Seymour Travels Small Group Tours

Now Back Home In Britain I Had To...... After such an epic, five month long adventure, traveling through Europe and North Africa, I decided that I should become familiar with my own shores. The British Isles are a beautiful collection of islands and I knew nothing about them apart from what I had learnt in my history and geography classes at school. So, now back home in Britain I had to plan another trip. My initial idea was to hitchhike and backpack up to and through Snowdonia and Anglesey, two gorgeous areas of North Wales. An area that always intrigued me…it was calling. Having consulted maps and photographs of the area I decided to head straight into the mountains (and National Park) of Snowdonia. I wanted to camp on Mount Snowdon's slopes, and hike the beautiful valleys at my leisure and for my pleasure. So packing my rucksack, once again I set off. I ‘thumbed’ my way up to North Wales in the space of a day. It was an uneventful trip and eventually I found myself in the tiny v

Onward to Fes... And A Scuffle ! I'm sitting here, at this moment, drinking tea..... a nice cup of tea ! I'm English  and its what we do! On a fateful morning, many moons ago, we decide that we had to move on. And it was over a cup of sweet tea that we made our plans. We'd already spent several days languishing in Ouezzane....the people were wonderful and we'd been enjoying the food immensely... but our feet were itching and wanderlust was driving us onwards.  Our next destination was to be the medieval fortress city of Fes. You may ask why ? My simple answer is because its there and we wanted to see the place that gave its name to what is, a rather odd hat with a tassle. So off we went. The public bus was once again our main means of transport. Hiking across the mountains was not an option in those days. There was too much risk attached to it. Hitchhiking was 'improbable' because of the lack of roads with vehicles on them. So once again it was to be a beaten up

A Skateboard Shock And A Goat Leaving Ceuta on the north coast of Morocco and well into our 3rd month on the road, we had decided to carry on South. Rumours had reached us of a virtual border war between Algeria and Morocco and it was felt by us that prudence was the better part of valour. Our original intent was to go west but south it was to be. We were headed to a place called Ouezzane and this meant crossing the mountains. Once again filling our canteens with clean water and after devouring our muesli, a staple of ours so far, that was coming to an end now, we headed towards a tatty and really forlorn bus station in the middle of the town. After some hasty negotiations we had discovered that the next bus headed out was actually headed in our direction....and it was leaving. We ran, shouted and waved, all of which helped attract the attention of the driver, who looked at us with incredulity...remember.. this was before the days of mass tourism to Morocco, and we must've been qui

Traveling Companions ! After Leaving the North Coast of Spain, our simple plan was to head south, and using our 'Afrique' placard,  hitchhike into North Africa.... sounds simple doesn't it ? It was a hot and very uncomfortable day for two Brits, who enjoy cold wet weather, but we found ourselves on the outskirts of Burgos. In those days a military town, and home to large numbers of conscripted soldiers...... so what?, you may say... It was demobbing day ! Thousands of young men in uniforms were heading home after their term of conscription, and the roads were full of hitchhikers....   we realised that we... two Brits in 'civies' and sporting Union Flags on their packs stood no chance of getting a lift. Here we were in the midday sun (with only cheap vino Tinto in our water carafes), facing a very long wait indeed. It was decided that we should head over to the adjacent fields and pitch our tents, garnering a little shade and getting us away from the horde of soldier

SAND DUNES AND DRESSES Walking out of the Pyrenees, we  headed North and West towards the coast. In those days, Northern Spain was not a tourist destination. It was gritty, dirty, impoverished after many years of neglect and of course was still trying to recover from their vicious civil war, as was the rest of Spain. The British, Dutch and German waves of second home owners had not arrived. Arriving late one evening in San Sebastian, I noted how friendly the people were. They were all smiles and curiosity. This  didn't  change for our entire trip through Spain....the people were (and still are) wonderful. Upon our arrival we sought out coffee and tapas. We'd heard the coffee was good and the tapas were mouth watering. Finding ourselves lost in what was a large town, we wandered into an area with many tall tenement buildings...... it  didn't  look welcoming, at all. Looking up we were surrounded by tall concrete monoliths that were foreboding....however, there was a gaggle o

A Little Bit 'Tipsy' And A Bowl Of Muesli After arriving in France, Le Havre to be exact, Jamie and I headed towards a major road intersection and put out our thumbs, as well as our 'Afrique' sign.  It was a hot day and it was lucky that we had filled up our water on the ferry crossing, because it was to be a long wait...... it may have had something to do with our Union flag rucksacks ! I really don't understand the animosity between France and the UK. Anyway, we'd just finished our muesli lunch (great dried food for when you're on the road), and a car pulled up. He was headed towards Brittany and offered us a lift. This was to be my first excursion to Brittany ( I live here at the moment), and it was to be a good one. We drove for hours, and its always a long trip when there are two languages being spoken and neither party can really understand the other. However, we eventually arrived on the SW coast, near to Quimper, a city I've grown to love. Our dr

Afrique ! I’ve been asked to write a little more about my 'escape' from the British Isles, that took place many years ago. As I previously mentioned, I was a 17 year old who needed to get away from the 'woes' of my life. I had decided to embark on a backpacking and hitchhiking trip, across Europe and into North Africa. Now remember, this was in the days before mass tourism, and we were going to a place that was having trouble of its own. North Africa, namely, Morocco, and Algeria were in the throes of Civil wars, that we knew little about....but more on that in another blog. My friend and I (he is also a Rick Steves guide now) had agreed to meet on the outskirts of Bath, our hometown. It was a wet and very windy evening. It was also dark. We laughed at each other as we stood there with our military style backpacks and gear, our wind cheaters on and a bedraggled piece of cardboard in my hands. That piece of cardboard was our secret weapon ! On it was written the one word

My Itchy Feet I was 17 years of age when I first realised that travel was life changing.  Until then I had taken the family vacations to camp sites and holiday camps all over Britain. I had enjoyed traveling to farms, cider presses, and mountain trails with my grandfather in his caravan. I’d spent 6 weeks every year in London with my grandparents. and I always learnt from my vacations and the people around me...   but life changing... No ! At the age of 17....nearly 18, I had already lost both of my parents and a sister, in very close succession. I’d fallen in and out of love... as you do at that age. ..and my spirits were low. My best friend asked me if I’d like to go on a bit of a trip with him. I asked him ‘where to ?’ He said that it was going to actually be a big trip ! I agreed to his plan and we got prepared to hitchhike across Europe and into North Africa !…a trip that was scheduled to last 6 months.! Our preparation involved cutting up 4/5 sheets of cardb

Saxon Shore Forts If you’ve ever toured around the coast of England, you may well have discovered one or two, strange Roman oddities, called Saxon Shore Forts. Indeed, you may even have come across one or two along the coast of Northern Europe. Portchester Fortress During the middle of the 3rd century, Rome deemed it necessary to set up a separate strategic command, in order to control and protect trade through the English Channel. As the Empire proceeded to collapse, the shore forts created along England’s coasts were separated and out under its own command known as, ‘The Count of the Saxon Shore’. Just the name, should give you a clue as to why these formidable fortresses were built. Being coastal, they were essentially military ports AND garrisons. However, as we have very few mentions of these places from Roman sources, their use is somewhat clouded. Were they fortresses which protected against Saxon incursion or were they built on territories already settled by t

Touring The South West of England In March 2021, I shall be leading my own tour through this beautiful region of England. With the use of small minibuses, I’m going to take an intrepid band of travelers into some of the remotest parts of England. I was born in the north west corner of Devonshire and later into my youth moved to Bath and Bristol. My family come from Plymouth in Southern Devon, and Barnstaple to the north. I have friends in Cornwall, Dorset and Hampshire.....    and love this area ! I start my tours in Clifton in Bristol, the largest city in the area. It has great transportation links to London and also an airport that receives flights from the US. I’ve chosen Bristol as a starting point because of transportation but also because, historically, it’s always been tied to the America’s through trade and fishing. We know the John Cabot was fishing in the waters of North America, and trading with Native American communities at the same time as Columbus was ‘discov

English Landscape Gardens. Because I’ve created a new Cotswolds small group tour, that will include a couple of very special gardens, I thought that I should write a little piece on England’s gardens....landscape gardens in particular. Over the years, I’ve been fortunate enough to visit some great gardens scattered all over  the British Isles, and I have to say that the Brits are justifiably proud of this aspect of their culture. The predecessors of the landscape garden in England were the great parks created by people such as Sir John Vanbrugh (1664–1726) and Nicholas Hawksmoor at Castle Howard (1699–1712), Blenheim Palace (1705–1722), and the Claremont Landscape Garden at Claremont House (1715–1727). These parks featured vast lawns, woods, and pieces of architecture, such as the classical mausoleum designed by Hawksmoor at Castle Howard. At the center of the composition was the house, behind which were formal and symmetrical gardens in the style of the garden à la f

The Horses of Britain - Are they wild ? As a young man, I lived near to both Dartmoor and Exmoor. These are two National Parks that sit nicely in the SW peninsula of England. At weekends, I would often head out to one of the moors with friends, to go and try to find the ‘wild’ horses...    It was never a difficult task. Because they have no natural predators they roam freely and are found in ever increasing numbers, all over the moors. Growing up in the British Isles, I was fully aware of the fact that there were other horses, roaming freely all over our islands. In the Shetlands, you will find short stocky horses, wandering amidst the heather. In North Wales, you’ll find the gorgeous Carneddau horses, and only about 240 of them left in existence. In the South of England, you’ll find horses grazing in moorland areas, contentedly. It really is a wonderful thing to see. Imagine driving through the gorgeous moorland areas of Britain, and as you turn a bend in the road, ther