Stykkishólmur is a port town that sticks out of the Snæfellsnes peninsula – it has shops, restaurants, a lighthouse and a funky church, and is a short drive to sights around the peninsula – making it a perfect place to base ourselves.

Although we’d been craving a hotel experience, someone else cooking food for us, washing dishes and making beds, etc. Iceland is pricey and the hotels aren’t laidback-resort luxury – not plush and aromatic with copious services – more stark and minimal. So we opted for an Airbnb instead, and stayed in Bjorn’s lovely 3 bedroom home in the heart of town, with space for parking, a kitchen and facilities. There was a hot tub but we never found the time to use it.

From the kitchen we had views out across the bay, past the Súgandisey Island Lighthouse to the snowy caps of the Westfjords.

Coming north, the peninsula was notably colder than Reykjavik – temperatures of 9C were replaced with 0-3C, to start with at least.

On our first day we did almost nothing. We needed to recover from the golden circle. The weather was overcast, and every now and then there was a sprinkling of snow. We didn’t have the energy to get the boys up and out for most of the day, so we cooked, watched movies and relaxed. Forecasts for the rest of the week looked ideal; crisp and wintery but with low winds and sunshine.

Narfeyrarstofa

By late afternoon we mustered the energy to get our thermals, jumpers, boots and coats on, and go for a wander to explore town. From the port we walked south to the shops, scouting the essential Bonus supermarket, and then back to a restaurant for dinner.

Narfeyrarstofa is toted as one of the best restaurants in the country outside of Reykjavik. We booked a table for 6pm, as early as they opened, and nestled ourselves in the corner. The kids used colouring pencils to colour the fish on their menus. The lonely planet describes it as:

Charming restaurant is the Snæfellsnes’s darling fine-dining destination

For the boys we ordered noodles and meatballs (we’d hoped this was a translation issue and that it was spaghetti, but it was noodles) and fish and chips, and for us:

Now – this was not the most romantic or relaxing of meals, far from it, at 6pm the boys were tired and bad-tempered, Conway outright rejected his fish and chips, and tried to steal Forrest’s meatballs – he happily gave them up and swapped them for chips, but they both ate little amidst all the squeals and hiding under the table. No one touched the noodles.

We enjoyed our attractive meals, they looked great (but tasted a little normal), and we ate them fast – as parents sometimes need to. And to be honest, we were happy to finish, pay and get everyone home to sleep. We were glad we wouldn’t need to do this every night – as we would need to in a hotel – for our sanity and our wallets.

Unlike yesterday, today we did a lot. And it was one of the best days of our trip, as much for the serendipity of discoveries as for the places we explored.

After our breakfast of skyr on granola, we set out into the peninsula – a full day ahead of exploring. The skies had cleared, and for the first time in Iceland we could see blue skies and feel the warmth of the sun.

We started by driving East, along route 54, the northern coast of the peninsula. We stopped first to look out across the fjord, Kolgrafarfjördur and read a little about the Eyrbyggja saga set in the peninsula. Then through the small town of Grundarfjörður and stopping at the well-photographed Kirkjufell and Kirkjufellsfoss (waterfall).

Kirkjufell

Forrest was having a nap, and Conway was refusing to get out of the car, so I had 20 minutes to myself to try out some landscape photography with tripod and filters at this famous place.

We managed to coax the boys out, in their yellow and orange coats, Conway in his Beatle-esque sunglasses. And then they enjoyed posing for photos (shouting “snow” or “mountain” for each picture), or making footprints in the snow.

From Kirkjufell we stuck on route 54, hugging the coast and then cutting inland, south and through the mountains, to the south cost of the peninsula.

We stopped for a picnic lunch in the car on top of the hills, looking out over the peninsula, where snowy hills line a calm coastline. And from here we began a circle of the western tip of the peninsula, heading clockwise and driving into Snæfellsjökull National Park.

Snæfellsjökull national park

This national park is famous for its glacier (‘jökull’) – it sits atop a classically shaped conical volcano. In Journey to the Centre of the Earth it’s where the passage to the earth’s centre begins. Visibility was good today, and as we circled the glacier its white peak dipped in and out of view between the clouds.

We approached via the peculiar rock pillars of Lóndrangar, and headed to the visitor centre (and their much needed facilities). The visitor centre has a little exhibit, a stuffed puffin the boys were allowed to stroke, an example of a large spider crab and plastic trays of sea shells that Forrest enjoyed sorting. Some steps in the middle appeared to descend to nowhere, covered by a plexiglass sheet – ‘where do they go?’ Conway asked – the friendly staff member told us, ‘to an old sheep bath’, Conway’s eyes widened in a look of shock – his face saying ‘what is a sheep bath, I didn’t know they existed!’

Outside the staff member stood with his binoculars, looking out to sea. We asked what he saw, ‘a pod of orcas’, they don’t normally get this close. Wow. We needed a better look. So we marched the boys over to the Malariff lighthouse, climbed the gnarly lava rocks and tried to look out – we couldn’t see them – but we must have been looking in the wrong place. Oystercatchers walked up and down the black sandy beach (Djupalonssandur).

When we got back, ‘they’re still there’ he told us, and showed us with his binoculars. Sam and I took turns to look out to sea – large black creatures bobbed in and out of the water, three water spouts sprayed, and Samantha saw a swish of a big black tail – how amazingly fantastic and fortuitous to see these wonders from land.

Saxhóll

Back in the car and we headed north, not really looking for anything in particular, we stopped wherever took our fancy, or where there were cars or coaches looking at something.

One of those places was Saxhóll, a volcanic crater with 360 shallow steps to the top (we counted them). Sam went up first, then I climbed and counted with Conway, Forrest was having his early afternoon nap. From the top there are magnificent views of the dried, craggy and flat lava fields – flat with exception for great craters climbing from the fields. A field of craters, like the surface of the moon, sculpted by volcanic magma long ago.

Svöðufoss

Our next detour took us along a gravel track to a car park and the Svöðufoss waterfall. It’s a majestic 10m high drop – we reached it as it had just dipped into shade for the remainder of the day, the wrong time for photos. We took the short walk from the car park to see it from a distance, but didn’t do the longer half an hour hike to get close.

Iceland has over 10,000 waterfalls, and we’d been meaning to keep count – but with so many – often flying by as we drive past them – we soon lost count.

Frozen waterfall

We began to head back, back out past the towns of Hellissandur and Ólafsvík, and up along the cliffside route 54, on our way back to Stykkishólmur.

At a high viewpoint we parked the car – and looking back across at Snæfellsjökull and the surrounding peaks – it looked like we were in some sort of picturesque car advert.

We also marvelled at the towering ice structures on the cold north face where we’d parked, and posed for some photos while the boys watched Octonauts in the car.

Arctic fox encounter

As we continued East the sun was starting to dip in the sky, covering the hills in that warm golden-hour yellow light. It was while staring at these beautifully lit views that a small black arctic fox darted out in front of the car and across the road. I checked the mirrors, then quickly stopped.

The inquisitive fox stopped too, and turned to look at us, giving both the boys a good long look at this creature in its summer colours. Before scampering off again out of sight. I live for these kind of one-off experiences with nature.

Kirkjufell again, with Icelandic horses this time

Now, in this beautiful evening light, as we approached Kirkjufell again we saw that the tide was in and the water at the base of the hill was calm and reflecting. We couldn’t help but stop.

I grabbed my camera gear and made the most of this impromptu photography stop, while Samantha got the boys out to look at the Icelandic horses.

While I set up the tripod and used my filters to try and perfect the composition, they watched the little equines. And as fortune had it, the farmer approached with his son and granddaughter in their tractor, bringing with them a bale of hay to feed them – they smiled at us, and the boys waved at the tractor and farmer. The hay brought all the horses right to the fence for us to see them up close.

It was approaching 7pm and the children’s bedtime, we drove home and didn’t stop again.

Aurora hunting

Once the children were asleep we turned our eyes to the skies and the forecast – we could see stars, and the aurora KP index said 3 and rising – if we went out we’d have a good chance of seeing something. But we couldn’t both go out at once, with two sleeping children. We waited until it was fully dark, about 10pm.

I set out first, driving south and looking for a good vantage point not too far from town. First I needed to escape the orange glow the street lights. I settled on Helgafell and gambled on climbing it in the dark with my head torch. I could just about make out the rocky path you’re meant to follow, and where there was snow I could trace the footprints across.

Helgafell translates to ‘holy mountain‘, and at the top there are the remains of a historic temple built to honour Thor. It’s a religious place, and people still believe that if you climb it, don’t look back and make a wish that you never tell anyone, your wish will be granted. I made a wish. This felt like a suitable mountain to climb, alone and in the dark, on my pilgrimage to see the aurora.

At the top I nestled down within some walled remains, sheltered from the bitterly cold winds that buffeted the mountain. I set up the tripod and angled my wide aperture, wide angle lens at the sky, then I waited.

When my eyes had adjusted I saw mysterious grey clouds that ever so slowly were coming and going. A long exposure on the camera revealed great waves and clouds of green to the north. I shared my compass reading and photos with Samantha back at the Airbnb – but the light pollution meant she couldn’t see anything from the windows.

After 40 minutes of viewing, with the skies still very active, green on the camera, grey to the eye – not strong enough for the colour to trigger the right sensors in my eyes, I descended Helgafell and returned – ready to swap places with Samantha for her turn to see the northern lights. Getting back down the holy mountain was harder, I lost the path a couple of times in the dark and had to turn back and trace my steps a couple of times, but it didn’t take too long.

Samantha opted for a much closer and easier to reach vantage point, the far side of Súgandisey island, just a minute’s drive from the Airbnb, where the northern view is sheltered from the lights of town – and that was perfect, as that was where the lights were. She took the tripod and camera and climbed the island steps, keeping away from the flashing lighthouse on the top.

She too saw the lights, and photographed a beautiful ‘rainbow of aurora‘, before we both, at gone midnight, called it a night, ready to be awoken by the kids at 6am again.

What a fabulous day – a day giving us whales, foxes, landscape photography, waterfalls, craters, volcanoes and glaciers, hidden elf churches, a stuffed puffin and the northern lights – all the best of Iceland in a single day.

Today the clear skies were replaced with grey clouds, which lingered for most of the day. Having such a fabulous day yesterday, it was a hard act to follow, and we pondered what to do.

We started with a breakfast-run to the local bakery – Cafe Bakari, getting there early and buying a random selection. But there were no traditional croissants, and what we did get was all a little weird – like pastries with hidden cheese and ham in them. The boys had the sweetest ones, and we got their scraps when they decided the chocolatey banana nutty pastry wasn’t what they wanted.

Back to the peninsula

On the day of our snowy drive near Reykjavik Samantha had missed out on the lava tube tour – so we opted to book her onto a tour today and head West again, seeing some different sights on the familiar route.

We stopped in Grundarfjordur for toilets and food. I got a mini pizza to satisfy a craving. Forrest marched about the paved streets stomping his pink-spotted boots lined with red socks in all the piles of icy snow. ‘Cold’, ‘Cold ice’ he said, pointing and smushing.

At Kirkjufell we stopped to eat food and look at reflections. The pools opposite the mountain lay still, and we crossed the road and muddy grass to photograph next to them. I lifted the boys over a tiny stream, careful not to slip with my feet nestled in piles of snow. Obviously once we got there with the tripod the wind was up and the reflections were now ripples. But I did enjoy watching Conway running with the tripod, like a courier with an urgent delivery for daddy.

Vatnshellir, another lava tube

We crossed the peninsula, heading south-west to the national park then on to the Vatnshellir lava tube for Sam’s tour. We tried our best to convince Conway to join this too, to go with mummy and see another cave, but his moods were delicate, and he couldn’t make up his mind. In the end he stayed in the car with daddy and sleeping Forrest, watching something on the iPad.

Meanwhile Samantha found out she was the only person booked onto this tour, a personal tour, given by a somewhat less than interested guide.

Samantha got the impression this guy didn’t care much, he was parroting a lot of what he needed to say and his bosses were a lot more interested in caves than he was. At the same time he was candid – pointing out some fake stalagmites the owners had decided to put in, for some reason. Other features included a tall spiral staircase and a skeleton of an arctic fox.

The lava tube was a lot smaller than the one we’d seen previously, and Samantha left feeling underwhelmed.

Rauðfeldsgjá Gorge

After leaving the cave we continued along the peninsula, stopping briefly at an abandoned house – it was being reclaimed by the elements, and the boys enjoyed looking through the old window frames into what used to be rooms. “Climate change is real” was spray painted on the side.

Further along we saw many cars parked down a track – that’s usually enough to indicate there’s something worth looking at. We pulled in too, to take a look at what’s there. Ahh, a canyon with a walk, doesn’t look too hard, it’ll be a nice 10 minute excursion. Little did we know.

At the car park a sign told us the troll-lore, and the saga, Bárðar Saga Snæfellsáss. There was a half-giant Bárðar, he pushed his nephew Rauðfelder into the gorge in an angry rage in retaliation for his daughter being pushed into an iceberg which floated all the way to Greenland. The canyon sits within Botnsfjall Mountain.

The four of us started up the craggy mountain path. “Rock”, “Big rock”, Forrest said. We motivated the boys to keep going by running from rock pile to rock pile, and adding to each of them.

Two-thirds up the hill the path is covered in snow, and there’s a narrowly trudged walk through it all. We attempted to climb this with the boys, and without crampons. To the right, the snow piled up the hill, to the left it fell away, steeply, leading to a stream. We should do our best to fall to the right if we must, and we did. This, it turned out, was not quick or trivial, and it would be harder coming down. Still, we persisted, carrying the boys, and sloshing through, chunks of snow falling into the top of my otherwise waterproof boots.

“Careful daddy”, “ok?”, Forrest said, unprompted, then he leaned out and looked back at mummy, “careful mummy”, “ok?”, he said too. Even our 2yr old could see the precariousness of the snowy route.

At the top a stream flows out of the canyon entrance. There is no path to explore the canyon, you need to hop from rock to rock, holding onto the edge, to avoid standing in the water. We couldn’t do this with the boys, and the boys couldn’t do it by themselves – not without the risk of some very wet and grumpy kids. So we took turns going in, braving the risk of getting our trousers very wet.

I went first, with careful footing, and leaning on a rock, I stepped from wobbly stone to wobbly stone, hugging the wall as I turned the corner into the ravine, mindful of the flowing stream, and wary of soaking my only pair of shoes. Once inside the route continues, deep into the cliff, along an increasingly narrow corridor, with large rocks for scrambling over the stream.

From here I turned back, and as I turned the corner and returned to sunlight, the worried faces of my boys lit up when they saw me, “Daddy!”. Now it was mummy’s turn, and I watched as the boys waited nervously for her to return too.

Of course this was the easy bit, now after our little jaunt along a stream, we had to get back down the slippery snowy path to the car. We tried at first to carry the boys, but our balance was off and we couldn’t stop from falling. Instead I held their hands, they walked, slowly, and I squatted and shuffled along, keeping my centre of gravity low. Undignified? “Super dad”, a passerby said.

We made it. From the rocky path, below the snow, we turned to look back up at the ravine. The flocks of nesting seabirds on the cliffs were unsettled, something was agitating them, and then as we watched we saw a gorgeous white-tailed eagle swoop in and out and around the rocks, looking for easy pickings as the birds scattered.

This was quite enough excitement for the day, and when we were back at the car we headed home.

We stopped once, on the mountain pass, to try and photograph some of the landscape in the low sunlight. But as I walked on what looked like asphalt, I found it was deep wet mud, that my boots sunk into, 2, 3 inches, then further. I turned back, and tried navigating the hidden quagmire by moving on snow instead. I followed some arctic fox tracks along a safer route, took a couple of shots and then we carried on, the car tyres caked in mud.

Aurora hunting

Back at home we cooked dinner, and did our bedtime routine – teeth, toilet, pjs, reading some books, watching an Amaury Guichon video on Instagram, waiting in the dark until the children are asleep.

It had been cloudy all day, but the Aurora KP index looked good, and after the children were asleep I peeked outside, in the twilight I could see a couple of stars, still some clouds, but stars too.

When it was dark, around 10pm, I headed out again to try and find the northern lights again. Up at Sugandisey lighthouse there was too much cloud cover, so I took the car south, driving until the stars became clearer, which was thankfully not very far, away from Stykkishólmur, to a small farm road off route 54.

Here I quickly aimed by camera up at the night sky for a long exposure. There were blurry clouds, but behind their grey the sky was bright green. There was a show being put on, but I needed to wait for the clouds to clear more to see it.

I was lucky, and overhead the clouds cleared, I couldn’t see the full show, but above me I saw wavy wispy clouds of grey dancing. This time I was amidst the aurora, and it was a whole lot more immersive – if the skies had been clear I imagine it would have been phenomenal. When they did eventually clear, the show was over.

And as we left, we saw sheep in a field, which excited Samantha. “Sheep!”, she shouted. Those mystical farm animals Iceland supposedly had so many of, they did exist.

Borganes

We followed route 54 all the way south, to the town of Borganes. We stopped at the Settlement Center, a museum dedicated to the Egill Skallagrimsson saga, but we only stopped for food. Burgers and pizza for us boys, while Samantha tried an Icelandic meat soup – she wanted something traditional before we left. In the shop we found what would have been a very helpful map of the peninsula we’d just left, and Conway grabbed himself a volcano postcard.

Outside, as seems to be the default for anywhere in Iceland, we marvelled at the fabulous views across the water. Oystercatcher birds walked up and down the beach looking for lunch. We ran up and down the boardwalk, playing racing games, holding our hands out like we were holding steering wheels, “quick, quick, quick”, Forrest signed.

Hvalfjörður

We were making good time, so rather than driving deep beneath the water through the Hvalfjörður tunnel, we opted for the old detour around the fjord, taking route 47 around the water.

At the eastern tip of the fjord we found a little stream, and stopped to show Conway how to use our phones to take photos. Once he had a grip that meant his fingers didn’t block the lens, he quickly learnt what to do, and snapped all the things that interested him. Forrest was asleep in the car.

Further along, we stopped again at the Fossarétt waterfall – I stayed in the car with Forrest, and played Wingspan on my iPhone, while Samantha explored the boggy stream, waterfall, and old ruins with Conway, and then we swapped. He took photos of the waterfall, and we showed him how to record video. We trusted him near the water with our phones.

The problem with Iceland is that there are always so many places to stop and gawk at the beauty of the place. We agreed, just one more stop, and took a look at Laxfoss waterfall, posed for funny photos, then continued non-stop to our hotel.

We stayed at BB Hotel near Keflavik airport, so we wouldn’t need to travel far before our flight. We’d planned it this way just in case of weather, we didn’t want to be stuck in a snow drift on the other side of Iceland, driving through the night to get to our flight on time. That said, as it turns out, it hadn’t snowed for days and we’d had the best weather we could have hoped for.

One last aurora

Tonight, of all the nights, the KP index was at the highest I’d seen it, it was 7+, and the chances of seeing the aurora sat well above 40%.

Somewhat cheekily, and with Sam’s reluctant permission, as the boys were almost, but not completely asleep, I took the car out to see if I could get one last northern lights experience.

The problem here was escaping light pollution, so I drove west, as far from the airport and Keflavik town as I could, to the west most point, the Garðskagi lighthouse. This was clearly the place to come, as soon after I arrived, so too did all the coach loads of tourists on their aurora tours from Reykjavik.

But here there were street lights, and of course a great big white spinning light on the lighthouse. I escaped the crowds, the only crowds we’d seen in all of Iceland, and found my own quiet and dark place to see things.

I found a little dirt track to park on, away from any lights, and near some interesting reflecting pools (sorry sleeping waterfowl, I did not mean to scare you). Given the magnitude of the expected aurora, what I saw with my own eyes was not as magnificent as before, but what was exciting was that this time the aurora was both green and purple, according to my camera sensor at least.

I left when the skies clouded over. Before beginning this trip I thought we’d be lucky to see the lights, I could not have imagined I’d see them 3 times. And each time was different. Though I’m still left wanting more, wanting that perfect aurora experience, where the colours are visible to the naked eye, as everyone imagines it.

Back at the hotel I missed some unfortunate drama. I was beckoned home quickly as I was filling up with petrol, one of the boys had been sick. Not the nicest end to a holiday, especially when the hotel were assholes about it, and would not give us any replacement bedding or sheets. We do not recommend BB hotel. Thankfully that was it, and everyone was then fine.
Time to go home

Our journey home was uneventful – we were so relieved – and once again the boys were brilliant on the plane and in the airport. Conway went back through his Iceland book, looking at all the activities we’d done, noting his discovery that vikings exist (‘were they not very nice daddy?’), and that snow is actually ok.

What an adventure we’ve had. Whales, foxes, northern lights, caves, volcanoes, museums, snow, ice, eagles and stunning landscapes. What a great reminder of everything we’ve missed during this pandemic.

Goodbye Iceland, you are beautiful.

Conway and I headed to Bonus to stock up on some needed food supplies – milk, bread, food for a curry, yoghurts (and skyr), and some secret Easter eggs for when we got home.

The opening times of supermarkets are really odd – this one did not open until 11am, so we parked by the dramatic church, Stykkishólmskirkja, while we waited. A magnificent white concrete building, it sweeps up into the sky like a sail.

Lighthouse Súgandisey

When we did get up and out, in the early afternoon sun, we headed over to the port, and up the steps of the hill, to the squat red lighthouse on top.

Súgandisey is an island that’s now connected to the mainland by a port and road. It acts as a natural shield, sheltering the town from the harsh north winds. The grandfather of the owner of our Airbnb used to operate the lighthouse. The views from the top are fabulous.

We looked north, across the fjord to the Westfjords, and a white tailed eagle flew over us – heading to the nests of the quickly-scattering sea birds. We posed for family pictures by the lighthouse, and the boys in their orange and yellow coats, and hats shouted “lighthouse” as we took the pictures.

It was tranquil up here, and we stayed for a while, watching the little boats go out one by one, making ripples in the calm water.

And before we left the boys got excited about the ferry that was docked in the port. Its front was open to let vehicles in, and a crew were prepping it. Forrest got very excited by a forklift truck, and some enormous tyres now being used as road blocks.

East on route 54

From Súgandisey we took the car south, then East, from a paved road to a gravel and dirt one, along a road less travelled. The road was bumpy and brown, and only after driving in Iceland for so long did we now feel comfortable on this route – and only in such friendly weather conditions. In places the tyres caught some wet mud and the car slipped a little, but it was all fine, it wasn’t even an F road.

Route 54 hugs the coastline, and cuts inland as it wraps around a small fjord, Álftafjörður. In the sunshine, with patchy white clouds and glistening snow, the landscape looked beautiful, and thankfully we found a little patch to stop and photograph the view.

We stopped at a viewpoint, a rusty old boat sat amidst the yellow grass, and the boys ran around and around in circles, playing some sort of game Conway had invented on the fly, with very complicated rules no doubt.

Back at our Airbnb we cooked a curry, got the kids to sleep and packed, and with a cloudy sky we took a break from all the aurora. Our relaxing night in was however interrupted by a rather unpleasant event involving one of the boys, but the less said about that the better.

It’s been over 2 years since we last travelled, since our flights to Italy in 2019 we’ve had a couple of holidays, a week away in a cottage in Petersfield, another in Romney Sands, but none of those had the flavour of a different culture.

We are also now a family of 4, with an almost two year old, our youngest boy Forrest would be holidaying with us too. We’d joked that in his first year he’d been to as many people’s houses as his brother had been to countries by the time he was one.

For March 2022 we would travel again, we earmarked two weeks at the end of March and set about deciding where to go. Looking for a careful balance of cost, ease of travel, culture, food and wildlife, we began our search. But laced through this hunt were the covid considerations – covid policy, conditions of entry, pre-flight tests, mask travel rules – and then covid rules in society. The Caribbean was too expensive, and Thailand, recently opened up, would ask that a 2 and 4yr old wear masks all the time, inside and outside. We’re pro-masks, but asking them to wear masks in 30C temperatures outside, or for a 14hr flight, not going to happen. Nowhere in Europe seemed warm enough for a “do nothing by the pool” kind of holiday.

Eventually we sacrificed our requirement for warmth, and settled on balmy Iceland. So just as England started to leap into spring, flowers coming out, lawns being cut again, we took a deep dive back into winter.

Flying to Iceland

We flew from Gatwick to Reykjavik. We announced to our kids that we were going on holiday – Forrest screamed with excitement, Conway got upset, “I don’t want to go on a plane”. As it turned out, he was afraid it would go too fast. We reasoned with him and decided to write a letter to our pilot, “please fly slowly”, it said, accompanying a picture of a plane.

After a few hours waiting at Gatwick, where our favourite eateries had long since closed, and not been replaced, we boarded. Conway gave his card to the pilots, they were very surprised by the request, but they loved it.

Towards the end of the flight the pilot gave Conway a special mention, announcing to the passengers his request, and that we’d been taking it slow, at a mere 435mph with a strong head wind. Then followed an invitation to see the cockpit – Conway and mummy were treated to a seat in the pilot’s chair after we landed, not a bad start to the holiday.

We ordered pizza at the airport and picked up our rental, a red 4x4 Toyota RAV4, with not only snow tyres, but nail studded tyres. Forrest found it hilarious to run away from me while I tried to read and sign the rental paperwork.

In the dark, in heavy rain, we drove north from Keflavik to Reykjavik, where we’d be staying for 4 days. It was 9pm, and the boys were falling asleep in the car, they’d been amazing though – travelling quietly and happily for the most part, excited by the journey.

Reykjavik Residences Hotel

Trying to find a hotel that accommodates 2 adults and 2 kids for the first time, we settled on a room that would give us some agency over our food choices – a mini kitchen with induction hob, and a bedroom separated from a living space – once the kids were asleep we could relax with music, perhaps.

It’s a chic room, all greys, whites and blacks. Conway was disappointed with its lack of toys. I used my phone as a smart key for entry, and it was a good location for exploring the city on foot.

The boys loved running up and down, flying their planes and driving their cars, and giggling to each other.

After too much walking for the boys, today we drove to the museums. In the wind and rain we kept dry in our car, waiting for the whale museum to open at 10.

Inside we found life size replicas of orcas, dolphins, sperm whales, humpback whales, belugas, bottle nose whales, fin whales, and a narwhal. Standing beneath these great giant models, you can take in the sheer size and majesty of these beasts, in a way most cannot, unless they are a very brave diver. Whales are simply huge.

We went from one, to another, and the boys loved looking at each one, exploring how it was different from the others. And none of us had expected narwhals to be so large (and belugas to be relatively small). The kids loved the orca climbing frame, which they climbed into and pretended they were in the belly, or riding the tail, or driving it – Forrest thought the front looked like a steering wheel, and it was just adorable.

In the fin whale room we lounged on large whale-cushions and watched a video of these giants swimming and singing in the sea.

We exited through the gift shop, argued about over priced whale plushies, and in the rain, continued onwards to our next museum, Perlan.

Perlan

Perlan is a great vantage point looking out over Reykjavik, to the mountains around it. Of course, if it’s raining and the cloud is low, you can’t really see anything. Still, also, there’s a fabulous museum, which managed to occupy us for 5 hours. We did everything.

But first – we were hungry – and the website had promised some gourmet dining, or, more likely, a cafe that did burgers, sandwiches, etc. We paid our entry fee, took the lift to the 5th floor, no signs of any gourmet restaurant (it has closed down), and found our table in the rotating dome, and asked for menus from the cafe. “Sorry, our kitchen is closed, we have croissants?”. Hmm, how can we satisfy the hunger of a family of 4.

They did also have soup, with free refills and sides of bread and cheese and cucumber. So we ordered two soups and loaded up side plates of bread rolls to feed the kids with. The soup was very tasty, but it should have been, given it was the most expensive soup I will ever buy – two soups – £35, are you kidding me? We made the most of those “free” refills.

We did at least fill up, less grumpy, and recovered from the cost, we set about exploring the museum. First up – a water exhibit on the 2nd floor. I thought we’d fly through this, but Conway and Forrest were fascinated with the live fish and accompanying magnifying glasses, and with digital exhibits where you move around a wetland map searching for birds.

Downstairs we found a wonders of Iceland exhibit, which focused mostly on volcanoes, a light show poured fake lava across the floor, and a video showed magma bursting up and out – the boys loved it. We pretended our bums were getting hot on the illuminated stone chairs, and pretended we were in jeopardy.

Further round there were models of arctic foxes, eagles and an extinct great auk. Beyond this, a great replica of an Icelandic bird colony, nesting on a cliff – razorbills, puffins and other seabirds, crammed on the ridges, white excrement decorating the walls. Pretend viewing telescopes allowed the children to explore the wall and find hidden videos, that showed hatching pufflings, foxes stealing eggs and aggressive chicks fighting for food.

Then onto the main attraction the ice cave. We waited 10 minutes for the doors to open, and thoroughly explored the to-scale polar bear model beside us. “Wear your coats to enjoy the most. It’s -15C inside”. The ice cave is a man made replica of a glacier ice cave, and it was very cold. We put on our coats and explored. It had it’s own tunnel system, a fake moulin, some ice blocks, an ice throne to sit on, and the boys loved racing around the little tunnels, trying to catch each other – we took it slow, and had the place to ourselves for the most. And stayed until we were too cold and had to go.

Of course we followed this with ice cream and the same rotating view from lunchtime. Conway took about half an hour to eat his giant scoop of chocolate, while Forrest ate half his raspberry sorbet then ran laps around the restaurant, with either mummy or daddy in tow (with short breaks in between to just stop and lie on the floor).

All the play suddenly stopped when we realised it was 4pm and we could run downstairs to the planetarium and see the Aurora show – we were a couple of minutes late, went right down to the front, lay back on the chairs and stared upwards, as a 360 show treated us to the wonders of the northern lights and their mythology.

Conway asked to see the puffins again, so we finished up at the bird wall again, drove home via a supermarket for supplies, cooked fajitas, and got the boys to sleep.

Now to work out what to do tomorrow, more rain, but we’ve done all the best “on a rainy day” activities. Hmm.

So after waking early, getting the boys through breakfast (complimentary Cornflakes), packing our day bags, and getting out – we felt a little pressure to make the most of the day, but weren’t quite sure how.

We started by meandering down to the sea, and walking along to the Sun Voyager statue, by Jón Gunnar Árnason, meant to represent a boat on a voyage to undiscovered territory. The stainless steel reflected the silvery sky and blue water, and against the snowy hills behind, their caps obscured by low cloud, it all came together like magic. This was our voyage into the unknown, a first trip since the beginning of the pandemic, and a first with two kids.

Out of the harbour we saw a boat leaving, possibly a whale watching tour. Whale watching was on our todo list, and thinking about it, that’s not something we’d want to do in rough weather and driving rain. We set off along the coast to find a booking office, purchased tickets for a 1pm boat ride, and then marched back to our apartment to get suitable clothing – thermals? Wet weathers? Hats and gloves? Let’s just take it all. Then we marched back to the harbour, putting both boys in the buggy, one sitting on the other’s lap, which they oddly enjoyed.

Of course we needn’t have rushed, there was plenty of time. We had lunch in the harbour at a coffee shop called Rost, where our open sandwich lunch of smoked salmon and smoked lamb, came almost immediately. The boys shared a slice of sourdough with peanut butter, bananas and cinnamon, then argued over their dinosaurs.

All aboard

We boarded our boat Andrea. Kids under 6 need to wear a life jacket at all times. Right, that’ll be fun. For the first hour of the journey we attempted to wrestle them into fluorescent oversized orange floatation devices. There were screams, undoing of zips, and discarded life jackets. This was not going well.

We eventually found a truce – they would stay below deck, where they wouldn’t need to wear one, and where it was warmer, where they could still see the ocean. Although of course they were dressed in thermals and jumpers, so everyone began to overheat.

Outbound the boat was fighting against the current, crashing through waves and rocking, side to side and up and down. Now today the sea was calm, but the to-and-fro began to nauseate – and looking at Conway’s face I feared he might be getting seasick. As it turned out, it was only Samantha who was feeling worse for wear, and Conway perked up as soon as he had a chocolate muffin. Forrest cheered up once his zealous battle against the torturous orange life jacket was in the past.

As we left the shores of Iceland, the snowy hills disappeared, and the boat was flanked by flying fulmars. Our captain was using birds to try and spot the whales. Recent trips had seen humpbacks, dolphins and a minke whale. The boat kept on going, but by 3 hours in the commentary on this trip talked about “patience” and “luck”, it was clear this journey was turning up nothing. And then the sea was plunged into mist, where any chance of spotting something dropped to almost zero.

Almost zero. Our captain had a call on the radio, a nearby boat had seen a humpback, and we were rushing to their side. Samantha stayed downstairs with boys, trying to control them both, help them see the whale, and stay in control of her stomach. I rushed to the front of the boat, outside, finding a gap by the railings, one arm holding on tightly, the other trying to control the camera. I braced the cold wind, I didn’t have time to put my jumper back on, and hoped to see something, better still to get a photo.

Then there it was, at 11 o’clock, the dorsal fin of a humpback whale, rising slightly above the waterline, a hiss of the whale breathing, and then gone again. The whale was circling, unusual behaviour we were told, and we were lucky to watch it for a while. Here in Iceland they’re only feeding, they are not breeding or trying to impress females, so no whale is going to be breaching, our expectations were properly set.

Many more times the dorsal fin rose up and out of the water, and for just a couple of moments, if you looked in the right place, you could catch sight of its head peeking out, then diving again, the bumpy snout just about visible. As short and surprising as each glimpse was, it was exhilarating.

Back downstairs, I found that the boys had seen it too, “I saw its head daddy”, Conway said. And Forrest motioned that he’d seen a whale too. Mummy was doing ok, but needed to rest for the boat ride back. It was a relief that this wasn’t all for nothing. The boat ride back was smoother, travelling with the waves, and the boys entertained themselves, marching around the lower deck of the boat with fliers on their heads pretending to be narwhals or rolling them up and pretending they were telescopes.

Back on land, we picked up supplies from a Bonus supermarket, cooked pasta and got the boys to sleep, and we promptly fell asleep too. They were tired, and our step count read 14,000, that’s a lot for little legs.

Early in the morning

Up and out at 7am, no mean feat with the two kids, we walked in the rain to Early in the morning, an upmarket cafe with modern decor. On a plush green velvet seat the boys got out their Cars and Planes toys, and quietly played while we waited for food.

We had two full-English breakfasts and extra sausages and beans, with complimentary coffee, juice and Icelandic skyr yoghurt. The boys didn’t take to the slightly-smoked hot dog sausages (our pleads of “it’s sausage” did not work).

We got the menu choices that offered the most food, trying to maximise our value for money – given how very expensive all food is in Iceland. For example, these breakfasts cost us about 2,500 IKR each, which was about £17.

Thankfully it was all very tasty, and a good thing we’d arrived early, as the chef didn’t have his waiter, so was soon run off his feet as the cafe filled up.

Samantha didn’t have any coffee – they don’t do decaf, decaf is not a thing in Iceland, it’s almost “offensive”, apparently. Most places had free refill filter-coffee, so I drank a lot.

The Lava Tunnel at Raufarhólshellir

Our gamble was a trip to a lava tunnel, our hotel receptionist described this as something doable on a rainy day – it doesn’t rain in a cave.

Explore the magnificent lava tunnel Raufarhólshellir, one of the longest and best-known lava tubes in Iceland. It is located just 30 minutes from Reykjavík and is easily accessed year round.

From Reykjavik we drove south-east, and as we ascended into the hills, the snow-lined roads were engulfed in thick cloud – where views of snowy landscapes disappeared into a boundless fog.

This was our first proper drive into Iceland’s landscape, the well-lit dual carriageway from Keflavik to Reykjavik didn’t count. We’d booked our rental with some trepidation – in the weeks before we travelled Iceland had heavy snow – what would we be driving in? I closely monitored road conditions using the Færð og veður app, spying webcams and watching visibility.

All major roads in Iceland are lined with yellow reflective markers, every 10 metres or so, meaning roads are usually visible even in thick blizzards and snow drifts. Given what weather Iceland could throw at us, this fog was fairly mild, but we took it slow and let other drivers overtake.

We needed to keep an eye-out for the turning, there was a signpost, and then out of nowhere a thin gravel road flew by, that was it, but it didn’t seem to go anywhere in this fog. We briefly reconsidered, then turned around and drove very, very slowly until we found the turning. From out of the fog, a flagpole and a small visitor centre, this was the right place.

Now to assess whether our 2 and 4yr old could cope with this. But Forrest was now asleep. Probably best not to attempt this with a woken-from-slumber grumpy child that we’d need to carry. We decided that Conway and I should both go, while Sam waited in the car. Getting Conway to go was it’s own challenge – he was very shy and nervous, and really not keen on putting crampons beneath his snow boots, or wearing an orange helmet with head-torch.

With what I can only describe as careful and positive parenting, I gently coaxed him into it – his helmet, like his cycling helmet, his crampons, like his daddy’s, the nice lady who helped us was kind and patient and let him choose coloured clips for his crampons. By the time he was in the gear and we were headed through the snow to the cave entrance, I was still unsure if this was a good idea or not. “You can turn back at any time”, they said.

The first bit of the lava tunnel is the hardest, there are great gaping holes in the roof, letting in snow and ice, meaning the path is a little treacherous, and great snowball towers collect beneath the openings (a little like a cenote, which Conway has learned about in Octonauts). I held Conway’s arm, and we treaded slowly, watching others ahead slip and slide. Conway used his walking pole to balance himself, and we reached the metal boardwalk. He started to gain in confidence.

Now, it doesn’t rain in a cave – however, a lava tunnel is porous, the lava blasted small holes through all the rocks. Which means, if the snow above the cave is melting, then the melt water will come down into the cave, and in places it is exactly like rain. We also learnt that this means the water goes straight through, it doesn’t pool or flow in the cave, so deep in the cave there’s no features shaped by water, like the traditional calcium carbonate stalagmites. What’s more, and weirdly, the cave has no echo, the holes in the stones absorb any sound.

Near the start of the cave it’s cold, cold enough for the water that’s dripping through to refreeze as ice again, and the cave walls and paths are lined with beautiful icicles and icy stalagmites. It’s otherworldly.

As we descend further, it gets warmer and the ice disappears, deep inside the temperature is a stable 4C all year round.

We reached the point where the metal path ends – adventurous folk can pay more for a deeper exploration, but parents with 4yr olds do not dare. Here we all stood, turned off our headlamps, and the moody cave lights, and were plunged into darkness – and everything felt much smaller now. I’d crouched down next to Conway beforehand, fearful he might freak out in the dark – I touched his nose with mine in the dark – “see how close I am and you can’t see me”, his response? He licked me. And then the lights came back on.

On the way back, Conway now in full stride, like this was suddenly no big deal, talking all about caves and lava and ice, we stopped for photos and marvelled at ice and rock formations. One section of wall is completely glass, the hot lava turning the rock into glass that looked like teeth.

We rejoined mummy up-top, warmed up with some hot chocolate, had our packed lunch sandwiches, and then continued southwards in our car.

Small road trip

The visibility remained poor all day, but that didn’t stop us exploring the south coast a little – we opted for a shorter circle, going down to Ölfus, then stopping at the church, Strandakirkja – we hopped out the car, poked our heads over the windy sea wall at the coast, then continued.

We cut inland at route 42, and headed past the icy frozen Kleifarvatn lake, making the most of the views between the foggy patches and the buffeting wind. At the water’s edge a fleet of buses were parked, a film crew doing something moody.

From Kleifarvatn we returned to Reykjavik.

Sjávargrillið

One of our plans for staying in Reykjavik was to sample the cafe culture and go out for some nice meals. Now on our last evening, we realised we’d been too busy sightseeing and eating meals wherever was convenient that this was our last chance.

I called Sjávargrillið and booked a table for 5:30pm – “grilled seafood” kind of underplays this place, the photos did not. And they had a kid’s menu. Taking the boys out for a dinner is a risk at the moment, they get tired and fractious as it approaches their 7pm bedtime. Thankfully this was a 5 minute walk from our residence, and dinner servings began early.

When we arrived, pulling hard on the heavy door, the place was already buzzing, and we were escorted to a quiet corner with dark wood furniture. It felt Covid safe. We ordered a Strawberry basil mocktail (which the boys enjoyed trying) and a Rhubarbara cocktail – rhubarb, kaffir lime and Prosecco – it was divine.

A meal out is always a little slice of mayhem at the moment – colouring pencils mixed with cutlery, glasses collected somewhere they won’t spill, Forrest refusing a baby seat and then standing for the entirety. Tonight was no exception, but we took it all in our stride and enjoyed the most-peaceful and enjoyable evening meal we could, and it was fantastic.

We’d have loved to try the starters, but a main with dessert is probably the most we can hope for.

While the kids slept I got up and out early, putting our suitcases in the car and then walking in the light sleet/hail across town to buy breakfast – pastries from the Brauð & Co bakery, with its colourful exterior. It opened nice and early at 7am on a Sunday.

I had my fill of croissants, pain au chocolat, raspberry and custard squares (I have no idea what they were called, but they were scrumptious), and a good sourdough. Their infamous cinnamon buns weren’t ready yet.

I headed back, but swung by the closed Hallgrímskirkja church to take a closer look at this distinct and famous landmark, and its stature of Leif Erikson which sits in front.

Golden circle

We were checked out and on the road by 8am – a long day ahead of us – we’d be attempting the trio of golden circle sights – Þingvellir national park, Geysir and Gullfoss waterfall – as well as then driving north to the Snæfellsnes peninsula in the north East of Iceland. We’d clock about 7 hours of driving today.

Our two days of non-stop rain were letting up, giving us some friendlier but still overcast weather to tackle the circle, on our last opportunity before leaving the area. And obviously it was when we were at the bleakest, snowiest, furthest from anywhere point that our boy asked for a toilet stop.

We decided to tackle the attractions in an unusual order – starting with Geysir and Gullfoss, perhaps attempting the Kerid crater lake, then heading back up to Þingvellir on our way north.

Geysir

We got to the Great Geysir at 10am, just as the visitor centre was opening. By now the back of the car was covered in flakes of croissant, so too were the children’s coats. A nearby redwing bird hoovered up the bits that fell out the car.

Under duress, youngest screaming, oldest just wanting to watch things on the iPad in the car, we dragged the boys around to the active geyser, Strokkur. Not as impressive as the old great one, which stopped being active a few years back, Strokkur still performs every 10 to 15 minutes, launching huge jets of water into the air, each time a different height. Psssh, up into the sky, the air punctuated with a sulfurous aroma. We watched it go a couple of times.

It was essential that Conway tour the large gift shop, he tried out the plastic viking swords and axes, but refused to don the helmet for a full outfit. And the disabled loo was the perfect place to wrangle everyone into their thermals, wet weathers off then on again, coats doing the hokey-cokey, so is the way.

Gullfoss

Gullfoss waterfall was a similarly brief trip, once we’d got there, each parent did a reccy, then we attempted the walk with the kids. This was the coldest, bitterest, windiest bit of Iceland we encountered. From the car to the river (via a great off-road coach with giant wheels) we walked head on into buffeting winds, we wore face masks just to keep our noses warm.

Gullfoss itself is a huge, thunderous, multi-layer waterfall, and it’s beautiful. But our boys weren’t much interested in the beauty as the freezing wind pulled the water from their eyes – they quickly retired for hot chocolate (or a nap). I hung back to take some photos, I wore gloves, but couldn’t feel my finger tips – I took an obligatory “this is pleasant” selfie.

We left Gullfosskaffi around 2pm, and still with 4hrs of driving ahead of us, we decided, with a heavy heart, to skip the crater.

Þingvellir

We returned along route 35, 37 then 36 back to the Thingvellir (an anglicised spelling) visitor centre. This time around Conway was asleep when we arrived, mummy read her book with him while I took Forrest out in the buggy.

Thingvellir is a national park and UNESCO world heritage site. It is steeped in history as the site of Iceland’s first parliament, since the year 930, where it continued until 1798. It is also an amazing geological site – sat between the great European and American continental tectonic plates, there are great fissures and valleys caused by continental drift.

With Forrest in his buggy, we took the path through the Almannagjá gorge, which marks the boundary of the Mid-Atlantic Rift. He pointed out all the places where holes and caverns had formed in the walls, and suggested we tiptoe, because there might be bears in there. Each clump of ice and snow was just as exciting.

We also greatly enjoyed the little pool and waterfall, where we marvelled at the noise of the falls, and great chunks of ice that floated about in it. It’s called Drekkingarhylur, which translates to “drowning pool”, and is an old execution site – I’m glad I only found this out now. It’s still very pretty.

Once Conway was awake he and mummy visited the viewing platform, with views out across the lake and distant mountains, and when they joined us we showed them where all the bears live and the waters flow.

Of all the golden circle sites this was our favourite, it was warmer and less windy, there was lots to see, and we had a lot of fun messing around up and down the main path, or slipping on the snow to get to lower paths for a spot of landscape photography. We’d have liked to spend more time here, but it was time to go.

Our return saw us reach the visitor centre too late, it had closed by 5pm, so in the back of the car we gathered together the food morsels we had into some sort of meal – jam and crisp sandwiches in the backseats, what could possibly go wrong.

To Stykkishólmur

Once the boys were settled, we put on Encanto on the iPad and set off for our final long drive, about 2h30 north. We followed Route 1, through the Hvalfjörður tunnel, beneath the fjord, up to Borgarnes, where we took route 54 then route 56. Thankfully it was still light as we travelled the riskiest leg of the journey, through the Snaefellsnes peninsula mountains – where webcams had showed snow and poor visibility – but today it was all clear, and it would stay that way throughout our stay.

For our first ever Christmas holiday, until now every Christmas has been spent in the UK at a family home, we’d be spending the holiday season high up in the Italian Alps, in Torre Di Santa Maria. It’s a small town north of Sondrio, nestled in a valley half way up the mountain. It sits just south of Chiesa and the ski park at Valmalenco.

We travelled with Nana, driving from Brighton to Gatwick, and flying to Milan Malpensa. Meanwhile Amanda and Mitch, Conway’s aunt and uncle, took a more scenic route – driving from Munich through Austria and Switzerland, and through the snow. They brought with them the Christmas essentials – a turkey, minced pies and Christmas pudding, homemade rum truffles, supplies and plenty of presents. Their silver mini-SUV was packed full.

From Milan Malpensa, a mild 15C, we picked up our hire car, a pristine white Audi A4, automatic. This luxury car was cheaper than the standard, so why not? We switched from one to another and paid a bit more for winter tyres, no snow chains thank you. I’d fretted too long about winter driving, snowy roads, blizzards and mountain slopes. Three suitcases, a buggy and all the hand luggage fit neatly into the back and we were off. Making sure to drive on the right side of the road.

It’s a 2 hour drive from Milan to the mountains, and most of it is flat. In the late afternoon sunshine we passed the outskirts of Milan, took a detour through Seregno, zipped by Lecco, and hugged the SS36 alongside Lake Como. I was looking forward to a beautiful and scenic drive alongside the lake, but the SS36 is all tunnel and every glimpse of tranquility is fleeting. We didn’t make this mistake on the way home.

The road turns East and becomes the SS38, following a river between two mountain ranges, its the gateway to the Alps and the only route into Sondrio. Either side of us great mountains rise up, those to the north are snow capped. Smoke from wood burning fires hangs in the valley like a mist over each settlement.

At Sondrio we stopped at Lidl for milk and pizza, then push upwards for the final stretch – a winding but well maintained road into the mountains. Hairpins and steep gradients made easy by our automatic.

It was still mild, 5C, and there was no snow – significantly warmer than we expected, warmer than last week, and not cold enough for the thermals we’d packed or gifted as Xmas presents.

Mitch and Amanda arrived just before us, parked in the garage and had began unpacking. Our Airbnb host, an effusive Italian, Luca, greeted them and then us.

The house had space for two cars – a garage and a drive. The driveway required some magical right-angle turn from a steep and narrow road to squeeze between two tight concrete walls. Our estate didn’t look like such a good idea now. I naively attempted this feat, I asked the car to breathe in to make itself thinner, and Luca and Mitch guided me, with clearance of just a few centimetres, a bit of skidding in mud, and all the car’s proximity sensors beeping we got the car in. But I’d need to do the same again in reverse to get it out. And of course I should have just parked it in the free car park over the road.

“That’s a rich man’s city car, not a car for the mountains”, Luca said, “You have insurance?”. The car was powerful enough to do what we needed with ease, and plenty of people were driving them, but he spooked me and made me worry about driving higher into the mountains, where roads were more treacherous, with my pregnant wife and toddler – which we still did, and which was absolutely fine.

B&B Bernina

Our Airbnb (which has its own website) had 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms spread over 3 floors. A modern concrete building, rooms and corridors wrapped a central stairwell, it was a long way to the top.

Our Italian home felt like a burrow to hibernate in and shelter from the cold mountains, the outside was hidden. There was underfloor heating throughout, and a wood burning fireplace on the ground floor – keeping us cosy and (a little too) warm. Each window had heavy duty electronic shutters, to shut out the winter and the neighbours.

There were some views, but only if you smushed your face against a window and twisted your neck upwards, where you might glimpse the snowy dust billowing from the mountaintop as the orange evening light disappears from the tip.

We took the top floor – a big double bed with en-suite and an adjoining room for Conway to sleep in, high above everyone else so that night time crying wouldn’t disturb anyone.

The chic polished concrete was decorated with a mixture of art, antique and IKEA. A sparse Christmas tree sat in the corner, abstract oil paintings adorned the walls, a turquoise nude mannequin (“no socks”, Conway exclaimed) stands in the downstairs loo and there’s an ornate metal meat mincer. Rooms are peppered with antique winter paraphernalia and old wooden skis rest beside the dining table.

We settled in, unpacked and ate ravioli, before bed.

On our first full day in Torre Di Santa Maria we sought only to get supplies. Christmas week opening hours were deemed unreliable, though as it turns out, most things were open most of the time.

After cereal, toast and freshly made cake from our attentive hosts, everyone but me and Conway headed out to Sondrio to get everything we’d need for the week – a big shop at Iperal. (Though not before I painstakingly backed the car out of the drive and into a more convenient car park).

Dad and son stayed at home to explore the town, go to the park and take in our surroundings, and when we’d had enough of the warm outside sunshine we went back in and watched Frozen.

Torre Di Santa Maria

Torre Di Santa Maria is a sleepy little commune built upon the side of a valley – high enough above a river to avoid spring water floods, and low enough that the land isn’t too steep to build on. Snow tops the peaks on either side. The main road passes it by at the riverside. About 800 people live here.

The valley looks directly south and the sun shines straight through, illuminating both sides for a few hours while its low winter path props it above the hills. With the sun hiding, the cold comes quickly.

From the children’s park, with its slide, roundabout, swings and rocking rocket, Conway and I explored. The sky was full of seeds and leaves, spinning round and round, they rained from the forests as if in slow motion. Smoke drifted amongst them and there was a subtle odour of burning wood. There’s a distant sound of a stream, and every hour church bells punctuate the quiet.

Houses are built from stone and they hug the roads tightly, like the passage of cars over a century has eroded the roads into place. Old Italian Fiats sit on cobbles in all the nooks. Small shops here and there sell peculiar assortments – like a cheese shop with a selection of children’s toys.

Settling-in

Post-shop, the family brought back with them cheeses, and olives and cured meats, alcohols, biscuits and crisps. Pregnant Samantha had made sure she had a fine selection of hard cheeses and alternatives, like sharp apple juice for mulling.

Our host’s father introduced himself, he’d pop-in occasionally to tend the fire, he had only a little English, so we (or those of us who could) spoke with him in German.

For dinner we had pizza, the fire raging safely behind the glass, and when Conway was sleeping we played UNO.

For Christmas Eve, which is also Mitch’s birthday, we asked our host Luca to book a table at a special restaurant, La Tana Del Grillo. He’d told us about a place high up in the mountains, one you can’t drive to. It’s in Chiareggio, a town that’s cut off from the world by snow in winter. To get there we’d need to drive as far as we could, park, then wait for a snowmobile to pick us up and bring us the rest of the way. A perfect Christmas Eve activity.

We began the morning with a big breakfast, coffee, fresh cake and by giving Mitch his birthday presents – including an iron skillet. We were up and out by 11am, taking two cars up the mountain, beneath clear blue skies.

We drove out across the river, away from our sleepy town, going north and up, to Chiesa, then beyond to Valrosera, Vallascia and San Giuseppe. The occasional tight hairpin and steep gradient, the mountain road wound around and around, and up and up. Snow began to appear on the roadside, then on the trees, and then there were piles and piles. Our route brought us through “Serpentinoscisto”, a sequence of 18 hairpins and steep slopes, and up into a winter wonderland.

Luca’s instructions were to keep driving until we reached a stop sign, and it’d be obvious we can go no further. And he was right. The road ended with a car park, and beyond the sign the road was feet deep in snow.

When bringing Conway to the mountains for Christmas we’d envisaged playing in the snow – snowmen, toboggans, snow balls, snow angels, smiles and laughter. Conway had other ideas – he’d never seen snow before and he didn’t want any part of it. He refused to put his coat on, “I’m not cold” he said, and he wouldn’t let his feet touch the snow, let alone play. We wrestled him into his thick coat and hat. Daddy had to carry him.

It wasn’t long before our snowmobile arrived to pick us up. Like a blue jet ski for snow, towing two trailers with seats, we all clambered on. Conway sat between mummy and daddy, a look of uncertainty on his face. Mitch sat up front, on the back of the snowmobile itself.

A jolt, and we’re off. Somewhere between sliding and bumping, we bounced through the snowy wilderness, through pine forests and around the bottom of mountains, “bumpy”, Conway said. Chalets were boarded up and empty for winter, great mounds of snow clung to their rooftops. Small towns sat dormant. After half an hour we reached a place where the lights were on, and smoke billowed from chimneys.

La Tana Del Grillo is a traditional Italian restaurant, in a traditional alpine chalet. Pine wood lines the walls, a stag head watches over. We sat along a long table, and Conway was all smiles and laughter now we’re inside, in the warm, away from that funny white stuff. Through the windows we can see the snowy mountains, and then it begins to snow, and our idyllic Christmas Eve is complete.

We ordered pasta and meat dishes each, I went for the Roe deer steak, “who ordered bambi?” the waitress asked.

During lunch Conway began to look sleepy, and he soon nodded off in my arms while I tried to eat my steak around him. We transferred him to mummy to nap some more, and the rest of us ran out into the snow to enjoy it. I wandered up and down the path, looking for views down into the snowy valley where a river runs, while Mitch, Amanda and Nana fought with snowballs and fell about in the deep but soft snow. One wrong foot and you found yourself up to your knees in the snow.

We headed back down the hill on a different snowmobile, the return route faster and bumpier. When Conway woke he was sleepy and grumpy, and was in no mood for photos in the snow. At the bottom we took family pictures in the dying light of the afternoon, then headed back down the mountain, around the hairpins once more, just before dark.

Prepping for Xmas day

Most of the evening was spent prepping for Christmas dinner – Samantha and Amanda made their list of dishes, with times that everything must come in or come out of the oven. Nana introduced Mitch to her Christmas ritual of watching Santa Claus: The Movie, the one with Dudley Moore.

It’s Christmas Day! The turkey is on, and there are presents under the Christmas tree. And we’re all together in the alps. We carry Conway downstairs, “Look”, we say, “Presents!”. We ask him if Santa brought them, “No” he says, as though we’re fools, “mummy and daddy brought them”, he’s 2.

Conway picks up each present and gives them out. He carefully undoes the bows and strings on his gifts, until he gets present fatigue and asks daddy to open them for him. There are new socks, new toys, headphones, an American football, handbags, and even tickets to see Queen. The floor is strewn with paper and string and bits of new toys.

Outside there’s glorious sunshine, I take Conway out to the park while everyone else prepares Christmas dinner. We soak up the sun and the quietness as the vegetables are getting peeled. From the park we look around town, up at the church all is quiet – the morning service is over, we heard the bells ring. Conway is sleepy, but not asleep, and as the turkey, potatoes and carrots roast, and as the sweet potato casserole cooks above the fire, we watch the original Toy Story and the smell of red wine and roast dinner fills the room.

Dinner’s ready! And on the table there’s turkey with all the trimmings, bread sauce, roast potatoes, red cabbage and cinnamon, sprouts, stuffing, pigs in blankets, Italian sausage balls, gravy, sweet potato casserole, roasted carrots and onions. “Cheers”, “Merry Christmas”, and we clink our glasses and plastic cups together. Quite an achievement delivering this feast in an unknown kitchen, with a turkey brought from Germany. And it was delicious. We followed it up with mince pies, an alcohol doused Christmas pudding set alight, and lots and lots of cream. And the rest of the day was spent digesting and drinking.

Mummy and daddy go upstairs to open their presents to each other, and Conway helps. And once Conway was asleep we whiled away the hours playing Rummikub and listening to music.

After our day of turkey, presents and chocolate, we needed to get up and out and back up the mountain. Luca recommended Caspoggio, a small town on a mountain to the East, a short drive – it would have child friendly toboggan slopes and an ice rink. We drove out in convoy, across the river then up into the town.

Caspoggio sits on the north face of the mountain, and against the clear blue skies of the morning everything was in a cold and dark shade. We parked, and found the hill with friendly slopes – it was closed while a machine was pumping out snow onto it.

Like on Christmas Eve, Conway was unsettled and didn’t want to be out in the snow. He refused to put on his coat, “I’m not cold”, he said, standing there in his jumper while everyone else has jumpers, coats, hats, gloves. And I carried him. After half an hour we gave up and changed plans. We dropped Samantha and Conway off at the Airbnb and the rest of us headed back out to Valmalenco Ski Resort.

We parked at the Funivia Snow Eagle cable car, and took the vertigo inducing journey up the steep steep incline. High above the town and valley we rose. The sudden changes in air pressure wouldn’t be good for Samantha, who’s 6 months pregnant. The four of us, in our coats and walking boots, were surrounded by all the day’s skiers, high-vis jackets, brightly coloured ski coats, ski boots and skis – we felt a little out of place. At the top I put my head out over the top of the cable car station, and looked straight down.

The cable car arrives at Valmalenco ski resort, which is part of Palu Park. We shuffled across the snow in our boots as people flung themselves down the slopes with great speed. From the cable car there’s another car that takes you down to the main resort, where the ski-hire shops, toilets and cafes live.

Amanda hired a toboggan, and Mitch pushed her down a friendly slope, while Heather and I ate croissants, chips and drank espresso outside in the warm winter sunshine.

Palu Park is meant to have a beautiful alpine lake, and from the slopes there’s a short walk to get to it, if only we could find it. The maps all suggested you needed to ski there. We tried what looked like a little path in the right direction, we crossed the slopes and dodged all the flying skis to get to it. Through the forest we smushed through the snow and stopped for snow angels. The route brought us to some chalets and a bar, and some more slopes, but no lake. Ah well, it was probably all frozen and covered in snow anyway.

The cable car back down was all the more cramped, and I was happy we hadn’t squished a toddler and a pregnant woman in here with us. A girl was on her way down on a stretcher too.

Back at home we fried up all the Christmas vegetables and left over turkey to make bubble and squeak, which we introduced to Mitch. “Bubble and squeak?”, yeah, that’s the noise it makes while you cook it.

Later everyone else headed into Sondrio for one final shopping trip, while Conway watched The Gruffalo and we packed.

In the evening we tried to teach everyone Carcassonne, and Conway sat on his high chair with his own set of tiles and meeples, which he dutifully arranged and played with. The game ran on a bit and Conway got overtired, and we learnt a valuable lesson – do not give a very tired child any ice cream, especially chocolate. Now we had an overtired child with too much energy.

A drive home via Lake Como

We packed up all the cars, cleared the Airbnb and said our goodbyes. Amanda and Mitch were driving north into Switzerland for a couple of days, while we would drive out of the mountains, back to Milan for our flight home.

The traffic coming into the mountains was horrendous, queue after queue on the single road in – the first weekend after Christmas, all the Italians were coming for their winter break. Thankfully we were headed the other way, away from Sondrio, through the tunnels and towards Lake Como, where we’d take a scenic drive.

I’d wanted to see Lake Como for years, it was on my shortlist of honeymoon destinations 10 years ago. We took an exit from the highway, which was all tunnel, and drove down the hillside to the water’s edge, parking at the station in Bellano.

By the edge of a misty Lake Como, where the sunlight scattered amongst the southern peaks, and the snow sat clear and crisp on the northern ones, we sat on a quiet bench and ate our turkey sandwiches. Conway enjoyed the ducks which paid us a visit. Then we meandered about the town, following the water, until it was time to get going.

We carried on along the lakeside, driving all the way to Lecco, via Gittana, Perledo, Varenna and Lierna. It was beautiful. Samantha and Heather arched their necks up, to see the steep hills either side, their peaks sometimes wrapped in fluffy white clouds. The views out across the lake were stunning. I drove slowly while Eluvium and Ludovico Einaudi were our serene soundtrack to this wonderful place.

From Lecco it’s all highways back to the airport, we returned the car, flew home, then drove home on the left. Our escape to Italy for Christmas was over, and tonight we slept soundly in our own beds, Conway especially pleased to see his beloved cot and soft toys.

Whenever we mentioned our family holiday to Florida, it was assumed we were going to Disney World – “it’s not really our thing” we replied. For our first week we’d focus on the wedding, staying with close family in an Airbnb on Longboat key. For our second week we drove up to Georgia and Jekyll Island. Between these we’d visit Cape Canaveral, and on our last day, yes, for one day, because we were flying home from Orlando, we paid a visit to Disney’s Magic Kingdom.

Brighton to Longboat key

We flew with Sam’s mum, on a 7 hour Virgin Atlantic flight to Orlando. Having 3 adults to 1 baby made the flight easier, and in seats offering a bassinet and extra legroom, we played and entertained each other, the time passed by, and we didn’t need our TV screens or movies.

We rented a car big enough for 3 adults, baby, luggage and buggy (or stroller as we’ve come to know it). That meant a mid-sized SUV, still a small vehicle on America’s roads. We rented through Alamo, and after landing (and a brief foray at customs where we decided to declare some clementines rather than leave them on the plane – don’t do this, it’s not worth it), we picked our car – “pick any one you want, the keys are on the dashboard”.

In our white Hyundai Tucson automatic we pulled out of the parking lot and into Florida’s bright sunshine, aircon blasting, Apple maps giving directions – our destination 3 hours away. After a brief mixup, a wrong turn and a U-turn, we were travelling West along FL-417 then the interstate I-4. Wide lanes, and plenty of space made driving easy, though Orlando’s evening rush slowed us down. We drove past the turning for Disney World, a Mickey Mouse eared pylon indicating Disney’s territory.

Spotify played a calming yoga playlist, and Conway slept in his new oversized car seat. We kept going all the way to Fruitville, Sarasota, the bridge to St. Armand’s then north to our condo. Harry’s convenience store gave us all the immediate reserves we needed.

Longboat key condo

The pictures of our Airbnb condo made it look diminutive. It was not, and it welcomed us with high ceilings, light rooms and comfortable furnishings. It looked East, out onto Sarasota bay, visible through classic Venetian blinds and palms and yacht masts. An outdoor balcony sat above a lush blue swimming pool.

In the bay we watched brown pelicans, fishing bald eagles and once in a while a dolphin or two would surface close by.

At dawn the morning sun turned everything a glorious rich orange.

We’d given ourselves enough time before the wedding activities to acclimatise and relax. On our first day it was all about overcoming jet lag, getting Conway onto the right timezone, eating and trying to relax. We were up early, and had porridge (oatmeal) and coffee for breakfast.

Sam, Conway and Sam’s mum (Nana) enjoyed a swim in the pool, a bald eagle overlooked them from a nearby tree. I tidied, and then while Conway napped – for 3 hours – Sam and Nana drove to Publix to buy lunch.

The bride and groom to be joined us for lunch, and we ate delicious fresh pastrami with pickles, cheese, chips and ginger ale.

The loft at Euphemia Haye

Around 5:30 we grew hungry, and realised that despite the morning’s trip to buy food, we didn’t actually have anything for dinner. This would be the only night we could have dinner with Nana, we quickly got our things together and headed out to find a restaurant.

Euphemia Haye was nearby, and its one of the best restaurants in the area, offering a fine dining experience – they didn’t have a table, but – they did have space upstairs in The Loft – a separate and more casual affair, with some of the same fantastic food. Nana and I ordered expensive duck, Sam had a prawn Cesar salad and Conway – as usual – got the best pickings from all of us – and a free banana he’d spied on the dessert counter.

We rounded out the meal with two giant slices of key lime pie to go.

Conway was soon au fait with our condo, he was just tall enough to open some of the doors, he ventured into the kitchen and explored all the cupboards, he kicked and threw his beach ball off the walls, and danced when we put music on. This morning he ate porridge in a new pink polo shirt, outside a flock of pelicans flew by.

The beach at Longboat key

This morning, before it got too hot, I took some time out to find a route to the beach. As the crow flies it’s super close, but the road is lined with private mansions and private beach access, and there’s no obvious way through.

A 10 minute walk north and there’s public beach access, to a pristine beach with soft glowing sand, calm blue water, washed up shells and seabirds. Ruddy turnstones, willets, sandpipers, sanderlings and laughing gulls peruse the wet sands. Later in the year you’d find turtle tracks too.

We ate our take-home key lime pie on the balcony, the sugary sweetness of 2 slices still too much when divided by three. Nana left with the to-be weds and best man, firstly to help buy all the wedding booze, then going on to stay with the parents of the groom. They were running errands all day – up and down the county buying things, finding things, getting suits, picking up guests from the airport and more.

The distances between things

In Brighton we walk everywhere – from our flat we stroll into town, go to the beach, do our shopping or go to appointments. Everything is accessible on foot. Longboat key, and by extension Florida and the USA are the opposite, places are designed for big cars – roads are wide, parking lots big and plentiful, and everything spread out. This took some getting used to.

We needed to hop in the car for everything, and then, particularly from Longboat key, everything is at least a 10 minute drive. It’s 10 minutes to the nearest shop, but 40 minutes to most places in Sarasota or Bradenton, where the wedding chores were. If you’re in a car, the massive parking lot means parking is always easy – the ‘where will I park’ anxiety that comes with driving in England isn’t a thing here. There’s always a space. It’s just, to get from a shop to the one next door, you need to drive too.

While Samantha and Conway napped, I took a trip to Publix and we cooked a chilli con carne.

Baby’s first waves

We live by the sea, but since Conway has been walking we haven’t been down to the waterfront – it’s been winter and the water is shockingly cold. When the afternoon had cooled, and we wouldn’t instantly melt into a pool of sweat, we took the stroller out to the beach.

We covered ourselves in SPF50 sun lotion, donned summer hats, and stepped through the sands down to the sea. We let Conway meander to the water’s edge in his blue beach shoes, and when the waves washed in and covered his feet he giggled with glee. With each wave there was excited laughter, mummy lifted him and they played at dodging the waves, or just embraced the cool sea water, wide smiles on our faces.

Fondue

I stayed at home to babysit while Sam joined the wedding party and family for an evening meal of fondue in Sarasota. Grandad (and father of the bride), landed in Tampa, and he would be staying with us for 4 days.

With everyone now in the US, some of us gathered again for breakfast. Bridesmaids, bride and groom, other halves and granddad all gathered around a high table at Gulf Drive Cafe for a proper American breakfast.

There were pancakes, cheese grits, eggs over easy, maple syrup, tacos, toast and jelly. Grandad was bamboozled by the egg options – he asked for fried, and when our server listed the types his face became one of bewilderment like she was speaking another language, to our amusement. I also tried to eat some pancakes without maple syrup, which is a crime. Conway snacked on little bits from all of us, but mostly stacked all the plastic jelly and jam pots before knocking them down and starting again.

Hen do

Activities were planned for last night, but jet lag, a day of driving, and dinner finishing later, meant all the girls were falling asleep rather than partying. They postponed until today – and after breakfast they all went down the beach to The Beach House restaurant, for celebratory drinks and some quality time. Leaving us lads to drink and play cornhole on the beach, getting slowly coated in salt from the sea spray. Conway tried his hand at the game, picking up the beanbags and throwing them, but soon resorting to climbing the ramps and putting the bags directly in the hole – usually as someone was trying to take their turn.

Wedding rehearsal

After a brief shopping trip to Publix – and a delicious Pub sub, we recouped and regrouped at the house where most of the wedding party were staying – a grand building above a double garage and besides a canal, it was a friend of a friend’s place.

We all ate takeaway pizza and had drinks in the garden, by the water’s edge – where we could watch random fish leap above the water. Conway ran around, unwilling to be held, he needed a full time adult to protect him from the canal, the swimming pool, the stairs and garden ornaments. He ate pizza and his cheesy greasy fingers threatened many dresses with ruin. By the pool, groomsmen and bridesmaids practiced the ceremony, led by the groom’s mom.

I brought Conway home early, the evening already late – in the night sky I found the first star and showed him, “Star” he said, I told him the stars will always be there, for his whole life. “Buy-bye” he said to the star, as we got in the car to drive home.

Wedding day

The wedding would begin at 4pm, on Coquina beach. In the morning I drove into Bradenton to pick up the bouquet, and some “baby’s breath” – a wispy white flower – the florist showed me, hardy and pretty stuff you can put everywhere. I picked up maid of honour Samantha and she and the flowers went to the house to prepare – makeup, dress, hair, and so on.

For Grandad, Conway and me it was a quiet day, as everyone was getting ready elsewhere we played with wooden cars and beach balls, sat on the balcony with coffee and ate lunch. Three dolphins lifted up above the water right in front of us to our amazement. The bay was busy with weekend boats, and we watched groups prep and set sail from the little marina by our pool.

At 2pm we began to get ready, Conway in his little grey suit, me in my big grey suit, Grandad in his – white shirt rather than pink – he thought he hadn’t packed it. Frustratingly we hadn’t managed to get Conway to nap – now nearing the wedding he would be growing sleepy.

I dropped Grandad – father of the bride – at the house, and with another wedding guest we drove up to the beach, traffic was busy for the weekend and the car park boiling over. Conway fell asleep in the car, and in the hot afternoon I carried him beneath the pines to the gathering of guests – we would all wait in the shade until the last moment, a little electric fan kept baby cool. When the limo carrying bride and all was spotted we all dashed out to our seats on the open beach.

In the hot sunshine Conway stirred, he woke up and began to cry. It was so hot, and he wanted his mummy. Nana and I did our best to comfort him and give him shade, but he was having none of it. Here comes the bride, in her beautiful white dress, Grandad on her arm, groom waiting by the arch. Everyone on the beach stopped to watch, they filmed it on their phones, they cheered. Oh, poor baby, crying at the wrong moment. Mummy followed in her sleek blue dress, bridesmaids behind, and Conway couldn’t go to her yet, and the crying kicked up a notch. I took him away, back to the shade, and back beneath the pines he quietened.

The wedding continued, behind the sand dune. We heard cheers, and with baby in arms we watched husband and wife head back down the aisle, clapping and cheering all around for the happy couple. And as they had their photos taken, sunglasses on, Conway got to breastfeed beneath a parasol.

We drove in to Bradenton for the reception, our car’s aircon cooling us all down, we had to stop at the bridge, it was open to let all the weekend boats through. We arrived before the limo, and watched newlyweds, groomsmen, bridesmaids and mother of the bride get out in style. There’d been whisky in there too.

Everyone applauded and cheered, as one by one bridesmaids and the happy couple were introduced and took their seats for food. We ate Cracker Barrel fried chicken, macaroni cheese, beef, ’slaw and salad. There were speeches and bridesmaids tag-teamed hilariously. They danced their first dance and wedding photos were taken outside – in the calm evening light, palms silhouetted against a Florida sunset. They cut the cake and attacked each other with icing, the bottom tier was chocolate and peanut butter and it was oh so good.

Music played, and Conway ran about, excited by everything and all the attention, he danced, he played with other children, he hugged the bride and played in her dress, he tried to get behind the bar, or work out the water cooler, he loved Nana’s dress, and he held on tight to the bride as she threw her bouquet. He jiggled his little feet, and rocked his shoulders, swayed his head, all with a wide-eyed grin, he had the best night, and he carried on, all the way through until the end, when he fell asleep as his head lay in the car seat, looking adorable in his waistcoat.

When our heads hit the pillows they had the same effect.

Following the wedding, and now that everything was done, on the calm morning after, we had one last group event – a quiet Sunday brunch. It was originally going to be at the house, but we rearranged to have it in our condo, which had plenty of space for everyone, and would be a little more chilled.

Bride and groom, bridesmaids, grandparents, mother of the groom, best man, an aunt and uncle – they all arrived in cars and joined us to eat the most fantastic American breakfast; freshly made pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, croissants, coffee, leftover macaroni cheese and fried chicken, biscuits and scones, and scrambled eggs.

The quiet

Everyone left all at once, and in the early afternoon our condo was quiet again, the music playlist nonchalantly ended itself. There was enough food left over to feed us for days. Soon everyone would be departing Longboat key – going back home, near or far, or on a honeymoon or extended holiday.

Conway found an old box, he climbed in and we whizzed around on the carpet like a race car, “more, more” he said, as dad and grandad panted, taking turns to rest.

As the afternoon cooled, and when there was shade, we stood around in the swimming pool, Conway resumed his bath time activities of pouring water from one cup to another – an activity that occupies him endlessly. We played ball too, and took turns actually swimming. Egrets, herons and pelicans flew by, and weekend boaters returned to port.

It was our last evening with Grandad tonight, or “dad dad”, as Conway has begun calling him. I put on an evening jazz playlist, and once Conway was asleep we played a game of Carcassonne together – Samantha had managed to smuggle the pieces into our luggage without me knowing so I wouldn’t complain. With IPA beer and Sangria we sat at the large glass table and fought with meeples to win the most points.

Myakka state park

Grandad’s flight wasn’t until late afternoon, if we were organised we could get up and out and have a day trip somewhere beforehand. Myakka state park was an hour away – that’s nearby in US terms – down to Sarasota and out East. We cooked up some pizzas and took them for lunch. Grandad – let’s go find some ’gators.

Myakka is one of the state’s biggest and oldest parks, but the majority of the visitor activities are concentrated along a scenic road in the north west. We bought our tickets and drove through, passing beneath the beautiful overhanging tree limbs, draped in southern Spanish moss, and stopping at the first bridge on advisement.

In the baking hot sunshine, lathered in sun lotion and sun hats on, we peered out over the edge of the concrete crossing, and down below us were the much anticipated wild alligators, three on the left bank, and one in the shade of a tree very close to us.

A little further on is the car park for a short nature trail and canopy walk. We faffed with the buggy and all the baby things, not quite sure how long it’d be, it’s not long, then we set out into the forest. Conway wore his explorer outfit, a pair of fake binoculars printed on his chest. The canopy walk sits 25 feet above the ground and is 100 feet along, apparently the first in North America – it was a little diminutive, but Conway enjoyed climbing its steps and peering out through the wooden slats. Sam was less au fait with the heights.

Grandad goes sailing most weekends, the prospect of a boat trip wasn’t exciting to him. We thought a boat would bring us closer to water birds and gators, it’d be exciting we argued. So when we arrived at the ticket office and saw one was just leaving, we didn’t really think and immediately boarded that tourist boat, one which goes out to the lake to spot things. But this was the dullest boat ride we’ve ever been on – in low tide the boat ran aground on entering the lake, 10 minutes later we were free, and chugging along at its ever so slow top speed across the water to where there might be some alligators. There were, in the distance, just about. The boat turned around and we headed back, very slowly.

It wasn’t all bad - it lulled Conway to sleep, he slept right through the whole thing. Our boat guide was a little dry, but he did tell us all about alligators – how and when they nest, how eggs near the top are males – those at the bottom female – the males get eaten by predators first, how many survive to adulthood, how big they get, and some bad jokes too. One wildlife sighting made it worth it – an Osprey flew overhead, looking for fish, a first for me to see one in the wild – a rare sight in the UK.

After our exhilarating boat journey we ate pizza and carried on along the scenic drive, to the north side of the lake where there’s a bird hide. Though not so much a hide, but a shelter from the sun that overlooked the distant water. Later in the year the lake would cover everything, but right now the water level was too low to see much.

With the clock nearing 2pm, we needed to head out and back north, to Tampa, to drop Grandad at the airport for his flight. Our drive out saw us pass a wild deer, and we stopped again at the bridge – where there were more gators, a crane, a stork, and amazingly for us – a bird top of our to see list – two roseate spoonbills.

Continuing alone to the Space Coast

With Grandad flying home to the UK, and nana leaving tomorrow (but we wouldn’t see her), the rest our our vacation would be just us. That quietness struck us on the drive home, no more extra adults to help with everything – Conway slept in the back of the Hyundai for the 2 hour drive back to Longboat key. We talked about what a fantastic time we’d had here on Florida’s west coast.

Our Airbnb rental was ending tomorrow, soon we’d be headed North to Jekyll island in Georgia, but first we had to plan the stop-over tomorrow night. Conveniently there was a SpaceX rocket launch planned from Cape Canaveral – a Falcon 9 takeoff, less conveniently it would be at 2am, two days from now.

For months I’d been following all the scheduled launches – I’d dearly hoped to see the Falcon Heavy take off on its first commercial mission, but that successfully rocketed into space a week before we arrived. This second launch was our best bet, and I’d originally bought tickets for a viewing on our first Thursday – this got delayed until Friday and moved to the early morning – all tickets got refunded. And now it’d been delayed again, until this Wednesday morning, the perfect morning for us to be there and see it. Any later and we’d be too far North in Georgia to get there.

With 1 day to go everything was still scheduled, the launch looked good, and we booked an overnight hotel in Cape Canaveral. We’d drive there first thing tomorrow. Wherein first thing turns out to be 11am after we’d spent all morning packing everything.

Kennedy Space Center

We headed straight for the Kennedy Space Center, down the NASA causeway, over the Indian river. Seeing the giant vehicle assembly building on the horizon sent shivers down my spine. There’s so much history here, so much accomplishment, it’s like in all the movies. Scenes from Contact sprung to mind as black pelicans flew over. And just as the anticipation was building – a sign – flashing – it told us the upcoming launch was delayed a day. Just hours ago it was still on. We’d miss the SpaceX launch, the ISS wasn’t ready and NASA had asked for the resupply mission to be postponed. Slightly deflated, but still excited to see all the space things – we continued to KSC, parked, bought our multi-day ticket and rushed into the complex.

It was 2pm, giving us just enough time to take the bus tour and see the Apollo Saturn V center. We ran around to the buses and boarded the first one – a midweek afternoon, it wasn’t busy. Obviously a bus trip is the best idea after a 3 hour car drive, but we didn’t mind.

The bus took us out of the visitor center, through the security checkpoint and onto NASA land – first stop, the giant vehicle assembly building (VAB), up close and enormous.

A giant American flag emblazoned the front. Out back, its enormous doors slightly ajar, we could see workmen and the building’s incredible scale. Here too are the mobile launch platform and crawler transporter – previously used for the space shuttle missions, they were now being adapted for NASA’s new Space Launch System (SLS), the most powerful rocket ever built, with the first test missions currently scheduled for June 2020.

From the VAB the tour took us out to the launch pads – our tour operator expected to see the Falcon 9 scheduled for launch – she hadn’t received the update. The pad was sadly empty.

We passed other historical launch pads as we headed out to the most important one – Launch Complex 39 and launch pads 39A and 39B. This is where we left Earth for the moon. It’s where the space shuttle took off. Alligators and tortoises wander the water pools and roads.

Pad 39A has been adapted for SpaceX and their Falcon 9 and Falcon Heavy launches. While pad 39B is being adapted for the SLS missions. Large pylons give protection from lightning strikes, and gone are the iconic vertical supports used for the shuttle and Apollo programs – replaced with horizontal integration systems – rockets arrive lying down and are raised into position on site.

Apollo center

The tour ends at the Apollo center – a museum dedicated to the moon landings and the missions that led to them. From the bus we decamped into a large theatre – where we’re shown Kennedy’s inspiring speech, and the history of the Gemini missions, and the sacrifices made – in particular those during Apollo’s first launch rehearsal, when a fire broke out in the command module killing the crew.

We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard

The theater opens up and we continue, out into a mock-up control room for a simulated launch of Apollo 8. Conway slept in Samantha’s arms throughout the build up and countdown.

And then we leave the simulation, and find ourselves standing before the awesome thrusters of a giant Saturn V “moon” rocket. The entire rocket lies before us, stretching out as far as we can see. Woah.

We walked up and down beneath the rocket, truly taking in its scale, then explored the exhibits – touching a bit of moon returned to earth, seeing mockups of a lunar rover, a historic command module, iterations of space suits and space gloves, space tools and video cameras – all the most advanced technologies the 60s had to offer.

Conway ran around in delight, revelling in the wide open space and shiny floors beneath the rocket. One of us kept an eye on him while the other attempted to read all the descriptions.

We took the bus back to the main visitor complex and bought hot dogs and chips from a kiosk, and ate them while defending the food from unruly birds, one did swoop in and steal a mouthful from baby. We exited via the rocket garden, took photos against the NASA logo, and headed to hotel check-in.

We stayed overnight at Cape Canaveral, where the hotels are basic and overpriced – the Radisson Country Inn and Suites was average in every sense of the word. We were low on food, so I did a 10pm trip to Publix for fruit and bread and snacks while Sam got Conway to sleep. Tomorrow we’d drive north to Georgia.

Georgia Sea Turtle Center

When the skies had turned grey we headed to the Georgia Sea Turtle Center – an operational vet and sanctuary (and very much not a zoo) in the grounds of Jekyll Island Club Resort. Conway has been learning macaton through Sing and Sign, and one of his favourite signs is the one for turtle. Turtles are very exciting right now, so a trip to see some real ones was a perfect little excursion.

Inside, we heard a talk about terrapins, and Conway got to see a little one up close. Around the walls we read about the different kinds of turtles, the problems they face, how they breed, how they lay eggs, who predates the eggs, and what they eat. High above were life sized models of each turtle species – a comparison showing just how big the Leatherback and Green turtles are. One tank holds a solitary turtle that mesmerises passers by, and a large window looks into the veterinary operating theatre.

The vets were at work – operating on a snake of all things. We held Conway up so he could see, “ssss” he said, shaking his hand, his word and sign for snake. They were taking blood from its tail end, while two people held it. It’s skin was beginning to flake off too, clearly ready to shed, the vets gave it a helping hand.

Out the doors at the back and around, we headed to the sanctuary – where pools held a variety of injured and recuperating sea turtles, mostly green turtles and loggerheads right now. Conway saw them, and did the turtle sign excitedly. A woman talked us through the ailments and story of each turtle; many are brought here from further north after getting caught out in cold water and suffering from shock, while others are injured by boats or other human causes.

Eighty ocean kitchen and bar

For dinner we headed across the island to Eighty ocean. It’s a relaxed restaurant with a Table shuffleboard along one wall – a sand covered board with weights, a game like bowls where you send your weights from one end to the other with a delicate push. I held Conway at the right height, gathered up all the weights, showed him how to do it, then watched him practice, one at a time, then two at a time, my arm growing heavy as I hold him.

We sat near the back and watched the kitchen prepare plates. Conway shared a bit of each of our meals, mostly devouring my vermicelli noodles like they were spaghetti. We were a little too full after a delicious warm cheesecake dessert, with plenty of sugar and ice cream.

Eighty ocean backs onto a sandy beach that looks East, out onto the Atlantic. We took off our shoes and wandered out onto the sandy shores. Once again the island treated us to a spectacular sunset; the skies turned to fire – the clouds were like a wave of burning flames, before they turned a deep purple, like the world had oversaturated itself. By the sea we played in the soft waves, Conway giggled and shrieked when each wave touched his toes. The gentle sounds of the sea, birds, and laughter, a magical moment, and what holidays are made for.

Our last full day on Jekyll Island, tomorrow we’d be returning to Florida. So today we tried out somewhere new for breakfast – returning to Eighty Ocean for an a la carte option; scrambled eggs in spicy tacos, fried potatoes, omelette, pastries and a fruit bowl. We were stuffed.

The Wanderer

Today we used the car to explore parts of the island we hadn’t seen yet – heading South to the tail end of the island first – and to St Andrew’s, a picnic area, and site of an atrocity. In 1858 a ship called The Wanderer landed here. It was an illegal slave ship, and it carried 487 Africans in horrific conditions for 42 days before arriving at Jekyll Island. Efforts have been made to find the survivors, and a walk along a sandy trail tells their story.

We followed the path and learnt their story; there were old instruments fashioned from available materials – which Conway played with, details of their cuisine – okra (or gumbo), a music box played “Watch that Star” – a song about following the North Star to escape the south – Conway danced to the tune.

Horton Pond

We drove North again, and found Horton pond. It’s more of a small lake than a pond, and the perfect place to stop and look for wildlife, to listen to the sway of the trees and the songs of the birds, and to search for alligators. We’d keep Conway in the stroller.

As we arrived at the wooden platform overlooking the pond, we spied a ridged back in the water, heading our way. An alligator was coming right towards us. In the water too were terrapins and peculiar looking softshell turtles with long snouts. Through the water’s surface we could also see fish, some a few feet long. Egrets flew in the trees at the water’s edge.

From the pond we headed out on a short trail, perhaps 2km, the Tupelo trail is a loop through the forest where placards told us about the flora; deerberries and sparkleberries (a wild blueberry), live oaks, water oaks, sand live oaks and black tupelo – hence the trail’s name. We pushed Conway along the leaf-strewn paths, wary of flying insects, and keeping to the shade. He slept and we enjoyed the peacefulness of nature.

Before leaving we stopped again at the pond’s platform, we found the alligator had returned, and a baby, perhaps a foot long, was swimming about too. It’s unlikely we could get much closer to a wild alligator, at least not safely. And as we left, another wildlife sighting, and one that left me glad that baby remained in the stroller; from the path I spotted a black raised head, motionless, like a dark tree branch, it was an adult banded water snake. We stopped and watched until it slithered back into the undergrowth.

Afternoon by the pool

All that walking at noon left us hot and sweaty; a function was happening at our hotel’s pool, so we went instead to the Jekyll Ocean club again, to use their swimming pool. Conway sat at the water’s edge with his cups, pouring water from one to the other, and back again, an activity that occupied him for a good hour.

Driftwood dinner

For our last evening meal in Georgia we went to Driftwood bistro, a local place you can’t book in advance – first come first served, it offers “Low country cuisines and local shrimp dishes”. The walls are adorned with angular fish sculptures carved from old driftwood.

We got there early and sat down in the middle – just in time for Conway to nod off again – we’d be having a quiet dinner to ourselves. This was the perfect place to try a very good blackened shrimp and grits, and it was scrumptious.

“Wild Georgia shrimp and grits: White wine sauce with sautéed mushrooms, leeks, country ham and roasted peppers, over traditional garlic-cheddar cheese grits and topped with blackened wild Georgia shrimp, served with a signature side”

And the side was something special too: Sweet potato soufflé. Yes, soufflé. Back in Longboat key we’d been told about sweet potato casserole – a very sweet dish of sweet potato, almost like a dessert, but eaten as a side dish. This was similar – sugary sweet potato mash, a crumble-like topping and a dash of cinnamon, it was amazing.

Post-dinner we all headed to driftwood beach for some sunset photography. Of course the day we wanted to take pictures the sunset was rather average. We still made the most of it, posing for family portraits on a fallen oak, and getting shots of a tree growing from the waves, before dashing back to the car because of a freak rain shower. I returned shortly after to try a few more shots, which was a mistake if only because the rain had brought out the flies, and the no-see-ums as they’re called, covered my legs and left me with a good 20 bites. Yes, they bite, I’d assumed they didn’t. Still, it’s nice to help out the local ecology. Ha.

Our last day in Georgia, today we’d be driving south again, back to Orlando for our last couple of days. Just one more breakfast in the grand dining room – some more scrambled eggs and cheese, bacon, sausages, cheese grits, and so on. Outside a storm was passing through, rain hammered the windows, little waterfalls formed from the gutters. No golf today, the couple next to us looked dejected.

We packed up the last few bits, perused the shops and bought trinkets and toys from the Sea Turtle Center and subs from The Pantry as a lunchtime snack. We left around midday, and I stressed about hitting Orlando around rush hour – completely forgetting that it was Sunday.

Goodbye Jekyll island, goodbye Georgia, we pulled away and began our 3 hour drive south. Just after Jacksonville we hit rain – “this is pretty heavy” I thought, turning the wipers to top speed, spray killing the visibility. Florida gets heavier storms than us, I thought. Then the rain kicked up a notch, it hammered on the roof of the car, there was half a second between the wipers where I could see anything, surface water pooled on the road. This was getting difficult. Swish, swish, hammer, hammer – each bridge we passed under reminded us how noisy the rain was. Then the rain found another level – and now everyone slowed to a crawl, 20mph, hazards on. It lasted an hour, numerous cars had spun off onto the grassy verges, one car was upside down. Conway slept through it all.

We arrived at our hotel, Point Hotel and Suites, near Universal Blvd. On the TV the local news showed the extent of the spring storm – “Record rainfall in Daytona”, the newsreader said, “tornado touchdown”, I heard. Tomorrow’s forecast said sunshine.