walking

The Monsal Trail, Peak District, Derbyshire

Start/finish Coombs Road in Bakewell to Blackwell Mill in Chee Dale, but there are lots of access points along the way
Distance 8.5 miles
Cycle, hike or ride a horse along the Monsal Trail to explore a swathe of Derbyshire’s industrial history. This former stretch of the Midland Railway line winds past the imposing structures of two 18th-century cotton mills, through illuminated railway tunnels and over the Headstone Viaduct, which gives glorious views of the River Wye and Monsal Dale below. Interpretation and listening panels along the route explain the area’s history, geology and wildlife, while a short detour on to Monsal Head offers a panoramic view of the viaduct itself. Pause here for lunch or a pint at the Monsal, or stop in at Hassop Station Cafe, which offers bike rental alongside hefty sandwiches, homemade cakes and wood-fired pizza at weekends.
monsaltrail.org.uk

The Strawberry Line, Somerset

Start/finish Yatton railway station to the old (unused) Cheddar railway station
Distance 10.7 miles
Named for the fruity cargo that trains once carried from the strawberry fields up to London, this flat, accessible route – shared by walkers, cyclists and wheelchair users – knits together former railway stations, cider orchards and small, historic towns. Direct trains run from Bristol to Yatton, where the not-for-profit, community-run Strawberry Line Cafe serves hearty breakfasts and homemade cakes, while next door the Strawberry Line Cycle Project offers bike hire and accessories such as child seats. The route runs through wildlife-rich wetlands, open grazing land and lush valleys, while the medieval square at Axbridge gives an insight into the region’s rich history, dating back to the 10th century, when it was a busy commercial centre. Settle in at the Almshouse Teashop, in a building almost 600 years old, for freshly made soup and sweet treats, before setting off again.
thestrawberryline.org.uk

The Mawddach Trail, Gwynedd, Wales

Start/finish Marian Mawr car park in Dolgellau to Barmouth viaduct
Distance 9.5 miles
Mostly running alongside the Mawddach estuary, this tranquil trail is a great choice for birders, with peregrine falcons and buzzards whirling above, and curlews and oystercatchers in the salt marshes. The wide, even surface also makes it ideal for wheelchairs and mobility scooters, and there are several joining points along the trail, meaning you can walk or bike as little or as far as you like. Just next to the 150-year-old Penmaenpool wooden toll bridge, the George III hotel and pub offers sweeping estuary views and classic pub food (including particularly fine pies), or pick up picnic supplies from Fork, Cork and Feathers in Dolgellau, which has a cold counter crammed with cured meats, cheeses and other local produce. There are seats and picnic tables dotted all the way along the trail.
mawddachtrail.co.uk

The Cuckoo Trail, East Sussex

Start/finish Station Road in Heathfield to Hampden Park in Eastbourne
Distance 14 miles
A great choice for a family adventure, this mostly flat trail has five augmented reality “story stops” along the way – where, with just a quick scan of the QR code, children can interact with animated wildlife characters, solve puzzles and take a selfie with a grumpy badger. There are sculptures too, including carved wooden seats made from oak trees that fell during the great storm of 1987 and steel sculptures that act as mileposts. Cuckoo Shack Cafe, part of Priory Court Farm in Polegate, is set right on the trail and offers homemade-cakes, sandwiches and excellent coffee, but it is only open at weekends and during school holidays. Otherwise, a quick diversion into Hailsham offers a clutch of places to eat, including Neapolitan street food and wood-fired pizza at Rustico.
wealden.gov.uk

The Flitch Way, Essex

Start/finish Braintree station to Start Hill, near Bishop’s Stortford
Distance 15 miles
Discover a tranquil side of Essex by following this rural trail along the edge of the former royal hunting ground of Hatfield Forest – where fallow deer roam between the ancient oak trees – and Great Notley Country Park, where families can take advantage of the 1.2km play trail, with slides, forts and swings. The main refreshment stop is 2 miles along the trail from Braintree at the Rayne Station centre, which combines the Booking Hall Cafe with the free-to-enter Railway Carriage Museum, a visitor centre and toilets. For something more sustaining (and a pint or two), the Lion and Lamb pub is just a short detour off the trail, in the pretty village of Little Canfield. Keep an eye out for kestrels and buzzards, plus brown hares dashing out of the hedgerows.
explore-essex.com

The Wirral Way, Merseyside and Cheshire

Start/finish West Kirby railway station to Hooton railway station
Distance 12.2 miles
One of the first converted railway lines in England, the Wirral Way is now a dramatically beautiful coastal path running along the Wirral Peninsula. It takes in the Wirral Country Park, where Wirral Way Bikes offers cycle hire for adults and kids (including ebikes), and clifftop picnic spots have gorgeous views over the Dee estuary. Take a detour down the cliffs to Thurstaston beach for a spot of fossil hunting or a quick paddle, and pause at Hadlow Road station, which has been preserved in all its 1950s glory (when the passenger service stopped) as an open museum; it also operates as an information point for the trail. Time your walk or ride for sunset, when the mudflats glow rose-pink and gold as the sun drops below the Clwydian Hills, and take the short connecting path down to the Harp Inn, Little Neston, set directly on the estuary, for a sundowner to go with the view.
visitcheshire.com

The Crab and Winkle Way, Kent

Start/finish Canterbury West station to Whitstable Harbour
Distance 7.5 miles
Following the route of one of the earliest railway lines, built in 1830, this hiking and cycling trail passes through the Blean, a large swathe of ancient woodland, home to the 13th-century church of St Cosmus and St Damian, and an RSPB reserve. It’s also home to Europe’s first free-roaming bison, introduced as part of a rewilding initiative in 2022 by the Kent Wildlife Trust and Wildwood Trust. There’s not really anywhere en route to stop and eat, so either pick up treats for a picnic at the Goods Shed in Canterbury (an indoor farmers market, closed mondays) or save yourself for oysters and a glass of fizz at the Whitstable Oyster Company, right on the beach.
explorekent.org

The Dava Way, Moray and Highland, Scotland

Start/finish Mannachie Avenue in Forres to Dulicht Bridge in Grantown-on-Spey
Distance 24 miles
Unusually for a rail trail, the Dava Way includes a stiff climb from the Moray Firth up over Dava Moor to the Dava Summit, at 320 metres (1,050ft), before heading back down to Grantown-on-Spey, following the Highland Railway line that operated for over a century, from 1863 to 1965. The ascent is well worth it for the spectacular views across the Moray Firth to Sutherland in the north, and south to the Cromdale Hills and the Cairngorms, while the ride back down is a breeze. The Divie Viaduct, built in 1863, is the most famous landmark along the way, while the Halfway Hut is a restored shelter that makes a perfect spot for a picnic, with old photographs and route info on the walls (not for overnight stays).
davaway.org.uk

‘The wind is in from Africa / Last night I couldn’t sleep.” Joni Mitchell has ear-wormed her way into my head as my wife and I step out from Zahara de la Sierra into the mountains of Sierra de Grazalema natural park. The Africa bit probably comes from yesterday’s visit to Zahara’s castle museum. Here, high above the tiled terracotta mosaic of village rooftops, we learned how the recapture of this picturesque hill town was a turning point in the Reconquista – the military campaign of the 1400s that saw the Catholics retake southern Spain after seven centuries of Moorish control. As for sleep deprivation, I may just have overdone it on last night’s tapas.

Either way, Africa feels present as we tramp through the countryside of Andalucía, if only in the wildlife. The painted lady butterflies drifting over the flower-spangled verges, the turtle doves purring from the olive groves and the booted eagle drifting overhead: all are summer visitors recently blown in from the great continent to our south.

It’s day two of our White Villages of the Ronda Mountains walking tour, a self-guided seven-day route from On Foot Holidays that explores this alluring corner of southern Spain. We arrived yesterday by bus from Málaga, winding up through the mountains until the whitewashed dwellings of Zahara appeared like teeth in the hillside ahead. This was the first of the week’s four pueblos blancos, all tucked picturesquely into the natural park’s rugged 51,695 hectares (127,740 acres) of limestone peaks and serpentine river valleys.

I’ve walked with On Foot before, so the routine is familiar: water bottles and packed lunches stashed in daypacks, laminated map around neck on lanyard and route app open on phone (belt-and-braces navigation). Best of all, our luggage is already wending its way by taxi to the next destination.

The conditions couldn’t be more perfect. The hillsides burst with blossom and birdsong, the May temperature is a pleasant mid-20s (midsummer out here would be punishing), and the peaks stand proud against the clear blue sky. It’s hard to believe February brought such heavy rains that much of our route was then impassable – and some areas of the park were affected by wildfires later in the summer.

But each month here has its own character. September/October – also prime walking season – sees the chestnuts and cork oak forests turn russet and gold, and the spring irises and orchids replaced by the post-summer bloom of wild asparagus and autumn crocus. Overhead, those booted eagles will be massing for their return journey – along with bee-eaters, honey buzzards and other winged voyagers – back to Africa.

Today’s hike takes us south towards Grazalema: pueblo blanco number two. We skirt a reservoir then wind along a lush river valley, nightingales serenading us from the oleander thickets, and by late morning are rising into the mountains, the vista gaining grandeur as we gain height.

Lunch is in a high meadow, where we unwrap our bocadillos while bees buzz and butterflies busy themselves among the blooms. Afternoon brings a long uphill slog, then finally a cool descent through shady pines to sleepy Grazalema. Another 11 miles (18km) under our belts.

We stay two nights in Grazalema at the Hotel la Mejorana, meeting wild ibex on a mountain circuit high above town, and eating at the cosy Cádiz el Chico restaurant, where a menu featuring partridge and wild boar (though, thankfully, not ibex) reflects the region’s hunting traditions. At night, the cobbled streets are quiet beneath a canopy of stars.

Benaoján, the third of our pueblos blancos, lies about 16 miles to the south-east. We exit Grazalema early in the morning, beneath the Los Peñascos mirador. Roosting griffon vultures line the cliffs like pterodactyls, warming up in the morning sun before, one at a time, flapping off on table-top wings for another day combing the plains.

Our route leads down through the oak woods before rising again into the hills. Here we enter a limestone wonderland, the karst formations sculpted by wind and rain into Henry Moore-like statues. Bee-eaters dart overhead, their liquid chirrups audible long before we lay eyes on them. A passing walker greets us with a cheery “Buen camino!” He’s returning with his father to see the farmhouse where they grew up. We find Dad sitting on a nearby rock, devouring an empanada. They’re the only other walkers we meet all day.

Our hideaway at Benaoján is the Molino del Santo hotel, where we dine beside a chuckling stream on a terrace crowded with potted geraniums. From here, it takes us two hours to hike to the Cueva de la Pileta, an immense cave system discovered in 1905 when a local farmer spotted bats streaming from a fissure in the hillside.

Local guide Ainhoa Bullón leads us down cool, narrow passages into measureless caverns, her thin torch beam illuminating flowstone formations as enormous and elaborate as a Gaudí cathedral – formed, she explains, by the drip-drip of lime at the rate of 1cm every 400 years. The farthest recesses hold exquisite shamanic rock art, some more than 25,000 years old. Ainhoa overflows with information, talking us through the cave’s successive ages of antiquity, from Neanderthal to Neolithic. Most important, she delivers us safely back to the blazing sunshine outside.

Our week ends at Ronda, perched atop the precipitous El Tajo gorge. The celebrated clifftop town seems to beckon us onward like some mythical sky citadel as we tramp our final kilometres towards it. Below the cliffs, we find ourselves back in tourist land, sharing the steep climb to the top with a gaggle of selfie-snapping day trippers.

We make it, slumping at the first available cafe table to lever off boots, fold away the map and order a celebratory cold cerveza. Tomorrow, we catch our bus back to Málaga. For now, a final night lies ahead, with a stirring panorama from our room at the Parador de Ronda and the promise of a slap-up meal down in the old town. Our beers arrive, and any lingering strains of Joni are soon lost to a busker’s volley of flamenco guitar.

The trip was provided by On Foot Holidays. It costs from £985pp for a seven-night self-guided route in Grazalema natural park, ending in Ronda; five-, six- and eight-night routes also available. The walking season is February-May and September-December (April, May, September and October being optimum)

What’s the edgiest region in the UK? I don’t mean in the sense of sketchy or fashionable, but where on the map of these four nations feels most at the margins of everywhere else? For my money, the north Cumbrian coast is a strong contender. Hemmed in by the Lake District fells on one side and the Solway Firth and Irish Sea on the other, this strip of towns and villages, farms and nature reserves, clinging to the low-lying littoral, has been battling nature, weather, geology and geography throughout its history.

Coastal erosion is part of the challenge. Like the railway navvies before them, the planners and builders of the England Coast Path (ECP) have done sterling work at plotting a viable footpath and shoring it up. But there are and always will be sections that are compromised and even impassable. I chose a section that would take three days, walking southwards, and my final destination, St Bees, was only reachable via a diversion. It’s all part of the adventure, and we’re lucky to have the ECP as a national trail, as it means issues and obstacles on the English coast will usually be promptly addressed.

I began my walk at Maryport, a natural choice as it’s where the Cumbrian Coast Line, travelling south from Carlisle, meets the seashore. I resisted the urge to jump off the train and set off walking, instead taking time to look around. I’m glad I did. It’s a lovely place, in a ramshackle way, and quite fascinating. The Romans, who called it Alauna, built a fort here; the Senhouse museum boasts Britain’s largest collection of Roman altars and inscriptions found at a single site.

An LS Lowry trail takes in places he painted. I followed it from the church beside the quay, up the steep town steps, and along some of the streets he worked into his compositions. Information panels celebrated less well-known, similarly gifted local painters: Sheila Fell, from nearby Aspatria, and Percy Kelly, born in Workington, known for his thick lines and dark landscapes, who played for Workington AFC under Bill Shanklyand, in later life, became Roberta Penelope.

Out on the coast path, I took in my first views of Dumfriesshire to the north. There were few walkers on the empty strand. At Flimby, the “path” was just a line of kelp on a pebble beach, bordered by flowering sea kale. Clouds of cabbage white and small blue butterflies sprang up as I walked. West Cumbria is the only area where the latter can be found in northern England. An unfamiliar call and a flutter of white wings sent me to my birder app. It was a pair of sandwich terns – an “amber” status bird on the RSPB website.

There were patches of heather and rosehip, occasional dunes and a few birds. Swallows picked off flies. Herring gulls shouted. Black-headed gulls planed. Carrot-beaked oyster catchers fluted their alarm calls. On my left, above the marram grass, I could see industrial plants and old workers’ terraces. The Cumbria coast is more Morrissey lyric than Countryfile fantasy. Boulders have been arrayed to protect against storms. Two teenage girls bronzed (or pinked) themselves on rocks in the midday sun.

Workington welcomed me, after seven miles. I’d been here before, for a “Where tourists seldom tread” feature for this newspaper, but it felt new arriving on foot and from the shore. Workington looks as its name sounds. Decades of industry have made the people steely and friendly. I spent the night above town at the Hunday Manor hotel, which has superb views over the coast and back to the fells.

The next day’s walk to Whitehaven was the longest at about 12 miles. The opening stretch, back down into Workington, was a pleasant surprise. From above town, I’d noted fuel silos, warehouses and industrial estates, but around the harbour the land was all grassy knolls. I could see Scafell Pike rising up to the south-east, and Scotland shimmering to the north. In the distance were cliffs and a wide inlet – my destination, Whitehaven.

I undertook this walk during the the UK’s fifth heatwave, one of the driest, warmest periods in living memory in these parts. As the mercury rose, I climbed up on to the clifftops, pausing at the Howe, a hill originally created from industrial slag, to gulp down water and look up at a 3-metre steel and wood crucifix put up by a local man in memory of his wife. From here, there was a messy section with scant waymarking, but I eventually came to Harrington, a bonny little suburban village, with kite flyers on the bluff and smart little terraces marching up the side streets. I ate lunch and watched trains come and go; they’re regular enough that you can always cut short a walk and hop on one.

Up on the cliffs again, I passed a large windfarm, and approached the village of Parton on a bridleway that sliced through sheep fields. The air was filled with the hairy seeds of thorns, bursting in the heat.

A path beneath dramatic sandstone cliffs guided me into Whitehaven. One of northern England’s loveliest towns, it has all the amenities a tired walker needs. But while it caters to visitors, it hasn’t sold its entire soul to tourism – which is the case with some Lakeland towns.

Whitehaven used to be an industrial powerhouse, shipping tobacco, coal, ceramics, iron ore, limestone and textiles, and it was the fifth most active British port involved in the transatlantic slave trade. The older streets are lined with crumbling mansions. Victorian-era lighthouses and a chimney known as the Candlestick are unmissable landmarks; between these are ghostly traces of tenements, coastal batteries and long-silenced engine houses. Silting and larger ships led to the town being eclipsed by the deepwater ports of Liverpool and Glasgow. Shipbuilding moved to Belfast. Nostalgia, grit, grandeur and decay all mingle in Whitehaven’s collective maritime memory.

I swotted up on Whitehaven’s layered history at The Beacon, one of the UK’s finest and most rejuvenating town museums. Underneath the museum, the Howling Wolf Bakery and cafe serves delicious cakes, toasties and coffee. There are great restaurants all over town – I can recommend The Peddler, in the former bus station, and Zest on the waterside – and every kind of pub, chippy and cafe.

The Edge hotel, which opened last October, will bolster Whitehaven’s ambitions to compete with the Lake District. It was created as a base for coastal activities; the harbour commission, which owns the property, is committed to supporting walkers, cyclists, musicians and community groups. There are 16 ensuite rooms looking out over the marina – an attractive mix of historic quays and jetties (known as tongues), and modern add-ons. The Edge’s irregular polyhedral shape is striking and yet apt. Rust-coloured, it looks post-industrial but also like a storm barrier. Its air-source underfloor heating and solar panels are in keeping with a region famed for renewable energy.

An alternative route was in place for the final leg, with erosion on the footpath forcing me inland. But I was too elated to be bothered by a minor diversion. My coast walk (23 miles direct, but considerably more with walks around towns and hikes to/from the Workington hotel) culminated at St Bees Head with views of spectacular coves, secret beaches and sheer cliffs.

Where the ECP crossed paths with the recently inaugurated Coast to Coast National Trail, I met a few walkers, Aussies rather than Brits, all heading inland for Ennerdale and Helvellyn, there to encounter crowds and join queues. My only company was fulmars, cormorants, herring gulls, ravens and kestrels. When I came across a little colony of kittiwakes nesting on tiny ledges, I decided it was time to sit down too, and soak up the gentle sea breezes and the wide, all-encompassing silence.

The trip was supported by Cumbria Tourism, Avanti, Northern and Stagecoach buses. Stagecoach has DayRider and 3-day Explorer passes. Doubles at The Edge from £117 B&B and at Hunday Manor Country House hotel from £125 B&B.