Mensan Anne Rothwell, of Meltham, West Yorkshire has recently published a book describing her unusual travel experiences. The book is divided into many short pieces describing events which occurred in many countries, as she journeyed around the globe on a shoestring budget with husband Marven. What is perhaps more unusual about this story is that former librarian Anne, 69, and Marven, 88, only began ‘backpacking’ following their retirement.

Travel Perspectives – Fragments of My World is described by Anne in the book’s introduction:
‘Right from the cradle, it seems, I've been obsessed with foreign lands. All I ever wanted to do was travel and, even as a child, I wanted all the books I read to be set in far-off, exotic places. As I've grown older, my passion has grown ever stronger. But it wasn't until I was middle-aged and into my second marriage, to Marven, that I was able to indulge it. We started off by renting out our home for six months and setting off on a round the world trip, never knowing where things would lead us or where we'd lay our heads next. Any tourists we met were like us, though mostly young, looking to experience this wonderful world. This book just describes some of our experiences then and since, in the hope that I can pass on some of my enthusiasm for travel.’ 

An excerpt from the book about Anne’s travels through Kashmir:

As we stepped down from the bus in Srinagar, we realised that something was amiss. Even through our fatigue, we were aware of the subdued atmosphere, the quiet and darkness in what should have been a busy bus terminus. 

We soon discovered why. That morning, a terrorist leader had been captured by the police. To many of the local people, this man had been their hero and there was rebellion in the air. 

We were heading for Lake Nagin, further away and quieter than the popular Lake Dal. This should have taken us 15 minutes by road, but nothing was willing to move on the roads for fear of being stoned by the rebels. This meant going there by boat. 

At the edge of the lake, we stepped into a shikara, one of the local gondola-like boats. We weren't to appreciate their beauty and opulence until the light of day. We shivered as we settled into the cushions and wrapped ourselves in the blankets we'd been given. In a matter of hours, our surroundings had changed from the intense and heavy heat of Delhi to the autumnal chill of the Vale of Kashmir, 5000 feet above sea level. 

The most unsettling thing of all was the lack of electricity. The darkness was only broken here and there by the glow of a hurricane lamp. Our boat however, had no light. The boatman stood at the back with his pole and punted us off into the black unknown. There was no moonlight, no glow of any kind; just the silent, enveloping night, the lap of the water along the sides of the boat and the occasional distant howl of a dog. 

Suddenly, my stomach knotted as the boat lurched, followed by a scraping sound. We were brushing alongside another boat, feeling the proximity of an unknown being. 

At last, we drew up beside a houseboat and climbed up, stiff, cold and very tired. ’Namaste’, we joined our hands and bowed to the man who greeted us, before he led us to our room, putting down a lamp which glowed at the centre of its own small world. 

I had a hasty wash in the small basin, then felt, as well as heard, its emptying gurgle as it gushed on to my feet when I pulled the plug. Too tired even to laugh, I collapsed on the bed and closed my eyes. 

To order a copy of the book for £6.99 visit www.lulu.com.