scenery

Few pubs boast a more idyllic setting. As I emerge from the woods after a 15-mile hike, The Bridges, on the banks of the Onny River, in the rolling south Shropshire hills, glistens in the late afternoon sun. Inside it’s all wooden beams, with light streaming through stained glass and huge bunches of homegrown flowers adding splashes of colour. There’s time for a pint before general manager Sam Thompson shows me to my room in the recently converted stables.

I’m here exploring part of the 185-mile (297km) Shropshire Way, on a two-day Heart of the Hills hike – one of the county tourist board’s new Rail-Ready Short Breaks. Designed for people who don’t have time to tackle the whole route, the itineraries focus on loops that are easy to access by train, with illustrated PDF downloads, GPX files, accommodation suggestions and highlights of what to do along the way. My route will take me from Shrewsbury to Bishop’s Castle via Ratlinghope – about 27 miles, perfect for a weekend.

Shrewsbury itself is worth lingering in – the historic market town is crammed with independent shops and restaurants (I loved Csons for its creative small plates) and impressive Tudor architecture. But I’m most intrigued to learn that beavers have been reintroduced here by the council and the Shropshire Wildlife Trust. The first kit in the county in 400 years was born late last year and the Trust’s Tom Freeland shows me around the site, the Old River Bed nature reserve, just two miles north of the town centre. A boardwalk crossing wetlands allows an up-close view of the rewilding project. Although we don’t spy the elusive creatures (we see heron and plenty of moorhen), there’s still lots to learn. “It’s been a great success in inspiring the community to find out more about our local wildlife,” says Tom. Nature talks and guided tours of the beaver enclosure are in the pipeline, too.

Back at my base, the 16th-century Lion + Pheasant townhouse hotel, I dine on pan-roasted trout in the beamed restaurant (there’s a popular wine and tapas bar on site too) and the next morning set off to walk the first leg to Ratlinghope. Crossing the River Severn, the city soon peters out and quiet country lanes lead to Lyth Hill Country Park where expansive views open up across Shropshire.

It’s a steady climb to Wilderley Hill, past fields of rape, bright patches of yellow in a sea of green, and I stop under an oak tree to picnic. There’s no one around, just the songs of wren and chaffinch filling the air. The landscape changes on the approach to Ratlinghope as the route traces a brook, crosses wooden bridges and winds through pretty woodland. Just off the path lies the 12th-century St Margaret’s Church, the burial place of 19th-century farmer Richard Munslow, the last known “sin-eater”, whose job it was to eat bread and drink ale over corpses to absorb their sins.

I enjoy a drink instead in the pretty beer garden at The Bridges. The seven immaculate, minimalist rooms are round an adjacent courtyard – and guests have access to a lounge above the pub, too. The food in the bar includes Guinness rarebit and duck terrine, while the light-filled restaurant focuses on organic fare from the owners’ regenerative farm on the Linley Estate and the Welsh Marches. I feast on huge radishes with anchoïade, and hake with fennel, capers and crispy polenta. Breakfast the next morning – homemade granola and poached rhubarb – is equally delicious. It’s such a lively, friendly place I’m tempted to move nearby for the pub alone. They’ll even drive locals home if they’ve had one too many, Sam tells me.

Blue skies and gentle sunshine greet me for day two of the hike, a 12-mile yomp across rugged moorland and pastures to Bishop’s Castle. The pub lies on the edge of the Long Mynd, a heath and moorland plateau, but I’m heading north to the Stiperstones, a national nature reserve with a wild, dramatic ridge of quartzite rock formations that pierce the ground. I climb higher, passing Devil’s Chair tor, watching skylarks and buzzards soar overhead.

It’s a beautiful walk. After several hours, a magnificent avenue of Linley Beeches line the descent into Bishop’s Castle, a pretty town of half-timbered houses. Bank House B&B, a Georgian renovation with an oak-panelled drawing room and five antique-filled rooms, is my home for the night. I pop into the Poetry Pharmacy where prescriptions are poems chosen to spark specific emotions, to be “taken” when required (I leave with a bottle of Joy). Although little remains of the medieval castle that once stood here and gives the town its name, the grand Castle Hotel, with its pretty gardens and welcoming restaurant, is worth a visit.

With more time, I could, of course, carry on and add another loop of the trail. But the train back home beckons – Craven Arms station is a short bus or taxi ride away – and I leave feeling pleased to have dipped my toe into a small segment of the Shropshire Way. As far as rambling weekends go, it’s ticked all the right boxes, and whetted my appetite to discover more.

The trip was provided by Visit Shropshire and train travel from London to Shropshire was by Visit England. The Bridges has rooms from £120 a night. The Lion + Pheasant has rooms from £140 a night. Bank House B&B has rooms from £110 a night. Luggage transfer was provided by Silver Sherpa and costs from £30 a day for 1-3 bags

‘This carriage is due for modernisation. Don’t miss the opportunity to experience 90s Germany style,” reads the sign on the door to the dining carriage. The couple inside aren’t missing theirs: they’re taking endless selfies in the clinical pink-and-turquoise carriage that looks like a hospital canteen and smells like cinnamon buns and strong filter coffee.

I’m on Snälltåget’s iconic red-shelled train, on the Swedish rail company’s new route from Malmö to Oslo – a 6.5-hour journey along Sweden’s picturesque western corridor. Until now, the journey between the two cities involved long bus rides and fragmented train transfers. This direct line is easier and cheaper, with tickets starting at £11 each way. It’s already a hit, shuttling more than 25,000 passengers since launching this summer.

I was first seduced by Scandi rail travel a decade ago on a journey from Stockholm to Gothenburg, when I was berthed in a cosy dark-wood cabin and listened to a pianist play in a dining car. This time, starting in Malmö, I will take advantage of the new route to make a series of stops along the country’s western shore.

In my view Malmö, across the Øresund Bridge from Copenhagen, is too often overlooked in favour of Stockholm. The southern port city is less polished than the capital and grittier, but its residents seem more outgoing and curious. Within an hour of arriving, I’m invited to drinks by a group of local people – a level of openness I never experienced living in Stockholm. Almost half of the population is under 35, and 187 nationalities are represented, making it a hotbed of creativity. In the centre of town, the Form/Design Center occupies a former 16th-century grain store, now a meeting point and exhibition space for design, crafts and architecture enthusiasts. Then, there are Moderna Museet and Malmö Konsthall modern art galleries.

At Möllevången, or Möllan, a trendy neighbourhood popular with creatives, everybody looks as if they’re at art college, or have just returned from a weekend in Berlin. My friend Rob, who has lived in Malmö for nearly a decade, guides me through Folkets Park, the “people’s park”, pointing out his favourite pizza spot, Far i Hatten, which occupies cute wooden huts. We find a table at Ava nearby for a beer on a leafy square dotted with hip restaurants and organic wine bars – it feels like Malmö’s equivalent to London Fields in Hackney. Resisting the urge to continue our purposefully staid bar crawl, we down a nightcap at Bar Bobo and call it a night.

Snälltåget operates just one direct Oslo-bound train a day, at 6.38am from Malmö Central (plans are in the works to increase this next year), so it’s an early start at a station teeming with families and backpackers with rucksacks the size of fridge-freezers. We soon pass the romanesque towers of Lund Cathedral before chugging through pancake-flat yellowing agricultural fields, then skirt Apelviken bay – Varberg’s long, sandy horseshoe beach popular for kitesurfing and surfing.

Varberg is Sweden’s equivalent of a coastal British market town. It’s got bunting, cobbled streets, intimate cafes and a weekend market with vendors peddling fresh vegetables, fruit, marmalade, leather belts and socks. It’s also a spa town, which inspired my visit. I was intrigued by its pretty, Moorish-inspired Kallbadhuset (cold bath house), set on wooden piles above the Kattegat sea, where for about £8 visitors gain access to segregated men’s and women’s saunas, both with spellbinding sea views. A plunge in the brisk water after the sauna proves the perfect antidote to a 6am start after a bottle of red wine the night before. Floating on my back, I look up to see a group of Swedish veterans sitting on a wooden bench, baring all (it’s a nude bathhouse), the building’s mustard shades completing an almost Hockney-esque scene.

According to a sign outside Skarpe Nord – a community-run women’s bathing spot nearby – people have been nude-bathing in Varberg for more than 100 years. Walking along the promenade by a cavernous passage of blasted rocks that resembles a secret pathway from Lord of the Rings, I pass a collection of other designated naked bathing spots. But with the grey weather showing no sign of clearing, my hotel’s spa proves more inviting.

In the bowels of Hotell Gästis hides a replica of Vladimir Lenin’s favourite bathhouse. The hotel’s owner, Lasse Diding, built the spa as a homage to his idol, inspired by a visit to the original bathhouse in St Petersburg in the 1980s. This slightly eerie space is clad in more than 75,000 cobalt tiles and decorated with candlelit busts of communist leaders.

Diding’s interest in the communist movement began during the Vietnam war and never left him. The eccentric entrepreneur is responsible for Varberg’s many visible politically left-leaning monuments – a giant Palestine flag, Hotell Havanna (an ode to revolutionary Cuba) and a statue of Danuta Danielsson, who became a symbol of solidarity after hitting a marching neo-Nazi with her handbag in Växjö in 1985.

The following morning, I hop on the fast train to Gothenburg, a 39-minute ride away. After checking in at the sophisticated, French boudoir-style Hotel Pigalle, just five minutes’ walk from Central station, I wander along Kungsgatan, the city’s modern shopping artery, towards Magasingatan. The area is packed with vintage shops (Ragtime, Pop and Humana) and craft stores such as Customwood, which makes bespoke wooden furniture to order.

I grab a fika (the Swedish tradition of taking a break to drink coffee and indulge in a sweet treat) at Da Matteo, a barn turned cafe spread across three floors. The Scandi-industrial interiors are straight out of a design magazine, as bespectacled folk work away on their laptops. Scents of bread and coffee drift from the in-house bakery and coffee roastery; my bullar (a classic cardamom bun) and a latte cost just under a tenner.

Wandering around Slottsskogen park later, I remember why I wanted to move to Gothenburg after a fleeting first visit all those years ago. Sweden’s second-largest city is compact and easy-going. It has a rough-around-the-edges feel like Malmö in places, with the liveability, nature and culture of Stockholm. At its heart is the pretty old town of Haga, which has narrow cobbled streets, inviting wafts of baked goods and the sound of creaky, wooden trams chugging by. And Slottsskogen is my favourite park in Europe. Roughly the size of Hyde Park, it’s home to deer, penguins and Gotland ponies, and exactly the kind of place you can spend long hours strolling without purpose.

The Gothenburg to Oslo leg of the journey is the cinematic climax. It starts with rolling green pastures, cows grazing on a riverbank and forests thick with towering conifers beneath a blue summer sky. Then nature really starts showing off: lakes widen, trees grow greener and granite canyons appear grander with every kilometre, drawing excited kids to press their noses against the windows.

Keen to see it up close, after pulling into Oslo I dump my bags at Citybox, a minimalist hotel a few minutes’ walk from the station, and head north to Sognsvann. This lake and recreational area on the outskirts of the city is the starting point for a circular walk up to Vettakollen, a popular viewpoint. After an easy, 30-minute uphill hike, I reach a rocky mound skirted by pine trees, where families are picnicking. Oslo unfurls in the distance, the urban sprawl of metal and glass stretching to the fjord. For me, this is what makes Scandinavia special: the urban and the natural worlds seamlessly colliding.

The trip was provided by Visit Sweden. One-way tickets from Malmö to Oslo with Snälltåget cost from 149 Swedish kronor (£11). Double rooms at Hotell Gästis from £90. Doubles at Hotel Pigalle from £85. Single rooms at Citybox Oslo from £68