We are so thrilled that Author and Journalist, Jessica Hatcher-Moore has shared her travel tales on the Toastie journal ahead of half term, with tips on family adventures and how to infect little ones with a love for the elements.
All imagery throughout kindly shared by Philip Hatcher-Moore
Why do I do it? I was on a beach in mid-Wales, the rain coming in sideways, and I was struggling to stay upright with the force of the gale. “Get your storm boards up tonight", a passing local observed. This was August. The summer ‘finale’, before I turned my mind to getting the children clipped and shod for the new school year. A week on the beach, dreamt up to reinforce their love of the sea. To kindle a passion for fishing and surfing and swimming and sailing. A holiday with my parents, my sister and my baby nephew in a quirky seaside village that we all loved.
Three generations under one roof. A disaster in the making.
And that was before Hurricane Ernesto blew in.
School holidays and half terms come around so quickly they always catch me off guard. Every time I find myself caught between wanting to do something easy (my left brain talking) and something adventurous (right brain). Easy and catered vs wild and free. At some point I start saving up for an off-the-peg package with a bright and shiny kids’ club so I can read a book. And then something changes, and I end up booking another quirky, custom trip. Invariably, I later ask: what have I done?
Of course it's possible to compromise. We began the summer with a week visiting friends in the Gironde in south-west France. It was heaven. We lunched on bulots and oysters in the Arcachon Bay. We lived in swimwear and sunhats. Fast-forward a month and we're wearing sou-westers eating fish and chips.
But a few days into our wintry Welsh seaside break, I realise that the children don’t care about the weather (not to mention the lack of chic beachside cabanes). They don't notice because they’re too busy having fun.
Rather than allow the weather to lock us indoors, we throw ourselves into it. We put on dungarees and set out headlong into the storm. Later, we put on wetsuits and dive beneath the waves. We stay in the water until our teeth are chattering, then all pile into a hot bath before drinking steaming mugs of tea.
By the end of every holiday, I’m reminded of why I did it – why I took the less easy route. Being a parent takes enough out of you. And for the first few years I did lose a little part of myself. I'm an explorer. I have a transient nature. And I need these adventures – however exhausting – to sate that part of my soul.
If I gave my children the choice of holiday, I know they'd choose Butlins or Disneyland. They'd go for the spiffy kids' club every time. Not Snowdonia National Park or a windy village on the coast in West Wales. In their world, it’s the bigger and brighter the better.
Our children are over-exposed to excitement and stimulation. They have more brightly coloured toys than they'll ever play with; more music, films and games than they'll ever know. But thankfully I’m in charge – so my world it is.
The thing is though, even though they might not choose it, the natural world can knock their socks off more than any play park or kids' club ever could. You can overwhelm them with the mountains or the sea, jumping into waves or fighting the force of the gale. Inundate them with experiences of forests and hills, mud and streams. Get them to feel and taste the world. What seems daunting can be surprisingly easy.
In France, there were no children's menus, so they also guzzled oysters and dug into whelk shells with little toothpicks, slathering their prize in garlicky mayonnaise, thrilled with their culinary capers. A month later, on a windy beach, the beauty and power of the waves took their breath away. A high tide, spurred on by the storm, brought in enough flotsam and jetsam to keep them occupied for hours. The rock pools, teeming with life, elicited squeals of surprise. No one thought about an iPad at all.
These were adventures – small scale, tame perhaps for some, but enough for us. And they got me thinking about the secret to success when travelling with small children. There is no magic formula: it goes wrong for all of us at times. And it's different for everyone. But there are a few things I try to stick to.
- I don’t pack with the children around. Trying to entertain excited children while getting everything ready is almost always a disaster. Having learned this the hard way, my husband or I now take an extra half day off work – or we beg, borrow or steal childcare before we leave. This allows us to pack in peace and it feels like the greatest luxury.
- My husband and I sometimes try to leave separately so that one of us goes ahead with the kids and travels without being in a rush, while the other has more time to shut up the house and remember all the things we’ve forgotten.
- We prepare for all weather, especially if we’re in the UK. We left for Bordeaux with just carry-on bags – the basics plus the kids' Töastie pac-a-macs, sunhats and UV swim gear. It was blissfully simple. For the coast in Wales, our outdoor gear alone took up half the boot. But it saved us. Without the coats, dungarees, wetsuits and towelling robes, it would not have half the fun. And the pack-a-way puffers are perfect for the hills – warm and wind/showerproof but easy to carry if the sun shines.
- Keep yourself in mind. Take your children places you want them to love. Give them experiences you want them to have. And try to push their boundaries whenever you can – because when they're young, almost every aspect of life is an adventure for them. Your children might love oysters and whelks. If you give them the chance, they might also love swimming in driving rain.
And now, as the light closes in, I ask myself, what of next year? Give me four months and I’ll be googling package holidays again…
