How many people out there went on the overland trail to India - from London to Kathmandu or beyond - in the heydey of the 1960s and 70s? I was one of them! The summer of '76 was known for its heatwave and water shortage; I had just left school and was singing School's Out For Ever along with Alice Cooper. I was off to India - the place where my mother had spent her early childhood and my grandparents had worked and lived in the '20s and '30s. I had flared jeans, a rucksack, new sleeping bag from Blacks Outdoor Shop, an instamatic camera, a bright orange cagoule with the flexibility of chainmail and a bottle of Kaolin & Morphine to ward off the squits.
Nobody seems to remember that the autumn of '76 was one of the wettest. My family waved me off from a rain-splashed Durham station. The next day - a drizzly, cold early Sunday morning in late September - I embarked on a three month camping adventure across Asia with a group of total strangers. The coach was an old Bristol bus; I sat in a seat facing backwards. The company, Asian Greyhound: Swagman Overland Tours, was run by an Australian known as Uncle Norm. Looking back, I'm amazed my parents let me go. My Dad said he prayed a lot.
With over 30 years of gestation, the experience has moulded itself into a novel; a travel mystery called OVERLANDERS. But more of that later.
This week, one of the former passengers, Rob McKay got in touch wanting to trace our group and call a reunion. So I want to share some diary entries and photos - and hope that some of my former Swaggies might get in touch.
I'm taking up the action six weeks into the trip, so that I can give a daily flavour of what was happening this time 33 years ago. It's a vanished world - a privileged one for Westerners who could travel at will, strike up transient friendships and drink in all the amazing sites en route (or in some cases just drink). I never stopped being amazed at the generosity of strangers or the persistence of kids.
Travel back in time with me ...
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