The cycling vampire bite

As a child I went to the beach for my holidays but I have no strong memories of building sandcastles or going swimming in the sea.  There are family photographs showing me with donkeys, my sister, a captain's cap, bucket and spade, candy floss, sagging swimming trunks, and other essential seaside regalia.  I suspect I must have enjoyed the seaside back then, even if it was only the North Sea that I was dipping my pre-pubescent toes into.  Since my formative teenage years however I have strong memories of actively disliking the sand (when required to sit and have picnics on it) and the sea (when required to immerse any part of my body in it).  I did once experiment sunbathing on a beach somewhere in southern France when my own children were younger, but this may have been as much to do with the casual nudism on display as anything else.  Nowadays I am more than happy to stroll along any beach, even to paddle in the warmth of the Mediterranean.  I have even paddled in the Volga river of all places.  But a beach holiday is not for me, nor for my wife, and we prefer what I suppose you might call 'activity holidays' to sunbathing or sitting reading on a beach or beside a pool.

The phrase 'activity holiday' is loosely defined however.  We eschew skiing, surfing, horse-riding and the like.  Walking is our thing, cycling too.  Or pottering around towns and cities looking at anything that might be interesting, sitting in cafes, wandering through shops and markets, eating outside, going to music concerts, visiting art galleries, castles, occasionally churches.  Just putzing in other words - and sometimes doing nothing more than sitting and watching the world go by.  My wife will occasionally draw or paint and I will take zillions of photographs.  She will also swim when possible, a form of exercise I have long since abandoned due to the necessity of getting wet and cold and wrinkly.
Our walking can be anything up to 20 km a day, more than long enough for a middle-aged couple, especially since it usually involve hills to ascend and descend, or gorges to descend into and then clamber out of again.  We are great fans of the Spanish system of senderos and the French equivalent of petit and grand randonnees.  The Americans too in their National Park system make it easy for amateur hikers like us to navigate our way around some of the great natural landscapes the US has to offer, as illustrated below in an alpine meadow in Yosemite.  (Holiday tip: avoid Florida and try out the beautiful South-Western states.) 
This is our kind of activity holiday and largely avoids the danger of being eaten by sharks, as sadly has happened recently in Australia.  Or breaking anything coming down the piste on skis.  Or falling off a truculent quadruped and breaking or bruising something valuable if horse-riding.  But I did almost get attacked by a snake in Andalusia recently, saved only by its last-minute decision to slither off into the undergrowth instead.  And I still have two bloodied scars on my shin for all the world looking like a vampire bite, but in reality the result of a minor cycling accident.  I should also mention that our hike through the Yosemite alpine meadow resulted in a string of painful mosquito bites across my back due to my failure to apply any bug repellent.  On the upside, the park cafeteria does excellent hotdogs and French-fries.