I spent two months camping out in Australia a couple years ago. The continent was a muse. The mountains, the waves, the winds and the stars – these were the highlights. So simple, so universal, yet not to be found anywhere else. So stark were the clouds, and the perfume of the wilding flowers, the landscapes became impressionistic in the haziness of the heat, the colors of the flushing sun faintly rising to radiance. The kookaburras raucously laughed high above in the eucalyptus trees. I never felt the burden of time. It was an enveloping place of simplicity, beauty, chill and freedom. The best way to take it all in is on the road and in a tent.
I’ve spent at least one week, often up to a month, every year of my life in Pont l’Abbé in Brittany, France. While France has always been one of the number one destinations for British holidaymakers, in recent years the numbers have dwindled due to the increased poor exchange rate of the Euro and of course the recession. But who wouldn’t want to spend their days looking perpetually windswept and rosy-cheeked after cycling around the luscious countryside and pristine coastline followed by evenings tucking into fresh shellfish and enough butter to send your cholesterol through the roof? It may be the Breton blood flowing through me making me a little biased, but there’s definitely something about the Finistère seaside and Atlantic sea breeze that slows down time and makes everyone a little more carefree. (That, or the fact that the majority of the population are either retirees or holiday-makers…)
Rambling in France’s newest national park