I first visited Andalucía in September of 2024.

I already knew from hiking the Camino that I love Spain.

Whenever I arrive in Spain, I immediately want to pull up a chair and stay a while.

If I am on a walk in Spain, I can’t pass a vende sign without stopping to look up the property to see how much it would be to buy a small house that I could turn into a pilgrims’ albergue, (my life plan for when my legs stop wanting to carry me so far down the road).

Because I keep returning to the Camino in northern Spain, it took me a while to get to Andalucía in the south, but now that I have been, I cannot seem to get enough of southern Spain.

Just over two years ago I signed up to lead a trip in what is known as the Sherry Triangle, just south of Seville near the coast.

Fast forward two years and I have led four trips in the region and have plans to lead three more in 2026.

So what is it about Andalucía that has swept me right off my hiking boots?

It’s actually hard to say. I feel like I am still at the beginning stages of a love affair with Andalucía that I hope will continue for many years.

What I have to share about Andalucía is not a wealth of knowledge, but more like fragmentary impressions of a place I am still getting to know.

I’m still learning what it means that the cities and villages in southern Spain have “Moorish influence.” Between the 700s and 1400s, the Moors (a word that included Arabs, Berbers, Syrians, Persians and eventually Spaniards) ruled over much of Spain. Seville, Granada and Cordoba were all developed during this time period, which is what makes them and their surrounding smaller towns and villages so architecturally unique from the rest of Europe.

Los Pueblos Blancos (white villages) were built by the Moors and they were what first drew my attention to the area. I kept seeing photographs of these whitewashed hilltop towns. The first tour I led in Andalucia was actually called Los Pueblos Blancos.

There are so many pueblos blancos that it will take me many more trips to visit them all! From their perches on high, these villages invite you from afar to come wander their tiny, winding roads.

It’s difficult to choose a favorite, but I love how in Vejer de la Frontera, the locals decorate their courtyards with plants.

And everyone has outdoor seating with a view.

The ancient practice of whitewashing these towns kept the houses cooler in the summer heat, and it served to keep the walls sterile and clean, repelling both disease and bugs.

But mostly I think the whitewashing creates an inviting feel to these towns.

Different towns add their own local flare to the decor. Locally-crocheted canopies decorate Vélez de Benaudalla and in Trevelez, the highest village in Spain, all the flowerpots have their own handmade covers.

Flowers are definitely a theme. When I come home from Spain, I want to plant pots and pots of flowers everywhere, and in all the colors of the rainbow.

Artisan tile and creative cobblestone patterns are more ways the locals differentiate their white villages.

Around every corner is another tiny surprise.

It’s easy to get lost, but also easy to find your way. You just head uphill until you can see where you are again.

Another delight of being in Andalucia is that you are never too far away from the sea.

There are over 600 miles of coastline to enjoy and everyone you meet has their favorite beach.

Because I usually fly in and out of Malaga to get to Andalucia from Bristol, I like to bookend trips with days along the Costa del Sol. The C-1 train from Malaga Airport makes the beach way too easy to access.

As soon as I arrive, I walk along the seafront and smell the charcoals burning outside every restaurant where cooks are putting fresh fish on the spit.

Patatas bravas and boquerones are the perfect seaside treat. After several visits, I finally convinced Taido to meet me here for a weekend at the end of a trip, and I think I have won him over to the delights of being in the Spanish sun so hopefully more of these views are in our future together.

I also love the province of Cadiz and some of the beaches on the western side of Andalucia, where the surfers hang out for the winds.

It’s quieter than the Costa del Sol, but not as easy to get to with public transportation. I rented a car to explore this stretch of El Palmar de Vejer for a few days after a tour.

On my first trip to Andalucia in province of Cadiz, we spent time in Jerez and El Puerto de Santa Maria, both famous for sherry.

I didn’t think I liked sherry but I had no idea that there were so many kinds. After much sherry tasting with tapas, I found a dry sherry that I enjoy: Oloroso.

We did some coastal walks and wandered through several different nature reserves.

Our walks on this trip weren’t too long. Four or five miles tops. And we almost always followed our walks with a long lunch in some beautiful place.

After lunch, if there was time, we might head to a town square for a quick sherry before a bus ride back to our hotel.

After that first trip to the Cadiz province, I signed up to go right back and lead another Andalucían adventure, but this time I would stay in one of those small hilltop white villages.

I arrived in Tolox in the Sierra de las Nieves Mountains in March of 2023 after weeks and weeks of rain, both in Britain and in Spain.

The landscape that had been brown and dusty in the previous autumn had all turned green.

Instead of sherry tasting and city visits, this time I was there for a week of local walks in the Spanish National Park: Sierra de las Nieves.

I emerged from the winter glum of the UK into the Andalucían sunshine and it was delightful.

I walked new trails and made lists of places I wanted to come back to with friends.

Every afternoon we would return to Tolox from a different direction.

The welcoming sight of the village quickly became my favorite view of the week.

We ate simple, but beautiful meals at our hotel and in local restaurants in and around the village.

One day we took buses to the nearby village of Yunquera and then made our way back to Tolox across a valley and hills in between the two villages.

We had a local guide on this trip and we learned so much about the countryside plants and trees, including what was planted in the terraced hills around the towns: mostly olives, oranges, lemons, almonds and avocados.

I don’t know when I’ve seen so many olive trees!

Our walks were closer to eight miles each day, so we carried picnic lunches and spent the whole day outside.

I had such a hearty group of walkers from the UK. I had one couple from the Isle of Wight in their 70s who walk 20 miles every Saturday.

I am reminded on these trips that a body in motion stays in motion.

If we got back early in the afternoon to Tolox, sometimes we would stop in the main town square for a drink.

But most days we were back in time for a shower, a quick rest and then a walk to dinner.

I do love a week in the hills, and the hills in the Sierra Nieves were just about as lovely as my local hills, but with less rain.

We traveled through several forests, some of which are recently planted. The entire region is a biosphere reserve, where local plants are being protected and preserved.

We enjoyed hunting for wildflowers, especially orchids and tiny little wild daffodils, just about the size of a thumb.

And in the hills, there are still remnants of where farmers packed ice down in the winter to save for when the snow melted. The Sierra de las Nieves don’t see nearly as much snow as they used to, but at one time, the snow from these hills was the main source of ice in a time before refrigeration.

The ice was cut into blocks and loaded onto donkeys to sell, a luxury for those who could afford it.

It’s wild to think about life before refrigeration or electricity, especially since in the history of the world, both are relatively recent. I’m fairly sure I would not thrive without either.

Of all the places to sit and ponder these and many other life mysteries with a sandwich, the hillsides of the Sierra de las Nieves are pretty not too bad.

From Tolox, I took several buses to reach Granada to meet up with my friends for a week of hiking on the GR7, a hike from village to village for seven days. It was so delightful that I am saving it for its own post.

But as a teaser, here is a photo of us at our highest point of the hike with the Mulhacén in the background. (At 11,414 feet, the Mulhacén is the highest mountain in Spain.)

For now, I will skip ahead to my most recent trip to Andalucía and another week spent staying in one of the lovely pueblos blancos, but this time in the Sierra Nevadas.

Lanjarón is the town of water.

The name is derived from the Arabic words that mean “land of springs.”

True to its name, there are water fountains all over the town of Lanjaron, and people fill up their giant jugs to take home because the pure spring water is delicious.

Maybe it’s the water that makes everything else in Lanjaron shine so bright, but even the produce outside the markets caught my attention.

At every meal, I tried to order something that included slices of the gorgeous local tomatoes.

We stayed in the lovely Hotel Alcadima where we could eat breakfast outside and have dinner with a view of the surrounding hillsides.

On one of our first days we visited nearby Niguelas to go to an olive oil museum where the ancient modes of making olive oil with giant stones are preserved for history. Olives were loaded onto baskets and carried by donkeys up to Niguelas to be pressed into oil. The guide at the museum brought the entire process to life for us and I’ll never pour out olive oil without thinking about her careful instructions for buying and tasting the best olive oil.

A couple of days before the guests arrived, I went to Niguelas to make sure I knew where we were going and to do the walk we planned to do.

Then I walked back to Lanjaron on the GR7 which took me a little longer than I planned.

But I got high above both towns and ended up getting a good picture of the region that could only be traversed by donkeys until not so long ago. Lanjaron is the gateway to the Alpujarras, this region of the Sierra Nevadas. It was an important outpost in medieval times and as the Nasrid (the last Moorish) Kingdoms fell in the 15th century, the Alpujarras were the final stronghold.

In fact, we learned that after the Catholic church officially expelled Muslims from Spain, these villages kept at least one family behind to teach the conquistadors how to maintain the complex water system (or acequias) that the Moors built in these towns.

We walked along many of these ancient irrigation canals during our week together in the area.

Even the streets are designed to move water through the hilltop villages so that they don’t flood in the rain.

Of course the flowers and plants are beautiful in the town of water.

It was very dry and hot during our week there in September, but you would never have known it from the lush plants and gardens.

However, the hills were super dry and I had a fine layer of dust all over me at the end of every day’s wanderings.

One day I got high enough to enjoy a mountain spring that was running above ground, but mostly the water comes from deep within the mountains.

There are lots of hiking routes that follow the acequias (irrigation canals) so that you can see how high up they were built.

When my group arrived, we had mostly shorter hiking days followed by lunches in small villages.

But just in case we had a picnic or if we needed a snack, I kept my two favorite treats from the region in my backpack.

Toasted Spanish almonds and a fig log, which is dried fig mixed with chopped almonds and shaped into a loaf. These two items will forever be the treats I bring home from Andalucía. (Along with a bottle of Oloroso.)

Prickly pears, which were growing everywhere, are another local treat. They are so bright and inviting, but you only make the mistake of reaching out to touch the pink fruit with your bare hands one time. (Don’t ask me how I know.)

It would be hard to choose a favorite day out from our week in and around Lanjaron, as every day in the sunshine is a good day to me.

Our itinerary included several walks along local water routes, the favorite of which was probably the one that runs into Niguelas from the mountains above it.

We also visited a cave in Nerja where people lived over 25,000 years ago but was only discovered in the 1950s. Stretching over three miles with cave paintings that are more than 40,000 years old, the preservation of this site is impressive.

Another highlight of the week was a day in Granada. We had a tour of the old town and then spent the afternoon in the Alhambra.

The Alhambra is a palace and massive fortress complex built in the 1200s by the first Nasrid emir, who established Granada as a state in Andalucía, then called Al-Andalus.

As one of the best-preserved palaces of the historic Islamic world, the Alhambra is the most visited monument in Spain, to and it’s not hard to see why.

The detail in the architecture is just stunning. I spent a long time staring at the walls and ceilings of the Nasrid palaces taking in the exquisite ornate carving everywhere.

I can’t fathom how you make everything so symmetrically perfect in a time before modern tools. I would love to have watched some of these walls being created by artisans of the Nasrid Kingdoms. Many of the carvings are actually inscriptions with phrases from the Koran or other ancient writings.

The Alhambra also has beautiful gardens that you could spend days and days exploring. I have so many photos of the Alhambra that I will probably need to do another whole post just about this incredible place. But you can only take in so much in one afternoon before your legs are tired, and my group was wilting a bit in the sun by the end of our visit.

The day after we went to Granada and the Alhambra, we did a short coastal walk by the sea and walked to the top of  Salobreña.

From the top of the 10th century Moorish castle we could see for miles across the sea.

After exploring, we wandered down through the village and out to the beach.

We found a seaside cafe where we had a very long lunch, followed by a quick paddle in the sea before we went back to Lanjaron. (A “paddle” is what British people call wading barefoot in the surf of the sea.) In Lanjaron, we had time to sit by the pool before I had to go get ready for dinner. It was the perfect laid-back day to follow the busy visit to Granada.

On our final day of this trip, we drove up into the Alpujarras, the hills above Lanjaron, where the villages are high and remote. We visited a few of them, and walked from one to another along the GR7 before having our last outdoor lunch on a terrace looking out at the mountains.

Between trips to southern Spain, I had started reading Chris Stewart’s books about buying a farm in these mountains, which I found laugh-out-loud funny. (The first book is called Driving Over Lemons.) So it was fun to get walk the hills that he describes in those books.

I have also been reading Washington Irving’s Tales of The Alhambra. Irving wrote the book after his visit to The Alhambra in 1828 and it’s become a classic about Granada. He actually walked from Seville to Granada and after walking some of the GR7, I can better picture his journey. I love these words that he writes about it, and Spain in general:

Such were our minor preparations for the journey, but above all we laid in an ample stock of good humour, and a genuine disposition to be pleased; determining to travel in true contrabandista style; taking things as we found them, rough or smooth, and mingling with all classes and conditions in a kind of vagabond companionship. It is the true way to travel in Spain. With such disposition and determination, what a country it is for a traveller, where the most miserable inn is as full of adventure as an enchanted castle, and every meal is in itself an achievement! Let others repine at the lack of turnpike roads and sumptuous hotels, and all the elaborate comforts of a country cultivated and civilised into tameness and commonplace;

but give me the rude mountain scramble;

the roving, hap-hazard, wayfaring;

the half wild, yet frank and hospitable manners,

which impart a true-game flavour to dear old romantic Spain!

I join with Irving in many of his sentiments, perhaps especially packing “a genuine disposition to be pleased” for a journey and “what a country it is for a traveller!”

I’m excited to be heading back soon to continue my ongoing love affair with “dear old romantic Spain.”

The post Snapshots of Andalucia appeared first on Alison Chino.

After the delights of Porto and walking the Portuguese Camino, I knew I wanted MORE TIME in Portugal.

The next walking adventure I planned in Portugal was the surprisingly perfect Rota Vicentina! In fact I have spent so much time documenting the Rota Vicentina on this blog that I have neglected my city visits to Portugal (until now).

But if you are looking for your next beautiful trail to walk, please add the coastal Fisherman’s Trail to your list. What’s wild is that my first days on that trail were really just an add-on to a trip to Lisbon that I had planned with my sister, a happy, fortunate find after some city wandering.

Since that first trip, I have returned to Lisbon two more times, so this collection of photos and ramblings is from all three trips: January 2023, March 2023 (yes, I went RIGHT back two months later!) and December 2024/January 2025 (New Year’s).

I honestly didn’t expect to love Lisbon as much as I loved Porto. But after my first trip to Portugal, I read Night Train to Lisbon (also a film) and The Night in Lisbon, and I knew I had to go for myself and see Lisboa, (which I learned to pronounce properly by listening to Portas do Sol on repeat after Shazam-ing it in a cab in Porto).

As soon as I realized that Lisbon was a city with which I wanted to become acquainted, I asked my sister, Anna, to meet me there. We both were smitten from the start.

One of the best ideas we have ever had is to meet somewhere in January after all of the holiday hullabaloo has passed.

We put our trip to Lisbon on calendar in late September. We bought plane tickets and I made reservations for the city and for a few days of walking afterwards. Then we put our heads down, kept our busy autumn schedules with high school boys and an even busier Christmas season with college and adult kids visiting.

I tend to be a little numb after the holidays.

I think it’s as much a product of the historical holiday drama as it is any of the actual current events. I’m always trying to disrupt my usual Christmas pattern of unrealistic expectations followed by an inevitable disappointment. I have tried moving Christmas celebrations to neutral locations, pretending it’s not really December, and on other years, going all in on what everyone else in my family wants to do, but none of my strategies seem to “work.” Christmas is a time that I simultaneously dread and look forward to. Then when it has come and gone, I am both sad and relieved. And these paradoxes seem to show up every year no matter what I do.

So honestly, I wanted to just crawl in bed for a couple of days (or all of January) after the holidays were over in 2022. It was our first Christmas in our new home in Bristol. It had been cold, dark and rainy. And decidedly anti-climatic.

But instead of getting in bed, I packed my backpack and hopped a flight to Lisbon.

Again…SUCH a good idea!

I arrived a day before Anna, which I spent dodging the rain at Calouste Gulbenkian Museum, an astonishingly varied art collection amassed by one man in his lifetime, in the midst of escaping multiple wars. (Sidebar: I’m adding collecting art and then making it public for all to see to the list of things I prefer that wealthy people do with their money – right up there with building libraries, schools and theaters – instead of increasing military surveillance, shutting down entire cities for personal events, taking eight minute flights on private jets, and funding fascism.)

I often “meet” a city for the first time in the rain. Maybe it’s because I prefer cities in winter when they are less crowded, but I have wandered Paris, Siena, Edinburgh and of COURSE Bristol in the rain.

That’s why hiking boots are the BEST travel shoes.

This is especially true in Lisbon where the streets are made of marble cobblestone!

Even in hiking boots, I had a few near misses on the slick cobbles.

They are EXQUISITE though.

The cobbles were the first thing about Lisbon I noticed (after the easy metro ride from the airport).

I emerged from the underground into a square covered in these black and white cobblestones. I snapped lots of photos of all the different patterns. A city so dedicated to the artisan work that maintaining these streets requires is one that puts a high value on art.

There is even a monument to the craftspeople who maintain this extensive network of art on the ground.

In Rossio Square, the cobbles are laid in a pattern that is meant to make you feel like you’re on the waves of the sea, a nod to Portuguese maritime history.

The center of Lisbon is a flat section of squares and streets on a grid. This area is surrounded by hilly neighborhoods that rise up around its edges, and all of it is bordered by the Tejas/Tegas River that flows from the ocean.

The grid-like center of town was built in such uniform structure after an earthquake flattened the city in 1755.

We stayed at the Pessoa Hotel, which is named for one of Portugal’s most celebrated writers, Fernando Pessoa.

The hotel was located on the hill west of Rossio Square, near the Chiado district, where we enjoyed rooftop breakfasts while looking out over the city.

From the hotel, it was a short walk down cobbled steps into Lisbon’s main thoroughfares.

On the way down from our hotel each day, we would pass a window where they were serving warm Pasteis de Nata.  And of course, we would always stop for one!

The pastel de nata, immortalized by Emma Stone in Poor Things, is a Portuguese Egg Custard Tart that is available on just about every corner in Lisbon.

We ate SO many of them, not all at once, but here and there at different bakeries. I love them warm (and they were always warm at this little window), but my favorites were the ones from Belem, out by the Jerónimos Monastery where the monks started making them in the 18th century.

In the 18th century, nuns and monks were using a copious amount of egg whites to starch their habits and robes. So they invented the best treats with the leftover egg yolks, pasteis de nata being the most famous one. But we tried many other egg yolk treats and our favorites were some little cookies from the national bakery in one of the main squares of Lisbon. I returned to this bakery for a little box of treats on every trip to Lisbon.

On my second trip to Lisbon, with three friends in March 2023, I think we ate even MORE of these tarts than on my first trip. My friend Kristie LOVES them and she was keeping track of which ones were her favorites.

I still held to the best ones being from Belem, which I confirmed again a year later when there with my family. They have the flakiest crust! When I think about the warm filling topped with a little sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar, my mouth starts to water!

Honestly, you could easily book a trip to Lisbon just for the food, especially if you love seafood and fish. I think the best seafood I’ve ever eaten has been on trips to Portugal, washed down with a glass of Vinho Verde, another uniquely Portuguese experience.

Next to the Pasteis de Belem, is the Jerónimos Monastery, which Anna and I visited together.

It’s one of the main attractions in Lisbon, and it’s definitely worthy of its spot on all the Lisbon Listicles. When we came back in March, the lines to see it were so much longer, so I recommend visiting in winter when it is quiet and the line to get in is short.

Deep within the quiet cloisters of the monastery, we walked by Fernando Pessoa’s simple tomb.

It is quite the contrast to the sculptures inside the neighboring church of Santa Maria that celebrate Vasco da Gama and other “heroes” of Portugal’s colonial expansion.

The monastery and church were built with money from Vasco da Gama’s and other Portuguese explorer expeditions. If you were traveling along the river from the city to the ocean, you would pass the monastery last, and hope that your contribution to its beauty would keep you safe at sea.

The unique Portuguese Gothic architecture has elements of a ship built into it.

I do love a cloister and I found the ones in the monastery to be as beautiful as any I’ve ever seen.

I could have wandered these courtyards in silent prayer for days, but the ship ropes in the arches and other nautical elements were a reminder that the Portuguese empire was built on exploration, and exploitation. It’s a troublesome history that includes the origins of the Atlantic Slave Trade.

In fact, it was a Portuguese man (Gomes de Zurara) who came up with the construct of race. He literally invented “blackness” (and then also whiteness) in order to justify the slave trade. His writing was actually commissioned by slave-trading leaders in Portugal in the 1450s in order to justify their subjugation and trafficking of people whom they deemed lesser than themselves.

Portugal is a stark reminder that all empires DO eventually fall. Portugal’s post-empire phase was long and rough, including 45 (!!!) changes of government between 1910 and 1926, which was followed by Western Europe’s longest-lived dictatorship.

A right-winged, authoritarian regime suppressed civil liberties and political freedom until a (mostly bloodless) coup in 1974.

In 1940, under Salazar’s dictatorship, Lisbon hosted the Portuguese World Exhibition where a statue of explorers was built to celebrate 800 years of Portuguese exploration. Then in the late 50s, the regime built a larger, permanent version of the statue overlooking the river called the Monument of the Discoveries.

The explorers represented on the statue include Vasco da Gama, and even the writer Gomes de Zurara got a spot on the boat. Standing beneath the structure, I was reminded of Confederate War monuments, and how many of them were put up in the southern United States during the civil rights movement of the 20th century, actually at the same time this statue was being built. Revisionist odes to a history that could only ever have meant success for a few at the cost of the many.

Listen closely and you can almost hear Salazar whispering back in 1960:

Remember when we were great. 

Don’t pay attention the slums, to the growing poverty, to how filthy our capital city has become. Instead look at this bright shiny statue and celebrate when we were great. 

As humans, we are so easily sold a stories about the past. What fools we are.

But look at Lisbon and Portugal now: an example to all of us about how to learn from our mistakes, however slowly.

I would argue (from my extremely limited perspective) that Portugal is as great as it has ever been, and looking towards a bright future.

And it’s not just because of those shiny tiles and artisanal cobbles!

Portugal has made some WILD decisions as a nation to actually build a society that is for the many, rather than for the few.

They’ve done some research about what works well for communities, and here’s the crazy bit…someone in power actually paid attention to the researchers!

They have implemented some of the most progressive and exciting changes in the world. For example, in 2001, Portugal made the stunning decision to decriminalize drugs. All drugs are not legal, but the possession of drugs is not treated as a crime.

Instead of spending more money policing drugs, they increased funding of rehabilitation programs.

Health and healing instead of harm!

Policing drugs has been proven again and again to only increase the demand for, price of and crime around drugs. The research on decreasing drug misuse is overwhelmingly in favor of putting energy towards healing instead of punishing, but few governments have paid attention to this research.

These policies were put in place mainly because Portugal was leading Europe in deaths related to drug use and HIV. Decriminalization was complemented by the expansion of a welfare state which included resources put towards harm reduction, social reintegration and a guaranteed minimum income.

Studies I’ve read suggest that the wider health and social reforms in Portugal have helped the decriminalization policies to achieve the positive societal outcomes seen in the country today.

Of course Portugal is not perfect, but when I walk around Lisbon, I see a city (and country) that feels like it’s looking towards a future that is greater than its past.

Most of the time, I can’t fathom what it would look like to have leaders who have an imagination for a better world for the many instead of increasing the wealth of a handful of billionaires. But when I walk around Lisbon, I get a picture of what it could look like…

Independent bookstores on every corner.

Exquisite museums, including a gorgeous museum dedicated to the history of azulejos (Portuguese tiles) housed in an old convent.

The expansion and maintenance of affordable public transportation.

More spaces for tram lines than for cars.

Beautiful public spaces where people gather. Public squares and well-kept streets.

More than anything, I think being in Lisbon encourages imagination. It’s a space to dream. Maybe that is true of any beautiful city that is organized around human beings…I’ve definitely felt that way in Amsterdam watching bikes and in Paris as they have increased green space and bike lanes radically there in the last ten years.

But somehow it feels even more true to me that today, Lisbon is a place of possibility for dreamers.

And so after leaving a second time, I started to dream about bringing my whole family back there.

On New Year’s Eve in 2024, Taido and I were celebrating 30 years of marriage. It seemed like a great excuse to gather in Lisbon. I put the word out that all I wanted for my anniversary (and Christmas that year) was for my family – whoever wanted to – to join Taido and me in Lisbon.

I rented an apartment in the Alfama, the historic district east of the city center and invited everyone to make their requests about our time there together.

If I had to choose one theme for my third trip to Lisbon, it would have to be food, and maybe even specifically, coffee!

We wandered the beautiful streets together, but in between walks, we ate a lot. And we drank so much coffee.

We haunted old cafes like A Brasilieira and new ones from a list my son Ben made.

One of our favorites was the Copenhagen Coffee Lab, which has several locations around Lisbon.

In addition to coffee, they do brunch and matchas.

Almost every day, at least some of our group would make a stop in one of these coffee spots.

And we brought their bread back to the apartment by the loaf to have with soup and breakfast. In fact, for two months after this trip, I tested recipes until I had perfected my own version of their dark rye Danish bread, which I have been making ever since. It’s now a Chino House staple!

Between coffees, we visited several museums, wandered from one miradouro (hill top viewpoints) to the next and ate all the seafood!

When you’re a group of this size, someone is always hungry.

Often my only photo from a meal would be a pile of empty plates after we devoured every bite.

In addition to Taido and me, our Lisbon crew was our three of our kids (Ben, Mary Polly and Simon), my sister, and my niece and her partner who popped over from Dublin.

We ended up being in two apartments down the street from each other, but we would host meals and play cards at night in ours.

Early in the morning, Taido and Anna would go for a run as the sun came up along the river. Each day one or two kids would wake up to go with them. And sometimes I went and walked. We would get to where a lot of the clubs were located, and folks would still be lined up outside to get in at 7am. It amazed me every time.

Lisbon is definitely a city that doesn’t sleep, although the main squares were much quieter on those early morning walks. In the afternoons the same squares were packed with people.

We enjoyed being in Lisbon in time to catch some of the holiday vibe after Christmas.

I asked everyone later what their favorite things were about Lisbon, and again, the food was a recurring highlight. One group did a food tour that I booked but opted out of myself (since I’m a vegetarian) and they loved all the spots they hit on the tour.

When Ben got home, he recreated some Mozambican sandwiches they had that their guide told them was everyone’s hangover cure in Lisbon.

We also took the kids back to some of the places Anna and I had loved so much. Of course we went to Honest Greens, which we’d discovered first in Porto.

But some other favorites included Chapito a Mesa for seafood, Cantinho do Avillez for shared plates, and the rooftop bar at the top of Pollux for drinks with a view.

We made lots of meals at the apartment. We couldn’t believe the seafood offerings at the local supermarkets.

And we had pizza one day, because Anna and I had found a collection of divine restaurants inspired by Italy (and Portugal and Nepal!) on our first trip to Lisbon.

We had our anniversary dinner at Decadente, now called The Gandaia Club, which was divine!

And then we walked down to the river just before midnight to see the New Year’s Eve fireworks. It’s not often that I stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve (also our anniversary), but being along the riverfront with the masses for the fireworks going off above the city AND out on the river was worth being out past my bedtime for sure.

Even though we had to bundle up a bit, it was so fun to be outside and often in the sun in January.

One evening some of us walked up to a sunset bar with books and cards to see the sun go down from above the city.

We warmed up every time we went uphill, which is often in Lisbon.

A lot of the days we would split up into smaller groups depending on who was interested in what, but one morning we all did a bike tour together that was so fun.

We rode along the river all the way to Belem, and our guide stopped along the way to tell us about different parts of the city.

We rode to the top of the architecture and technology museum, which the boys ended up coming back to the next day.

And we visited the LX Factory which is an old textile factory that has now been turned into a hub for artists, restaurants and shops.

We rode to have the Pasteis de Belem and again to the problematic Monument of the Discoveries, and then we rode all the way back. It was the longest I’ve biked in a little while and I definitely felt it.

I love doing a bike tour of a city, but then I’m glad to be back on my two feet again.

Walking the Lisbon city streets is how I spent my first hours there in 2023, and we ended our trip in 2025 doing much the same.

After a week in Lisbon, we had seen what we wanted to see, so we walked the Alfama neighborhood, had our favorite coffees one more time, and said goodbye.

Hopefully it’s not the last time I’ll be in Lisbon. I feel sure I’ll be back for another walk on the Rota Vicentina, but I don’t know that I’ll ever have a whole week in Lisbon again so I’m recording these memories now to treasure later.

I’m so grateful to everyone who came to Lisbon to help make my Lisbon family travel dreams come true.

 \

PS. If you go to Lisbon, please write and tell me how much you love it. And also, here’s my Lisbon Google map with all my saved spots, as well as a playlist for Wandering Lisboa. 

Annnnd, if you enjoy my rambling posts about places I visit and walk, you can subscribe to get them straight to your inbox right here. 

The post Snapshots of Lisbon appeared first on Alison Chino.

I can’t remember when I first started wanting to visit Provence.

It might have been in college when we watched La Gloire de Mon Pere in French class.

Or maybe it was earlier, when my grandmother introduced me to Vincent Van Gogh through paintings of his sunflowers. I don’t know when I learned that Van Gogh loved painting in the south of France because of the light, but I wanted to follow in his footsteps to see where he painted that Starry Starry Night.

For sure a seed was planted when I read Peter Mayle’s books about Provence in the 90s. I remembered reading his descriptions of the sunshine in southern France during dark, cold Chicago winters.

However, in my own trip planning, I had never made getting to Provence a priority, so when an offer came through to lead a slow, springtime wander through Provence with Ramble Worldwide, I jumped at the chance.

I took the train from Bristol to London, then the Eurostar to Paris, a taxi across Paris and then a final train to Avignon to lead a group of ladies between the ages of 60 and 86 around Provence.

I had a couple of days to get my bearings before I took the train back to Paris to meet the group, so even though I didn’t have time to do everything on our itinerary ahead of time, I was familiar with two of the main towns (Avignon and Arles) before the official trip began.

I spent most of my prep time wandering streets to learn my way around, checking train and bus schedules and doing a couple of the walks that we would do together later in the week. Then I took the train back to Paris to meet the sweetest group of ladies who would be my travel companions for the week.

It was evening in Avignon by the time we made it back with the group, but I offered to lead a little orientation walk after dinner just to the center square and back. Sometimes it just feels good to get your bearings, to put your feet to the ground after a full day of sitting on trains. Plus an evening walk always seems to make sleep come a little easier, especially after a rich French meal.

I knew immediately that I was going to love this group when, as we walked through the streets of Avignon, one lady told a story about hopping on a sailboat at the spur of the moment to be a fourth crew member for a trip around the world and another reminisced about dancing in this same square in Avignon over 50 years before, her face lit up with delight at the memory, like it was yesterday.

The next day we wandered the streets of Avignon in the daylight and met up with a guide who told us the papal history of the town.

Even though we kept our pace to what I like to call “a wander,” these spry ladies walked all day long for seven days straight.

They soaked up the history like it was their first cobblestoned town, which of course, it was not.

I am always in awe of folks who are still learning all the way through life, asking questions, looking for more to understand about the world.

After a quick lunch in town, we met a different guide in the afternoon for a trip to a Châteauneuf-du-Pape vineyard.

In the shade of the olive trees, our guide Nicolas told us about how these vines, which are shorter than most I’ve seen, send their roots down deep. And the rocks hold the warmth from the sun that the grapes need. These vines can be over 100 years old. When one dies and the vineyard owner plants a new vine, they are planting a vine for their grandchildren. Running a vineyard is definitely a job for someone who is willing to plan well into the future, and even to imagine a future for when they will no longer be around.

After our vineyard walk, we got to taste some of these full-bodied wines. Then we all might have dozed off on the short ride back to our hotel.

On Day 2 of our time in Provence, we walked the top of the medieval walls that go all the way around the village of Aigues-Mortes.

The walls are perfectly preserved.

In one direction, you can look out into the salt marshes where the famous fleur de sel de Carmague is hand-raked and harvested. (It was for sale everywhere we went, so I definitely brought some home in my suitcase.)

After walking the circumference of the whole village, observing the narrow streets from the bird’s eye perch of the medieval protective fortress, we descended some tower steps and made our way to the center square.

The four edges of the square were lined with cafes and table spilling out into the streets. Children were running around a fountain in the middle of the square. A man played an accordion on one side of the fountain and in front of him, a little girl danced to the music.

As we took in the scene, I looked over at my travel companions and said, I think we might be in France.
We laughed, knowing that imagining moments like this exact one was what drew us to Provence.
All too soon, it was time for us to finish our coffees and head off to the next stop on our tour of Les Plus Beaux Villages de France.
As I got up reluctantly, I thought to myself,

Sometimes I think I’ve traveled halfway around the world to live just so I can sit in squares.

(Maybe I should start doing tours that revolve around sitting in squares?)

We left Aigues-Mortes to go for a walk in a bird conservatory where we saw about 1 million flamingos, after which we visited the Black Madonna in Saintes-Marie-sur-la-Mer, followed by ice creams by the sea, naturally.

Every evening, we ate dinner together at our gorgeous hotel or at one of the local restaurants in Avignon.

Our meals were gorgeous every night, and our desserts even prettier.

The food, a highlight of any trip to France for sure, fueled us through our days of wandering.

Across the Rhone River from Avignon is Villeneuve, a small, fortified medieval town. It served as sort of a suburb for cardinals during the papal era of Avignon.

At the top of the town is a former Benedictine abbey surrounded by the most lovely gardens.

A few of us spent a free afternoon roaming the gardens before going back to Avignon for a late lunch.

Next time I visit the gardens, I’ll bring a picnic lunch as there are charming spots around every corner to enjoy lunch outside.

For many of us, these few hours in the Saint André Abbey gardens were the highlight of the whole trip.

Slow days full of sunshine will live strong in my memory of what it’s like to be in Provence.

I didn’t see the classic lavender fields of summer, but I’ll take spring in Provence any day.

Our next full day was market-themed, another classic French village staple.

Besides salt, we consumed many buckets and bags of fresh French strawberries.

As I wandered markets, I dreamed about coming back and staying in a cottage with a little kitchen to which I could bring a market basket of goodies home to prepare a meal.

From the market town of St-Remy-de-Provence, we made a little pilgrimage to the psychiatric hospital where Van Gogh stayed after his mental breakdown.

The path to the hospital is lined with little markers bearing Van Gogh’s signature, so you can easily find your way.

In the hospital, you can see the bedroom he painted several times. Van Gogh did over 150 paintings during his time in St Remy. He seemed to thrive in the quiet time away from the world.

The next village we visited was Les Baux-de-Provence, a name from which the word bauxite comes as it was mined from these hills.

We did a loop walk around the outskirts of the village at the base of the rock on which it is built, before wandering into the pretty village streets.

Even if my ladies were a bit tired from the previous day, they didn’t want to miss anything so they opted for the extra loop around.

I was amazed at how fit my group was, and how I had to work to keep up with them as we went from village to village.

We always managed to find somewhere to have a rest with a treat though, an ice cream or a drink.

Usually with a view!

After Les Baux, we were off to see some famous windmills, one of which an author (Alphonse Daudet) actually used as a residence in order to have a quiet place to write.

We felt like it was a fairly extreme move just for a little quiet.

Next stop, Roussillon, a village that falls within the national park of the Luberon and is known for its red buildings made from the ochre hills nearby.

We walked the red and orange hills before visiting the village and they reminded me of hills I’ve seen in Colorado or Utah.

The village was gorgeous, and I think my picnic and pastries from there might have been the best I had all week.

A recurring theme of our trip, since we visited around three villages each day, was that we all wished we could have more time in each village.

Every place we stopped seemed like somewhere you could rent a little room for a long while and be happy in.

But this was especially true of Roussillon!

Between Rousillon and Sorgues, we made a quick stop to see Gordes, the village on the a hill that was made famous by Peter Mayle. One of the funniest stories from the week was that a lady in our group thought we were going to get to meet Peter Mayle, so she was very disappointed to hear that he had been dead for several years.

We ended this day with walking along the Sorgue River.

We had a picnic lunch along the way and made it to see the source of the river, walking past lots of places where it would have been lovely to stop for lunch.

But our schedule always called for a picnic, which was fine because our dinners were so elaborate.

Most days I had a baguette for lunch filled with roasted vegetables, goat cheese, lettuce and tomatoes.

We ended our week with a train trip to Arles, another placed Van Gogh lived in the south of France.

It’s a beautiful town with lots of original Roman ruins still in tact, including an amphitheater that is still used today.

Outside the walls of the old town of Arles is Les Alyscamps, an old Roman necropolis.

Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gauguin chose the Alyscamps as the first place they painted side by side in Arles. One of the paintings from that day was sold in 2015 for over $66 million.

As we walked around Arles, I could understand why Van Gogh had chosen it as a place to live and work.

Arles was a perfect ending to a delightful week in Provence.

Soon it was time to pack our bags and hop an early train back to Paris and then to London, where we were met with rain. We all went home longing for the slow days of wandering in Provence, but we were grateful for our memories in the sun!

The post Snapshots of Provence appeared first on Alison Chino.

I’m returning to Porto in 2026 to walk a section of the Portuguese Camino with friends.

I’m encouraging my friends to add on days to visit Porto before we start walking, so I’ve put this collection of photos together to serve as a list of recommendations for visiting this delightful city.

It’s been four years since my first trip to Porto, marking the beginning of my love affair with Portugal. I returned after walking the Portuguese Camino to Portugal to visit Lisbon and to walk the Rota Vicentina. I returned again to do more of the coastal fishing trail and then I went back to Porto with my sister after another Camino. Last year I begged my whole family to meet me in Lisbon to celebrate New Year’s and a big wedding anniversary.

I’m scheming to go back to Portugal at least once, but maybe a twice in 2026, so as I plan, I am also returning to the beginning.

My first steps into Portugal were in June of 2022. I was just passing through Porto, it was the beginning of my next Camino.

But Porto was swoon-worthy before I ever even spotted the colorful buildings piled up like building blocks along the river.

I fell in love with Porto at the airport, because I am a sucker for a town with an easy, efficient and affordable transit system.

It might sound silly, but when a city provides an option to hop on a metro line for around 2 euros right outside of the airport, the town has already gone a long way towards winning over my vagabond heart. This is why I’ll go way out of my way to never fly into Milan, but will fly into Pisa or Florence instead, even if it costs more. Cities that offer easy transport links from their airports will always top my travel list. (Take note, Bristol! Do better.)

Everyone has their preferred way of getting to know a city. Some folks might chat to their host or a local driver. My sister tends to discover a place through food. I have another friend who always does a walking tour on the first day she’s in town as a way to get to know a place.

But I love to just walk around aimlessly. I drop off my stuff where I’m staying and then I walk outside without an agenda and start wandering. I suppose you could say I am lost since I have no idea where I am. But I’m not lost, I’m just finding my way.

In Porto, eventually I ran into the Douro River. And since the southernmost part of town is bordered by the river, I began to learn where places were in relation to the water.

In Porto, you can walk west along the river front all the way out to the sea, or you can walk east and climb the small cobbled roads and stairs that overlook the river and city.

You can also climb up the bridge and walk across the river to the neighboring town of  Vila Nova de Gaia, where all old the Port Houses are. You can wander up and down both sides of the river for a long time, until your legs are so tired, you have to stop and try what will be come your new favorite drink, A Porto Tonico. Which is port and tonic instead of gin and tonic.

The first things I noticed in Portugal were the cobbled streets and the building tiles. It feels like being in an open air museum, an outdoor gallery full of detail and color.

Tiles seem so much brighter than paint, and they sparkle in the sunshine. And in the rain.

Every time I turned a corner, there was another bright color.

And sometimes I would stop and look at the tiles up close, wondering at their texture and detailed designs.

Who made all these?

I must be in a city filled with artists.

On that first visit to Porto, I really only had a day to wander around. In all honestly, I had only come to Porto to walk away from it.

I was meeting four friends to walk north to Santiago from Porto, to discover a new trail.

We met up for dinner the night before leaving on our walk.

Then the next morning we made our way to the cathedral to officially begin our Camino.

We got our pilgrims’ passports from the cathedral, getting our first stamp and then finding the first Camino marker outside the church.

And then we were off. Instead of taking the traditional Camino out of Porto, we walked along the Douro River out to the sea.

We planned to walk for a couple of days along the coastline before making our way inland to the historical route. Because it was a warm June, we figured we would enjoy having the sea breeze at our backs for the start of our journey.

But it was good for us that we’d only planned for a couple of days along the sea, because our progress was so slow due to the siren call of lounge chairs and beach bars along the way.

Shall we stop for another drink? Another moment in the sun?

Yes, of course we should!

We loved our two sea days at the beginning of our Camino and I remembered them so fondly that I knew I wanted to do the river walk out to the sea again if I ever returned to Porto!

Exactly two years later I returned to Porto.

Only this time instead of coming to walk away, I arrived by bus with my sister after walking the Camino through Spain with our kids.

We sent them all home after a wild time of treating blisters, sleeping on top of each other and finally reaching the cathedral square in Santiago.

We hoped we had helped them make memories that they would later appreciate, and now we were ready for a few days on our own.

Unfortunately, our welcome into Porto began with a climb up about 300 stairs to a room I’d booked for its tiny glimpse of the river.

Our room with a view was very small, and a bit sweltering in the June heat, but thankfully, we hadn’t planned to spend too much time in it.

We started our visit in Porto with brunch, something we did every day actually. We found a lot of breakfast and coffee spots we loved in Porto: Esquires, Do Norté Cafe and Honest Greens were our favorites.

On our first morning, we found that we were both more tired than we realized but pushed through our itinerary of climbing to the top of the Clérigos Tower for the 360 degree views of Porto.

I love to get an aerial view of a city. It sort of helps me get my bearings a little better.

I realized from the tower that on my last visit to Porto, I had barely scratched the surface. There was so much more to see.

The 18th century church and tower is now a museum and historical site. The gorgeous chapel hosts events and concerts and was for sure worth visiting. But besides the view from the tower, my favorite find at Clérigos was a pieta I came across in the museum.

I’ve been collecting pietas since seeing my first one in Italy over 20 years ago. There is something about this moment that Mary holds the sacrificed Christ in her arms that always speaks to me. I have tried to understand what it is about these paintings and sculptures that cracks something open in my heart every time. I think it has to do with the relationship between a mother and her son. But more than that, it’s the way a mother has the ability to hold all her children’s suffering in her heart, often without being broken or even hardened by it. Mary’s deep grief is all of ours. It’s the grief for her son having to die and it’s the grief for a world in which a son has to die.

It’s so random. I don’t even know who the artist is, but I can be walking through any art collection and a pieta will always draw my attention, standing out from every other piece.

After some more city wandering, including visiting the newly renovated Porto Market, we decided (not unusually) that we needed some green space, so we headed to the Parque e Jardim da Fundação Serralves.

This space also has a museum and restaurant, but we mainly hung out in the bright sunshine and under the shady trees outside.

We actually fell asleep on some benches in one of the treetop boardwalks.

Though it was further outside of the city center that we realized, we enjoyed our time Serralves Parque. Afterwards, Anna headed back to the hotel for a nap and I walked a little more.

We met back up for dinner across the river from Porto, and then caught the sunset as we walked home across the bridge.

The rest of our five days in Porto were spent in a similar rhythm.

Wake up and walk to find breakfast or brunch somewhere fun.

Walk to something else on our list to see.

Then wander off to find a garden or somewhere to sit in the sun.

We spent one afternoon in the gardens behind Casa São Roque after visiting the house and exhibition.

The gardens are free to visit and behind the gardens is an extensive forest park and maze. (We enjoyed the gardens more than the house and art exhibition but if you wander all the way out there, you might as well visit both.)

Another day I talked Anna into walking the Douro river along the first part of the Camino, just to see the sea again.

We spent the whole afternoon in beach chairs after wandering out to the sea.

Then Anna found a fancy restaurant with a female chef nearby that she wanted to try, InDiferente. We were slightly underdressed in our hiking boots, trail shorts and merino shirts, but the kind host hid our backpacks in the back so we looked a little less scraggly. We made up for our lack of fashion with our enthusiasm for each exquisite dish on the seafood-themed tasting menu.

Traveling with my sister always involves finding great food. In addition to being a restaurant owner and fabulous cook, she has a nose for picking out the best item on a menu or the most special pastry in the case.

Because of Anna, I will remember many delightful food spots in Porto: breakfast spots and restaurants, but also the food hall and the long market in the train station that has stalls from many famous Portuguese restaurants.

When I got home from Porto, I tired to re-create several of the salads we had at Honest Greens.

After days of walking around and feeding ourselves beautiful scenes and food, we had settled back into ourselves.

Whenever I finish a Camino or any long-distance walk, I wake up the next day and feel like I should still be walking. I miss the trail days, both how they are predictable in their rhythm and unpredictable in what you will find along the way. I think this feeling is not uncommon among walkers. The let-down after it’s over is part of the journey.

So it takes a little while to settle back into one place, to find myself ready to just be, and not need to be constantly in motion.

Though we were on the move in Porto, we were just as often being still. Reading or talking or drinking tea.

And sleeping. Lots of sleeping.

Anna had an early flight on our last day in Porto, so I sent her off to the airport, hopefully rested and ready to go back to her busy life.

I had an evening flight so after checking out, I revisited a few of our favorite Porto spots.

Instead of doing something new, I went back for one more salad and kombucha at Honest Greens.

One more wander along the Douro River.

One more hour in the Botanical Garden, watching the peacocks and children.

Then it was time for my flight and a goodbye to the Camino and to Portugal.

Until next time.

Here is my Google Maps list of Porto in case you find yourself wandering along the Douro River sometime soon.  Oh and here’s my Wandering Lisboa playlist which is also a great accompaniment to a walk around Porto. 

The post Snapshots of Porto appeared first on Alison Chino.

Easter Holidays in Snowdonia National Park

Probably one of the best memories of the year was the four nights Taido, Simon and I spent over the Easter Holidays last spring in Snowdonia.

Snowdonia is in Northern Wales. I’ve mentioned that we can hop over the Bristol Channel and go hiking in Wales in just over an hour from our house, but Snowdonia is a good bit further. It’s also more mountainous. We hadn’t ventured that far north yet into Wales so we were excited to get up that way and do some hiking during the school break.

Over four days of hiking, we stayed in 2 different YHAs (youth hostels). We usually just get a four bunk room and then make our meals out of the community kitchen. It’s rustic but on a hiking trip we are not there except to eat and sleep so it works. The beds are comfy and reasonably priced.

Our first full day in Snowdonia was supposed to have the best weather so we decided we would go ahead and tackle our biggest hike that day. At 3560 feet, Mt Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa) is the highest mountain in Wales (and England), so we set out early in the morning to get to the top.

There are several routes up Snowdon, and you can even go up by train for part of the year. We took the Miner’s Track that begins just across the street from the Snowdon Pen-Y-Pass Hostel.

I cannot imagine a more beautiful trail. You ascend gradually for a long time through a valley that circles a mountain lake.

The path is rocky and kind of bare. Or at least, in early spring there was very little vegetation.

Parts of it felt like what I imagine it would be like to walk on the moon. There are bits of Northwest Scotland that feel this way to me.

After circling the lake, you begin to climb in earnest. The path gets very steep.

We zigzagged back and forth up this hill for a long time before reaching a ridge path that took us the rest of the way up the mountain. Several paths converged on the ridge so there were quite a lot of folks at the top.

They say on a busy summer day that you have to queue to get your photo on the tip top of the mountain but it wasn’t that busy for us in April.

From the top you could see the whole way we had walked below. The path along the ridge and the lake we had walked along spread out before us like you could almost touch them or trace them with your finger.

On the way back down, we retraced our steps for the first part and then took a different trail that stayed high above the lake.

We had our lunch sitting above the lake and watching folks far down below have a swim!

The descent always takes longer than I think it’s going to. We had made really good time climbing up but I was tired and the last part of the way down was steep and hard on my knees. I relied heavily on my trekking poles the whole time.

Eventually we made it back to Pen-Y-Pass and to celebration drinks at the hostel around 3pm.

The next day we did a hike with not quite as much climbing to give my knees a rest. The weather stayed pretty for most of the day, and I relished the sunshine.

The national animal of Wales is the dragon, and I love spotting all the dragons when I am in Wales.

This ornately carved dragon bench was in the middle of the path as we walked.

We hiked another valley on the other side of Mt Snowdon, and again I was reminded of hikes from our Scotland years.

I’d like to come back to Snowdonia in the summer when the heather is in bloom.

And when the new ferns are all grown in.

Again we had our picnic lunch out on the hills, but we visited the little town of Beddgelert for a wander (more dragon spotting) and a drink by the river

We moved to a different youth hostel that night in order to hike in another area of Snowdon. The hostel was only about 20 minutes up the road but we woke the next morning to a whole new valley and set of hills.

The wet spring weather we had been expecting for our whole trip arrived, but we were prepared with our rain trousers and rain coats so we headed out to explore in the mist.

The YHA here in Ogwen Valley is called Idwal Cottage and it’s one of the oldest youth hostels in Wales. We found it to be super cozy and charming, especially after the hustle and bustle of the bigger one on Pen-Y-Pass.

The hiking right out the door of Idwal Cottage was just beautiful.

We climbed in the rain and the wind on and off all morning, but the mist cleared away enough for us to get some gorgeous views down the valley.

We were all smitten with Snowdonia after our few days there and I wasn’t quite ready to leave. The sun came back out as we drove home, so we stopped and did one more hike, ending at a pub to cap off our adventure.

Because how could we not stop at a place called The Green Dragon?

We only wished the rest of the Chinos had been there with us to sing:

You can drink your fancy ales,
You can drink them by the flagon,
But the only brew for the brave and true…
..Comes from the Green Dragon!

The post Snapshots of Snowdonia appeared first on Alison Chino.

2022 has already been an amazing year of walking!

In addition to the gorgeous walks we do around here on the weekends, I have walked The Cotswold Way in England and The Portuguese Camino in Portugal and Spain!

And the year of walking is not over yet. Next week we are heading to Switzerland to do the Via Alpina and in September, I’m leading a circular walk in the Lake District.

Even though I’ll be walking this week in the Alps, in this space I am sharing my journey along The Cotswold Way from when Kandace and I walked it together back at the beginning of May.

I’ve been reliving it this past month as I’ve written these posts and I’m excited to share them with you. Starting today, they will be published every day for seven days, one day for each day of the walk. I hope you enjoy reading about it and even more than that, I hope it makes you want to go for a walk!

Getting outside continues to be the best way I know of to feel better, both about myself and the world around me.

So cheers to walking!

XOXO
Alison

The Cotswold Way

110 Miles from Chipping Campden to Bath:

Day 1 Chipping Campden to Stanton (10 miles)

So this was our fifth time walking together. 6th if you count when we walked virtually together during the pandemic.

Once we finished the Cotswold Way we had walked over 500 miles together.

So now we are a bit like an old married couple.

Kandace knows I can’t have caffeine or sugar after 2pm,

and I know that she can drink a pint at lunch and still outpace me for the rest of the afternoon.

She will carry more stuff than she needs and I’ll end up being without something I have to buy a sub-standard version of in a tiny shop.

Walking together is familiar. Not at all stressful.

A favorite pair of slippers that you pop on at the end of the day and sigh with relief.

Only instead of slippers, they are hiking boots

Kandace and I both work freelance jobs from home, which means we have the flexibility to work at all hours of the day and to be available to our clients whenever they need us, including weekends and holidays.

That flexibility also means we can schedule walking trips and do work ahead of time that frees us to get out of town.

So frequently we find ourselves texting back and forth that it’s time to put another walk on the calendar.

We both enjoy the countdown to the walk. (Two weeks until I turn my out of office reply on!)

We love getting gear sorted and prepped. (Are you bringing rain pants this time? I bought new après-hike shoes!)

I enjoy the obsessive planning of our itinerary, reading guidebooks, maps and websites to find the perfect places to stop, sleep and eat.

And I go a bit crazy for the challenge of sorting an overwhelming number of miles into manageable day hikes, breaking up a long stretch of trail into sections, trying to accurately anticipate how much I can push myself each day.

I bought a guidebook for The Cotswold Way while I was still living in Illinois, before I had even moved to England! I knew I would just have to box it up for the move, but I was ready to get started on my research.

When the book arrived, I skimmed the sections and elevation to figure out that we could probably walk it in about a week. I imagined what places with names like Chipping Campden and Cleeve Hill would look like. My fascination with the Cotswolds (and its adorably named towns) loomed large for me in the weeks and months leading up to our move.

I googled images and made copious notes. Then I packed away my guidebook along with all my other books to be moved across the ocean and rediscovered in a new place and time.

At some point in late January, I texted Kandace:

Want to come walk the English countryside with me? You stay in pubs almost every night!

By early February, she had her flight booked.

Book those pubs! she texted back.

When winter melted away and spring arrived for us both, we’d be walking together again.

Only the first night we didn’t stay in a pub. We stayed in a darling little shepherd’s hut in someone’s back garden.

We set out on a bright Sunday morning from Chipping Campden. Taido and Simon hiked our first six miles with us to Broadway. We had perfect weather. England welcomed Kandace with lush green fields full of sheep.

It’s so fun to me to see someone else take in these country scenes for the first time. Because I never tire of rock walls, yellow flowers, baby lambs and country cottages, I love for someone else to share in my enthusiasm.

We started our walk with a gentle climb to a tower, a folly actually, which is an ornamental building or something that was built just for aesthetics. (Who knew such a thing existed?)

Then we descended into the charming village of Broadway for a pub lunch at The Horse and Hound.

(Just like the magazine in Notting Hill!)

After lunch, we said goodbye to Taido and Simon, who walked back to Chipping Campden to drive home, and we headed south a few more miles to Stanton, a tiny picturesque hamlet.

We quickly found the cottage labeled The Old Post House and were met by our hosts there, who have set up two rooms for walkers in their back garden, each one complete with twin beds, a tiny kitchen, armchairs and a bathroom. One is The Garden Room and the other room is The Shepherd’s Hut, where we stayed.

We sat outside in the back garden with their dogs, reading and napping before having a picnic dinner and going to bed.

The adventure had begun.

Here we were on our first night after walking past yellow rapeseed fields and baby lambs snuggled with their mamas.

It was exactly as I had imagined it months ago – which things seldom are – but the predictability of how lovely it is to walk from village to village in the UK is precisely what I love about it.

And I am not alone. National Trails in the UK receive 83 million visits every year, and The Cotswold Trail alone attracts 150,000 walkers every year.

May is one of the most popular months on these trails and it’s not hard to understand why. The light is hanging on past 9pm and the rain is not as cold or as settled in. We had lots of sunshine, and were even down to our t-shirts and shorts on some days.

I fell asleep proud that so far the Cotswolds were living up to my vision of them, grateful that I had not oversold their quaint whimsy to Kandace.

We were both ready for more.

The post The Cotswold Way: Day 1 from Chipping Campden to Stanton appeared first on Alison Chino.

Walking the Jurassic Coast from Lyme Regis to Exmouth

on the South West Coastal Path in England

Recently we had the happy occurrence of my brother and nephew coming to visit while Taido and Simon were off for Easter Holidays. Visitors don’t always coincide with time off from school for the rest of us, so it worked out beautifully that we could all take off for a few days and head south of Bristol to the Jurassic Coast.

Being an island, Great Britain has a lot of coastline. And you can walk most of it. We did lots of coastal walking when we lived in Scotland and even though we were often nearly blown off the cliffs by the wind, it was some of the most beautiful hiking I’ve done.

But before this trip, we hadn’t explored the southern coast of England at all. I’ve earmarked the South West Coastal Path as a walk I want to do, but the whole path is 630 miles.

So for my brother’s visit I researched sections that were just south of us and we picked a 30-mile stretch to walk over three days.

We woke up early on a Thursday morning in April and caught a bus to the train station, and then a train to Axminster. From there, I had a cab booked to take us to Lyme Regis, which is right on the coast.

Lyme Regis was bustling when we arrived. We were making our trek over the Easter Holidays here in England so all the coastal towns we wandered through were fairly busy.

We quickly grabbed some early lunch and coffee and then headed off down the beach and followed a the trail markings into the woods. We walked through woodland trails that climbed up and down for most of the afternoon. I was surprised that for much of this section, we couldn’t see the sea at all. We seemed to be sort of between the sea and the cliffs above us, so we caught glimpses of the limestone through the trees.

Also the fog settled in heavily, so we might have been able to see out into the water but the view was shrouded anyway.

For the whole coastal trail, there was a lot of climbing and then descending. We would get high above the coastline and then descend all the way down to pebble beaches before climbing up again on the next section. I might not have prepared my crew for all the climbing, but they were troopers!

Simon and my nephew, Wilson, stayed well ahead of us for the whole walk. And Taido took turns between catching up with them and waiting for Peter and me. Whenever we were all back together, I would try to snap a quick photo before the boys ran off ahead of us again.

Around 4:30pm, we reached the town of Seaton, another sea town where folks were hanging out on the pebble beach, even in the fog. We stopped long enough in Seaton to eat the best blueberry ice cream I’ve ever tasted, and then we were climbing again up the hill.

We had just another hour or so to get to Beer, and then maybe a bit longer to walk from the coastline in Beer up to the YHA where we were staying. Everyone was moaning for the last little bit, but we celebrated with drinks at the YHA bar when we arrived.

Then we quickly showered and walked back into town for a lovely celebration dinner. I had a veggie pizza, which I devoured. And Peter, Wilson and Simon all had seafood linguine. Taido got some other kind of fish. Everything tasted amazing. After we’d all finished our meal, Taido looked at the boys and decided to order them a pizza. After all the miles of walking, they probably could have eaten two more pizzas. Good decision.

We wandered back to our bunk room and crawled into bed with full bellies and tired legs.

The next morning Peter and I woke up first so we got out and going ahead of the faster hikers. It was a gorgeous morning in Beer and we were excited that we were going to be able to see all the cliffs and coastlines that had been covered in fog the previous day.

We grabbed coffee, fruit and pastries out of the only open shop before getting on our way.

Every step of this day was drop dead gorgeous. I kept stopping to take pictures and to make profound statements like…”COME ON!!! Can you even believe??”

This sweeping scenery is what I had come for.

It was straight out of a Thomas Hardy novel, and I was gobsmacked by the beauty of it.

The boys soon caught up with us. They stopped for long enough to greet us and get a photo and then on they went, practically running ahead of us.

We stayed high for much of the morning so we could see all that we had walked the day before and where we were headed now.

As the morning wore on, we could see fog settling in up ahead but we seemed to be pushing it further away from us as we walked. We could still see well in almost every direction, a total contrast to the previous day.

A little before 10, we followed a steep descent into Branscombe.

The path looked like it was dropping off a cliff, but really it was just a steep staircase down to the water.

There was a tea shop right by the water in Branscombe. Peter and I had tea and scones with clotted cream of course.

The boys had milkshakes and muffins.

After our rest stop we climbed back up from Branscombe to the cliff tops.

Once we got up to the top, we stayed high for a longer stretch, which was lovely.

The fog came and went, but never entirely blocked our view of the sea.

In the afternoon we walked inland just a bit through another village and then just before we reached our destination of Sidmouth, we entered a forest.

When we emerged, we could see Sidmouth just below us. We were all excited to get to town so much earlier than we had the day before.

Sidmouth is another darling holiday coastal town.

We stayed (and ate) at Duke’s Inn right on the water (an upgrade from our hostel the night before). Since we reached Sidmouth in the early afternoon, we had plenty of time to explore and enjoy the area.

We all said we’d love to return to Sidmouth and spend more time there one day.

It was all blue sky when we walked out the next morning for Day 3 of walking, the final stretch from Sidmouth to Exmouth.

At the edge of town, the walkway runs along these gorgeous red cliffs. It was so striking on such a blue sky day.

All these cliffs are part of why this whole coastline is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The temperature had not even hit 50 degrees F yet and folks were swimming in the sea!

Above the red cliffs, there were houses or fortresses where people actually live and stay in this cutie town.

From the beach area, we began to climb again, of course.

Soon we were high above the sea again and looking back at Sidmouth.

I spent a moment trying to decide which day was the most beautiful walking, but really all three were amazing in their own ways.

As we walked over the green grassy-topped cliff, I decided I could happily turn around at the end and do the whole route again.

We pushed on along the trail, stopping every so often to rest.

Then we were off to another small beach area.

All along this trail, you can see an area way ahead that you know you will be descending down to, and then it gets closer and closer.

Eventually, the path descends down to the sea. Sometimes it carries on along a boardwalk and sometimes you walk right on the beach.

But before you know it, you are walking up the other side of it and turning back to catch the view of all you just walked.

Quickly it gets further and further behind you.

And then you carry on along the cliff top until you reach the next beach area or resort village.

I marked these spots out on my map and counted out hours we would be walking by estimating when we would get to each one.

I got to where I loved the rhythm of this trail, even with all the ups and downs.

I loved watching where I was walking to. The clear way forward.

The third day had longer flat stretches on top where I could spot Simon and Wilson far ahead of us.

When they reached a place where a river was flowing into the sea, and the trail was going to take us inland a couple of miles in order to cross it, they found a spot further in the opposite direction (towards the sea) where we could wade across.

Determined to save walking a couple of miles, we all stripped down to underpants and waded across the freezing water.

Then we debated whether it was worth it or not as we walked along the pebble beach towards the next part of the trail.

Once Exmouth came into view, everyone walked faster, ready to be at the end. I was a little sad our walk was almost over, but also so grateful for the time together walking.

We reached the beach at Exmouth in the afternoon, so after getting ice cream from a cart on the boardwalk, we went and found a pub to hang out in for a while before catching our train back to Bristol.

Everyone agreed that it was a great three days and that we’d had the best views and the best possible weather for our spring adventure together!

I’m always thankful when someone I love is willing to come for a walk with me!

What a gift to have hours and hours to talk with my brother as we walked behind our boys! I can’t wait to do it again!

Here was our itinerary for if you want to walk this beautiful coastline:

Day 1: Lyme Regis to Beer (8 miles)

Day 2: Beer to Sidmouth (8.5 miles)

Day 3: Sidmouth to Exmouth (13 miles)

The post A Walk on the South West Coastal Path appeared first on Alison Chino.

Snapshots of Rainy Siena, Italy: A Few Days in the Heart of Tuscany

It’s been three years since I wandered a hilltown in Italy by myself.

My trip to Orvieto and Assisi was well before I watched with the rest of the world as Italy was ravaged by a pandemic, a memory that is clearly fresh on the streets of Italy as they require N95 masks in all public places.

But I boarded a flight this week for Pisa and then hopped a train to Siena because I’m returning to Tuscany for a retreat that has been cancelled and rescheduled twice.

I always like to visit somewhere new in Italy before I head over to my friend Jane’s retreats, so I chose Siena, a town that is on the way to Fattoria via Italy’s impressive train network.

I stepped off the train on a rainy afternoon and proceeded to drag a suitcase all over Siena’s stone streets for the better part of an hour before reaching my little hotel room.

I passed through Siena’s main square, Il Campo, where everyone goes to watch the horses race in the summer and where both locals and tourists gather for drinks and people-watching.

I returned to the square after checking into my hotel room to start a city walking tour. Often when I am by myself, I download a walking tour from Rick Steve’s Audio Europe app. The one for Siena was just over an hour, so I popped in my headphones and started walking.

The center of Siena is all pedestrian, so it’s perfect for a walking tour. (I do love a car-free city.)

As I walked up the hill from the main square to the Duomo, I passed shops, restaurants and palazzos.

After peeking into a courtyard with an ancient well, I soon found myself rounding a corner and staring up at the wedding-cake like structure that is arguably the main attraction in Siena, Il Duomo.

The last time I passed through Siena, I didn’t have time to tour the Duomo, so I planned to take my time seeing it this time around. I bought a 2-day ticket to the church, the crypt, the baptistry and the museum next door.

I started by walking all around the outside on the wet marble.

The tall tower looks even taller than it actually is. Optical illusions are used to make both the tower and the inside of the dome appear taller than they are. On the outside the stripes of the tower are painted closer together as they get higher to give you the impression that the top is further away.

The next day I climbed an adjacent building and took a photo of the tower where you can see the way the stripes are stacked to create this impression.

I spent a long time inside the church looking up at the dome and then at all the floor mosaics and the library of VERY OLD choir books. They were giant so that the whole choir could look at them all at once, so I guess you could say they are the 16th century version of the overhead projector. Except the pages were made of sheepskin and then painted in great detail by monks.

Back outside the church, I continued my tour down the steep steps to the baptistry which is around the back of the church.

I was sure I was going to fall down these wet, steep stairs, but you’ll be glad to know that I made it down them in tact.

I guess hand rails weren’t really a thing in the fourteenth century.
Side note: Be sure to wear sensible shoes if you visit Siena.
I feel like this goes without saying when visiting any European city but I always see folks traipsing around in the most crazy shoes. And don’t get me wrong, I have mad respect for gals walking through the rainy, steep streets of Siena in heels, but that’s never going to be me.

My audio tour took me next to a viewpoint below the Duomo where you can look out and see another of Siena’s famous churches, San Domenico, which I would visit the next day.

By this point, I was soaking wet, so I grabbed a few snacks and made my way back to my hotel.

Oh but first I stopped for gelato (hazelnut and pistachio, in case you’re wondering) because rain or shine, I’m going to have gelato on my first day back in Italy after three years.

 The hotel where I stayed has a courtyard covered in wisteria, so I walked around back there to take in the views before calling it a day.

It’s at the edge of the center of Siena so the courtyard looks out over the Tuscan hillside.

Day 2 started with breakfast at the hotel. Cappuccino, of course. Plus pastries, fruit and yogurt.

Fueled and rested, I headed back out into the rain.

The rain was falling even harder than the day before, so I was properly soaked before I reached the Duomo museum.

Once inside the museum, I carried my dripping raincoat at arm’s length while viewing the original statues and stained glass from the church. In the last 50 years or so, replicas have been put in place in the church and the originals have been moved to this museum in order to preserve them.

A couple of favorites:

John the Baptist. I was hoping to see Donatello’s John the Baptist in the Duomo, but it is currently on loan to an exhibit in Florence. So this one by Jacopo Della Quercia stood in as a decent substitute. I really love it when an artist renders John the Baptist as crazy as I imagine he was. I think of him as being similar to John Brown. I imagine they are now friends in a corner of heaven alongside Jeremiah and Isaiah, all of them railing against corrupt kings, American slave-owners and injustice with equal passion.

Madonna and Child. Since I missed most of Donatello’s Siena work, I was grateful to find this sculpture by him in the Duomo museum. Mary’s face and hair resembles other sculptures I’ve admired of Donatello’s, always exquisite. And the blue glass inlays are a fun touch. Good stuff.

At the top of the museum you can take some stairs up to an archway that was meant to be part of the original church, but is just a facade or facciatone. Because of the rain, we were only permitted to walk out on the first level, but it was well worth doing for the views.

In addition to the photo of the church from the higher point of view, I took MANY photos of Siena from the other side of the walkway.

From these photos, you can understand why we have a crayon in our original box of Crayolas called Burnt Siena.

Siena is known all over Italy for this reddish brown color.

It’s hard to tell, but from this viewpoint, you can see Il Campo which has the tall tower just at its edge.

After climbing up high for the view and touring the museum, I was ready for a little something to eat.

Pizza and Vino. Yes, please.

After lunch, I made my way further through the streets, past shops and restaurants.

And through more rain naturally.

I passed many umbrellas before reaching the Basilica of San Domenico.

San Domenico has a chapel that is dedicated to Saint Catherine of Siena. It actually houses both her head and one of her fingers, which is a bit creepy but well worth seeing. Catherine, who influenced popes and politics in her time, is beloved in Siena. Her body is entombed in Rome but the people of Siena were determined to have some of her remains, so the story is that they stole her head and finger to bring her back to her hometown.

I was properly wet again by the time I got to San Domenico, so I sat for a while in the church, which is far less busy than the Duomo.

I lit some candles, said some prayers, wrote in my journal and enjoyed being out of the rain.

From the outside of San Domenico, you can look back at the center of Siena and see both the Duomo and its tower on the hill to the right.

And then to the left is the tower that dominates Siena’s main square.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle by the time I left San Domenico, so I walked slowly back through the city once more, stopping for tea and a pastry along the way.

The next day it was time to wave goodbye to lovely Siena and make my way to a beloved villa and familiar vineyard.

What a delight to be back in Bella Italia!!

The post Snapshots of Siena, Italy appeared first on Alison Chino.

We moved to Bristol on December 31st, our 27th wedding anniversary. 

So we have been here for about a month now, which is not really that long, but we have unpacked our stuff and we’ve purchased some second hand furniture. Our house feels less like a sparsely furnished airbnb and each day it seems more like a place where we actually live.

There’s a very small grocery store about a quarter of a mile from us and it doesn’t have everything you need, but you can get quite a lot there. Still, in order to avoid having to carry everything home, I’ve figured out how to order groceries to be delivered.  

I have also found two other services about which I’m really excited. One of them is that I have a box of fresh fruits and vegetables coming every week. It comes overnight on Thursday nights. And I don’t know necessarily what’s going to be in it. Actually there’s a website where I can go and look at what is coming, but a lot of times I don’t and I just open it up and see what’s in it and then figure out what to cook. Which I think is fun. So it’s produce that would normally go to waste because it’s shaped a little funny  or not perfect or just there’s a surplus of supply. I think we have similar services in the United States but I’ve never never used one before.

And then, on Thursday morning I have fresh milk, eggs, cream, cheese and yogurt delivered. The milk comes in glass bottles which sort of feels like from another time. So Thursday morning and Friday morning are a bit like Christmas to me. Opening up the door to treasures sitting right there that have been delivered overnight that are fresh to use. 

I’ve also found a bakery that has maybe the best almond croissant I’ve ever tasted. It’s just about a mile from my house, maybe a little less, and they also have sausage rolls and pastries with steak and things in them, so I can always talk Simon into walking to that bakery with me because he’ll get a savory something and I’ll get the almond croissant.

So yeah, I guess you could say that we have figured out food.  

And drinks of course, we’re enjoying pub culture again. I wrote to someone recently to tell them that I had forgotten that one of my favorite things about living in Scotland was meeting friends at the pub and then walking home at night afterwards with Taido. It is a small pleasure but there is something lovely about getting to walk home together after sitting and chatting and having a drink. Those are just really sweet memories, so it’s kind of fun to feel like I’m returning to them again.

In general, I am loving the return to walking culture. Of course, if you’re a long time reader, you know that I love walking, so being back where it’s a part of daily, normal life is exciting and fun for me. Everywhere you go, you walk. I think I logged about seven miles yesterday walking to second hand furniture shops and picking up a few extra things for dinner.

Trying to go to a lot of places in town would be such a stressful trip in the car, because the roads are really small, and often there’s no place to park. You have to parallel and pay to park everywhere. So, there are a lot of times that  even if you wanted to drive, it just makes more sense to walk. I like that walking is not just something that I go do, but it’s this daily part of life–walk to the store, walk to the shops, walk to the bakery.

Simon’s also walking to school, which is just under a couple of miles away. He actually walks with the child of one of Taido’s colleagues who is his age and lives just around the corner. Lots of other folks join them on the way there, so by the time they get to school,  everybody’s kind of pouring in from all directions. I remember when the big kids walked to and home from school in Scotland, and it was like they had taken a breath and processed their day before they got home. Like all kids, when they come home, they just want to get something to eat, get on the computer, and kind of check out. As a mom, somehow this feels more okay to me after they’ve just walked for two miles.

We’ve also been going to church every Sunday, which we hardly did during the pandemic. So that feels new in more ways than one. We’re going to a church that is about a quarter of a mile away from us. (It’s not the one pictured above…that’s a church in the city center called St Mary’s Redcliffe, from the 12th century.)

We’ve also been meeting a lot of Taido’s colleagues and their families. He’s working an Trinity College (pictured above), which is an Anglican college. He seems to have such a sweet group of folks that he works with. They have worked to form a community here. They have chapel every morning, and all the students and staff have lunch together every day, which I am able to join if I want.

So I’ve been going up about once a week and having lunch, which has been a fun way to meet some of the teachers and students. 

Besides buying groceries and setting up our house, I’ve been getting ready for all my upcoming trips. Lots of walks are planned for spring and summer, so to prepare, I am heading out on a long walk around the city about three times a week.

I am visiting Bristol over and over from different directions and kind of getting to know it by walking, which of course is my favorite way to get to know a place.  I just walk out my front door. One day this week it was absolutely gorgeous out, so I just kept going and going. By the end of the day, I had walked over 15 miles.

I walked along the River Avon. I found a bicycle path that I want to return to with a bike. 

I walked around the Bristol harbor (harbour).

Bristol used to be a major port city.

Now the harbor is lined with outdoor pubs, shops and museums. It seems like a place we will often return to, especially in the summer.

Already I have a whole list of things that I’m excited about doing with folks.

Ben will be here in March and I’m sure I’ll overwhelm him with all the different walks and things I want to do in Bristol – places I want to go to have tea, places I want to go and have a drink, spots I want to go eat… I’ve got a whole pile of things.

So if you decide to come and visit, bring your tennis shoes and get ready, because we’ve got a lot of places to go.

So that’s about it as far as our first month here. I’m sure I’ll have more as the weeks progress.

But I think we are starting to feel at home. 

Here’s how I know. 

Last night, after spending an afternoon wandering through the city and going to second-hand furniture shops together. Taido and I were walking back to the house. We stopped off at a pub called The Shakespeare, which was lovely, but then we were wandering home from there and we reached this giant park which is near our house. 

You actually go up a hill from our house to get to it, and then the park is a big flat green space called The Downs. After you cross The Downs, you walk down a big hill into the city.

So you have to walk through this big, beautiful park no matter where you’re going into town, and then again when you’re walking back to our house. If you’re headed home from town, when you reach The Downs, you know that you’ve got like three quarters of a mile left and that it will be downhill the rest of the way.

Sometimes we walk up to The Downs and just circle the park for a walk. Sometimes I put on wellies and march right through it. (It’s often muddy.) I’ve already seen it in all kinds of weather.

Bright sunshine, drizzles of rain, a total fog cover and most often, just sort of gray.

So yesterday evening when we reached the edge of The Downs after climbing the hill from the city, I thought, Oh, there, we’re almost home. And just in that moment, I caught myself saying home, and I thought, Yes, I am starting to feel like this is going to be our home.

The post Snapshots of Bristol appeared first on Alison Chino.

So for our family vacation this summer, in addition to spending some time in the Shenandoah, we went camping for a long weekend in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to Porcupine Mountain State Park.

Our connection to Porcupine Mountain began the summer Simon was born.

Taido loaded up the three big kids + one cousin and took them all camping there. He drove our mini van (pulling a flat bed trailer full of gear) all the way up to the north of the north of the north.

To Lake Superior.

It was 2006.

The barefoot child in the above photo just graduated from college.

15 years ago, these four ran and played and swam and threw rocks…

And experienced the joy of being in this beautiful place.

While I was at home nursing a baby, they climbed through forests and made trails over their own little mountains.

They even enjoyed a little (probably enforced) camp chill time.

They walked the long staircase every day to stand in the freezing cold lake, and to watch the sunset.

And then they drove back home and told me all about it.

But I forgot about this place I had never been to.

Until 15 years later, Taido suggested we go there again. He said it would be cooler in the summertime, and that the drive would be shorter since we don’t live in Arkansas.

So a plan was made.

A long weekend in July was marked off on the calendar.

And off we went.

Again there were four kiddos. Much bigger this time.

And a different set of kids, save Ben.

We drove to the north of the north of the north and escaped the hot summer sun.

We walked the same long stairway down to Lake Superior.

We hiked the same trails.

And found ourselves in the middle of quiet woods.

And alongside waterfalls.

The kids crawled over rocks.

They sat by the river and watched the water flow by.

Now that the kids are older, sometimes we left them back at camp and went on morning hikes while they were still asleep in their sleeping bags.

We walked along the river in the cool shadows before the sun was high.

And we pondered how it is possible that piles of rocks can be so gorgeous.

When the kids were awake we drove as far north as we could go.

And everyone at least touched the ocean-like lake, and some brave folks got all the way in.

And then more hiking!

Porcupine Mountain State Park has miles and miles of beautiful trails.

This trail above The Lake of the Clouds might have been our favorite.

But it’s hard to choose! We also loved the river hike along the waterfalls.

And we enjoyed not having to watch little guys so closely.

I remember when Taido came home in 2006 and he showed me pictures of the giant staircase down to the lake, I thought that if I had been there, I might have been a little nervous about the kids camping up so high. Of course, this time I didn’t even think about the kids running down to the lake on their own.

Though I was still tempted once or twice to tell Ben to be careful.

And after hiking and swimming, we had a little camp chill time.

Napping + Outside = Dreamy Summertime.

This time, no one had to be forced to nap.

We had no cell service at our campground. Such a rare gift in 2021, y’all.

My niece Emily let all the cousins use her drawing materials.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw these boys drawing.

And just like in 2006, we went down to the lake every night to watch the sun drop below the horizon.

The colors were different each night.

It’s amazing how the sunset happens every day but is never the same.

And of course, the kids still got their shoes wet.

And they still spent hours skipping rocks.

Our sweet camping trip reminded me again and again that you’re never too old to play in the sun.

I found this passage about teaching kids to love the outdoors in a Mary Oliver book of essays recently that I just love:

Teach the children. We don’t matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones — inkberry, lamb’s-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones — rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

Attention is the beginning of devotion.

(from Upstream)

My little kiddos grew up so fast (just like everyone told me that they would.)

This camping trip was a blessed pause, a moment to see that yes, I think we did give them the field and the woods.

I hope we showed them the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit.

And I will always rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

A few details for if you go to Porcupine Mountain:

There are two campgrounds in Porcupine Mountain State Park: Presque Isle and Union Bay. Both of our camping trips were at Presque Isle (no electrical hook-ups + pit toilets), but we drove one day to Union Bay, and it is lovely as well. Reservations are accepted (and recommended) at both campgrounds. There are also several great-looking backcountry sites, which we have our eye on for a return trip. The closest town to Presque Isle is Wakefield, which was a good 30 minutes away, so stock up on ice and firewood when you drive through there on your way.

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