The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
‘Beaches stretch into the distance – perfect for sandcastles as well as sun-worshippers’
Where do you go to keep everyone happy on a family holiday? From Rügen and Brittany to Alberta, you have the answers
LA DOLCE VITA
Our family holidays in the early 1960s were always in England – but after two years of saving for a trip to Italy, we headed for Dover in a red Austin packed with camping gear, suitcases and British “essentials”. For a 10-yearold, it was magical: the sights, sounds and smells of Europe; long sticks of French bread; soft cheeses and oddtasting fizzy water; Swiss chocolate; maps and phrase books, lakeside campsites, and the snow-crested Alps.
The car overheated on the mountain pass south to Italy – to lemon trees and grapevines, ice cream and spaghetti, terraced hillsides, olive groves, sunshine and golden beaches stroked by a warm sea. It was life-changing. Paul Thornton, Cornwall
A CHRISTMAS GIFT
I saw our planned Christmas break at the Pheasant Hotel, Norfolk, through rose-tinted spectacles. I imagined all of us – me, my husband, our three grown-up children, their partners, grandchildren and a cousin – sitting by a real fire with twinkling Christmas trees dotted about. There would be long coastal walks, birdwatching in Cley and shopping in Holt. On Christmas Eve, we would sing carols in the hotel foyer before putting the kids to bed ready for Father Christmas.
As the holiday came closer, I began to panic. Would we all get on for three whole days? What had I done? Years later, I remember that holiday with a warm glow. It really was rose-tinted. Julie Wilson, Norfolk
COASTGUARD DUTIES
For me and my brother, aged 11 and 13, nothing could have been more thrilling than a stay in a coastguard’s cottage in Hampshire with no running water or electricity, located right on the beach, with a lighthouse and castle nearby. Accessed via a two-mile hike along a shingle spit, or by a short sail, it was straight out of Treasure Island. We went to bed by candlelight and took early-morning swims to wash.
With two other families staying in the same terrace, we had playmates. In stormy weather, we played cards and board games. Ships coming in and out of the Solent caused a swell on the beach, so we raced to the water and “surfed” the waves. It was magical. Judith Mitchell, London
A MULTI-GEN GEM
Where do you go for a threegeneration family holiday with four children under the age of seven? A gîte at Moëlan-surMer, Brittany, with an indoor pool, a garden and a rocky shoreline nearby proved ideal. Further afield, we picnicked on golden beaches, played on grassy dunes and paddled in gentle waves that rippled onto soft sand: the perfect playground.
We explored the medieval walled city of Concarneau and its fishing port. At Zoo de Pont-Scorff, we peered through fencing at “wild” beasts and, at a petting zoo, mingled with animals including lemurs. We fed yesterday’s Breton crèpes to Vietnamese pot-bellied pigs, goats and donkeys, which devoured them with relish – just as we had done with today’s fresh crèpes at breakfast. Margaret Reed, Wiltshire
JUST LIKE THE BROCHURE
It was one of those rare moments in life when I decided to step outside my comfort zone. Recently separated, I had two children aged 10 and 13, loved skiing and needed a pick-me-up. So my 10-year-old son and I went to a travel agent (this was the mid-1990s) and he spotted a picture of Lake Louise, in Alberta, which leapt from the pages of a travel brochure.
So began my big adventure: not just with my two children, but also my elderly mother (“I’ll enjoy looking at the snow-capped mountains while you all go skiing”). On this, the children’s first holiday abroad, we stayed at the sublime Post Hotel – and Lake Louise was as magical as in the brochure. The skiing was fantastic and my son went on to become a ski instructor when he grew up. That holiday is etched in all our memories – and we still talk about it. Alexis Stratfold, Alderney
PLAIN SAILING
We happened to be living in Tortola, in the Virgin Islands, during the 1980s when a friend lent us a little sailing dinghy called Junket. It had one red sail. Our children were aged five and 10 at the time and we suggested that they each invite a friend to come with us on a camping trip to a neighbouring uninhabited island.
We all piled into the boat, almost submerging it, with a cargo of basic food, water and candles – but also a bottle of rum for us grown-ups. Luckily, the sea was blue and calm.
Having landed at a tiny jetty, we clambered uphill to a wooden shack where there was no electricity, no water and no loo. We built a fire from palm fronds, our music was the sound of the waves and we drank our rum mixed with coconut water. Our children will always remember that perfect holiday. Dick Bullen, Gloucestershire