Seymour Travels Small Group Tours

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

Observing . Walking around Carnac yesterday, filming some video for my ‘stones’ tour, we came across some beautiful places. In amongst the grasses, and the stones, was a tree trunk... just an ordinary tree trunk.. I’ve walked past It before and ignored it, but my wife, Toni, yelled out and asked me to stop walking as she took this gorgeous photo...   I’ll never walk past that tree again. She captured the moment and I was able to understand my surroundings a little more thanks to her photo. Travel is a career for me, and sometimes I feel like I’m becoming jaded or tired of it. The constant packing and unpacking, always having to look ahead and motivate others to enjoy and understand what it is they are looking at, can be exhausting. Yes, there is always the reward of seeing their eyes light up ( I’m an ‘eyes’ person), as they realise or learn something new...  but sometimes, I just want to be in the moment myself.  The second photo, was one such moment. I had been busy, filming

Walking Amongst The Standing Stones Of Brittany in Western France Sorry for not blogging anything yesterday, but I was on a mission to create a short video.... nearly an hour long,... a video tour of the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Carnac, in Western France. I set out early, as it’s an hours drive from here, and beating the traffic, I arrived at the exhibition centre in Carnac at about 9.00am. Not knowing anything about virtual tours or videoing for Facebook and YouTube, I had to learn on the spot.  Trust me when I say that it was a big learning curve. As I loved to do, I extolled the virtues of standing stones, gave some background and history about them and began piecing together what little we know about them. The first video, there will be three, will air on Saturday morning and will be available through my Facebook feeds, so tune in to watch. However, I must first of all put out my disclaimers....   the audio isn’t good.... it’s OK,.. just not studio quality.

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