Hostelling is fantastic. I’ve been hostelling for over 10 years. The previous blog tells how I started and got into it. I’ve never looked back and apart from camping, I would not use any other type of accommodation unless absolutely necessary.

I have used hotels-motels in America on my last trip March-July 2007 because many of the places and the States I wanted to visit do not possess hostels. I also discovered that many hostels in Malawi are not called hostels but guest houses. some of these are also hotels, or boarding on hotels. In the developing world I take what I can find anywhere possible.

There are hostels in every populated continent. It was established in Europe at the beginning of the twentieth century, primarily for independent explorers and alike. Back then they were simple places of shelter. A bed and maybe something to cook a meal on and that was it. Later they developed but had rules, you could not drive to hostels and it was expected that chores would be undertaken – making your bed, sweeping the floor etc. Most hostels were away from cities and in places of remoteness and often historical or geographical interests. Many of the UK hostels are still situated in such remote areas.

However, today’s hostels have changed some what. Families can arrive, people may turn up in any vehicle they choose. The newest hostels are often found in major cities. Many of them possess rules as mentioned in the previous blog.

Although the hostel international and Youth Hostel Association hostels are sometimes stuffy and contain a sterile atmosphere, even the majority of their accommodations are individual and different. That is the beauty of hostels and hostelling; on the whole, most accommodations are different. Many of them strive to create an atmosphere, to be accommodating even friendly. The best parts about hostels is that you nearly always find a mix crowd of people and nationalities. This only adds to the flavour and hospitality. You meet people from all backgrounds, countries, races, and with a story to tell and something to contribute. for people staying long-term it is an opportunity to get another view of the world, a different option and an alternative epistemology. I enjoy this aspect of hostelling immensely. I have made many of my friends this way. Hostels are cheap and are great for budget travellers. I have never had to travel on a budget but I still appreciate the fact that hostels are usually inexpensive. Making my accommodation cheap usually means I will stay longer and can spend more money on activities and attractions. for others it means they can have a roof over their head for a night, maybe get a job to sustain their travel and use many facilities that might not be accessible anywhere else on the road. They are a vital component of the travellers information. I try to pick up a hostel guide each time I visit America. I use the internet and the travel guide books plus world of mouth and good experiences of previous hostels to obtain the best hostels. I always book my first hostel in any country I am visiting. I do not always mention my disabilities. The other item I like about hostels is that the majority of them offer tours and know about attractions. It is always good to know what is happening in a city, town, area. Hostels can give information, organise tours or know where events can be organised and this has often been their most useful asset for me when travelling in a foreign country.

I go travelling to explore, learn, make friends and have an adventure and I try to do it for as little money as possible. Hostels help facilitate the majority of this. I would not use any other accommodation until my disabilities and /or body says It is no longer possible. Being totally blind and travelling and using hostels has its own challenges. Many hostels have challenges for any traveller. Often they are difficult to find or in locations that have many steps, in old buildings, are narrow, have unusual opening and closing hours and many other anomalies. Obviously for me the most difficult event is finding any hostel building once I am in the near location. It is just a case of asking anybody I pass and hoping they know it or showing my map or address if I have one. Many locals often have no clue to what a hostel is, I have had this problem many times in America. You ask an American citizen directions to the nearest hostel and they think you mean the hospital! Young people with backpacks are usually more helpful. However, I must admit even several Americans have tried to give directions or once they know the address taken me there in their car.

I have experienced many types of hostels from square buildings with lots of similar uninteresting rectangular rooms with the customary six to eight bunk beds, white walls and no carpets. Everything is clean, there are few guests and the staff are at best perfunctory and worst uncaring. Ones I like best are somewhere in between really clean and really friendly. The more unusual and possessing character the better. You want atmosphere and liveliness, with activities and people of interesting backgrounds, with a story to tell, plus a warm friendly person to show you around and make you feel human again. Not everyone wants a hostel that rocks every night with young drunks, shouting and making lots of noise. similarly a place with no atmosphere and guests is also unfriendly. The hostel with something for everyone young and older, lively and relaxed is just right.

A hostel will not please everyone, often the best types are the ones that state what they are about and leave you to make the choice. Often all I am after is simply a bed for the night and the noise or what it looks like is of no interest. However other times I want a crowd with interesting people, events and information on tours and events. After many years of hostel international accommodation I gradually got into the independent hostels and the ones run individually were fantastic. I found hostels with relaxed ambiances, no rules, friendly staff and owners and people amazed to find one of their guests blind, but not put out or afraid of me. Hostelling is for anyone who wants it. Some of the European and UK hostels now cater for disabled guests. I have always taken things how I have found them and once I have had a hostel staff member show me to my dorm and shown me my bunk and where the nearest toilet is, I get on with it. I try to make friends with the people in my room and other hostels alike, joining backpackers in the hostel bar or lounge, garden or wherever the nearest gathering area is.

Once there I get my bearings using my cane, remember my directions and make friends with the hostel staff. I ask for help with directions to places, booking tours, help with the internet and purchasing food. I tell people I am independent and only need guiding once or telling information. This technique has tended to work all over the world. You get the occasional person who does not want to help or cannot handle my blindness. This occurred once in a hostel in San Francisco, America. I was travelling with a female friend; she went to her room but when I entered my dorm, I was met by a rather rude guy from Portugal. He was very put out about sharing with a blind person. I just shrugged and asked the hostel staff to move into another dorm. they obliged and all was well there after. I have been refused a stay in a hostel in Savannah Georgia, America because the hostel manager was not prepared to have me. He said there were lots of stairs and it was dangerous. When I said I had travelled around the world and it was not a problem. he replied ‘There are other accommodation for people like you’ and closed the door in my faced. I decided that he just did not want to help me. I felt it was his loss and spent the night sleeping on the bus station floor. I stayed in a hostel in Key West, Florida America with very rude staff who told me I could not check in until after 2.00 pm and then shouted at me when I asked to use the toilet. These things happen all over the world. However, this is by far outweighed by the helpfulness and generosity in other hostels. I have had hostel managers collect me from transportation stops, given me lifts to bus and train stations, given bottom bunks when none were available, helped with cooking and also had much assistance arranging tours and excursions. Not to mention several hostel managers and staff allowing me to stay for free on account of my amazing adventure and challenge.

I have been immensely lucky. There are to many hostels to mention in any blog or book. Some of the most interesting places are mentioned in each of the three travel books. However, probably the best hostels I stayed in were in Canada. Although many of the hostels in this country are not disabled friendly, being in old buildings. I found the ones I did attend homely and welcoming. The best hostel was Canadianna Backpackers, Toronto. It has an international flavour from its staff to its guests. People from all five continents, from India, Israel, America, Germany, Belgium, Australia and many other nationalities. You can get free tea or coffee any time day or night, and there is plenty of breakfast food for a small price. The hostel has all the requirements, internet, laundry machines to organised tours. There is a wooden back porch to sit and have a drink and/or a smoke and enjoy the hostel banter that exists among young travellers. There is always an activity occurring; whether it be a drinking night or some silly game on the back deck – anything from darts to ping pong!!! There is a continual buzz that hints that something is about to happen even when it is not. I have been there three times and each stay was memorable for the way the staff accommodated me. I was made to feel part of the furniture an had all kinds of people running round for me; making me cups of tea, fetching me food, taking me to events, organising tours etc. An absolutely fantastic and well worth visit to this hostel.

My other favourite hostel is Jolly Boys Backpackers, Livingstone, Zambia. Livingstone is a lively town on the bank of the Zambezi river with Victoria Falls as its main attraction falling nearby. The hostel Jolly Boys is a main part of the scene. A wild enclosed complex run by two lovely ladies, it is just the place to relax or party after arriving into Zambia. It has its own bar and swimming pool, internet and games tables. there are numerous tours and attractions on offer from rafting the river to bungee jumping the bridge, animal parks and African trible village and cultural displays. It is a hostel for all. though it caters mainly for the young and the wild. The boos cruise is one of its main events. I loved the place and stayed three times. One of the hostels main attractions for me was that if you stayed three nights on your arrival you got your Zambian visa for free. If you did not organise your accommodation this way or with one of the other hostels you could end up paying $50 US for the visa. Some of the people I met there have become great friends while others were friends for a moment. They made the stay memorable. A fantastic croud, we lay about in the sweltering heat round the pool, buying each other drinks from the nearby cheap bar and telling stories and enjoying each others banter and company. Life was blissful and easy at Jolly boys. The natives that worked there were funny, friendly and helpful. I often got taken to the bank or to go for a tour anywhere I wished to go it was no problem. When I ran out of money and my credit card stopped working. The owner just told me to pay for my accommodation when the money came and not worry. She was really cool and relaxed about it all. There are several other places in Africa similar but different to Jolly boys, but none of them quite live up to the mark. I would recommend this place to anyone who wants a bit of fun, nature, relaxation, adventure and mystery. You are guaranteed to make life long friends and have a blast doing what ever you desire. Rock on Jolly Boys.

The most unusual hostel I’ve ever visited was Venice Beach, Monkey Bay, Malawi. It was a hell of a place in many ways; malaria carrying mosquitoes in their thousands, ripped mosquito curtains, water everywhere in the bathroom, toilet doors that would open outwards as you were going to the toilet, wet and unusable toilet paper, and useless showers to name but a few. It was hot and humid, a hostel in a sand beach. Wooden chairs and benches on a concrete island with locals who played the same music of reggae constantly. When you were able to escape to the silence of the beach and Lake Malawi, it was beautiful. I spent twelve days there in between xmas and New year, 2004-05. It was unique. There was a bar and a small kitchen where you could get cold beverages and good food. This consisted mainly of chips and eggs if I recall. The hostel staff consisted mainly of young African boys with an owner in his mid thirties – he was drunk for the most part. He was a dangerous combination, especially when he drove us into the main town, over a bumpy and dusty trail with large pot holes all the way. It certainly was an experience. The worst hostel? A hostel-hotel in Montevideo, Uruguay. It cost $10 US per night, had no staff who spoke any English and no guests that I could find. You had your own room with a television and nobody to talk with. I stayed because every other hostel in Montevideo’s capital city seemed to be full. It was poorly placed with few food outlets and far from any city attractions. I spent my time walking the streets. The manager even tried to charge me for an extra night because I failed to leave before the allotted time of 10.00 am. It was terrible but an experience.

The countries with the best hostels are Australia and New Zealand. There are plenty of good hostels and plenty of choices in all major and small cities and towns. The best way to get to the hostels in New Zealand is by way of the Kiwi Experiences buses, which give you a discount. The hostel staff in Australia often book each hostel for you as you travel and even help with booking activities and events. Their staff are often very friendly and relaxed. North and South America varies. I found South America to be very cheap with hostels scattered about in most of the large cities and near the tourist destinations. The US can be good for hostelling depending on what State you choose and region for that matter. The mid west does not have that many. If staying in New York city, avoid the hostel international. I suggest the Jazz Hostels, there is a selection of them. Use the website www.hostelz.com for your search. The Green Tortoise are also good if you want lively, fun and drinking-party travelling. Avoid the Santa Monica hostel in Los Angeles, it is very good but expensive. The best hostel in the US is San Diego’s Ocean Beach Hostel. They pick up from all transport destinations, are moments walk from a beach and are near to all San Diego’s main attractions. The crowd is lively and the hostel is relaxed with no major rules.

In Europe I have stayed in the cities of Vienna, Austria, ok hostel, staff slightly unfriendly, cold atmosphere Bruish, Belgium, out of the city, not very good, no food outlets near by. Prague, Czech Republic, very cheap hostel, large dorms with eight beds. Paris, France, good hostel out from city, near plenty of food outlets, on a good transport line with the metro, friendly helpful staff, reasonable price Germany, stayed in several cities, all hostels ok. Ireland, Dublin, fantastic, for drinking and making friends, friendly staff in most hostels lots to do. Cork, hostel out of main town, on a bus line, friendly staff does breakfast Netherlands, several cities, Amsterdam, very lively, Hi has to many rules and big, has its own bar. Other cities more interesting. Arnhem, cool large hostel in the country, worth a visit if you like history of World War II.

Hostels in African continent. South Africa most brilliant, Cape Town has the most, hostels in Johannesburg, I would recommend Backpacker Ritz, they pick up from airport for a small fee. Friendly staff organise many tours as do most of the hostels in South Africa. Garden Route has plenty of good hostels. Once in SA a guide book can help you with this. Most staff are friendly and engaging. Bloemfontein has a hostel but not very good, difficult to get a bed, closes early. Hostels in Mozambique up the coast on the beaches are all good. The country does not contain that many. Zimbabwe, still has some hostels, 2004, don’t know if many still open. The ones I visited were mainly in the central and south. Vic Falls was the main tourist spot with good hostels. Zambia has good hostels, many variety for all kinds of travellers in Livingstone, one or two in the capital. Malawi, has some hostels, mostly called guest houses, they vary alarmingly so have to be careful.

Hostelling is not easy as every place is different and you don’t always know what you are going to get. It is an experience, like a box of un-opened chocolates. I love it as expressed. for a young person travelling the world it is ideal for a rest for a night or a base to explore a city/town for several days. They can cater for all. I have listed some of the best and unusual. Each night in a hostel is an experience, something different happens each day, someone arrives, people go the circle of friends changes the party takes another twist. Hostelling is fun, it is what you want it to be. for anyone reading this website in a hostel, hello, I hope you are having a grand time and making the most of it. For anyone reading this and thinking about using a hostel, go on have a go. I did and I was blind!!! Tony Giles, backpacking nutter.

Hostelling

I was born on 6th September 1978, in Weston-super-Mare, a southwest English seaside town about 20 miles (30 kilometres) from the large port of Bristol. My travel adventures really began when I was a teenager, when my best mate Will, who has sight in only one eye and an incapacitated hand, introduced me to hostelling. I was nineteen years old, full of enthusiasm, energy and foul language. We were off to Norwich of all places, about as far east as anyone can travel in England. It is like going to the corner of the earth and back, a distant, seemingly unimportant agricultural and cold city. We went there for a rock gig, something I had been doing for a couple of years by that point, so with our backpacks in tow, we set off for chilly Norwich. After a long train journey, we checked in at our previously booked hostel. We asked the owner to leave the door on the latch, as we would be returning late. The gig was held way out of town at the university, near the airport, but we eventually found it and enjoyed the show. Then things began to go awry, when Will suggested walking back to town. It was a crazy idea in the dark and in an unknown city, but I just followed, swearing profusely.

We eventually arrived back at the hostel and after entering easily enough, we went to our dormitory, but the lock would not open. We tried both our keys, but it would not budge. It was 1.00 am so we crashed in another empty, unlocked dorm. In the morning, the owner forced the lock, we collected our gear and left. What an introduction to youth hostelling and travelling! Nevertheless, I have continued hostelling ever since. By the way, I should mention I am totally blind and 80% deaf in both ears!

That experience opened the door to a new and exciting world and I never looked back. I would not use any other accommodation, as they are generally inexpensive and located in interesting places. There is always a mixed crowd and it is a great way to meet new and interesting people from all backgrounds. Hostels are ideal for any traveller and the Youth Hostel Association-Hostel International (YHA-HI) and other independent hostels are located in many countries, including the developing world.

I began by using YHA/HI abroad, but eventually found that they can have a stale atmosphere and I felt there were too many rules, such as no alcohol on the premises, smoking bans and curfews. The independent ones are usually much better in that regard, though they can vary alarmingly. That does not worry me too much, as I am usually only after a bed. However, I still use YHA accommodation when there is no alternative.

 

Taken from Chapter 1.

Seeing The World My Way

By

Tony giles

Not yet published

I’ve been travelling for the last seven years, in between studying. However, those days might slowly be coming to an end, or at least changing. I’ve been grunting the world; climbing mountains in Canada, hiking trails in South Africa, jumping off bridges in New Zealand, falling out of planes in Australia, and bussing all over America, to mention just a few things.

My blindness has not stopped me, my deafness has failed to prevent this and for the most part my kidney disease has caused no hindrance. Now that could all change. I need a kidney transplant or I will go onto dialysis. If I get a kidney dona immediately, then I could avoid dialysis and be travelling again within a year of the transplant. Dialysis would change the nature of my journeys. backpacking in remote places and territories would be a no go!!!

I first heard about this problem in October 2001 at the start of my five month trip around the southern hemisphere. I finished university and return to my parents in Weston-super-Mare where I had a general medical with a new doctor. It was just a check up; something you do each time you change doctors. My blood pressure was discovered to be rather high. further tests were gradually undertaken and the day I landed in Melbourne, Australia, it was discovered that something was very wrong with my kidneys. I got an email from my Mum telling me ‘You are very ill, have something wrong with your kidneys. Go and check into a hospital. You could die! Love Mum.’ I thought great, what a start to my trip. Naturally I found a hospital after getting rather drunk I should say. Tests were taken and eventually after undergoing a kidney biopsy, it was discovered that my kidneys were severely damaged and my blood pressure was extremely dangerously high. I was put on medication to try and control the blood pressure, told to watch my drinking and continued travelling. I had planned to go back packing around Vietnam for a month but this new development to my health changed this idea. I had longer in New Zealand instead and only a week in Vietnam. All this is in the first book. Therefore, I won’t go into more details.

Once back in England, five months later, I saw a specialist who told me I had roughly three years to live if I did not quit drinking and also if I refused treatment. Obviously, I did both and fives years on I am still sober, but my kidneys have decreased from approximately 38% in March 2002 to around 17-15% in October 2007. I have felt no ill effects except perhaps I feel slightly more tired these days. I travelled around the world in 2004-05 and the only problem I had was some diarrhoea in Southern Africa. I was told the main problem I would have with this kidney condition was getting food poisoning as my body would not be able to take the sudden loss of fluid and my kidneys would go into shock. I would need dialysis immediately – something that is more difficult to get in the developing world. It is near impossible in the bush, jungle or outback.

So you can see it is a potential problem. this has never happened and I have managed to control my blood pressure up until now. I have my own blood pressure machine with speech, it is portable. However, my kidneys have continued to slowly decline. I am now getting to the stage where decisions have to be made and a dona found. A live dona would be the best. for a dona a blood type match is necessary: I am O positive, so the dona would also need to be this blood type. Then that person needs to be basically healthy and not on any medication. Then there has to be what is called a tissue match. I know little about this, but basically under a number of tests the match has to be three out of six tissue matches for a transplant to go ahead. A live dona is the best because it can be done within a year and at mine and the dona’s convenience. Where as a dead dona that comes from a person in a road accident, or some other illness or injury is subject to permission from the dead person’s family. Plus, a tissue match, getting me to the hospital in time and keeping that organ alive. This process is more complex and harder to find a match. After several tests to my body which take about six months, I go on the kidney transplant register. In the mean time my kidneys might transgress to around 10% and I will require dialysis to do the work of my kidneys. This could mean going into hospital three times a week for four hours and being hooked up to a dialysis machine, or I could have a tube put into my abdomen and control it myself and self-regulate. I could do it four times a day with bags of fluid or every night on a smaller machine. You can see at once how dialysis will restrict my movements. The bags of fluid I use myself contain 2 litres (4 pints) of fluid, heavy to carry around. The machine I could use at night again is heavy and it requires bags containing 5 litres (10 pints) of fluid. On this machine I use at night it would mean I could do things in the day, go on day trips and as long as I am home at night and get around nine hours on the machine, it would be fine. I could fly to America, or Europe and take the machine with me. the fluid would be sent to the place where I am residing. On a longer flight to say Australia, I could use the smaller bags on board the plane. However, it will mean planning my destinations months in advance, obtaining extra health insurance, something I have not used on my last few journeys and probably have to stay in hotels or take private rooms in hostels. It would be very difficult to go from places to places city to city unless I plan each stop and get the fluid in advance. I can have stocks of fluid bags at my house and say at a favourite friends or my parents, so I can go visit. I can take my own machine or I can resort to self-regulation four times a day. However, that method means I would have to plan each day around my dialysis. I do not know how dialysis will affect me, it might make me more tired , it might have no affect on my body at all. It is designed to clean my body of toxins.

I am at present planning as many small trips as possible ready for the day when I can no longer travel as before. It might not happen, it might be a short gap in between having a transplant but I just don’t know. I have to be prepared to wait many years for a transplant. Even if I have a kidney transplant and it is successful and I do not reject the organ, I will still need several more transplants throughout my life. I am only 29 and a transplanted kidney has an average life span of nine years according to the experts. Therefore if this is the case then I would require another kidney at around the age of forty or so etc.

All this is a scary prospect, it has come sooner than my family and I expected. My next trip was going to be around India: that is at present on hold, I still intend to go to Australia next year, but the date keeps changing . I have one possible dona at present but the more options I have the better. The person who has offered might not be able to give after all the tests, he might only have one kidney – which is all anybody needs to live on. The tissue match might not be enough and I might reject the organ after transplantation. It is a complicated story, there are not enough live or dead donas. It is not easy asking a family membor or a friend if they would consider offering a kidney. Most people think what will happen to me? How involved will I have to be? Can I live with only one kidney? How much of my time will it involve? What is the operation like? How long will it take? Will I feel ill during or after? What happens if I get kidney problems later on? And many other concerns. It takes a special person to want to give a kidney to someone who needs one. You are giving someone else life by offering.

If I get a kidney and it functions satisfactorally, then I will be able to re-commence my travels as before, if I need dialysis and it is almost certain that I will, then I will have to travel in a different, more conservative way. However, I will not stop living and visiting countries. I will have to plan much more in advance and it will cost a lot more, but it can be done, I have to try it if nothing else.

I tell you this story to explain a little more about this website, my challenge, my victories and my inspiration. I have another challenge to overcome; so do many other people in the world, some with a kidney condition similar to mine. some people have far worse disabilities some have less. We all have battles of our own. I just say and highlight that anything can be tackled if we try, have some help and want too. At present I am feeling sad and disappointed, unsure of the next step and already fed-up of waiting. It will be a long personal war, and the first battle has commenced, but I will survive it and win the war. Wishing everybody out there on the road or wherever, what ever battle they are fighting, literal or personal, visible or not, the best of luck. Tony Giles travel extraordinaire.

The story below, is the basic outline of an interview I did for the Sunday News paper The People. The full story comes out in print on Sunday September 30th 2007 in their inside magazine. Check this story out and do a search online for Tony Giles for similar stories and articles.

The Sunday People
Deborah Doherty, Features Editor, Take it Easy Magazine.
Original journalist, Catherine Jones. South West news Services, Bristol.

Tony Giles’ Story:

Feeling the warm sun on my skin, I soaked up the unfamiliar smells and sounds around me. I’d come to America on a university exchange programme and had flown to New Orleans for a week’s holiday. It was the first time I’d travelled alone and I was loving every minute of it. Clutching my white stick, I couldn’t help but smile. I may not have been able to see New Orleans like everyone else, but every one of my senses was on overdrive, creating the perfect picture in my mind.

You see, I was born blind and have 80% deafness in both ears. But I’ve never let that stop me. I had one of the best weeks of my life in New Orleans – the travel bug had bitten me hard!

Back home, I couldn’t wait to plan my next trip. And it was an ambitious one. A backpacking trip around Australia, New Zealand, Vietnam and Thailand, lasting five months.

I sat my parents down. “You’ve always encouraged me to be independent,” I told them. “I really want to do this.” Of course they were worried, but they supported my decision.

“We’ll help you plan every last detail,” they told me. Together, we planned my route with the help of a Braille map. We even booked every hostel. “I can’t wait,” I told them.

Soon the day had come. “Be careful,” Mum said, kissing me goodbye.

The trip was fantastic – everything I’d dreamed of and more. And my blindness didn’t stop me doing anything. I white-water rafted, went on jetboats and even bungee-jumped off bridges.

One of my biggest challenges was doing a sky-dive. When the time came, I stood on the edge of the plane without being able to see a thing. As I fell, my body felt like it was exploding – it was better than sex!

I couldn’t see my instructor pulling the parachute and as I was jerked upwards I couldn’t breathe. But when I got my breath back it was exhilarating. I went twice more in other countries!

Back home, I was full of all the beautiful places I’d experienced. “How can you tell they were beautiful?” someone asked me. “For somebody who can’t see, beauty has a lot to do with what you smell and feel,” I explained. “I’ve learned to use all the senses of my body: my nerves, my touch, my sense of smell.”

Even though I’ve lost 80% of my hearing, what I have left is acute. I’ve trained it to be like that. I realised I could tell a lot about a place from the sound of the sea or the feel of the wind. If I go up a mountain I can feel the air squeeze. If I’m in a town, the energy and the space changes.

Since that first trip, I’ve been all over the place – Argentina, Brazil, Canada, Chile, Cuba, Mexico, Mozambique and South Africa to name a few. In total, I’ve visited 32 countries and every one of America’s 50 states.

I’ve had some amazing experiences from climbing mountains, hang-gliding and visiting ancient ruins to sailing, hiking and visiting African tribes. Because I grew up near the sea in Weston-super-Mare, I loved countries like New Zealand and Cuba where I could stand and feel the water in front of me.

But it’s not always easy. Crossing the road in countries like Thailand and Vietnam is particularly dangerous when you’re blind because the traffic never stops. I also have to rely on people a lot for directions which can prove hard with the language barrier.

One other thing that worries me is changing buses and not knowing whether my backpack has been transferred with me. I also found the water and steps of Venice and the cobbled streets of Prague quite difficult to negotiate too!

Once, while camping in Canada, I couldn’t find my tent. I wandered around the campsite prodding the ground with my white stick but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Then it dawned on me – the tent and all my belongings had been stolen. Close to tears, I hitched a lift to the local Salvation Army and they looked after me.

Funnily enough, I also had one of my best travel moments in Canada too. I finally made it to the Hudson Bay – the start of the Arctic Ocean. That meant that, under my own steam, I’d put my feet in every ocean of the world!

Looking back, my funniest moment was stumbling into a row of surfboards on a beach in Hawaii. They fell over like a set of dominoes!

One of the best things about travelling are the friends I’ve made and the people I’ve met. I’ve been guided everywhere since I was a kid and I’ve got used to trusting people. Time and time again, people restore my faith in human nature.

Now, I’ve written a book about my travels called “Seeing the World My Way” and am looking for a publisher. I’d love to be an author of travel books one day.

I’m currently planning trips to Iceland, Southern Europe and Australia. The world’s a fantastic place and I’m determined to experience as much of it as I can.

*For more information on Tony’s travels, log onto www.tonythetraveller.com

I am a young, totally blind and partially deaf traveller. I have spent many years exploring the world alone with only the generosity of the public and my cane for guidance. This is my story of a few delightful days backpacking in Scotland.

I set off from my home in Erdington, Birmingham on the morning of Saturday 1st September and headed north. I walk everywhere and only take public transport when the distance is too far. The fact that I do not know where I am going or where I am headed does not worry me – it never has. The specialist training I received at educational institutes gave me all the skills I needed to travel independently.

Once on board the train, after arranging assistance at the various stops along my route, I settled back and enjoyed the journey – feeling the jolts and bumps of the locomotive as it rushed along the track at high speed.

My first destination was Sterling, central Scotland. My reason for visiting was simple; I wanted to see what was there! After changing trains in Manchester, Lancaster and Edinburgh, I walked to my accommodation. When I am travelling abroad, I tend to do some research on that country, but with Scotland, I knew there would be plenty of history and entertainment, so I just asked what attractions were available once there. I also book my accommodation before travelling, depending on the season and the popularity of the destination. Sterling is an historical University city and although it was the end of the tourist season, it was still bound to be busy. As I was arriving at night, I did not want to take a chance of there being no available lodgings, so I booked in advance.

I stay in hostels wherever possible and Scotland was no exception. I love hostelling, the shared accommodation is cheap and it is a great way to meet people from all backgrounds and nationalities. Finding a hostel when you cannot see can be tricky, but I just ask for directions, or get a taxi if it seems far or a difficult location.

I was fortunate in Sterling as the hostel was close and the railway staff offered to walk me there. This is the kind of generosity I received throughout my Scottish adventure.

The hostel was a simple affair, a small building with four flights of stairs. There was a small reception, lounge and kitchen with the dorm rooms next door. The place had more doors than Fort Knox! I was checked in by a Polish girl and shown to my bunk bed. Then I obtained directions to the town centre and headed off to find some entertainment and get a drink.

Sterling’s town centre, which is situated on one of its many hills, was full of bars, clubs and take-away food outlets and created a vibrant atmosphere. The air was cool and the night buzzed with young, excited people enjoying their Saturday evening. I entered the first pub I found, located the bar and ordered a large lemonade before finding a table and checking out the environment. It was a fun pub, large and full of young people, so the music was loud and the place was lively. After one drink there, I moved on to a bar called O’Neil’s that was recommended to me by a local. On the street, I got directions to the bar and a Scottish girl kindly showed me the way. Inside, I found the bar and pushed my way through the crowd and asked a guy next to me to get the bar staff’s attention. Someone touched my hand and I ordered my usual. I fell into conversation with a couple of Scottish guys and was soon well away. One guy described the layout of the bar, told me the route to the toilets and described the girls who were plentiful. I later chatted with two girls, one Scottish the other German. We had drinks together and swapped stories until closing time, which was around 1.30 am, and then they walked me back to my hostel.

The next morning, Sunday, I explored Sterling’s many historical sights. A tour-bus visits the various attractions from which you can alight and re-board at your leisure. The ticket cost £7.50 and is valid for two days. It is an open topped double-decker bus with historical commentary. The commentary, while informative, was not always easy to understand or hear due to the noise from the bus’s engine. I was told I could get the tour-bus outside my hostel, but after waiting for half an hour, I returned to the hostel and asked a member of staff to walk me to the train station where I found a bus waiting.

I travelled round for forty minutes listening to the history of Sterling, which goes back several hundred years before Christ. The main attractions are the William Wallace Monument, the Old Town Jail, the Church of the Holy Rude, Sterling Castle and the Bannockburn Herotige Centre. I was heading for the castle, Sterling’s main attraction.

It was set on a large, steep hill and stood splendid for all to see, or in my case, find. The bus dropped me off within a minute’s walk and I just followed the upward gradient until I hit the castle entrance. Several people saw me and guided me through to the entrance kiosk. My bus ticket gave me a discount and I bought an audio guide. Together they cost just under £10. After getting the audio guide and instructions on how to use the headphones, I set off around the twelfth century fortress. Getting in and wandering around was relatively easy, even without sight. Again, I used the upward gradient of the hill and the echo of buildings to judge when I got close to the castle walls. I asked other tourists when I was unsure which exhibit I was at, or for the directions I wanted. Each area had a number and was described on the audio guide, which you followed by listening to the commands. The audio guide was excellent and well worth the extra £3 cost.

I began with the entrance, I listened to the guide and felt the thick, stone walls, their rough texture and thickness was fascinating. I followed the uneven, narrow, cobbled path up into the main part of the castle. There was an outer and inner courtyard; the main buildings surrounded the latter. This consisted of the Great Hall, where the Royal family would enter for parties and banquets, the Chapple Royal where baptisms’ took place, The King’s Old Buildings, now a museum to the Southern Highland military regiment, and the Royal palace where the Stewart Royal family of the day resided, and Mary Queen of Scots lived there on occasions. The palace was the largest of the four buildings and the last to be built, with individual rooms for both the king and queen. There were waiting rooms for courtiers and guests. Walking around it as I did, I could feel the vastness of the buildings, both the Great Hall and the church were enormous. However, almost all the rooms were now empty. The audio guide talked a lot about the visual attractions of the buildings, describing the renaissance style of certain windows and in the case of the palace, many carved statues in the walls. It was spectacular. However, much of it was lost on me due to its visual impression. I was able to appreciate the size of everything, the age and roughness of the materials, not to mention the unevenness under foot.

After my audio tour, I wandered around some of the open grounds, using my cane to follow the walls. This led me to an open area with grass and several steps up onto the ramparts. The area was very open and gave me a sense of the height of the castle and the openness below onto the city. On my way back, I encountered a couple of cannons, no doubt used to protect the castle from invasion, the same reason for it being built up high. I returned my audio headset and went off in search of a pub that had been recommended to me and was near the castle. The cool, damp weather was by now even getting to my tough skin.

After a bite to eat in the pub, I wandered down the steep hill to the fourteenth century Old Town Jail. I took a guided tour for £5.30. One of the managers, a delightful local lady, offered to help me round as a group of us followed the guide. We were informed of prison life in the early-middle nineteenth century. I felt a dog collar made from iron, a branding iron, which was a long metal bar with a sharp point, which when hot would leave a mark on the person’s skin, and I felt a very thick hanging rope. The place felt cold and the cells were rough. Prison life was harsh and only changed towards the latter part of the nineteenth century. The jail was used by the Scottish military in the early twentieth century before it was eventually closed. The prison had been transformed into a museum in the last ten years and had cost over £2 million to restore.

After my tour of the jail, I intended to catch the tour-bus back to the town. However, at the place I waited, it decided not to stop! I headed downhill as the wind began to pick up and the light began to fade. I just followed the downwards gradient believing this would eventually bring me back into the centre, which it did. I asked people directions to a pub where I had dinner and then more directions to the hostel, where I spent a relaxing evening chatting with other guests, who were mostly German and Polish. The next day I took the train to Glasgow and then up the west coast to Fort William to experience more Scottish culture.

The journey from Sterling to Fort William was fascinating, especially from Glasgow onwards. It was a single line track and the small train rattled along at a terrific rate. We went through tunnels, over viaducts and up several inclines. I was able to feel it all, the rattle of the wheels on the track, the ascent and descent of the train, the rush and rattle over the various parts of the route and the echo of the tunnels. The weather was sunny and warm and this added to the enjoyment of the five-hour journey. I arrived in Fort William in the early evening and got a taxi to the hostel, as I was unsure of how to cross the main highway between my destination and the train station. After a three-minute taxi ride, I was deposited at a country house on a steep hill – I had arrived.

I was in the countryside and the house/hostel was quiet and almost empty. I found the receptionist, this time a delightful girl from the Czech Republic, and settled in. I was shown to a crowded upstairs dorm and given directions to the town below. I just followed the hill’s slope and as soon as I heard traffic on the main road, I turned left and followed this until I found a crossing. With help, I reached the pedestrianised high street. This was almost completely dead, and a total contrast to the liveliness of Sterling. The few pubs were almost empty even though the weather was gorgeous.

I wandered around in the hot sun before having a couple of drinks in a local bar that belonged to the army volunteers of the First World War. I wandered on to find my dinner, and in an upstairs pub, I tried Haggis and the local Haddock. I then went back to find the hill and my hostel. I got lost and met an English couple who were on their honeymoon; they gave me a lift, which was fantastic. I spent the evening in the cosy, homely hostel, drinking free tea and relaxed by the log fire in the lounge, and talked to anyone who was around. The hostel had an international flavour with South Africans, Germans, a Canadian and some Scots, who appeared later. It had a gentle atmosphere with the crackle of the fire and the smell of wine – a truly relaxed environment to spend an evening.

The next morning I asked what Fort William had to offer and was told its main attractions were Ben Nevis, Britain’s highest mountain, Glen Nevis, an area with several beautiful walks, a river, a waterfall and the canal. However, all these and the many other mountain trails were a good walk away. I set off in the vague direction of Ben Nevis, unsure of what I would find. However, the weather changed and when the heavy drizzle moved in, I turned around and headed to the train station and went to the fishing village of Mallaig, only a hour and a half away. Again, I was treated to a bumpy, rattling, single line railway track with hills and bridges.

We wandered along the scenic coast before pulling into Mallaig, which was at the end of the line. I had the scenery described to me and it was fantastic. I love the sea and everything to do with that environment. I took a quick walk around the tiny village, first exploring the fishing port, which was the main attraction. There was little in the way of interest, so I quickly gave up exploring and went in search of food and a drink. I had several hours to spare there if I desired, but as the rain became heavier, I decided to return to Mallaig and wait for the evening sleeper train back to England.

That Tuesday evening, after four delightful days in Scotland’s central region and highlands, with its friendly people who approached me and talked to me without any embarrassment, I headed back to Birmingham. The sleeper train took me as far as Crewe where, with assistance, I caught the 5.40 am train back to Birmingham. I was home and in bed by 7.30 am, the end of another magnificent solo journey through history, nature, culture and hospitality and all seen through the eyes of a blind traveller. I put my small backpack away, ready for the next time it would be needed.

10th September 2007