Who said flat-hunting was a chore?

If youʼve made it this far on this site, you must have at least a passing interest in travel, but however ardent your wanderlust, itʼs inevitable that not every aspect of a trip – whether at home or abroad – is going to be all sunshine and rainbows. Filling in visa forms is a familiar headache. So is double-checking your train times and realising that youʼve only got three minutes to run halfway across a station before you miss your all-important connection. But in our experience, few elements of the travel experience are more likely to have you grinding your teeth than organising your accommodation.

It takes a very special kind of masochism to enjoy this process. Thereʼs nothing quite like spending hours trawling accommodation websites, noting down prices, comparing them and then – joy of joys – finding that the perfect hotel (you know, the one you thought looked ideal, but you just wanted to check one more) is now fully booked or is mysteriously no longer eligible for the offer that was so temptingly within your budget a few minutes ago.

So how do you take some of the horror out of getting that elusive dream hotel / motel / hostel / guest house / whatever? Well, there are no hard and fast rules, but our travels on and off the worldʼs various beaten tracks have taught us two valuable lessons. The principles are simple, but putting them into action could make all the difference to your trip.

1. Know your destination, and manage your own expectations accordingly. Heading to a rundown town in the back of beyond? You might struggle to find the familiar comforts of a Novotel. And if youʼre only looking to spend a few quid a night for somewhere to lay your head, donʼt expect fluffy towels, or – depending on your destination – running water. Travel broadens the mind, itʼs true, but make sure your understanding of where youʼre going isnʼt too narrow to start with.

2. Plan ahead. There are usually plenty of opportunities to get a hotel or find apartment accommodation when you arrive at your destination, particularly if youʼre heading somewhere more well-known, but even so, you should never leave it completely to chance that youʼll stumble across your dream lodgings within minutes of stepping off the train or plane. Some countries wonʼt even let you into their borders unless you can prove where youʼre staying.

A bit of forward planning can take a huge weight off your mind and open your eyes to accommodation options you might never have considered. As well as the better-known industry heavies, youʼll find that sites like Wimdu let you scope out all kinds of self-catering apartments and flats that will fall within your budget. And of course, paying for at least some of your accommodation in advance lets you spread the cost of a trip. Good news all round, then.

Travelling is meant to be about discovering new places and new experiences, but we all want those experiences to be pleasurable ones. It doesnʼt matter whether the accommodation you choose is five-star or a little more rustic; with a bit of preparation and an open mind, youʼre halfway there.

Booking a trip in the British Isles makes for a rewarding treat

When you get bitten good and hard by the intrepid international globe-trotting bug, there’s a danger that you dismiss a huge avenue of adventure that abounds with excitement and promise; namely, the discovery of good old Britannia. That we travelling Brits tend to take our own back yard rather for granted, and never see it as the same garden of paradise that foreigners do, is something of a crying shame. There are many jewels in the United Kingdom’s crown, and to dismiss them for the thrill of more exotic locations and climes is to cheat yourself out of some real magic.

Let’s take city breaks for a start. Availing yourself of the many delights of our wonderful capital, or indeed one of the other fine cities Great Britain has to offer, will open your eyes to a plethora of art, culture and architecture just waiting to be stumbled across. You could start with the main candidates such as York, Edinburgh, Durham, Manchester or Birmingham, but it can be immense fun picking out some of the less-visited examples like Sheffield, Brighton, Cambridge, Lancaster, Exeter, Chester… the list isn’t endless, but it will keep you going for quite a while.

And when you’re done with cities, start ploughing your way through our fantastic collection of towns and villages – if you haven’t a clue where to start, just decide how far you want to travel and literally stick a pin in the map.

If you don’t fancy driving, why not consider the train, bus or coach – try to see even the most mundane forms of transport as a passport to adventure, and always take your camera and a notebook to keep a record of your trip.

Book journeys well enough in advance and it won’t cost a fortune either, and when booking accommodation, your online world is pretty much your oyster. Whether you’re after a humble guest house or something offering a bit more luxury, you can bag some amazing hotel deals from some of the leading chains, especially at weekends. Don’t just rely on sites like Booking.com either – make a note of all the good UK hotel operators and get into the habit of searching their own websites too; there’s many a good deal to be had as they all compete for your lucrative business.

And a fantastic time to start your little odyssey is in the run up to Christmas – why not be adventurous and do your Christmas shopping out of town? Your gifts will be different and you get to have a mini-holiday too.

Post Christmas is also great for an indulgent little treat. The bright lights of the festive season are over, and the long, dark days of January can easily fall flat and lacklustre. Book your early new year break now and you’ll be surprised how it bucks you up, sustaining you throughout the stress of Christmas, and giving you something special to look forward to after you’ve returned to work.

Of course, it doesn’t mean you’re never going to go abroad again, but it will hopefully enable you to appreciate some of the finer points our beautiful little group of islands has to offer.

Finding a ‘proper’ pub these days can be a tall order, but here we present a West Lancashire gem

In these times of pubs closing right, left and centre, one wonders what will actually become of the great British boozer. It’s a tradition we’ve always cherished, and it seems odd that we should blame the smoking ban – or even the recession – for preventing us from availing ourselves of this national institution. Odd it may be, but true none-the-less, and in our travels throughout the land we have encountered heart-breaking stories from landlords and landladies who have ploughed their all into these cornerstones of the great British way of life, not always successfully. So what makes a pub a winner? It’s quite easy to see how a pub-cum-eatery in a tourist spot can eke out a more than meagre existence, but what about that very special breed, the ubiquitous ‘local’? To survive these days, these must be made of sterner stuff.

Happily, we are blessed with such an establishment in our very own little coastal town of Fleetwood in Lancashire. The Queens Hotel is lovingly presided over by landlords Benny and Gail Emsley, and run pretty much to perfection by their dedicated team of Jamie, Lindsey, Adam and Kathryn. Here is a pub where you can pop in for a pint after work, chat with fellow regulars, pass the time of day with strangers and generally just relax without having to stand on ceremony. It caters for sporting enthusiasts and music lovers alike, offering regular local band spots usually on a Friday night. But if you do just fancy a drink and a chat, finding a quiet corner shouldn’t be too difficult.

The Queens has atmosphere, feels clean and cared for and is a congenial and safe space, thanks to Benny and Gail’s no-nonsense approach to trouble makers. The regular clientele see it very much as ‘their’ space, and a culture of friendly respect is observed at all times.

Prices are reasonable too, with a great selection of ales and lagers, wines, spirits and shots, and a good range of snacks – not least the deliciously well-stocked Holland’s pie oven for those times when a pie and a pint is all that will do.

So if you just fancy a beer down the local, but sadly that means standing awkwardly like a fish out of water while armies of family diners and their delightfully well-behaved offspring scream and shriek around your feet, you might just find the solace you seek at this quiet, unassuming Fleetwood ale house. It’s the great British local at its best.

The Queens Hotel
Poulton Road
Fleetwood
Lancashire
FY7 8PR

Telephone: 01253 876740

Twenty minutes in a darkened tunnel never looked so full of promise…

It’s when standing on the platform at Paris’ Gare du Nord, or Brussels Midi Station, that the impact of what’s just happened can be felt. You’ve crossed the English Channel, you’re in northern Europe, and you’re ready for adventure. You haven’t had to fly; to be honest, you’ve barely had to queue.

Such is the wonder of Eurostar. Now, I have to admit I was very much a latecomer to this most superb of services, first availing myself of it for a trip to Bremen in March this year. But I’m now a dyed-in-the-wool Eurostar fanatic, and would urge anyone who hasn’t yet done so to try it at their earliest opportunity.

For exploring either Paris or Brussels, you can be up, close and personal from London’s awesome St Pancras Station in as near to two hours as makes no difference. There’s no ‘checking in two hours before’ nonsense, no being separated from your luggage and pretty much no fuss. Standard class is comfortable and airy, and there’s even a touch of gourmet buffet going on if you feel a bit peckish (I’m one of those rare people that really likes inflight meals too – isn’t it all part of the experience of travel?).

But the real excitement for me is in the huge gateway Eurostar opens to the rest of… well, I was going to say Europe but, in theory, I suppose it’s the world. I took a fantastic rail trip this summer, spending time in Paris, Zurich, Vienna, Budapest, Bucharest, Brasov, Sighisoara, Bratislava and Munich, and the whole extravaganza was book-ended by a return Eurostar trip from London. And before you say ‘yeah, but you have to be in London’, I live on the northwest coast of England, and make an overnight stay in the capital part of the treat – it doesn’t cost a fortune if you stay at the London Euston St Pancras Ibis (which – as the name suggests – is perfect for both stations), but if that’s not to your liking then remember Preston is only a couple of hours from London on the Virgin express. Book well enough in advance and it adds very little to the cost of your trip, which is hardly excessive with return trips to both Paris and Brussels coming in at under £70. But you can book your onward travel with your Eurostar ticket too – we’ve added both Bruges and Amsterdam on in the past for an extra few quid by choosing ‘any Dutch station’.

But the real buzz for me is that I can do it all without flying. That aviation and me are not the most comfortable of bedfellows is no secret, so to be able to get all the way to Bucharest without a single diazepam is something of a coup. And whether tree for tree it actually works out that way, the whole experience just feels a little greener. And I like trees.

Visit www.eurostar.com

Tel: 08432 186 186 or +44 (0)1233 617 575 (from outside the UK)

Email Eurostar

Nige Burton takes to the skies on the wings of a Cessna-172

The sun shone brightly and directly into my eyes, serenaded by the incessant throb of a willing little Cessna engine, as I taxied my way around to one of the main runways of Blackpool’s international airport. Here I was, the world’s most abounding aviophobic, about to take flight under my own steam, albeit with the much needed and very welcome guidance of the venerable Captain Philip Mundin of Westair Flying Services. It was do or die time; kill or cure. I figured if this didn’t sort out my ridiculous and unreasonable sense of panic at the thought of any impending air travel, nothing would.

Of course, I hold Aircrash Investigation largely to blame for my affliction, complete with the dramatic sincerity in the dulcet tones of Jonathan Aris, who could make the mildest bout of turbulence feel apocalyptic. But my Fear of Flying course at Manchester airport in 2006 had only partially straightened out my aeronautical neurosis, and pained anxiety is not a good airport look for a seasoned traveller whose passion is discovering the world. This had to be fixed once and for all, and I figured if maybe I got to feel what actually flying the plane myself was like, I might be in with a ghost of a chance.

Turns out ghost was the operative word; the registration of my four seater craft, a Cessna-172, was G-OWST. Oh, bloody hell. It must be an omen – maybe I shouldn’t bother going up after all. Who flies a plane called Gowst? Well, obviously quite a lot of people, rather uneventfully. Time to grab my wrist, concentrate on my breathing and get a grip – an old counselling technique I was once taught. It sometimes works.

Captain Mundin was sympathetic. I fessed up to the whole sorry mess, and he just smiled calmly and said “are you ready then?” I’d had my pre-flight briefing in the classroom, affording me the necessary knowledge to sort my flaps from my ailerons and my elevators from my rudder. I even knew, in theory, why it was important to fly ‘in trim’. So there.

Take off was impressive, with Philip taking control and me keeping a light grip on the stick (actually, a wheel in my case) so I could experience the procedure and ‘feel’. And once we were climbing high above the Pleasure Beach, as if by magic, my fear literally started to melt away as the excitement of what was taking place supplanted it. We were actually flying, and it somehow felt different. I thought that the size of the aircraft would make me worse, but it had the opposite effect. As we soared over Blackpool Tower and headed for Windermere, ascending to our cruising altitude of just 4,000 feet, one of the biggest grins I’d worn for a very long time spread inexorably over my clock. Wow! What a thrill; what an experience! I was actually flying. And this is no exaggeration, as Philip handed me control about ten minutes into the flight (“you have control,” – “I have control,”; it’s airspeak, you know) and I got to feel what this crazy old experience of flying is actually like. Many will tell you it’s addictive, and I can see why. Within half an hour, I was already projecting way forward to the day I got my pilot’s licence. Hard to believe, I’m sure, but absolutely true. I’d go up again tomorrow.

The remainder of the flight saw me largely in control, as we headed out across Morecambe Bay, taking light turbulence in our stride, and then returned to circle Fleetwood and Cleveleys. I was even allowed to descend and fly in a holding pattern over Poulton (I live a very glamorous life, you see) before finally handing control back to the captain for approach and landing.

This flying lark is an activity I can wholeheartedly recommend – it’s great fun, inspiring and gives you a tremendous feeling of accomplishment, especially if you’re a nervous wreck of a flyer like I was. Has it cured me? Probably not completely – I’m still apprehensive when I have to take a flight, but nowhere near as badly as before. Nowadays, I just want to get in the cockpit and play co-pilot – then, I’d be absolutely fine. Must be something to do with having control… now, what was it Doctor Freud said again?

To book your flying lesson, take a look at:

Westair Flying Services Ltd
Blackpool Airport
Blackpool
Lancashire
FY4 2QS

Visit www.westair.uk.com

Tel: +44 (0)1253 342660

Email school@westair.uk.com

Aerial pictures by Jamie Salisbury-Jones

A stay at the Ambrosia Hotel is the perfect way to explore the Ypres Salient

Every now and then, you get to stay in an establishment that just kind of puts that inner smile on your wellbeing. There’s just something about such a place that puts the world to rights and makes you feel that you’re in good hands. It doesn’t have to be a five star hotel – the humblest guest house can do it, but it does have to be well run for the benefit of its patrons and offer something a little out of the ordinary. Such a hostelry exists in the beautiful, unassuming little town of Ypres, in the Flanders area of Belgium – namely the excellent, privately run Ambrosia Hotel, tucked quietly away on 54 D’ Hondstraat.

Now I’ve been forbidden to bang on in this article about the virtues of this amazing yet underrated country, but that’s never stopped me before. My views on Belgium are no secret, but those people who have never actually been but ‘just don’t fancy it’ are a source of much misery to this particular wanderer; let me say once and for all to all those uneducated creatures: Belgium is one of the finest countries on this earth, and its capital one of the greatest cities and Ypres one of the most pleasing little jewels you’ll ever have the good fortune to happen across, and I’ll brook no argument to the contrary.

Exquisitely owned and operated by Vincent Vandelannoote and Iwona Danik, the Ambrosia extends a truly warm welcome to its guests. Elegant rooms, simply and comfortably furnished, provide relaxing accommodation just minutes away from some of Ypres’ greatest attractions, such as the Menin Gate and the fantastic Flanders Fields Museum.

After a comfortable night you can wander down to a leisurely breakfast, and I heartily recommend you sample the gourmet delight of Eggs Vincent. Quite simply, these are a couple of sunny-side ups done the Monsieur Vandelannoote way – to absolute perfection. It’s the perfect start to either a day of adventurous exploring, or simply a relaxing potter around the town itself, availing yourself of its many and varied delights.

A few days at the Ambrosia leaves you feeling both relaxed and inspired, and it is well connected for pretty much all you could want to do in the area, from a trip to the beautiful Tyne Cot Cemetery to a wander round the haunting nearby town of Passchendaele. Vincent and his team will provide you with hints and tips to help you make the most of your stay, happily supplying leaflets and hand-outs for the many and varied organised tours available, although do bear in mind that these are often best booked in advance.

Our stay at the Ambrosia was so congenial that it stands out among the many hostelries we have frequented during our years of globetrotting, so much so, in fact, that we proudly include it in our Tiny Atlas compendium of the world’s most unforgettable experiences.

Hotel Ambrosia
D’ Hondstraat 54
8900 Ieper
Belgium

Visit www.ambrosiahotel.be

Tel.: +32 57 366 366

Email info@ambrosiahotel.be

The Sanctuary, a hideaway at the stunning Cranleigh Hotel at the heart of Bowness-on-Windermere, ranks easily with some of the world’s finest

Imagine a place where nothing else exists apart from the means by which you can totally indulge your every whim. A hideaway where you can be as far as you like from the madding crowd but within a hair’s breadth of a cosy bistro or intimate bar, and all within a stunningly beautiful setting at the heart of the English Lakes.

You’d be forgiven for thinking it either sounds too good to be true, or would come at such a premium price as to make it prohibitive. Happily, neither is true. Believe me when I say that I’ve stayed at some rather fabulous rooms and suites in pretty exclusive locations across the globe, having been lucky enough to review them for a selection of high-end publications both online and in print. Now these do come with a price tag to match (on occasions that’s been several thousands of pounds per night) and there’s no denying they’ve been very impressive, but I’ve always come away with the notion that it’s just somewhere to put my head down at the end of the day, and the money I’d have had to pay would feel wasted, no matter how well-heeled one might be. But I’ve had my head turned and my heart changed, and I kind of feel like I’m revealing a secret that I don’t really want everyone to know about, but then that would just be selfish and defeat the whole object of World Travel Blog.

Ok, so I’m going to let this one out of the bag. I had the good fortune recently to stumble across the Cranleigh, a stunning little jewel of a hotel in the centre of Bowness. It’s always worth noting that, when booking anywhere for the South Lakes, you might want to consider Bowness over Windermere if it’s the lake you’re after; whilst Windermere is a perfectly pleasant, picturesque Lakeland town, it has no actual lake. Lake Windermere itself is actually situated in Bowness, and this is a good five to ten minute drive (so a considerable walk) further on. The Cranleigh is in the very centre of Bowness, just four or five minutes from the lake.

Upon arrival, I’d have been perfectly delighted to have been staying in the main hotel itself, but was fortunate enough to have booked the Sanctuary, a self-contained apartment tucked quietly away off the main drag. Private and unassuming from the outside, absolutely nothing on earth could have prepared me for what was on the other side of that little front door. For the first time in many a long year of staying in hotels, this stunning pied de terre literally took my breath away, from its luxuriously opulent decor right down to its incredible attention to detail. Chilled Champagne and chocolates welcomed us as soon as we walked through the door and, still reeling from the surprise of this, my eyes started to drink in the other details making this surely the best room in the Lake District. A huge bed, fit for royalty, dominated the main room without overcrowding it, and yes – it was as comfortable as it looked, affording me the best night’s sleep I’d had in ages. Add to this a 46” LCD television which is connected to a Bose surround sound Lifestyle system with iPod docking station and DVD player, well-stocked bar (with complimentary sherry) and all the comfort and trappings you could imagine in your ideal environment – there’s even free internet access – and you still couldn’t begin to have a picture of what the Sanctuary is all about.

And then there’s the bathroom, which I’m perfectly sure I could have lived in quite happily, with its glass Ben de Lisi bath (the first ever to be fitted in a hotel room), walk-in shower and relaxing LED light show to boot. Oh, and of course there’s a separate 18” widescreen TV in the bathroom, situated perfectly to enable relaxed viewing whilst bathing. Outrageous.

The icing on the cake has got to be the private hot tub, situated externally to the property in its own little ‘courtyard’ – the perfect environment in which to enjoy your Champagne (in, of course, the plastic ‘glasses’ provided. Mustn’t forget the Health and Safety Exec).

All in all, it’s hard to imagine accommodation which could be more luxurious, and in such a perfect location. If you want a real treat – that all too rare occasion when pampering is the order of the day, and you feel like living someone else’s life a tad more glamorous than your own – then this should be at the top of your list. But the real surprise is the price; the Sanctuary comes in at between £250 and £400 including bed and breakfast, based on two sharing, and trust me when I say this represents breathtaking value for money. Once you’ve lapped up the Black Magic Marble floor tiles (and underfloor heating), the Samara Platinum wall tiles, the wall papers and fabrics from the Royal Collection in the Queen’s archives and a fantastic night’s rest in the super kingsize bed with goose down bedding, let me suggest you take the breakfast like a king in your room. Ample, carefully selected local produce, beautifully cooked and lovingly presented, provides not just your average full English, but a gourmet extravaganza which will round off this whole experience with lasting finesse. This is the stuff dreams are made of, and every now and then, it’s nice to acknowledge just how ‘worth it’ you are.

For more details, visit: www.thecranleigh.com

The Cranleigh
Kendal Road
Bowness-on-Windermere
Cumbria
United Kingdom
LA23 3EW

+44 (0)15394 43293
Email: enquiries@thecranleigh.com

all images © The Cranleigh Hotel

Sailing around South Greenland’s deep blue icebergs isn’t something you get the chance to do every day, but you’ll remember it for the rest of them once you’ve done it

My imagination had already informed my adventure of sailing around vast icebergs in the Qooroq ice field of South Greenland. The original trip had been planned with an authentic wooden fishing vessel as our mode of transport, but this had been cancelled due to bad planning on the part of the excursion company; despite having paid upfront, we were dutifully informed that there weren’t enough people on the trip, so ‘it would’t be going’.

Undaunted and undeterred, we set about making this once in a lifetime experience happen ourselves; there was no way I was travelling all the way to Greenland and not having my fifteen minutes of tranquility among creaking ice and the crisp, breathy stillness of summertime on the world’s largest non-continental island.

Blessed with a tenacious guide called Christine, and an intrepid adventurer mariner called Nils, we set about planning this most amazing of experiences. It was planned over a wily coffee in Nils’ headquarters, an atmospheric shipping shack located on the main Narsarsuaq road, adjacent to the air strip and a little before Hospital Valley. The excitement was building, without doubt enhanced by the lack of other tourists, and the voyage was set for the following morning.

“It will just be a sort of dinghy,” Nils advised, “so we must have at least very little wind.”

Squally showers and a light breeze announced the coming dawn, and we breakfasted on reindeer and seal meats with some trepidation; was the weather good enough, would we make it out to the ice field? Our time in Greenland was rapidly running out, so it was getting to the point of now or never.

We needn’t have worried. Ardent skipper Nils collected us from the hotel on the very strike of 8am, and duly ferried us down to the harbour where we boarded our craft, a bright orange and blue inflatable that was to prove our passport to a land of magic. We were accompanied by Christine and guide-in-training Pilu, a native Greenlander who seemed as excited by the prospect of bobbing around in shattered sheet ice as we were. And so in our posse of four excitable boy scouts, with Akela Nils at the helm, we set off for Qooroq.

As we sped our way round the coast, the purply grey patchwork of cotton wool clouds gave way here and there to a shaft of ethereal, watery sunlight, bathing this harshly unforgiving yet beautiful landscape with an almost heavenly glow. It’s very hard to convey the feeling engendered by such an experience now I’m back on dry land sitting in front of a laptop, but thankfully something deep within my psyche holds onto it; the childlike wonder of butterflies in your tummy, the tingling throughout your whole being and the smile, that magnificent inward smile that imbues your very soul with a serene sense of wellbeing.

Approaching the ice field itself, we noticed that the initially sporadic floes were now coming thicker and faster, giving way occasionally to ever larger icebergs of azure and cobalt, indigo and sapphire – all the deep blues of pure ice, uncontaminated by air and impurities. Their majesty was overwhelming, their might bewildering. As Nils cut the engine allowing us to drift sedately among these behemoths of the sea, it was strangely comforting to feel the stillness of the morning, barely punctuated by creaking ice and its desultory crash into the freezing ocean. As the outboard motor slowly sputtered back into life, our captain nuzzled in yet closer, affording us the sublime opportunity to reach out and touch the ice itself, an activity to which mere mortal words can do no justice whatsoever; this was a oneness with nature which has no equal.

We continued to drift and bob among the ice for a good hour, before finally heading back to Narsarsuaq harbour. The random boats were still there, dotted around the quayside just like before, and the fishermen readied their vessels and tended their nets, just like before. All the daily necessities and details of this south Greenlandic village were continuing just as they had a few hours earlier; it was we who were different. We intrepid three, under the guidance of our master mariner, had communed with Mother Nature in a most spectacular way, and that had facilitated a change in us that would be a part of each one of us for our remaining days.

A fantastic tour of Israel and the Holy Lands doesn’t come in a much better guise than this superb offering from UK-based holiday company Leger

A trip to the Holy Lands was something I’d been wanting to do for many years – probably since my childhood. It’s not so much that I am devoutly religious, although I do consider myself a Christian, but the whole historical subject of Jesus the man is something that has fascinated me throughout my life.

Procuring such a trip proved to be more troublesome than I thought, with many such expeditions being given over to half a day’s prayer every day, and shaping up more as pilgrimages than voyages of discovery (except, maybe, of oneself). Now these are all fine and dandy for the unquestionably devoted, and the ubiquitous nature of such groups throughout Israel undoubtedly adds a not unwelcome spiritual ambience to any trip, but I wanted my Holy Land experience to be more visceral.

Normally, we’d simply make such a trip up ourselves as we went along, allowing us the freedom and flexibility to take in sights, sites and sounds at our leisure and, importantly, granting me sufficient latitude to garner enough imagery as I went. Truth be told, there was just too much to see and do and, given our extensive travel calendar this year already, a week was all that could be reasonably spared. Digging a little deeper into cyberspace unearthed an unlikely coadjutor in the form of Leger Holidays, although we booked it with some trepidation; we’d be with a coach-load of co-conspirators for the lion’s share of our week, it would no doubt involve hideously early starts and probably more than a little bit of whistle-stop and I’d be unlikely to have an opportunity to indulge my passion as a photographer. But at least we wouldn’t be on a prayer mat for fifty percent of the time, although there were a couple more downsides – no visits to the occupied Palestinian territories of Bethlehem or Jericho. Bugger! – sorry God – but Bethlehem was an absolute must, and Leger vehemently said ‘No!’; we’d have to see about that. You can’t do a trip to the Holy lands and miss out Bethlehem, surely? Hmm, we usually managed to do what we wanted, so decided on balance that Leger offered the best option and took the plunge, parking l’il old Bethlehem in our mental ‘stuff to sort when we get there’ folder.

In terms of value, I’m still not quite sure how Leger did it. The cost of our trip was just over £1100 each, and this included flights (and excellent ones at that, with Jet2.com), all accommodation, breakfasts, dinners and entrance fees. All that we’d need was literally a few sheckelim for drinks, lunches and the obligatory souvenirs (usually books for me, having given over the compulsive urge to collect useless tat from around the world years ago, although these are scrutinised very closely by the middle eastern airport authorities as likely explosives. Unlike some of the moaning Minnies in our queue – although I hasten to add, not our group – I actually find a deal of comfort in their vigilance and will happily stand in line for an extra hour or two if it means the plane’s more likely to stay in one piece while I’m on it).

Flying from Manchester, our late afternoon arrival at David Ben Gurion Airport was the first sign that we were in a big group: chaos had most certainly started to ensue until the tour operator personnel just sort of waded in and took control. Tempers had begun to fray a little among all these people who we didn’t know from Adam, yet would become our constant travelling companions for the next seven days. In truth, however, all was calmed down within half an hour or so and we were escorted to our coach to begin proper, and I realised that it was we who were out of sync – why would a group of nearly thirty people all fall in together and know what to do? It was a positive underlining that this holiday was not going to be our usual fare. And it was precisely at this point that we met Sheila, and knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that life was never going to be quite the same again. Sheila Meltzer, our Israeli-Jewish tour guide, a feisty mother and grandmother originally born in London, was feared. But boy, was she wonderful.

Ben Gurion Airport snuggles almost midway between Tel Aviv (meaning simply Spring Hill) and Israel’s capital, Jerusalem, so it was around an hour’s drive to our first port of call, the hotel Gilgal in Tel Aviv itself. Our evening here was free, and it certainly whetted our appetites for this amazing city, but tomorrow it was a northwestern trail to Tiberias via Nazareth, and after visiting breathtaking Caesarea we made this Galilean city our home for the next two nights. Highlights of this stop were, without doubt, a stunning sail on the Galilee itself and then relaxing after dinner over a glass of red, watching the twinkling lights of Tiberias as they frolicked their way down to the lakeside from our superb vantage point at the excellent and highly recommended Prima Galil Hotel.

The last four nights of the trip were spent in Jerusalem itself, and Sheila’s inimitable style brought the whole experience effortlessly to life; we’ve been incredibly lucky with guides throughout Europe and Asia, but here was one of the very best ever – a consummate professional who made every moment magical, but still managed to keep a tight rein on her flock of 48 (our Manchester group had been joined by another from London) albeit with a little help from one or two of her wily shepherds from within the group itself.

You can read about individual highlights in more detail in the separate posts which will go up over the coming days and weeks, but definitely worth mention in this overview are our float on the Dead Sea, a cable-car trip to Masada, overlooking the valley of Armageddon from Megiddo and a night-time excursion to the western wall and Jerusalem’s Jewish quarter, not to mention, of course, the Via Dolorosa (fourteen stations of the cross) which actually follows the route taken by Christ to Golgotha, or Calvary as we know it.

Our programme also managed to squeeze in a visit to the Israel Museum and Yad Vashem, the memorial and museum to the Shoah (Holocaust), both of which should not be missed.

We did, with Sheila’s help in tightening our schedule, manage our trip to Bethlehem, although this had to be accomplished entirely under our own steam and at our own risk. We also took a taxi ride out to the Christian Cemetery on Mount Zion, where we paid silent tribute to Oskar Schindler as a late autumn sun set over the beautiful City of Gold.

So, in summary, how did our first completely organised trip in years actually go? I have to say, remarkably well. Leger did an excellent job in putting together, with their Israeli counterparts Agada Tours Ltd, a truly packed Highlights of the Holy Land tour. This was further enhanced by a great group of flexible, easy-going fellow travellers and the beloved leader of our pack, the incomparable Mrs Meltzer. The true Leger magic for me is how they make so much happen for so little, and I would certainly put them on my list of top tour operators to facilitate future adventures. None of my worst fears came to pass, and I never once resented the early starts or felt like peeling away from my group to have a bit of ‘me time’. Sheila knew I was there to take pictures and report, and was constantly pointing out superb vantage points and fascinating facts, which hopefully the group as a whole managed to glean some benefit from.

So, the big question then: is it safe to visit Israel and the Palestinian Territories today? There were more than a few raised eyebrows when we told loved ones of our travel plans, and remember – with us, they’re used to the obscure and less than safe (remember Chernobyl?). But I have to say we had a trouble free trip, and managed to take in such extremes as the Golan Heights (just stick to the marked paths and watch out for the thousands of unexploded mines – but then you need to do that when visiting the battlefields of the Somme) and Bethlehem. Driving through the West Bank, by the Jordan Valley, was an exciting and rewarding experience, as it passes through stunning landscape and many and varied kibbutzim and bedouin camps, and it cannot be denied that Israel is a breathtakingly beautiful country. My advice if you’re contemplating such a trip is to go for it – don’t listen to the doom-preachers and the nay-sayers, but just keep your wits about you (as you should wherever you are) and an eye on the political situation (and, on an obscure but practical note, it’s worth bearing in mind that debit cards are not accepted anywhere in Israel – not even ATMs. Credit cards and American Express are fine).

I guess for me, the most important outcome of my trip was the realisation that topography and history don’t lie; there was a man called Jesus Christ who actually lived and breathed around two thousand years ago, and it was an incredibly spiritual experience to follow in just a few of his steps. Whatever your opinions on the Christian religion, for me this is unquestionable – some of you may still disagree, a course to which you are completely entitled. But I achieved what I was after and, as I can honestly say after most of my traveling experiences, I think I’m all the better for it.

Any of these images can be ordered by emailing me with requests, quoting the reference number after each picture in the gallery. Prices and sizes available on request.