It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out how the owners of Saltmoore arrived at the name. Up in the county of North Yorkshire, the country retreat is positioned between the rugged North Sea coast (providing the ‘salt’) and the wild, windswept moorlands of North York Moors National Park.
A hearty, homely ‘hotpot’ is the main dish the English county of Lancashire is famous for. Here and across the UK, the simple, slow-baked stew of lamb or mutton with onions and potatoes, traditionally cooked in an earthenware pot, has been eaten for the best part of two centuries.
Standing outside the Teleferic Grand Hotel, a chocolate-brown, wooden, chalet-style building whose balconies are decorated with pretty, brightly coloured flowers, you could be mistaken for thinking you were in the Swiss or Austrian Alps, or the Dolomites region of northern Italy.
Far off in the distance, there’s a piercing whistling sound. Moments later, a cloud of white steam rises up above the treeline.
Standing on the pebble beach in front of Knockinaam Lodge, we watch a lone seal bobbing in the ocean. He seems as curious about us as we are about him.
Walk into any church or cathedral across the UK or Europe and you’re likely to find stained glass windows. The colourful windows, often depicting Biblical scenes or figures, have been used in religious buildings in Britain and on the continent for over 1000 years.
A grand stag sculpture stands at the entrance to Mar Hall, while golf buggies zip around the roundabout and roads, ferrying players to and from the course.
The Jacobite Rising of 1745 is a turbulent period of British history. Charles Edward Stuart, known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, grandson of the deposed King James II of England and VII of Scotland, led a failed attempt to try to restore his family, the Stuarts, to power.
England has no shortage of impressive, historic country houses. But few of them make such a striking first impression as Swinton Park Hotel in North Yorkshire.
Few sounds are more relaxing than the crackle of burning wood on a log fire.
“We’re in a very dark spot,” says Palé Hall’s concierge, who greets us at the hotel’s entrance and lead us down the hotel’s driveway. “In the Dee Valley, there’s no light pollution here, and it’s very quiet. All you’ll hear at night is owls.”
There’s nothing like having the number ‘1’ in an address to let people know a city hotel has a prime location. In the case of The Balmoral, the hotel takes up the number one position on Princes Street, the main street that cuts through the heart of Edinburgh.
For a relatively small country, about the same size as the state of Mississippi, England has a remarkable number of ‘secret’ or ‘hidden’ corners.
Even in a thick neoprene wetsuit, the water is bracing. There’s a jarring, icy jolt as a dive beneath the surface of Ullswater, the second largest natural lake in England (after Windermere).
‘Deconstructed’ is a dreaded word in hospitality. It’s a word often found on menus in modern restaurants or pubs where a chef has broken down a classic dish into its separate elements.
