Earlier this week, I was sorting through one of my old hard drives and I found a bunch of files from my old HD video camera. One of which, was a full 2min video of the exact same jump, but shot from the bridge. I had forgotten that at the time, when I went up to do the jump, I’d handed my camcorder to the tour guide to look after for me.
I bought this Moleskine specifically to chronicle my travels this past summer. As it stands, the book itself is only a little under halfway full and here I am about to begin a new adventure with my new colleagues at 1000heads.
What I’ll use this book for from now on I don’t know. But knowing me, no doubt I’ll try and share as much I can…
I haven’t been home in over two weeks. I miss my bed. Not for now.
The long summer of travel is drawing to an end (after a bonus Oxfam-related trip to the U.S.) and, this coming Thursday, I formally start at 1000heads. I’m told there’ll be plenty of travel involved but I imagine it won’t be anywhere near as intense as this.
It feels like I’ve been getting my hands dirty again.
You can only sit in an office and strategise for so long, sometimes you need to get there and just do it for yourself. Go out and learn a few things, rediscover why you love what you do so much and ultimatelyreset your point of view on the world.
This past summer I’ve been through the deserts of Africa, the mountains of Wyoming and glaciers of the French/Italian Alps. From baboons in Botswana to Zebra in Zimbabwe… I’ve been the luckiest man in the world.
The Sun is setting over London as we make our final approach. I need to draw this to an end. The deep red sky brings a warm smile to my face and I sigh.
At the time of writing, we’re all sat on the tarmac on flight LEAT509 waiting to depart to Antigua. Our plane is old school. It has propellers and as they start up outside my window, I’m reminded of my Mum’s old washing machine. I smile.
The winners Jon, Clare, Trevor and Al (joined by me and Sam) along with Captain Morgan, Shaun and Rob. Nine of us against ‘True North IV’, manned by some real experienced yachtsmen. We’re in it to win it and we’re not taking prisoners.
Our track looks like this:
Point A (near the top) is the start line and Point B (at the bottom) is the marker which we must sail around to come back again. Before the competition starts, the judge (on a separate boat – not pictured) raises a green flag signalling the start of a six minute countdown. It’s at this point the yachts start racing back and forth in front of the start line, jockeying for the best position and getting up enough speed for when those six minutes are up. 360 seconds later the judge raises a white flag and then the race really gets going.
It’s worth noting that in practice we had our starts nailed; passing the buoys at 6:01 over and over. On race day we did it againy taking the opposition by complete surprise; suddenly they were on the back foot and they knew it. We weren’t messing around.
For three of the seven legs we remained in the lead. Our hearts pounding. Ears out for commands from the Skipper, one eye on the next marker and the other on the competition closing in behind.
Somewhere into the fourth leg (it may have been as early as the third), Rob noticed something; the True North IV was gaining.
Now apparently, before the race today, several agreements were made about how it would be run. The main part of which we’ll come back to later butt the bit that matters most right now is that Rob and the Captain of the True North IV had a gentlemen’s agreement that they wouldn’t use a full skiff.
Well surprise surprise, when we looked up to see the True North IV suddenly gaining speed, there she was with a full skiff –
12 metre with just the main sail –
12 metre with skiff unfurled – see the difference?
Rob smiled, knowingly.
What they were doing wasn’t strictly against the rules (the judge had no idea about said agreement and therefore wasn’t about to disqualify anyone for using their yacht correctly), but you might have considered it to be a little unsporting. A fact reinforced by the sight of the opposing team placing their hands over their ears as they passed us to yells of “CHEATS! CHEATERS!”
Of course, the only real response was to unfurl our sail to its full extent and play them at their own game. So we did.
Whatever the result, it was nice to know that we pissed them off so much that they felt they had to throw everything that at winning. And win they did. But my God did we make it hard for them and my God was it a close finish…
On the final leg, with the Stars & Stripes still trailing, the True North IV made her final turns into shore to take the wind coming off the land. Like I said, we were trailing so we took a gamble. Being in second place – aka ‘last’ -Â means you really do have nothing to lose but everything to gain. In search of stronger winds, we turned the yacht out to sea.
It so very nearly paid off. By the time we crossed the finish line the finish line there were literally SECONDS in it. They beat us by HALF A BOAT length. I can’t tell you how exhilarating it felt to come that close to beating this professional and experienced team. Just magnificent.
Their boat was technically faster, apparently on one leg, their buoy was closer than it should’ve been, they had to use a full gib to catch us and they had probably the most experience 12 metre yacht captain in the world….
AND YET we still came that close to beating them. It feels now as it felt then, totally invigorating.
Later at the bar that evening, Rob tells us that today’s race was kind of a big deal for him. The night before he had called a meeting between our crew, the opposing crew and the race judge. They all agreed that the race today would be ‘for real’.
You see they race these boats day in and day out and could’ve quite easily made some decisions (that wouldn’t have been obvious to us), that meant they would’ve handed us the race. Rob, having trained us all week and seen how we respected the skill and the effort that went into it, insisted that this would be the case.
He told the rest of the staff that the race was to be exactly that.
No fudging it for anyone.
“Throw everything you’ve got at us.†he told them “Try and thrash us. If you do, it’ll be their fault. If you don’t, well then.. they’re awesome. Either way, these guys will not appreciate being handed the race and will know if you do…â€
Wow. What a guy. I for one am very glad he called it like that because, come the finish line, yes we came second – a very close second in fact. But we earned it.
—- End of Moleskine entry.
It’s with a tinge of sadness that I reach the end of the Caribbean notes like this. Rob, our 12 metre expert and pro, tragically passed away only two short months after we left. I wrote about it at the time and, if you’ve made it this far, it would mean a lot to me if you read ‘For Rob’ as well.
Thanks for reading. The Lucozade journals are at an end now, however the Moleskine itself is not. I’m going to keep writing up my entries as I go as, well, that’s what it’s there for.
I’ve not written here for a while. Most places we’ve been to this past summer have involved a lot of travelling. From one bed to the next, driving through Africa, riding across Wyoming or simply scaling mountains deep within the Alps. Believe it or not, these kinds of activities gave me a lot of free time to write and keep my journal.
However, for this trip – the fifth and final Lucozade Challenge of 2009 – we’ve been staying on ONE resort the WHOLE time. If I’m not up and at the Mac updating the Lucozade blog, then I’m out completing challenges with the winners. Every second I have here on my own, I’m uploading photos, editing videos etc etc… constantly online. No downtime with no connection, which means no journals in my moleskine
And so it is, we go home tomorrow and I’ve hardly written a thing.
Time flies huh?
On thing I must put down – Today. Has. Been. Epic.
Second entry today. We’ve arrived in St Maarten and I am happy. The reason? Yesterday I verbally accepted a role at 1000heads.
This is pretty big.
You see I left SpinVox with the full intention of going freelance for a while. Maybe start my own business etc… And so when I initially approached Mike Davison (MD @ 1000heads), it was about how I could help them out on a one, maybe two day a week basis.
However, upon meeting him – for the first time I might add – I knew it could lead to good things.
My decision making process is often quite intense and I never, ever do anything unless I am 100% certain it is the right thing to do. Yes, I take risks. Everyone does. But they are calculated ones and every possible outcome is noted and accounted for. Suddenly I remember I was chess champion at school. Makes sense.
I digress.
I met Mike after the Wyoming leg of the Lucozade Energy Challenges but before the Alps (challenges two and three respectively). In the time between those trips I had planned to try and work exactly what it was that I wanted to do. This of course didn’t happen and if anything my choices were muddied yet again. I blamed Mike for this. Entirely.
I thought. I worked for a bit and then I thought some more. All the while trying to work out where I should go next.
I met with Mike again.
As before, he and I spent most of the time talking about our mutual visions and beliefs on branding, community, word of mouth and crucially our respective futures. I told him I was still trying to work things out and also that he had made things much harder.
Mike was great. “Go. Enjoy the Alps.” he said. “Speak on your return.”
No call lights on this flight, we have to wave our hands to get the stewardesses’ attention, like school children. Heh. Star trek is on the film selection screen. In fact all the options are pretty damn good on this flight. But I’m drawn to Star Trek, again.
It is a great film.
I’m reminded of a clip I once saw with William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy —
Brilliant. It’s a nice thought as we approach our final trip. Our final Lucozade Challenge. Friendship is for life.
Altitude is a small problem. It takes 30-40mins to find your rhythm; breathing, walking, clambering etc… it’s hard. But when we make to the ice, things are easier. Well, I say easier. What I mean is, ‘less hard’ 😉
On thing is for certain, the view is stunning…
The big part of this challenge is being lowered down into a crevasse. Turns out the lowering part is the easy bit.
You can hear the glacier crack and move under your feet, the ground itself isn’t moving but the concerned looks on the faces of our Italian guides gives them away, it’s time to move. By the time we’re on our way back to camp, the clouds have moved in and finding the journey becomes just that little bit more precarious.
Hold hands lads, we don’t want to lose anyone out here…
Food poisoning. All of us. Wiped out for 24hrs. Eugh.
Today we were supposed to walk up to the next camp. A three hour hike taking in ice climbing, hills, glacier walking… none of this happened. Instead our keeper in Italy, Dee, organised a helicopter to fly us up at lunchtime. Reluctantly and somewhat lethargically we packed our things and made our way to the heli-pad.
All of us, in bits.
The flight itself was fantastic. There’s another photographer on this excursion, Alex, and he and I keep getting bundled together. In the ‘Helipos’ it was the same. The good part being our pilot gave us the full tour ’round and over Mont Blanc.
We arrive, walk to the lodge and collapse. All but two of us crashing out like we’ve never slept. Sam, who was especially ill the night before, sleeps through from 2pm to 6am the following day. He needed it. The rest of us? We made it to about 7pm before we began to stir. Downstairs we tried to eat. Telling jokes, trying to will ourselves better. There are others here, they’ve been out climbing. Lucky beggars.
Later, the energy levels are up. Not refilled totally but we are on the mend, at last. We spend the rest of the evening playing poker by candlelight.
I’ve not had time to do any writing as yet. We’re here, on the border of the French, Swiss and Italian Alps, looking up at Mont Blanc after a really, really intense couple of days. Yesterday, after flying in the 1hr 15mins from London, we were picked up from Geneva and drove through to Italy. I had no idea it was so close.
We walked for hours and climbed for a while too. Aside from a couple of smashed phones (my own N86 and an iPhone belonging to one of the winners), it was a good day. Intense, but good.
But that was just day one. Today, August 31st, has been one of the scariest days of my life. Being up there, in the mountains, some 3300m above sea level, with nothing but a single rope, a guide and your friends to keep you alive. It’s pretty hairy.
There was a bit, just after that I decided to cut. We stood there and just cried. Cried and cried and cried. The emotional intensity of it all. Completely overwhelming.
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