What’s your hippie trail?

My hippie trail went from Dorchester (Boston) Massachusetts to Los Angeles, California in 1963 to San Francisco, California in the late 60's to Austin, Texas in 1972.

Now I am one old Bohemian.

Mine is not very exciting, hitchhiking to/from my Ohio University campus down in Athens, Ohio, in the early '70's. Not very exciting until I left my purse in someone's car, who responsibly sent it to the address on my driver's license, which was my parent's house. My very Catholic mom found my birth control pills in my purse. Then it got pretty exciting, not to mention creative, on my part, trying to explain that the pills weren't really mine......(wink emoji). Good thing the other 70's "stuff" was in my jacket pocket!

i was 21. I had just graduated from college. I had never been on a plane. I wanted to go to Europe for reasons I still can not explain. I was unable to find anyone to go with and was not ready to go on my own so I signed up for a "class" which I audited taught by a history teacher at a different university who took a group of students to Europe each spring. I did not know anyone on the trip. The timing was such I skipped my graduation ceremony to go to Europe.

It was marvelous. We went to the Netherlands, Belgium, France, and Germany but mostly Germany because our teacher was German. We took trains and had to manage our own luggage. We went to the UN and had a lecture by an official there. We hitchhiked in the black forest. We washed our clothes in the sink and hung them to dry outside on the balcony.

One day we were in Munch and had a free day. Four of us decided to take the train to Salzburg. I still remember thinking that I could do this on my own.

I married a couple years later and my husband and I took two three week trips to Europe which I planned before we had children. We stayed mostly in places with the bath down the hall. I still remember a place in Paris which had one red light bulb in the room and was over a restaurant where we could hear the cling clang of silver late into the night. In this place, you had to go outside the room and then outside the hotel up a narrow fire staircase to the bathroom. It was $8 a night including breakfast.

We always intended to return to European travel once our children were grown and fortunately have been able to do so. While I still wash laundry in the sink, I now insist on an in-suite bathroom!

I went to college in the San Francisco Bay Area in the late 1960’s, and was actively involved in peace marches and civil rights demonstrations. Most summers I spent working at a family camp in the Sierras for a respite, but I made the unfortunate choice to spend the summer of 1967 in Washington DC with friends who had positions as Congressional interns on “the Hill”. So I missed the Summer of Love in San Francisco, and experienced instead the political side of the Long Hot Summer of race riots.

This is for those too young to remember:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Summer_of_Love

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long,_hot_summer_of_1967

I spent 6 weeks of the summer of 1970 backpacking in the Sierras, including the whole 210 miles of the John Muir Trail from Yosemite up and over the top of Mount Whitney. I suppose that was my “hippie trail” equivalent.

“Traveling in a fried-out kombi, on a HIPPIE TRAIL, head full of zombie”

-Men at Work, 1981-

I was raised by two only children in the 60’s who had five children. My sister describes it as “five only children living in a youth hostel”. I spent my “vacations” backpacking through the Olympic Mountains in Washington State. That was enough for me.
The closest I’ve come as an adult is my husband and I did 250 miles of the Camino Frances in 2019 and the Portuguese Coastal Camino (from Porto) with the Spiritual Variant in May this year. Amazing experiences but I think I’m done with hostels. I am fully embracing the idea of a lobby bar.

I had three great aunts on my mother’s side of the family. All were military nurses. When they visited they would chat about where they’d been in Europe. They’d also been to Cuba.

Their exploits sounded so adventurous. In 1972 had the opportunity to join the then boyfriend on trip to Europe.

Distinctly remember looking out the window of the plane and seeing a windmill as we landed in the Netherlands. It was magical.

On that trip we went to Amsterdam, Brussels, Bremen, Interlaken, Geneva, London, Munich, Paris and Zurich. We met up with some college classmates in Paris and stayed at Hotel Claude Bernard. It had a Charade elevator ( watch the Cary Grant/Audrey Hepburn film to catch the reference). I remember I was reading The Exorcist and stayed up all night to finish it.

Everywhere we went was an eye opener. Other than yearly camping trips in Yosemite I’d not traveled.

Upon my return to the US I knew I’d make European travel a focal point in my life.

As far as a hippie trail I’d just drive up the 101 from San Jose to the City By The Bay and hang out in the Haight.

Power to the People, right on, right on.

My introduction to travel was about as far away from "hippie" as you can get. I was in Europe and Southeast Asia (Viet Nam duty) courtesy of the US Navy in the early to late 60s. It really did give me a big travel bug bite. Still traveling and have a trip to Berlin, Prague, Budapest and Vienna scheduled for this October.

I'd read Howl, On The Road and The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test by 16 or so.

I took profound inspiration from reading Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas at 17 or 18.

I read Food of The Gods at 19 or 20.

That was my sort of hippie trail. I've probably got enough anecdotal material for a post on Amsterdam later. Probably Ibiza and Barcelona too. I'm not sure if I was ever a hippie (born 1974, Scotland) and I wasn't following any trails, but some times were wild way back then.

"A hippie (or hippy) was a person, especially from the late 1960s and early 70s, who rejected the values and established institutions of the culture that emerged after WW2 ended, and went against accepted society turning to alternative lifestyles like communal living, psychedelic drugs and bright clothing styles."
WIKIPEDIA

Nope, never did that, I am about the same age as Rick, and like Rick, missed that era.

I am about the same age as Rick, and like Rick, missed that era

You didn't miss it. You were maybe doing other things. There were plenty of hippies around when Rick was out on these trails.

As a musical aside that probably nobody clicks on, I've been enjoying this performance of a Beatles' cover by Steve Hillage this week.

Steve Hillage was definitely still a hippie in 1977 as you'll see from this clip :) What with the trippy music he was making and his lifestyle, he continued to be a quintessential hippy for many years after, even after he cut his hair.

https://youtu.be/ZRx3y2GfsxA?si=IdcMjMyAP5MKkDVc

In college I did two short term study abroad trips (3.5 weeks in Italy and 2 weeks in Japan). After college I moved to Poland on my own for two years and taught English, and hit about 15 countries in that time. It was definitely low to the ground travel on a shoestring, though I'd consider it more "Grand Tour" than "Hippie Trail" as I got to see in person the great sites and works of Western civilization I'd studied during my high school and college years

Milo, thanks for starting this thread, it's so much fun, and a positive experience.
And, a lot of folks who aren't regular posters are feeling comfortable enough to post !
Thanks again!

Right after high school in 1976, my boyfriend and I set out in his $50 Mustang (plus some money in parts haha) packed with a tent and camping supplies. We drove up and down the East Coast and had a great old time until the money ran out. I still occasionally talk about those days that I lived in a tent.

I think I've mentioned it before. Summer of 70-71 saw a poster in Portland for a "Green Tortoise" hippy bus that was taking passengers down to Disneyland. Somehow talked mom into it and off I went. Couple in their 60s, a couple 30-40ish, rest early 20s (late teens :) ). Took Hywy 101 down the West Coast for a lot of the trip.

My favorite two memories:

1. Pulling over to the side of the road just before a bridge. All of the people in the bus (that cared to go) piling out, running down the side of the hill, tossing off their clothes and jumping into the small river. (It was the 60s even then)
2. Laying in the full length old claw footed bathtub (with water) going through the Redwoods on Hywy 101 with Bach blasting out of the speakers. I was reading in the tub.

Nice trip until the driver had a fight with another passenger/his-girl friend, parked the bus in a grocery parking lot south of San Francisco, tossed down what was left of the passengers fares, and left.

As those were the times we just looked at each other, divided up the money, and went our separate ways.

It was the summer of ’73 when my mother asked if I’d like to spend the summer of ’74 in Oahu babysitting a family friend’s three children for two weeks while she (Linda) visited her husband in China. I quickly said yes.
Babysitting was my high school job. Within one year I saved $500 and couldn’t wait for the day after my high school junior year ended so I could fly from Detroit to Honolulu. I returned two days before my senior year started.
While my friends went out most Fri and Sat nights I usually babysat. When I made my bed each morning which I hated having to do, I’d remind myself that I had something much bigger to look forward to.
My plane ticket which my parents bought cost the same amount of money I saved. I departed Detroit on a weekday morning on a United Airlines 747. This was back in the day when there was a lounge everyone could enjoy. It was my first commercial flight and I enjoyed the bumpy ride over the majestic Rocky Mountains as I peered down from my window seat in an almost empty plane. This 747 quickly filled up in LAX for the four-hour flight over the Pacific Ocean. The flight attendant handed out champagne glasses and filled my glass on this now noisy plane. It turned into a party and I managed to get a refill.
It had been a couple years since I’d seen Linda and her daughters Dawn (7) and Lisa (6). During this hiatus Linda gave birth to a boy, Michael who was 18 months old.
Linda’s husband was a pilot in the US Air Force and was on a six-month mission. Linda had been planning this R&R in early Aug for some time and was looking forward to visiting China. Because I arrived weeks earlier than when my babysitting responsibilities began, I had plenty of time to get reacquainted with Dawn and Lisa and meet Michael.
Linda, Dawn, Lisa and Michael greeted me at the airport with leis and hugs. The drive back to Linda’s house was unique as we drove on Likelike Hwy. Linda quickly corrected my pronunciation saying leaky leaky Hwy. We also passed by the USS Arizona Memorial and sugar cane fields.
I spent the last year dreaming about this trip but when I arrived at Linda’s house, I was homesick. I missed my mom the most, the person I argued with the most throughout my teenage years. Linda could tell I was feeling blue and suggested we spend the next day sightseeing.
After a good night’s sleep, the next morning I noticed a truck stopping in front of the houses and a young fit Polynesian man skillfully climbed up the palm trees and shook ripe coconuts until they fell to the ground. This was a city ordinance to avoid coconuts from falling on people’s heads. Coconuts are a staple one doesn’t have to buy.
Later that morning we piled into Linda’s station wagon to explore Pearl Harbor followed by a drive to Hanama Bay where I got lots of exercise chasing Michael. It was a spectacular area surrounded by mountains and the most scenic landscape I had ever seen. After an afternoon in the sun, we piled back into the car.
When we got back to Linda’s we were greeted by neighbors giving us shattering news. A neighborhood boy broke into Linda’s house and set the kitchen on fire. Fortunately, a neighbor saw him run out the back door and noticed flames. Most of the house was salvageable along with everything in it but there was remodeling that needed to be done so we stayed with a friend of Linda’s that night. Our hostess served fresh pineapple which I ate by myself because it was the best pineapple I had ever tasted.
The next day an estimate was made on the damage so Linda decided we would stay in a hotel until repairs were complete. Since Linda had three children and a guest she picked a resort. I couldn’t believe how nice it was and I was no longer homesick...

...From that moment on my bikini became my main particle of clothing. I got to know the people who worked there and ate lunch by the poolside. I was introduced to Blue Hawaii’s by a teenage employee and I made friends of all ages. It turned out to the be the most fun summer ever. While Linda ran errands during the day I taught the girls how to swim. Michael was a handful but we spent a lot of time on the beach or at the poolside. I bonded with the kids quickly.
One day when Linda was hanging out with her kids, I decided to enjoy a dip in the Pacific. As I waded in the shallow water, I felt a strong undercurrent taking me further out. I knew I needed to get closer to the shore so I swam inland remaining calm. I learned a valuable lesson, never walk out further than anyone else.
I had known Linda since my elementary school years. Linda was young enough to be my mother’s daughter yet she was a close friend. Linda was smart, funny and spontaneous.
Weeks later Linda’s house was remodeled so we moved back to the naval base where the sound of aircraft woke you early in the morning. Linda went to China returning with gifts for everyone. The kids and I did fine while she was gone and I got a glimpse of what motherhood was like. One morning as I moved clothes from the washer to the dryer, Michael dumped a bag of flour on the kitchen floor. Fortunately, that was the worst of his terrible twos that I experienced. I took charge of the cooking, shopping, cleaning, laundry, etc. No longer was I able to spend an hour getting ready for the day.
It was hard saying goodbye and Linda and I wrote each other often after I returned home. It was an adventure that I’ll always cherish. When you’re 17, it’s easy to meet people. So many of the locals had never left the island nor wanted to. I experienced the freedom and the responsibility of being-in-charge of three beautiful children whom I grew to love in a very short time.

I had some interesting times out in Amsterdam as a youth and young adult.

I'm pretty hazy on whether it was 1991 or 1992 I first went out to Amsterdam. First visit my friend and I turned up with nowhere to stay. Some "tourist information" place around The Dam whisked my friend and I out in a car to an elderly lady's place out in Amsterdam-West. It was fine. We had to share a bed in this lady's spare room, but she was cool. I remember joining her with a spliff to watch Eastenders one evening.

First visit, Katsu coffeeshop was a bit of a catalyst. I was aware of some music coming out of Amsterdam, the folks that were doing interesting things were a couple of guys known as Flemming and Abraxas. I think I'd read an interview or something that pointed me towards Katsu. I went there with my mate to smoke and hang out. I'd got talking to the folks that worked there and they knew Flemming and Abraxas. Sure enough, I met Jeroen (Flemming) later that afternoon when he came in and Jeff (Abraxas) later.

The Dutchies who post on here may remember what De Pijp used to be like in the 90's. It was definitely very hippy-friendly.

I'm not entirely sure, but squatting has a slightly different connotation in Europe than it may in The US. It's very much tied up in a lot of the same principles of the US 60's hippy movement, communal living, alternative beliefs and lifestyles; veganism, the animal rights movement, drug use, anarchy and other militant political views on the left in Europe. Loads of De Pijp was squatted. I had somewhere to crash in De Pijp with really sound Dutch and Scottish squatters pretty much right through the 90's into the 2000's.

Katsu was a social centre for a lot of the locals in De Pijp. I love my music and the rave scene was thriving in the early 90's. Katsu is where you'd go to pick up flyers for the parties, or more often than not, get invited to places through talking to folks. De Pijp was absolutely buzzing. You could walk up the stairs to a random apartment you could hear music blasting from on a Saturday night and every apartment in a three storey building would have a different DJ, sound system and handpainted UV backdrop. Jeroen and Jeff ran their own night in a semi-legit (?) venue just around Albert Cuyp. It was an afters place, I've been there until lunchtime Sunday and they were still going strong when I left.

Vondelpark at the weekends in summer could be amazing. Lots of the folks from De Pijp would head there on a nice day. Sometimes a massive drum circle would get going. I remember one time in particular doing a load of mushrooms. At that time in the 90's "smart shops" were popping up in Amsterdam selling anything that was just about legal enough to get away with in NL. I'd got myself a healthy takeout of some sort of dried psylocibin affair and went up to Vondelpark with a couple of pals. I've been involved in drum circles a few places, but this was on another level. I've found that it's easy to get a go on someone else's drum, or for them to offer a spare drum if you show interest. On a big helping of mushrooms it was a transcendental experience. Must have easy been 100+ drums. When you're right on top of a rhythm that everyone else is playing, and it's this huge organic mass of sound slipping and sliding, it's something else.

I remember the same evening walking down from Vondelpark to see what the craic was at Leidseplein. The whole city; the trams, the bikes, the people, was still throbbing and moving in time to the drum circle I'd been listening to for the last eight hours :)

I have a ton of other background on Amsterdam but I'm running out of room. Might post again if this is in the right vein.

Thank you all so much for your replies thus far. They are so great to read! Keep them coming! They will hold us all over until the publication of Rick’s book!

Rick is a year younger than me. Hippies were older and dying (figuratively) out at that point. Crunchy granola was in. I traveled, but there was no hippie trail. I did get to Haight Asbury in 1975 to see it. Remnants so I had no hippie travels.

It's an interesting question. Was the hippy movement dead by 1976 when Rick was out? I'm obviously younger, but I don't think so. Certainly the Deadhead movement flourished as an example, even though diluted. Lots of those folks continued to carry on a hippy ideal right through the 70's and 80's. Those routes up through India and the east were popular with lots of folks from Europe as well as the US.

Just because hippies weren't on TV with flowers in their hair in The Haight, doesn't mean that the movement was dead.

Mr Nice by Howard Marks is worth a read (with a pinch of salt) too. Some of the earlier chapters cover these routes.

If I get round to posting about Amsterdam again, I might mention some of its counterculture history. There were certainly still some old heads around on the scene when I was there in the 90's.

I think that the "hippie" era ended in the very early 70's. By 1976, it was long gone.

But I have really enjoyed reading the Hippies' and Post-Hippies' stories.

The closest thing to my hippie trail was a trip with friends at the end of a semester abroad in France in 1981. We had our Eurailpasses and started in Paris, making our way through Germany and down to Italy, on the $20 a day plan.
By the time we got to Rome, i couldn't bear wearing the one skirt i brought anymore - i thought it was filthy. My friend margaret thought it looked better than hers, so we switched! Sometimes anything different is better. We traveled from city to city in Italy and never made reservations - just would walk from the train station looking for Pensiones, and would ask the rate when we got there. I remember a big 'must-have' in Rome was a dessert called Tartufo which you had to get in Piazza Navona - this was passed along by other foreign students who had been there. Then we made our way by train down to Brindisi to get the overnight ferry to Greece. The eurailpass only covered the deck so we sat outside all night, talking and listening to a boy playing guitar. When we got to Greece, we headed out to the island of Spetses, because we had all been reading a novel that was set there. We stayed in a little guesthouse that was $8/ night. In the morning we would take a boat to one of the beaches, which were beautiful. Then a siesta and dinner, followed by staying out very very late..... I'll always remember that trip!

In another ever popular musical interlude;

Even if the consensus is on RSE that neither Rick nor I could be hippies any time past an arbitrary point in the late 60's or early 70's (even though Rick was blazing chillums in Nepal and I was tripping out my box playing in a drum circle), The Steve Miller Band - Fly Like an Eagle is surely evidence of the genus hippy in 1976 at least?

In its lyrical sentiment and instrumentation it's one of the finest examples of American psychedelia. In all its Kodachrome-lens-flare hazy 70's glory, and it could easy have been Rick's soundtrack around the campfire in Nepal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WuXwSyahgW4

"I think that the "hippie" era ended in the very early 70's. By 1976, it was long gone."

Naah. It just got less "newsworthy". It was still around for quite a while if you knew where to look.

Definitely. Just because Walter Cronkite wasn't telling you about hippies anymore it doesn't mean they didn't exist. I know how fleeting the "real" Haight Ashbury was. Charlie Manson and Sharon Tate were the nail in the coffin of the hippy movement in the mainstream. Lots of folks carried those ideals way forward though.

Like I said, I've never been a hippy, but I've definitely met lots of people I'd call hippies over the years, often on the squat scene. The white folks with dreads in Amsterdam were definitely hippies in a lot of cases. There were folks from the Provo movement still around in the 90's that had been freaks since the 60's. Amsterdam was (is?) more of a freak town than a hippy town, thinking about it, if you want to make that distinction.

Talking of haircuts, I soon got to learn that the folks in Barcelona that had what I called "3-in-1 haircuts" were the folks that were hip. Straight cut bangs at the front, shaved or undercut at the sides, mullet at the back. Barcelona "crusty" (hippy) standard.

Even in London in the 2000's, I was around a few hippies. I can think of someone, a 6'6" Irishman with a shaved head on the top and dreads down to his arse, a former colleague and friend that I need to get back in touch with. Many in South London would know him just from that description and his former prominent position on the squat scene. He's always been able to take being called "a big hippy c-word" in a way that probably doesn't translate that well to American English from a Scottish and Irish person having a laugh.

While stranded at the local grocer last Friday, I stumbled onto a "Rolling Stone" Grateful Dead Collecters Edition. Couldn't resist - and much to my surprise, according to the publication, Walter Cronkite attended two Dead concerts (not while on assignment). Keep on Truckin', Walt!

My travels to England in late winter of 1969 thru the following winter netted a Blind Faith concert in Hyde Park followed by the Stones (first Mick Taylor public performance), a job a One Stop Records, a flat in Notting Hill Gate (W11) and travels throughout the UK and Ireland. Notting Hill Gate was sorta the Haight Ashbury of London at the time, and my RS moniker comes from a movie filmed two years earlier not far from my residence. If only I had driven that Rolls and had a chance at that Jeff Beck guitar neck.

a job at One Stop Records

Cool! I Googled and came up with this link of people sharing their memories of One Stop Records. It sounds like it was the place to be. https://www.britishrecordshoparchive.org/shops/one-stop-records--tapes/

I remember Soho in the 90's when it was full of record shops. Friday afternoon in Blackmarket Records when all the DJs were in buying their records for the weekend. Something nice would come on the sound system and all the hands would go up for a copy to be added to their pile.

a flat in Notting Hill Gate

Very cool. A whole different place to what it is now, with the squats and the Windrush Generation. I remember someone years ago telling me about meeting Lemmy from Hawkwind / Motorhead out there drinking in his local. He got invited back to Lemmy's place and the session continued for a day or two afterwards. I've always been more of an east London person. My first experience of Hackney, where I live now, was also through the squat scene. A girl I knew from school, her older brother lived in a squat in Anton Street and we came down to visit in late 1990 or early 1991. It was off the scale back then.

Aye.
There was a Mac Fisheries market at the top of the tube stairs, a Watneys's pub on the corner of Portobello Road, and a number of emerging bands of that era were my neighbors - Quintessence had a minor hit with "Getting It Straight In Notting Hill Gate:". The little lady pictured on the cover of the second East of Eden album was also my neighbor.
Klooks Kleek was happening - Blossom Toes, Mighty Baby, etc and Jethro Tull had a residency at the Marquee Club Oddly Blodwyn Pig replaced Jethro Tull when their stint ended - Mick Abraham's band after he left Tull. Roundhouse at Chalk Farm was my favorite spot although the sound was a little "bright" in there.
The day the Stones played Hyde Park, The Who played Royal Albert Hall. Opening act Chuck Berry and his back-up band was Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac (they played their own set prior to Chuck Berry's appearance).. It was a musical paradise.
The Isle of Wight Festival happened a week or so after Woodstock. This was Dylan's first post motorbike accident performance.
The line-up was delightful.( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isle_of_Wight_Festival_1969)
That experience (train, ferry ride to Isle of Wight - and return) was pretty close to a "hippie trail".

That's all absolutely fascinating. It's easy to forget that "swinging London" that shaped popular culture around the world at that time was experienced first hand by a relatively tiny handful of people. It's good to hear about someone who was around with a job in a Soho record shop and a flat in the hippest neighbourhood in '69 and '70.

I find it interesting how we see a different side of people we have come to know in a travel time mode. Very interesting.

And fun to hear of the exploits in Hackney. I wonder if anybody thinks that Camden is a hotbed of modern hippies, or if it is all show and paint to attract punters and tourists....

And fun to hear of the exploits in Hackney. I wonder if anybody thinks that Camden is a hotbed of modern hippies, or if it is all show and paint to attract punters and tourists....

Yes Hackney was kinda nuts in the early 90's. I hadn't yet turned 17 the first time I came down on the Scottish Citylink bus from Hamilton.

Sandringham Road, just round the corner from Anton Street, was known as "The Frontline". Almost all the big Victorian houses were squatted. Street drug dealing was rife. There was an amazing party scene though. Much the same as what I talked about in De Pijp and Albert Cuyp, you could walk the street just listening for music and walk right up to a random house for the party. Techno and jungle rave in one house, roots and dub reggae in another, dancehall reggae in the next and an anarchist punk band playing in the living room next door. In the railway arches in Andre Street, there was usually two or three full blown illegal rave venues that would run all weekend. Not to mention warehouses in Hackney Wick or abandoned 60's low rise office blocks in Hoxton. What surprised me coming from Scotland was that the police seemed to do absolutely nothing. I don't know what it was, policy or whatever, but you could get away with absolute murder in Hackney in the 90's (hopefully not literally but there was of course the "murder mile" too).

Camden, I didn't have a ton of contact with in the 90's. It is more of a "rock" town whereas I was into the raves, and that centred around Hackney. I've been in a few of the pubs that are well known, but that was later when the mainstream music press was already writing about the scene, bands were having chart hits and it was somewhat diluted.

My line manager in my last job grew up in Camden. He is quite a cool bloke, played trombone in the horn section on quite a few records I knew as it turned out. From my post-2008 visits, after I'd moved to London, I christened Camden "Goth Blackpool". The High Street between the tube station and the market reminded me of the front at Blackpool, just a bit more patchouli oil. That tickled my old boss, since his parents both came from Blackpool. I have faith that there's still cool people running nice little creative businesses at Camden Market, but it is quite geared towards the tourist and casual visitor. Scratch the surface a little and you might find different.

My hippie trail was similar to Rick's with some additions. It was 1974 and I was very young. My older brother was going to go to Bali with a friend and I tagged along although my covert plan was to derail us and go to Europe. We flew into Belgrad Yugoslavia, prior to the breakup of that country. It was in February so cold and snowy. We traveled on to southern Greece for some sun. Then on to Cyprus which was on the brink of war unbeknownst to us. We then went to Beruit and tried to enter Iraq because we wanted to visit Baghdad. Well, they laughed at the two of us with our backpacks and said NO. So, we then embarked on the more well-traveled hippie trail beginning in Istanbul. We stayed near the famous Puddingshop that Rick talks about and hung about there meeting lots of young travelers including some New Zealanders that were traveling in a recommissioned red double decked bus. We then traveled by train, local buses etc through Turkey; Iran stayed in Meshad a holy city for pilgrims and Tehran; on to Afghanistan stayed in Herat, Kabul and Kandahar; traveled through the Khyber Pass on local bus into Pakistan where we rented rope beds that they pull out into the street at night for you to sleep on (I couldn't do this now for sure); India stayed in Deli and then went up to Nepal and stayed in Katmandu. I believe Rick stopped at this point, but we went on to Thailand and eventually to Bali. After several months of travel in middle/far east we finally made it back to Europe. We traveled around for a few months enjoying the modern comforts but I unexpectedly savored and to this day savor those memories of the middle east the most. At times I realized we were in dicey areas, but I guess with my big brother (older and also 6+ feet tall) and we behaved in a conservative manner, I felt ok. We were both politically uninformed which was likely foolish for this type of travel, but then again, we went places some of which we can't safely do now, and I am so happy to have those unique memories.
Thank you for your post it brought up lots of great memories.

Here's a little background on the Spanish (Catalan and Basque) Mullet that I mentioned further up the thread.

It's a question many foreigners new to Spain find themselves pondering: what's with the ubiquitous mullet?

For much of the world, this "business at the front, party at the back" hairdo has become a fondly remembered if often ridiculed relic of the 1980s.

But here in Spain, the mullet lives on in full, unapologetic glory. From spotty teenagers to middle-aged men, the mullet’s signature close-cropped front and sides and long back walks the streets of cities right across the country.

Turns out, it’s more than a hairstyle. It’s a way of life.

Like elsewhere around the planet, the ‘do was inspired by the heady 70s and 80s punk rock era that swept the US and UK. The fast, hard-edged music and political, antiestablishment lyrics found strong support in northern Spain, particularly among the politically engaged populace of the Basque Country, which had visibly and at times violently opposed the 36-year dictatorship of General Francisco Franco.

"As Spain transitioned to democracy in the late 1970s, the Basque separatists continued their aggressive push for independence, birthing the Kale Borroka or Urban Fight, a group of 16-25 year olds intent on taking back their country via urban guerrilla actions.
Many of these antiestablishment young nationalists proudly sported mullets. To some here, the hairdo is even known as the “Kale Borroka style”.

El Pais, 2014

Carol's post is fascinating. Probably giving Rick a run for his money if it was in long form.

I'd still like to do a version of this. Maybe Karachi to Tehran to Istanbul overland (or Izmir in my case; I could get a place to crash in Izmir no problem through folks I know). With a wee bit of planning getting the visas straight it's still do-able if you mind your p's&q's out there. I've met plenty of Pakistani folks over the years, one of my best friends for years is Persian descent and I know a ton of Turks from London. Basing it on meeting good folks from these areas, I think I'd do alright. From what I know, Turkey, and to some extent Iran, are fairly secular amongst ordinary folks. Not too many nuts about religion and culture that would cause you a problem in the population. It's just your Donald* really.

I'm a bit less than fit and a bit poor to think about doing this really, but maybe others can tell me it would be a stupid idea these days anyway.

edit:
*Donald Duck, luck

My so-called hippie trail started in June 1971 at 21, the initial travel adventure , experience, the first time away from home, flying from OAK to London Gatwick on a charter flight. RS is 6 years younger than I.

When he did his "Hippy Trail' trip , I had completed my 3rd trip in 1977, this time to Paris (first time on Air France...what a contrast), LAX to CDG, again, solo, and not be missed Fontainebleau, as well as Kiel, also the first time.

I was not so interested in the values per say back then, regardless of differences in interpretation and definition. Chronologically, one can say I was right in the middle of the hippy era having graduated from high school in June 1967, the famous "summer of love".

By the fall of 1969 as a junior in college, I began to see that a trip to Europe, however farfetched or ridiculous, was financially possible and linguistically doable, above all, in Germany. It was to be a budget solo 12 week trip staying in hostels, using the Eurail Student 2nd class , 2 month pass, and carrying a good amount of AmEx traveler's checks. Never lost any of them or had them picked.

I ended up going to northern Sweden, Holland, England, Austria (Vienna) , and Germany with most of the weeks spent there , ie North Germany, (Hamburg, Bremen, Lübeck , Lüneburg, but missed Kiel , also going to (west) Berlin, parts of the Rhineland, and of course, Munich.

No doubt I was a green horn, awkward, and all that. You do adapt or learn as a solo traveler, or you had better learn was my view. This trip totally changed my life perspective by exposing to a "whole different world out there."

I knew that within 2 years I had to get back once more schooling was completed. That was my focus upon return. This 12 week solo trip whetted my appetite , was the driving force for doing trip # 2, this time SFO to Paris Orly.

Carol rocks!

I think you guys were lucky, God watching over children and... all. :)

But what a trip...

By the time I was out of high school, 1974, hippie-ness was just a fashion thing, and a caricature. Even mainstream politicians had long hair; styled shag cuts being the popular option. By 1976, we were transitioning to the equally awkward disco era, with uncomfortable three-piece suits, good grooming, and pretending to be sophisticated (. . . what's your sign, sweetheart?). That passed quickly, thankfully. After college I took my first trip solo, the UK and Ireland with a rail pass, backpack, and a Let's Go Guide. Still hippie influenced, but not wanting to sleep in train stations.

The way I look at the RS travel model, is, I think he took that '60s student budget-travel mindset, and translated it for middle-aged middle-class Americans, who were unaware that you could travel in Europe comfortably, yet economically, with a little bit of effort.

Here is my hippie trip. It was the summer of 1975. I turned 16 that April. I was living in Eugene Oregon.
My best friend moved with his family across the country to Jamestown New York. His family was in the restaurant business and his Dad was opening a restaurant called Sambos restaurant in Jamestown that summer. (If your over 60 you should know what a Sambos was. For those under sixty a Sambos is like a Dennys.
I talked my parents into letting me go visit him if I paid for everything. My parents said that I could go thinking that I wouldn't save enough to go. I was only 16 at the time. And my only income was as a dishwasher at Sambos in Eugene. I was making a whopping $1.20 an hour in 1975. So a plane ticket back then could be in the $1000 range if I remember correctly. So there's a slim to no chance I am going to come up with the money.
Well in the summer of 75 was right after the first big gas shortages happened. So the national bus companies Greyhound and Trails way had a special that summer. The deal was you could go on unlimited rides for 30 days for something like $99 dollars.
So I went to the bus station and got all the bus schedules I could. Remember there is no internet or even computers at this time. Everything was printed. So I figure out that I can cross the country and get from Eugene Oregon to Jamestown New York in about three and a half days. This is riding and sleeping on the bus. I couldn't afford a motel and at 16 I didn't even know how to rent a motel room. Again this is 1975, there are no debit cards and the only people that had credit cards weren't traveling by bus if you know what I mean.
So my parents reluctantly say I can go. Remember this was a time when we walked to school by ourselves in the first grade. Would I let my 16 year old son make this trip today? He'll no!
But this is about the hippie times our country was going through at the time. It was the summer of 75. The Vietnam War just ended. The draft ended. Lot's of drugs were tolerated, especially in a town like Eugene. Disco was just starting and the #1 movie that summer was Jaws.
So I head out of Eugene in late July with maybe $200 dollars stuck down the front of my pants. A Rick Steves moneybelt wasn'tavailablei n 75. I have to admit I was a little scared being by myself for really the first time in my life. But I'm part of the peace, love and understanding generation, what could happen. A lot did happen.
I met some people on the bus that I will always remember. I met a man just getting out of the service. He told me a little about Vietnam, he was there when it was ending. Thats weird 50 years later the things you remember.
I met the hottest Swedish girl that was probably 18 but as a 16 year old she was a goddess. And no nothing happened.
I arrived in downtown Chicago and a hot muggy afternoon for a three hour layover to my next bus. This is when I had my first Dorothy we're not in Kansas anymore. I called my mom and the first words out of my mouth was "Don’t come to Chicago!" She thought it was cute and continues to bring it up at Christmas conversations.
So I finally arrive at my friend's house. He was actually living with his older sister and other Sambo employees that were opening a new Sambos in Jamestown. I think I forgot to mention that to my parents. They thought I was staying at his parents house, not a house with six under 20's. I also found out that the drinking age was 18 in New York in 75 so that was a whole new experience.
I also got to see the Rolling Stones in Buffalo.
So sort of a coming to age story with some hippie stops thrown in.
On my way home at a stop in Omaha i run into a classmate at the Omaha Central Train station that is also the bus station. He was from a divorced family and his dad lived there.
What are the odds of that happening two 16 teenagers riding the same bus?
That trip back lasted a couple of extra days but I'm out of room now.
Peace and love.

In 1975 (even earlier) the legal drinking age for beer consumption in (west) Germany was 16. I saw that in the 1971 trip while hanging around with German kids I got know in the various hostels.

Yeah, "Don’t come to Chicago!"

Got out of the military in '79. Took the bus from Charleston SC (East Coast) to Portland OR (West Coast). Was quite a trip.

Went through Chicago.

Would agree... then.