At the age of 63, I still spend much of my spare time traveling around the world. One of my favorite stays is in Lausanne, Switzerland because it is a wonderful place of special memories. Early morning would find me sitting with good friends, sipping coffee and watching the sun rising from the haze above Lake Geneva. This small provincial town was usually my starting place for my hiking and cycling adventures that has always been a healthy magnet to me.

Then having said that I have traveled around the globe on either University time or just slogging it out on an old tramp ships to see the rest of the world. My girl friends always thought I was crazy, because most of my escapades were performed on the spur of the moment. Many of climbing expeditions in the Swiss Alps, the Cascades of the United States were last minute rushes. This could probably be blamed on my expedited metabolism that even in my old age hasn’t slowed down.

In my travels I have stayed at many hostels around the globe. Usually I have preferred to stay in smaller towns, because of the better environment. In the past forty years I have had only one mishap, when somebody stole my passport and travelers checks from my luggage in a Winnipeg, Canadian hostel. Early in my student year’s money was a commodity of what didn’t come easy. When I finally reached my academic tenure, I have still preferred to be around the student groups. There has always been a more admirable camaraderie around the younger generation, then their elder, pipe smoking counterparts who do not understand late night parties. One of my greatest hostel experiences was in the town of Bremerhaven, Germany, waiting to connect with a German Lloyd cargo ship.

It was an extremely cold night and snow was falling and I had left with some friends from the Hostel, to meet up at a local beer garden. The Albert-Schweitzer hostel reception received a telephone call from the ships chandler that they needed an extra crew member and that local ships pool said I was available. The ship would be leaving as soon as the tide turned on the Rhine, so it was an urgent message. Surprised as I was, when the local Police called out my name and summoned me that I had a berth on the vessel.

All these bold ventures I have rushed into throughout my life, mindlessly and sometimes with very little money. I am now more or less retired, but I do teach occasionally, climb, cycle and go backpacking. Today I call the United States my adopted home and that is where I live in Los Angeles County during the winter months.

Being a bike rider for years in England and now America, I finally bought a hand built machine from a friend in Italy. Because I am supposedly a health nut I ride my bike everywhere that I can; when I can. Most of the summer months I reside in Indiana I have a healthy outlook of riding my bike on country roads. Trusting in my own emotions I have ended up in the early years, hitting the high seas on an old cargo ship or sailing vessels.

Of course I have always kept journal of my travels so it is easy to inform the reader that the ship’s bow name was the " Gisela Venmann." Up the gangplank with no experience of sea-life and basically with just the shirt on his back and small tote bag. Without any prior knowledge I have made officers beds, cleaned cabins and toilets. My chief job was to look after the German ships Captain and make sure the old man didn’t stay hungry for long. Not to my liking was an unusual concoction that was a breakfast delicacy for the ships master, roll-mops (pickled fish), black coffee and a dollop of strawberry jam. Ugh!

The old cargo tripped mostly around the Caribbean, waiting for cargo to load on board it never fails to amaze me that I have had the ability, to prove my resourcefulness in any situation. The ship was a regular United Nations, with a Chief Radio Officer from Latvia. He was 70 years old, if he was a day. Other crew members were the cook, who was from Portugal, along with a mix of scallywags from Jamaica, Germany, the Sudan and other Middle Eastern countries. The ship was registered in Liberia and we got paid in German Marks. For nearly six months they drummed for trade, around South America and the Panama Canal and the American West coast.

I haggled for an Amazon yellow napped parrot in El Salvador after we arrived there. Under the close scrutiny of security police who wandered the water front jetty with fully loaded machine pistols, I took the bird on board. After the native transaction the creaking ship was minus a bath towel, several bars of soap and ME, $40.00 US dollars.

The old cargo was without air conditioning, so I slept on the deck many nights even when the warm rain fell. I never regretted one minute of his first trip to sea. Even when having no option I stood in for the wiry German "Donkey-man" who greased and oiled the pistons and other machinery in the Engine room. The Panama Canal region is not a cool place and at-sea anchor waiting for a new cargo is dragging, arduous boredom in 120 degree humidity. Everything finally went to hell when one of the crew finally snapped in the heavy heat and attacked the Captain with a hammer. The old man was hospitalized and his aggressor was spirited of the ship by the Balboa authorities to an undisclosed jail.

My final voyage was to Vancouver, Canada and a cheap junket with a "Ladies Orienteering" group that got him back to England, minus my passport. I will never know how I managed to smuggle "Lola" the parrot onto the plane or through customs and immigration at Heathrow. I had bought a small doggy carrier and was allowed on board the jet and it was only when “Lola” was audible did anybody realized that the occupant was a parrot. After my parents past way, the bird was part of the estate and ended up with my sister in London.

For over a year I lived in the Northern Territories Called Queensland, Australia. Some friends of mine had emigrated there from America, so I had an invite stay there. Cairns were a small rural town where I lived in a beach front property, but it had its drawbacks. Because of the subtropical climate there I just never get used to the rich establishment of the insect population. Everything from large Cane beetles that drummed on the louvers, to the funnel web spiders that always turned up in the garage. The fact that we had a swamp behind the housing tract didn’t help my uneasiness, specifically when it rained and many of the creatures that thrived there slivered, crawled and came into the house.

Back then, Mosquito’s were a big problem for me and the burning repellent never completely removed these annoying, biting bugs. However I did have a rather unusual close partnership with a Carpet snake that had decided to stay in my home. The creature released me from much of the burden of chasing down other unwanted poisonous things that happened upon my sanctuary. Finally, I decided that enough was enough and left for Sidney by train. After some enquiries at the Flying Angel mission that housed wayward seafarers, I was able to find a berth on a small British cargo ship.

I have always had an avid interest in old maps, because in my restless sea trek I had returned with a collection of old maps from the "Caribee" (Caribbean) as noted in 17th century sea charts and other Central and South American lands. My cavalier spirit has never ceased or my romps around the world. Strange as it may seem I studied for most of my academic credentials on large cruise ships and have taken the exams at the University of London.

Incidentally, one of the assistant Professors at the University of California in LA sent me an email regarding a company that sold historical maps on the web. I have searched my office for the information, but I have been unable to locate the address. I recall the businesses name was Maps of the Past, Inc, but I still cannot locate their website. My friend is on a sabbatical, so I have been unable to reach him for the details. I am hoping that they have early maps of Switzerland, which I can have framed for my home. Perhaps one of the members could contact me with the address should they know of it.