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

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

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

Into North Africa. Dunes, Camels and Tea Waving goodbye to Spain and catching a glimpse of the great island fortress of Gibraltar, We embarked on the ferry trip to Ceuta.  I know that some of you have never heard of it and yet you probably have heard of the political wrangling between the EU and Britain over the territory of Gibraltar.......... what those bodies never talk about is that Ceuta is a Spanish territory on the mainland of North Africa, in what would otherwise be Morrocco..... I think there's a moral there somewhere. We arrived safely and disembarked into rather a shabby port town. I had never seen real poverty before, but over the next few weeks that would change. Ceuta was the first clue of what was to come. We walked and walked. Again it was another scorching hot day, but the sea breeze felt good and following it we found ourselves on a vast stretch of beach. We headed East following a line of immense dunes and of course the waves on our other side, roaring as they cr

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

The Smells Of the Countryside....And New Friends Heading down the West coast of France, we eagerly anticipated crossing the border into Spain. It was a lengthy trip, in part because we got stuck in  Biarritz  and St Jean de Luz....  no-one  stopped to pick us up, and to make matters worse the weather turned sour. Strong winds and rain meant that we were reluctant to stand on roadsides with our thumbs out. Anyway we eventually found ourselves in Hendaye, right on the border,  and after consuming rather a poor baguette for dinner, accompanied by some equally bad table wine ( we  didn't really care as it was cheaper than water in those days), we formulated a plan for our border crossing. As part of our history classes, we had learnt a lot about British airmen escaping POW camps and crossing over the Pyrenees, following forgotten trails. We decided that by following a disused railway track up into the mountains we would probably locate some of those trails... what an adventure ! We dra

It’s Here 🤗👍👏🏻 Walking Through The Stones ( part 2) can now be found here on the YouTube link below. This virtual tour is free for you to enjoy. Many of you have asked how you can contribute to the cost of making it....just click on the PayPal link below. Many thanks to all of you who have already done so. https://youtu.be/RIsFHocnYiA https://paypal.me/marksfrance?locale.x=en_GB

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