The craft of travel writing.

Travel writing through the ages. No - I don't mean from the eighteenth century onwards, but rather the different way younger and older writers, men and women, approach the task of travel writing.

What's brought this on? Well, a while ago I read Trish Nicholson's Journey to Bhutan: Himalayan Trek in the Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon, and more recently I won Alessandro Gallenzi's book Inter Rail on Jenny Woolf's wonderful blog.

Maybe it's not entirely fair to compare them - Inter Rail is a novel; but the writer informs us that it is based on his journey around Europe as a young man. So I'm assuming he built on his meetings with some rather shady characters and developed that into a tale of derring-do, of drinking and meeting women and careering around in very fast cars with a man who is clearly a con man. What struck me, reading this, is his lack of reflection - he is too busy laughing to think that maybe not paying for a taxi might be funny once, but the driver may have a family to feed and his larks have consequences. I found myself thinking like a mother, wanting to know what he did for clean pants when his clothes were stolen.

Of course, I have missed the point - he's a young man. Behaving as young men do - and having terrific fun doing it. Sometimes I need reminding of that.

In contrast, Trish's trek in Bhutan was instantly recognisable. She paused to drink in the mountain air, to marvel at the mysteries of the culture, to tiptoe round the edges of Buddhism. Her descriptions are wonderful - for those of us unable make it to Bhutan she offers such clear descriptions of her travels that we feel we are following her footsteps. She is hugely respectful of everyone she meets, as aware of her impact on them and their way of life as she is on her own thoughts and processes. (She is also enviably fit. How does she bound up mountains like that?)

Not difficult for me to identify with her. We follow similar pathways, notice the same things. Her lovely book feels gloriously familiar to me.

So why think of them in the same blog? Because they are, in many ways, trying to do the same thing. To show me a place, and the people in it. Their starting points are different, but equally valid. Both have something to say about the writers themselves, though Trish's book tells us more about Bhutan while Alessandro reminded me of the glorious energy of young men.

And did they both tempt me to visit their chosen destinations? Of course they did. But, while my thoughts may be closer to Trish's, I have to admit I'm not immune to joining in the folly of the young (as those who have dipped into Hidden Tiger Raging Mountain already know!)

And you - do you need jolting out of the familiar from time to time?

Planning a trip, and a book?

Actually, I'm only going to talk about planning a trip. There is probably a metaphor in here somewhere for planning a book, but I'll leave that to you to work out. I need to make it clear I'm not talking about a holiday. Holidays have boundaries - in terms of where you will stay, what you hope to do, how you will get there. There is an expectation that you will come home, pick up life-pieces and carry on much as before. They are a glorious, and essential, interruption to the scheme of things.

These days, I go travelling. For me, that includes significant not-knowing. This allows for the unexpected, for changes of mind, for following that little road into the mountains just to see where it goes.

But not - I hasten to add, as my daughters read this - recklessness.

I begin, almost always, with the flights. I'm trying to think of a time when I booked flights and it was glorious weather here - and can't recall any. Prolonged rubbish weather tends to send me to the cheap-flight sites. Which is one reason why I'm off to Nepal in mid-March.

Well, why not?

It's beautiful, I have people I need to visit (for those who have read the book - Tika has a new baby! He told me he would not have another child until he could afford to pay for his education. So he must be doing well), and I want to do meander in the Annapurnas again while I still have knees. (Yes, my knees know how old I am.)

But my planning - well, I have flights. I know when I leave, and when I come home. I have a hotel for my first night in Kathmandu, and a flight the next day to Pokhara. I have somewhere to stay there.

And then what? There's a possibility that Tika can take me into Bhutan - off the beaten track in Bhutan. I can't organise that till I get there, as he has to pull strings to get me a visa. I'd love to go to Burma, but that might have to wait for another trip. And there are great swathes of south-western Nepal that I've never visited - transport is particularly 'interesting' there, but I'd like to see it. (Note to self, it's malarial down there.) I could always go back to Chitwan, and get in the water with the elephants. Tika has even suggested I go white water rafting. (Note to daughters, will check if I can be strapped in.)

So, it's back to my Lonely Planet - an up-to-date copy, as things change all the time. Check visa arrangements; make sure I still know how to say 'thank you' in Nepali. Drool over photographs of temples and markets, and suddenly wish I could go for six months.

Is this anything like writing a book? Looks a bit random, written like this. But I realise I approach a book with the same haphazard enthusiasm. I knuckle down and organise it eventually. And you - can you see parallels in the way you approach other important aspects of your life and how you settle to write?