hiked

I headed down to East Sussex to undertake the hike crowned as Britain’s most beautiful and ‘eye-catching’ trail — then everything went wrong.

A hiker I am not. But when my husband told me the only thing he wants for his birthday this year is to be outdoors and go for a hike – a hiker I became. Begrudgingly.

The location for my (destined to be comical) exploits? The Seven Sisters Cliff Walk in East Sussex. ‘Walk’ being an under exaggeration.

Fair disclaimer before you read on – this story is basically a 900-word ode to my unsurpassable levels of fitness. *Cue Rocky theme song*

Whether I would be a picture of grace or not, at least the destination we picked was sure to be stunning, having recently been named one of the most beautiful and ‘eye-catching’ hiking trails in the world.

The new study by online running shoe retailer SportsShoes.com assigned each hiking trail an ‘eye-catching’ score using eye-tracking technology, ultimately giving us the world’s top 10 most beautiful hikes. The Seven Sisters Cliff Walk ranked ninth on the list.

We set off for the hike on what somehow turned itself into a glorious day amidst an endlessly rainy week and fervently thanked our stars for big little mercies. Then we missed our train and the order of the universe was restored.

We eventually made it to our seaside destination of Seaford – an hour and a half after the initial expected arrival – and set off on our hike. The wind was knocked out of my lungs the second my eyes gazed upon Britain’s most famous chalk cliffs. They were eye-catching alright.

Having done my due diligence much in advance, I had already been informed by countless reviews online that the ‘cliff walk’ was easy to moderate difficulty. Each and every one of the reviews was a lie. The difficulty level was hard, high, expert, nightmare.

The very first hill ascent left me winded, and when I reached the top of the ‘first’ sister of the Seven, I looked at my husband and called an emergency meeting. I loved him and happy birthday, but we would be taking shortcuts.

One look at my red, panting face and he quickly agreed, lest our outdoorsy hike turn into an emergency room visit. Good call on his part.

While I’m on this self-flagellating shame-spiral, it’s probably a good time to mention that I danced at an almost professional level for over a decade of my life. That girl was nowhere to be seen on this hike.

After taking a few embarrassing pauses while fit-as-hell pensioners passed me by, we finally descended the first hill, made our way to Cuckmere Haven, and braced ourselves for our next adventure (read: obstacle), The River Crossing.

With an unspoken agreement passing between us not to take the detour, my husband and I made our way to the flowing stretch we had to cross, and silently began taking off our shoes and socks. Nothing would stop me from undertaking this adventure (except for a very strong current, or really high water, or too much of a crowd – you get the gist).

Jokes aside, it was the part of the hike I was most excited about, so I was crossing this river come hell or high water. Pun intended and all that.

Holding onto each other for dear life, we made our way across the (extremely sharp and pointy) rocky river crossing and finally collapsed on the other side. It may well have been the most memorable, and fun, part of the hike. Would I do it again? Probably. Would I moan and whine doubly throughout? Definitely.

At that point it was time for a well-deserved pint, so off we headed towards the Cuckmere Inn for a scrumptious birthday lunch. After devouring my first ever Sunday Roast and finishing it off with a banoffee cheesecake, the greatest hiker in the world, aka me, got ready for the second leg of our ‘cliff walk’.

A short bus ride to Birling Gap later, we were back at the foot of a daunting cliff, and I, once again, questioned my commitment to our vows as I begrudgingly made my way up another hill that was not ‘easy’ or ‘moderate’ to climb.

Like the Big Bad Wolf in Three Little Pigs, I huffed and puffed my way up towards the Belle Tout Lighthouse, which, spoiler alert, was not pretty enough to be the reward for this monster mountain I had just climbed.

Another descent and one more seemingly endless and exhausting descent later, we got our first glimpse of the Beachy Head Lighthouse and clifftop and all was forgiven.

After spending an adequate amount of time ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the stunning, drop-dead gorgeous beauty we were surrounded by, we made our way towards The Beachy Head pub for our final pint (Pimms for me) of the day.

As the sun finally began to set on the day, we started walking towards the bus stop that would take us to Eastbourne Station so we could catch our train back to London.

It was on this walk that I began to realise something was horribly, terribly wrong. My entire right foot began feeling taut and stiff, and the shooting pain behind my kneecap rendered me limp.

What started as a slight wobble in East Sussex turned into a full blown limp by the time we reached London. Holding on for dear life, I made my way back to my apartment, each step more painful than the last, as I cursed my pro-athlete levels of fitness.

EACH step I take is marked by a comforting crunch as my spiked hiking boots grip the snow.

Directly ahead of me is Mont Blanc’s breathtaking peak, straddling France, Italy and Switzerland.

And beneath my feet is the Ghiacciaio del Monte Bianco glacier.

I’m reminded to stop my gawping and keep walking, by a firm tug from the rope tying me to my guide and to the three other people in the expedition.

I approach the edge of the glacier and spot a huge crack in the snow where it’s threatening to suddenly fall away.

Then, as I peer thousands of feet down into the valley to try and spot my hotel, Gran Baita, I hear a huge rumble.

WAIL OF A TIME

I drove Irish Route 66 with deserted golden beaches and pirate-like islands

TEMPTED?

Tiny ‘Bali of Europe’ town with stunning beaches, €3 cocktails and £20 flights

Looking nervously to my right, I see a small avalanche careering down the side of Mont Blanc.

It’s a not-so-subtle reminder that the ropes around our waists are the only things that might offer protection if the glacier beneath our feet suddenly shifts.

But despite the snow on the ground, I’m soon stripping off my layers because the temperatures can reach balmy heights in this gorgeous Italian Alpine region during summer.

To arrive here, I hopped on the Skyway Monte Bianco cable car which whizzed me 3,466 metres up to the glacier from the village of Courmayeur in ten minutes — with a stop at 2,173 metres to switch cabs.

The cable car costs £50 in advance to go to the top — but this does include entrance to a variety of attractions including an Alpine garden, kids’ play area and Europe’s highest library.

As well as a chance to refuel in its restaurants, the middle Skyway station offers another treat — a cave where they mature a vintage wine grown here.

And even if you’re not drinking wine, you’ll be able to drink in the amazing views of Italy’s Aosta Valley.

Skyway Monte Bianco slowly rotates so you don’t miss any of the incredible scenery.

Back in the sun-drenched valleys, there’s not a speck of snow in sight — but we still eat for winter, piling our plates with gourmet raclette and classic Italian pastas.

The region’s restaurant highlights include Cadran Solaire, whose wild-boar ragu is the stuff foodie dreams are made of.

But if your stomach is firmly in summer mode, you can tuck into lighter home-cooked delights at La Terrazza, where the owner has brought southern Italian delicacies to the Alps.

Classics like carbonara are on offer, as well as starters of anchovies with mozzarella.

If you’re worried about all those calories, the slopes of Courmayeur will be your saviour.

The mountains become a walkers’ paradise in summer, with unbelievable trails from the two valleys either side.

One morning, I headed to Val Ferret, which can be accessed by bike, a free bus or car.

It’s flanked by the Mont Blanc Massif, Mont Dolent and Tour Noir.

From here you can see the gigantic Brenva Glacier — the second-longest glacier in Italy.

The valley can be enjoyed on foot, or on horseback for around €30 (£25) an hour.

But for those who prefer something more challenging, the ski area Checrouit offers uphill walks where you climb 300 metres in just an hour.

Thank goodness for the heated pool and sauna back at the Gran Baita.

I’m not sure how my limbs would have recovered without them.

The national park’s a hotspot for tourism, but this particular walk felt like, at points, I could have been hiking in a tropical destination, with its bright green rugged cliffs

The more I travel around the UK, the more I am in awe of its natural beauty which seems to be overlooked by a lot of keen travellers, and this particular spot feels like a real slice of paradise.

You don’t need to hop on a plane to experience a sense of the tropics; it turns out you can immerse yourself in the brightest hues of green and walk along waterfalls in the north of Wales. While, of course, Snowdonia National Park is no secret, especially to avid hikers, cyclists and explorers, it was my first time visiting, and this specific route is one that blew me away.

It’s often cited as one of the best hikes in Snowdonia (Eryri). Cadair Idris is an 893-metre mountain in the southern part of the park and is renowned for its wild and rugged scenery. To me, it looked like its surroundings could belong in the likes of Peru or Southeast Asia, with its tropical plants, waterfalls and vibrancy of its green grass.

But of course, like any beautiful place in Wales, it reminded me exactly where I was when I spotted sheep dotted around its cliffs, even on the steepest parts. It looked as though the sheep could fall off the edge of the world, taking me with them, as I fought for hours against the growing pain in my shins, with each step up and up to the peak.

The route

I was taken up the Minffordd Path route, which is described as the shortest yet steepest route to the mountain’s summit, tackling a demanding 10 km walk. Overall it’s set to take up to four to five hours to complete, and in turn you are rewarded with dramatic and captivating views of the national park’s landscape.

The route begins at Dôl Idris car park and takes you past the Cadair Idris visitor centre, which quickly fills up. We were recommended to get there early in the morning to beat the pile-up and were thankful that we did; setting off on our walk at around 8am meant we got to experience the quietness of the route in all of its natural wonder. Albeit, the lie-in would have also been appreciated.

Running parallel along the stream which runs parallel to the stream which leads to Llyn Cau, the lake at the heart of the base of the mountain. It was immediately, when taking on these steep steps along the river, that I felt like I could be abroad.

Not only was the sun shining down on us, but the water was trickling down, with tropical plants growing around us, and it felt as wild and wonderful as the experiences I had in Thailand or the pictures I’ve seen of hikes in Vietnam or Peru.

This continued as we made our way out of the forest area and into the open air, with nothing but pure greenery around us, and the mountain stood proudly ahead. The second phase levels lightly as you enter a rocky amphitheatre, with up-close and personal views of the lake.

Pushing past slate and rocks, many of which are loose and therefore can be difficult to navigate, this section and throughout the walk, requires concentration and care with each step. A quick trip or fall could have you stumbling, and that’s why lots of hikers opt to go armed with sticks to help gain their balance and push them through.

By the time I made it to the top of the mountain, the weather dramatically changed, from sunny to high winds which were extremely cold. It’s this that can catch a lot of amateur hikers out, and I think it’s always best to go armed with windproof and waterproof layers, as they say ‘don’t dress for the car park’.

The real treat after that consistently steep hike upwards is this – the flat walk along the edge of the entire mountain before reaching its penultimate peak. Seeing it all from a circular angle gave you a real treat at each point whenever I decided to stop and take a breath.

Wales is the gift that keeps on giving when it comes to my explorations, and Cadair Idris was no exception to that. If you’re willing to take on the circular route and the real challenge of its steep and unsteady ground, then you will be rewarded with a touch of paradise and views you’ll continue to daydream about.