The connoisseurs of all things Bourbon-related may undertake their pilgrimages to the dust-strewn distilleries of Kentucky and Tennessee, keen to uncover the heritage and delights of Pappy’s and their kin. Those seeking the (supposed) origins of the whiskies of the British Isles will congregate around Bushmills in County Antrim.
Located just 90 miles north of the intensity of Los Angeles and 325 miles south of vibrant San Francisco, Santa Barbara is affectionately called The American Riviera. A place that has carved out an authentic laidback bohemian beach vibe, whilst simultaneously delivering a sophisticated lifestyle for its well-heeled and celebrity residents as well as its visitors.
I had been warned — in the way you’re warned about particularly smug schools or eco-retreats — that this was a place of six-pack mums and silent, whirring prams. I can confirm both exist. But so do white stone terraces kissed by the sun, a beach that practically whispers your name, and a level of service that gently erases any resistance you might have been clinging to.
I’m certainly no Francis Bourgeois, but there’s something so romantic and intriguing about crossing lands unknown in the comfort of a sleeper train. Being given the opportunity to see vast landscapes that many won’t ever get to witness, solely due to its sheer remoteness, is a rare delight.
A few key events are akin to film festivals and fashion weeks in the automotive world. The British have the Goodwood Festival of Speed and Revival. The French have Retromobile and the Chantilly Concours of Elegance. The Swedes have the newly launched Auroura Concours, Italy brings us the legendary Concorso D’Eleganza Villa D’Este and Fuori Concorso, and then there’s North America…
Travel is a fine and freeing thing. The unshackling of the metaphorical chains, the daily grind of work, and life’s endless expectations. Oh, and the choice! Sunshine, or snow? Lakes, forests, dunes or mountains? Total relaxation, escapism, exhilaration or luxuriation?
It would be easy to say that the past decade or so has been kind to Lisbon – it’s subtly undergone the kind of glow-up certain other smaller European capitals keep putting on the backburner… and it’s been driven organically by tourism raised high on the shoulders of social media’s more gastronomy-oriented corners.
Paul Lister, the rather eccentric and very present custodian of Alladale Wilderness Reserve – a vast stretch of flawless heathery glen in the Scottish Highlands – defines much of Alladale and his place in it through what it and he is not.
