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became our favorite city in England (I can say “city” here because, you guessed it: Oxford has a university). The Oxford city council has chosen to keep its city pedestrian and cyclist friendly. Lacking the frenzied pace of London, Oxford can be easily managed on foot, or more importantly to us, by bicycle. For example, the Museum of the History of Science, Gutenberg’s Bible, Martyr’s Memorial, and many of Oxford’s colleges are all easily accessible on foot from the market square.
    One of the most popular pastimes in Oxford is punting, which has nothing to do with kicking a pigskin on fourth down. A punt is not too dissimilar from a canoe, but with its flat bottom, it’s much more stable, and it’s propelled by using a pole to push off of the bottom of the river. Our punting experience had us starting just past Christ Church Meadow in the Botanical Gardens, where we looked for hobbits near Tolkien’s Tree named for the famed author who received much of his inspiration there. Despite its popularity, once past the immediate vicinity of the pier and rental shop, punting is a quiet, rural experience.
    We also found Oxford almost impossible to leave. Cycling out of town, every time we turned around to see a sign posting how many miles back, it read the same thing.
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    Katrina’s Journal, June 13
    â€¦ After riding for about ten miles, we realized we’d practically gone in a circle. Great. That was but the first wrong turn. Next, after riding for about three or four miles, we found the road we were looking for. This road was supposed to take us several miles down to a bridge that crossed a small river, and shortly after crossing the bridge, we would find our campsite. After a long time of riding downhill, Mom said something like, “Sometimes I have this strange feeling that this road is just a path to someone’s farm.” Just a tiny bit after she said that, we came to a dead end. In front of us was a river, only about twenty feet wide. But where was the bridge? On the other side of the river was a pub, with a deck and tables and chairs and people and plenty of boats. On our side, there were no boats. We called to people on the other side and begged them to come and get us in a boat, but they didn’t own the boats .
    Our map showed a bridge where we were standing, but if there was a bridge, it was doing a great job of hiding. Talking to the locals who were lurking on the other side confirmed that there used to be a bridge, but the owners of the land nearby didn’t like the through traffic and, well, somehow the bridge had been damaged beyond repair and torn down.
    We had no choice but to go back and take the long way around. About three hours and more than twenty miles later we were on the other side of the river, and only twenty yards farther down the road.
    Some members of my family have the irritating quality of seeing the humor and adventure in situations like the bridge being out. Later that night as we pitched the tent, Jordan and I plotted against Team Estrogen for their high spirits and good nature. We snuck another two pieces of soap that had been squished into one bar into September’s soap case.
    A few days later we arrived in Salisbury to see our first UNESCO (United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization) World Heritage site: Stonehenge.
    The only thing I knew about Stonehenge was from the movie This Is Spinal Tap , so we got the obligatory headphones for the self-guided tour. We learned that Stonehenge was already ancient history when the Romans ruled England and that the stone pillars were built by … nobody really knows.
    We would have good and bad experiences with UNESCO sites as our year unfolded, but Stonehenge reminded us of what we already knew; Katrina and Jordan experienced culture and history much differently than September and I did.
    We walked along the path encircling the stone columns that have been enshrined on