MAKING NEW FRIENDS ON THE SILK ROAD

Travelling from Aktau in Kazakhstan to Urgench in Uzbekistan required a train change at Beyneu (“Follow Joanna on a Silk Road spectacular”, Sept 8). A soldier helped me to find passport control, where a woman checked that I had a visa and wished me a safe journey.

Back at the train, the attendant welcomed me and found someone to take my bag to my compartment, which was occupied by three women. They had lots of luggage and one had made her bed in my place.

If they were disappointed to see an elderly Englishman with a large holdall they didn’t show it. The woman in my place started to move to the upper bunk. I indicated that I was happy to use the top one but she insisted on moving, then helped to make up my bed.

One of my travelling companions spoke a little English, the other two none, but they looked after me during the journey, sharing their food and making sure I got a good exchange rate from the money-changers. It’s just one example of the friendliness and hospitality of the people I met on my trip along the Silk Road. JOHN THROUP WINS A £250 RAILBOOKERS HOLIDAY VOUCHER

with my sisters learning to swim and enjoying Cornish ice cream.

In my youth, it was my playground, hanging out at the trendy Golf café and skinny-dipping after dark.

In my mature years, I appreciate my beach more after the summer crowds have disappeared and the skies are moody, merging with granite seas.

This summer I spent a perfect day on Gylly with my three-year-old grandson, rediscovering the delights of rock pooling, building sandcastles and dipping toes in salty, cold water.

SARAH OWENS

huge reservoir, now so low it exposes the remnants of the village of West End, submerged 60 years ago.

The path plunges into a scented pinewood on the other side, meandering by a stream, emerging on to moorland clothed in heather of finest amethyst where big skies give way to curlews.

Enjoy a picnic from

Bettys of Harrogate: of Swiss onion quiche and a piggy cake with a flask of tea, on Nell’s rock. No better feeling and always deserted. BRIDGET MELLOR