The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
‘Drawn by the roar of the waves, we witnessed a majestic sea, venting its fury’
We asked for your favourite boltholes in which to enjoy a British winter break – and you supplied some wonderful ideas
WARM WORDS
Kingussie in the Cairngorms is a great winter bolthole. It’s much prettier than nearby Aviemore but close enough to hit the slopes if there is snow. The ruin of Ruthven Barracks outside the town, which can be seen from the A9, is dramatic and a great place for the children to run around, and the hills behind the town are a good place for a walk or tobogganing. If there is no snow we swap our skis for mountain bikes and head out of town as there are lots of trails in the nearby pine forests. Marshmallows on a stick warmed on the fire are a popular way to end an active day for the family (although I prefer a warming dram of whisky while toasting my toes).
Chris Allen, Buckinghamshire
SWEET DREAMS
Our favourite place for a winter getaway has to be the Three Ways House Hotel near Chipping Campden in the Cotswolds. Not only is this a fabulously cosy hotel with log fires and squidgy sofas, it is also home to The Pudding Club. This delicious concept involves the preservation of the Great British pudding, from jam roly poly to sticky toffee. On Pudding Club nights you get to try seven of these wonders (top tip – go easy on the custard or you may struggle…). You also have the option of staying in one of the themed bedrooms, which are superbly creative. My favourite is the syrup sponge room where even the lamp is made of syrup tins. An absolute must for anyone with a sweet tooth.
Prue Barry, Devon
SHED SOME LIGHT
One should never need to travel far to find a bolthole. Mine is a wooden shed. The shed stands in a field which is sandwiched between a chicken farm and an industrial estate in Suffolk. It has no electricity or water. I paint and I write there. I listen to music there on an old CD player and my dog is always by my side. The gentle clucking of the chickens and the cacophony of metal grinding that comes from my neighbours are also music to my ears, giving me inspiration as I work. Truthfully, I wouldn’t swap this bolthole for the most rare and scenic place in the whole world.
Trisha Elliot, Suffolk
THE LAKE ESCAPE
My favourite place to spend the winter is Keswick, in Cumbria. It may rain more often than it snows, but the glorious scenery makes it a real treat. There are fewer crowds, too, and while summer in the Lakes has its charms, it’s easier to get into many of the restaurants and coffee shops in the town centre at this time of year. There are plenty of cottages in the surrounding area to stay in (many considerably cheaper than in the peak season). It’s the B&Bs that shine, though – they are often decked out in Christmas decorations, with hosts all the more hospitable because of the relative quietness. Wrapping up in a warm scarf and walking boots, a meander along the shore of Derwentwater – out in the fresh air – is our ideal way to ring in the festive season.
Sarah Davidson, Norfolk
WALK THIS WAY
Having lived most of my life in Africa, Christmas has usually been pretty hot, as December is mid-summer there. This always felt a bit wrong and, since coming back to live here, I have revelled in the idea resuming Christmases at the old family home in North Yorkshire where it was always cold, with plenty of snow. We would muffle up to walk the short distance to the local church before hurrying back to the warmth of the library, where there would be a roaring fire and a large Christmas tree, under which nestled a large variety of beautifully wrapped presents. Some of these would be opened before lunch after which we would stagger back and open the rest. It was then obligatory to go for a long walk through the nearby woods and throw snowballs at each other. That, to my mind, is the sort of place that Christmas should be spent. Mark Milbank, Dorset
A WINTER WATERLAND
“You’ve picked a great day for it,” said the guy selling tickets. We looked at the dark sky threatening to lighten its load. Was he being ironic? “After all this rain, the falls are magnificent! Tread carefully though, it’s slippery in places.” He wasn’t kidding, but – equipped with winter boots and poles – we started the climb. Ingleton Falls in the Yorkshire Dales had been on our list for a long time and didn’t disappoint. The thunderous noise greeted us first, a promising prelude to what lay ahead. Torrents of chocolatey water tumbled down the hillside into frothy swirling pools, the spray mixing with the now heavy rain. We climbed on, six waterfalls in all, each as spectacular and gasp-inducing as the last. We were exhilarated and extremely wet by the end, but nothing a pie and a pint in the pub couldn’t fix, while our coats dried by the fire.
Tracey Calnan, Northamptonshire