Travel is as travel does. It can be long or short, lavish or modest, under your nose or in outer space. Alain de Botton once went on holiday to an airport, for heaven’s sake.
One thing that travel is, reliably, is fun. By offering combos of novelty, learning, people and adventure, travel bolsters wellbeing and dials down stress. Over the past year or so, I went on a journey into the serious business of having a laugh — here are some of the things that hit the fun sweet spot.
First-time wakeboarding, Hove Lagoon, East Sussex
Wetsuit on, resulting abdominal cramp over, I lower myself into the water. I get hold of the handle, the instructor counts down, and then we’re … face-planting.
After a few more false starts, I’m up and running. In the space of a few minutes my performance has improved by about 800 per cent. It’s an argument for trying new things: the gains you can make from a position of utter crapness are seismic, and the brain rewards you with a swift surge of endorphins.
That said, on my final run I get my knickers in a twist and almost hit one of the fibreglass ramps. The instructor hauls me out of the water like a massive sack of scampi. “How do you feel?” he says. “Dead,” I say. “Sorry to hear that,” he says. “Don’t be,” I say. “Because it feels great.” (£65 for one hour; lagoon.co.uk).
Sussex is a great spot to try wakeboarding
GETTY IMAGES
Rollercoasters, Alton Towers, Staffordshire
First up, the Smiler. There’s a special queue for single riders, which is a nice consolation for having no mates. That said, I might have benefited from having longer to steel myself for the impending G-force. I get off the ride feeling enlivened, despite having had the life scared out of me.
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Fancying something calmer, I join the queue for the Congo River Rapids. When I get to the front, I’m ordered to share a dinghy with three men from Sheffield in their fifties. We proceed in silence for about five minutes, feigning interest in the scenery, trying to ignore the fact that we’re all in a theme-park boat on a work day.
I ask them what they do for fun when they’re back home. Their answers — pigeon racing, Doncaster Rovers, researching the history of sub-Saharan Africa — confirm what I’ve suspected all along: that fun is a funny thing alright (from £29; altontowers.com).
The Smiler is one of the most popular rides at Alton Towers
ALAMY
Sitting on a bench, anywhere
One way to travel is to go nowhere at all — which is why I’ve taken to regularly spending an hour sitting on a bench. I leave everything at home, pick a perch, then tune in to the mellow drama about me.
One of my favourite things to do on a bench is to travel back in time. MRI studies suggest that recalling something can be as pleasurable as the original experience.
If I were banished to a desert island with a single luxury, I would probably pick a bench. Sitting on a bench has so much going for it. It is reminiscence. It is novelty. It is familiar. It is strange. It is all of the world, and also so little. And if nothing else, it is flipping cheap.
Ben loves spending time sitting on a bench with his thoughts — and a coffee
BEN AITKEN
Getting active, Isle of Wight
I cycle through scorched countryside to my digs for the night — a hammock in the woods, not far from Yarmouth (hammocks from £15; campwight.co.uk). The next day, at Freshwater Bay, I’m off coasteering, which essentially involves navigating a stretch of coastline come hell or highwater.
After clambering over rocks and swimming around headlands, we reach the final challenge: to climb the cliff in front of us, then jump off. I’m not much of a climber. I’ve got about as much upper-body strength as an ironing board. But buoyed by adrenaline and group encouragement, I get the job done — just (from £30; fbciow.com).
Back in the saddle, I head to Newtown National Nature Reserve, where a bloke called Dave shows me around. Although I find his passion for birds is infectious, I can’t say the same for his knowledge. Though it’s not for want of trying.
“What’s that one, Dave?” I say, gesturing to an excitable pied specimen wagging its tail. “That’s a dog, Ben. Shall we call it a day?” (free entry, nationaltrust.org.uk, tours from £14, natural.links@outlook.com)
Ben at Camp Wildlife in Kent
Camp Wildfire, Kent
A summer camp is an American institution designed to put distance between parents and children during school holidays. Camp Wildfire is a British version, with two major differences: it’s adults-only and lasts a weekend.
I start in a tepee watching the comedian Rosie Jones. She explains her rise to fame thus: “I’m disabled. I’m gay. And I’m a prick. The BBC love me.”
That weekend, I also do some self-conscious dancing, spend a couple of mindful hours making something out of clay and sign up to a cheerleading class.
Lois, the instructor, tells me that I need to give it more sass, which is not something I thought I’d ever be asked to provide any amount of, let alone more.
Before the Japanese sword-fighting I head back to my tent for a quick nap. But when I get there, instead of getting in it for a snooze, I start to take it down. If there’s anything I know about fun, it’s that you’ve got to know when to stop (from £295; campwildfire.co.uk).
This is an adapted extract from Here Comes the Fun: A Journey into the Serious Business of Having a Laugh by Ben Aitken (Icon £10.99). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members
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