Author: A Plan To Go

Watching the sun go down from a wide sandy beach was the calm before the frenetic adventurous storm. It was the perfect sunset: multi-hued with a one-masted fishing boat silhouetted against the Indian Ocean.

Full of raging storm water, the canyon offered opportunities to jump and slide from varying heights into swirling pools. Happy with leaping in at heights of 4 metres I tried to recall the wording on my insurance document and drew the line when I was given the chance to jump off a 10 metre cliff.

That evening I stayed at the Moksha hotel. Built on a small footprint so as to avoid removing as little rainforest as possible, this convenient yet isolated hotel rises three storeys and allows guests to have a canopy-eye view of the surrounding forest. There’s a swimming pool in which to cool off in and nearby access to waterfalls, temples and natural rock pools.

A heavy rain storm also met us in the chilly environs of Nuwara Eliya, high in the Sri Lankan mountains. Fortunately there was a festival featuring large brightly-lit lanterns to keep things cheerful, plus the fireplace in my hotel to keeps things warm. That hotel – Jetwing St Andrew’s – is this year marking 150 years since it was built. Heritage is infused throughout its large rooms and cosy public areas.

Thankfully I awoke to sunnier skies and eased into the day with a visit to the Pedro tea factory. In long troughs fresh leaves slowly begin to dry and emit a smell precisely like any other freshly cut foliage. After 24 hours these leaves are then rolled to encourage oxidisation before being transferred to ovens. Once fully dried the tea gets graded and sent in sacks to auction rooms in Colombo.

After enjoying a cup of the freshest tea I could ever hope to have, I met with Miguel, the founder of the Pekoe Trail. This 323km route winds through Sri Lanka’s highlands in 22 stages. We were hiking Stage 22, a scenic path from the tea factory and up beneath the flanks of 2,524m Pidurutalagala, Sri Lanka’s tallest mountain.

It was a challenging 5am start the following morning, but one which was entirely worthwhile for someone who enjoys hiking as much as I do. Travelling by minibus up to the Horton Plains involved a tightly winding road through misty forests. Upon entering the plains we soon began to see herds of Sambar deer, their large black noses pointing interestedly at us through the murk.

My hike up on the plains hovered at around 2,100m. It was cold up here and I was grateful that I’d brought a jacket. As I set off along a trail the weather began to clear and I could more easily see the knotty twists of dense forests huddling in patches among the vast plains.

This was a relatively easy hike with a nice wide trail to follow and few inclines. More challenging hikes exist up here, including up to Sri Lanka’s second and fourth highest peaks. Today I walked to Mini World’s End, a stupendous viewpoint that looked south over Sri Lanka’s highlands. A short way beyond this was World’s End itself, an even higher viewpoint with an 850m drop to the lush valley floor below. Not great with heights, I stood well back from the edge and enjoyed the view of clouds scudding over the forests.

It’s easy to arrange a minibus from Nurawa Eliya to Horton Plains. It’s not necessary to have a guide but they can be very useful in identifying bird calls and animal tracks. If you’re very, very lucky you may even spot a rare leopard up there.

As if to showcase Sri Lanka’s easy-to-access diversity of landscapes, within a couple of hours of my visit to the chilly highlands I was in the more tropical environs surrounding Ella, sipping tea in yet another plantation and dodging legions of leeches. A couple hours more and I was back on the coast, this time beside Yala National Park.

My accommodation tonight was just a couple of miles away from the park’s boundaries and so, unbounded by fences, there was the very real possibility of elephants marching through the hotel’s grounds. Signs warn against going to the beach at and after dusk, with animals posing a risk to guests. I marvelled at a herd of deer passing through the thick forest just beyond the veranda of my luxurious bungalow.

‘Wild’ is a good description for some of the weather I experienced here. It was the start of the monsoon season and it was a thrill to watch a storm move in across the sea and break against the immense floor-to-ceiling windows of the lodge’s restaurant. Such stormy intrusions were, however, brief and it was beneath sunny skies that I ventured into Yala National Park in the hopes of spotting leopards.

No leopards were seen, however, although herds of elephant, troops of monkeys and menacing logs of crocodiles were in abundance. This is a busy park, popular with other 4x4s transporting tourists from watering hole to watering hole. Much more peaceful was nearby Bundala National Park, famous for the vast numbers of bird species (my favourite was the red-faced Painted Stork).

Completing my circuit of highlands and wild parks, I followed the coast to the ancient city of Galle before closing the loop at Colombo.

I couldn’t write this post about Sri Lanka without mentioning the people and the food. Everywhere I went in the country I was met with kindness and smiles. Sri Lanka has in recent years really begun to open up to tourism and, while there may be particularly popular places such as Adam’s Peak, there are plenty more destinations that are equally fascinating and with locals that genuinely welcome visitors.

There is much to recommend about Sri Lanka’s cuisine too. It’s fresh, flavoursome and highly varied. During the ten days I was in the country I tried something different at every meal and didn’t once eat anything that wasn’t delicious. This was a real culinary adventure!

Who I travelled with

This was a press trip with the British Guild of Travel Writers, organised by the Sri Lankan Tourist Board. Our journey was conducted by Blue Lanka Tours and I had Videsh as my guide. Videsh worked incredibly hard on this action-packed itinerary (we often had 17-hour days and more than just the one 5am start!) and his passion for his country was infectious. I can’t wait to go back to Sri Lanka to see more of the country.

Where I stayed

Negombo: Jetwing Beach
Kitulgala: Moksha
Nuwara Eliya: Jetwing St Andrews
Ella: Amba Estate
Yala National Park: Jetwing Jungle Lodge
Galle: Jetwing Lighthouse
Colombo: Jetwing Colombo Seven

Having won an Interrail ticket from the very excellent Rail Europe I now had the challenge of thinking up a route. Turning to fellow bloggers, I remembered this inspirational piece by Solo Travel Story and added the town of Görlitz to my itinerary. I’d never heard of it before; it doesn’t feature much in the British travel press. When it became apparent that this was a very special place I marvelled at how little coverage it gets.

As with so much of Europe what makes an old town or city unique is how unscathed its buildings are following the various violent episodes of the continent’s history. The entire city centre still retains buildings dating back over 500 years. In fact there are over 4000 well-preserved or restored buildings here that were constructed as early as the 1500s, with Gothic, Baroque, Renaissance and Art Nouveau architecture all represented.

This ever-evident history envelops you as you walk along the city’s cobbled streets. There’s the Baroque Brauner Hirsch (Brown Deer) building, first mentioned in 1403, reconstructed in 1722, and named after the statue prominently poking out from the corner. Across the square is the Schönhof, Görlitz’s oldest Renaissance building, with ceilings and wall paintings dating back to the 16th century (the Silesian Museum inside is well worth a visit). It’s very hard to miss the slender Old Town Hall (Rathaus), the tower of which was built in the 16th century and features elaborate clocks plus an audibly roaring lion.

I’ve barely touched on the old buildings that are must-sees, if I continued then this story would be full of architecture (again, do check out Solo Travel Story’s piece for more detail). For now I’m going to continue along the Via Regia – the ancient royal highway that spans 4,500km from Moscow to Santiago de Compostela – down to the Lusatian Neisse river which, at the time of my visit, was heavily swollen by rainwater.

One of the many incredible aspects of the European Union is how countries which not so long ago were at war now seemingly have no border at all. The Lusatian Neisse is the border between Germany and Poland and a wide pedestrianised bridge crosses the river, but apart from some very subtle CCTV on the German side there’s nothing to indicate you’re walking from one country to the next. Long may this be the case, although I know that things are already taking a turn for the worse.

The Polish side of the city is called Zgorzelec and, although it still has some old buildings, there aren’t anywhere near as many as in Görlitz. I recommend strolling along the river to the Czarna Caffka café for generous portions of delicious cakes. Still on the Polish side the imaginatively-named Food Court just to the north of the bridge is a great place to enjoy an al fresco drink while watching the sun set.

Crossing back into Germany affords an excellent view of the Woad House, the origins of which can be traced to the 12th century, as well as Görlitz’s Gothic St Peter’s Church, the largest of its kind in Saxony and completed in 1497. On certain days (see here) at midday there’s a recital featuring the special organ – built in 1703 by a famous Italian organ maker – which can mimic bird song. Have a listen below:

Because of Görlitz’s pristine streets, and because they have consequently attracted myriad movie makers, the city has earned the moniker “Görliwood“. One of my favourite films is The Grand Budapest Hotel and, lo and behold, everywhere I turned in Görlitz I recognised a scene. Wes Anderson and cast spent 10 weeks in 2013 filming here, the hotel itself is the city’s Kaufhaus Görlitz, a splendid early 20th century department story. Hopefully it’ll reopen soon but for now, if you’re a fan like me, you’ll have to peer through the glass doors and slowly come to the realisation that you’re looking at the lobby of the eponymous hotel.

Normally I’d recommend a hotel and restaurant in a post such as this, but as I was travelling solo and on a very strict budget where I stayed and ate may not be to most peoples’ taste. The hotel was the perfectly functional Gästehaus Lisakowski, a pleasant 15-minute walk through Baroque streets to where the main sights of the city are located. The lovely old Turkish man at Ali’s Imbiss kebab place who spoke not only his own language but German too unfortunately didn’t speak a word of English. Despite my terrible German we managed to sufficiently understand one another for me to order a HUGE and delicious meal for less than €9.

If you don’t live in the UK then you may have not noticed many of the effects from Brexit, which was officially enacted five years ago. If you do live in the UK then, if you work in the tourism industry or have travelled abroad since 31 January 2020 then you may have noticed some changes. In no particular order, this is what I, personally, have seen:

• Border waiting times. At either St Pancras or in various airports I’ve noticed longer queues as more checks are now required to leave the UK. When arriving in foreign countries having to now go into non-EU queues has meant longer waiting times (usually because travellers from outside of Europe are subjected to deeper questioning)
• Passport cost. Now every time I enter the EU I get a stamp, because my passport gets stamped on exit, too, that’s half a page of my passport being used for each EU trip. With a 54-page UK passport costing £100.50, that works out as an additional £0.93p expense per trip
• Time in Europe. I’d long planned to spend a year or so living in Europe, and had found somewhere to live in April 2016. Then Brexit happened. Now it’s become financially impossible to live in most of the EU and I have to be vigilant for how long I spend there so as not to go over my 90 days in 180 day allowance
• Currency cost. Since the Brexit referendum was first announced in May 2015 the GBP£ has devalued against the € by about 13%. Holding a currency that has weakened that much in just a few years has made travelling to the Eurozone noticeably more expensive
• Health insurance. I’m no longer eligible for a free European Health Insurance Card (EHIC). Although I can get a Global Health Insurance Card (GHIC) this, unlike the EHIC, does not cover Norway, Iceland, Liechtenstein, or Switzerland
• Since Brexit was enacted I have got a dog. Before Brexit I could get a pet passport – a relatively simple process – but now taking Bounty out of the UK will involve an Animal Health Certificate, a more convoluted (and costly) process

In summary: for me there is nothing to celebrate on this, the fifth anniversary of the implementation of Brexit and there seems to be zero political will to rectify the situation despite overwhelming evidence that the British public isn’t happy with the vast distance that’s been placed between us and the EU.

Somehow I’d managed to find a very good cruise deal. And then I contacted Kerry at Cruise.co.uk and she managed to get me an even better deal. £363 per person for a balcony cabin on an eight-day cruise. With food and energy costs it was almost cheaper to go on this holiday than it was to stay at home.

Southampton is a fun port to cruise from and, if ever you do depart from here, I heartily recommend spending at least one night in the city before boarding. I’ve even extolled its virtues for a popular US cruise magazine. There’s plenty to see as you sail away, such as the dock from where Titanic sailed, the edge of the New Forest, and the massive Fawley refinery. I was mostly looking to see if MSC Preziosa had been connected to Southampton’s shoreside power, so that it wouldn’t be running its highly-polluting engine. Happily I saw that, yes, there was the connection.

Some time, during that first night, we sailed far into the Solent and out beyond the English Channel into the high waves of the North Sea. The first full day was a sea day. Preziosa powered through the water while smaller ships (without cruise ship stabiliser systems) endured waves crashing over their decks. This was a good opportunity to get some writing done, on a cabin sofa that was stained, and marked with cigarette burns. In the ship bars there were children everywhere. There was a ‘library’, but this consisted of a single shelf, bare except for about a dozen dog-eared books.

For relaxation there was a choice of indoor hot tubs, filled with children, or outdoor hot tubs, which can’t have been above the 37°C the signs claimed them to be. Considering that’s body temperature it wasn’t the most relaxing of experiences, but kinda fun in the rain.

Rain turned to snow in Hamburg, but luckily we enjoyed most of that port day without any precipitation. It was when we were in the truly amazing Miniatur Wunderland that the snow hit. The return walk along the river, through the Old Elbe Tunnel and the dull warehouses beyond was made all the prettier by blanket of white.

MSC is an Italian cruise line but the food on board is severely lacking in that Italian flair. There’s a huge buffet area on the 14th deck (not so good when the ship’s rocking) and a main restaurant on the 5th and 6th decks, which has much the same quality of food but served by always-friendly wait staff. Nevertheless, there was always something OK to eat, the curries in the “Ethnic Foods” section being by far the best.

Zeebrugge is sold as the port for Bruges, just a short transfer away. Having already been to Bruges a couple of times we prioritised taking the Coastal Tram, second longest tram journey in the world, which stretched 42 miles from Knokke (near the Dutch border) to De Panne (near the French border; Belgium isn’t a huge country). I had fairly high expectations about this route, which were very much exceeded when it passes just metres from the huge beaches along this coast. Brief visits were made to pretty De Haan, ugly Ostend and -because we had a few hours to spare afterwards – the chocaholic’s heaven of Bruges.

For some reason the route doubled back on itself to Rotterdam. I like Rotterdam. I’ve written appreciatively about Rotterdam. Everyone I spoke with on the ship about this city had only good things to say about it. Cruise here, whether on the ocean or the Maas (aka Rhine) River and you’ll be docked smack bang in the centre.

Rotterdam also offers shoreside power but Preziosa did not connect to it, instead engine fumes filled our cabin to the extent that I could not bear to stay in it. MSC fail badly when it comes to environmental responsibility, as evidenced by their D+ grade on the Friend’s of the Earth’s Cruise Ship Report Card. I’m almost entirely certain that, despite us not wanting them to be, our towels were replaced twice a day every day. The cruise line didn’t respond to me when I asked why the ship hadn’t hooked up to shoreside power in Rotterdam.

Another wave-tastic sea day before arrival into Le Havre. Having once worked as a marketer in the cruise industry I know that this port is described thusly on itineraries: “Paris (Le Havre)”. Paris is, in fact at least a three hour transfer away, one way. We had a generous 12 hours in Le Havre, which would have meant that anyone that did take this excursion would have had less than six hours in the capital city. We chose, instead, to visit charming Honfleur, a 45-minute bus ride south.

OK, so, we were paying less than £50/day for this cruise. I wasn’t expecting anything special, but MSC could have paid just a little more attention to food prep in the main dining rooms. It could have designated at least one bar for adults only. I was amazed that most of the hand sanitiser dispensers were empty. How quickly the pandemic has been forgotten, and how quickly norovirus could spread.

There were a couple of nights with excellent acrobatic entertainment. I don’t begrudge the indoor pool and hot tub area being inundated with children. The staff was wonderful. Considering the price, it wasn’t terrible value for money. But it was hard not to think of MSC as a Ryanair cruise line with Wetherspoon’s food.

Another birthday, another section of the Thames Path to hike. This time, because I’ve gradually walked closer to home, I won’t be staying anywhere overnight but instead doing just a one-day hike. In 2022 I started in Kemble, Gloucestershire and ended at Oxford, then, later that year, I reversed direction and followed the path from Reading to Oxford. In 2023 I walked from Reading to Windsor. Now it’s time for the 20.5 mile Thames Path section from Windsor to Hampton.

Windsor to Hampton

It’s about an 80-minute journey from my home to Windsor, I set off early so that I could enjoy a breakfast treat at Greggs. I was glad to see that the river was in exactly the same place I’d left it last year, and that, although it was very full, it wasn’t currently flooding. October is a perilously rainy time of year to be walking beside a river in the UK.

No more than 20 minutes from the bustle of Windsor the river curves in a magnificently wide arc and I’m treated to a rear view of the famous castle (in which lives by far the most expensive royal family in the world). I’m now aware that the rurality of previous sections is well behind me, my ears are constantly filled with the sounds of roads, and of airplanes landing at – or taking off from – busy Heathrow.

Despite the noise this remains a very pretty walk, with the river widening ever more and willow trees dipping their branches into the current. I’ve seen more rugby fields than football fields along the Thames Path, I think that’s going to change the closer I get to London.

The least enjoyable part of today’s walk is when the path dips away from the river and hikers are forced to walk through the edge of Datchet. Signs disappear and dangerous road crossings are necessary. I was grateful to turn my back on dangerously speeding drivers, and to follow the path back to the Thames.

Now directly under Heathrow’s flight path I arrived into Old Windsor. On the opposite riverbank the gardens of expensive houses rolled all the way to the water. From the Thames Path there’s little sign of the ‘old’ in ‘Old Windsor’, nevertheless I have an affection for this place because nearby is the dog’s home where we first met – then brought home – our little dog Bounty.

Although you’ll find no evidence of it today, the next section of today’s walk, Runnymede, is where in 1215 Magna Carta was signed. This document (and the various copies of it) declared that the king and his government were not above the law. Amazing then that, 810 years later, there are parts of the world which are reversing this freedom.

Although the atmosphere of Runnymede is somewhat ruined by the busy road running through it, the Thames and its path thankfully dip away into tranquillity, albeit briefly. Now it passes beneath the M25 motorway and now I feel as though I’m officially within the boundaries of London.

Next: Staines-Upon-Thames, not a place I previously thought would be particularly attractive, but the riverfront is very pretty. The Thames seems to beautify everywhere it passes through. When it meanders into a town it’s as if a special guest is visiting, and the best buildings and bridges are put out on show.

If you look at the Thames Path on a map you may see that, from this section onwards, it’s surrounded by suburbia. Thankfully, as I walk along the bank, there’s little sign of roads and buildings, which are mostly hidden by trees. At Shepperton I enjoyed a late lunch in the excellent – and very busy – Ferry Coffee Shop. As the name suggests, this is the point at which a small ferry can be taken across the river to continue along the Thames Path on the other side. Unfortunately, because the river is somewhat swollen, the ferry isn’t available today (it’s a notoriously unreliable service and costs £3.50).

Fortunately there’s an alternative, if somewhat longer and less pretty route. After walking beside a road for 20minutes and then over a particularly ugly road bridge at Lower Halliford I’m riverside once again. From this point the river runs straight with not a single turn until just after Sunbury-on-Thames.

This being the end of October the sun is dipping below the horizon before 5pm. I’m therefore glad to see, across the river, a bright red London bus. Soon the long stone bridge at Hampton is visible. Here the Thames feels particularly wide, such a contrast with its humble beginnings.

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Trip details

Total length: roughly 20.4 miles
Total walking time: 6 hours
Trains to Windsor: from London Paddington via Slough, taking 31 minutes
Trains from Hampton Court: to London Waterloo, a 37-minute journey

Turkestan was once a very important Silk Road City. Timur ordered the construction of the mausoleum here in 1389, in honour of poet Ahmed Yasawi. Locals can make three visits here in lieu of a pilgrimage to Mecca. Not far away is the ruined city of Sauran, located in the vast Steppe. In short, Turkestan has a lot going for it.

And then, in 2018, they built the Karavansary Complex, which, in my opinion, vastly increased Turkestan’s pull factor.

The mausoleum

I absolutely understand the urge to restore once-grand buildings that have fallen into disrepair. But in many instances restorations have been so thorough that it’s not possible to see what’s original and what is new. The mausoleum of Khoja Ahmed Yasawi, however, has been left relatively untouched over the centuries. The bricks and tiles you see today are the same bricks and tiles that were made in nearby Sauran or decorated by artisans from various Persian cities.

For all the splendour of the building’s exterior there isn’t much to see inside. So, let’s focus on those gorgeous blue domes, one of which has aesthetically-pleasing tubular lines billowing from top to bottom and decorated in such a way that reminds me of the finest silk rugs. The size of the mausoleum is also impressive: an immense 38.7 metres high. With few tourists around it was easy to just sit and gaze in awe.

The lost city

An hour north-west from the centre of Turkestan the ruins of Sauran rise from the interminable Steppe. This, too, was once an important city. Founded in the 6th century CE its leaders cleverly submitted to whichever marauder passed through, thus being spared by various khans and conquerors. They were also smart enough to construct channels from the nearby Syr Darya river, putting them underground so that the water wouldn’t evaporate in the hot Kazakh sun.

Just as the river began to meander further away, so, too, did the Silk Road, bringing an end to Sauran in 1515. Visitors (of whom we were the only ones) can walk around the decrepit walls, which look as though they’re slowly melting back into the ground. It’s peaceful and atmospheric place. Oh yes, there are turtles too.

The resort

730 miles from the nearest sea (Caspian – the Aral Sea doesn’t count any more), in a place that receives just 37.9cm of rain annually, luxury hotel company Rixos decided to build a massive fake waterway. It’ll take you several minutes to walk from lake beside the giant golden dome – inside of which is a “flying theatre” showcasing Kazakh culture – along the long canal to an even larger lake surrounded by the domed and dun-coloured buildings of a luxury family hotel. This, then, is the magnificently tacky Karavansary.

Sadly we didn’t stray far from our hotel (Hampton Inn) for dinner and only had two nights to sample the cuisine. On both nights we made the mistake of going to Karavansary, with only the meagre portion of horsemeat plov served by Wow Plov proving barely adequate. No matter, though, for the real highlight of this place is the free show performed every night on the main lake. Nine characters from an ancient Kazakh story act out scenes on electrically-powered boats against a fake crenelated castle background. In the middle of the lake sky-high water jets gush and flames erupt in vague syncopation with the story.

The conclusion

It was absolutely worth going out of our way to visit Turkestan. The city and its nearby attractions are worth two days of your time, any more than that and you’ll run out of things to do. From Turkestan you could push north to see Baikonur (although that’s not so easy nowadays), or do as we did and head south east to Taraz and Kyrgyzstan.

It’s not currently possible to go inside the main section of the mausoleum due to (sensitive) restoration work and the choice of hotels and restaurants isn’t particularly great. There are also, apparently, excavations of Old Turkestan – once the centre of the ancient caravan trade – but for some reason it’s not possible to get in and see them.

The Karavansaray show happens every night at 8pm. Perhaps I was all domed-out after Uzbekistan and so didn’t fully appreciate the mausoleum but, embarrassingly, the show and the fake waterway it was performed on turned out to be my highlight.

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Turkestan transport and hotels

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Pushing through the door of an ancient pub in some remote part of England I catch a few brief glances. I’m not from ’round these parts, I have hiking boots on my feet and a weary but satisfied look on my face. My bulging backpack is full of kit I’ve slowly removed as the day warmed up, here I am now wearing a t-shirt on a cool Autumnal day. This is a timeless moment: the mysterious traveller arriving after dark, his route and motives unknown. What a thrill it is to be joining those who, through the centuries, have been that mysterious traveller.

No matter where I’ve hiked in the world I’m followed by that age-old satisfaction of arriving at a place on my own two feet and finding lodging. Whether it’s a teahouse high in the Himalayas, a logwood lodge far along a Tatras mountain trail, or a 17th Century pub somewhere along the River Thames, the feeling is exactly the same.

Being able to hike to the places I’ve been is a privilege I’ve enjoyed through relatively good health and ability. I am always very happy to see where those of different abilities have also been accommodated. Access to this planet’s spectacular scenery should be made available to all, wherever possible and in whichever way(s) that avoids doing harm to the landscape.

“Slow travel” has, for good reason, become a popular phrase in recent years. Travel doesn’t get much slower than hiking. It’s a wonderful way to appreciate Earth’s delightful little details. It’s also – most of the time – a very peaceful activity. No motors, no wind rushing in your ears, only Nature’s restful soundtrack.

The satisfaction of looking far below to where I started, or recalling the long and winding trail I took to get here more than compensates for the muscle aches. At the mercy of whatever the weather may throw at me and unpredictable trail conditions, I overcame it all and had a damn good time while doing so.

After a night of recuperating with good food and a soft bed I’m out soon after dawn the next day. All I need is on my back, I know how the trail looks on a map but the scenery will be an unending theatre of surprises. Somewhere, at the end of this path, there’s a dark village with a softly-lit pub ready to welcome a mysterious traveller.

Armenia was to be the third country in our tour of the Caucasus, when I mentioned we were visiting here on a travel writing/travel PR site I was approached by a lovely PR person and asked if I’d like someone to show us around. While caveating that I may not be able to get a commission straight away I happily accepted the invite, and I’m very glad I did.

For two days we enjoyed an exhausting and extensive tour of the country, starting with a drive to the start of the Bezoar Goat Trail. Located in the dry and dusty canyons of the Vayots Dzor region the trail was very easy to follow, our experienced enhanced significantly by the guide’s expertise in all things flora, fauna and history. Passing a centuries-old khachkar – upright slabs of stone into which intricate religious designs are carved – was our first indication of the wealth of ancient sights to be seen here. Eyes were further widened when we spotted, far below, the 13th-century Noravank Monastery.

After the short hike we were driven to the monastery which contains two churches and a chapel. I stood in the gloomy interior of Surb Astvatsatsin and thought of all who had stood where I was over the 685 since it was completed.

The monastery was far from the oldest sign of civilisation in the Amaghu Valley. At the entrance to the valley is Areni-1 cave where, in 2008, the earliest known shoe was discovered, then the following year archaeologists uncovered the oldest humanoid brain, then in 2010 excavations began on a winery dating back to around 4100BC. Yes, humans have been making wine for 6,000 years.

It’s a surprisingly large cave, with boardwalks laid down for visitors to easily walk from one chamber to the next and peer down into the large clay jars in which grapes were once fermented. This whet our appetites for a wine tasting which we enjoyed at the nearby Old Bridge Winery where we sat beside floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the vines that provided the fruits we now sampled in delicious wine form. Thankfully a generous tray laden with a variety of nibbles helped overcome any tipsiness. After a tour of the winery’s production facilities we returned to Yerevan, passing long lines of military defences.

On our second evening in Yerevan we headed to the Cascade Monument; 572 white marble steps 50 metres wide. Having climbed 302 metres up the steps we could see across the city and all the way to Mt Ararat, the 5,137m dormant volcano that is such a strong part of Armenian identity and yet which was taken by the Soviets and handed to Turkey.

Yerevan may not be architecturally spectacular but the grand buildings surrounding Republic Square are well worth a look, not least because here you will find a huge dancing fountain show. I recommend at least one visit to Tavern Yerevan for the local dishes and loud performances by Armenian singers and musicians.

Back on the road the next day for an early visit to Sevanavank Monastery, set on a small hill above 5,000 km2 Lake Sevan. Once on an island the 1,150-year-old monastery found itself on a peninsula when the Soviets began draining the lake in the 1930s (intervention since then has seen water levels slowly recover). Our guide pointed out a khachkar in Surp Arakelots Church which has etched into it the face of someone from Central Asia. The theory is that this was done to appease Mongol invaders in the 1200s.

There’s a scene in the movie Who Killed Roger Rabbit where the characters drive through a tunnel from Los Angeles to Toontown, the scene changing from real life to animation as they emerge. Driving through the Dilijan-Sevan Tunnel felt similar to this, entering in a somewhat arid and treeless landscape and emerging into the lush, hilly environs of Tavush province.

Arriving at Lake Parz we were met with the soft swish of breeze in boughs and a very small attempt at a holiday park on the side of the tree-lined lake. Having learned that we’re fast walkers our knowledgeable guide set off at speed along a well-marked trail, a small part of the impressive Trans-Caucasian Trail which runs for about 3,000km through parts of Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia. This section of trail is in the Dilijan National Park and rises through forests, over ridges and down to a village called Gosh.

After stopping to admire the 12th-century Goshavank monastery – which has been well-preserved over the years but not to the extent where signs of age have been hidden away – we lunched in “I can’t believe it’s not Switzerland” Dilijan town before zooming back through that tunnel and deep into rural Gegharkunik Province.

What better way to end a trip than with a cheese tasting, accompanied by more of that lovely Armenian wine? The Mikayelyan Family Farm was set up in 2012 b an ex-Ministry of Finance employee and a biologist. Together they invested in a creamery set underground and eventually, with a co-operative of other local families – amassed a dairy herd of 40 cows. That underground facility feels like a modern concrete bunker, it’s a necessary piece of architecture to produce and preserve the fine cheeses and meats they make here.

After an entertaining talk about the farm’s cheeses and cheesemaking process we were led back out into the sunlight and into a covered area where we sampled several different cheeses, all of them delicious but my favourite being something very similar to a parmesan.

Thanks to our highly skilled guide and driver we had managed to see so much of this incredible country in just two very full days. Now, though, it was time to return to Georgia, a five hour drive which took much longer because we hired a driver so that we could stop off and see yet more monasteries.

UNESCO has been very busy in Armenia judging by all of the listed sites here. One of the most famous is the Haghpat Monastery complex, built between the 10th and 13th centuries and containing several of those dark grey stone structures. The Cathedral of Surb Nshan is the highlight here. Constructed some time around 970 it has a wealth of recesses, carvings and frescoes.

Along the road to Georgia we also stopped at Odzun Church, an astonishing 1,300 years old. It’s a very peaceful place and we didn’t see a single other tourist. Akthala Monastery was far busier, perhaps because it had such a dramatic setting on top of some very high cliffs. No wonder it doubled as a fortress, albeit one not strong enough to old back Timur’s forces who’d maurauded here all the way from Uzbekistan.

Few countries have surpassed my expectations as much as Armenia did. It’s such an easy country to get around (if you have a driver) and, for a country listed at #138 in size, packs in such a massively diverse range of scenery, such a long and rich history, and such a wealth of culture. I would very much like to return one day.

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Getting to Armenia

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There are over 500 Amtrak stations in the contiguous USA and 13 served by the Alaska Railroad, with only the latter offering truly wild locations. But, when you step off that comfy, civilised train and into the sort of destination where you look up and are greeted by perfectly dark skies and silence, these remote train stations will make you feel as if you’ve arrived somewhere very special.

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