celebratory moments to have rewarded your investment. (I gauge this scientifically by how often I choke up.) Where the story is going in any substantial way, other than, you know, win games, maybe get Roy and Keeley back together, do something interesting with Henry and/or Michelle, it’s too soon to tell. I assume it’s going somewhere, but we’ll find that out together.

‘I miss my camels. I miss the sun. I miss the vast emptiness of the desert plains …” These are my thoughts as I trudge through thick conifer plantations and my fifth consecutive hour of rain at the start of the Affric Kintail Way in the Scottish Highlands.

My last big adventure was a world first. I became the first recorded person to walk the full length of Saudi Arabia, north to south, from Jordan to Yemen. It took three years to organise, then 112 days of walking half a marathon a day, and I had a backup team plus Juicy and Lulu, my naughty but nice camels.

It was a fantastic, life-enhancing, often brutal, endeavour but it is over. Adventurers have got to adventure though, and I was looking for something cheap in my own country that needed little organisation or backup. I am a proud Scot and, even though I spend so much time away, I feel a strong emotional pull to my homeland, an almost physical attachment to the landscape and the thousands of ancestors who have walked it before me.

There are an abundance of long-distance walking trails in Scotland, and after many happy hours checking out the options on Walk Highlands, I settle on the Affric Kintail Way. It’s a doable distance – 44 miles (71km) in four days; easy to get to and from by bus from Edinburgh; and according to my brother, Robbie, Glen Affric is one of the most beautiful areas of the country.

Preparations are simple. I buy a map, read all the information on the dedicated website, download the route on the AllTrails app and pack my rucksack. I’m doing it solo, self-supported and wild camping, so need to take everything with me but also keep my pack as light as possible. In the end it weighs around 12kg, which is not bad. My luxury is four Ferrero Rocher chocolates given to me by my mum – one for each evening.

The bus drops me off at Drumnadrochit and I walk straight up into the forests. The rain is constant, but I enjoy the sharp smell of the conifers and the sound of the cuckoos. There’s plenty of up, but the way is easy to follow along the Forestry Commission tracks. I keep checking my weather app, which promises a half-hour break in the rain, as it is so much better to pitch a tent in the dry. It comes to 6pm and I get my tent up just before the rain starts again. I’ve done a respectable 5 miles or so since the bus dropped me off, in about four hours.

The next morning, I drop down into Cannich and history is waiting for me after a long pull up out of the village. My plan is to walk about 11 miles today. Comar Wood Dun is about 250m off the path. It is a jumble of stones perched at a lookout point over the strath. Once, it was a drystone fortified house and home to a family and their animals between 400BCE and 200AD. Life must have been so hard. It is cold and wet even in June. Barley was the main crop, grown in small clearances in the wood, augmented with meat and milk from the livestock.

One of the great pleasures for me of walking in these wild places, whether it is the Highlands of Scotland or the deserts of the Arabian peninsula, is finding these echoes from the past and wondering what life was like then. Were the people happy? Were there compensations for this hard life? How did they deal with all the extremes of nature that we have managed to smooth out with our air conditioning and heating? By hiking and camping, I am trying to get closer to them in some way.

I spend the night beside Dog Falls and the morning is another haul through the forests. Sitting in my midge net at the Glen Affric car park overlooking the inlet to Loch Beinn a’Mheadhoin, hunger kicks in and I wolf down a roll, a big bag of Revels and my emergency veggie sausage rolls – a large chunk of my provisions.

I’ve been walking steadily up and down through woodlands, interspersed with farmland. This area is one of the UK’s most ancient natural woodlands – more than 10,000 years old – and is dominated by gnarly Scots pines and silvery birch.

My heart yearns for the open spaces, though, and I’m glad when it starts to open up and I see the hills rise on either side of Loch Affric. I’m alone almost all of the time: in four days, I meet just eight people. It’s just me and the green of the hills and the deep black of the loch between them. My heavy pack hurts my shoulders, and my feet are sore from the hard tracks, but I feel so alive. I relish the adventure of being on my own, self-reliant and with no one to worry about or answer to.

When the rain stops and the sun comes out, the grassy uplands glow almost neon-bright. I stop to drink peaty water from a burn and fantasise about living in the tiny wooden hut on the sandy shores of the loch. It’s my third night of camping and the best so far, just me and the geese, but I feel completely safe and relaxed within nature.

The next day, my fourth on the trail, I’m on a mission. I need to get some provisions from the Glen Affric hostel and do a solid 10 miles so that I only have a shortish walk the day after to catch the bus. I hike as fast as I can until I finally see the hostel ahead – this tiny outpost is among Scotland’s most remote hostels. I put out my tent to dry on their fence and get to the door. “Shut between 10.00 and 17.00”.

Disconsolate, I sit at the side and contemplate my life choices. Then, a woman shrieks as she sees me unexpectedly – Chrissie, who runs the hostel and kindly lets me in to buy chocolate, crisps and a fizzy drink. Sugar and fat consumed, I feel whole again and happily share a story of camels and Saudi hospitality for the sound art project she is doing. She is recording poems, stories and songs from people who stay in the hostel for an exhibition.

I continue onwards, struggling on the ups. With a couple of miles to go, my pack feels as if it’s full of rocks. I try to focus on the waterfalls all around me, dashing loudly down the rocks to meet the rivers Affric and Croe.

I walk down to a small, flat clearing beside one of them. It’s the perfect camp spot, but if I stop now I’ve failed to reach my 10-mile goal. The sun comes out and I see there’s even a flat rock to sit on. I throw my manufactured goals and failure guilt to the wind and pitch my tent.

No billionaire is richer than I am that night in that place. I sit on my rock looking out over the peaks and listening to the music of the water. Tomorrow, I will eat my porridge and walk out by the river to the bus and everyday life. But for tonight I am queen of the world.

For more information visit: Walk Highlands, the Affric Kintail Way website and alltrails.com. The bus from Inverness goes to Drumnadrochit and picks up at The Pit Stop cafe at Kintail (citylink.co.uk)

Alice’s website is alicemorrison.co.uk; she is also on Instagram

THE longest outdoor tubing slide in the UK has finally opened at an adventure park – and it’s just in time for the summer holidays.

Families can now enjoy the new attraction, which offers visitors the chance to slide down 315ft on a doughnut-shaped inflatable.

Located at Roarr! park in Norfolk, Fossil Falls is even bigger than the 288ft-long Forest Tubing experience, which opened at Heaton Park’s Zip World in May.

The £300,000 ride was officially opened on Saturday by Matty Campbell, better known as Bionic from Gladiators.

He said: “It was amazing to see so many people turn out for the opening of Fossil Falls and the atmosphere has been incredible.

“I’m delighted to have been here to officially open it and see so many families enjoy it.”

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Ben Francis, park director at Roarr!, said: “What a way to open Fossil Falls.

“We’ve had thousands of visitors joining us over the weekend and it’s been fantastic to see families enjoying the ride for the very first time.”

Fossil Falls attraction joins other popular features at the 85-acre park.

This includes Dippy’s Splash Zone and Predator High Ropes.

Other attractions at Roarr!, which is billed as the UK’s largest dinosaur theme park, include the Swing-O-Saurus and the Raptor Contraptor.

All attractions are included in the price of entry.

“It’s all about tuning into the culture of the sea,” helmsman Chris O’Brien tells me, scanning the rippling cobalt horizon from the wheel of a catamaran. “People find the water, and the meditative experience of sailing, healing.” Meditative isn’t a word that usually comes to mind when talking about cross-Channel ferries on a bank holiday weekend, but this is no ordinary ferry.

Launched last year, SailLink operates a largely wind-powered (engines are only used when necessary) service from Dover to Boulogne up to five times a week between April and mid-September, with a new Shoreham to Fécamp route due to start trials later this year.

Being able to bring bikes on board and swerve large customs queues are big draws for many travellers (officials come to the boat to check documents, so there’s no waiting around in terminals). For my two teenage sons, however, the clincher is a chance to have a go at sailing, and turn a four to five-hour journey into an adventure.

We arrive in Dover by train, strolling to the marina in 15 minutes, past the town’s beach and the elegant Georgian terraces of Waterloo Crescent, before reaching SailLink’s designated pontoon. Less than 45 minutes later we’re on board, watching Dover’s castle and white cliffs recede as a few of the more eager passengers help to haul the sails.

The catamaran can carry 12 passengers. Among them are Paul and Caroline Docherty from York, who took a train to London and cycled down through Kent. “The cycle was hot and unpleasant so we thought maybe we’d just sail from Hull next time, but I’m sold,” says Caroline. “I’m loving it.” So, too, are my sons who, after a lesson in steering from Chris, have sprawled out on the nets at the front of the boat, looking out for dolphins as we cut a course to Boulogne.

On this calm, sunny day, we’re lulled by the gentle lifting and sinking of the boat and, by the time we arrive in Boulogne, we’ve swayed ourselves into a gentler rhythm, tuned into the wind, the waves and the tides.

It’s a fitting approach to Boulogne-sur-Mer, a city so deeply shaped by the sea it anchors its name to it. Historically a strategic link between Britain and France, today it’s still France’s largest fishing port, home to a venerable fish market and Europe’s largest aquarium, Nausicaá.

Swimming against a tide of visitors flowing into Nausicaá, we pick up ebikes and trace a route north along the Vélomaritime cycle path to Cap Gris-Nez. As we pedal along the coast, passing Wimereux’s brightly coloured belle epoque villas, dipping into the sea from Ambleteuse’s bleach-blond beach and weaving inland through fields stippled with catapulting skylarks, it feels as far from the flat, industrial and battle-blitzed stereotype of the Pas-de-Calais as it’s possible to get.

At Cap Gris-Nez, the Channel narrows to its slimmest point and we peer out towards Kent, buffeted by the breeze as we eat baguettes stuffed with gooey cheese.

Back in Boulogne, we call in at the Maison de la Beurière, the house of a typical local fishing family, presented as it would have been in the late 19th century. The museum’s former head, Jean-Pierre Ramet, tells us how dominant the sea was over the lives of these families. The sea was both respected and feared, he adds: “The arrival of the radio, with its scientific weather forecasts, prompted a huge decline in religion here.”

With our forecast still looking sunny, we leave the coast but not the water, travelling inland by train to Saint-Omer. A few hundred metres from the town’s elegant chateau-style railway station is Boat’Om, a stylishly restored merchant péniche (barge), which will be our home for the night.

A long way from the boat’s later incarnation as a nightclub, owner Angélique Boulet transformed the péniche into guest accommodation with four bedrooms and a huge open-plan kitchen three years ago. Moored along the Canal de Neufossé, 20 minutes’ walk from the city’s cathedral, Boat’Om is a serene oasis in the heart of the city. We drift towards one of its window seats and watch reflections from the water ripple across its wooden ceiling as ducks, and the odd evening rower, paddle past.

The idea is to offer visitors a chance to disconnect, Angélique tells us. “We are in the city but all around us are peaceful marshes. You don’t realise that if you come by car, but by bike you feel it.”

We take her advice the following morning, collecting rental bikes from Saint-Omer’s tourist office and pedalling just north of the city to explore the Audomarois marshes, a Unesco biosphere reserve. At the visitor centre, La Maison du Marais, we pile into a traditional bacôve boat and glide silently into a maze of quiet channels.

Our guide, Hippolyte Petit, explains that until the seventh century much of this area lay under water. Later, monks and farmers dug canals, creating a lattice of waterways to support the market gardens that still survive today. For centuries, the gardens’ prized cauliflowers and endive were transported to market by boat and, even now, France’s last postal boat service operates here, delivering mail to isolated waterside homes.

Later we meet Rémy Colin, of Les Faiseurs de Bateaux, the last traditional boat-builders in the marshes. His workshop creates bacôves – flat-bottomed boats used for transporting produce – using oak from nearby forests, but the boat-building business is difficult, he says. A sideline running boat trips, tours and dining experiences helps sustain the workshop. In medieval times, these boats would have been common throughout northern Europe. Now they only exist in the Audomarois. “We’re not just the last boat-builders but also the last boat-maintainers,” he tells us. “If we stop, they will disappear.”

That poignancy is brought into focus on our final night, which we spend deeper in the marshes at La Fermette de Marie Grouette, a waterside guesthouse only accessible by boat. Owner Muriel Richart collects us from a prearranged spot and steers us to her pretty whitewashed cottage, where a supper packed with local cheeses, smoked fish, salads and warm bread is served in a hamper so that you can eat wherever you like, including out on the water.

Before the light disappears, I take one of Muriel’s kayaks and paddle out into water that looks like molten gold. Droplets of liquid amber fall from my paddle as I go and, around me, the marsh feels almost jungle-like, as moorhens squeak, great crested grebes bark, chiffchaffs chirp and wood pigeons throatily coo.

The following morning, we reluctantly begin our journey home. This time, we cross from Calais to Dover on a P&O ferry – the last remaining foot passenger service on the route. Standing on deck as we leave the shore we gaze at clouds bubbling ominously above the hazy horizon. The water that carried us here will soon rise and drift inland, before falling and returning to the sea. For days we’ve been immersed in its cycle. Or, as Chris would perhaps say, we’ve been learning to go with the flow.

The trip was provided by Visit Pas-de-Calais. One-way foot passenger fares on SailLink cost £85 per adult and £30 per child (last crossing 20 September) and on P&O from £30 in the summer months. Boat’Om rental starts from £250 per night for two, self-catering. Doubles at La Fermette de Marie Grouette start from €94 (£81), B&B

A NEW multi-million attraction with a karting experiences is planned for the UK.

A new £10.2million attraction for Kilvey Hill in Swansea, Wales, is currently being discussed by Swansea Council.

Called the Swansea Skyline project, the attraction would have a gondola-style lift stretching over one-mile long from the Hafod-Morfa Copperworks to the top of the hill.

There would also be a downhill karting experience from the top of the hill via three winding tracks.

A promotional video for the new attraction also showed that the tracks could be used at night too, lit with neon lights.

There would then also be a sky swing and a number of walking and cycling trails.

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For when you get hungry, there would also be a restaurant onsite with a separate bar overlooking the bay.

And for kids needing to let off some steam, a children’s playground is planned for outside as well.

In an update this week, work has started on the base station for the gondola as well as on Kilvey Hill, where the groundworks for the ‘luge’ tracks has started.

The company behind the project is based in New Zealand and Swansea Skyline would be their first site in the UK, as well as Europe.

According to the projects website, the company said: “We are here because we believe Kilvey Hill is an extraordinary place, and we’re committed to benefiting the Swansea community for the long term.”

Kilvey Hill sits just outside the city of Swansea and is known for being a 193 metre hill with panoramic views of the city centre, Swansea Bay and the coastline.

Currently, the spot is popular for woodland walks and mountain biking.

The attraction hopes to open in 2028.

The summer holidays are almost upon us. And whether you’re planning to stay at home or travel further afield, family adventure expert Conor Carter shares his advice for stress-free fun

Adventure doesn’t have to mean climbing the highest mountain, buying all the gear or travelling for hours before the day has even begun. Often, the best summer adventures are the ones that feel simple enough to actually do. Conor Carter, known as ConorHikes on Instagram and a member of the Dacia Adventure Community, has amassed over 200k followers offering advice on the best places to go, and how to make the outdoors feel accessible. Whether it’s a local trail, a coastal walk or a weekend somewhere new, a bit of preparation can turn an ordinary day into a proper adventure. Here are his tips for getting started this summer.

Start with what’s nearby

You don’t need to go far to find a good route. Look for circular walks, country parks, canals, hills, forests or coastal paths within easy reach. Starting close to home keeps the pressure off, especially if you’re new to hiking or getting out there.

Pick the right route

Be realistic about distance, terrain and who’s coming with you. A shorter route with a great view, café stop or somewhere to paddle can be more enjoyable than pushing through a walk that’s too long.

Check the basics

Look at the weather, parking, facilities and how clearly marked the route is. Download a map or screenshot key details before setting off, especially where phone signal may disappear.

Pack properly

British summer can be unpredictable, so take water, snacks, sun cream, a waterproof layer, comfortable footwear and a fully-charged phone. A small first aid kit is worth carrying, too. Being prepared means you can relax and enjoy the day.

Leave room for spontaneity

Some of the best moments happen when you’re not rushing: an unexpected viewpoint, a quiet beach, a village pub, or a path that looks too good not to follow. Build in extra time so the day can unfold naturally.

Make space for the right kit

Walking boots, rucksacks, layers, food, camping gear or beach kit can quickly fill a car. A practical, spacious car such as the Dacia Bigster helps make it easier to bring what you need without overthinking the day.

Respect the outdoors

Take litter home, stick to marked paths where needed, close gates and give wildlife space. And while photos are brilliant for remembering a day out, try not to experience the whole thing through a screen. Take the picture, then put the phone away and enjoy where you are.

THIS may sound strange, but as we finished our first circuit around Yorkshire Wildlife Park, I was pleased we hadn’t seen all the animals who call this place home.

We hadn’t spotted them all because the amazing beasts — including giraffes, rhinos, zebras, lions, tigers, polar bears and wallabies — live in huge, free-roaming enclosures.

They have areas to play, relax, eat and sleep instead of being squashed in small cages just so humans can instantly peer at them.

The humans on my trip included my son Alex and his friends Jack and Finn, together with their mum Laura. They travelled from London and we went from Manchester, meeting at the park in Auckley, Doncaster.

Even though our visit to the 175- acre adventure park was in February we were lucky with the weather and by the end of our day we were lucky with the animals we saw, too.

It takes about 90 minutes to walk the 3km circular route, and once you’ve done it the first time, you can do it all over again.

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As we passed by the 30 life-size dinosaur models and then watched sea lions, the boys used the park’s app to decide which animals they wanted to see.

For Alex, it was the six polar bears. They live in ten acres, with grassy plains, rocky beaches, water pools and shaded caves, but thankfully seemed to love being near visitors.

One gigantic bear dipped in the pool and had a kickabout with a football right in front of us.

Finn chose the red pandas. Visitors can book 30-minute experiences with several of the animals, including the red panda, and feed them.

But Finn was thrilled just to see the “real-life Kung Fu Panda”.
Jack’s wish was to see the tigers.

As we headed there, we first saw monkeys swinging through trees and playing, which the boys loved. Then we stopped at Leopard Heights, which has a large elevated viewing platform plus ground-level glass wall to see the big cats play on their huge wooden climbing frames.

But as big cats go, they weren’t as majestic as the lions who sprawled out on rocks, seemingly oblivious to everyone gazing at their splendour.

Throughout the park, signs explain each animal’s back story. There is a big focus on environmental projects and it was lovely to read how the lions had been rescued from dangerous situations, including from Ukraine.

The Amur tigers were a highlight. One wandered right past us making moaning noises, which apparently indicated contentment. But as one man behind me rightly commented: “You wouldn’t want to hear that on a dark night, would you?”

There are several picnic spots here, too. One is sensibly inside and next time I visit I’ll shove a sandwich or two in a backpack.

But we weren’t that organised so had lunch at the Safari Cafe. Two very decent coffees for the adults, plus sandwiches and quiche with salad, and three portions of nuggets, chips, beans and apple juices for the kids came to £45 which, for a tourist spot, didn’t seem like bad value.

There are also many play areas and the boys loved the Jungle lookout, climbing through wooden tree forts, over obstacle courses and down slides as us adults had a catch-up.

Finally we returned to the Yorkshire Hive — a hub at the centre of the park with a beauty salon, shops, cafes and fitness centre plus hotel the Hex, where we were staying.

After dumping our bags, we went to Evolution Experience Restaurant where there were more roaring dinosaurs, illuminated dragons, smoke effects, crayons and colouring sheets for the boys.

They each had home-made pizza, apple juice and organic fruit lollies for £10 while we had ribs for £12 with a decent sauvignon blanc and prosecco.

The hotel ticked a lot of boxes — bunk beds and giant bean bags for the boys to sit on and watch Netflix plus black-out blinds, Temple Spa bathroom products, fresh coffee sachets and the cutest packets of mini Jammie Dodgers I’ve ever seen.

But without doubt the best bit of that room was two oblong windows in the walls — one at kids’ level and one at adult height — giving a bird’s eye view over the park.

We watched the wolves prowling and then eating their breakfast. It was the highlight of our trip.

After we had our own breakfast — a full English buffet at the Wilds Cafe Bistro — the boys had a final run around at the large soft play centre, while we relaxed and chatted.

That’s what is so perfect about this place — they catered for the needs of the animals, the kids and us. And for me, that was the real winner.

THE longest outdoor tubing slide in the UK is due to open at an adventure park this summer.

Families will be able to enjoy the new attraction just as the school holidays kick off.

Spanning 315ft, Fossil Falls in Norfolk is even bigger than the 288ft-long Forest Tubing experience, which opened at Heaton Park’s Zip World in May.

Fossil Falls will be officially opened by Matty Campbell, better known as TV Gladiator Bionic.

Matty will cut the ribbon to the ride at ROARR! Dinosaur Park in Lenwade on July 18.

The launch of the mega ride will kick off the summer holidays with an action-packed day for families, who will also have the chance to meet the star.

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Ben Francis, park director at ROARR!, said: “We’re absolutely thrilled to have Matty here to open Fossil Falls.

“Having a real-life Gladiator launch our longest ever ride feels like the perfect fit – both are all about excitement, energy, and family fun.

“At 107 metres, Fossil Falls is the longest outdoor tubing slide in the UK and we can’t wait for families to experience it.”

The ride is part of a £250,000 investment in the park, which already features attractions such as Dippy’s Splash Zone.

Other attractions include Predator High Ropes, and Dinomite, billed as Norfolk’s largest indoor play area.

All attractions are included in the price of entry.

Whether you’re looking for the best restaurants L.A. has to offer, a fun and affordable way to spend your day or a new adventure in one of our city’s iconic neighborhoods, the Los Angeles Times has you covered.

You can now make our guides your own by saving individual recommendations for later — mixing and matching from food to fun and everything in between — with the confidence that your choices are backed by L.A. Times experts.

Saving is simple. Visit any of our local guides, find something that interests you and look for the “Save” button. From there, you can choose a category in which to save your item, such as Food & Drink or Things to Do.

Not an L.A. Times subscriber? Don’t worry. You can register for a free account to get saving on many of our guides. Once you’ve saved a few items, check out your personalized save dashboard at latimes.com/saved/guides. You can also find it in the site account dropdown menu.

Call it a wish list, bucket list or checklist — the dashboard is all yours. Revisit your saves, remove ones you don’t want and even see your items on a personal map.

We hope this makes it easier to explore L.A. and beyond.

A FAMILY attraction said to be “one of the best attractions in Scotland” is getting a major upgrade.

Landmark Forest Adventure Park in Carrbridge, Scotland is to open a new toboggan-style ride in time for summer.

The ride will be in the Forest Adventure Zone at the amusement park and feature six lanes ideal for family races.

The first of its kind experience will weave through the ancient pinewood forest, with both open-air and undercover sections.

And it won’t be the only new arrival at the ‘all inclusive’ amusement park, where all attractions both indoors and outdoors are included in the ticket price.

Kids eager to let off steam will be able to jump on new bouncing pillows and tackle an obstacle course.

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There will also be a new hexagonal swing, climbing frame and an accessibility roundabout.

For little kids, there will be musical instruments and a sand pit too.

Landmark Forest Adventure Park opened back in 1970 and has over 22 indoor and outdoor attractions including Wild Water Coasters, a Butterfly House and Dinosaur Kingdom.

There have been several new additions over the past five years as well, including an aerial net adventure and treetop trail.

One recent visitor said: “An absolute must for anyone visiting anywhere around Carrbridge.

“There is something for all ages to enjoy and everything is the very best quality.

“Landmark is easily one of the best attractions in Scotland and it never ever disappoints.

“Rain or shine, this is the place to be for wholesome family fun.”

Tickets cost from £34 per adult and £32 per child over three-years-old.

AN enormous indoor adventure park, fitted with inflatable obstacle courses and thrilling activities, has shut down with immediate effect.

The family-friendly attraction has been a hit with the community for over six years, welcoming 400,000 visitors during that time.

Ultimate Warriors, formerly Ninja Warrior UK, in Gloucester, shut down earlier this month.

This comes after the adventure park was plunged into administration, only a year after leaving the national Ninja Warrior group.

Ultimate Warriors hoped to sell the business, exploring every option to remain open.

Following a sale falling through last minute, they had no option but to close, nearly seven years after it opened in October 2019.

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Only recently, Ultimate Warriors had refreshed its equipment and activities, running independently as a family-run business.

Ultimate Warriors Gloucester said on Facebook: “After six and a half wonderful years, it is with great sadness that we announce Ultimate Warriors has entered administration and has closed its doors.

“We explored every possible option to keep our much-loved venue open. Unfortunately, despite strong interest, we are devastated to have a sale fall through at the last minute.

“As a small business, we simply do not have the financial reserves to continue operating in such uncertain economic conditions, even with the incredible support and feedback we have received from our guests over the years.”

Ultimate Warriors was formerly part of the Ninja Warrior UK franchise, which owns 16 adventure parks across the UK, all based on the hit ITV show.

Similar to the Ninja Warrior UK set up, Ultimate Warriors in Gloucester had a variety of activities, including monkey bars, slides and climbing walls.

Now, the Ultimate Warriors team is supporting its staff get new jobs, including reaching out to Airhop Gloucester to possibly accommodate them.

Ultimate Warriors Gloucester said: “To everyone who visited us, celebrated with us, worked with us, or supported us along the way – thank you. Your support, loyalty, and memories will stay with us forever.”

What do we have here? Some of my very favorite actors — Alfred Molina, Alfre Woodard, Clarke Peters and Geena Davis — starring in an eight-episode, B-grade sci-fi comedy-drama, “The Boroughs,” now streaming on Netflix.

Molina plays Sam Cooper, a retired engineer — that will be important — being brought grumbling to the Boroughs, a posh, city-sized retirement community plopped down in the middle of the Southwestern desert. Sam’s late wife, Lily (Jane Kaczmarek, in flashbacks and dreams), had planned the move, but she died suddenly, while they were dancing to Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road,” which will become a kind of trigger and motif going forth. Still, fate — in the form of daughter Claire (Jena Malone) and son-in-law Neil (Rafael Casal) — has pushed him solo to the Boroughs and a house on a cul-de-sac. (Seen from above, the town is laid out in a series of concentric circles, as EPCOT was meant to be when Walt Disney was alive and it stood for Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. That has no relation to this show; I’m just throwing it out to the fans.)

Before this happens, however, we get a preamble. Is that Dee Wallace, the mother from “E.T.: The Extraterrestrial,” as Grace, a former occupant of Sam’s new home? (Why, yes it is.) Grabbed one night by something clearly not human, she’ll leave the show before the first credit rolls; but we’ll know from the start that there’s a monster on the loose. And even before Sam has settled in, he’ll be attacked by her now-widowed husband, Edward (Ed Begley Jr.), who has escaped to his old house from the Manor — a memory care unit more reminiscent of something out of “Squid Game” than anywhere you’d want to park a beloved fading parent — muttering “The key is in the light, the owl is in the wall,” and thereby turning Sam detective.

The joint is run by young Blaine Shaw (Seth Numrich), who supposedly took it over from his father, who took it over from his father before him, with Hollywood-blond wife Anneliese (Alice Kremelberg) by his side. (It is perhaps no accident that we’re also served a background clip from “Double Indemnity,” featuring a blond Barbara Stanwyck.) They radiate a kind of vampiric smoothness, and it will take you no longer to realize that something’s up with these two than it takes to say “Something’s up with these two.”

Mired in grief, Sam is initially reluctant to interact with his new neighbors, until former weatherman Jack (Bill Pullman) breaks down his defenses. Judy Daniels (Woodard) used to be a reporter, her husband Art (Peters) is a pot-smoking old hippie who pretends to go golfing but heads off to a ghost town where he grows mushrooms, “searching for proof that there’s more to life than just knockin’ about and hangin’ out.” Wally Baker (Denis O’Hare) used to be a doctor, but now needs one. (It’s cancer, and terminal, though it doesn’t show.) They have complicated relationships, but there’s nothing better for ironing things out than creeping together through dark tunnels by flashlight, hoping that nothing jumps out at you, engaging in weightless banter as you go.

Davis plays Renee Joyce, a former music manager who came to the Boroughs to stay with her mother after Renee’s husband stole her money, and stuck around; I think she’s meant to be younger than the rest, but if you want to look up Davis’ age, I will wait here while you gasp in astonishment. She’ll hook up with friendly young security guard Paz Navarro (Carlos Miranda); he played drums in a band once, and they were both at Glastonbury in 2010 and love Barbra Streisand. (What are the odds?) He’ll have a lot to do when a Scooby Gang — that old, invaluable, incredibly satisfying trope — finally comes together.

The series was created by Jeffrey Addiss and Will Matthews, who were co-writers on the 2018 Henson Co. puppet epic “The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance,” from which they have imported a central plot device regarding vital essences and a magical matriarchal figure. (Called “Mother” there and here.) Their 2020 dying girlfriend film “Life in a Year,” directed by Mitja Okorn, has some thematic mirroring here, as well — death hovers over the story — and it seems probable that somewhere in the series’ gestation, they discussed Ron Howard’s 1985 science-fiction flick “Cocoon,” with its retirement home setting and senior-citizen heroes.

Sewn together from these and other scraps of previous paranormal adventure stories, “The Boroughs” is almost entirely predictable — not a criticism, in this context, since surprises in such a story are liable to bring bad news, and our affection for its heroes ought not to be sacrificed in the name of dramatic effect. That is not the kind of sacrifice the age needs, and this is not that kind of series. Nor is B-grade a pejorative, but rather an honorable tradition, especially when it comes to sci-fi and horror. (We’ll get a glimpse of Roger Corman’s original “Little Shop of Horrors” playing on a TV — cathode ray, of course.) Once you get on its wavering wavelength — sentimental, sincere, sweet, a little silly, not overly concerned with making perfect sense — and realize the show is not out to hurt you, it’s a very enjoyable watch.