West Wight

The walk that runs like a seam through my life is the steep haul up Tennyson Down from Freshwater Bay. I have been climbing it since childhood. The trail to the Isle of Wight’s westernmost tip along an exposed finger of land thrusting into the English Channel catches the breath, and not just from the effort of the ascent. It is indecently beautiful: a rolling swell of downland, chalk cliffs shearing to the water and luminous seascapes. No wonder poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson found daily succour here. This was the first place on the island I brought the man who would become my husband. When we were told he had terminal cancer, we returned with our one-year-old son, walking unsteadily into the wind. Newly widowed, I sought solace in the raw, elemental landscape that has always given me peace.

The Needles Lighthouse

Now part of the opening 12-mile stretch of the King Charles III England Coast Path, from Chilton Chine to Colwell Bay, the downs reveal themselves to walkers who begin at Freshwater Bay and head west until the dramatic stacks known as The Needles break into view. They lie off the headland, where the first permanent wireless station was set up, in view of Alum Bay’s striated cliffs, brushed with bands of coloured sand.

Back at Freshwater Bay, where a Mr Whippy was once our reward for a hearty hike, the Victorian Albion Hotel has, since its 2024 refurb, served up excellent food. My now adult son and I rhapsodised over its succulent mussels in white wine and garlic cream and its seafood linguine as we were lulled by the percussion of the waves. The sea change here is part of an islandwide transformation that has gathered pace in recent years as a younger, more ambitious food scene has taken root. It’s worlds away from my youthful stint in a kitchen when I was told to mix two powdered soups “for a homemade feel”. Bedrooms at the hotel lean into the setting, with sea views and greeny-blue interiors; the best share a deck fronting the Channel. The Albion is an ideal spot for visiting Freshwater’s thatched St Agnes Church; Dimbola, home to pioneering photographer Julia Margaret Cameron; and Farringford, the neogothic pile where Tennyson lived until his death in 1892.

While pretty Freshwater Bay is pebbly, Compton Beach, just along the coast, is my favourite sweep of sand on the island. It has fossil-rich cliffs and crashing waves, ideal for bodysurfing. Over the headland from Freshwater is genteel Totland, where the Albion team also run Sentry Mead, an elegant black-and-white Victorian villa that reopened as a renovated nine-bedroom B&B in 2022. The quiet rooms have pillow menus and posh bedtime chocolates, oversized fabric headboards and bucket chairs. One of them, Alum, has a bed tucked into a tower. The breakfasts are generous and an honesty bar fuels evenings in the garden. At dusk, it is just a 10-minute coastal stroll to The Hut at Colwell Bay, which has evolved from a rustic beach bar into a magnet for Solent sailors and celebrities. The formula is simple: fresh seafood served by welcoming staff in a lively, sea-sprayed setting. If there’s only time to eat in one place on the island, this should be it.

Compton Bay

The Hut runs complimentary minibus or truck shuttles to and from Yarmouth, one of the UK’s smallest towns, with a population of circa 700 and a charter dating back to 1135. Yachts crowd Yarmouth Harbour where the car ferry docks – the 40-minute sail from Lymington feels like slipping back into a gentler era. As well as a blockhouse castle built under Henry VIII after French raids, and a wooden pier (£1 to stroll its length), there are independent shops, including Crackers About Alpacas, which stocks alpaca-wool knitwear, run by the owners of the nearby West Wight Alpacas and Llamas farm.

Totland Bay

I love restaurant Off the Rails, tucked into the old train station on the line that linked Yarmouth and Newport. (The decommissioned track has served as a gentle path when I’ve been accompanied by a buggy, a cycling child and then elderly parents.) The interiors nod to its heritage: booth seating, railway signage, a “no snoring” notice on the sleeper carriage and menus in newspaper format that include treats for dogs. The haddock chowder served with charcoal-marbled butter is my pick. Breakfast stretches luxuriously until 2pm, and after that there are cakes and cocktails to enjoy while looking out across the River Yar.

The Arreton Valley and the North East

Slicing through the centre of the island, the Arreton Valley is a broad expanse of pasture and arable fields that feels far removed from the seascapes and cliffs of the coast. Framed by chalk downs, and stitched together with hedgerows, it is classic rural Isle of Wight: tractors trundling between fields; church spires pricking the skyline; red squirrels flickering through pockets of ancient woodland.

The valley’s rich soils support dairy farms and market gardens. Its most famous crop is the Isle of Wight tomato, chosen by chefs for its sweetness and depth of flavour. We would buy them by the bag as children and eat them like sweets. Garlic is another Arreton calling card. At The Garlic Farm, which is now organic, bulbs are just the start: everything is laced with garlic, from dressings to jam, with tastings in the shop and a restaurant supplied by a new on-site market garden. When my son was younger we loved the Garlic Festival, where he would choose the garlic ice cream and I would order the garlic beer (nicer than it sounds). Now visitors can bed down among the bulbs, in cottages in converted farm buildings, or in the five yurts with proper bathrooms and communal kitchens. Two have hot tubs, and the new barrel sauna is for everyone.

Crops from the Garlic Farm

To the north, four generations of the Griffin family have milked descendants of the Guernsey cows that were introduced to Briddlesford Farm in 1923. I have known the Griffins since I was five – I played on their farm, milked their cows, made cheese in their dairy – and have often visited their Briddlesford Café. TV chef James Martin is a fan of their halloumi-style cheese and deep yellow butter. The latter graced tables at Wimbledon last year and is on the menu at Robert Thompson’s restaurant RT Café Grill. I met him 17 years ago, after he had earned the first Michelin star on the Isle of Wight at The Hambrough in Ventnor. Since then, he has moved between kitchens in Yarmouth, Newport and Cowes along the coast, where a smattering of decent restaurants cater to the yachties (who will celebrate the 200th anniversary of Cowes Week regatta in August). He seems to have found his spot on the seafront in Ryde. Upstairs, informal RT Café Grill hums with energy, with its wide Solent views and juicy steaks. Its cellar hosts pop-ups of fine-dining tasting menus showcasing local produce. From this summer a cabana bar in the garden promises ice creams and barbecues.

Racing yachts in Cowes

Gin is the order of the day at the Isle of Wight Distillery, which produces its range of Mermaid gin in The Mermaid Bar outside Ryde. The philosophy is field to glass, with botanicals sourced from hedgerows, fields and shoreline: strawberries from the Arreton Valley to tint the pink gin; bergamot and lemon from Osborne House, which appear in Mermaid Zest; and local elderflower, hops from Ventnor Botanic Garden and rock samphire. The gins are sold in Venetian coloured-glass bottles.

A few miles away, Adgestone Vineyard planted its vines in 1968, when English wine was in its infancy. Its white was served at my sister’s wedding in the 1990s, downed in larger quantities than expected after the marquee at Carisbrooke Castle (where Charles I was imprisoned) surrendered to a gale and the celebration had to be relocated. Adgestone’s range includes reds and increasingly assured sparkling wines, with tastings overlooking vines that meander to the sea.

Close to Adgestone, at the island’s easternmost extremity, the village of Bembridge is one of the smartest. It was our favourite place for crabbing when my son was small, when the tide receded over the rocks of Bembridge Ledge, followed by crab baguettes at the Lifeboat View Café. That’s now closed but there are plenty of crustaceans on offer at The Best Dressed Crab, a floating seafood restaurant, or at The Crab and Lobster Inn, the sort of pub suited to being by the sea. Upstairs, five spruced-up rooms have oversized headboards, pale wood panelling and a coastal palette; downstairs, there’s exposed stone, beams and an open fire. In fine weather it’s hard to beat a local ale on the terrace.

Ventnor

There’s more than a whisper of the Med about this hillside seaside resort on the island’s south coast. A tumble of Victorian villas arranged around a sweep of shingle, Ventnor is bathed in a soft, Riviera-quality light. In its botanic garden, palms fan the skyline and echiums flare electric blue as if the Canaries had annexed a corner of England.

Ventnor Botanic Garden

Sheltered by St Boniface Down, Ventnor’s Undercliff has one of Britain’s mildest microclimates, often several degrees warmer than the mainland. Little wonder the town became a fashionable 19th-century health resort, its sea air prescribed as medicine, with Queen Victoria calling in for tea at The Royal Hotel (still around, now old-fashioned) while staying at Osborne House.

For my sister and me, growing up on the Isle of Wight in the 1970s and 1980s, Ventnor meant something less elevated. It was the clatter of coins in the now-defunct Gaiety arcade, and shrieking in the seafront paddling pool shaped like the island. I remember shuttered hotels, peeling paint and a demolished pier. Now the town – still with that iconic paddling pool – has fresh momentum. Independent shops line its steep streets, where music and theatre are played out in summer at the Ventnor Fringe. The Athanor displays corsets alongside skulls, and Pascale Edwards-Labelle plys her organic face and body products and CBD bath bombs at Blue Labelle.

The Terrace Rooms & Wine

Tom and Ashley Fahey set out to transform the wine bar scene when they opened The Terrace Rooms & Wine in 2022. Their Italianate villa on a steep zigzag of road alongside Cascade Gardens has a wine room with more than 1,200 labels. I spent a pleasant afternoon sipping from one of them in the sea view pergola before joining Tom for a tasting and tutorial. Upstairs, my wood-panelled room – one of six – had a wine fridge and a window seat with views.

The foodie Faheys love The Basque Kitchen, which relocated to Ventnor last year, and Crave ice cream, whose flavours include Turkish delight and rice pudding with jam. Then there’s Smoking Lobster on the esplanade, which also has a branch in Cowes. Its pan-Asian menu offers multiple punchy plates but my picks are its crustaceans, slick with miso butter, the tuna tacos with wasabi and watermelon, and the vividly green but improbably light pandan doughnuts. For someone who remembers when a prawn cocktail was considered sophisticated, it’s proof that Ventnor has moved on, deliciously.

The Spyglass Inn

Just off the esplanade where The Spyglass Inn and the pocket-sized Longshoreman’s Museum bristle with maritime artefacts, beachgoers gather by the shore. I like to slip away along the cliff (riddled with smugglers’ caves) to Steephill Cove, only accessible on foot. It feels nicely out of step with the present, stuck in its charming time warp. Striped beach huts and deckchairs join lobster pots, fishing tackle and rock pools. The latest catch is chalked up on blackboards and served simply, with bread and butter or folded into warm pasties, at The Crab Shed.

Fisherman’s cottages with sea views are available to rent, but they fill up fast. Instead, my pick is The Lighthouse, a white clapboard “house” spread over two floors with a light-filled kitchen-diner. Its folding doors open onto a deck that’s ideal for a gin and tonic once the day trippers have packed up, leaving one alone on a beach that feels lifted from another era – a time that was softer, and more forgiving.