Wanderlust

Wild woman of Borneo

2009-02-27T09:11:00.005Z

It's been a while since I last posted, I know I'm slack. What can I say other than when you're traveling the desire to sit down at a computer and type up a bunch of random thoughts really doesn't hold my appeal. Especially when you can be on the beach or by the pool. But it is my duty to keep you informed of my escapades (or lack there of) while on the road to nowhere.

My most recent wanderings have seen me in the wilds of Borneo. Ok, that's a lie, Borneo isn't so much wild anymore as dirty, a bit 3rd world in places and full of insects. Like most places on this small blue planet it too has been tamed.

I started my journey in Kota Kinabalu, or KK as it is known to locals, the capital of Sabah. It's an interesting mix of the new and modern and some peculiar architectural quirks that make sense if you're a local. To the casual observer or the western eye brought up on council estates and housing developments many of the buildings look like the ghettos of London or many American cities. Venture into them though and you find a thriving community hidden in shade from the interminable heat of the sun.

It was here that I joined a tour group, my only one for this trip and more than likely going to be the last ever for me. The group was relatively small, nine people in total with an average age somewhere around 30. Our guide was an affable Malay called Hairy, who by the end of the trip I was thoroughly sick of.

We only had a short time in KK before heading for the highlands and the climb up Mt Kinabalu, the highest peak between PNG and the Himalaya. Before we attempted the climb we stayed in a mountain village, Kiau, with the local people. Part of the custom for guests is to share the homemade rice wine, a pungent mixture of yeast, rice and water. It's pretty horrible to drink and gives a stinking hangover, not that many of the locals had a hangover the next day. They were all still drunk having partied it up throughout the night. Some of them were to be our guides on the mountain and we sincerely hoped they sobered up before they came to take us up the mountain.

Mt Kinabalu, at 4,095.2m is small in the scheme of things, but tell that to the 69 people who attempted the climb to the summit the same day we did. 15 people dropped out, our group all made it but not without some feeling the effects of altitude. I was lucky for once my asthma didn't come out to play and I made it to the top, first from our group. Coming down though was another matter and my knees gave out about half way down and I had to limp down the mountain determined to make it to the bottom before night.

The climb takes two days for most people, though the record for climbing up and down is about 2hr 45 minutes. None of us could have done that! On the first day it took us six hours to get to Laban Rata where we spent the night. The last hour of which was in driving rain and particularly miserable. With little in our packs to save on weight we had few dry clothes to change into and the showers were cold. By 6pm most of us were flagging and with a 1am wake up call we headed to bed early.

At 1am the place was alive as all the climbers prepared to make the last 2.7km assent in darkness. The aim is to be at the summit just before dawn to witness the light as it spreads over the valleys below. The ascent is slow and difficult, ropes mark the way and you're happy you can't see what's below as you climb ever higher into the thinning air. If you manage to take a moment and turn around you can see the lights strung out along the valleys like fairy lights on a tree, but you have to push on, one foot in front of the other.

At the top it was crowded and as soon as I stopped I became very cold. The clouds were already coming in and threatening rain for the day so at 6am as the sun rose behind me I started my decent. It was to take me a total of about eight hours to make it to the bottom with only a break for breakfast at Laban Rata and another couple of short breaks on the way down.

I was glad to be heading for the hot springs at Poring to rest my weary bones.

Post Script:
When I can get the time I'll upload some photos but right now I've no access so you'll just have to wait.

Catching up

2009-01-07T00:22:00.009Z

I can’t believe that I’ve had two months of unemployment already, it seems like only yesterday that I was packing up my flat and bidding my former work colleagues adieu. While I haven’t done the sailing I wanted to do I have done quite a lot else, and I will get back to sailing some time in the future – amazing when you consider the conditions I did my first blue water sailing in.

When we left Vila Real de Santo Antonio in Portugal there was no hint of the weather to come. The wind was light as we motored out through the mouth of the river early on Saturday morning (22 November 2008). We were two boats of two and we were to sail a course of 219 degrees towards the Gran Canaria.

We started our shift pattern straight away; it was to be three hours on and three hours off 24 hours a day for the next seven days. The first 36 or so hours were quiet, Chuck could steer if a little sloppily and apart from sticking my head up regularly to look for ships, I could lie back and take in the waves. During this time I had a lot of time to think and I started to miss my family and think about my Mum. I decided when we got to the Canaries I was going to sort out going back to Australia for Christmas instead of sailing on to the Caribbean.

Vaquero, our little 32ft yacht, wasn’t in the best of shape as she’d spent a lot of time in the Guatemalan jungle not being looked after. Keith had spent a considerable amount of time fixing another boat and when he bought Vaquero he simply wanted to set sail again. Our VHF radio didn’t have a very big range, the bilge pump would go on the blink, the stove was a normal domestic gas stove and didn’t swing on the gimble very well, but she was sea worthy and kept us both alive when we hit the rough stuff.

A couple of days out the weather came from the North West and we began to get more wind combined with a serious swell. I don’t think I’d ever seen a swell quite like it, not even off Bass Strait where I grew up. When below deck I was thrown around so much I got some serious bruising, when above deck I had to be in full wet weather gear as the waves rolled over the deck as they went by.

Here is the evidence!

I still have no idea if the clamping in my stomach was seasickness or fear for I never threw up. I simply had no appetite and my stomach refused to let me eat for most of the time at sea. The waves were huge (around 20ft) and I had to hang on and strap myself in with my harness so as to not be lost overboard. I was becoming convinced that the old sailors superstitions of not having a woman on board were accurate and that Neptune had taken a serious dislike to me thinking I could cross the Atlantic.

On day four the wind was so bad we had to put up the storm jib and trysail, still we were doing over 5 knots over land (about 6.5 through the water which was the maximum Vaquero could do). By this stage I was starting to get use to the rolling and I could see the end of my ordeal was nigh, the GPS was ticking off the nautical miles. I was setting myself goals to get through each shift; I’d give myself a target of how many miles I could travel in three hours – 15 was the target.

It was on one of these shifts when I’d wrapped myself up in my boots, overalls, jacket, and beanie and had my hood up that something broke. Keith’s voice came up from below deck “What broke?” I hadn’t heard anything as my ears were covered and the wind was howling around me, “I can’t see anything” went the reply. His head popped up through the companionway and looked around and he quickly spotted a broken stay. Not very happy he was going to come out without any of his gear on to fix it.

By this time I was tired and grumpy and just shouted at him to stay below, give me the tools and watch me in case I fell overboard. I went forward and screwed the stay back together while the waves rolled up onto the deck at my feet. For me it was a tense couple of minutes while I worked out which way the thread on the bolt went. The boat was on an angle and I was on the low side, if it weren’t for the harness and safety rope and a bit of balance I was looking at a very cold and watery grave lapping at my ankles.

After this little adventure things started to settle down and the weather eased overnight. By the next morning we were becalmed and had to motor. It was an opportunity to catch up with our companion vessel and cook some proper food. The last day and night were spent motoring and I could finally get out the camera and take some photos.

As we’d been motoring for some time it was also an opportunity to have a much-needed shower. I’d been living on board for three weeks and the last time I had showered had been two weeks previously. My hair was lank and I’d pretty much been living in my thermals since we left the river. I was desperate to feel clean and wash my hair. That shower in the tiny area set aside for the head was the best shower I have EVER experienced. There are no words to describe how wonderful it was to feel clean again.

We eventually motored into Las Palmas on Saturday morning, a week after we’d set out from Portugal. For hours before we arrived I could see the lights of the city and kept a steady course towards them. My first steps on land were strange, I found myself rolling as though I was still at sea. The guys had told me stories of people who found they were land sick after being at sea and I could understand why. It was the most peculiar feeling and took a week to subside completely. I would wake up in bed on land and feel the waves rolling beneath me.

And so the adventure begins (and ends?)

2008-12-02T18:59:00.004Z

It's been a while since I blogged and a lot has happened. Here's a brief run down:

Finished work on 3 November
Spent a few days with friends Mike, Ree and Georgina before flying to Madrid.
Spent a few days in Madrid with my friend Paul, where a stomach bug laid me low for 24 hours.
Spent 12 hours travelling from Madrid to the south of Portugal to meet the skipper of the yacht I was to sail on.
Sailed from Vila Real de Santo Antonio in Portugal to Las Palmas, Gran Canaria
Flew back to Blighty.

Three weeks in total from leaving the UK to setting foot back in Edinburgh. It's been a roller coaster and I've met some great people, more of which I'll fill you in on in coming days.

So why am I back, I hear you ask? Well a number of reasons really. By the time I got to Las Palmas I found I had a number of loose ends that needed tidying up back in the UK and I'd had a lot of time to think.

During an ocean going passage with only two people on board you have to keep watch 24 hours a day, that meant we did three hour shifts at a time. When the weather was good and we could let Chuck steer (Chuck was the aries steering device) I could lie back and watch the Atlantic go past and think. It was the first time I'd had to slow down in months and I found myself reassessing life. Two days in (before the really bad weather his us) I'd found I was missing my family and just wanted to be home for Christmas.

A day or so later the bad weather really hit us and my decision seemed really sensible. We had waves coming at us from all directions and it became very unpleasant. Combined with the fact that I hadn't showered in almost two weeks and if I'd seen land, I would have got off and swam.

So now I'm heading home to Australia to spend some time with my family. I've booked some time in Asia to keeep me from going mad and will just see how things pan out.

A rolling stone gathers no moss

2008-10-26T21:01:00.002Z

After weeks of uncertainty I finally completed the sale of my flat on Friday, and what a relief that is. My furniture has been given away and my goods and chattels put into storage at my mates place in Galloway. All that's left to go is my car, which will be going to Galloway too in three weeks.

I drove past the flat on Saturday after a day of hitting the shops for a few of the things I need for my journey. It was a strange feeling to think "there's my flat" and not be able to go in anymore, while also being hopeful about what the future will bring.

My plans have changed somewhat since I wrote of my intended route across Siberia some weeks ago. I have managed to find someone with a yacht who is sailing from Gran Canaria to Trinidad & Tobago at the end of November. The sun wins out over snow and hypothermia every time I'm afraid!

I should be daunted by the prospect of sailing a 32ft yacht across the Atlantic but the thrill of the adventure means that everyone's well meaning cautions get lost in my head. Of course I'm concerned for my safety, but I could as easily be hit by a bus on Princes Street tomorrow as fall off the back of a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic ocean.

There is only one thing I am certain of; my life will never be the same again...

Necessity is the mother of all invention

2008-10-16T21:05:00.002+01:00

I cannot believe how stupid I have been. For the last three years I've believed my dishwasher to be broken. As it's just me I've never bothered to replace it or get it fixed.

It's taken the sale of my flat and a request from the purchaser to be shown how everything works to actually investigate why the damn thing doesn't work. I feel quite foolish not to have worked it out before.

After pressing various buttons, which all light up, closing the door and listening to the water pump churn to no effect I thought about looking behind the machine. After removing the kick board and pulling the thing out from it's home under the bench I found the water pipe had a kink which was preventing water getting through.

It seems when my washing machine was plumbed in that the handyman put a kink in the pipe preventing water getting through and the machine from working.

Three years it's not worked, three years I a simple look under the sink would have sorted it out. It took selling the flat for me to do something about it.

My head hurts

2008-09-29T18:19:00.002+01:00

The problem with having options is knowing which one to take. As a child I hated the choose your own adventure books. I always wanted to know what the consequences of my choice were before I made it. To save myself the pain of making the wrong choice I'd look ahead and work out which one appealed most and then take that path. In so doing the surprise was taken out of everything.

I wish now, like in childhood, I could just skip ahead and find out which road leads me not into the path of a two headed gorgon but to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Unfortunately life isn't like that and I must instead make my choices on the basis of the information available to me.

Today my head was filled with information about job hunting. As part of my redundancy package my employer offers the services of an outplacement company. Not one to turn down an opportunity I'm using the services to get my CV and job hunting skills up to scratch before I go off into the wilds. My aim is to have all my stuff sorted so that when I do decide to come back into the world of employment I can go straight into it.

My head now hurts as a result of all the things I now have to think about to make sure I'm well prepared. On top of that I'm in the process of selling my car and looking at putting my flat on with a rental agent. The market for property sales is so slow as to be almost non-existent so I'm trying to get my head around agents fees, rental prices, emptying the flat, moving dates, and the list goes on.

Frankly the fact that I still have to go into the office is a distraction I could do without!

I've been remiss

2008-09-21T08:49:00.002+01:00

I'm sorry, I've been very slack in my entries recently but that's what happens when life just seems to roll on by you. I've been continuing to plan my journey, strangely in reverse order and now I think I have my route from the UK to Australia planned. The next step is to work out where I require visas and which ones I need to get in advance.

The plan is to travel from Edinburgh to London and then on via Eurostar to Brussels. From there I'll head east to Germany, Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia and St Petersburg in Russia (with maybe a few detours into places like the Czech republic). From here I'll pick up the Trans Siberian railway and head for Vladivostok in the far east where I'll get on a ferry to Japan.

From Japan I'll take another ferry to China and then onward south to Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Malaysia. If possible I'd like to see Myanmar but that will depend on the political situation when I get to Thailand.

From Malaysia I'll take the bus to Singapore and then ferry to Indonesia where I'll island hop my way to Dili in East Timor. In East Timor the plan is to get on the weekly Perkins freighter to Darwin which I need to do a bit more investigation on.

My gut tells me it's going to take me about six months to get to Darwin as I want to stop and spend time in each country seeing things. This isn't a whistle stop tour of Europe and Asia.

In with all this planning I'm supposed to be doing my outplacement stuff for finding a job. It's just I can't find the motivation to do it at present. I often seem to bite off more than I can chew and this may be a classic example of that.

Ah well, only thing to do is keep going.

Help fund me

2008-09-03T22:37:00.002+01:00

To help fund my trip round the world (as I'm loath to go down the path of finding a sugar daddy) I've added Google ads to my blog. If you see one that interests you please click it as I will then receive revenue to help keep me in rice (and beer) for the next year.

Denial is not a river in Egypt

2008-09-01T21:56:00.001+01:00

It is a state of mind.

In a moment of clarity I admitted today that the speed with which I returned to work following Mum's death was probably not helpful to me, or if I'm honest, to those around me. The idea of taking some time out is making me look at life through different eyes. Over the last few days I've been looking back at the past months and realising that I've been in denial about a lot of things.

My haste to return to work and the UK was me denying the effect that the months of caring for my mum had on me. Beginning a new relationship, even though it was a welcome distraction and is now missed, was also a reaction to my loss. There's a gap, now I must fill it was my driving mantra and still is.

All this activity was and is a denial of the fact I have suffered a major loss and a life changing experience which has been profound in it's effect. For months now I have pushed memories of the last months, weeks and days of Mum's life from my thoughts in an effort to show the world I'm coping.

The truth is a long way from the mask I show the world. In moments on my own I often find my eyes becoming hot with tears which roll down my cheeks unbidden. That denial has turned itself into a white hot anger which has no aim and falls like lead shot on anyone who mistakenly gets in it's way.

It's not how I want to be, nor is it particularly healthy. With little focus of it's own, my anger has become directed at the thing which most often causes rancor, work. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty to get annoyed about on a daily basis at work, but the explosive reactions are not justified. The problem is I just don't know how else to deal with these feelings which will not subside.

I do some form of physical exercise everyday in an attempt to wear myself out and raise my endorphin levels. This alone does not seem to be working. At the end of the day I still find myself restless and my mind will not be quiet. I can not sit still for more than a few minutes, my mind a constant whirring of cogs and sprockets connected to a hair trigger.

I guess I just have to float down that old river until it spits me out in the ocean.

Colour me pink and call me Stupid

2008-08-27T20:00:00.001+01:00

Why has no one ever told me I have naive stamped on my forehead, for I do, I truly do. This week confirmation of my ingenuousness came to me via that wonderful modern creation, the Internet.

Surfing the web for my trip I came across another website for hooking up potential crew members with boat owners for the purposes of sailing. This one is free to join, members post a profile with some information about themselves, their sailing experience and when they are available. Boat owners do the same for their boat. Both parties can then search and contact each other.

I followed the instructions and put a bit about myself and what kind of sailing I was looking to do. The site also suggested that profiles which included pictures were usually the most successful, so I duly posted a photo. Ever since my mailbox has been inundated with salty sea dogs contacting me to see if I'm interested in joining them to sail. The reaction I've had to my profile makes me feel like I stumbled across an alternative dating site and it's not really for sailing but for 'hooking up'.

All the emails I've been sent have been from blokes, usually looking for a female who enjoys sailing and 'possibly more' and all much older than me. Not what I had in mind and I'm a bit frightened to open my mailbox now in fear of what I'll find.

When I told my friend Jane of my internet adventures she asked if I'd posted a photo, and on hearing I had suggested that really they had all been looking at my skills and reasons for wanting to go sailing, not my photo. She suggested I post a photo of a hound instead and see what reaction I got.

This is the photo I posted:

Maybe I should post something more like this:

In any case, I've suspended my membership until further notice. I think it's safer, don't you?

Opportunities or distractions?

2008-08-24T14:17:00.005+01:00

This week I had to think really hard about what I want when an opportunity was put in front of me out of the blue. An old friend got in touch and was looking for an expat for a job in the Middle East. The job sounded great and the timing couldn't have been better in terms of my life here in Edinburgh.

On reflection though, too often I find myself distracted by the interesting things that are thrown in my path and end up taking a different direction to the one I thought I was going to take. This serendipity has until now been an OK way to live my life, but I found this week that not all opportunities need to be taken there and then, sometimes they can become distractions.

Thinking about the manic activity of everything an overseas move entails and the comedown when I stop to draw breath made me realise that all I would be doing is displacing my grief yet again. In the end I said no, thank you, I wouldn't be applying on this occasion. I need to take the time I've planned for me, to find who I am again now my life has changed so significantly.

My journey will be just that, an odyssey of the mind and body where the destination is not the goal. I want to reconnect with who I am at my core and what it is I truly want out of life. I must learn to listen to my own inner voice again and my intuition. I need to learn to stop and smell the roses. Opportunities will present themselves again, but there shall be no more distractions.

Longing

2008-08-20T18:15:00.003+01:00

The Oxford English Dictionary defines longing as:

n. a strong wish to do or have something.

Longing is one of those words which I'm sure must confuse people who don't speak English as their first language. Long, the word is most commonly used to describe distance, not a state of being. But for me it most accurately describes my outlook on life.

In the present moment I long for many things, most of them unachievable.
I long to be somewhere else than I currently am.
I long to be free of the tyranny of being a wage slave.
I long for the innocence of youth and the simplicity of my childhood.
I long for my mother to be alive and I long for my ex to pick up the phone and let me know he's thinking of me.

But longing doesn't get us anywhere. As they say; if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. If I got my wishes who knows what madness would ensue.

Last night I had a series of dreams about my mum which left me feeling a huge sense of loss upon waking. I can't recall what it was the dreams were about, just that I was talking to her as if everything were as it was before she died. These memories make me long to be able to call and hear her voice. To be able to see her and smell her. To feel her arms hold me and tell me everything will be alright.

But life isn't like that and no amount of longing will change what is now, what has been and what is yet to come.

Writers block

2008-08-18T18:28:00.003+01:00

I'm having a moment of panic. There's nothing in my head but empty space, no witty observations, no rantings of a lunatic. Nothing.

Must...turn...off...E!

Timing

2008-08-17T14:36:00.003+01:00

In life, as in many things, timing is everything. This week I've been pondering the events in my life that have led me to this place and time. I've been wondering about the decision I've made and it's impact on my future and the futures of those around me.

Like the theory goes a butterfly beating it's wings could result in a tornado half a world away, or the small deviation on a path that eventually leads you miles from your destination.

With this in mind I've been pondering my recently ended relationship and the impact that each of us had on the other. I wonder if the timing had been different that things wouldn't have worked out the way they have and I wouldn't be leaving. I even wonder if the timing will ever be right again? And if it were would the chemistry still work, or would a little of the magic be gone forever. Only time will tell.

I've also been wondering about my journey and where to make for first. The time of year will have a big impact on where and how I travel. I'd love to take my bike with me and start in Europe, but the likelihood is that it will be winter in the northern hemisphere when I start. I want to get as far from the cold and the wet as quickly as possible to recharge my batteries and energise myself again.

Let's just hope I get my timing right here on in...

Riding along on a push bike honey...

2008-08-11T21:17:00.006+01:00

When I noticed you...

Here's some photos from my bike ride to Dunfermline on Sunday.

The Almond River in full flow near Cramond Brig

The Forth Rail Bridge as seen from the Forth Road Bridge

Oh and to the wonderful and sensitive bridge workers who wolf-whistled at me as I rode past, thanks I really appreciate the sentiment. It's great to be riding along, up hill and get such encouragement.

16 miles of hills, puddles, rain and blazing sunshine and I finally made it to my destination. Where I was greeted with a cup of tea and a lot of biscuits.

Next aim is to ride there AND back.

Jane's little pussy

2008-08-08T22:04:00.002+01:00

Minds out of the gutter folks. This is Jane's new puddy cat.

I'm not crazy...

2008-08-07T23:23:00.002+01:00

Cargo ship travel is completely possible. It's technical term is Freighter travel and there are whole websites devoted to it!

Yes! I love it when a plan comes together....

Now I like penguins, but....

2008-08-07T20:00:00.003+01:00

You know you've made a good decision when people tell you:
a) they can't see a flaw in the plan
b) won't even attempt to talk you out of it
c) start making suggestions to help you in your mad plan

You know you haven't thought the whole thing through when a coffee conversation makes you realise you've missed something big.

A catch up with my friend Paul B today over coffee gave me the light bulb moment that in my dreaming I'd forgotten a big destination. So big in fact that I feel a little foolish. That's right folks I forgot that if I'm going to achieve my goal of touching EVERY continent and do it without flying that means I have to include Antarctica.

Physically it's possible, I can join expedition boats during the southern summer from South America, New Zealand or Australia, but frankly I'm not that keen on penguins. Which is about all I'd see there along with lots of snow. So maybe there will be a little revision to the plan so I don't have to eat my words (or seal blubber).

My other crazy ideas, like fulfilling a teenage dream of being a Jillaroo, are all being welcomed with great hilarity from my friends and colleagues. My (half joking) suggestion of being a chalet girl in Europe for the winter even got the thumbs up. I'm not sure who is crazier, me or my friends? I mean me, on skis? My fellow nomad and friend Paul A will be witness to the fact that that venture ended up in me spending an afternoon in a Swiss hospital and the rest of my trip mooching about Davos while he hit the slopes on his own.

While not all the ideas I'm coming up with will fly, the great thing about my situation is that once I have sold my possessions, packed up my life and left my job, I have no timetable to keep. I can go where I please, when I please and with who I please. I never have to return to the same spot twice and I can stop anytime and anywhere I wish (within reason of visa restrictions).

At present I'm particularly keen on the idea of spending an extended period on a yacht and seeing where the wind takes me. The appeal of sunny climes and relaxing just has a certain pull.

Anchors away...

Psst, wanna buy a flat?

2008-08-06T18:47:00.002+01:00

The selling agent came today to take photos and measurements of the flat. While I'm pleased with the results of my efforts to get it ready for its close up I am now knackered.

The cupboards are stuffed with things that are normally out on display and it doesn't quite feel like its my home anymore. I guess that's part of the process of selling a place, to let it go emotionally.

The good news is that they valued it around the £130K mark, which means more money in my pocket if I can achieve that price. It's better than I had anticipated considering the market at present. Now all I have to do is get the buyers through the door....

FAQs

2008-08-05T19:55:00.002+01:00

Over the last week I've had a number of questions asked repeatedly. So I can stop answering the same questions time and again I'll be adding them to this post.

If you have a burning question just add it to the comments and I'll answer it here for you.

Did you really decide to do this in 24 hours? No, less than that. After a night of no sleep (the reasons for which I'm not going to go into here but keep your minds out of the gutter) I came home from work on the day we were told about the potential redundancies. After a couple of hours snoozing I woke and the solution had come to me.
Where are you going to go? I have no idea yet. All I know is that I am going to start from Edinburgh and make my way round the world.
Why are you selling your flat and not renting it instead? I've been intending to sell it for a while. I don't want to have to come back to anything if I don't have to. It makes the break with Edinburgh easier if that is what this is to be.
Are you going to come back to Edinburgh? I have no idea. As the ~~crazy~~ ~~mad~~ adventurous gal you know and love I may just end up anywhere. The likelihood is that I will return to the UK, beyond that I don't know, anything is possible.
Can I come too? No, only those with an invite can come and meet me in far flung places. I'm picky about who I travel with. ~~Fools~~, ~~the seriously deluded~~, potential travel buddies can email me on the address provided in the side bar.

Bowling for toffee

2008-08-04T20:12:00.000+01:00

As in can't, bowl for toffee that is.

Here for your amusement are the scores from last night's bowling efforts with Vix and Paul.

Yes that's right kids, I got the low score of 70. Ms Vix got the 106 and Paul the 108.

Luckily there are no incriminating photos of the dance mat havoc...

Raison D'etra

2008-08-03T09:17:00.000+01:00

I guess I should give some background about why I've made the decision to take a year or so out to go traveling. To many of my nearest and dearest it seems a very sudden decision and out of character, but if I share with you a slice of my life you may just understand.

In October 2004, late one Saturday night I received a phone call from my Dad. He never calls me so I knew something was wrong. Mum was in St Vincents, Melbourne after having a seizure at home and Dad was ringing to tell me they had found a brain tumor.

She had been experiencing blinding migraine like headaches for some time and the doctor had put it down to just that, migraine. Mum had never suffered from migraine before and this should have been a trigger for the doctor to question further. Mum trusted him though and just got on with things until the afternoon she got another headache and decided to go lie down. Dad and my brother Nick were in the house, so luckily Dad was with her when she started to fit.

They flew her to Melbourne to stabilise her and do an MRI, where they found the tumor. It was a menengioma, supposedly the best type to get as they are usually easy to remove and benign. Mum's was neither benign nor easy to remove and over the next three years she became more and more ill with subsequent relapses until January 2008.

During this time I was having a hard time at work. I was doing a stressful and unrewarding job for a boss who I felt took advantage of me and failed to support my work. I was traveling backwards and forwards to Australia every six months or so and it was beginning to take it's toll. I had been refused a secondment into another department and after placing a complaint about my boss was instead moved to work with another manager. By January I was starting to settle into a new role and feel happier in my job with the support of my new manager.

A few days after New Year 2008 I called home and spoke to Dad. Mum was OK but the left side of her face had started to droop and he was concerned. They had an appointment with her surgeon the next day and some of Mum's friends had recommended Dad pack an overnight bag as the likelihood was that they would end up back in Melbourne for more tests. The friends were right and Dad drove Mum to Melbourne to see the surgeon again in the afternoon of the same day. She was sent for an MRI which showed the tumor was back and more aggressive than before. Mum was at the end of the road.

I returned to Australia a few days later to spend the last few weeks of Mum's life with her and helping out my Dad. It's one of the toughest things I've ever had to do. If you can imagine having to wash, clothe, and feed your parent as they slowly become someone you don't recognise you might be getting close to what I experienced.

The tumors in Mum's brain were growing around her cerebellum and pressing on the auditory nerves. This meant that she progressively went deaf and communication became very difficult. For a time she was able to read our conversations on a white board a friend had loaned to us, but even that became and effort in the end.

I lost huge clumps of hair as a reaction to the stress I was under, even getting two little bald patches which now have short hairs about 3 cm long growing out of them. I had dark circles and huge bags under my eyes and my mental health suffered too. During this time I discovered by accident that I had a half brother who had been born to my mother before she had met my father. This further complicated what was already an incredibly stressful time in my life.

While I loved my mother dearly the daily grind of being stuck in the house and unable to leave eventually got to me. I asked the nursing staff, who came each week, to support me in getting some respite care and convince Dad that it was the best thing to do. With their help I was able to convince Dad to place Mum into Cobram District Hospital. The nurses there were expecting us at some stage as this was where Mum was to be cared for in the final stages of palliative care anyway.

As it turned out the day we took Mum in was the last possible day we could have moved her on our own. She deteriorated to the point of requiring a lifter just a day later and had a major fall out of bed the second night she was in the hospital. The nurses felt awful about the fact she had the fall, but it was just a symptom of how ill she was. Her balance was completely gone and yet she still thought she could do things for herself. She was now a danger to herself.

A couple of days later she was moved to the palliative care suite. This was a lovely area where Dad and I could also stay overnight to be with her. On the night before Mum died, three weeks after we had first taken her in, it was my turn to stay. I sat with Mum for a couple of hours from about 4am after her breathing became very laboured and she was given a morphine nebuliser. By the morning she was in a coma and I contacted the rest of the family to let them know that we were very close to the end.

I wasn't with Mum when she died but Dad was. A small fact I am very glad of. I did all I could for her. To this day I can remember helping the nurses wash and prepare her body for collection. The nurses talking quietly to Mum, telling her what they were doing as they prepared her for her last journey. I don't know if it was for my benefit, but I suspect they do it as much for themselves as the family and the dead. Their own way of coping with the loss of someone they have come to know.

From the time I left the UK to my return it was about three months and my life was turned upside down. I had ended a relationship which for me was unsatisfactory, I was making him miserable and I couldn't cope with my own needs and his. I don't regret the break-up, just the way I did it. I could have handled it better and spared him some of the hurt.

I returned to work just two weeks after my mum's death and tried to rebuild some semblance of normalcy in order to deal with my loss. In the time I had been away my department had undergone some major changes and I had to get my head round a lot of change in a short space of time.

In the midst of all of this I found myself starting a new relationship with someone who is lovely but has their own issues to deal with. Due to my own experiences I can accept his need for space, it makes me sad but I can live with it. Not one to let grass grow under my feet I don't feel I can wait round for something that might never happen though.

Last week all of these factors came to a head, and so what seems like a fairly rash decision on my part, to go forth into the world and travel for a year, is actually the confluence of a number of events. The company I work for has given me the golden ticket to allow me the opportunity of a lifetime. I would be stupid not to grab it with both hands and run with it. One of my first loves is travel and the last four years have meant that all my funds have gone into travel to Australia.

It seems I have four months in which to execute my plan of attack. Four months which I am going to put to good use. Life is not a dress rehearsal, nor is it for the dead. I plan to make the most of the one life I have and learn to live in the moment again.

The first step on the road

2008-07-29T23:30:00.000+01:00

Today I was given a choice; take voluntary redundancy, apply for a new role or wait and take compulsory redundancy. I've decided to take the first option and look for greener pastures. This blog is going to be my diary of the next however long as I make my way to taking an adult gap year.

I've had the most awful three years anyone can imagine. I lost my mother to brain tumor in April of 2008 and have been going round with my head up my backside.

In the aftermath of my mother's death I started a relationship with a lovely bloke who I have fallen in love with. The problem is that he's getting divorced and like most blokes can't cope with it all. Instead of waiting round to see what he decides and getting my heart trampled on any further I've decided to take this opportunity to go and see the bits of the world I've not yet got to.

At 32 I'm fairly old to be doing this. When most other people are settling down to have their kids and pay off the mortgage I've decided to pack it all in and put my home on my back. I may get tired and weary of it after 2 days. I may fall in love with the romance of the road. Whatever comes I will be sharing it with you.

Get ready for a roller-coaster ride.

Tomorrow: contact solicitors to sell the flat....

Lists, lists and more lists

2008-08-02T17:38:00.001+01:00

I think I've taken myself a bit too seriously with this idea of military precision and gone into list overload. There's the list for selling the flat, the list for selling the car, the list for what I need to take with me on my travels. I haven't even got to the list of potential destinations and vaccinations I'm going to need.

Can anyone say 'Obsessive compulsive'?

One thing I have resolved since Thursday is just how I can get round the world and across some of those vast oceans that were slightly worrying me. I have to admit I was contemplating spending a few months on a cargo ship if need be (it may still be required but I'll leave that under "Break in case of emergencies").

A map is only so good to someone like me. I'm a spatial person, so when I saw Jane's globe it gave me an idea. I can get from Asia/Europe to the Americas via Siberia. The distance between the two is only two and a half miles at one point. My research so far has thrown up a few other people who have attempted this, mostly by 4x4 and with differing levels of success. It seems the roads in that part of the world aren't great and then there is the small issue of corrupt officials and the fact that there are no commercial boats that take that route.

I think I'm going to have to put my thinking cap back on for this one...

Up the creek without a plane?

2008-07-31T20:39:00.000+01:00

Today's brilliant idea came to me courtesy of Duncan Carroll, a sailing buddy. He suggested I take a look at the Crew Seekers website and think getting some sailing in on my year off. Having taken a look I wondered if it would be possible to get myself around the world without setting foot on a plane?

This is now my challenge, I must touch every continent and I must do it without flying.

After setting myself this task I remembered some of the dangers. After checking the International Maritime Bureau's website for the latest stats on piracy I may want to rethink my approach. The South China Sea is a particularly busy spot for pirates and to get from the Indonesian archipelago to Australia may be a little tricky. Then there is the Pacific Ocean. Hmmm, some thinking required.

I also realised that I'm going to have to get all my jabs done too. I can't just rock up to any old place and not have my inoculations now can I? Then there is the malaria tablets to think of. What have I got myself in for?