The Guardian

These oft-bypassed towns have all been, at some period in history, influential if not necessarily powerful; wealth-creating though hardly opulent; and vital to the nation’s wealth and security while never fully rewarded for it. Communications and trade once gave some urban centres the edge over others. Churches and marketplaces were social magnets. Today a brand-name art gallery, celebrity residents, or media chatter are most likely to generate appeal, however specious. What if estate agents sold houses using poetry, memories, polyglotism, ruins and rust?

The sequence M77, M74, M73, M80, A9, M90, A90 may not sound freighted with emotional weight, but those roads are, for me, associated with the sadness of separation and the pleasure of reunion. It’s the route I drive between our home in Glasgow and Dundee, where our eldest boy now lives, having left for university.

There’s always a moment in the journey from Dublin to London – which I make every month or two, taking the land-and-sea route via Holyhead instead of flying – when I stop what I’m doing – reading or writing or chatting to the person next to me – and think: you don’t get to enjoy this from 40,000ft.

It’s so dark, it makes no difference whether my eyes are closed or open. The only sound is breathing and a faint ripple when I weightlessly shift position in the salt-laden, skin-warm fluid. Inside an egg-shaped pod at Float in the Forest, one of my personal nightmares (being left alone for an hour with my own thoughts and no distractions) turns out to be a strange, peaceful experience, where time is condensed and space expands. Initially sceptical, my husband, Luke, also emerges from his pod and declares the experience “profoundly relaxing as few things are” (£60, book ahead).

We are lounging on the terrace of Lapis Turris, a medieval watchtower high in the Sibillini mountains, taking it in turns to name films that remind us of the extraordinary landscape that wraps itself around us. Game of Thrones? Skull Island in King Kong? Tolkien’s Rivendell? It’s difficult to pick; this stunning, empty wilderness is Italy’s answer to all three.

Instead of a four-hour road trip from Koman to Fierzë, relax and enjoy the Albanian fjords via the Drin River. We reversed on to the Berisha ferry, which takes 10 cars, plus foot passengers. Everyone sits on deck, regardless of the weather, to take in the views, which began with an incredibly straight white line high in the rock, showing the water level during the rainy season. The scenery was magnificent with forest-clad hills and high, rocky mountains with various coloured strata. Occasionally, a remote, isolated house could be seen. After two hours, we began spotting small tourist boats and hardy kayakers before arriving at Fierzë.Roy Messenger

The coastal hamlet of Abereiddy (Abereddi in Welsh) is not as sun-drenched or glamorous as Acapulco, but the two places share one claim to fame: both are renowned cliff diving destinations. The Welsh version is the Blue Lagoon at the northern end of Abereiddy Bay, a 30-metre drop into deep green water (it is not as blue as the name suggests), which has hosted the Red Bull Cliff Diving championships a number of times.

There are more than 500 national parks in Europe covering an astounding variety of terrain, from the wild taiga of northern Finland to the coastal dunes and wetlands of the Doñana national park in southern Spain. These protected landscapes offer pristine scenery and endless opportunities for activity and adventure. We’d love to hear about your favourite national park discoveries on the continent, whether it’s a hiking trail through a remote mountain range, a perfect spot for wild camping or an unforgettable wildlife encounter.

For centuries the Lea has been a vital artery for London, carrying drinking water and grain into the city and servicing the factories and gunpowder mills that grew up along its banks. Rising in Bedfordshire, it flows for 46 miles through Hertfordshire and north-east London, eventually reaching the Thames. It’s often described as London’s second river, but this unsung tributary gets little of the glory or recognition of the Thames.

Two of the great prologues of literature begin on the same seeping bank in the village of Slad. Start the circular Laurie Lee walk from where the infant was dropped from a cart in Cider with Rosie and from where the adolescent loped off to Spain in As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning. A well-managed schedule can see you enjoying the singular hospitality of the Woolpack Inn before and after your five-mile jaunt. Head clockwise or reverse to find primrose-bounded paths, skylark-serenaded pasture and slope-clinging beech trees. The ramble is punctuated by posts inscribed with poetry by the valley’s most celebrated son. Mathew Page

You’re probably already familiar with the concept of the fashion or beauty dupe: a piece of clothing or a product which is similar to the original must-have item you’re swapping it for, in form and function, but which often costs significantly less without compromising on quality. This trend has swept TikTok (of course), and has now extended into the realm of travel. The idea is to exchange a popular destination for one that has similar qualities but is often overlooked, and which fewer people know about.

Before I had children, my work as a research scientist meant frequent travel. I specialised in nature conservation and discovered that I was pregnant with my first child on a visit to an Ethiopian colleague’s field site in the Bale Mountains. The motherhood penalty in academia is high, and when my husband was offered a post in Shetland, I handed in my notice in the hope of finding a new job that would allow a better work-life balance.

It’s dawn when we step off the train at Lelant, a village tucked into a bay near St Ives. The early morning light is still intensifying as the distinctive, repetitive shrill of a song thrush wakes this sleepy corner of west Cornwall.

Pondering where to go for your next trip? Why not take a cue from your favourite TV series or movie? More and more of us are getting inspiration for our travel plans from the locations where our most loved shows and films are set.

It was a handpainted sign on a wooden barn that piqued my interest in Gruyères. I was travelling from Emmental to Montreux last year, following the wonderful Golden Pass rail route. Our train paused at Montbovon, the start of a steep climb up to the line’s final dramatic mountain pass. There was the prospect of stunning views of Lake Geneva ahead. To the right of the railway, I spotted the bold sign: “La Gruyère vous salue” (the region, like the cheese, lacks the village’s final “s”).

There’s a party atmosphere round the lighthouse on Chanonry Point near Inverness, the UK’s best place to see dolphins from land. It’s an hour after low tide and there are pipers, picnics and kids running barefoot over long, evening sands. Already in late spring, the sun barely seems to set in the Highlands. The kelp-strewn pebbles are glowing as I walk from the bus stop near Fortrose cathedral (bus 26/26A from Inverness) along one side of the promontory. The dolphins don’t show up. But, somehow, it’s fine – the first of many reasons to return. It’s still light as I walk back along the beach for a 9pm bus, past wild lupins and views of Fort George and pink clouds over the Moray Firth. I’m in Inverness at the start of a week exploring Scotland’s wild north coast by train and bus.

Start Housesteads Fort Finish Brocolita Roman TempleDistance 4¼ miles (use regular AD122 bus to shorten, if needed)Those who walk the whole 84 miles of Hadrian’s Wall in a week may refer to it as a type of pilgrimage. But in the last few years the ever innovative British Pilgrimage Trust has worked with English Heritage to devise historical pilgrim trails – incorporating ancient sites across Britain – including the 23-mile section between Housesteads and Corbridge. For a pilgrimage with Roman flavour, begin at the Roman fort of Housesteads – a place where it is said “hooded gods” were worshipped, and walk east taking in the milecastles, turrets and the temple remains dedicated to Mithras, the Roman god of light (use the Hadrian’s Wall bus to return to the start).

Freshly fried churros, golden and crisp; a cup of velvety hot chocolate alongside; circles of aubergine striped from the griddle; mushrooms silky with chorizo; a jumble of potatoes smothered in spicy sauce; handmade crisps, crunchy and salty; slivers of jamón serrano; plump Nocera olives; and crumbly, herby morcilla … By the end of our first day in Madrid, my sister Penny and I have eaten all these things. A touch indulgent, maybe, but when you’re staying in a city that runs on its stomach, it seems rude not to go with the flow.

Whether you’re a repeat or first-time visitor to Northern Ireland’s capital, Belfast, the city’s neighbourhoods offer so much – from the centre with its trove of shopping options and ever-evolving food scene to the cultural edge of the burgeoning Gaeltacht Quarter.

‘Leeds has an independent, thriving arts scene,” says Emma Beverley, the director of programmes at last year’s cultural showcase, Leeds 2023. “A lot of that is grounded in an artist-led movement that is pretty pioneering.”

On our first morning in Atalbéitar, I walk into the kitchen to make coffee and wonder if I’m feeling the effects of the previous night’s festivities. Then I remember it’s not me; it’s the kitchen floor, which is on a gentle slope. I have to be careful carrying the coffee back to bed as the steps are at different heights, and the doorways are small enough to bump your head on. As I lie there, beneath a ceiling constructed of woven chestnut branches and stone slabs, I survey my surroundings, and come to the pleasing conclusion that there’s not a single right angle in sight.