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Svartisen 1
Svartisdal, for Bob Cranwell, imbued a sense of place. I was so lucky to learn this little part of history at a time when so much of it was still open to my enquiry. I was on my first trip of many driving a 10 metre bus on camping tours in Scandinavia. I’d started in […] Read more . .
Svartisdal
It was in the midst of powerfully absorbing wild scenery and offered a lot of chances to explore, besides the obvious draw of the glacier, and I went off often to find out more and more about the area.
What was the worst thing…?
What was the worst thing…. A very common question people seem to ask, whether a customer on tour, or an acquaintance who finds out the work you do is what’s the worst thing that happened to you ?
Congo story by Steve McHardy
My Favourite Day of the Tour… The early 90’s was still a time when you could operate tours in Zaire, but only just. Our tours began in Uganda. Groups arrived at Entebbe Airport not only with their own luggage, but also with a pallet of assorted tinned and dried food put together by the ever […] Read more . .
Oh, we’ll be alright !
…….I had felt there was an option that needed exploring, from my first visit there. Once having climbed high enough above the slippery rocky slopes of the main valley, the ridge offered an excellent high level walk back to the shoulder above the camp, where I knew there was a safe descent, and I set […] Read more . .
Please, what is this fellow saying . . .
Ticket to Delhi: Even being understood was part of the trickiness, as I found out myself when wishing to travel from Agra, where I’d been staying with my girlfriend, back to Delhi to meet a new group. Now Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal must be one of the worlds most visited cities and […] Read more . .
The Sanity Clause, (apologies to Groucho Marx)
I was entranced and delighted to hear chunks of a programme on Radio 4 one day, (link at end) which confirmed what I’d been telling folk for years – particularly those who travelled with me on camping trips in Scandinavia. I’ve since found that my mishmash of ideas is far from novel, but at the […] Read more . .
Oh, there’s a dead bloke – by Carl Welsby
I remember an early morning cycle rickshaw ride to Old Delhi station, rucksack on knee. There was a “Public Carrier” by the side of the road with a bloke lying under it messing about. But he wasn’t.