A retrospective series of a trip to the UK in 1975, recreated from travel journal, letters to friends, and photos. The photos were slides that I finally had scanned in 2009. Place names from my journals and slide captions might be wrong.
From a tourist brochure of the time:
In the interest of full travel journal exposure, I am including this lousy day with few photos.
Monday, 23 June 19752 PM [Having left The Isle of Skye] Now on the train pulling out of Mallaig Station. There were sheep and lambs standing and lying under a stopped train next to us. Even though I mourn leaving Skye, the most beautiful place ever, it is good to be on a train. [I had a Britrail pass, and because I was trying to save my money, I tried only to travel to where the trains went.] I enjoy the trains immensely—that lovely clacking of the wheels and the whistle calling.
Cheese for lunch—delicious cheese from the Orkney Islands that was only about $1 a pound on Skye! I am going to skip the Lake District [now I regret that so much!] and will take two days less in Wales so that I can go tomorrow to Lochranza, on the Isle of Arran, from which I can take the ferry to Claonaig, on the Kintyre Peninsula, from which it is ten miles to W. Tarbert, from which I can take a ferry to the Isle of Islay. [This was more Donovan inspiration because of his song by that name.]
I like the little black and white sheep dogs here. Two befriended me on Skye, one in Waternish and one in Broadford. They are sweet, loving dogs—now my favourite kind. They abound in the highlands and islands.
At the hostel in Broadford on Skye, at first I thought the warden was friendly and jolly, but we later came to believe his humour was really sarcasm! He seemed to not really like young people. He told me, “Their attempts to cook are pathetic!” and that they seemed ‘helpless”.
Saturday night, a young woman asked him if he could recommend a church. He said he did not go to church because 11:00 AM is when his real work begins. (Hostels close from 11-5 for cleaning.) He added that besides, he’d have to be a Christian, wouldn’t he, and that anyone who believes in an afterlife is naive, because there is only one life. She got pushy about him going to church and he got rude and she went upstairs.
[On this day, I took the train back to Larbert, stayed overnight with at the parental home of my Scottish penpal, J___, and picked up my heavier luggage that I had left for the Skye trip. Mary had left Skye earlier than me, had spent the night in Edinburgh, and had already been through Larbert to pick up her luggage and her case of books from her time in Israel.]
Wednesday, 25 June 1975
Yesterday was awful. I had bought a beautiful Scottish blanket [woven, soft wool and dark red; I still have it] and it cost me £2.50 to mail it. I am so worried about running out of money. Then, because I had stupidly left my hostel card in Skye, I had to telegram the warden to ask him to mail it to Wales—another £1.06. But I did work out with a travel agent that I could afford to go to Islay—about £5 for ferries but only £1.50 for a bed and breakfast. Cheaper than the £2 London YWCA! So after almost missing my train from Larbert….
….I took British Rail to the coast, to Ardrossan, and got a £1.75 return ticket to Brodick, Isle of Arran. I felt lonely and kind of scared traveling alone without Mary. Arran was a lush and flowery green place, quite touristy, and the scenery looked overstuffed after Skye’s simple lines. Then when I got to Arran, I would have to go 15 miles to Lochranza, a town at the tip, to take the ferry to a town on Kintyre, then 15 more miles to another town, then take a two hour steamer to Islay. I was planning to take great photos and make some Christmas present books illustrating Donovan’s song.O’er Islam
How sad the farm lad
deep in play
Felt like a grain on your sand
music makes
Roving the cliff
when fancy takes
Felt like a tide left me here
with birdsong
How neat the cut peat
laid so long
Felt like a seed on your land
Oh how sad I feel for your trials and cold shoulders! But any good movie isn’t all smiles and giggles and I admire your bravery at such a young age. If you had had pots of money and a constant companion, it might have well ruined your wonderful adventure. And when those doors slam at our backs, we are propelled forward. Can’t wait for the next installment!
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Fortunately, this was the only completely no good day.
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PS I wasn’t very brave to be afraid to find the Glasgow hostel at night. That’s the one thing I would change. Oh and maybe go to the door of that bus and insist on getting some help.
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Oh I disagree! Glasgow at night was probably quite dangerous for a young woman who would have had “lost tourist” written all over her. And the bus driver was just a mean person. Many women haven’t had the courage to even leave their yard. I was a traveler down the road less traveled, and was often surprised at how kind some people could be, and how mean some others could be. I learned from both.
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Yeah, Glasgow had a bad rep back then. In Wales, I found some very kind people (also Skye).
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Wish I could have been there! Ah, well — the journey was still lovely, yes? It’s a pretty place!
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I would today have appreciated the lush landscape more than I did on that day. I also would now be much more assertive with the bus driver. Although..today, he would probably be more helpful to an old woman than he was to a young hippie woman.
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You were brave to travel on your own so young. I’m amazed at all the places you saw so far, and am looking forward to Wales!
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