Hidden away up a concealed staircase, its bright neon sign the only clue of any potential shenanigans, Lost in Brixton has landed in South London. There’s enough room for 440 revellers to kick back on its rooftop and enjoy the South American-inspired cocktail list featuring 16 varieties of spritz, or a chilled local Brixton Brewery beer depending on the mood.
Plenty of greenery gives the space a jungle vibe, while the retractable roof is a welcoming, if slightly optimistic, inclusion. Food is available from a selection of local eateries, and ordering is as simple as snapping a QR code, paying online and waiting for it to turn up at your table. We certainly wouldn’t mind getting lost here!
“You were looking right at it. It had a winkle on top,” North Harris Trust ranger Daryll Brown calls out to me. I take a deep breath and dive again into the murky, cold water. On my first attempt I’d missed it, but now I see the shape in the sand, six or seven metres below the surface. I take the creamy shell up to the surface to inspect it. It’s heavy, with a scallop inside that would do any restaurant proud.
Minutes later, Daryll returns from a dive clutching a massive red crab. He holds it out to show me, careful to keep his gloved digits away from angry claws. “They could have your finger off,” he grimaces, before releasing the crab back to the deep.
You could eat well off what you can find around the coast of Harris. In fact, local and travelling seafood lovers do. But we’re not here to find dinner. Instead, we’re exploring sites on the North Harris Snorkel Trail.
The trail, created by Daryll, has six sites for locals and tourists to get to know the coast’s unique creatures and underwater landscapes. “We have sea grasses like you’d find in the Caribbean, as well as starfish, urchins and tons of fish,” Daryll had explained before we entered the bracing water. “A lot of people don’t understand why we’d want to snorkel in this water. They think it’s going to be too cold and there’ll be nothing to see. But once they get in, they realise it’s incredible.”
Together the Isle of Harris and the connected larger Isle of Lewis make up one island in the remote Outer Hebrides, off the west coast of Scotland. It’s a paradise for hikers, nature lovers, road-trippers and photographers, with glassy lochs, rugged mountains and some of the world’s most beautiful beaches. There are also strange, lunar-like landscapes, some of them used as locations during the filming of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Some of Scotland’s most remarkable wildlife lives here, too, including red deer and, with 13 pairs, the UK’s largest population of golden eagles. The surrounding waters are home to basking sharks, all manner of whales (pilot whales and orcas are here year round, while others – minkes and humpbacks – are seasonal), dolphins, seals and more.
Our Outer Hebrides adventure starts in Glasgow. “Welcome to the Highlands” is written across a blue Scotland flag that greets us as we drive beyond the shores of Loch Lomond and through Glencoe to catch the ferry from Mallaig, on the mainland, to Skye, the largest island in the Inner Hebrides.
We stay overnight in Portree, setting out next morning to explore the rocky pinnacles of the Old Man of Storr and the eerie landscapes of the Quiraing (as seen in Prometheus and the latest version of Macbeth), although mist and rain obscure the view.
While Skye is famous and popular – even during the rain its hot spots are overrun – the Island of Harris and Lewis is sometimes referred to as Scotland’s best-kept secret. We take an afternoon ferry across from Uig to Tarbert, Harris’s tiny capital. As we drive down the east coast of South Harris on the Golden Road, there are noticeably fewer cars and people; the landscape is wilder and more peaceful. There’s natural beauty around every turn, with yellow heather on peaty moorland, inland lochs and small fishing boats resting along the coast. Greylag geese and sheep roam freely along the single-lane road. The remains of abandoned crofts crumble slowly on the hills.
We circle the island’s south tip, stopping at Rodel to climb the spooky tower of fifteenth-century St Clement’s Church then make our way up the west coast, which looks like a different island altogether. Here, the rocky landscapes are replaced by vast white beaches. On famously beautiful Luskentyre we take a walk along the sand as waves crash in off the Atlantic, before driving down the west coast to the Sound of Harris, a luxurious, self-catering house overlooking the wild channel.
At Tarbert the following day, we call in at Harris Distillery, one of the most remote distilleries in Scotland. Having opened in 2015, its first batch of whisky is still a few years off, but its distillers produce a tasty, if pricey, gin using an interesting ingredient: sugar kelp is a kind of seaweed harvested in the local waters. We splash out on a bottle to take with us around the island.
Next morning, we drive to Hushinish Beach on the west coast of North Harris, passing shaggy highland cows, their long golden hair blowing in the wind, along the way. Lambs bleat nervously, clinging to their mothers for protection, as we hike across the grassland, known here as machair, and climb a steep trail up the cliffs. The colour of the sand and the vivid blue ocean from high above makes an incredible picture. Clouds roll by, throwing dramatic shadows onto Scarp, a small island with just a few houses and dilapidated old crofts. The ocean is so clear I can see the rocks deep below the surface.
It’s here we meet Daryll to explore the first site on the snorkel trail. It’s cold, so we pull on six-millimetre wetsuits and hoods to guard against water that’s around 12ºC. In the summer months, Daryll assures me, the ocean around Harris can be bathwater warm, but it’s far from that today – the cold knocks the air from my lungs when I first sink into it. A few minutes later, my body begins to adjust and I enjoy the refreshing swim around the bay. Golden kelp forests and what look like giant ponytails, but are in fact bootlace seaweed, dance below us in the ocean. Huge crabs sidestep along the sand. “It’s a magical landscape,” says Daryll when we surface.
At Seilamol Bay, a short drive away, the water is cooler still, but filled with life. “We’ve got everything here,” says Daryll as he brings a bright purple starfish to the surface to study. “There’s so much to see.” There are more scallops below us, as well as pollock and schools of tiny silver sand eels.
On the drive back to Tarbert, Daryll takes out his binoculars to track a bird gliding along the coast. “That’s a goldie,” he says, pointing out the golden eagle. “Two-point-two-metre wingspan. An adult. A beauty.”
Slightly drier and warmer next morning, we drive from Harris to Scalpay, a tiny island connected by a bridge, for a kayak trip with the Scaladale Centre’s Sean Ziehm-Stephen. “I love living on a little Hebridean island,” Sean tells us, as we paddle out across the open ocean. “The access to the great outdoors is unsurpassed.”
We make our way past rocks and islands filled with nesting gulls and chicks, orange-beaked oystercatchers and Arctic terns. “They’re amazing,” he says of terns. “They have the longest migration of any creature on the planet – from the Arctic to Antarctica and back every year. They stop here to rest.”
On the return leg, we ‘surf’ waves, allowing them to drive us forward, before coming around a corner to find a group of chubby seals on the rocks. Seeing us approach, they roll off their perches and flop one by one into the safety of the ocean. As we quietly float by in the kayaks, their heads start to bob above the surface of the water behind us and to our sides, keeping watch from a safe distance. Curious creatures, they swim with us for half an hour, popping up in inlets and harbours, as we return to shore. It’s good to have their company.
In the afternoon, we drive north through Harris and into Lewis, bright sunlight bringing out the vivid colours of the hills, grasslands and lochs of the epic island.
We head west to the famous Callanish Stones, Neolithic standing stones that are thought to be around 5,000 years old. Their purpose is unknown, but some archaeologists speculate they could be part of an ancient pagan burial site; others believe the design corresponds to an astrological phenomenon.
At Stornoway, the capital of Lewis and far larger than Tarbert, we head to the harbour in the morning to meet Gordy Maclean, skipper with Stornoway Seafari. Snug inside thick flotation suits, we climb on board his RIB and motor gently out of the harbour. Destination? The Shiant Islands.
“The Shiants are a very important place for nesting seabirds,” wildlife guide Sheena Anderson informs us. “Ten per cent, or around 135 nesting pairs, of the UK’s Atlantic puffin population are here. It gets very noisy in the summer. It’s insane.”
Cormorants fly straight as arrows alongside the boat as we skip over the waves at 25 knots. Gordy slows and circles around to watch a pair of harbour porpoises moving through the water. “They’re quite shy and not as playful as dolphins,” Sheena informs us.
Further along, we stop to watch a white-tailed sea eagle, the largest bird of prey in the UK. It lands at its cliff-face nest to rejoin its mate. “We see sea eagles quite often around here,” says Sheena. “They mate for life and use the same nest for generations. They’re incredible birds.”
Reaching the Shiants, we rest at the mouth of a cave at Rough Island. “The Shiant islands are three islands: Rough Island (the largest), House Island and the Island of the Virgin Mary,” Sheena continues. “Rough Island is the highest at 150 metres and it’s all volcanic rock. The formations are very cool.”
Moving slowly, we travel beneath vast dark columns of rock, stained white with guano. The walls are alive and crowded with birds; guillemots, fulmars, kittiwakes, razorbills and cormorants are among them. It’s quite a spectacle.
Further along, seals cover black rocks pounded by waves. We disturb a seal pup sleeping in a sheltered nook. It wakes, blinks a few times and rolls off the rocks into the ocean.
“Now, let’s surf,” Gordy says, as he throttles the engine and speeds around a second island. The sky above us is filled with birds.
A heavy rainstorm batters us as we return to Stornoway Harbour and continues through the afternoon, so we drop plans for a hike on Lewis’ north coast, the UK’s windiest point. Instead, we visit Museum nan Eilean at Lews Castle. Among other relics from Hebridean history, there are several ancient Lewis chessman – detailed little figures carved from walrus tusk by craftsmen in Norway more than 800 years ago – displayed in glass cabinets. The chessmen were found in 1831 in the sand dunes of Uig Bay.
There are large-scale versions of the chessmen around the west of the island, part of the island’s Bealach art project. On a grey afternoon, we drive out to track them down, taking a scenic loop around Valtos, Kneep and Ardroil, beaches that rival Harris’ finest.
It takes us a while to find the King, a tall chess statue on the machair near Ardroil. But once we’ve got our eye in, we tick off art pieces
thick and fast, locating the Berserker outside Uig Community Centre, and the Knight at Abhainn Dearg Distillery in Carnish.
We almost drive past Spring Well, another art piece, by the roadside in Mangersta. It depicts an arm jutting out from the grass bank and pouring spring water from a glass bottle. Across the road, there’s a philosophical road sign pointing in various directions: This Way, That Way, Other Way, Might Have Been, Dead End. The signpost seems a little downbeat and pessimistic to be standing here, because, actually, here on Harris and Lewis, whether it’s an eagle, a highland cow, a mountain, beach or a strange hand reaching out of the ground, you never know what will be around the next corner.
One kilometre from the Russian border, in a restricted permit-only strip of eastern Finland, lies No Man’s Land, the buffer that separates the European Union from the former Eastern Bloc. This area contains the highest concentration of brown bears in Finland, and it’s here that I set off on foot into the forest.
The bears don’t worry me. I’m following an experienced guide and my bear viewing will take place overnight, once I am tucked inside my wildlife-watching cabin, known as a hide. Or so I think. As we approach the hides, I glimpse movement. About 50 metres beyond them, three huge furry mountains are having a violent altercation. Suddenly there’s a fourth, just 30 metres away, but he’s as relaxed as I am terrified. Standing exposed in this clearing, I’m a bear snack personified.
“Oh, I see the bears are here before us today,” guide and wildlife photographer Lassi Rautiainen remarks casually. I’d met the 62-year-old at his lakeside Wildlife Safaris base camp, a former logger’s cottage, in remote forest 630 kilometres northeast of Helsinki. Wildlife enthusiasts in the know contact Lassi when they’re keen to photograph Finland’s top carnivores: brown bears, wolves, wolverines and, rarely, the elusive lynx. Before setting out for the hides, Lassi tells us Finnish brown bears are not dangerous, despite being the same species as the North American grizzly, which has caused fatalities. Finland has about 2,000 bears, and every year 150 to 200 are legally hunted, with the meat commanding a premium in high-end restaurants.
“In Canada and Alaska, the bears are protected in national parks and they do not care about vehicles or humans,” says Lassi. “But our animals will be shot if they are too close to houses or people. The more stupid bears that are not shy of humans will lose their life.”
We split into three groups for the overnight viewing – my group includes a couple from the UK and Lassi. Leaving us watching the squabbling bears, Lassi shows the couple to their hide before depositing us in ours. “Please do not come out until I come back at 7.30am,” he cautions. “I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about scaring the bears.” We watch him enter his own hide 20 metres away.
Our hide contains six bunk beds, an attached (and remarkably odour-free) composting toilet and a long viewing window. Under the window are camera-sized cut-outs in the wall, with fabric sleeves and drawstrings that tighten around the camera lens to exclude breezes and mosquitoes.
Beyond the window, a natural clearing is fringed with taiga, a subarctic forest of pines, birch and spruce. Fifty metres away, a carcass has been secured to a tree. The four bears, the largest of which probably weighs in the vicinity of 370 kilograms, bicker with one another while fending off majestic white-tailed eagles, insidious crows and, surprisingly, four types of seagull. From our primo seats, it’s an awe-inspiring show.
Many bears drift in and out of the feeding station through the light-filled summer night, and the action becomes almost personal. As everyone else in my hide naps, an inquisitive bear approaches the particularly rickety structure where Lassi is sleeping. It advances, sniffing the air. My breathing stops as the bear rears to its colossal full height, leaning on the roof and investigating the tarpaulin wall of our guide’s hide. I’m weighing up whether I should attempt to rescue him from the jaws of this predator, when the bear drops to its dinner plate-sized paws and lumbers away.
After midnight, a skittish, shadowy movement in the trees introduces Finland’s second-largest carnivore, a grey wolf. At 2.30am, the sun finally makes a brief shallow arc below the horizon and, for 20 minutes, the landscape dims. The wolf slinks into the clearing, feeding warily while dodging bear charges. Although no wolverine appears, when Lassi knocks on our door hours later, I am exhausted and deliriously happy.
Back at the Wildlife Safaris base, we’re invited to use the wood-fired sauna. More than just a novelty, for the Finns sauna is a cultural mainstay. They are traditionally taken naked, with time in the heat interspersed with dips in freezing water. Emerging in a cloud of steam, I prudishly run down the jetty in my towel, ditching it as I plunge into the bracing lake water. Invigorated and now awake, I’m ready to hit the road.
One hour’s drive to the west is Kuhmo, a timber town making the transition to tourism. Strolling the boardwalk along the tumbling River Pajakkajoki, we watch locals fly-fishing for salmon. We munch on korvapuusti, a cinnamon and cardamom pastry, before learning more about Central Finland’s wildlife at the Petola Visitor Centre. I learn why we didn’t see a wolverine – there are only 50 mature animals left in the entire country.
Aside from impressive carnivores, Central Finland’s other natural claim to fame is the Lakeland region, several hours south of Kuhmo. Here, glaciers carved out the landscape leaving thousands of islands, peninsulas and a spectacular forest-edged coastline. Lakeland is 25 per cent water, and we traverse the area using free car ferries, an extension of the road network.
The largest of Finland’s lakes is Lake Saimaa, and in a channel between two islands sits the hamlet of Oravi. Here we experience another Finnish tradition, staying in a lakeside cabin. Ours sits up a hill, with a path that leads from the sauna to the lake through birch forest and wild blueberries alive with iridescent butterflies. On the jetty we find a wooden rowing boat and explore uninhabited islets.
Ramping up the pace, we meet Tanja Heiskanen, who’s dressed in medieval garb and who whips us across the glassy lake in a speed boat to Hotel & Spa Resort Järvisydän. The Heiskanen family has owned these quirky lodgings for 11 generations, since 1658, when the original hotel was built on the ice path that facilitated year-round trading between Russia and Sweden. In a nod to history, the recently remodelled reception area sports a 200-year-old wooden boat hull protruding from the wall. These days, guests enjoy hiking and lake activities and, in winter, snowmobile and ice-skating tours explore the frozen lake.
The hotel’s Lake Spa building pays homage to its natural surroundings, its architecture featuring pine and birch logs up to 2,500 years old salvaged from the lake floor. The complex takes the concept of the sauna to a whole new level and I work up a sweat five different ways, from the gentle to the blisteringly hot. The weird and wonderful storm shower pummels me with water jets representing different seasonal rains, while a soundtrack of thunder and rain is mixed with storm-related scents. Skipping the plunge in the lake, I opt instead for a bucket of icy water dumped over my pre-heated head, leading to involuntary shrieking.
While I’ve come to the region to experience the lakes, an added drawcard is the Saimaa ringed seal, found only in this freshwater lake. With only around 400 individuals remaining, this is one of the most endangered seals in the world. Heading back to Oravi, I try to maximise my seal-spotting chances by joining a guided two-day kayak through the forested islands of Linnansaari National Park.
Oravi’s narrow channel opens to the lake’s wide mirrored surface, dotted with tiny granitic islets topped with tufts of pine trees. On the open water, our guide mentions that our five double kayaks should stay together through the navigational channels, lest we collide with a boat. I can’t help but laugh, as there are no boats nor any other trace of humans here for as far as the eye can see.
Our relaxed paddle passes nesting eagles and rocky passages. Occasionally we land and take short hikes to viewpoints. On Linnansaari Island, we’re accommodated in a basic red cabin and an elevated tent that’s suspended between three birch trees.
As dinner approaches we watch our guide prepare small lake fish known as vendace in a simple wood-fired smoker. They’re served with rustic potatoes and crusty bread and demolished at a communal picnic table.
Our allotted timeslot in the wood-fired sauna arrives and by now we’re dab hands at the technique. Adding a scoop of water to the hot rocks releases a cloud of steam and the temperature surges towards my melting point. With practised aplomb we hurl ourselves from the sauna’s small jetty into Lake Saimaa, duck diving to the freezing deeper water.
Sitting on the dock, I feel both invigorated and calm as I wait for the sun to set at 10pm. I’m savouring the silence when a dark blob ripples the surface. “It’s a seal!” I call out to alert everyone, before I realise we have this place to ourselves.
Soon enough, the Saimaa ringed seal makes a second and third appearance, catching its breath and scrutinising us with enormous black eyes before submerging to the tannin-stained depths. It’s no amazing photographic encounter, but it’s authentic and natural, like Central Finland itself.
It doesn’t take much to understand how Sublime Comporta got its moniker – it’s a divine lodging showcasing contemporary architecture within stunning surroundings. But this exclusive beachside hotel, with 23 rooms and suites as well as a series of villas of varying sizes, doesn’t rely on its good looks to get by.
Located in the up-and-coming region of Alentejo, Sublime Comporta’s focus on sustainable practices – solar power, electric car chargers, an organic garden and partnerships with local growers to use regional produce – gives it eco-friendly status. Plus, it’s just launched nine suites that are perched above a swimming pool treated with aquatic plants rather than chemicals. You want luxury, minus the environmental guilt?
Forget trawling the tourist-heavy streets of Madrid in order to immerse yourself in the Spanish capital. The best way to experience the city is from a great height – 12 storeys up at the VP Plaza España Design hotel, to be exact. Here you’ll find Ginkgo Sky Bar, an uber-glam rooftop that enjoys 360-degree panoramic views and boasts a glass-bottom swimming pool, vertical garden and Spanish-Asian dining options.
During the day, it’s a sun-drenched urban oasis with an unrivalled vantage point for spotting the city’s major attractions; come twilight a translucent dance floor slides over the pool and Ginkgo transforms into a lively nightspot complete with soundproof bar and an impressive line-up of DJs. If you’ve only got one night in Madrid, this is the place to spend it.
Even though it’s located in a country not traditionally known for its beer, Turkey’s the Populist brewery knows how to make a tasty ale. This Istanbul taproom is at the forefront of the city’s current craft craze and pours a rotating selection of 12 beers – anything from a berry-spiked wheat brew to mocha stout – making it a must-visit destination for beer aficionados.
Located in the trendy district of Bomontiada, the Populist occupies the former site of the historic Bomonti Beer Factory, and there are a few subtle nods to its predecessor (fermentation tanks on display, original exposed brickwork) that do not go unnoticed. The motto at the Populist is Serve the People, and a drinking sesh here proves it sure can deliver on that promise.
Part wine bar, part tasting and selling room, part events area, the recently opened Kolby Wine Bar is shaping up to be the new triple threat on Prague’s wine-quaffing scene. With renowned local architecture firm CMC at the helm of the project, the dedicated wine space has been specifically designed to best showcase the vinos from the famous Kolby vineyard.
We’re talking custom-made joinery products, a bespoke shelving system for storing and presenting bottles, and a modern, minimalist approach to the interiors. Tasting sessions take place on the reg or you can pop in any time for a glass of Kolby’s finest – the riesling and chardy go down a treat. Consider this your one-stop wine destination when you hit up the Czech capital.
Huskies adore running, and their incredible power and skill has been utilised for centuries to transport goods and people in some of the world’s most remote, snow-bound communities. They’re a joy to watch, but it’s even more fun to let them take you on a wild sled ride through the snow and ice. Especially when that snow and ice is located in the idyllic setting of Finland.
As part of Hurtigruten’s Follow the Lights 18-day small group escorted tour, you’ll visit a husky farm in northern Finland to learn all about these amazing creatures. There’s also the unique opportunity to experience a sled ride through a landscape of frozen lakes, fairy-tale forests and snowy plateaus.
What’s a husky sled ride like? It’s exhilarating to say the least. Imagine being pulled along by up to 60 huskies across the snowy Finnish terrain at speeds of up to 50 kilometres an hour. Imagine if you fail to follow rule number one of sled club: don’t let go of the sled! That’s not a whole lot of fun, but you’ll receive proper training and safety tips before you set off. But seriously, don’t let go of the the sled.
Set sail from Reykjavik on Le Boreal, a luxury expedition cruiser servicing a maximum of 199 passengers. From Iceland you’ll head into frosty waters accompanied by a stellar team of experts, ranging from historians and naturalists to a photo coach. Over the course of the journey, you’ll visit the tiny capital of Nuuk in Greenland, explore the spectacular fjords and towering icebergs in Zodiacs, watch for wildlife and discover the region’s Viking history.
While the landscape is awe-inspiring, you’ll be equally enthralled by the people you meet in remote communities and tiny villages along the way. When the day is done, sit on the balcony of your stateroom and enjoy the excellent international fare in the two restaurants.
Hidden in the depths of the Smithfield Meat Market is Oriole, a bar where Africa meets Europe. Playing with history, Oriole embraces the magic of time, and its interior creates an atmosphere of warmth, mystery and magic. The food menu treats guests to flavours and ingredients from all corners of the world that are artfully combined into imaginative dishes, while a list of cocktails will see guests transcend to another era and offers a sense of adventure in a glass.
Tantalise your tastebuds choosing dishes like sweet potato and green curry ice-cream with tamarind, sambal and palm heart while you sip on the Cape Of Good Hope cocktail, a concoction of Plymouth Gin, buchu infusion, grapefruit liqueur and lime juice.
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