Category: Germany
A year with much city hopping around Ireland, Switzerland and elsewhere
3rd November 2025 While you can plan as much as you like, a year never turns out quite as you hope. For me, that has been the story of 2025. A hoped for trip to Canada could not happen, necessitating a booking cancellation. The need to get more freelance work in a tough market simply weighed on everything else. Having addressed that need, it is only now that I can begin to look ahead again, even though a busy work life takes from that a bit.
This also got in the way of wilderness wandering, which meant my getaways involved cities most of the time, even if adjacent countryside also saw my footfall there. Also, booking a place to stay forces you to get going more than dangling the prospect of a day trip before you in circumstances like what I have experienced this year. That more likely made my excursions urban than they otherwise might have been.
Cork Residencies
January began in Cork, Ireland’s second city because of my spending Christmas there in somewhere that I have as an Irish base. My search for freelance work had begun without my realising the arduous road ahead of me. Otherwise, it was time to haul myself outside around such places as Blarney and Kinsale when a certain torpor could prevail otherwise. Before I left for the UK in the middle of January, a property matter was set in place that would close later in the year.
April would see me return, first for a weekend visit, searching for items that I needed to send to someone else and recovering after another discussion about new work came to nothing. The recovery was helpful, while the search remained fruitless in the interval before I returned for an Easter residency that allowed me to visit Cobh and Kinsale again, among other things. Then, my time was spent away from other city landmarks like its English Market, the north side’s Shandon area, University College Cork, Mardyke or Fitzgerald’s Park. Other things were on my mind.
A funeral was the cause of my returning at the end of July. Apart from saying goodbye to an elderly relative, things were otherwise upbeat thanks to my commencing a new contract and getting out in the sunshine for some pleasant walks around by Blackrock Castle and Cobh on consecutive evenings; this is an area that is much influenced by its harbour and estuary. However, it felt too short a rendezvous, ensuring that a return is in mind as soon as a space comes up for such a venture.
Swiss Getaways
May brought a near miss with getting work organised and that left me feeling morose. Having felt on the fringes for too long, a conference trip to Geneva came not before time, even if it may have scuppered that earlier opportunity. These just in time searches are very fragile things, as I was to discover in June, albeit without any real consequences that time aide from feeling saddened at having to choose something else.
Sunlit evenings in Geneva ensured that I became sated with what the city offered, along with some complementary weekend sampling along Via Jacobi from Coppet back to Geneva. Landmarks familiar from a stay in September 2015 like Jet d’Eau, the banks of the Rhône and Lake Geneva were again frequented, while the cobbled streets of the old town climb to the Cathédrale St-Pierre offered new perspectives. Later that week, a certain amount of repetition aroused a need for novelty that propelled me to Bern for a glorious evening of strolling that did me a lot of good as I traipsed its loop of the River Aare, another first since September 2015.
Other prospects like Zurich and Lucerne appealed during my time in Geneva, until I saw the travel times were longer than I fancied. They offered a platform for a bank holiday getaway before which things began to look up for me a little. Lucerne was where I spent the better day of the trip, leaving Zurich to be explored in mixed weather. That limited photographic activity, yet it did not stop me embarking on a return sailing on Zurichsee that got me as far as Rapperswil, where I spent a good deal of time strolling around there and Pfäffikon under seemingly improving skies.
Since Zurich left an itch to scratch, a return ensued as May ended and June began. Hot sunshine was the enduring weather challenge this time around, even if it did little to stop me strolling along the shores of Zurichsee after following the banks of the Limmat or even along the banks of the River Rhine in Basel with that striking proximity to France and Germany.
Additional evening ambling around Zurich after returning from the latter led me into that city's nearby woods. There, I found an abundance of quietude that was healing, a refuge from the pervading uncertainty in my life. It was much needed and would have reached deeper into my psyche if my work life had been going better. It was quite a counterpoint to all activity around each city's Münster.
Passage through Paris was an element in all this journeying too, albeit far more briefly than during my travels in 2024. The first time was as part of a train journey conveying me all the way from Geneva to Macclesfield, while the second would have been the Zurich equivalent except for its expense. Then, it was Paris Charles de Gaul airport that was my exit point from continental Europe, a much quicker journey, albeit not one that was without its occasions for relaxation either.
British Trials, Solace and Celebration
While the Irish and Swiss segments of this piece have a certain chronology to them, even with Irish trips bookending the Swiss ones, the British portion does a spot of time hopping around each of them. First, there was the January return to the UK, after which I attended to numerous other matters that lay outstanding, possibly affecting my search for new freelancing work.
When meetings with a potential client came to nothing, I decided to break things up with weekend trips to Edinburgh and London. These mixed up revisiting old haunts with seeing new places while I rebooted my search for work. It was going to be out in the sunshine rather than being downbeat at home. My work strategy was getting a shake up too, which set the scene for coming months. Success would take time to come, meaning that there would be another trip to London early in June to attend a conference before everything came together.
Yet Another Scottish Incursion
When it did, there was cause to celebrate, albeit quietly. Before commencing a new contract, I headed north to Inverness, ticking off one last item from my excursion list for my time between contracts. It was in my head for the autumn of 2024 and might have happened if I could lure myself away from Ireland for longer during that September.
The ideas were rural in the main: Fionn Bheinn near Achnacarry, the Great Glen Way between Drumnadrochit and Inverness and the South Loch Ness Trail from Foyers or Dores back to Inverness. In the end, I opted for the first two, partly because of having better public transport options.
Even so, there was an evening spent in the highland city itself, pottering around the Ness Islands and passing Inverness Castle. On the trail back from Drumnadrochit, I briefly encountered the Caledonian Canal, though I did not spend as much time along its towpaths as on a previous visit as 2023 transitioned into 2024.
Eastern Quests
Norfolk, Suffolk and Cambridgeshire drew me away from home in July at a time when going east meant gaining cooler weather. This again was a mix of urban and rural, with much traipsing by the orienting River Wensum as well as a visit to Whitlingham Country Park. The medieval sights were surveyed too, especially around its cathedral close and its quiet green space within the city. There was time to traipse between Brandon and Thetford, shadowing the Little Ouse and passing through The Brecks under ever clouding skies. Those dented my brief visit to Ely and denied me photographic satisfaction there, ensuring a reprise two months later.
Though Ely was my target, I stayed in Cambridge because of its better accommodation options. A short train journey was all it took for me to see Ely's cathedral on a sunnier day, its unusual lantern tower drew a share of my attention before I pottered out of the city while skies broke over my head. Some rural ambling shadowing the Great Ouse showed me just how much of a landmark those cathedral towers make when viewed from the level, drained ground around the city. A return to its heart sated my photographic desires before another stroll by the river took me back to the train station under again clouding skies. Time had been called on my visit without causing any umbrage in my mind.
There was time to revisit Cambridge, too, to see and photograph different sights before I left for home. Advancing cloud cover again spurred me on to the train station after a sunny morning of ambling around the Backs, among other places. Different places were open compared with a previous encounter from years before. The River Cam was busy with punts and I left them to their way. Pembroke College saw me tarrying a while before I continued on a journey that was ending a sequence of summer jaunts, mainly urban but at times rural too.
A Southwestern Incursion
There was some time hopping above too: the two eastern excursions encapsulated a first trip to Devon and Cornwall. Again, cities pervaded with time spent around Exeter and Plymouth. Penzance became the Cornwall terminus for my rambling, allowing me to see the county's scenery from a passing train. While Exeter's cathedral and its surroundings clearly were a draw, they did not keep me away from the Riverside Valley Park, bounded both by the River Exe and the Exeter Canal. Exmouth was another location that lure, causing me to wander the coast a little too much for my own comfort given the advancing end of the hours of daylight. Nevertheless, this dalliance with the South West Coast Path did not result in ruin either, and Penzance became another, though my previous adventuring had tamed designs on an out and back trot to St. Michael's Mount. Thus, I made it home without any misstep.
Looking Ahead and Looking Back
There are upcoming business trips to Germany ahead of me, so the city hopping is not over for this year. Mainz is to be the location for a client meeting, with Frankfurt's airport proving essential for convenient travel. Because of the nature of the trip and the time of year, exploring will be at a premium, though. This also would be my first-ever overnight stay in Germany, only for the second likely to soon follow it: a conference trip to Hamburg. There, my time will be more my own, so more may come of it, though uncertainty pervades those possibilities.
A return to Cork for a longer spell is in my mind too, even if one cannot hope for too much when the hours of darkness are longer; an Easter stay would be better on that score. Beyond that, another conference could draw me to Italy for the first time. The venue is Milan in a time when hours of daylight are more amenable to personal city explorations. Since this is quite a time away yet, plans are not at all firm at this stage.
On reflection, there was a lot of temporal toing and froing in the above, unlike any rivers that flowed in only one direction. That was the sacrifice caused by focussing on locations to provide a thread holding together the whole account. Returning to the hydrological theme, it may have made the account tidal in places.
Another theme was what eventually became a successful search for freelance work, one whose busyness perhaps keeps me away from gallivanting as much the technological novelties that are coming my way. Reading is happening in parallel and something may stick there too, even if it feels far too premature to be considering summer holidaying plans. Last year's hubris does sit so well now.
Incidental ambles
18th January 2018 The start of a new year can be a useful time to take stock of life. January can be a month that some find too quiet, but it has its uses, as I am finding out for myself. A current career break means that I have added occasion to think over what I would like to do for a living. After five years of family bereavements followed by responsibilities added through inheritance, there is plenty of reason for this. What had not been obvious to me is that my last job was not a match and the experience left its mark, one that needs to be overcome.
Throughout all of this, I am not forgetting that I am an explorer at heart. There has been time to catch up on reading and I now have my fill of travel writing, so I will not be lured into book purchases as easily as before. More discernment could be the way of things for me, and that cannot be so bad when finances need to be kept in check during times like this hiatus from work.
Also, I have been travelling around England and Wales collecting ideas for walking trips like Roseberry Topping and Pumlumon Fawr. Surveying the countryside about the latter brought me the added benefit of a short if muddy stroll around Llangurig. Visiting nearby Rhayader is another thought, and a short stay in Aberystwyth could facilitate more than initially had come to mind. Other parts of the Welsh River Wye are ripe for exploring too, and the hills of the Black Mountain on the western side of the Brecon Beacons could be another tempting idea.
City visits to Edinburgh and Cardiff have come to pass. In the middle of the latter, the banks of the River Taff offered an oasis of calm, with Llandaff Cathedral feeling as if it is in the countryside rather than where it is. Bute Park was another delight that makes me wonder why it took so long for me to make an independent visit to the place, and there is Cardiff Castle if I wanted to include that as part of a return visit. There is plenty there for cyclists too, and I am not surprised that bicycle hire is available.
Those city wanderings remind me that there have been times during the last few years when energy for more strenuous outings has not been as readily available. Edinburgh has featured quite a few times, and there are regular haunts nearer my home in Macclesfield. Knutsford's Tatton Park, Disley's Lyme Park together with Macclesfield's Tegg's Nose Country Park and Dane's Moss Nature Reserve all have been places where quick visits offered respite from life's tumult when enthusiasm for longer trips was not to be found. The same could be said for more urban spots like Buxton, Chester, Sheffield and even Manchester. Anywhere where a coffee can be enjoyed away from home has had its uses.
Strolls on my own doorstep like circuits taking in Prestbury all had their uses when my head needed clearing, like on Christmas Eve during my first Christmas spent in Macclesfield. That was a stormy affair, as much in my mind as it was out of doors. When a brighter interlude offered, it did not need much persuasion for me to head out on a longer round that linked Tegg’s Nose, the Saddle of Kerridge and the White Nancy. It became just the breather that I needed at the time.
The last few months have been as much about exorcising hurtful memories as anything else. That included the past Christmas and New Year period, when it felt more normal than others. Trips to Tatton Park, Manchester and Lincoln all broke up the flow and I also got learning that camping stoves should be used out of doors too, a misadventure that I have no relish for repeating.
Getting past that was like everything else in life in recent times. 2017 became a year when I lightened some of life's load, so I need to think ahead now. Getting an enjoyable and fulfilling work life is one thing, and my zest for exploring countryside continues. Overseas excursions could restart yet since I am making my way through Kev Reynolds' Walking in the Alps at the moment and there is his The Swiss Alps, The Pyrenees and Trekking in the Alps after that. That lot should keep me going for a while yet, and I am not overlooking what hill country is nearer to hand either.
Thoughts on recalling distant memories
30th January 2016 Elsewhere on here, I went about recalling a trip to France from my schooldays and found out just how much had faded. Life's events have a habit of doing that to do as I have found over the past few years. Stress at work, worries about family and bereavement are all enough displace what went before and anything else that may have been going on at the time. It is just as well that I have an archive of photos for stirring my memories and some recent reading reminded me of this and how important it can be to look after those reminders.
Reading Patrick Leigh Fermor's accounts of his youthful excursion from Britain to Istanbul (or Constantinople as he called it) over the last few months amazed me with the powers of recall until the I came to last of the trilogy. This received posthumous publication following editing by Artemis Cooper (I too know what it is like to posthumous editing since I have website where my father’s writings on history are to be found and there is more to add to what already is there) and feels incomplete compared with what went before. In fact, it appears that Leigh Fermor often struggled with it only to have to stop due to the lack of inspiration. Those fruitless efforts must have led to the pained passages about the loss of diaries before the rediscovery of one got the whole narrative flowing again until it stops right in the middle of a sentence. Excerpts from contemporary diary entries bring matters to a close at Mount Athos in Greece with scarcely much said about the planned destination for his journey. It is not for nothing that the book got the name The Broken Road and, though initially disappointed by the lack of complete closure, I now reckon that the incomplete feel has more to say to me. That is not to say that the urge to do some editing of my did not seize me from time to time and I might have been tempted to get around what was blocking Leigh Fermor by adding in more of the times he spent in Romania and Greece afterwards with references to the last stages of the journey that took him to those places in the first place. It may not have finished things like a more conventional narrative but I could see something like that fitting together better.
The earlier books are more polished with the loss of a diary In Germany doing little to break up the narrative of A Time of Gifts, the first part of the journey that shadows the Rhine and the Danube before it stops on the Hungarian border. The same could be said of Between the Woods and the Water, which took up the story until the Iron Gates, and a rediscovery of a diary helped to to drive along nicely the writing of that. Hair-raising escapades litter the whole story and I suppose that meeting memorable characters helped ensure the survival of memories as much as retrieving a previously lost diary. Those escapades hint at a gregarious and inexperienced youth who charmed his way across Europe with his good company ensuring kindness along the way, a counterpoint to my own more cautious self. The observations of the cultures encountered along the way were as insightful as the descriptions of the histories that were learned from many a private library. As I was reading, I was being introduced both to a lost world and a part of Europe of which I scarcely knew very much at all.
It is twentieth century history that is to blame for that with the rise of communism creating an Iron Curtain across Europe that only fell in 1989 to make the 1990's a largely hopeful time in which to be living. Leigh Fermor was encountering the upheavals of history too on his journey. The aftermath of World War I was being felt from Austria eastwards. The Nazis too were on the ascendant at the time and Leigh Fermor after all passed through a Germany not long under Hitler's rule with news of the assassination of Austria's prime minister emerging later. Amazingly, these worrying developments did little to intrude on the good moments of the journey and became a contrast to what World War II was to do later on. The war and its aftermath took its toll on Leigh Fermor's situation since he lost access to diaries that he left in Romania while he returned to Britain to play his part. At times in his tale, he wonders what happened to the friends that he made on his crossing of Europe after the rise of communism and they already had lost much because of land reform before that.
Nevertheless, his being on foot for much of the journey caught my attention since that is my favoured means of exploration aside from cycling. The latter was never of a mode of travel for Leigh Fermor while episodes of travel in motor cars and on trains litter the narrative as well as on horseback across the plains of Hungary but it is those stretches where he is walking alone where the most acute observations were made. Rivers were followed and mountains encountered, much like my own wanderings, albeit in countries that I never have visited like the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Czech, Slovakia Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Greece and Turkey. Even with my new-found taste for going beyond the shores of Britain and Ireland, some of these may continue to be surveyed from afar while others like Germany and Austria are on my wish list.
Overseas escapades
15th September 2015 After playing with the prospect earlier in the year, I made good some of my designs on overseas explorations. July saw me head to Iceland for a few days. An early morning arrival allowed plenty of time for exploring Reykjavík before a day when I embarked on an excursion that took in Þingvellir National Park, Geysir and the enormous Gullfoss. On my last full day there, I ventured as far as Landmannalaugar for a day walk in its striking hill country. The weather may not have played ball then like it did on other days, but the whole visit was a good introduction to Iceland for a first-time visitor, and there are other possibilities to be undertaken if I get more brave.
Alpine ambitions also were partially sated with an elongated weekend spent in Switzerland. My base was Geneva, and another morning arrival allowed me to stroll about the place to get my bearings. A trip to Bern followed on the only totally dull day of those that I spent in the country. There were day walks in Alpine surroundings too, with one around Zermatt allowing plentiful views of the Matterhorn under blue skies. That was followed by a journey to Grindelwald that allowed a little taste of how Bern appears in sunshine on the way there. From Grindelwald, I trotted up to Kleine Scheidegg with the Eiger steadfastly remaining cloaked in cloud. Others were on show, so I was not at all disappointed. When the altitude surprised me with its effects after walking at similar heights around Zermatt unperturbed, I was happy with slow progress on the final stretch to Kleine Scheidegg's train station. With clouds overhead and a certain chill in the air, I did not dally, either. After gaining around 1,000 metres in height, I was surprised that my legs were more willing than my lungs, so that is a lesson for the future.
Both of these punctuated a year that has been a journey of spirit following the passage of my father from this life in January. The Icelandic escape slipped me out of a rut into which I had fallen and got me away from concerns about political events in Britain. Solace was a distinguishing feature of the Swiss interlude, and it felt great to stick with enjoying delightful sights in place of life's troubles. That sense of peace has returned from time to time since then, though there has been mental turbulence too. Thankfully, the latter appears to be subsiding while life is running its course.
One downside to both excursions is the cost, and I should have got myself a Swiss Travel Pass for rail travel is expensive there. That means that any future ventures beyond British, Irish or Manx shores will have to await 2016, and I am looking at the possibilities for Norway at the moment. In addition to that, there is more of Switzerland to see with Austria, Germany and France all having their portions of the Alps too. Given what I gained from this year's trips, savouring scenery in other parts of the world is something that I fancy continuing.
Another thing that attenuates foreign travel ambitions after the cost of such exploits, or the passing of the summer, is the need to find my feet again when it comes to Ireland. It no longer feels the same with both my parents gone, and it is as if an anchor has disappeared. There no longer is the feeling of attachment that there once was, even though I still have family there and there are things that need doing on a continual basis. The latter offer a chance to find my place there again, and only time will tell as to how things proceed.
Living in the U.K. for as long as I have has compounded the lack of attachment to Ireland, yet it also has not been a year for walking excursions in the country that I now call home. Around April and May, there were quite of few walks around Macclesfield's hills and August saw me reprise a walk between Monyash and Bakewell via Lathkill Dale. Another factor that may have played its part in keeping me from my usual hill country haunts has been my return to cycling local roads now that I have regained my road confidence. Cheshire has featured strongly in the various routes, and there even was an incursion into Staffordshire that took in Leek and Tittesworth Reservoir. Maybe the shortening days will draw me backing to wandering among hills again.
Precious Gifts
11th February 2015 After a break needed to care for their own older relatives, my parents started to go exploring Ireland again. Early memories of this involved evening drives after the cows had been milked. Places like Springfield Castle, Cahermoyle House and the last resting place of William Smith O'Brien still reside in my memory. Somehow, I also seem to recall that the evenings were clouded and dull when we made these excursions, but my father retained an interest in history for much of his life and a few of these outings stemmed from that.
That is not to say that places were not frequented for their scenic worth. After all, my mother enjoyed flowers and shrubs with many a pot plant about the house, while shrubs and trees made mowing the lawn all the more interesting. Trees were favoured by my father, so places like Foynes Wood, Curraghchase Forest Park and Doneraile Park also saw visits and the Ballyhoura Mountains were not ignored either, especially given my mother went on Sunday drives around there with her own mother. Visiting gardens open to the public was more my mother's interest, and she found ones like Annesgrove Gardens near Castletownroche in North Cork or Derreen Gardens near Lauragh in Kerry through the pages of the Cork Examiner (now the Irish Examiner). Rhododendron flowering seasons nearly always saw excursions to the Vee and Mount Melleray in the Knockmealdown Mountains between Clogheen in County Tipperary and Cappoquin in County Waterford.
Continuing the scenic theme, my parents also appreciated mountain and coastal scenery. My mother especially enjoyed the latter, and it was the freshness of the Atlantic sea air that especially drew her. There were so many visits to Ballybunion in County Kerry that the place no longer appealed to me and might have inoculated me against seaside resorts for life! Other favoured seaside destinations included Beale, Banna and Ballyheigue on the same stretch of coastline as well as the likes of Kilkee, Lahinch and Spanish Point in County Clare.
Thinking back on it, it sounds that my parents enjoyed much of what is branded now as the Wild Atlantic Way. In fact, I reckon that there was not much of Ireland's western seaboard that they had not savoured. Donegal stands out in my mind, as well as Sligo and maybe north Mayo too. Definitely, their travels have West Cork, Kerry and Clare well covered and there were a few days spent around Connemara too, nearly twenty years ago. Car touring was their way rather than country walking, though, and they thought of their excursions as going for drives and these often were leisurely too, the often narrow roads that were travelled saw to that. Doring Kindersley's Back Roads Ireland (from their Eyewitness Travel series) would echo what my parents enjoyed doing.
On some of these, they would bring us along and there would be many miles covered between the two milking times in the day. One was around 180 miles and took us all around the Beara Peninsula, with a scary moment when it looked as if there was no road and that all that was ahead was the sea. Even though it was a sunny summer day, the sight gave pause for thought until we saw the road go around to the left and lose height as it did so. Going slow around there certainly paid its dividends. Another memory from such an escapade was dropping down into the Black Valley and the Gap of Dunloe on a gravel track in an ordinary family saloon, a four-door Nissan Sunny. The places that they took their cars would surprise you, and there was a story about the way into a waterfall on of their multi-day trips away; the road was well rough and my father proceeded without due regard to the underside of the car and got away with it. It may have been Glen Inchaquin near Kenmare, but I cannot be more definite than that.
The east coast of Ireland did not get overlooked either, for they honeymooned around Bray in County Wicklow. Thirty years later, they reprised that trip and went to Glendalough and other spots too. The full details escape me at this stage, but their love of scenery certainly excluded very few parts of Ireland. Another trip away took them down to Ireland's south-eastern corner, though it was not as sunny as its reputation suggests when they were there. There was one story about an experience in a guest house when trying to open a window for fresh air at my mother's insistence resulted in the thing falling out on my father. It was dodgy anyway and hit no one, as they discovered the next morning. Many a B&B say was secured at the end of a day's touring, and they were fortunate that accommodation providers at any fully booked establishments rang around to sort them out for that night. That is something on which I never would attempt myself now, even if I did take such a spur of the moment approach with hostels on my first visit to the Isle of Skye. It makes me shudder a little even now.
All of these visits to scenic areas rubbed off on me and actually inspired me to visit the Scottish Highlands in the first place. Even so, I followed a very different approach with more cycling and walking with hardly any motorised touring at all. Nevertheless, all that exploring of Britain, Ireland and the Isle of Man never would have happened if visits to Kerry and West Cork with my parents had not stirred up something in me and my mother encouraged it in her own small way by asking if I had gone anywhere during a preceding weekend. Without my various excursions, there would be anything for this blog or even for this website, and that is one of the priceless things that they have left me. My curiosity for seeing new places or new sides to old haunts still remains with me. There are parts of Ireland that they visited where I have yet to go and there is armchair wandering beyond the shores of Britain and Ireland too, with the Faroe Islands and the Alps arousing enough interest for me to survey guidebooks because I realise how little I know of such places. Whether I actually get to these places is another matter, but my current hunting grounds have much to delight me, so I have no plan to desert those either. The two people who inspired all this may be with us no longer, yet their wanderlust has not gone with them. It is difficult to see them wanting to be very much different.
