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I bought a ticket for the Madrid City Bus Tour from hotel reception and hopped on at Plaza Mayor. With such intense heat, I thought it would be a good idea to explore the city in the comfort of an open-top bus, where I could jump on and off wherever I pleased. First stop was Puerta del Sol with the bear and strawberry tree statue, and then we headed east into the Retiro district, which was probably best known for its trio of world-famous museums. As I’d anticipated, the queues to get inside were eye-watering even at late morning, so once again I was content just admiring the exterior. As much as I quite liked wandering through art galleries, I wasn’t willing to spend an hour waiting to get in. Besides, on a weekend day you wouldn’t have seen the art for the tourists anyway.

I was far more interested in what lay beside the museums and I hopped off the bus. El Parque de Buen Retiro was a vast and beautiful park spanning 350 acres. I began at the north end and made my way leisurely past elaborate fountains and sprawling trees. One of the trees was the oldest in Madrid, but there was no shortage of vast leaved giants, which provided much-needed shade for tourists and locals alike. While some people were lolling on the grass with food or books, others were jogging and walking dogs. It was a hive of activity and yet seemed extremely tranquil, similar to how I felt in Plaza Mayor. Despite a population of several million, the city didn’t feel cramped or overcrowded the way London does. The pace of life in Madrid was far more relaxed and I was keen to savour it. The only signs of congestion were from the parakeets perched in every treetop, whose disgruntled calls sounded like trainers on a squeaky floor.

In almost the very centre of the park was El Palacio Cristal – a beautiful glass building overlooking a lake where ducks and a lone black swan were swimming in lazy circles. Surrounding the water were dramatic sprays of white blooms, rosebushes as tall as trees and a miniature waterfall cascading over a rocky outcrop into the lake below. I sat down on the stone steps of the palace to see the ducks a little closer and was surprised to find the water full of tiny terrapins. While their shells remained submerged, their black and yellow-striped heads poked out of the water, eyes blinking up at the child beside me who was throwing popcorn. On the steps, feral pigeons and sparrows tussled for the prizes, while in the water the terrapins were joined by ducks and the occasional gaping lips of a fish. The black swan came gliding over for a look too.

One terrapin made the monumental effort of grasping the side with its broad claws and heaving itself up. For a few surreal moments we gazed at each other before it realised I wasn’t the one with food and plopped back underwater. Meanwhile, a pigeon strolled nonchalantly across my foot in pursuit of an unclaimed kernel, while others exploded into flight around my head, their wing beats sending a welcome burst of fresh air.

Beside me on the step I could hear the child with the popcorn munching. “One for you, one for me” was obviously in play. When the bag was empty, birds and reptiles slowly dissipated until the next snack arrived.

I wanted to sit and watch the terrapins a bit longer, but the steps were in direct sunlight and I was beginning to fry. I left the diverse gaggle of creatures behind and headed out of the park, but not before passing through La Rosaleda (rose garden) for a few photos. A dozen other young female tourists were posing for shots, no doubt gathering new ammunition for Instagram.

All along the downward slope leading back to the museums were small wooden huts overflowing with books, which I made a beeline for. It was La Cuesta de Claudio Moyano bookstalls. Nearly all were in Spanish but there were a couple of titles I recognised. I couldn’t help buying “Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal”, which would probably be challenging enough for my rusty Spanish.

For lunch I had a bocadillo de calamari (squid ring sandwich) from El Brillante – another Lonely Planet recommendation that fell short of the mark for me. The calamari itself was good, with just a thin layer of batter, but when sandwiched in a dry baguette it had me gasping for a drink. It seemed that the Spanish didn’t use sauces much in their cooking. The bacon bits and bare bread at Casa Revuelta had been the same. Perhaps the locals just washed it all down with a few cervezas, but I was left wanting after El Brillante.

Later in the evening, after a full circuit on the bus and hopping off on Gran Vía, the hub of central Madrid, I walked back towards Plaza Mayor and a sign for “Tapa Tapa” caught my eye. I ignored the guidebooks and had dinner in a place I knew nothing about, which was an excellent decision. I chose four cheese croquettes, mini portions of Iberian ham and mozzarella toasted sandwiches and langoustine skewers, which were all absolutely delicious. To drink I had a mocktail called San Francisco, which was bursting with the flavours of orange, peach, pineapple and blackcurrant juices. It was an extremely satisfying end to a long day exploring the park. Tomorrow I had a real Madrid tradition to look forward to: the infamous El Rastro flea market.

The drive to the Village Tearoom and Emporium was stunning. As the sun was beating down on my right arm I was a little nervous I hadn’t brought the sun cream, but luckily the light was just right to make Northumberland’s hills shine gold, without turning my skin pink.

After meeting Heather, we drove to a top-secret spot where adders were frequently sighted. Due to the adder’s rarity in the UK, it is important not to broadcast locations of their possible breeding sites, to avoid a rush of human activity and potentially disturbing the snakes. As the afternoon was still very hot, we found eight adders basking, both males and larger females. In fact, in one spot there were four males writhing together, perhaps in an attempt to attract a watching female. It was my second adder sighting, but getting the chance to see them so clearly was a real treat. While maintaining our distance, we watched them bask for nearly an hour. Though I could have stayed far longer, it was time to head to Chesters bothy before it grew dark.

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Leaving the adders behind, we drove to the end of the road, where urbanisation ended and true wilderness began. Shouldering our bags for the weekend, we began the two-mile walk through the beautiful Breamish Valley, accompanied only by the bleating of sheep and the infamous scraping call of pheasants.

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As the day drew to a close, the hills faded from shimmering orange to dusky pink with a patchwork of dark green conifers and purple heather. Then suddenly a flash of brown as a hare darted up the hill, white tail flashing. He was too far for my camera to get a clean shot, but it was a great sighting on my first day in the Cheviot Hills. Fascinatingly, hares can be pregnant with two young that are not twins simultaneously. The unborn leverets may have been conceived at different times, meaning they have different growth rates.

Before long we reached a patch of conifer forest that looked like something from a fairytale. As we threaded up the pinecone-dotted track I couldn’t help but think how well a pack of wolves could fit in here, miles from interfering humans.

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Just as we emerged on the other side of the forest and paused for a breather to gaze upon some truly stunning views of the River Breamish, Heather explained how there were tales of red squirrels in the Cheviot Hills, but due to habitat fragmentation resulting in isolated patches of woodland, she didn’t think the area could support a breeding population. As if we’d been overheard, a high-pitched chattering sounded from above and two red squirrels appeared, hopping from bough to bough and scrabbling up the trunks. Not only were these the first red squirrels I’d seen in the wild, they were the first individuals that Heather had seen at Chesters, so it was a special moment indeed.

After such good luck, we almost had a skip in our step as we made the rest of the way up the hill to Chesters bothy. Almost immediately we were met by a flock of fieldfare as they swooped overhead, another new species for me.

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After dumping our bags, we sat outside on the dry stone wall and listened to the evening’s birds before the generator drowned them out. Amongst the shrieking pheasants, there was the distant hoot of a tawny owl, and later when the sun finally sunk behind the hills, the bizarre wing beats of snipe reverberated across the landscape. If you’ve never heard a snipe drumming, any description I could give would never give it justice. It’s a sound I’ll never grow tired of hearing. It reminded me that I was in the middle of nowhere. I was cut off from technology and we needed a fire to get hot water – it’s the sort of living many people have never truly experienced. Sitting outside in complete silence could seem eerie, but to me there’s a haunting beauty to the only traffic being speeding fieldfare and the occasional skylark hovering overhead. It’s like stepping back in time to when technology was an unheard of impossibility.

Later, when Cain arrived, the three of us headed over the hills in search of long-eared owls, a bird Cain was eager to tick off during our stay at Chesters. The night was as beautiful as the day had been – the sky was clear and a huge ethereal glow encircled the moon. Sadly, the owls didn’t appear, but the night walk was the perfect end to my first day in the Cheviots. When we returned to the bothy I spent some time writing about the day to jog my memory when I returned home. I knew that without a doubt, my notebook would be essential this weekend.

Species seen/heard:

Adder Vipera berus Coal tit Periparus ater European hare Lepus europaeus Fieldfare Turdus pilaris Great tit Parus major Oystercatcher Haematopus ostralegus Pheasant Phasianus colchicus Red squirrel Sciurus vulgaris Robin Erithacus rubecula Snipe Gallinago gallinago Song thrush Turdus philomelos Tawny owl Strix aluco

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Reptiles in the Park

Chesters – Day One