The end of the summer of '71 . . .

Cyndee and I left Oxford and headed back to London, not having really spent any time there at all when we first arrived. We did all the normal touristy stuff: Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, The Tower of London,



gawking at Big Ben


and London Bridge,

doing brass rubbings in Westminster Abbey, watching the changing of the guard and the antic's at Speakers Corner.



We even went to the London Zoo, cracking up at the North American Gray Squirrels on exhibit . . . it just seemed so odd to see those pesky little critters behind bars.

Since we'd already pretty much scoured the east side of Scotland, we decided to head to Wales. Sort of throwing a dart at a map, we chose Llandudno, a resort town on the northern coast. The only hitch was that neither of us could pronounce the name to the train man and he being rather stuffy refused to sell us our tickets until we could say Llandudno correctly. I think only the line backing up behind us saved us . . .



While our Brit Rail passes were good to Belfast, the turbulence there was fierce and we opted not to visit. We were unpopular as it was being American in England during the Vietnam war. It only took a couple of bed and breakfast hosts slamming doors in our faces after confirming we were from the States before we conveniently became Canadian when tired at the end of a long day . . . they not being able to distinguish the difference in accent. It felt odd to be an outcast.

Cyndee had relatives in Manchester and although I was invited to visit, we decided to go our separate ways for the better part of a week and reconnect back at the Manchester train station. So as she headed east, I headed off to explore some castle ruins.

Conway Castle:


It was more than a little odd being so far from home and totally on my own. But I stumbled across a little town called Betws-y-Coed.



I made it no further. Between the country side, the small town itself and the Welsh people, I was smitten. I bought myself a Sheppard's crook which I still have, and wandered all over. It was so stunning, I was hard pressed to pull myself away to meet Cyndee, but oh, so happy to have my traveling companion back again.

A couple of things to note about bed and breakfasts back in the day. The beds were amazingly comfortable, the breakfasts enormous, the toilet paper stiff enough to write home on and the hot water non-existent. In those rare accommodations that did offer hot water, you paid by pushing coins in a meter. Cyndee and I had a growing affection for the University of Edinburgh. Open as a youth hostel in the summer, it boasted unlimited hot water for showers. Ahhhhh, heaven. The last of our time was spent exploring the west side of Scotland, before heading back south towards London and our departure home.

Loch Ness:


Backpacking through the British Isles was an incredible journey in every sense of the word. One unfortunately, not replicable in this day and age. Sorry Katie, the answer is no. And, yes, I did study while there . . .