A very long time ago, three wise (?) men on their way to what would be an eye drooping boring conference, driving from Calgary to the American coast, were regaled by the adventures of one Mr. Don Snow. The other two, which included myself and another motorcyclist by the name of Lawrence Law, listened as the miles rolled under the radials, as DS told of his long time ago European adventure. Many who have been following this Blog will recall I began it during my own European adventures as a way of keeping family and friends informed.
I digress. As often when you place three men in a room, stories would be told and in this case sitting in a sedan, they were.
Waaaaay back in the sixties while I was just a young-un dreaming of future long trips on a motorcycle, Don was traversing the continent. Here is his story told for possibly the very first time, unedited and unabridged as sent to me by the author. Unfortunately photographs were placed on slides (anybody remember those?) and those were long ago lost. However I have an original piece of artwork done at the time which will be included.
Read away and remember, adventure can take place in any way, shape, form or place. All it takes is some tools and the desire.
Don
For my motorcycling buddy.
Hi Frank!
I
sailed from Quebec City to Southampton, GB on The Maasdam, it was a
Dutch ship…part of the Holland American empire leaving May 1964.
I
spent several weeks in London, staying at the YMCA and scouting around
looking at historical buildings, exploring the big city, meeting cruise
shipmates.
Eventually
I met an American kid who wanted to travel to the mainland and then
head to North Africa…I gave him my Swiss address in case we later
crossed paths.
I had an Architect friend from Vancouver I wanted to see in Switzerland, where he had moved after leaving UBC, in Vancouver.
We
sailed to Calais and then started hitchhiking to Paris. Our plans were
to youth hostel along the way. It didn’t take us that long to get a
ride and we were
dropped
off in downtown Paris…I can remember all of the “ladies displaying
their gorgeous breasts from upper stair doorways inviting us to stop in
for some frolicing.
The
first night was at a hotel our doctor had referred us to, we ended up
sleeping in a lounge and the bathroom was located in the staircase.
We
met some fellow Canadian travellers at the youth hostel we moved to and
there we separated to head out on our own. I got a ride from a
Canadian lad who
had
room for me in his new beetle VW, we went through France to Nice on the
Mediterranean Sea. I started off hitchhiking north towards
Switzerland, heading for Lausanne. When my first ride
stopped
to pick me up a huge aggressive motorcycle policeman pulled up to the
driver’s window and started to blast him verbally, advising “No stopping
on the autobahn”.
He
demanded to see my passport and put a huge scare into us. It took me
several days to reach Lausanne and I got fed up with hitchhiking after
waiting for at least 6hrs for a ride.
Being dropped off many miles from the main highway didn’t help my day, and the last driver wanted to share my body.
In
Lausanne my American friend showed up with an Australian girl in tow
[they met in North Africa]…he asked me to join forces with her. He had
plans to meet another gal in Denmark.
The
Australian girl and I hiked to the Swiss 25yr. national celebration in
Geneva and we really enjoyed the trip. Her beauty got the drivers to
stop and I was responsible for protection.
We
decided that we’d each buy a used Vespa scooter so that we’d have our
own means of transport and less hassles along the way. She wanted to
head northwards, eventually
getting
to Great Britain. We started off across the Alps heading north into
Germany. She kept having trouble hitting bumps, damaged her seat on
stonewalls…by the end of the first day, after
6
incidents, we chose the train to transport our Vespas across the
mountains. The last accident involved her driving into the side of a
new BMW…that’s when we decided to part.
By
then we had picked up a male American motorcyclist who was heading back
to Britain and more than willing to travel with an Australian beauty.
While in Germany, we spent a night sleeping
in the Black Forest. In the morning I was informed that I’d slept through a visit by wild pigs rooting in the vegetation.
My
objective was Denmark, I had plans to meet a university classmate and
his wife who were picking up a new VW van and then touring several
Scandinavian countries.
Copenhagen
was a gorgeous place to be in the summertime, with great architecture,
history and willing young ladies. My first opportunity followed dancing
at the University Center,
where
I met a lovely Danish girl named Lena. She invited me home after the
dance and her parents were away on holidays. I was subsequently invited
to join Lena and her
girlfriend
travelling to an island retreat for a long weekend. It was difficult
for me to refuse, but my Canadian chum was to be in Copenhagen that very
same time. The next leg
of
my trip was driving to Norway c/w scooter in the VW van, we also saw
many parts of Sweden. I had thousands of slides of my trip, but dumped
them a long time ago.
The
next leg of my trip was to Finland, I reached it via overnight ferry…on
the ship I met an American architect who was touring looking at
architecture too. He was game to travel
on
the back seat of my Vespa for a tour of Finland. On my way back,
travelling in late fall across Sweden, I took a ferry to East Germany.
It was cold and wet and poor travelling,. Along
the
way to West Berlin, I spent a late night in a huge tractor shed on a
collective farm operation. I got the scare of my life when I huge
German fellow showed up and saw my tracks
to
where I was sleeping, hidden behind a tractor. In my best German I
explained that I had no East German money, that I was a Canadian
architect on my way to West Berlin and I hoped
he
would not report me to the secret police. He smiled at me after
looking at my Canadian flags and Swiss licence plates, then wished me
good night and smooth travelling. I was fortunate
to
have no difficulties at the West Berlin border crossing and looked up a
former shipmate who was working as a nanny for a family in the city.
The
next leg of my journey involved driving out across the Iron Curtain
towards West Germany. I requested at the first gas stop that my Vespa
requird 2% oil mixed into the gasoline.
I
was wary about this requirement and spent some time with the attendant
who said “ya, ya mit 2% oil”. It was at my peril that I took him at his
word and it wasn’t that much later
that
my Vespa seized up and I had to find a way to continue on. A few
people stopped to offer aid, but all said it was verboten to pick up any
scooter on the autobahn…some we’re willing to
drive
me the 60 miles to the border, but I’d have to abandon my scooter.
After may hours of pushing my Vespa along the edge of the highway, a
West German couple did stop and
were
willing to pull me [thank goodness I had rope] to the border. When the
East German border guard saw me…he said Verbotten!! He was kind to
insist that the next transport truck
loaded
my scooter into the truck and dropped me off in West Germany. A West
German couple driving a huge truck offered to drive into the next city,
they gave me fresh food and coffee
and
I spent the night in their truck, following that pushing my Vespa to
the nearest repair shop. Those last two days were a nightmare!
The
next leg on my trip was back to Lausanne, Switzerland where I was able
to sell my Vespa [after travelling 3,500 miles] and a train to London
where I worked for a British Architectural firm
all
winter and the next spring. My Mother flew over to meet me after I
finished work and we enjoyed visiting members of our family in several
parts of England and Scotland. There were
no more bouts with Vespa scooters, we took a cruise ship home to Canada in July 2065.
PS:
Vespa 125cc was 4-6 yrs old, cost $600, insurance was a pain. I had 2
extra soles attached to my new walking shoes, these came in handy while
skidding along tram tracks & cobblestones in the rain.
I
have a sketch of my scooter drawn by a classmate. My itinerary was
based upon a touring book written by an American Architect in 1963+-.
Scandinavian architecture was a big draw for
me
and I did have an invitation to work in Geneva Switzerland for 1 year.
I had 3 job offers in London and should have accepted an offer for 1
yr. working for a firm that had work world-wide.
In my opinion, at least one year, preferably two is required to gain much while working world-wide.
Yes that’s me sketched from an actual photograph by a classmate who married my sister.
I was going to fax it to you but didn’t have your fax number.
This
review made me think of my winter spent in London, meeting several new
friends, seeing musicals and theatre or plays, visiting The Lake
District,
Scotland
and Ireland, also Cornwall…it was an exciting time of my life, each day
offering new adventure and challenges. London offered lots of
opportunity…the girls in Soho were like those in Paris…standing on an
upper staircase saying “Hey Mate, How About A Nooner?” I sailed with an
Architect buddy on the Thames River, had real Yorksire Pudding and
lovely beef dish [that couple were killed in a car accident several
years later.]
Yeah I could write a story about my ventures but all my references are gone, I’m doubtful I even have any pictures left.
Cheers Frank!!
Don
Good job Don and thanks for sharing these special memories with us.
f
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