Inside the Britannic Explorer: New luxury sleeper train coming to England and Wales in July
Known for its popular luxury sleeper train in the Scottish Highlands, the Royal Scotsman, hospitality operator Belmond has now unveiled a new sleeper that will journey through England and Wales: the Britannic Explorer.
The new luxury train, complete with fine dining cars, 18 sleeper cabin suites and spa treatments onboard, is set to make its first journey on 21 July, bringing luxury sleeper experiences to England and Wales.
Within its cabins are three grand suites and 15 standard suites, where guests can spend three nights travelling from the capital to three different locations, Cornwall, the Lake District and Wales, on journeys aimed at paying homage to the British tradition of touring and celebrating the art of slow travel.
Passengers on the Britannic Explorer can take optional off-train guided excursions to immerse themselves in each destination's natural landscapes, cultural offerings and history.
This includes coastal sailing and yoga sessions by the sea in Cornwall, wild swimming in the Lake District, and lavender farm visits and wood-fired saunas in Wales.
On board guests will indulge in British gastronomy designed by multi-Michelin-starred chef Simon Rogan as the hills roll by.
Rogan's fine dining menu will feature locally sourced ingredients, in line with his British farm-to-fork movement, with seasonal menus rotating across the three routes.
Speaking about the collaboration with the luxury sleeper, Rogan said last year: 'I am very excited to bring this approach to the launch of the Britannic Explorer, where each plate will reflect Britain's diverse landscapes.
'I hope every passenger not only enjoys the flavours but also feels a connection between the dishes and the journey, making their time on board truly memorable.'
Passengers will also have access to the train's botanically-inspired bar in their observation car for a cocktail or a craft beer, or perhaps relax while receiving a treatment or two in the train's onboard spa room.
The luxury train's all-British experience extends into the interiors of the train, with designs and colour palettes taking inspiration from the countryside and coastlines created through bespoke commissions from leading designers and artists.
Gary Franklin, vice president of trains and cruises at Belmond, said: "I am incredibly proud to launch this revolutionary new train, which further enhances Belmond's global portfolio of market-leading luxury rail experiences.
'The Britannic Explorer offers something truly unique; an opportunity to discover the rugged Cornish coastline to Snowdonia's untamed National Park and the vast expanses of the Lake District like never before.
'We are especially delighted to welcome the esteemed Chef Simon Rogan to helm the culinary direction. His vision brings a gastronomic journey that complements the train's spirit of adventure, celebrating British produce and highlighting the finest local specialities along the route.'
A trip aboard the Britannic Explorer in a double cabin starts from £11,000, including a three-night itinerary, excursions, meals, wine and other alcoholic beverages on board.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Times
2 hours ago
- Times
My tour of England's glorious cathedrals produced a clear winner
I am not religious. I have only a passing interest in architecture. But I've always been fascinated by cathedrals: the elaborate vaults and arcades, the clash and contrast of clerestories, the stained-glass windows and ornate organs. Cathedrals possess an aura that compels us to touch their walls. They make us feel small. Cathedrals are seldom humble, often humbling. But I'd seen very few English cathedrals and little of England, my experience largely limited to European celebrities: Sagrada Familia, Notre Dame, Santa Maria del Fiore. Always up for a challenge, always a glutton for self-imposed deadlines, I decided in June last year to visit all 42 of England's Anglican cathedrals in the space of a year. I do not own a car, and trains require mortgages, so I often relied on family and friends for favours. My partner drove us three hours from our London flat to a log cabin in Ledbury, accompanied by our year-old whippet. I planned to start strong: three cathedrals in three days. Hereford felt homely, much like the city, and Gloucester hosted the most striking cloister I'd ever seen. But Worcester proved the favourite, not for the Norman crypt, certainly not for King John, but because it welcomed dogs. Our whippet pulled at the lead, dragging me past a well-behaved collie and timid dachshund, itching to reach a statue with an outstretched hand. The highlight of the trip: our usually quiet puppy, bark echoing across a silent nave, desperate to play with a marble Bishop Philpott. June, July, and August consisted of low-hanging fruit, day trips to cathedrals near London: Portsmouth, Chichester, Chelmsford, Guildford, Rochester and St Albans. All remarkable places with unremarkable cathedrals. My brother and I travelled to Salisbury to see a building that John Ruskin described as gloomy and profound. I found the exterior gloomy, the interior profound. Salisbury is full of surprises: the font, designed by William Pye in 2008, delivers streams of water over black marble, and an intricate Chapter House hosts Magna Carta. Salisbury proved an early favourite. It remained so for only six days. I visited Ely on the most crowded day of the year: the October harvest festival. Throngs of people ate toasties and bought trinkets by the truckload. A storm arrived at the nick of time, detaining me inside the great nave, where I joked with stallholders, selling farmhouse cider and autumnal reefs, about the Great British weather. Ely provided the coldest toastie and the warmest welcome. I can't remember much of the architecture, such were the joys. I had to squeeze in several cathedrals each time I ventured north. Leicester, Nottingham, and Sheffield proved vibrant and fascinating places, let down by their cathedrals. Then came Lincoln. If I ever tire of London, you'll find me in Lincoln. I climbed the Steep Hill, cheered on by hardened locals, and stumbled breathlessly upon the mighty façade. Lincoln Cathedral lends itself to romance, presenting the perfect marriage of complexity and size: it was once the world's tallest building, until its central spire collapsed during a storm in 1548. Every architectural feature seems enriched with armies of gargoyles or fields of carved foliage. Something captures your attention with every glance. The cathedral represents its city: self-assured, punching above its weight. I visited Winchester in January with bookish friends. Its cathedral commands attention: the endless nave, the soaring arcades, Gormley's sculpture in the perma-flooded crypt. We stumbled upon Jane Austen's grave, started discussing books, as we often did, and spent the rest of the day on the Austen trail, visiting her old stomping grounds. A few weeks later, I went to another great literary cathedral, the oldest cathedral in England, Canterbury, host to Chaucer's pilgrims and Edward, the Black Prince. My mum and I, after a few midday wines, stared at Becket's shrine and slurred about British history. The climax of Canterbury is its stained glass, the best I've seen: the south window seemed never-ending, showing off the most ancient glass in England. Canterbury is a marvel. My mum and I left feeling giddy, perhaps because of the wine, more likely because of the windows. Cathedrals are not designated by size, age or style. Function alone defines their status. A cathedral is the principal church of a diocese, a geographical area overseen by a bishop and distinguished by the presence of the bishop's cathedra, the Latin word for seat or throne. Cathedrals were once linked to the granting of city status, which explains why relatively small places such as Ely, Wells and Salisbury are cities, while larger places such as Reading and Northampton are not. As I ticked off the places close to home, places I'd been before, I noticed new details. St Paul's is an exercise in symmetry, an exposé of mathematical precision, a work of architectural genius. Or so I'm told. My memory of that day belongs largely to a Chinese tourist, probably mid-thirties, clinging to the rails, afraid to move near the top of the dome. She laughed nervously. She could not speak a lick of English, but managed to hold out a hand. I looked over my home town, standing proud in the jewel of its skyline, staring out at the Shard, the Tate and Thames. I'd been saving one cathedral, hoping to make it my last: Durham. The best view comes from the train. Legend dictates that John Betjeman pleaded for the stationmaster job because of that view. The cathedral watches over the city, the Wear protects the cathedral. I rushed over cobbles, heading down and climbing up, until I found its feet. The inside of Durham matches the beauty of the outside: the gigantic nave, rib-vaulted ceilings, the scale of Norman ambition. I spent two hours strolling with neck craned. You could spend a lifetime in Durham and barely scratch the sandstone. I saw the miner's memorial on my way out, two angels holding up a coal-black slate. The last colliery closed in 1993 but the memorial stands as a testament to Durham's history: the cathedral and the pits, two symbols of a stoic city. Durham challenged Lincoln but fell just short. My story does not have a happy ending. Time seemed to slip away and so far I've visited only 36 of the 42. I missed out on some apparent unsung heroes: Bradford, Carlisle, Ripon, Truro, Wakefield and Wells — a delight, so I'm told. I plan to visit them soon. It's nice to know there's always more to see. In England's Cathedrals, Simon Jenkins writes that, in the course of building, 'masons reflected the lives of the communities around them'. I found that many cathedrals represented their people: St Paul's felt prodigious, a little arrogant; Lincoln seemed self-assured and proud; Durham proved complex and stoic; and Worcester was welcoming to humans and dogs. But that sentiment felt unfair to other places: the people of Rochester, Bristol, Coventry, Newcastle and many other towns and cities, unlike their cathedrals, remain remarkable. The joy of visiting English cathedrals is visiting England, spending time with its brilliant characters.
The Sun
6 hours ago
- The Sun
Mystery surrounds abandoned UK village left to rot for 1,000 years that can only be entered through hidden cave tunnel
A MYSTERIOUS, 1,000 old village has become a popular tourist attraction and it's only accessible through a hidden tunnel. The path to the hidden settlement in the South West was uncovered by a group of diggers, hoping to get rich - who made a more important discovery. 3 3 The hidden site on the Penwitch Peninsula in Cornwall is accessible through a hidden cave known as a stone fogou. However, the miners stopped before reaching the village - disappointed when they didn't discover tin, which was valuable at the time. Eventually, after twenty years, Liberal politician WC Borlase decided to have the fogou fully excavated - but even he still managed to miss the village. Archeologists uncovered the perfectly preserved Iron Age village almost a century later. They found stone houses, circular drainage gullies and even potholes - which would have formed part of the timber round homes. The site was named Carn Euny, with 'carn' meaning a rocky place and 'Euny' being a celtic saint. The timber round houses at the site are believed to have been built between 500BC and 400BC. These would have been replaced by stone homes at a later date. The village would have kept cattle such as sheep and goats, while also practicing farming. Field boundaries suggest that the surrounding 40 acres would have been part of the community's farm. Pub With A 'Floating' Beer Garden By The Beach Despite living through the Iron Age and Roman occupation, the inhabitants vanished after the collapse of the Roman Empire in 400 AD. The site is now under the protection of English Heritage and is a popular destination for tourists. Cornwall is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the UK, with one beautiful Roman-style attraction being particularly popular. The coastal village of Porthcurno in Penzance is home to The Minack Theatre, which sees thousands of visitors each year. Created by architect Rowena Cade and her gardener Billy Rawlings in 1931, it was built by hand using tools and cement. She bought the land for just £100 after moving to the area in the years following the First World War. Since then, it has continued to attract history lovers from around the globe with fans describing it as 'magical' and 'spectacular'. 3
Telegraph
8 hours ago
- Telegraph
The English county with the best pubs, according to our expert
There's nowhere to hide at the Coachmakers Arms in Stoke-on-Trent. When I visited recently, I was quickly ushered into the Lounge by the barman with the promise that 'the fire is on'. What he didn't mention was that the room itself was tiny, everyone else knew each other, and I was to be the entertainment for the next hour. Who was I, went the questioning, and what exactly was I doing in Stoke on this rainy Sunday evening? For footballers, a 'cold, rainy night in Stoke' is a famous litmus test of quality; if you can do it there and then, the thinking goes, you can do it anywhere. For pubgoers, the challenge is less onerous – genial questioning rather than a howling gale and a vociferous home crowd – but the rewards for success can be worthwhile. Once I'd revealed I was on the hunt for England's greatest pubs, I was inundated with recommendations for other pubs in Stoke. The Six Towns (Burslem, Fenton, Hanley, Longton, Stoke-upon-Trent and Tunstall), it turns out, are full of good options – but then again, so is Staffordshire as a whole. From Leek to Tamworth, this is a county stuffed with great traditional inns, a county that, I think (and having ummed and ahhed over it, changing my mind half-a-dozen times) is the best in England when it comes to pubs. What it offers is the most reliable blend of the elements that makes a great pub: atmosphere, decor, good beer and a strong sense of place. For the last of these ingredients, you'll struggle to beat Burton-on-Trent, England's greatest historic brewing town, with its trio of very different but equally good pubs: The Coopers Tavern, a historic Bass brewery tap; The Devonshire Arms, delightfully cosy, with gleaming copper-topped tables and untarnished green banquettes; and the Burton Bridge Inn, where the town's brewing tradition still burns bright. For atmosphere, there are the classics in Staffordshire's less well-known spots, from Leek's quirky Blue Mugge to the Anchor Inn by the Shropshire Union Canal. My favourite out-of-the-way Staffordshire pub is perhaps the Brushmakers Arms in Oulton, simple but so welcoming and comfortable. And in terms of decor and beer the Tamworth Tap, twice CAMRA's National Pub of the Year, is unparalleled. This is a micropub that feels like it's been in situ for decades, with one of the country's great pub gardens. Of course, there were plenty of other contenders. Nearby, there's Derbyshire, with its marvellous blend of city pubs and Peak District delights, while the West Midlands, and in particular the Black Country, can match Staffordshire almost blow-for-blow when it comes to atmospheric pubs serving good traditional beer. Kent and Essex have a surfeit of excellent country pubs, and as many as half-a-dozen urban counties – from Bristol to Tyne and Wear – could have carried off the crown. Why is Staffordshire so good? My guess would be that this is a place with a resolutely working-class culture, where the price of a pint remains within most customers' grasp. Squeezed between the West Midlands and the North West, it's not a place that appears to go too big on fads and fleeting fashions, very good news when it comes to pubs. It's also a place that, in Burton, has a brewing tradition that very few other places can match, with the exception of London. But while all of London's great brewing names are now things of the past – remembered, at most, in elderly branded mirrors on pub walls – the drinkers of Staffordshire still cherish Bass, even if the owners of the brand (AB InBev) have only recently woken up to its potential. Nowhere is this more obvious than at the Golden Cup Inn, one of the three Stoke pubs I included in my guide. There are many beautiful pubs in England, but none has quite taken my breath away like the Golden Cup. Recently restored to the tune of £250,000, it has a superb Edwardian green-tiled exterior, decorated with Bass's famous red triangle trademark and with the words 'Bass Only' above the windows. This isn't quite true – there are lots of other beers available inside these days – but it was telling that, when AB InBev decided to put some cash behind the beer in terms of marketing material, beer mats and new pump clips, The Golden Cup was one of the first pubs to get them. If that was all The Golden Cup had, it would be a nice place for beer geeks and history nerds. But when I visited, just before my trip to the Coachmakers, it was full of people, young and old, some enjoying a bank-holiday 'Daytime Disco', most just chatting happily in the pub's plush interior. That's the joy of Staffordshire pubs: they're connected to the past, but still very much alive. They've got the lot, and it's well worth testing yourself on a rainy Stoke evening to enjoy some of them.
