A sinuous line moulded in red clay grows out of the gravel floor and unfurls up to the very apex of the gable wall in graceful coils. The artist’s caption explains that the relief is meant to resonate with the meandering path we have just followed out of the valley.

Yet this was no hushed, climate-controlled gallery but a candle-lit mountain refuge with an unusual twist. Reinvented as a refuge d’art by the internationally renowned British artist Andy Goldsworthy, it is one of seven such bothies in the mountains of Haute Provence, south-east France, where walkers can travel and shelter in the company of art.

My walk involved climbing a steeply winding path, and the dust clouds created by scuffing feet had – as predicted by the artist – formed an uncomfortable red layer on my clothes, boots and hot skin. But now, before preparing dinner or setting the fire, I was being asked to elevate my experience with a piece of art that had been purposely placed for the delectation of walkers.

Majestic and brutal landscape

With so much else to contemplate from my walk, the addition of art hardly seemed necessary. In the early evening cool I’d emerged from the depths of a narrow limestone gorge sliced open by the river Bès and, once clear of the restricted view, the brutal majesty of the mountains was revealed. The bare summits and mountainsides above the tree-line acted as a screen, on to which the sun projected its palling light. Going from pink to orange and then cool purple, there was just enough of a glow for us to locate the red-tiled refuge set in a high meadow.

Here, in the predominately limestone mountains, where the temperature swings wildly between extreme summer heat and winter snow, life would never have been easy. The vegetation is stunted and contorted with thirst and it clings to the once-prehistoric sea bed like coral. The grassy meadow, although green, was brittle and coarse. Yet what the flora lacks in stature it makes up for in pungency, and the night air throbbed with the scent of pine, rosemary and thyme. In the absence of any human habitation, the night sky came alive with the afterglow of the galaxy.

Formerly one of many derelict buildings in the abandoned village of Vieil Esclangon, it has now been given a new purpose as a mountain refuge. The roof has been replaced and there is a mezzanine floor with five bunks, a dining table and benches, a fireplace and that snake-like clay artwork – entitled La Javie – which is held together with donated human hair. Water, however, is nowhere to be found, and has to be brought with you. The bothy is free to use overnight and can be booked in advance with the Musée Gassendi in Digne-les-Bains, who will provide you with a key in exchange for your passport or driver’s licence.

Sculptures that create mystique

It’s all part of a concerted effort to attract walkers to the region, which is often overlooked in favour of its near neighbours, the high Alps and the Cote d’Azur. Originally, Andy Goldsworthy was commissioned to make just one of his trademark environmental artworks in Digne-les-Bains, but the project has literally taken legs, and now a 150km/94-mile trail has been created following ancient byways between seven refuges and other sculptures, including a series of stone beehives, or eggs. Goldsworthy regards these eggs as sentinels guarding the gorges and the high passes. Three more refuges are currently being ‘artworked’, too.

It isn’t a walking trail in the traditional sense

, since a car or bicycle is required to link the walks. But what the art has done is create resorts and landmarks where, previously, there were none. The old chapel at St Madeleine, high on a promontory above the village of Thoard, has been given a new mystique with an almost blasphemous installation that replaces the altar with a dry-stone niche in which you can stand to fill the void. None of the artworks are well signposted, but this may be a deliberate attempt to engender a sense of serendipity about each encounter, cultivating the idea that the art emerges from – and is complementary to – the landscape.

Compared to the snow-capped Alps, I found the mountains of Haute Provence something of an iguana: difficult to love, and its charms not at first apparent. On part of the trail I crossed ugly mounds of shifting black shale, known as marl, that swallows trees and telegraph poles as it slips down from the mountaintops to settle in the valley. But the shale is whipped into miniature peaks and ravines during floods, forming a strangely compelling landscape that felt edgy and impermanent. Several times I had to scuttle across loose gullies that threatened to funnel me downwards.

Beyond the marl, a clearly marked path negotiated a more familiar world of meadow and light woodland of pine, ash and rowan. In every direction there were shapely and accessible peaks of up to 2,300m/7,500ft.

Eventually I arrived at La Ferme Belon, a former war-time resistance training camp, and yet another building to receive the Goldsworthy treatment. Rescued from dereliction, its basement houses a series of six white, rough-hewn limestone arches that interlock in the gloom. Unable to see where I was placing my feet, I found it a strange and intimidating place; these ‘architectural ghosts’, the artist claims in his caption, are being protected by those egg-like stone sentinels positioned at the entrances to the passes in the surrounding area.

It might seem far-fetched, but the craft and scale of the piece was undeniable. Later, at a viewpoint 1,150m/3,370ft above the village of Esclangon, I recognised echoes of those arches in the sweeping swirl of rock strata that geologists have nicknamed ‘the velodrome’. It was then that I began to properly appreciate the scope of Goldsworthy’s project.

What the artist has succeeded in doing is building on what is already there. His materials and inspiration emanate from the landscape, and I found that there was a coming together in my consciousness of the art and the region’s remarkable geology. It’s a subtle approach that has added unobtrusive landmarks and breathed new life into a largely unspoilt area, abandoned for more than a century. Far from adding sentinels, Goldsworthy has actually created beacons.

WIN A HOLIDAY FOR TWO WORTH £2,000!

Enjoy a walking holiday for two – choose from six trips, including an Andy Goldsworthy Walking Tour in July or September – courtesy of Adventures in the Alps (click here for further details). 

The prize includes:

• Return flights, plus airport transfers

• Six nights’ accommodation (according to trip)

• Breakfast and dinner every day

• Five days’ guided walking (according to trip)

Adventures in the Alps is also offering walk readers £100 off any of their walking holidays, simply quote WM001 when booking (go to www.adventuresinthealps.com).

HOW TO ENTER
Complete the entry form at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions (where you’ll also find full terms and conditions) or send your name, address, telephone number and email to Alps competition, walk magazine, Ramblers, 2nd Floor, Camelford House, 87-90 Albert Embankment, London SE1 7TW. Closing date is 31 January 2012. The first completed entry picked at random after the closing date will win the holiday.

Cold and grey is how Berlin plays in my imagination, nourished by spy films and thriller writers. In my mind’s eye, I can quite easily conjure up a city in the grip of an endless autumn just on the cusp of winter. To me, it is a city where parks and cemeteries are thick with fallen leaves and where frosty breath gives away clandestine conversations. So I was not at all disappointed when I stepped out from my hotel on Bernauer Strasse under a low grey November sky, with the air cold to the point of sharp, and into the very shadow of the Berlin Wall. More than 20 years on from the fall of the wall, little of it remains. But it still makes its presence felt and, for people like me who want to feel the chill of a Cold War frisson, then there’s nothing for it but to follow the hundred-mile Berlin Wall Trail, which traces every twist and turn of this once resolute border.

Divided homes and ghost stations
On Bernauer Strasse, I was off to a good start. Only here do sections of both the inner and outer wall survive. In between lies the strikingly stark emptiness of the ‘death strip’, which would have been forensically lit at night. Crossing it alive seemed to me all but impossible. It was on this street that some of the most dramatic incidents took place on 13 August 1961, when overnight the Berlin Wall appeared. The side streets were blocked and houses brutally divided. Doorways were bricked up and so, in desperation, people jumped from upper-floor windows. Pictures beamed around the world of one poor woman who was subjected to a tug-of-war between the secret police, grabbing hold of her from inside her room, and those on the ground below already safe in the free West. Those who died are remembered in stones set into the pavement where they fell. For 28 years, West Berlin was sealed up on all sides by a communist regime determined to stem the flow of people from the East. But while there were famous scenes of jubilation at the time of its collapse in November 1989, there is now some regret that the wall was so comprehensively torn down. Work has now been undertaken on Bernauer Strasse to renovate the remnants and construct a suitable memorial within the death strip, which commemorates the 50th anniversary of the wall’s erection in August. The excavations revealed the foundations of those homes so abruptly cut in two by an ideological divide that did not flinch from its intended route. Even the dead were dug up.

Poignancy is everywhere. At the end of Bernauer Strasse, the Nordbahnhof subway station with its bleak, ringing subterranean corridors reeks of the Cold War. Straddling the divide, with one platform in the East and one in the West, it was fortified by the East Germans and was one of several eerie ghost stations sealed up for nearly three decades. There are two distinct sections to the trail: the city-centre section where the wall divided the city in two; and that in the suburbs, where it separated West Berlin from the rest of East Germany (or the DDR – Deutsche Demokratische Republik – as it was known). In the city, signposts and two lines of cobbles set in the ground keep me in step with the wall’s true route but it’s a good idea to have a street map in order to avoid some of the unnecessary contortions of this most artificial of borders. Beyond the city borders, the wall marches unhindered across flat, open country. Its legacy appears to be a dead zone along its route, so I had to carry plenty of food and water with me and return each night on the excellent public transport system to my city-centre hotel, rather than move on each day.

Cold and World War zeitgeist
My progress was very slow on the first day, passing through the heart of Berlin. It was difficult to strike the balance between walking and sightseeing as some of the most iconic images of the 20th century presented themselves one by one. Without doubt, the wartime zeitgeist – both Cold and World – lingers here in the vicinity of the wall and makes for an exciting companion. At times it’s ephemeral and almost hidden by the determined attempts to rehabilitate Berlin. But around the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate and Nazi-era buildings, it really howls at you. Pockmarked with bullets, the sandstone façades of the Reichstag and Göring’s Luftwaffe HQ were a reminder of the ferocity of the battle of Berlin in 1945, when Germans of all ages were forced to defend the city to the last. The powerful and suitably prominent Holocaust memorial and the Topography of Terror – an open-air exhibition set in the basement of the former Gestapo HQ – demand considered stops.

Away from the modern grandeur of the rejuvenated Potsdamer Platz – where the sleek skyscapers joyfully declare that the capitalist West won the war – I find myself in very ordinary backstreets, but still have to stop frequently to read about the numerous incidences of courage and tragedy. For instance, a shoot-out across the wall, in which a teenager was shot but still managed to escape, prompted Martin Luther King to visit him and condemn the wall. And it was behind the anonymous- looking door of 82 Sebastian Strasse that one of 70 secret tunnels was dug to reunite segregated families. Not much further on, I walk past the longest remaining section of the wall, along the East Side Gallery. Colourful peacenik graffiti does nothing to reduce its dystopian impact; you cannot see over the wall and, unlike a fence, you cannot see through it. It was the ultimate frontier and it is chilling to contemplate the scale of this mile-long section and the determined mindset that built it.

Act of memorial and therapy
Having barely covered eight miles on my first day, it is with some relief that I start the second day with the cityscape behind me. Short immature trees, bumpy concrete slabs and isolated lampposts are a constant reminder that I am walking along the death strip. It suddenly seems perverse and surreal to be strolling peacefully within the very structures that divided loved ones so absolutely. But for the many thousands of Berliners out walking and cycling the trail every day, it may well be a way of taming the terror and coming to terms with the Cold War without forgetting about it. That’s the genius of the Berlin Wall Trail: it acts as both a fascinating memorial and an effective therapy. Continuing further south and west, the trail takes on an entirely different character, where it’s possible to forget about the wall altogether.

In beautiful autumn weather, I stroll along the wooded shores of the Wannsee via Glienicke Bridge – once famous as a venue for exchanging spies – before catching the hourly ferry across the river to Kladow. Among the village-like feel of this district, a beer garden tempts me in for bratwurst and a generous stein of lager. From here on, the trail rarely leaves the deciduous woodland that now engulfs it. Large, secluded villas line the shores of the lake and, rather than relics of the Cold War, the signs in the forest warn of deer and wild boar. If the wall could be said to have a silver lining then it would be that the exclusion zones, so rigorously enforced by communist border guards, have allowed nature to thrive. And since the fall of the wall 22 years ago, nature has flooded in to recolonise even the death strip. I begin to appreciate now that, despite its careful construction and impregnability, the wall could never be a match for the power of nature or the human spirit. But while the former has all but erased it from the landscape here, the people of Berlin have chosen never to forget by maintaining this fascinating trail.

A BERLIN CHRISTMAS MARKETS HOLIDAY FOR TWO!
Enjoy Berlin at its festive best with a six-day ‘Christmas Markets & More’ tour for two, courtesy of Ramblers Worldwide Holidays. World-famous for its Weihnachtszauber (winter magic), Berlin lays on more than 60 Christmas markets during December in spectacular historic settings, with traditional music, choristers, gifts and sumptuous food aplenty. You’ll be taken on a led walk around the cultural highlights of this diverse and exciting city. Your prize includes half-board accommodation, flights, transfers and the services of a tour leader throughout.
For more German, worldwide and historic walking holidays, visit RWH: www.ramblersholidays.co.uk or ✆ 01707 386673.

For your chance to win simply complete the entry form at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions (where you’ll also find full terms and conditions)

TIME/DISTANCE: The 160km/100-mile trail can be completed in a week, but progress is slow with so much to see. It’s easiest to follow the route in a clockwise direction, keeping
a watchful eye out for the dark-grey waymarker signs.
GUIDES: The Berlin Wall Trail is the best guide, translated from German (£15, Esterbauer, ISBN 3 850001474).
TRAVEL TO/AROUND: Easyjet (www.easyjet.com) operates daily flights from Glasgow, London, Liverpool and Manchester to Berlin’s Schöenefeld airport. Berlin’s excellent transport system can be difficult to comprehend. The Berlin Welcome Card offers discounts as well as unlimited travel on all transport (kids go free) – €29.90 for five days; www.berlin-welcomecard.de.
FURTHER INFO: www.visitberlin.de/en. Paul stayed at Berlin’s Hotel4youth, offering central and affordable B&B for all.

I’d never heard of the Arctic Circle Trail until a German woman mentioned it to me. We were on a completely different trek, crossing a barren, black desert of volcanic ash under a burning sun in the Canary Islands. The more she spoke about Greenland’s longest waymarked trail, the more I started thinking cool thoughts on that hot day, determined to research the route and trek along it as soon as I could make arrangements.

Greenland is huge and desolate, 85% of it buried beneath an ice cap, with no roads worth mentioning. Transport is by sea or air, so every time you move you pay a premium and it becomes very expensive very quickly. But the Arctic Circle Trail, I discovered, can be completed on a budget, as it costs nothing to walk the trail, nothing to pitch a tent and nothing to stay in basic huts. There are even free canoes available on one of the lakes. So the total cost is nothing – apart from your flights to and from Greenland.

The route to discovery
The Arctic Circle Trail starts very conveniently at the international airport at Kangerlussuaq, and it really is north of the Arctic Circle: running from Kangerlussuaq, near the ice cap, to Sisimiut on the coast. In summer, the tundra is free of ice from start to finish, and despite its remoteness, this extraordinary trail is well within the capabilities of people who regard themselves as ordinary trekkers. Just bear in mind that you need to be mentally, as well as physically, prepared.

It’s essentially a summertime trail, with a short window of opportunity from June to September. There is no direct access to Greenland from Britain: the nearest direct flights go from Copenhagen in Denmark. I was delighted to discover that Harvey had mapped the route to its usual high standards, along with many other parts of Greenland. I measured the trail at 165km/102½ miles, and realised that a hut-to-hut trek would take nine days.

I caused consternation by leaving the airport at Kangerlussuaq with a lightweight pack, containing everything I needed to trek the Arctic Circle Trail. Apparently, most trekkers carry packs with a capacity of 80 litres and weighing about 35kg. I managed fine with half that, skimping on nothing. Fuel can’t be carried on the flight to Kangerlussuaq, but the supermarket across the road from the airport sells a range of fire-raising fluids. If you’re coming here, I would advise you to bring all your lightweight trekking food with you, as you won’t find much choice in Greenland, and what you do find is expensive.

The first stage is an easy one, leaving the airport, following a road to a tiny harbour, and turning inland to a small scientific settlement at Kellyville. They study the Northern Lights here, which you won’t see in the summer – it doesn’t even get dark in the middle of summer. At the end of the road is a cairn marking the Arctic Circle Trail, and bearing a faded red semi-circle derived from the Greenlandic national flag. Widely spaced cairns mark the route, and there are no signposts. Good navigators have nothing to fear, stepping forth into the wild and empty tundra with confidence in their maps.

The trail runs near a traditional Inuit reindeer-hunting ground, Aasivissuit. Hunting has taken place here for 2,000 years, evidenced by bleached bones and antlers near the trail. If you’re camping in this area you should carry fresh water, as the Tarajornitsut lakes are slightly brackish and not everyone likes the taste. Most other water sources, rivers and lakes along the trail are perfectly clean and can be used without treatment.

I watch for marker cairns and keep an eye on the narrow and intermittent path. The tundra itself is often very forgiving and remarkably interesting. People say there are no trees in Greenland but, in fact, the ground is covered in vast forests of tiny birches and willows, just a few centimetres tall, which crunch underfoot. Maps reveal thousands of lakes, from squelchy bog-holes to lakes that take all day to pass. One of the largest is Amitsorsuaq, where free canoes are available. Most trekkers go from east to west, so the canoes pile up at the western end of the lake. I was lucky, as an Inuit couple paddled the other way with a canoe for me. Tough as boots, they’d spent the night under the canoe in drizzly rain!

Kangerlussuaq has the clearest skies in Greenland, while Sisimiut alternates between sunny and cloudy, dry and wet weather. Any forecast at the start of the trail will almost certainly not be valid by the end. If you want to camp the whole way, you take the weather as you find it. The huts along the trail are very basic, but offer good shelter from bad weather. The largest hut is the Canoe Centre beside Lake Amitsorsuaq, but the smaller huts will barely accommodate six people.

The trail is full of surprises. One of the most amazing sights came while I was crossing a low hill beside the bay called Kangerluatsiarsuaq. Clear water lapped on a golden, sandy beach, warmed by the sun under a blue sky. It was like finding the Mediterranean in the Arctic! Wildlife is sparse along the trail, but will often tolerate a close approach. (Best not to get too close to musk ox, though, as they are unpredictable.) Reindeer should be seen on a daily basis, with hares and foxes on occasion. Ravens are common, as are falcons, ptarmigan and mournful piping loons.

Rugged mountains and clear waters
Days may pass without meeting anyone on the trail, and the few you do meet will mostly be Germans, Danes and Inuit. Checking hut visitor books reveals that a steady trickle of trekkers come from the US, Canada and Europe. For the most part, you’ll feel as if the whole trail belongs to you, so enjoy it and revel in the solitude and wildness.

Right in the middle of the trail is a river crossing that sometimes provides a pleasant paddle, and at other times can be incredibly dangerous. In early summer, Ole’s Lakseelv generally runs deep, swift and cold. Late in the summer, it is barely knee-deep and no problem at all. A footbridge was installed off-route in 2007, but there is no trodden path to or from it, so careful navigation is required to locate it.

Two of the most scenic stretches of the route feature before and after this river, where the trail climbs into rugged mountains and reaches elevations of about 450m/1,476ft. Naturally, clear weather is a bonus, but the views from the uplands of Iluliumanersuup Portornga are amazing, taking in lakes and sinuous rivers, with huge, rounded mountains beyond. The trail continues, mostly beside rivers, occasionally fording them, and almost reaches the sea at the head of the fjord of Kangerluarsuk Tulleq.

The final day’s trek involves climbing above the fjord and passing through a splendid, rugged valley called Qerrortusup Majoriaa, passing close to the prominent peak of Kællingehætten. With very little warning, the Arctic Circle Trail reaches the suburbs of Sisimiut, which comes as a shock after so many days on a quiet and unfrequented trail. There are 5,500 inhabitants, mostly Inuit, living in bright pastel, Lego-like houses, and 2,000 howling sledge dogs tethered on the outskirts of town. I know most trekkers might want to head for a bar, but I prefer the café at the bakery, with a mug of hot coffee and a selection of chocolate cakes!

Trekkers generally stay for a couple of days in Sisimiut, then catch a half-hour flight back to Kangerlussuaq. I balanced the cost of the flight against the cost of nine days’ worth of food – and walked all the way back! Well, the Arctic Circle Trail is such a remarkable route, who wouldn’t want to walk it all over again?

Fancy trekking the Arctic Circle Trail yourself? Walk is offering a tailor-made trip to Greenland for two people to walk the trail, with all equipment, accommodation and flights provided, courtesy of Greenland Tourism. You’ll begin your trip with an overnight hotel stay in Copenhagen, before your connecting flight to Kangerlussuaq. After another night in a hotel, you’ll make the five-day hike along the Arctic Circle Trail, camping and staying in huts along the way.
A hotel bed at the trail’s end in Sisimiut awaits before your return flights to the UK. Exact dates for the trip will be arranged with the winners according to seasonal weather conditions and your availability.

For your chance to win simply complete the entry form at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions (where you’ll also find full terms and conditions)

TIME/DISTANCE: The 165km/102½-mile Arctic Circle Trail takes about nine days to complete, with a total ascent and descent of 3,315m/10,875ft. The trekking season runs from June to September. Snowdonia Climbing (www.snowdoniaclimbing.co.uk) leads guided walks of the route.
MAPS/GUIDES: 1:100,000 West Greenland Hiking Maps, Sheets 8, 9 and 10: Kangerlussuaq, Pingu and Sisimiut (www.harveymaps.co.uk); Trekking in Greenland – Arctic Circle Trail by Paddy Dillon (www.cicerone.co.uk).
TRAVEL TO/AROUND: Air Greenland (www.airgreenland.com) flies direct from Copenhagen to Kangerlussuaq, and from Sisimiut back to Kangerlussuaq. Return flights from Britain to Copenhagen, onwards to Kangerlussuaq, and home from Sisimiut, will cost almost £1,000.
FURTHER INFO: www.arcticcircletrail.com

Menorca is one of the Balearics’ best-kept secrets, often overlooked by tourists who prefer to head to the bigger, more dazzling lights of Ibiza or Mallorca. And so it almost was for me, as I dismissed Menorca as another bland package-holiday resort complete with the stereotypical overcrowded beaches, chips with paella, and umbrella-decked cocktails, and any cultural originality buried up high in the hills of difficult-to-reach villages.

Preconceptions in tow, I arrive in Menorca and immediately set out exploring on a guided walk along the Cami de Cavalls – an ancient bridle-path looping around the whole island, which is just 53km/33 miles wide and 22½km/14 miles long. In the small pebble cove of Els Alocs, a waymark of pretty blue tiles by a local artist’s summer residence, points towards a stretch of the arid north coast that will take us through a huge range of habitats. The overcast morning breaks into glorious sunshine as we embark along the coastal path accompanied (and sometimes led) by a small cat that meows each time we stop to take in the stunning views.

Vibrant views, hushed forests
And what views: smoothly rounded stones eroded by the sea; tiny whitewashed fishermen’s huts perched on the edge of the water; Egyptian vultures and red kites soaring overhead; a lighthouse far out on one of the many outcrops. We scale the rocky hills, passing abandoned shelters and stepping over clusters of daisies and buttercups – all against a colourful         backdrop of turquoise Mediterranean, black and red rocks, and white sandy beaches. Along the way, my guide Ramon – who has been leading walks on Menorca for many years – points out the strange, aerodynamic shape of the vegetation which, helpfully for walkers, always points south. The low, hunched bushes look as though a crazed topiary artist has set upon them. Yet in fact the sea wind is doing the trimming; the salt carried by the wind has a corrosive effect on the plants, hence their strategy to hunch down low to the cliffs.

As the path turns inland through oak and olive groves the scenery changes radically. The island is extremely green. From the air the main impression is of impenetrable pine forests, yet on the ground – as these groves attest – there is also plenty of oak, olive and fig. The air cools and path narrows as we enter the trees’ shade, and the noise of the sea gradually fades to be replaced by birdsong. It feels hushed here, like a sanctuary. Ancient and gnarled, the olive trees bend upwards like old men, bearing the weight of their still-forming black olives. Oak trees, completely unrecognisable from the English Quercus, add to the tranquil green shelter. We’re not the only ones appreciating the peace: a Hermann’s tortoise is basking in the dappled sunshine to the edge of our path. Not so slow when it feels threatened, the small yellow and black-shelled reptile scurries for cover as we approach.

Out of the woods, we arrive at yet another change of habitat: wildflower meadows. The stunning floral displays are another of Menorca’s charms and are best seen from March through May, when sweeping vistas of poppies, orchids, sainfoin, ragwort and gladioli are in bloom. While admiring the northern coast’s attributes today, I’m also getting a taste of the fierce north wind – the Tramuntana – which evokes its own saying amongst the islanders: “If the Tramuntana does not die after three days, it will last a week”. I hope not! Ramon describes the island landscape as like a mosaic and this is certainly the impression I’m left with as we finish our first day’s walk, after six miles, in the pristine bay of Algaiarens. I’m beginning to think I might have been wrong about Menorca.

The island’s surprising unspoilt beauty can be accredited to its unique status as a Biosphere Reserve – a UNESCO status granted in 1993 to conserve not just Menorca’s extraordinary ecological diversity, but also its vast array of prehistoric monuments dating back to 2000 BC. The development of the Cami de Cavalls as a tourist attraction aims to exploit this dual heritage as sustainably as possible. The 170km/105-mile route once served both as a defence and a communication tool for the British, who ruled Menorca in three different periods during the 18th century. It enabled horse riders to survey any threats of invasion from the sea and pass on information via the numerous watchtowers and fortresses.

Secluded bays, archeological finds
The next day, when the Tramuntana has blown itself elsewhere, I meet Ramon to experience the southern aspect of the Cami de Cavalls. The tourist guides boast that Menorca possesses more beaches than all the other Balearic islands put together, so we spend the morning testing this claim. I imagine a kind of ‘beach-crawl’ involving the standard ice-cream and paddling, yet what I get is altogether more magical. Secluded bays are protected from the wind by white-stone cliffs and clusters of pine – picture postcards of white sand and shimmering turquoise water. At the edge of the sea in Cala Mitjana, I can see straight through the crystalline waters to the pebbles resting on the seabed. Further out, only a few small sailing boats give an indication of any other humans for miles around. Every one of my small-minded theories about Menorca is being blasted into oblivion, and it’s wonderful.
After lunch, we deviate from the coast for my first archaeological visit to the ancient site of Torre Trencada. Beyond fields of long grass stirred by the breeze, we pass through a small wooden gate. I lift back the overhanging branches of an oak tree to see an incredible T-shaped stone construction before me, like a gigantic altar, surrounded by wildflowers and olive trees. It’s reminiscent of Stonehenge, and I’m struck dumb by its strange, mystical beauty and filled with wonder and awe. It’s preternaturally quiet, yet far from eerie, and feels entirely separate from normal life.

The boulders which make up the stone table are immense – too big to lift, particularly in prehistoric Menorca when there were few sources of power to harness. There are many theories about the island’s stone relics, but as yet no solid explanations as to the hows and whys. What is known is that the sites date back to pre-Talayotic (2300-1300 BC) and Talayotic (1000-123 BC) cultures and include talayots (square-based watchtowers), navetes (circular accommodation and burial chambers), and taules (standing stones in the shape of a huge table, such as Torre Trencada). But to me, there’s something wonderful about finding this mysterious ancient relic free from interpretation, with no fences keeping out non-fees-paying visitors. Here you can see these wonderful monuments as they have been left: standing in wild meadows with sheep and cows grazing heedlessly nearby. It seems a gratifying symbol of how millennia of human development haven’t detracted from Menorca’s wondrous natural beauty. So while the grand-scale tourism I expected (with all those terrible holiday resort clichés) does exist in parts of the island, I feel certain the rich natural habitats, incredible walking opportunities and fascinating history that I’ve discovered will be safe for thousands of years to come.

Time/Distance: The 170km/105-mile Cami de Cavalls can be completed in about two weeks. You should factor in half as much again on your normal timings to allow for the heat and humidity. The route is waymarked, though the path is not always obvious. Walking maps are available, or consider walking with a guide. There is a no-camping policy on the island.

Travel to: Many UK flight operators go to Menorca – but for a scenic (and more eco-friendly) journey, take the Eurostar to Paris, then the overnight ‘Elipsos’ to Barcelona, where ferries to Menorca take about nine hours. Visit www.seat61.com for more on getting there by train.

Travel around: Use the excellent bus network to see the main sites. A car is advisable to visit some more isolated ancient monuments; rentals can be easily arranged on arrival at Mao airport (rent ahead in peak periods).

Further info: Visit www.menorca.es or www.visitmenorca.com

The rapid development of cheap package holidays abroad in the 1950s and ‘60s had some unfortunate results. For reasons which must have seemed right at the time, Spain was promoted to the British holidaymaker as an affordable destination which could supply all the familiar comforts of home. ‘Chips with everything, and tea as Mother makes’ more or less summed it up. The result was that sun-starved Brits flocked in their tens of thousands to the beaches of the Costas and returned home convinced, after a fortnight in Torremolinos or Marbella, that they knew all there was to know about Spain. It has taken a couple of generations and huge amounts of money to change that old perception. The pity of it is that, inland from those internationalised and undemanding seaside resorts, the ‘real’ Spain was there all the time, unchanged, unspoilt and undiscovered. And it’s still there today.

Moorish influences
Andalucia is the kind of Spain I have in mind. A region with a fascinating history and culture, and a landscape of dazzling beauty and grandeur. A region known to the Iberians, the Celts, the Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthaginians and Romans. And, of course, to the Moors. The Moorish conquest of Southern Europe reached Andalucia in the early part of the 8th century and they remained there until Granada fell to the forces of Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492. Their influence can be seen to this day. Andalucia is a magnificent destination for those who enjoy walking holidays, from the fairly undemanding terrain of the coastal strip, with woodlands and undulating countryside; to the steeper slopes of the Sierras and the challenges of the many Natural Parks. Several holiday options in Andalucia are in the current Ramblers Worldwide Holidays brochure. For those who want to see its famous cities, the aptly named ‘Classical Andalucia’ is an obvious choice. Over two weeks you stay in Seville, Cordoba and Granada, with an emphasis on sightseeing in all three, but with opportunities to walk the valley of the river Guadalquivir as well as the Genil and Quentar valleys.

Less energetic – though still with some pleasant coastal and woodland walking in the schedule – is a week based in a five-star hotel at El Rompido, a fishing village a little north of Huelva on the Costa de la Luz. The hotel has a couple of golf courses, indoor and outdoor pools, and a health and beauty centre. El Rompido is surrounded by several of Andalucia’s Natural Parks. The first was established in the Sierra de Grazalema, and a week there (on half-board terms in a four-star hotel) is for the more enthusiastic walker. The ‘wonderful views of limestone peaks and rolling sierras’ that the brochure talks of are the rewards of more strenuous hiking.

Another five-star hotel experience awaits in a different holiday. Again, there’s a golf course, swimming pool and ‘wellness centre’. But it’s a very different kind of hotel from the El Rompido, having started life as a 16th-century convent before being converted to its present use. Located at the foot of the El Torcal Natural Park, the Convento de la Magdalena is the base for a six-day holiday that includes gentle walks into the lower slopes of the Torcal mountains, through glorious olive groves and walnut orchards.

Birdwatchers’ paradise
Of late, Ramblers Worldwide Holidays has been concerning itself with adding value and variety to its tours. So there are walks of different grades in each holiday, and alternative activities to walking on offer, too. That’s because they recognise that, for example, a couple may not be equally fit, or that an inveterate walker may be accompanied by someone who is more interested in, say, the opportunity to take photographs on holiday, watercolour painting, or observing the flora and fauna of the countryside. There is an Andalucian offering that fits perfectly into this format. The holiday to Doñana National Park and Extremadura is rightly called ‘A Birdwatcher’s Delight’ and offers the opportunity to combine walking and birdwatching with some Spanish and Roman culture. You stay at three locations during the nine-day holiday. The first, Plasencia, is close to Monfraqüe Park – home to vultures, kites and eagles. After a night in Mérida, an important centre in Roman times, you go to El Rocio and the renowned Doñana National Park. These Andalucian wetlands at the mouth of the Guadalquivir River are thought by some experts to be the best birdwatching location in Europe.

Wherever you choose to go, Andalucia offers a wealth of history and some impressive cities. For those who do walk away from the tourist trail, it also offers a glimpse of the Spain that used to be. A Spain that feels a million miles away from the crowded Costas.

For your chance to win a holiday to Andalucia in southern Spain, courtesy of Ramblers Worldwide Holidays, simply answer this question: what is the name of the National Park in Andalucia famous for its birdwatching? Complete the entry form at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions by 31 May 2011 or send your name, address and contact details to: Andalucia Holiday Competition, Ramblers Worldwide Holidays, Lemsford Mill, Lemsford Village, Welwyn Garden City, Hertfordshire AL8 7TR. The first correct entry picked at random after the closing date will win the holiday. Terms and conditions are available at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions.

The one-week “Walking in Competa” is just one of the many Andalucia walking holidays offered by Ramblers Worldwide Holidays (✆ 01707 331133, www.ramblersholidays.co.uk). Prices from £699 per person, including flights, accommodation, half board and the services of an expert tour leader.

Voted as one of the best walking destinations in Germany, the Rhineland-Palatinate region is a must for hikers.

See the most famous German hiking trail “Rheinsteig” on BBC`s “German Wanderlust” which aired Wednesday, 1 December on BBC FOUR at 20:30. Watch it iplayer here.

Looking for the perfect walking holiday? Then grab your boots and head straight for the beautiful region of Rhineland-Palatinate, situated in the far west of Germany, close to Belgium, France and Luxembourg. This stunning landscape offers a warm welcome to walkers and the chance to enjoy everything from leisurely strolls to challenging trails in a uniquely diverse terrain that includes lush green forests and idyllic meadows plus scenic river valleys and volcanic hilltops.

Walking haven apart, Rhineland-Palatinate has many other attractions. It is Germany’s leading wine region,  producing 70% of all the nation’s wine, including such famous varieties as Riesling and Pinot Noir. Why not embark on a three-day German wine route through the diverse Palatinate region, where you can sample some of the most delicious local wines?

Enjoying a mild climate, the Rhineland-Palatinate also has many charming towns and picturesque villages. It is
home to a number of UNESCO Word Heritage sites, including Speyer Cathedral, the Roman buildings, the cathedral in Trier and the Upper Middle Rhine Valley. There are more than 500 ruins, enchanting castles, fortresses and old monasteries exploring more than 2,000 years of history, in this breathtakingly beautiful region.

To find out more about Rhineland-Palatinate, visit www.romantic-germany.info or ✆ +49 (0) 1805 75746 36

Calls cost 14 cents a minute from a German landline. Extra charges may apply from other networks

WALK THESE WAYS: A low-down on five famous trails to trek

RHEINSTEIG TRAIL is one of Germany’s top trails, with 320km/198 miles of countryside and culture on offer. Suitable
for hikers of all levels as it offers leisurely, scenic trails as well as treks taking on more demanding alpine style challenges.

SOONSWALDSTEIG TRAIL runs from Bingen in the romantic Rhine valley. This 83km/51-mile trail takes walkers
across densely wooded quartzite hills to the beautiful Hahnenbach valley. Find both tranquillity and challenging
walking in the Soonwald forests.

SAAR-HUNSRÜCK-STEIG TRAIL Voted the best walk in Germany in 2009. This 184km/114-mile trail takes in crags, meadows and moorland, and gives the walker the chance to feel truly off the beaten track.

WESTERWALD-STEIG TRAIL Jaw-dropping scenery delights at every step and the 235km/146-mile trail runs through lakes, valleys and a nature reserve.

EIFELSTEIG TRAIL ‘Just you, the water and the rocks’ is the slogan for this spectacular 313km/194-mile trail. The trail takes you through enchanting valleys and ends in the Eifel National Park.

FURTHER INFORMATION

Frankfurt-Hahn airport is an ideal arrival point (www.flyhahn.com). Or you can travel by train (www.raileurope.co.uk) or go by car ferry and drive your own car (www.poferries.com).

For more information on the Rhine Castles & Vineyards Tour click here.

Snowshoes introduce a whole new acoustic to walking. On the hard icy stuff, the free heels flap and clack and the studded soles scrape. I felt about as unobtrusive as a one-man-band. But among the soft, fresh stuff I just sank a little with a comforting ‘flumff’. I was following my local guide, Murielle, through a forest in the Jura mountains on the French-Swiss border, and we were on the hard stuff. To have been making so much noise seemed sacrilegious as all other sounds were muffled in the snow-laden forest. Yet despite the din, Murielle continued to look earnestly for signs of wildlife and called for me to catch up and inspect her most recent find. Would it be the tracks of a lynx – the wild-ranging cat of which there are about 200 pairs in the Jura? Or had she spotted a gelinotte, a rare cousin of the capercaillie? Alas, most tracks belonged to long-gone chamois and foraging squirrels – it seemed most unlikely they didn’t know we were coming from several miles away. So, giving up on the prospect of ever seeing any wild animals, I instead revelled in my new-found snowy freedom. Rather than staggering clumsily through the drift, the snowshoes allowed us to proceed with dignity at a respectable three kilometres per hour. The smooth, white crust laying several feet deep over the terrain below covers a rocky black bog that in summer would be riven with roots and crawling with vipers.

Freedom to explore
The forest was a good place to get accustomed to walking in snowshoes, but I was eager to move onto some steeper ground too and get above the tree line to assess my domain. So from the forest in the valley, we carefully skirted a frozen lake to climb up through the thinning trees towards the Swiss border and the viewpoint at La Roche-Bernard. Our journey traced that of smugglers and French Jews escaping to Switzerland. In both cases they were forced to take the hardest routes, often in winter and at night, to avoid customs officers or Nazi patrols. The snowshoes performed well on the steep ascent. These are not the old-fashioned, tennis racket-style shoes of dubious efficacy; rather they’re lightweight, plastic, quickly fitted to most walking boots and relatively cheap. Of course they spread your weight, minimising how much you sink in the snow. But they also have small metal studs on the sole for effective grip and a set of teeth at the toe of the boot, similar to the front points on crampons, which can be thrust into the snow or ice on steeper ground for extra leverage. In addition to the shoes, you need gaiters to keep your feet warm and dry, and walking poles for balance and hauling you out of the odd deep drift. But apart from the kit, there’s no special technique to snowshoeing except to remember that you can’t walk backwards (the tail of the shoe is likely to get caught in the snow and trip you up).

When we finally reached La Roche-Bernard, the far-reaching views allowed an understanding of the Jura mountains. Reaching just over 1,700m/5,577ft, this rolling range has wide boat-shaped valleys  that gather snow easily and are home to many tiny hamlets. Overshadowed by the nearby Alps, the Jura mountains are often overlooked as a walking destination. But unlike its southern neighbours, the Jura’s valleys (known as combes) and modest summits are, in winter, criss-crossed by thousands of kilometres of snowshoeing and ski-touring trails, allowing walkers almost endless winter adventures.

Mountain hut camaraderie
On day two, eager for further adventures, Murielle led me off in search of a view of Mont Blanc, giving me an insight into typical winter-life in the region along the way. As we climbed out of the Combe des Cives, Murielle explained that the people of the Jura have come to terms with their snowbound conditions. Their low-slung homes are built in such a way that the animal feed also insulates the living quarters, fresh water is sourced from melting snow on the roof, and their animals live on the windward side. However, it’s the need to socialise and keep spirits up that is considered the most important aspect of surviving the winter purdah. And as we neared the top of the 1,300m/4,265ft ridge, we were joined by skiers and walkers from every direction – all of us bound for lunch at the Pres d’haut hut. Ramshackle and low to the ground, the Pres d’haut exudes old mountain charm and the small windows – opaque with condensation – point to an inner warmth. Beyond the door at the back of the byre, in a wood-lined dining room, at least 40 of us crowded onto two long benches waiting for custodian Georges to bring thick pea soup and rye bread. Evocative of an Antarctic base camp, wet hats and gloves hang around a wood-fired stove, where Georges’ wife poured water into coffee cups from a pot kept on the boil. Unreachable by car and only open in winter, it’s a treat that only those who arrive on snowshoes or skis can enjoy. Georges explained to anyone who asked that he had to drag a sledge carrying 40kg of fresh supplies from the valley every day. Wedged into a corner, I listened as locals – some of whom visited two to three times a week – regaled us with snowshoeing and skiing adventures all over Europe. One man told how he had once encountered the king of Sweden while skiing in a Swedish forest; another had skied down the treacherous, closed road leading from the Great St Bernard pass, and was forced to improvise a break to avoid an accident. The atmosphere inside became so convivial that the wintry weather outdoors was transformed into something to be relished and enjoyed.

Spirit of adventure

It’s the kind of place typical of the Jura, and one of many huts offering overnight accommodation along the Grande Traversée du Jura – a newly developed 135km/84-mile route that starts in Mouthe and ends in Giron. Left to my own devices for day three, I embarked on a remote section of the Grande Traversée from the ski resort of Les Rousses to Lajoux, via the chalet de la Frasse and the Forêt due Massacre. It was a wrench to leave chalet de la Frasse’s massive log fire as it began to heavily snow outside. Following the yellow posts and flags that are placed along the route for the winter season, I made my way across the high open meadow. The contours grew increasingly vague in what was a completely covered snowscape – the whole terrain was as ephemeral as a billowing bed-sheet, making crests and hollows increasingly difficult to fix upon. Moments like this made my trip feel exciting and epic, and my mind kept wandering to scenes from Where Eagles Dare and The Heroes of Telemark. I started appraising a chalet d’alpage for use as a shelter should the blizzard get any worse. Yet at no time did I feel in any real danger. The conditions were definitely not benign, but the route was comprehensively signposted and many new bunkhouses have been opened so there’s never an unreasonable gap between them. Indeed, it’s as safe as it can be without taking away all the adventure. My final exploit was to summit the Cret de la Neige – at 1,720m/5,643ft, the highest point in the Jura. In perfect weather we climbed from the downhill ski resort at Lelex onto an undulating crest that provided a balcony on the Alps and Mont Blanc in particular. The snow was deep and soft and the temperature was approaching -15˚C, but it didn’t stop us picnicking at the top in typically languorous French fashion while admiring the stunning alpine views. And that, for me, sums up the special appeal of the Juras. They’re on a scale that liberates rather than intimidates, and they show just how much can be achieved with a simple pair of snowshoes.

Time/Distance: It takes about nine days to complete the whole 135km/84 miles of the Grande Traversée du Jura in winter. The weather can be severe and temperatures can dip to -20˚C, so plan accordingly and build in extra time.
Accommodation: A one-stop booking service can be found at www.gtj.asso.fr (or ✆ +33 384 515151).
Travel to: There are a number of stations within easy reach of the Grande Traversée du Jura, including Frasne, Bellegarde, Pontarlier and Geneva, that are served by the TGV from Paris. Fares from London to Geneva start at £118 for a standard class return with Rail Europe (✆ 0844 848 4070, www.raileurope.co.uk).
Travel around: Public transport is patchy and difficult to co-ordinate. The best approach is to organise transfers with accommodation providers or to hire a car.
Holidays: Ramblers Worldwide Holidays offer an eight-day snowshoeing tour in the Italian Dolomites, starting from £946 per person (✆ 01707 331133, www.ramblersholidays.co.uk).
Further info: www.jura-tourism.com; www.parc-haut-jura.fr.

The nine islands of the Azores look like they’ve been recklessly flung into the Atlantic Ocean to fend for themselves. Although an autonomous region of Portugal, they’re all of 1,500km/930 miles from the mainland and a world apart. My walking holiday would explore a couple of these islands and their endless hiking possibilities in the company of a few fellow energetic and hearty ramblers.

Landing in darkness on the main island, São Miguel, I had the initial impression of being completely surrounded by lush, dark greenery on the drive to the hot springs and spa town of Furnas. The Azores islands were created by volcanic eruptions 250,000 years ago, making them one of the youngest landmasses on earth. These days the volcanoes are mostly quiet, with no eruptions since 1957, but the scenery they’ve created makes for some of the most fascinating and interesting walking in Europe.

Tropical hills and lagoons
After a leisurely morning of exploring our hotel’s gardens – a tropical paradise of gigantic proportions – we were ready for more and set off on our first real hike from Furnas to the nearby lagoon, where rumour had it some pretty unusual cooking was taking place. If the Azores are anything, they’re certainly not flat, and the Fosters from East Anglia (a place not renowned for its hills) and I were merrily panting our way up the steep slopes.

For our efforts we were rewarded by beautiful views stretching across the lagoon itself and the surrounding hills. So lovely were the views that we didn’t really mind being told we’d taken a wrong turning and  should have headed downhill instead. Once at the lagoon, we were presented with an extraordinary spectacle. Nature itself seemed to be going wild with enthusiasm here, with sulphurous hot springs and thermal mud pools happily bubbling and spluttering away among the lagoon’s verdant banks. But it’s not just nature that draws the visitors to this spot. This is also where the local restaurateurs gather to pick up their freshly cooked dishes. Pots are simply buried in the hot ground and the food is slow-cooked by the thermal heat. We watched in amazement as pot upon pot was unearthed and carted off to the nearest van for transportation to the restaurants of Furnas in time for Sunday lunch – roast with a twist. Our own picnics weren’t bad grub either and after the munching session we made our way right around the lagoon and back to town to sample some quality aguardente, the local aniseed tipple, in the nearest bar.

For the second day’s hike down to and along the coast, we’d all got into the swing of things. The luscious green landscape was ever-changing as we walked through forests and ravines, along calderas and babbling brooks, down to the coastal community of Ribeira Quente. In the local bar, we found Portugal giving North Korea a right hammering in the football World Cup on the television. There was nothing for it but to join the garrulous locals for a few beers…

Charming towns and bars
With so many islands to choose from, staying on just the one would have seemed almost sacrilegious. So the following day we left São Miguel for São Jorge, a short flight to the northwest. Settling into the town of Velas, there were lovely views opposite the Azores’ highest volcano, Pico, on the island of the same name. Velas itself was a pretty little town of white-washed houses with neat well-tended gardens of bright colourful flowers, all situated on a backdrop of black volcanic rock set against the deep blue sea. After the steep hills and more strenuous hiking of  São Miguel, we opted for a flatter, easier walk on São Jorge. Setting off from Sete Fontes (named after its seven fountains, of which there are apparently now only five – none of them we could spot anyway) the path led through almost technicolour green fields to the westernmost point of the island at Ponta dos Rosais. Surrounded by quietly munching sheep, we soon reached an abandoned, somewhat rough-looking, lighthouse at the end of the trail. Behind it was a sheer drop with more stunning views of the turquoise sea below and the steep cliffs displayed a beautiful vivid mix of red, black and green.

Grateful that we didn’t have to trek up or down the cliffs, I settled into a gentle pace along the southern coastline towards the small community of Rosais itself. Before even getting there, thirst was setting in amongst the party and we found an even tinier hamlet where – lo and behold – there was a watering hole. The bar was run by a tremendously elderly couple: the man was seemingly half blind and the woman had the majority of her teeth missing, but looked very dignified in a head scarf and all-black outfit. Surely they had never had such an influx of non-Portuguese speaking strangers descend upon their bar as on this afternoon of glorious sunshine? Nor had they experienced such enthusiastic gratitude towards their cold beers and delicious chilled wines. All suitably refreshed, we rambled off down the road towards Rosais and the promise of another uniquely exotic and charming Azorean experience.

For your chance to win a holiday to the Azores, courtesy of Ramblers Worldwide Holidays (new brochure out now), simply answer this question: name the percentage financial guarantee you receive when booking with Ramblers Worldwide Holidays. Complete the entry form at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions by 31 March 2011 or send your name, address and contact number to: Azores Holiday Competition, Ramblers Worldwide Holidays, Lemsford Mill, Lemsford Village, Welwyn Garden City, Hertfordshire AL8 7TR. The first correct entry picked at random after the closing date will win the holiday. Terms and conditions are available at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions

The two-week ‘Charm of the Azores’ trip with Ramblers Worldwide Holidays (✆ 01707 331133, www.ramblersholidays.co.uk) starts from £1,699 per person, including flights, accommodation, half board and the services of an expert tour leader.

At the start of a dusty country lane leading  out of the village, I squint at the unpromising  sun-scorched scene in front of me. Weeds  breaking through cracks in the pavement, cacti  tumbling over a ramshackle stone wall, and a  half-demolished outbuilding in the field opposite.  And then my guide encourages me to look a little closer. The weeds turn out to be caper plants whose plucked and pickled buds are a local delicacy, the cacti are actually prickly pear, harvested to make the fiery pink liqueur, bajtra, and that ruined building  is in fact the remains of a 17th-century farmhouse, that’s slowly and painstakingly being restored. It’s the first of countless occasions on my walking tour of Gozo that I’m truly astounded by the depth of history, culture and natural abundance of this tiny semi-arid island. It’s just 14km/9 miles long and 7km/4½ miles across, and a short ferry-ride from Malta. Yet there are monuments here that are older than the pyramids, more than 20 churches to discover among the islands’ many villages (one, in Xewkija, has a dome larger than St Paul’s Cathedral), and the locally-produced food and wine is of the finest quality. All of this means that any walk on Gozo, no matter how short, is literally packed with interest – provided you know what you’re looking at!

Bays and knights
With my prejudice chastened and my senses heightened, my guide leads me on down the lane into a green, patchwork valley of tiny stone-walled smallholdings, where the fragrances of hand-grown herbs waft up on the coastal breeze. Figs, olives, pomegranates, almonds and lemons the size of grapefruit hang from branches that occasionally spill over the boundary walls and out onto the highway, where they’re fair game for passing ramblers. The figs are succulently sweet.  Making way for the odd miniature tractor (we see few cars), our route zigzags down past crumbling limestone cliffs to the hidden cove of San Felip Bay below. Crystal-clear waters lap against a small  wharf of tiny fisherman’s huts, and I sit on a rock  to admire the view beside two leathery, old Gozitans  with fishing rods cast into the deep blue sea. On the boulder-strewn cliff tops above the bay, a watch tower looks out north over the Med. Built in 1661, it was first armed by the famous Knights of Malta who’d been given the islands of Malta and Gozo by the King of Sicily in 1530, hoping to rid himself of their constant political meddling. Having been subject to invasion throughout its history – passing between the Arabs, Spanish, Sicilians, Turks and French – Gozo’s coastline is today dotted with fortifications. The islands were finally granted independence from Britain in 1964 and their tumultuous past has left a cultural legacy that is unique in its mixture of European and Arabic, particularly in the Maltese language and food. Both will seem exotic and yet instantly familiar to the British visitor – plenty of English words are in common parlance and local dishes are served with the best roast potatoes I’ve tasted outside of my mum’s kitchen.

We finish our walk a few kilometres later in the pristine central plaza of Qala, drinking rich Italian coffee beside the village’s impressive baroque church. I watch a local farmer sell vegetables, fresh from the valley we’d visited, out of the back of his van close by.  Our journey followed a section of the Dahlet Qorrot walk, one of four circular routes promoted by Gozo’s tourist authority – all of which fit comfortably into a week’s holiday. The Ramla walk follows fertile valleys  from Nadur to the spectacular orange-red sands at  Ramla Bay; and the Saltpan walk begins in Gozo’s  capital, Victoria, and visits the traditional coastal salt  pans at Reqqa Point. But it’s the 12km/7½-mile Ta’ Gurdan walk that is the jewel in Gozo’s walking crown.

Chapels and temples
Starting beside the grand edifice of another baroque church, this time in the quaint village square of Gharb, we wind our way through narrow streets of stone-balconied villas, all bearing the ornately inscribed names of Christian saints or far-away countries. Like most islanders, the Maltese are prolific emigrants. Within minutes, we break out into open, level fields, dotted evenly with golden cylinders of bound hay. It’s a surprising and complete contrast to the chequered valleys on the previous walk. On our  way, we pass a pretty, solitary chapel and an ancient stone cistern at the base of a boundary wall. The  odd basking lizard is startled by our approach and scuttles away into the colourful wild verges of marigolds, poppies, dandelions and orchids. Then  for the first time on my walks in Gozo, we strike off road and cross a grassy headland trail to a collection of stones by a cliff-edge, overlooking the uninterrupted azure of the Med. They’re not yet officially recognized, but my guide suspects they’re probably the remains of a Megalithic monument, arranged in worship of the sun. And with good reason, since Gozo is awash  with mind-bogglingly ancient archaeology.  On a hill at the heart of the island are the Ggantija Temples, which – together with Malta’s Megalithic Temples – are the oldest freestanding structures in  the world and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Little  is known about their purpose or the people who  built them, but their size suggests a thriving Megalithic community once lived all over the island. We head steeply down from the headland to alight upon an extraordinary limestone platform below. Scooped out by eroding winds and rain, the prehistoric remains of hundreds of fossilised shells, crabs, mangrove roots and urchins are exposed on the  stone’s smooth surface. We follow the platform  along the dizzying cliff-range, passing the occasional makeshift hide of illegal bird trappers, who snare songbirds migrating overhead from Africa. It’s a tradition engrained in Maltese culture that’s proving difficult to eradicate, despite the local authorities’  EU-backed efforts to outlaw it since 2008.

Eco Island dream
Gozo currently has big plans to become, what they’ve branded, an ‘Eco Island’. The island has always sold itself as Malta’s quieter, more rural neighbour, offering many opportunities for outdoor activities (Gozo’s scuba diving sites are world-renowned).  But now it wants to push the eco-tourism agenda even further, aiming ultimately to make Gozo carbon neutral  by 2020. It’s not just about encouraging more tourists, insists Anthony Zammit, who spearheads the initiative at the Ministry for  Gozo. It’s also about increasing educational and employment opportunities for the young local  people who are currently leaving the island in their droves. “We want our economic guidelines to  become the same as our environmental ones,”  he says. “If we go the same way as Malta,  with its mass tourism developments, we will kill  the goose that laid the golden egg.” The Maltese government has pledged €80 million  to various environmental projects, including better protection and marketing of Gozo’s delicate,  coastal karst ecology – known as garigue – and  an afforestation programme that recently attracted the high-profile backing of HSBC. Gozo’s four promoted walking trails are another of these  projects, which has funded the creation of  new waymarks and guidebooks.

Judging by the decrepit state or total absence of waymarks I see along the Ta’ Gurdan walk, I presume it’s still a work in progress. But fortunately I have my guide to direct me along our inland return leg to  Gharb, which takes us up a verdant valley road along  a watercourse, past centuries-old farmhouses to a  tiny square devoted entirely to Gozo’s oldest basilica.  Rows of pink and white flowering oleanders flank our path as we make our way to a pretty hamlet at  the foot of Ta’ Gurdan hill. From here, the finish at Gharb is tantalizingly close, but there’s an arduous  and sweaty return-trip up to the hill’s 161m/528ft summit, where a landmark Victorian lighthouse of  the same name dominates the surroundings.  Whatever breath I had left is taken entirely by  the magnificent views that envelop me at  the top. A 360° panorama encompasses the whole island: all its craggy shores, fertile valleys and green rolling hills, each one crowned with  a neat ridge-top village and  a perfect-domed church.  My guide, like me, remains silent this time. Some views don’t need explaining, they  just speak for themselves.

You could win a fantastic 5-night/6-day Ramblers Worldwide Holiday to Gozo for two, staying half-board at the 4-star Calypso Hotel in Marsalforn. The prize includes return flights, transfers, and walks guided by an experienced leader. For your chance to win, simply answer the following question: What is the name of the oldest free-standing structure in the world found on Gozo? For terms and conditions, and for your chance to win, go to www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions by 30 November 2010.

Time/Distance: Gozo’s four promoted walking routes – Dahlet Qorrot, Ta’ Gurdan, Saltpan, and Ramla – range from 9 to 12km/6 to 8 miles, and take no more than five hours each, over mostly gentle terrain. It’s worth starting in the cool of the early morning during the summer months, to acclimatise gently to the heat.
Travel to: Air Malta (✆ 0845 070 1909, www.airmalta.com) flies from the UK to Malta Luqa airport, from £99 return. Allow one hour to get across Malta to Cirkewwa Harbour for the half-hour ferry to Gozo, costing €4.65 one-way for a foot passenger.
Travel around: Gozo’s grey-and-red buses serve most villages from Victoria’s central bus station. Fares are less than half-a-euro.
Further info: ✆ 020 8877 6990, www.islandofgozo.org; www.visitmalta.com/gozo.
Package tours: Ramblers Worldwide Holidays (✆ 01707 331133, www.ramblersholidays.co.uk) offer an 11-day guided walking holiday to Malta and Gozo, starting from £699 per person half-board, including flights, transfers and a dedicated tour leader.

Images: Mario Galea

Winter can prove a tricky time to stay fit and active outdoors if rambling is your cup of tea. But even during the snowy, frozen time of year it’s possible to plan in some healthy exercise: there’s downhill or cross-country skiing, or why not strap on some snowshoes if you still really fancy a hike?

Downhill skiing
It had been a little while since I stood on skis among the gentle hills of my home country, Sweden, where I’d learnt to ski as a child. But they somewhat paled into insignificance compared to the towering chain of the Alps looming large before me. Luckily, the wonderful thing about skiing is that once you know how, you know how – it immediately comes back to you, even if it’s been years since you last took to the slopes. Once kitted out in all my gear, lift-card neatly placed in zipped-up pocket for those amazing hi-tech machines to read, there was nothing to stop me from testing  my ski legs. My group included all sorts of ages and  a pretty wide range of abilities, from ski-every-year enthusiasts to the slightly rusty rider like myself.  After a moderate, short-ish day on the slopes, we  were soon in the swing of things.  Spending time in what is perhaps the best downhill skiing area in the world, France’s Three Valleys, offers such an endless variety of pistes, you could quite merrily ski every day for weeks without hitting the same slopes twice. Best of all – for me at least – there are plenty of green and blue runs, as well as the more difficult red and black for the advanced skier.  A week didn’t seem long enough. Just as I was getting used to bending, swinging and not landing on my bottom, not to mention enjoying gorgeous French food and wines in the evenings, it was time to head home, all bones thankfully intact.

Cross-country skiing
Cross-country skiing has always seemed to me to be such a gentle, understated sport – how could one possibly work up a sweat and get fit this way? As soon as you’re equipped with skis and poles, though, you come to realise that this isn’t quite as quiet and unassuming a sport as it appears. First of all, chances are you’ll be using a different set of muscles – which, from a fitness point of view, is no bad thing. However, there will be no lovely lifts taking you up those hills – it’ll all have to happen under your own steam, but once you reach the top it feels really rewarding. Usually one for jumping the gun, this time I restrained myself and opted for starting out on the  flat so I wouldn’t use up all my puff on the first day. Compared to downhill skis and equipment, I was feeling positively feather-light. The boots and skis seem to weigh only a fraction of their Alpine equivalent, and the technique couldn’t be more different.  For downhill skiing you need good legs, particularly knees and thigh muscles; cross-country on the other hand is much more about upper body strength, and  is especially true on the flat, where it’s your arms propelling you forward with the poles, not just your skis gliding along the track. I found a good Thermos and yummy picnic really came in handy when I was ready for a pit stop. And contrary to my initial assumptions, I definitely felt I’d earned both.

Snowshoeing
The snowshoe is a rather odd-looking contraption at first sight. In the olden days they were made of natural materials such as wood or hide and used by snowbound communities to get around without sinking into drifts. Materials and uses have since moved on in different directions, but the basic principle is still the same – snowshoes are, not surprisingly, excellent for taking walks on snow.  I confess I felt a bit like Bigfoot strapping mine on. They’re not exactly attractive, despite coming in all the colours of the rainbow, and in no way could they be described as dainty. But they do the trick and allow you to get to some beautiful, virgin-snow covered places, making you the first person to discover them.   All shoed up, I set off across the wintry landscape prettily blanketed in the white, fluffy stuff and soon I was walking with the minimum of sink-factor. I was amazed at how invigorated I felt from just ambling serenely across the snow – in fact, it was proving  far better exercise than I’d envisaged. Best of all, though, you can get really close to nature this way  and there’s no experience required whatsoever.  Shoes on and off you go!

For your chance to win a voucher for a winter sports holiday to the value of £1,000, courtesy of Ramblers Worldwide Holidays (✆ 01707 331133, www.ramblersholidays.co.uk), simply name one of the Three Valleys. Complete the entry form at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions by 30 November 2010 or send your name, address and contact number to: Winter sports holiday, Ramblers Worldwide Holidays, Lemsford Mill, Lemsford Village, Welwyn Garden City, Hertfordshire  AL8 7TR. The first correct entry picked at random after the closing date will win a voucher to spend on a winter sports holiday to the value of £1,000. Terms and conditions are available at www.walkmag.co.uk/competitions.

8 days’ downhill skiing in the Three Valleys, France, from £1,189; 8 days’ cross-country skiing in Achenkirch, Austria, from £744; and 8 days’ snowshoeing in St Zyprian in the Dolomites,
Italy, from £946 – with Ramblers Worldwide Holidays (✆ 01707 331133, www.ramblersholidays.co.uk)