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The Broch Of Gurness

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  The drive was a pleasant one…. We passed Kirkwall and followed the main road to the Ness of Brodgar and pass the Ring of Brodgar. Driving up over the hill to the North we were mid way between Skara Brae and the Stones of Stenness, and the view across the ancient pastures and meadows was beautiful. Dotted with a handful of small farms, the setting was tranquil and atmospheric. We headed NE … A low range of hills was traversed before we drove down to the pristine beach of the Bught of Lindy. The road followed the white sand but it had become a track. A sharp right angle… a kink in the road saw us safely navigate around a marshy area, and as we did so the local farmer pulled his tractor over into the layby to enable us to pass. He waved…… we cheerily waved back. The sun was out and the sky was blue without a cloud in sight….. I knew that we were only seconds from our destination…. No one else did. I smiled inwardly. The gravelled parking area ‘crunched’ as I brought our minibus to a hal
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The Templar Crisis

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  “It rained again last night! I am heading towards the great abbey in Tavistock. My friends…. Other Templars… will be awaiting my return. Two months ago we had word that the king of France had sent out orders to hunt us all down. Many have been captured by his constables and men-at-arms already, and I have no doubt that many of them will perish. The King has a vendetta against us…. It is thought that his reasoning is based on the fact that he owes our ‘order’ huge sums of money, and that he fears our strength. My mission has been to find out the real causes for this injustice against us, and to find out what, if anything we can do. My news is not good and my brothers will be dismayed. My travel has been arduous, and trekking across France and England has been perilous. Spies are everywhere! I am fearful. Many of our friends on continental Europe are fleeing…I am told that they flee to the mountains, East and West. We ourselves, should hide in our Northern mountains. Sanctuary will be
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Location: United Kingdom
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There Is A Mist Hanging In The Air

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  Climbing out of our tour bus, I invite everyone to ‘walk this way’….. I navigate my way to a ‘rubble field’ on the moor…. One of many such piles of stones that stretch away into the distance. I stand between two stones…. A doorway…. And I invite them into my home. Nine intrepid explorers and myself step back in time as we cross the ancient threshold and into a home that was last lived in four thousand years ago. I ask everyone to take a seat on one of the stones that make a crude circle amongst the marsh grasses and peat bogs of Dartmoor. We all sit. There is a mist hanging in the air and a couple of Dartmoor ponies graze peacefully on the tor ( a volcanic plug made of granite), in the distance…..it’s peaceful. As everyone breaths, our breath turns into steam and is taken away on the soft moorland breeze, that in turn makes us wrap our jackets around our bodies for warmth. I start to tell everyone about the lives of the folk who once lived in this house…. How they lived, what they at
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Location: United Kingdom
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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
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Returning Home ~ A Great Adventure

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Returning Home ~ A Great Adventure Several months after starting out on our epic and life changing trip, we found ourselves once again in a cross channel ferry port awaiting embarkation... this time back to England. Our Afrique sign (used for 'thumbing' lifts as hitchhikers) was discarded long ago, because it had taken us across Europe into North Africa. A piece of cardboard that we had used to get us home...a simple Union flag painted onto it... had gotten us back to Le Havre. Much wiser and somehow, many years older, we patted each other on the back as we boarded for the crossing. We got into Portsmouth Harbour, very late at night, but being the hardened travellers that we had become, we were not phased by the prospect of sleeping in a bus shelter or perhaps in one of the fortress towers that encompass part of the town....all was good... we had after all just arrived home. We were both euphoric ! the feeling of accomplishment was immense, and I know that we had both cast off
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Fes And A Scuffle

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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
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A Skateboard Shock And A Goat

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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
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