train about to leave for Milan. We jumped on, enjoying the random nature of our journey. We never did get to Vienna.

We had made a conscious decision to travel without guidebooks or train timetables, and to rely instead on personal recommendations and where the mood took us. When we arrived at stations, we’d gaze up at the departures board. If the train we had intended to take didn’t leave for hours, we simply caught another

You Are Never Too Old!

Before the era of low-cost flights, the cheapest way of getting to Greece was by train. A month’s Inter-Rail ticket only costs ?33, and you had to be under 26 to buy one. Fortunately for us, there’s now no age limit, and youth hostels make no stipulation about “youth”. So we decided, in the spirit of ’73, that we’d stay in hostels where possible, although most of the ones we’d been to before had closed down. We also decided that while our quest was to reach Ios, we wouldn’t stick to the same route as last time, through West Germany and Yugoslavia. (After all, they no longer exist.)

When we arrived at Calais, I asked the woman at the information desk if she could suggest an itinerary to Austria. She started tapping at her computer asking me where abouts we wished to go,’ Vienna' I replied (as I speak French ... but obviously not that well). As we set off, clutching our printed timetable, we realised we’d been directed to Vienne in France, not Vienna. But we thought we might as well go there anyway. Vienne, near Lyons, turned out to be wonderful. There happened to be a rock concert that night, so we had a musical accompaniment as we wandered about.

The next day, we set off again for Vienna. We got as far as Lausanne when a woman suggested we stop off at Montreaux. There was a youth hostel there, so we thought we’d try it out. It turned out to be right on the shores of Lake Geneva, and within minutes Jane and I were swimming in the lake, hardly believing our luck. It felt a bit strange sharing a dormitory with four young Swiss girls, but they were friendly enough. In the morning, we started out for Vienna yet again. When we reached the station, however, we found there was a train about to leave for Milan. We jumped on, enjoying the random nature of our journey. We never did get to Vienna.

We had made a conscious decision to travel without guidebooks or train timetables, and to rely instead on personal recommendations and where the mood took us. When we arrived at stations, we’d gaze up at the departures board. If the train we had intended to take didn’t leave for hours, we simply caught another

down. We also decided that while our quest was to reach Ios, we wouldn’t stick to the same route as last time, through West Germany and Yugoslavia. (After all, they no longer exist.)

When we arrived at Calais, I asked the woman at the information desk if she could suggest an itinerary to Austria. She started tapping at her computer asking me where abouts we wished to go,’ Vienna' I replied (as I speak French ... but obviously not that well). As we set off, clutching our printed timetable, we realised we’d been directed to Vienne in France, not Vienna. But we thought we might as well go there anyway. Vienne, near Lyons, turned out to be wonderful. There happened to be a rock concert that night, so we had a musical accompaniment as we wandered about.

The next day, we set off again for Vienna. We got as far as Lausanne when a woman suggested we stop off at Montreaux. There was a youth hostel there, so we thought we’d try it out. It turned out to be right on the shores of Lake Geneva, and within minutes Jane and I were swimming in the lake, hardly believing our luck. It felt a bit strange sharing a dormitory with four young Swiss girls, but they were friendly enough. In the morning, we started out for Vienna yet again. When we reached the station, however, we found there was a train about to leave for Milan. We jumped on, enjoying the random nature of our journey. We never did get to Vienna.

We had made a conscious decision to travel without guidebooks or train timetables, and to rely instead on personal recommendations and where the mood took us. When we arrived at stations, we’d gaze up at the departures board. If the train we had intended to take didn’t leave for hours, we simply caught another

not that well). As we set off, clutching our printed timetable, we realised we’d been directed to Vienne in France, not Vienna. But we thought we might as well go there anyway. Vienne, near Lyons, turned out to be wonderful. There happened to be a rock concert that night, so we had a musical accompaniment as we wandered about.

The next day, we set off again for Vienna. We got as far as Lausanne when a woman suggested we stop off at Montreaux. There was a youth hostel there, so we thought we’d try it out. It turned out to be right on the shores of Lake Geneva, and within minutes Jane and I were swimming in the lake, hardly believing our luck. It felt a bit strange sharing a dormitory with four young Swiss girls, but they were friendly enough. In the morning, we started out for Vienna yet again. When we reached the station, however, we found there was a train about to leave for Milan. We jumped on, enjoying the random nature of our journey. We never did get to Vienna.

We had made a conscious decision to travel without guidebooks or train timetables, and to rely instead on personal recommendations and where the mood took us. When we arrived at stations, we’d gaze up at the departures board. If the train we had intended to take didn’t leave for hours, we simply caught another

off at Montreaux. There was a youth hostel there, so we thought we’d try it out. It turned out to be right on the shores of Lake Geneva, and within minutes Jane and I were swimming in the lake, hardly believing our luck. It felt a bit strange sharing a dormitory with four young Swiss girls, but they were friendly enough. In the morning, we started out for Vienna yet again. When we reached the station, however, we found there was a train about to leave for Milan. We jumped on, enjoying the random nature of our journey. We never did get to Vienna.

We had made a conscious decision to travel without guidebooks or train timetables, and to rely instead on personal recommendations and where the mood took us. When we arrived at stations, we’d gaze up at the departures board. If the train we had intended to take didn’t leave for hours, we simply caught another

train about to leave for Milan. We jumped on, enjoying the random nature of our journey. We never did get to Vienna.

We had made a conscious decision to travel without guidebooks or train timetables, and to rely instead on personal recommendations and where the mood took us. When we arrived at stations, we’d gaze up at the departures board. If the train we had intended to take didn’t leave for hours, we simply caught another one that took our fancy. So, in a haphazard fashion, we worked our way southeast.

We took the ferry from Italy to Greece — it was rather classy, with escalators and a swimming pool — and another from Piraeus to Ios, which certainly wasn’t. Hordes of us raced on board to stake our claim to the benches, and the deck was heaving with people and their trolley suitcases. Hardly anyone was travelling with rucksacks. I found it impossible to sleep. I’d moved so far out of my comfort zone.

Just after dawn, we arrived. Last time, we’d ignored the people holding signs saying “Rooms to let”. Now we were only too grateful for them, and struck lucky. Our hotel was exceptional, and cost us each only ?14 a night.

As part of our teenage pilgrimage, we took a bus up through the village towards Mylopotas beach. In 1973, there were no cars on Ios. Donkey was the main form of transport. According to the journal nowadays nobody is allowed to camp on the beach, so we had a quick swim, then went for a beer.

Ios is now known as a party island, and we expected it to be completely spoilt. But in spite of signs entreating you to “Eat, Drink and Be Naughty”, or to drink 100 shots in 100 minutes, it’s still beautiful. It has more buildings, but they’re still in the traditional whitewashed cube style, draped with bougainvillea. If you walk past the port, you can leave behind the noise of cars and hear goats with bells round their necks and the views are spectacular. As we climbed up the old donkey track to the main village for supper, the streets were filling up. Everyone looked under 25, and we felt as if we’d gate crashed a student party. But we couldn’t believe how friendly our fellow drinkers were, inviting us to