Tenacity: the reserve to not stop trying, continuing in the face of adversity, fortitude.

Flexibility: adapting to changing or new situations, not dogmatic, adaptable.

Stupidity: lacking in knowledge or common sense. Not sensible. Beyond reason.

A few definition to get this first post going. No prizes for guessing what comes next. Keep these words in mind!

It was last Monday, April 16^th and I was hard at it with the final arrangements and packing for the Atlantic trip which started with a flight that coming Thursday night. I had to pack for the trip, pack for the time in South Africa with Bernadette following the sail, and also pack for a conference we were going to in South Carolina, leaving the following day – and returning on Thursday just in time to change bags and catch my flight down to Santiago, Chile, with onward connection to Punta Arenas down in Patagonia. I was going to spend Friday afternoon and night there looking around and then catch the flight to the Falkland Islands on the Saturday morning. There is only one flight a week from South America to the Falklands, and it’s one of only three weekly flights in total that go to the Falklands. The other two are RAF sponsored flights out of Brize Norton Air Force Station in Oxfordshire, England. Missing my flight wasn’t an option – not unless I wanted to miss the first week of preparation and bonding with the rest of the crew.

So it was Monday and we’d just finished lunch (the “we” is Bernadette and James and I – James and Alice both came home over the last weekend to say good bye and good luck to me – a sundry expense to the cost of the sail – but well worth it!). My cell phone rang and low and behold – American Airlines. I don’t know about you, but when an airline calls just before a trip – it’s seldom good news. It wasn’t.

“Mr Shepherd – this is Lucy from American Airlines. How is your day going?”

“Well Lucy, it depends on what great news you have for me.”

“Well Mr Shepherd, I wanted to let you know that there has been a change to your scheduled trip later this week to – to – to Poonta Areenass.”

“A good change or a not so good change?”

“Not sure.” So we now knew this was going to be a not so go change, “We’ve heard from LATAM airlines that your connection to Poonta Areenass has changed time and now leaves at 07.53 on Friday morning.”

“Lucy, my American Airlines flight to Santiago lands at 07.47 – correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Am I missing something here?”

It was perfectly clear that this call was to inform, not help. I asked if American were going to do something about this 6 minute change – which would involve going through immigration, collecting a bag, changing terminals, going through security and getting to the gate….

6 minutes seemed a tad tight – may be a glass half empty view! They weren’t able to help me, but she had further news – to help explain. Now we were informing and explaining, but definitely not helping!

“There’s a strike down there and it seems things are fluid.” Fluid! Hmmmm, I have visited South America many times and plans there are always “fluid.” It goes with the culture. These plans weren’t fluid, they were “liquid” – at best!

After 3 hours on the phone with various offices across Latin and South America, I established that LATAM Airline’s customer service was an oxymoron, and after consulting with American “We’re here to inform you” Airlines, I established the only way around this was to leave Dallas a full day earlier. I discussed this with Bernadette and she agreed, this was the only option. Flexibility.

I had to call the conference organizer and explain we weren’t going to make it the next day. I was sad – we enjoyed this annual gathering and it was in one of our favorite places to visit – Palmeto Bluff (a place of staggering beauty). Nothing could be done, there was no flexibility around the flight out of “Poonta Areenass” on the Saturday morning. The upside of the change was that I would get more time with Jamesie who was hanging around until the Wednesday late afternoon, and we could all have dinner together later that evening. Some sense of order was restored to my life and while I was in a slight funk about the changes, I just accepted them and got on with the jobs at hand. I booked a hotel room at the Airport in Santiago for my premature arrival – somewhere I would now have to while a way almost a complete day – before my early start on the Friday morning – catching my earlier flight from Santiago to Punta Arenas.

Tuesday dawned and I was looking forward to a nice, and hither too unplanned, bike ride and the indulgence of more time to organize and pack. All seemed reasonably good with the world and, following a few hours in the office, I headed to prepare and change to go riding. Like many people, I may have a bad habit of taking my phone to the bathroom with me on some occasions (don’t judge – you’ve done it!) Sifting through emails was a productive activity to what is really down time. There was a harmless looking notification from American Airlines about my new schedule. I glanced at it – knowing the schedule inside out. BLAST OFF!

My new schedule absolutely showed the flight to Chile for the following evening, a full 24 hours before the original, but now my onward connection was showing not for 24 hours after I arrived in Santiago, but for the same day my new flight arrived. I had confirmed with American the previous evening that my original connection was still good – and it was. It got better – NOT. This new connection left 6 minutes before my flight from Dallas was due to land! I must admit, I handled this news with a private manic episode, not something one should do while vulnerable in the bathroom. After a further 6 hours on the phone with American and LATAM, it was clear – no-one was going to help. LATAM  blamed American for the stupid connection – the original flight that had been brought forward in time, had been canceled and this new flight was the only one available before Sunday – as in Sunday, the day after the day the only weekly flight to the Falklands leaves.

I have no idea how this could be American’s fault, but the guy at LATAM – who was clearly just putting me on hold while he berated other problematic travelers – just kept telling me that American had to “protect me.” He failed to explain how or why I was going to be protected. American tried to do the job for me – but all they got was to call back the next morning and say that “maybe the strike would be over – and more flights would be available.”

Didn’t sound likely to me. I let the crew who were also traveling and the skipper of the boat waiting down in the Falklands know I was in travel hell and might not make it on Saturday. A couple of the crew had already arrived in Santiago and they valiantly tried to help me by going to the airport and speaking directly with LATAM. Nothing gave. I was stuck.

I fully admit, I was in a funk. A real funk. I had missed the conference, and then missed the extra time I thought Bernadette and me and Jamesie would have had – because I was locked on the phone for what was 9 hours in total, with two more hours still to come the following day – non of which had been built into my tight plans. I was now also behind with the leaving preparations. GRAND FUNK!

I could either passively accept things and miss the first week, or I could place confidence in the strike being settled and call the next day to find I had been allocated a seat on an achievable, yet unconfirmed connection. As I sat with Bernadette that Tuesday evening, sipping on Vodka and Kombucha – my mind rolled around the alternatives I hadn’t fully explored. Santiago to Punta Arenas was a full 36 hours of driving door to door, and it involved crossing the Andes mountains – stupid. I had 49 hours of time available – in total from landing in Santiago to flying out of Punta Arenas. That wasn’t an option. There are no trains. The bus ride is actually a combination of rides and in total it was 48 hours from leaving the bus station in down town Santiago. Not an option. I was almost resolved to the inevitable and so sat to have some quality time with Bernadette (catching up on the latest episode of The Voice – so not real quality). However, she could tell my mind wasn’t on whatever Blake Shelton thought of Jack Frost’s performance. She suggested we leave this for later and go back up to the office! Within 30 minutes of playing on the internet I had re-confirmed a number of things, not least that there were no International connections into Punta Arenas. There were no flights to be booked with other carriers out of Santiago into Punta Arenas – there are two other carriers and they showed no availability – twerps. However, there was something new I came across  – I could fly from Buenos Aires into a little place called Rio Grande in Tierra del Fuego – in Argentina and it was only a 6 hour drive over the border into Chile and to Punta Arenas. I also found out that you absolutely can’t rent a car in one country and leave it in another. In fact, they don’t even let you take it over the border and then bring it back. Forbidden – not clear by whom. Now for the piece de resistance – there was a bus service from Rio Grande to Punta Arenas and it only took 8 hours, including getting off and getting on a ferry to cross the Strait of Magellan. There was more…

I found a little annotated diagram on one site – showing that the bus station in Rio Grande was a 6 minute taxi ride from the airport and the bus ride would be 8 hours. The bus left Rio Grande at 10.30 (am) on Friday morning and the flight from Buenos Aires took off at 5.30 Friday morning, arriving at 09.00 (am). This could be a possibility! Planes, taxis, buses and a ferry and I could make it into Punta Arenas by 18.30 (6.30pm) on Friday night – in time for a beer and some dinner and a night’s sleep and a taxi to the airport to catch my midday flight across to the Falklands. I explained all of this to Bernadette who gave me an encouraging nod –  which either said – “go for it” – or “you idiot, when is enough enough?”

Enough is never enough until you’ve exhausted all avenues, when the purpose is important – tenacity. Changing plans when presented with changes in circumstance – flexibility. Flying into Buenos Aires, hanging around for 20 hours in a shady hotel, catching an early morning flight when heavy thunder storms are forecast, riding a local taxi from a small airport into a small town in Tierra Del Fuego – where the location of the bus station is disputed between several locations within the same web page – getting a ferry across a famously rough piece of water and hoping the bus would be similarly transported and finish it’s trip into Punta Arenas – stupidity – maybe.

I bought the flight, bought the bus ticket (including picking a seat), reserved a hotel room near to Buenos Aires airport (wrong hotel – more to come on that), sent a note to Alice in Boston to call places en route and clarify things in Spanish – various ill explained pieces of mis-information  and then contented myself that if this failed, effort wouldn’t be the issue.

I was off to the Falkland Islands!

 

Hello there! As well as posts, you’ll find I have added a second page (pages are displayed in blue down to left I think – there’s one from before I left for the last big trip and now there’s another – like a pre-amble – for this latest trip. Please take a look and you’ll find posts right here starting very shortly.

I’m now in the Falkland Islands! Stay tuned!

Pip pip!

This Thursday evening I will complete my last day of sailing in the UK/Europe.
Just over 2500 miles in the last 9 weeks. Over 30 passages and countless days of messing  about on rivers and estuaries!

I’ve ran the gambit of experiences – enjoying beautiful scenery, massively challenging weather and met lots of interesting people in the process! Even the Medway River in Kent – a bastion of historical industrial activity can be exceptionally beautiful when you get off the main channel and into the marshes beyond. It was the setting for Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. Vast expanses of water with dangers lurking below the surface – like very little additional water and lots of land! In a rain storm it can look like hell and when the sun shines and the sky clears – it can look simply stunning.

Along the way – I’ve collected my Royal Yachting Association Day and Coastal skipper ratings so I can charter a boat anywhere in the World (in theory).

I hold a Theory certificate at the Yacht Master level –  covering Advanced Navigation, CoRegs, Weather Interpretation. 

I have my Royal Yachting Association Sea Survival, First Aid, Diesel Maintenance, Radar and Power Boat Certificates AND I now hold a UK License to operate a VHF radio! Really, to legally operate a radio on a boat – you need a license!

I know which vessel has the right of way in any given circumstance and what to do even if they don’t (regardless of their size)! I can tell you the right day shapes boats should use for any situation – restricted by draught, limited in their ability to maneuver, towing, fishing, trawling or pilot vessel (on and off duty) and I can tell you what lights they should display at night including when they are “aground” or “not under command” – Maritime law is quite precise, if a little bit archaic. I can even tell you the probable length of a boat at night just by looking at its lights and if it happens to be towing (happens more often than you think) – I can tell whether the towing boat is probably over 50 meters in length and whether the overall tow is more or less than 200 meters in total length. ? If another vessel sounds a horn, rings a bell, hits a gong or just whistles, day or night, I know what it means and how to answer. Wouldn’t you like to know this too

I know which lateral and marker buoys are which and what they mean in a channel  – day or night, Occluding, Isophasing or just plain flashing!

On a good day, I’ll sail you on to and off a mooring ball and may be even a pontoon (on a good day – not every day may be – unless you can jump at speed). I can guarantee you if you fall overboard – I can come and collect you using or not using an engine (as long as the sea conditions aren’t ridiculous – in which case you’re on your own)!

If I invested another couple of weeks I could guarantee to collect a Yacht Master Offshore Certificate – and demonstrate my abilities to an examiner (sailing on on and off a mooring ball, a pontoon and the like – skills that are not totally relevant – offshore!). In truth, the thought of another couple of weeks living in a floating caravan will drive me over the edge – and so this adventure will end when and where I originally planned and so – I am officially done with qualifications and just before I stop loving sailing and also the will to live! Enough is now very much enough!

I set out on this journey with a very simple sailing objective in mind – to become a more compenent and safer sailor and I am definitely that now – no ifs, buts or maybe’s! BUT – in the process – my mind is now a little bit frazzled and I am really quite exhausted. BUT – I am very happy and ready to move on to whatever is next! 

Thank you to all at Elite Sailing in Chatham. To Steve Ellis – a 50 something year old naughty schoolboy who willingly imparted great knowledge (both theory and practical) and nearly always put a smile on our faces (nearly always). To Tom, who over 2 weeks drove us to be much, much better sailors (and he was one of the most practical, able and laid back sailors I have ever sailed with) sailing in conditions that would have frightened the life out of me without his quiet confidence in my abilities – even if he did go to his cabin in the middle of a Force 8 blow with a cursory “knock 3 times if you need me”. Cool or what? To Alex – who, when sailing into Campbelltown gave us a masterclass in how to sail aggressively and safely close hauled with more sail than I would ever have dared to fly (and for sailing on the most inefficient point of sail for way too long – just because you can – duh)! To Barry B – an all round great bloke and skipper who taught me more about boat systems than I ever thought I needed to know and who shared a few harrowing experiences along the way (I’d lay on the deck with him in a blow fixing a broken furling drum any day – but may be next time without the sea crashing over us!). To Dave Allen the owner of Elite for putting this thing together and for creating a wonderful sailing school with great instructors and a genuine sense of care – and for being one of the best instructors I’ve had. Quiet, direct and all knowing without any hint or arrogance. Finally to Shelley who keeps the entire Elite thing moving forward and does so with simple good grace.

A huge thank you to my sailing buddy and great friend, Simon Bell. Three months ago I didn’t know him and yet yesterday I had tears in my eyes saying goodbye to him when he left to head back to Liverpool. Comradeship is a huge part of getting through the good and the bad, keeping a sense of proportion and a smile on one’s face!

And throughout all of this – the wonderful Bernadette has been a brick (read that carefully!). She has tolerated the long absences and vast distances, the moments of lost confidence and distant euphoria and who coaxed me by phone through the days where all was not happiness and contentment, often in remote parts of the UK! She was and is my biggest fan. She has very poor judgement!

Now it’s time for she and I to have some fun together and move on to whatever is next.

Pip pip,

N

I mentioned in the post I made immediately after getting back to the Marina in Chatham from the round GB trip – that I would share some reflections with you after spending a little time thinking about things (the people of Tonic doesn’t count and may or may not materialize – let me know your views on that). Trying to focus on how I feel and what I’ve discovered, figuring out what impact going around Great Britain has had on me – has proved to be more difficult than I expected. May be its because I haven’t quite finished the sailing lark – I am in the middle of the two weeks of Yacht Master training and so I am still sailing or boating every day. 

May be its because I don’t want to admit that the big adventure sail is actually over. Who knows? I had a reunion of sorts the Friday before last, when a few of us (well, Simon, Charlotte, Barry and Gill, Bernadette, Les and Debra) – got together to celebrate my birthday. The atmosphere was lively and there was a sense of liberation (and I don’t think that was anything to do with the age I have reached!) It was clear however, that something wasn’t quite complete, something wasn’t yet over and done with. We needed something else to happen. I really don’t think there is anything that can satisfy that condition – especially not the Yacht Master prep piece. 

Simon and I had just completed a Power Boat course (another RYA License gained!) and a day on Radar and Electronics with Dave, the School owner. I had been able to travel up and down to the Medway each morning and evening and therefore getting to sleep in my own bed and spend the nights with Bernadette – therefore having some semblance of a more normal life. I’ll come to why that was important or relevant shortly. In any case – it seemed that once again we were back being suspended in the incredible, but unreal world of sailing around the UK.

So back to normality and relevance – I haven’t had any epiphanies as such, since getting back from the COGB (Circumnavigation of Great Britain) – and I don’t think I had any on my way around. There were some pretty meaningful things that passed through my consciousness and some of them challenged me to rethink my future, but none of them are what I would call – “road to Damascus” reveals!

At some stage – I think it was when I broke away to go to the North East for the wedding, I started to think about what constituted my comfort zone, as in the places and things that made me feel comfortable. I had come to realized that the entire experience I was having going around GB was really challenging my supposed comfort zone and my personal security.  

There was a very specific moment en route from Oban to the Kyle of Lochalsh that seemed to crystallize things for me. We couldn’t go through a particular narrow channel (Kyle Rhea) until the tide turned. We sat off a tiny little little village (the place was called Gleneig – a little place – just a handful of houses with kids playing in the cold sea water – kids!) and we waited there for almost 3 hours – just sitting on anchor waiting. It was really isolated. The entire boat was quiet and even with 9 people (have I told you there were too many people on the boat), there was a sense of being alone and at one. Sitting alone up on the bow, I just looked at the scenery and the isolation of the place and thought about how I would feel if I lived there and concluded that I could live there, if I was with the right person – but never alone and not without the wherewithal to escape it. Easy to think these thoughts when you clearly have the wherewithal! So in my head and in my rationalization of living in this place, my comfort zone was not under attack – because I knew if I lived there under current circumstance, I could change the situation whenever I chose to.  

Back to the summing up. Most of what happened during this adventure, wasn’t negotiable. You couldn’t opt in or out of it – unless one was OK with letting others down and leaving them in the lurch (we were, after all sailing the boat for others and for Elite). We were integral to what was happening and therefore we had to live up to the responsibilities we had assumed. This might be directly at odds with the argument about having the wherewithal to leave something – unless having the wherewithal includes the option to be released from our responsibilities. When we blew the head sail in the Firth of Forth and Simon came down to my birth to get me on deck – I couldn’t say “sorry – a bit tired old man – just going to have a rest and may be see you shortly” (really wanted the rest – but too nosy about what had just happened causing the continuous and massive banging on the hull and deck). I had responsibilities to others.

In general, one of my strongest attributes – if I say so myself – is the ability to generalize And so, I reckon we have three areas of comfort, which collectively determine our overall zone of comfort.

Comfort with our emotions, comfort with our physical environment and comfort with our psychological state.

I guess one of my motivations for this blog, was to provide an avenue to share some of my emotions, knowing that I would need to show comfort in them and to keep a lid on them when on the boat, unless I wanted to either be ostracized or thought to be a bit of a nut case, or both (which say’s it all really). 

I am, by design and character, quite emotional (Brit use of quite, not US). Some might say too emotional, but those would be the folks who tend to have little emotion themselves. I should share that I am highly suspicious of folks with limited emotional intelligence, who always seem to be in control of themselves, rather aloof and dispassionate (this may be a masterclass in post rationalization – so take note!). May be my view may has personal security at its heart – and emotional v not emotional may be as simple as levels of security versus levels of insecurity. People who have little to no insecurity – to my mind (one man’s thinking) – usually lack perception and demonstrate little emotional intelligence (now this really is Gold Medal generalization, I fully realize that). At the other end of the extreme – folks who are overly emotional, usually lack any personal security and generally are horrendous folks to have to deal with on a regular basis – especially for the totally secure who just don’t get it. I quite like dealing with them! Getting emotionally comfortable is very important and that means being comfortable with the emotions of others. This trip challenged my comfort with the emotions of others.

The journey on Tonic seriously challenged my emotional compass – in that I shared a small space with a wide variety of people, who in varying degrees could, and sometimes did, get right on my wick (not to be confused with respecting or liking these folks). A lack of respect for other peoples’ space, lower standards of cleanliness and orderliness, domination of others time through a lack of thoughtfulness, and intolerance of other’s differences – all played out on Tonic, often at the same time. BUT – overall, there still was always fun to be had (even in Wick of all places) and overall, a sense of Bon ami amongst those onboard. But – there was also an unease, although I can’t quite pin point where it lay – but there was often an evident undercurrent.  

Here’s what I discovered about myself, emotionally. I am fully capable of accepting and being at ease with emotional challenges from others – things that hitherto would have rocked me to the core – but only if I keep in mind that these things are only temporary – as in having a limited shelf life! Because these challenges are passing ones, it’s easier to let them go and move on.

Most things in life happen in the here and now and if you hang about for long enough – they change or they normalize or they become the norm – which means things will either go back to prior comfort levels or become the new comfortable – after a time! Nothing around us is permanent! If they happen to become the new norm – then there is an adjustment period and it’s possible to adapt – if we’re prepared to accept the circumstances and go with it. Resistance is usually stupid – usually.

What about comfort from our physical environment? I have always been pretty good at adapting to changes in my physical environment, although when I’m in my own space I may appear be on the verge of being OCD – now careful here people – if you’re nodding to yourself and saying “Nick, you certainly are” – it may be because you are an untidy SOB who has strayed into my more orderly world – AND THE ISSUE IS REALLY YOURS! In fact – I kind of thrive on the pain caused by having to adapt to the environment around me and pushing through that pain. I have spent long periods of time thinking about what it would be like to live in an alternative place and having to make it work. As a student – I lived in places that would have horrified me earlier in my life – and in the end I loved every place I lived while at college. I think I inherited this perverse gene from my mother which allows me to thrive on personal sacrifice! There are others in my family who have this gene at a much higher level!

Finally, when it comes to looking at the psychological aspect of comfort – I’m not going to touch it – other than to say that while I was away, I discovered or rediscovered some people dependencies that are healthy and appropriate (but not saying who in case it goes to their head – it may be you or, but it most likely isn’t!) – and this deeply impacted my psychological state. How I was feeling was determined more by what I was thinking about at the time, than my physical circumstances or my emotional demeanor. But there seemed to be very little that, at the end of the day, a couple of pints, a drop of wine over dinner and a late night whisky couldn’t fix. No issues there then, surely!

So – and in conclusion (which I am sure you are longing for), I would hypothesize that the world is too fixated with deciding and defining what other people’s comfort zones are (“he/she is so far out of their comfort zone”) – when in reality – only we can define these things. We can challenge and redefine what and who we are and therefore push on our level of comfort as we see fit. There is absolutely nothing wrong with folks who decide that what they have right now is what they want and that’s what makes them comfortable – spared of the the judgement we can bring to other’s situations. 

What I can say, with complete conviction is that I fully believe that driving change and learning to cope with it is a must in today’s world and it is something I constantly fascinate myself with, regardless of the discomfort it can bring (and it was at #2 in Nick Shepherd’s top 10 guidelines to living life, shared almost 20 years ago with my Blockbuster team when I moved to the US). It probably didn’t do them any good anyway!

I learned something from Charles Handy (and if you haven’t read his book – The Age of Unreason – you are missing a treat). I loved the quote he used in the book – it’s a quote from George Bernard Shaw I think, and I have both lived up-to it and quoted it many times in the years since discovering it (almost 27 years ago). “The reasonable man adapts himself to the world while the unreasonable man persists in trying to adapt the world to himself – therefore all change requires an unreasonable man”. See – I told you this would be a master class in post rationalization! 

“Fing is Dave” – life is a blend of acceptance and challenge. in reality, our comfort zone is likely to be challenged on a frequent basis and maintaining the status quo in order to remain comfortable – is likely to be a fools errand. Actually, resisting change is rather stupid if you don’t mind me saying (and on the basis that this is a monologue not a discussion, I don’t really care!). Complicit acceptance that things need to stay as they are – is really stupid. If we place all of our efforts into keeping the the world as it is, in order to preserve our own status quo – is way beyond being unreasonable – it’s clearly selfish, definitely narrow-minded, certainly naive and frankly dumb. If we get comfortable with the notion that our world will constantly change and we must adapt to circumstances (essentially future circumstances), we might just prosper. 

All of this claptrap aside – my trip around the UK has certainly had a major impact on me. It may have failed to answer the questions I thought were important on the way in – but it has crystallized the questions I really should be addressing on the way out. I am more adaptable than I was. I am more appreciative of the importance of certain things than I ever was – but I am probably more reliant on some than I ever realized. 

I love sailing and will continue to do as much as I really want to, for as long as I can. I have no wish to be a long passage maker and I do not want to earn a living from it, nor be a master of all things sailing (sorry Alex my friend, but you are and you deserve to be – but stop shouting at people and accept that there are more ways to skin a cat than your way). 

Coming into this adventure, my simple objectives were to become a safer and more competent sailor, to be more appreciative of the things I have in life and less demanding of what I don’t have and may want. Also, I wanted to accomplish something new – from something I am not a natural at – and I am not a natural sailor. I also wanted to figure out what I want from the future. I leave this adventure with more than I brought in – but not the answers to all of this. There is a tick in almost every box other than the final one. BUT – I was incorrectly trying to figure this out from a career POV and not a life POV. I have more of an answer to one and less for the other, but then only one really counts! You can figure out which one that is.

I may go ahead and take the next exam at some point – all 36 hours of it (take the exam or not – a constant question in my mind and one I flagged earlier – and one I have yet to answer, even though instructors have told me I should – but I am losing the will to live right now by continuing to work up to it). But, to be clear, the exam doesn’t test who the best overall sailor is – it tests who can memorize the most and who can do the tricks best – per the RYA way (and trust me, there is so much that is different between the RYA and US Sailing). I seriously think it’s like a successful CEO doing an MBA. Could you get something out of doing it? Of course you could – but is there a sufficient purpose in it? Probably not. I just don’t want to lose my love of sailing and frankly – I am.

I now know that a great sailor is able to intuitively know where the wind is and how to use that wind to achieve the sailing objective. I know that I can now feel the wind like I never did, in reality and figuratively speaking – the winds in our weather and the winds in our whether! I now know where the winds are coming from that blow through my life and so I feel better equipped to navigate my way ahead! We’ll see!

Has this been life changing – you bet. Can I articulate quite how – not really. I know that being a CEO or a SeaEO isn’t what defines me and nor should it. 

When it’s all said and done – don’t waste time, yours or other people’s, make memories for yourself and for those closest to you – and always remember – life is grand if you want it to be – just solve for what is really important and what makes you really happy, not what makes you comfortable. And then – value that for all it’s worth!

A last pip pip, may be?

N 

So you already know we made it back to Chatham and completed our mission. When last I wrote from the boat – we were coming down the East Coast and motor sailing with the wind and current on our nose. Well – that persisted, and we motor sailed, not helped by our lack of confidence in the head sail, which meant we resisted using it. We passed as close as we could to the coast line, reducing the effect of the current and avoiding the shallows that are a feature of this coast. I had hoped to call into Lowestoft to see my family who live there, but time didn’t permit. However, as I sailed past the port about a mile or so out to sea, I called my big brother. At first he didn’t pick up (it was 6.00 in the morning), but he called back shortly afterwards and we chatted about what was going on. Strange to think I was just a mile away – but so inexcessable. 
Our entry into Harwich was uneventful, even with traffic entering Felixstowe – which shares the same estuary as Harwich. We had to avoid the shallows that lead up to the mouth of the rivers Orwell and Stour, and we did. An hour after passing the entry marker – we tied up on the fuel dock at Wolverstone Marina. We had decided it would be great to spend our last night on the boat at a nice destination, and have dinner somewhere suitable and special. Pin Mill is a small village on the Orwell and still has a couple of working Boat Yards as well as a lovely pub called the Butt and Oyster. It’s a short and lovely walk along the bankside country from Woolverstone. And so that’s where we had our last supper.

Before dinner we sat outside enjoying a perfectly decent pint of Adnam’s Ghost – and chatted. To be honest, I got a little pissed off. There was clearly an evident degree of negativity in the two newest crew members. They thought they had been oversold this leg and their experience wasn’t what they wanted. There is no denying that the marketing hype and the reality of what could be delivered were not necessarily aligned, but a cursory look at a map and a bit of common sense would tell you that the actual passages needed to get you down the East Coast from Lossiemouth in North Scotland to Chatham in Kent would be very long. We had stopped at all the places mentioned – but they had to endure a lot of sailing – or should I say “motor sailing”. They repeatedly  commented about not sailing as much as they would have hoped – well that’s life when the wind isn’t cooperative – you have to either wait or switch the engine on! Unusually for me – I just went quiet and left the group to the discussion, which developed into a broader conversation about the terrible course of modern life and the intrusion of technology, specifically cell phones and social media. Now, I have some sympathy with this point of view, but as presented that night, it sounded like even more negativity and like a gathering of the United Society of Luddites. I felt myself starting to fill with annoyance and eventually said the most bizarre thing: “There are more positive things in my life than negative. I have more happier things happen to me than sad. I enjoy way more of my life than not enjoy and I am way more thankful than regretful”. This was all true – but may be a little out of place in the conversation. Nevermind, I have a feeling that while this did strike the group as being an odd thing to have said, it was also perhaps a little poignant, because the tenor of the conversation changed and we started to talk about how much we had enjoyed parts of the last week. I carefully rejoined the conversation and the world seemed happier to me.

A little detail to share. As we walked to the pub that night, I chatted with one of the two guys who had joined us at Lossiemouth and he talked about his view on the necessity to wear a neck tie at all times and accompany it with a jacket – and by doing so, it shows that one is worthy of doing a particular job, or just generally being part of a respectable and responsible society. At first, I thought it was a tongue in cheek conversation, but it wasn’t. He is an active, very recently retired school teacher who until this last week had been teaching sixth form kids and imparting this message. This guy is an educated and very decent man. I had enjoyed his company for the last 6 days. I thought he was normal.

“What marks the difference between you and the man who turns up to clean the drains – is the way you dress. He dresses appropriately for the job he does and so should you for your job and position in life”. I quote this verbatim. I don’t fully understand it. With this sort of advice coming from a school teacher, I am at a complete loss as to why any kid would feel the world wasn’t in tune with their needs and wants. It’s commonsensical – surely. If we all go back to wearing a coat and tie, the world will be a more respectful place, youth employment will be cured (along with cancer) and we will see tolerance and respect abound. We’ll also be able to sail without wind. I can’t help myself – in the words of the great Count Arthur Strong himself – Idiot!

AT 10.00 the next morning, after further messing with the head sail, we slipped lines and headed down the Orwell and back into the North Sea headed to cross the Thames Estuary. We raised both the main and full head sail as we drifted down the Orwell and as soon as we said goodbye to Felixstowe and Harwich our sails filled and we had the sail of our lives, knocking off hour after hour at 8.0 knots plus. We sailed happily through the shallows off Clacton and into the Thames estuary. Eventually off Shoeburyness, we had to furl away the head sail and power up the liquid wind and head across the Thames approach and over to the Medway. The night turned a little chilly and as the sun went down we said hello to Sheerness and the start of our last few miles back to Tonic’s home. With a strong current against us, we cut each corner as close as possible, in order to make it back into the Marina at an acceptable time. 
And so we did, as you know, make it back at shortly after 9.00pm. The crew fully agreed that we’d had the best day’s sailing anyone could have asked for and so the sins of previous days may have been forgiven. We’d managed a wonderful day, behaving like real sailors and not a neck tie or coat were insight!

Almost 7 weeks earlier, we had crept out of the Marina and through the lock at 4.00 am in the morning headed for France and the start of our Journey. Now we were back and while this had been massively testing, we had endured and succeeded. No matter what, we had now done something that few do – we had taken a sailing Yacht around the entire coast of Great Britain (per the child like map I posted a few days ago).

And so now I have been back on land for several days and nights and acclimating back to life ashore. It’s going pretty well – but it is a little strange. I had no idea how tired I was – am!

There were days out there when I just wanted the thing to be over with – and now I have moments when I just wish I was back out there. I’ll get over those! Oh yes I will!

As I said in my previous posting, I will take a little while to reflect and share some thoughts about the entire adventure, so if you’re interested, stay tuned, but I can give you one little insight – I’m starting to think it might just turn out to have been life changing after-all! 

Pip pip for now,

N
Post Script: I got an e mail from Barclay tonight asking me to stay in touch and declaring how much he’d enjoyed his time with me, especially in Wick. So what did I do? I told him exactly what he needed to hear – I sent him a note thanking him and suggesting we should stay in touch. I know, I know – but what can a man do, especially one who’s life has just been changed!

  

So I have other stuff to post, and will do shortly (yes – don’t call me shortly – Naked Gun) – but here I sit in our place in Battersea drinking tea with Bernadette, listening to Classic Fm and starting the dual processes of acclimating myself back to the real world (at least until next Wednesday when we begin the serious  Yacht Master training) and also the process of reflecting on what I’ve just done. I’ll share those thoughts with you – if you are interested – but I’ll take a few days to mull things over.

I can tell you that I was never been so pleased to arrive somewhere as I was last night at shortly after 9.00pm when we pulled into the lock at Chatham – less pulled and more dashed at a crazy speed (the tidal flow was at its strongest and to get into the gate – we had to power across and through the gate grinding to a halt on the right hand floating pontoon to sit and wait while the lock filled). Simon was trying to blast out Going Home from Local Hero as we entered! We made it – no colateral damage to boat or crew. This was my last time at the helm of Tonic (and to the end – her throttle both stuck open and she wouldn’t shift gear when asked to – saucy minx!). I took her out of the birth many weeks ago and here I was putting her back in.

While in the lock and from above me there was shouting going on and looking up – there was Bernadette leading the welcome home party (well, 3 of them, Benradette and our great friends Les and Debra – who have provided incredible support through the preparation and execution of this crazy plan of mine). I was so excited to see Bernadette and gang waiting there. We all had a great night in the Italian(ish) restuarant right there by the locks – welcome party and crew. We might have enjoyed anything at that point – but what we had was excellent. We celebrated what had just happened.

So more to follow from me on the two last passages, the arrival, reflections opon what’s just happened, a piece on the people of Tonic (which I think you’re entitled too, having stuck with this blog) and finally a piece on comfort zones! Until then – see the map below which shows what we just did!

Thank you God for getting us around and allowing us to keep some of our sanity. We didn’t exactly circumnavigate the globe, but we did something that not many folks get to do and it challenged us to our cores – both personally and skillwise. It certainly was a better option than sitting on my ass pondering my time as a CEO – from the comfort of my home. I know already it has made me think a new about my relationships and what’s important – what is most definitely of value and may be what I don’t want to do next. It’s also re-established just how privilged I really am and how others seem to leads a perfectly satisfying life with so much less than I have – or may be that’s why they have such a satisfying life. Since I left home – the world has continued to do crazy, cruel things. People have been killed out of hate – Dallas, Baton Rouge and now a defenseless, dedicated 83 year old priest in France – this is just so obnoxious. It also hits home – I have a Brother-in-law who is an Anglican Priest in a church in France – and clearly vulnerable, not because of what he is or what he does, but because of what he’s not. There is no circumnavigation long enough to go and fathom this shit out. 

I’m drifting into my reflections, which I don’t want to do here and now. May be I need to go and circumnavigate something else so I can think about that!

BUT –  The biggest question for me to answer, is one which I did ponder ahead of this: Has this been life changing?  Well – we’ll see, won’t we.

Pip pip

SeaEO

I’m sitting here writing this on the passage from Whitby to Harwich – a mere 200 mile jaunt down the east coast. We have no wind once again, so the engine is on and we’re running into current on our nose and so only getting 4.5 knots – after initially getting 8! This is a 35 – 40 hour passage! It started at 6.00 this morning running out of Whitby after a very brief “splash and dash” 10 hour stay. I skippered the boat down to Whitby from Newcastle and had the opportunity to take it into this very interesting fishing port. There are all-sorts of dangers, not least of which is it is very shallow except at high water. There is a narrow channel and a swing bridge. All of that was taken care of and we tied up ahead of schedule and shot down to the Magpie Cafe for some of their infamous Fish and Chips (6 out 10 – sorry). After a short night’s sleep – here we are. I have been to Whitby before and once again I concluded that in the season (not sure what that means because it was freezing there yesterday), Whitby is a hell hole dressed in a summer frock. In winter it returns to a cosy little fishing community with pounds that sell real ale and local food. Last night the streets were full of holiday makers of the variable type.  
Our intention is to get to Harwich by late afternoon tomorrow and go up to the Marina at Wolverston – on the River Orwell. It’s a very pretty place and we would like a nice last evening together ahead of running down the rest of the coast, over the Thames Estuary into the Medway and back to Chatham by Tuesday night. We are being very ambitious doing this, but there are few options – if we are to have the boat back in time. If things get too much for us we could stop short in Lowestoft, but that means another very long day the next day – so the vote on the boat is to keep going. I have family in Lowestoft and it would be great to see them, especially my big brother Trevor – but the consequences of going in are large and I know that in a democratic vote of the crew here – I would be out numbered significantly! I think they would like Trev, but there you go! They’ll never know what they’ll miss.

I want to use the rest of this trip, including the lonely night watches, to think about what this has all meant to me. To go around the complete Island of Great Britain. I’m sure I will need to reflect for a little time before I can properly articulate how I feel about things. Right now – I just want it to be over! I am tired and ready for some normality. Simon and I have been sailing continuously for 8 weeks now. We have had new people come on OUR boat every week, some were great, some less so (for the avoidance of doubt, Barclay was on the negative side of the equation). I am very excited about seeing Bernadette in Chatham and to get a few days off with her before the rest of the plan starts (advanced stuff associated with doing the Yacht Mater Test later in August). While I’ve been doing all of this messing about on boats, she’s had to endure the Dallas summer, look after Bootsie and keep James on the straight and narrow (Alice is no longer our responsibility – you marry – you transfer privileges and responsibilities). Bernadettte has been an absolute brick and I miss her more than I can put into words. As for the Yacht master test, I’m still not sure I’ll do it. If I feel like I’m ready – I’ll go for it. Part of me says I have nothing to lose and part of me says I don’t have to have the pressure. I’m not going to use it to make a living – but there is a huge amount of work needed over 3 weeks before I go for it. I promise you I will let you know what I decide. As for the next blog entry – hopefully it will be about the last night as a boat crew – at the Butt and Oyster at Pin Mill. Until then – pip pip,

Pip pip,

N

Sorry for two postings all together and even sorrier for the next one coming at the same time too! Out of contact is the answer!

We had a wonderful day on Holy Island. Breakfast, a short sleep, some boat chores and then we got out the dingy (depending on your point of view, alternately called Gin or The Titanic). We lunched on the Island, went for a walk – attempted to re-provision, with limited success and then returned to the boat where we sat in the cockpit and watched the sun start to go down We ate together with a glass of not so good wine from the small store on the Island and hit the hey in preparation for the trip down to Newcastle the next morning. I’ve already posted on this one, so I won’t repeat myself, but taking the helm and entering the River Tyne was awesome (wish it had been under sail – but the lack of wind and space meant it was entry under motor).
There is a lock system to get into the Marina in North Shields – and while refueling and waiting – a voice called out to me no it was my old school friend Vince (Taylor) standing above looking down – together with his son Tommy. Vince had followed the blog and reached out to me and offered to come and meet the boat as we came in – and of course, head out for a pint, which is exactly what we did. This was the third old friend to make time to meet up with me (Anthony and Jacquie in Peel) and it was excellent. We caught up and chatted and generally agreed we should make more of seeing each other. We had worked together a few years ago on pulling an old friend’s Memorial together, which included a boat trip down the Tyne with some musicians and a load of booze. It was only afterwards that we thought that it might not have been an appropriate final tribute to someone who died from the consequences of Alcohol! Still, we all have to go from something and we can’t all tread on egg shells. 

Seeing Vince again served as a timely reminder of the many paths I’ve been lucky enough to have crossed, of people who influenced me and shaped me (don’t worry Vince, I’m not blaming you for anything here – but you probably had more influence over my musical taste and my attitude to in home entertaining than anyone else). Vince used to host great Saturday night parties that I would go to after finishing work at the Gosforth Park Hotel. The best thing about the parties was that our Head Master, Fr. Walsh would call us up to his study the following Monday morning to question us about them. “What would your parents say boy if they knew about these going’s on”

“Have a great party Vince” I remember was the answer Vince gave.

“This is not the behavior of lads from this school” – which is really silly if you think about it because it clearly was – given that 90% of the boys there went to the school (and 90% of the Girls went to The Sacred heart Convent). We never found out how he knew about the parties – but sure enough – he did and he continued to embarrass himself with his intervention. The consequences of our gauche behavior was to be banned from being Prefects and not to be allowed to go to visit Trinity and All Saints College in Leeds (poor examples of St. Cuthbert’s boys). Well Fr. Walsh (now departed), or Slug as we used to call you – it seems that those errant boys have become socially adjusted, semi responsible members of society who are fully capable of putting away a few Guinness’s on a Friday afternoon when we see each other.

Stopping in Newcastle allowed me to go to my sister-in-law’s retirement dinner with the rest of the family. After 32 years of teaching at the Sacred Heart (the very same one who’s girls attended Vince’s parties) – she is giving up her classroom to effectively retire. Great for her. What dedication she has shown to the school and the kids. I seriously think she and my brother are all that is good about the dedicated folks who each day go to work (or not now that they are retired) with the intention of positively effecting change in our kids lives and preparing them for the future. So Newcastle was magical – I stayed with Gill and Gerry (sister and brother in law), had 2 showers in the space of 12 hours, a very comfortable bed, 2 very nice whisky’s before bed, a great conversation and bacon rolls for breakfast. What a stay!

Pip pip,

N

We pulled out of Lossiemouth a tad before 9.00pm on Tuesday – as soon as we had sufficient water below our keel to exit the tight little harbor. The evening was stunning. Warm, blue skies with a few whisper clouds, the sun sitting low over the distant hills and we slipped eastwards towards the North Sea. We got the main sail up and presently the head sail, switched off the engine started delivering 8.0 knot plus speeds. The 10.00pm watch took over the cockpit and I went below to my bunk to try and get a little rest before my 2.00am watch. Given the ability of our crew – we had decided to deliver 2 X 4 hour watches with 2 folks per watch and with Barry helping out when we needed a sail change or whatever. After a relatively short sleep I was woken by flapping sheets banging on the deck above my head. The wind had backed and we were now running 30 degs off our course. Peter had been on the helm and he hadn’t responded and was clearly having trouble finding the wind – even though Simon (who was skippering the first part of this 180 mile passage) kept telling him to turn to port!
By the time Charlotte and I took control at 2.00am, we had sailed a significant distance off our track. After a little time to acclimate to what was going on – we tacked and started what I call the “punishment tack – the one that doesn’t get you any closer to your destination – it just positions you for the money tack. We then tacked to get on the money tack – the one that get’s you significantly towards your destination. But with further backing of the wind – there was precious little money going in the bank. More concerning was that the wind changes were associated with an approaching front and I could see lightening up ahead, behind and at the side of us. 

I asked Barry to come up and he and I put in a second reef in the main in anticipation of the front hitting us. We also reeled in the head sail. Charlotte kept asking me if I thought this storm would hit us – I had to be honest and tell her – yes it would – it was just a matter of time. Without over dramatizing – around 5.00 the storm hit us and we rolled away the head sail (it was and still is broken and we didn’t want to get caught not being able to shorten it – and we have to either roll it by hand or very cautiously using the furling line). We sheeted in the main, switched on the engine and just motored through it. We used the oven as a faraday cage and placed phones, iPads and our hand held radio inside in case we were stuck by lightening and needed to attract attention! 

We closed up the hatch with our washboards (the boards that prevent water from the cockpit going down into the Salon) and for the next 30 minutes I was on my own at the helm with the worst rain I have ever experienced – to the extent that it hurt my hands and my face. The lightening was all around and way too close for my comfort. The winds dropped (thank goodness) and the seas then went ominously flat – partially because of the force of the rain. When Simon relieved my shortly after 06.30 – I was ready for a hot drink and to dry out. The worst of the storm was behind us and we could see Peterhead off to our starboard. Off and on for the next 6 hours we got rain and thunder!

With the main up and little wind – we motor sailed on and went through a succession of squalls and showers until it started to dry up around mid day. We were making good time again, having been put about 5 hours behind getting to where Peterhead was a beam of us (because of wind changes and the storm). We try to deliver 6 knot hours and we were now delivering 7 knots and even 8 at time (being pushed by current from behind us). Our estimate of between 28 and 34 hours to do the passage was still looking good. I took over the skippering after Peterhead and appropriately started my hourly fixes on the chart – measuring our progress down the eastern seaboard of Scotland. Seeing a row of dots with circles around them, marked with time and distance is a wonderful thing. The storm had been uncomfortable, but not life threatening.

As Charlotte and I handed the watch over to Simon and Graham at midnight, we were dashing along at almost 8 knots with the power coming from the main and a little bit of engine to coax her along. We had avoided the head sail, but with the wind finally veering onto our starboard beam, we would be able to roll out some of the head sail and become a sail boat again. I recommended to Simon to work with Barry and to make sure he cleated off just enough of the furling line to make sure when he did pull out the sail – he only got the amount he needed. 

I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard the engine go off and the head sail furl out. Then there were horrendous bangs and crashes as the head sail sheets (the lines that attach to the foot of the sail and back to the cockpit to provide control and allow us to tack) were whipping against the deck and the side of the boat. Knowing Barry would be there – no need to worry – but there was a lot of noise. Next – the engine went back on. Very strange! Just before I was about to get up and see what the commotion was – Simon poked his head around my open cabin door and asked if I could join them on deck. The head sail had completely furled out – the wind had freshened to 20 plus knots and there was no way to furl it back in – as the furling line was now completely wound around the stay under the drum and not inside it. Barry was up at the bow trying to sort out the furling line, the sail was flapping out of control over the port side and we seemed to be hurtling along at break knock speeds (well 9 knots) pushed by the main sail and we were clearly out of control – in the dark in the middle of the Firth of Forth. My immediate action was to sheet in the head sail so at least it would stop uncontrollably flapping and it would give us more control over the boat. I then clipped on and worked my way to the front to see what Barry was trying to do. I had my wet weather coat on, but not the matching pants, just a pair of thin track pants on. I was soaked by the time I reached the bow. Barry was trying to unleash the furling line that was wrapped around the stay – so that we could at least then wind the drum and therefore the sail back in. However, the boat was ploughing into the waves and they were breaking directly across our bow and therefor us! I told Barry I was going to go back to the cockpit and heave the boat to – a move which stops the boat and let’s it sit safely so that you can work on things, catch your breath, have a cup of tea etc. I hadn’t done this with Tonic and so it would be trial and error. The maneuver involved turing the boat through the wind, backing the head sail (the wind gets on the wrong side for sailing) and then you turn the wheel to weather to balance the boat. When performed correctly, this is a great way to calm any terrible situation. The first attempt stopped the boat – but then she swiveled around and started to sail again. Second time she stopped and we just jogged along at about 1kt.

The problem with doing this, was that it relies on the head sail to do the heavy lifting and this was the sail that we really needed to get back in! I moved forward again and worked with Barry try and free up the furling line and get it back in its drum so we might be able to wind the sail in. After 30 minutes of trying – we had the furling line free, but the drum wouldn’t turn. We tried to manually wind the sail in but it had too much power and we kept losing it. It also kept whipping about and there was a real danger of it catching us and at best really slashing across our faces and at worst – knocking us over board. In the end we agree there was only one thing for it – drop the sail. In hind sight – we should have gone for this option immediately, but we were afraid with just the 2 of us we could end up losing an expensive sail. We needed to find the correct Halyard wound up on the sail. Because you generally don’t drop this sail (unless you need to Hank on a storm sail), neither of us knew which one it was. I plumbed for the biggest coil and God was certainly helping us – because it was. We dropped the sail, it went in the water on the starboard side, but we managed to pull if back on board and after a further half hour we had the things lashed to the guard rail. In the process we had dropped the main to reduce movement and that meant pulling down each fold and doing so while it was still partially powered up. My hands were a complete mess – chapped and soar from carpal tunnel syndrome!

We settled the boat and crew down, hoisted back the main and sailed off as if noting had happened.

Within 3 hours we were entering the natural anchorages at Holy Island at Dawn – a tricky set of maneuvers, but we made it in seamlessly and dropped the hook. I think the pure awe of the place overtook any thoughts about the issues we had just faced and we felt good about life. The serenely beautiful setting of Holy Island marked our return to England and also a significant number of miles closer to the end. It was hard to believe that we had come right around the North of Scotland and now we were on the way home.

Post Script. My partner in crime, Simon, felt badly about the head Sail incident – and I’m not too sure why. The sail just doesn’t work and he did what he should have done to prevent what happened from happening. Once it happened – he stayed in the cockpit to look after the others and coordinate at that end. He is very competent sailor and I would trust his judgement without question. 

Pip pip,

N

As you know, we finally set sail from Wick after a good time off. We sailed through some wet, nasty weather and out into the clear, To our right there was the Beatrice Oil Field looking like something from Mad Max! The chart suggests you sail around the marked exploration area, so we did just that. Our sailing varied from a brisk 8.5 knots down to 3.00 – so we had the “Ior n Sail” off and on as we went. We arrived at Lossiemouth right at the predicted time and found another yacht sitting just off the harbor entrance. The chart showed only 0.4 meters of depth (to which you have to add the appropriate tide). In this case we arrived a couple of hours after Low Water and so we should have had the required 2 meters to enter (that’s the depth of our Keel). We dropped and rolled the sails and motored over to the other boat to see what was what. We had 3 contradictory pieces of information. 1) The Chart showing very low water 2) The Almanac showing the harbor/marina dredged to 2 meters and 3) Barry’s iPad showing 3 to 4 meters of depth. The other boat was drawing 0.5 m less than us so they said they were going in and would radio to tell us what they had under there keel as they went in. They did just that and told us they had 1.0m under there keel so we were in business. We entered at very low speeds (me at the helm) and made the 180 degree turn straight from the narrow harbor mouth and in to the East basin where the visitors births are. We could see immediately that the very last easy birth had been taken by the boat in front of us! We had been trying to raise the Harbor Master and Marina all day – but without any luck. As we entered the basin our low depth warning alarms started to scream. I first tried us on a short pontoon birth but I could feel the keel slide into the silt! I backed out of there, swung the boat around in a very close space (she does turn nicely_) and tried to head out and up to the West basin. This time the Alarms really screened and I stopped the boat dead as the indicator went to 1.8m (we need a minimum of 2.0)! Now I backed up and had to wrestle the boat into a space where we could raft up. We looked ridiculous – rafted up to the biggest boat we could find, but so, so much smaller than us. This was later corrected when the skipper of the other boat returned and offered to swap places – with us on the pontoon and him rafted to us. In any event, we were in and the boat made good for the evening. We then headed out to dinner and celebrate the last night as the total group. We’d already lost James and we were about to lose Lloyd (sorry Barclay). We entered up in a place called 1629, a white tablecloth Italian inspired Asian up market cocktail come wine bar With the most extensive menu I’ve seen n a long time. With only a resident population of about 5,000, surprisingly, there are 5 Indian restaurants in Lossiemouth, but not a lot of other choices! We retuned to the boat and after the usual gathering around the Salon table, we headed to bed. I had already told Barry that I wouldn’t be joining the team the next day if they went out to sail in the bay, I wanted some shore time ahead of the last push down the North Sea. 
So here I am in Elgin, sitting in a Costa Coffee writing this dribble. I had a nice walk through Lossiemouth where it seems everyone is nice and wanting to speak. I was given local insight that the bus service to Elgin was circular and went both ways. There were 2 bus stops and 1 bus shelter. The next bus would be from the stop opposite the shelter. So I walked up to the bus stops (it was now raining) and was about to cross over to the stop for the earliest bus (33 minutes ahead of the later bus, and only 5 minutes off) when I noticed a couple of folks in the shelter. I popped my head in and just confirmed the next bus to Elgin went from the stop opposite.
“Oh it does indeed”

“Are you waiting for it here”

“Not at all – I’m getting the later bus into Elgin”

“Oh, do they go to different places”

“No – but I like the direction of this one better”

The other person in there seemed to not be with us. Her jaw was sucked in, in the way that some Scottish folks jaws are – possibly as the result of bad dentistry – who knows. Her eyes were sunken and distant. She was smoking a roll up with practically nothing in it and drinking from a can of own label beer. She didn’t answer.

On arrival in Elgin, I made my way here to the Tourist Information Office, which happened to be the Public Library. I hadn’t been in a British Public Library for over a quarter of a century (nor any other to be honest) and I was shocked – positively shocked. Firstly, this library is busy, which may be a function of other things to do in Elgin, but I think not. The Library staff function both as Librarians and also the local Tourist Information Officers. Earlier, I asked about Distillery Tours (I know, this is starting to look like a fascination – and so it is)! I was shocked to find that they had an expert on hand and a young librarian collected information and then put his own personal tough on it, but endorsing a tour of the Glenn Moray Distillery (conveniently close by).

And so with such a glowing recommendation – it would have been rude not to have gone and done the tour (which I have now done did with 4 friends from the crew – see later section on “The People of Tonic). Before doing the tour, I sat upstairs in the “Resources” center and admired this hive of activity while knocking out some e mails and researching a few things. It does seem to me that Scotland is much better organized to help its people and it brands it regions in a proud way, not a commercial way, like England. There seems a more obvious sense of community and a real presence of being in Europe (which they are about not to be – may be). There is evidence everywhere of things being funded by The European Commission of WHATEVER. In England – the funding probably came from the National Lottery (which clearly some people see as being the same is Europe).

The tour was very instructive and a great hit with my new Swiss friends, Oli and Yvonne (not really – it’s Ivan – pronounced Yvonne though). They turned out to be the stars of the crew in the week they were with us – more to come later on this very modest loving couple.
The trip to Elgin was rounded out with a walk about the town center, lunching at a “zippy” Belhaven formula pub and a bus ride back to Lossiemouth. The bus return bus ride made me sad – not because I was returning to the boat – but because of an incident getting on the bus. Remember the lady from the bus shelter in Lossiemouth? She got on my bus coming here – can of beer and roll up cigarette? We’ll she coincidently tried to get on my return bus – looking even more jaded and drunk. This time the bus driver refused to let her ride without paying a fare. “Right too” was the attitude of my fellow passengers who laugher and looked at each other each time she tried to get on. It was clear she had no means of paying her fare and so she was ejected from the bus, three times (she had resolve). This was a very sad scene and I watched it play out and sat realizing I had a pocket full of change that could have resolve the issue and I hadn’t moved. I was very disappointed in myself. Bernadette and I long ago resolved to always try and help people in the streets who clearly deserved a hand up. Luckily for me, the opportunity presented itself when we had to get off the bus we were sat on when it was declared out of service (knackered) and we moved to the bus next to us. Annie, the drunken lady was ever present(I knew her name because she was known to the bus inspector who came to supervise the transfer over and he called her out and told her not to get on the bus). I pushed a small note into her hand and told her “that’s for your bus fare – not for a bevy”. A young guy saw me doing this and told me I was ridiculous. It made my blood boil. I told him it wasn’t and he should mind his own business. I was sad that it took me so long to do something so simply done in the end. I was mad that the folks around me were clearly lacking in any humanity at all – and I had become one of them for a while and I was really sad to think there was no obvious avenue for this poor woman to have a normal life. I have no idea what her circumstances are or what led to her present state – but whatever it was – it was sad, not ridiculous.

The following day was incredibly hot and sunny and nice. I said goodbye to John the copper as he dashed to get his early bus and start his long journey back to the Midlands. I was sad to see him go – he was a character and a nice man. He provided balance and he was funny! He was happy to be the butt of other people’s jokes and ride them out. I said goodbye to the other departing crew members (Oli and Ivan), welcomed the new crew member (Peter and Graham) and prepared the boat for our late evening departure for the long haul down the Scottish coast and over into English waters and to the beauty of the Northumbrian Coast line. 

More to come of the storms and incidents we were about to face!

Pip pip 

N