In the eternal words of Michael Jackson, “This is it”. The death defying, mid-life crisis averting, character building global adventure I always hoped would happen some day. As departure time draws ever closer, I am becoming more excitable than an unmedicated toddler with ADHD in a ball pond on Christmas morning in Disneyland. A few days from now I will quit my job to embark upon a three year career break to savour the fruits of the world. So there!
This is the overall plan. First, a seven month stint sailing around the world on a tall ship, stopping off at a fine array of exotic and far flung ports and islands along the way. Poor me. Then after that, a spell of working in Australia and Japan to top up the pale and sickly bank balance before I undertake a 15,000 mile journey back to Blighty on my pushbike. And yes, we will just see about that one. Pedalling half way around the world might get a bit boring after a while. Indeed, whether I stick to this plan in any shape or form remains to be seen. For all I know I might end up back in London after a month, haggard by the lack of trashy television and home comforts at sea, but for now I hope my stomach will at least match the size of my eyes.
I will be joining the ship on Saturday with forty others to participate in the voyage. I almost took my arrival on board the vessel this weekend for granted until recent events left matters somewhat in the air (note the witty and creative pun there). Curious unprecedented incidents never fail to amuse me sometimes. An evident insurance job by a recently bankrupted Iceland to trigger a volcano to blow its top and entirely destroy the nation sadly backfired last Thursday. The ash and smoke simply blew the other way leaving Iceland blissfully untouched, and instead crippling practically every other European nation of whom, somewhat ironically, practically all (except the really poor ones) are owed substantial amounts of cash in some shape or form by the seismically active Arctic island nation. What only last week was a little known phenomenon, probably sat gathering dust somewhere in a British Airways’ flight risk assessment file last opened in the late 1980s, suddenly became an everyday media catchphrase and known throughout the world within minutes. Planes don’t like ash. And no-one is going anywhere.
Having been stranded in Jersey, I watched Sky News provide Orwellian coverage of the evil and abominable (yet invisible) ash cloud closing in on Britain. It was looking increasingly likely that even after I got back to London I would remain haplessly stranded in Blighty as my getaway date edged ever nearer. People trembled in fear at the quiet skies above London, quivered before unusually glorious sunsets and trembled at the strange dust gathering overnight on their car windscreens. Ryanair had cancelled all of its flights. This really was the first sign of the Apocalypse.
By Monday it was looking increasingly certain that my plane wouldn’t be going anywhere on Saturday and after somehow accidentally headbutting a desk at work, bloodying my mouth and chipping my tooth, what started as a jubilant “final Monday in three years” ended with conditions ripe for a childish tantrum of epic proportions. Thankfully the following day the blood pressure eased a bit. The airlines were evidently losing so much money that the authorities suddenly came to the realisation that ash doesn’t actually harm planes after all. Phew! Although I’m glad I have a few days before I have to fly to see if this is actually true in practice.
Heaps of people have asked if they can track where I am while at sea. A full list of the ports of call, some photos of the ship (called the Picton Castle) and its crew along with that all important map allowing you to pinpoint the exact position of the ship at any point in time can be found on the ship’s website: http://www.picton-castle.com. I will of course be providing little snippety updates to you when I am in port and within earshot of that wonder known as the internet. But in case I disappear for weeks on end, the captain of the vessel will be writing posts via the ship’s satellite link which sadly us mere mortals will not have access to at sea.
I’m not really an experienced sailor. In fact, I have been sailing only twice in my life. And even then, the first time I was drunk, and the second my mismanagement of the mainsail led to the boat capsizing and almost sinking a couple of miles from land. The observed conclusion from these two events, brought to my attention by a very insightful friend, was that as long as I was drunk, I wouldn’t mess things up. I’d like to think it better to rely on my inner resolve and strength of character to get me through those tough days voyaging across some of the most remote ocean passages on earth. But failing that, that bottle of rum under my bed should do the trick.
The sensation of being further away from civilisation than I ever thought possible is something I am perhaps looking forward to the most. No cars, no computers, no people, no land. Not even a London Underground. Add into the mix exploring barely inhabited remote Pacific atolls, embracing tribal island cultures and, most importantly, drinking cocktails in a hammock in front of a sunset, and we have a complement of clichés which are to be admired. But we all love a good cliché, don’t we?
My fears or concerns about the voyage? Well, another Canadian tall ship sinking in foul weather off the coast of Brazil a month ago doesn’t exactly fill me with the joys of spring, but all the crew survived and were rescued (albeit after floating around the Atlantic in a life raft for a couple of days). The now sunken ship was actually docked next to the Picton Castle in Lunenburg when I was there last September. I actually remember it leaving port. But these things do happen from time to time, and without the small risks of adventure, there’s not really much point in doing something like this. So I am more nervous overall about the complete change of lifestyle and setting to something I have never really encountered before. Ever. It’s going to be fun.
So do feel free to stop back here from time to time for an update à la Jimmy. I promise I will do the dirty job of getting out there in the world and seeing these tropical paradises so that I can bring them right back here to your desk for you to read while you eat your lunch. Just so you don’t have to. I’m good like that.
Wish me luck. I might just need it!
