Journey of the Hosteller

The path through Biggin Dale. Join me, O Reader, for a Cautionary Tale. A day of rain, and darkness, and yea, much lamentation. Much wickedness was visited upon me, and it was largely my fault. But before launching into this yarn of almost Biblical woe, there are a few loose threads(!) to be gathered. Firstly, I should mention that I am usually a very well-prepared traveller. I carry plenty of water and other provisions, I look at my route beforehand, and I take suitable hiking gear. This was (quite literally) a dark day for me, but my consolation is that I was never in any real danger, and was able to learn from my mistakes. It almost goes without saying, but just to hammer home the fundamentals: Wear suitable (waterproof) clothing and boots. Carry enough provisions. If hiking solo, let at least one other person know where you are going. Carry a phone and a battery pack . Eagle-eyed readers may have picked up on a subtle hint as to my error most grave. Allow me to set the scene. In De...

  A section of moody coastline near YHA Manorbier. The Mists of Time part and lo! There! A recent memory! In June 2024 I took advantage of one of the many YHA member discounts offered throughout the year - these are available only on select hostels, of course, lest excitement threaten to overwhelm you, Reader. Discount secured, I hoved down to Wales, like an infinitely less warlike Edward Longshanks. I had previously spent a few happy holidays in beautiful Snowdonia, but had sadly neglected to enjoy the many charms of the Pembrokeshire coast in the south of Wales. So it was that I settled on YHA Manorbier, nestled on the south coast but a short drive from Pembroke. My girlfriend and I were booked into a 'landpod', which is basically a small cabin - very much glamping. A few years ago I would have scoffed at the idea of such luxury, but now that I've sampled the good life, I find it difficult to contemplate camping in anything so humdrum as a tent .  Church Door Cove Step ou...

Red Tarn, as viewed from Helvellyn An intriguing title, I know. I have employed a tricksome gambit to garner your attention. Marvel! At my devilish cunning as I continue to keep you guessing. Gaze! Upon my Hitchcockian powers of suspense. Tire! Of this unnecessary postponing of a reveal that can only prove disappointing. Well then, to the meat of it. There are a number of hostels I visited long enough ago that I can't confidently attest to the currentness of my account. I have limited photos (if any) of my time there. I also have limited memories, which are the photos of the mind, in a way. I have decided to group these together in-between more detailed descriptions of my ventures. I have dubbed posts with grouped hostels 'hotpots', because, in my tortured analogy, this mix of information is metaphorically more potatoes than meat. Unwisely continuing my food metaphors, I hope you have your roasted vegetables, light sauce and grilled fish ready, because this is a real Sauvig...

The majesty of the Lake District. Memory fails me on the exact location, and words don't do it justice. Beware: Purple prose incoming. I have made no secret of my love for the Lake District: prince of my heart, apple of my eye. Clouds, you may have noticed, have a strange way of heightening the beauty of some places, and it's very fortunate for the Lake District that they do, because I have 'suffered' through some exceptionally wet holidays there. Fortunate as it is to have its manifold delights remain undampened, even thrown into relief, by the frequent rain, the region's high number of YHA hostels is hardly surprising. Between April and May 2016, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to volunteer at YHA Ambleside, on the shores of the impressive Windermere, the largest lake in England. Not content with mere geographical supremacy, it looms large in literature too, in terms of the works it has inspired. Wordsworth wrote about it (obviously), and Oscar Wilde us...