Plane: England -> South Africa
Plane: South Africa -> Zambia
Bus: Zambia -> Chobe River
Boat: Chobe River -> Botswana (for 45mins)
4×4: Botswana -> Chobe River
Boat: Chobe River -> Namibia
When we were told this challenge was to ride the Zambezi, all of the information we had been given (before our itineraries arrived), implied that we were to be staying in Zambia.
As it turned out, we were actually to spend the majority of our time in Zimbabwe. Not before however, we returned to Namibia for one night of relaxation at the Ichingo Chobe River Lodge, situated right on the banks of the Chobe River itself.
Tonight’s treat? Speedboat Safari.
I’ll hopefully get some good photos… I can’t believe how much I’m really enjoying this camera.
Today’s date is August 5th but I need to go back a bit and write up some things that have happened since July 24th. Friday July 24th to be precise. I woke up at the Upper Hideout, some 8500ft up in the Big Horn Mountains in Shell, Wyoming. I’d been without internet and mobile signal for the best part of four days and I was very much looking forward to getting back to civilisation.
I love my girlfriend very much and, aside from Sam making sure that she was cc’d into an email that he’d radio’d back to base, she hadn’t heard from me and of course, as anyone might be, I thought there might be a certain amount of worry. I had work to do; photos to upload, videos to edit, posts to submit but the emphasis, the excitement was all about speaking to my love.
So, at 10am that morning we saddled up for the last time and headed down the mountain. Taking in valleys, hills, canyons and viewpoints like such we had yet to see.
But the ride down is not why we’re here. It was the arrival back down below that is of interest. I dropped my steed at the barn and raced back to my room to jump online and get to work. I’m not entirely sure what order things happened but, upon opening my MacBook it became very clear that something had definitely happened.
But my plane is coming into land, damn. I’ll have to return to this another time.
Short entry I know, but I need to get a move on.
Today’s date is August 5th but I need to go back a bit and write up some things that have happened since July 24th. Friday July 24th to be precise. I woke up at the Upper Hideout, some 8500ft up in the Big Horn Mountains in Shell, Wyoming. I’d been without internet and mobile signal for the best part of four days and I was very much looking forward to getting back to civilisation.
I love my girlfriend very much and, aside from Sam making sure that she was cc’d into an email that he’d radio’d back to base, she hadn’t heard from me and of course, as anyone might be, I thought there might be a certain amount of worry. I had work to do; photos to upload, videos to edit, posts to submit but the emphasis, the excitement was all about speaking to my love.
So, at 10am that morning we saddled up for the last time and headed down the mountain. Taking in valleys, hills, canyons and viewpoints like such we had yet to see.
But the ride down is not why we’re here. It was the arrival back down below that is of interest. I dropped my steed at the barn and raced back to my room to jump online and get to work. I’m not entirely sure what order things happened but, upon opening my MacBook it became very clear that something had definitely happened.
But my plane is coming into land, damn. I’ll have to return to this another time.
Short entry I know, but I need to get a move on.
Lucozade Energy Challenge number three begins. It’s about 9pm at the time of writing, the plane is taxiing to the runway and we’re very nearly on our way.
The task this time round is white water rafting on the Zambezi river. First stop: Cape Town, South Africa. From there, onwards to Livingstone, in Zambia. After that? God knows.
Wherever we end up, I can not wait.
The challenge is different in oh so may ways from those that have gone before. First of all, this is the first challenge that we’ve had any official Lucozade presence with us. Sam and I both report into our respective agencies who, in turn, report into Lucozade/GSK. Their main contact there? A guy named Nick.
I first met Nick during the final stage of my interview process for the gig that I’m writing to you from now. An Aussie and all round nice chap, he’s a welcome addition to the team.
Speaking of ‘the team’ I’ve already mentioned Sam and I are back on the case, this time however we’ve been joined by four freshl graduates from Scotland. Kenny, James, Wullie and Stuart. All good lads and all, it would seem, on the trip of a lifetime. Our first video is already in the can and I think after a small amount of coaxing, they’ll be talking and playing up to the camera in no time at all. After all, the more personality and energy these guys have, the easier my job gets.
🙂
We’re flying over Brighton now, crossing the English Channel. At last my mind has found peace. I mentioned that this trip was different; we’ve had a longer gap between this and the the last. Ten days in fact.
262 new emails in my personal inbox.
178 in my work inbox.
Something has happened. A look, a search and lo, some rather vexed ex-employees have attempted to ‘blow the lid’ off the operations at SVHQ.
On retrospect, I’ll maybe look back and wonder why the company’s founder and masthead kept quiet throughout. For one normally so passionate, up front and inspirational – all was quiet.
Rather naively it would seem, I took it upon myself to get the fire out, fast.
Two seats back, in the middle of the plane, I spotted two empty rows of four. Heh. As soon as we were airborne and the seatbelt signs were switched off, we leapt to action and staked our claim on the free space. Nice.
I spent the entire flight stretched out and completely horizontal.
I also spent a long time in deep thought. Taking in the events of the last couple of days. Drifting in and out of sleep, dreaming of home.
See this is why I love flying: alone time, rest, thought and much relaxation. Hurtling through the sky, wrapped in 200 tonnes of metal at 600mph.
This thing worked FINE in Namibia. In fact, the photo above was taken and uploaded on the spot in the middle of the Namibian desert, this place in fact.
However, for some unknown reason, in the good ol’ US of A, it failed. Nothing. Nada. My glorious sock-rockin’ sat-phone, was… useless.
Which meant in turn, I was non-contactable for four days.
Say it again. Four days.
Say it one more time, and this time say it with me – out loud: Four. Days.
‘Liberating’ doesn’t quite do it justice.
At one point, we were sat by a lake some 10,000ft up, the air was thin, the horses were thirsty and the winners were discussing going for a swim. The sky was clear, the water freezing and the surrounding landscape, breathtaking.
Just pausing – for a moment – to take in what I was experiencing.
Four days with no signal. Four days in the mountains. Riding horseback every day, we rode down from 8500ft on the last day, Friday, and it took five hours.
I couldn’t tell you the total of how far we travelled or for how long. All I know is every day we were saddled up by 10am and we only got out again for lunch and then again at the end of the day for dinner and rest. I never thought I’d enjoy it so much.
Incredible really, incredible.
I wrote every day, trying to keep a personal journal as well as an official, Lucozade one is no easy task. But when there’s nothing to distract you except maybe the odd passing moose, you’d be amazed how one can focus the mind.
Perspective is a wonderful thing… and the view from here, is amazing. I know what things are important to me now. Not that I didn’t know before I guess.
But as I said, being up here sure does focus the mind.
One key thing that was an amazing constant throughout the Lucozade Challenges was that no matter what far flung corner of the world we found ourselves in, we always had an awesome, local guide to train us and look after us.
For the last challenge, yacht-racing in the Caribbean, we had this guy, Rob Brinkworth.
An Englishman through and through, Rob took great pride in telling us about the Stars and Stripes yacht we were to race, he’d been looking after the boats themselves for years. In the short time we spent on St Maarten, Rob educated us all in the ways of the 12-metre challenge, he made us feel confident enough to handle this multi-million dollar winner of a vessel and at the same time made sure that we respected his word and his skill as a fine seafaring yachtsman.
A fantastic teacher, I remember Rob expressing to us at the end of the week how much he had really enjoyed coaching us all in the science behind sailing and reminisced about his days as an instructor educating school teachers on how to sail, preparing them for a Summer of PGL (a UK institution set up for children to take part in activity courses, such as sailing). He had rediscovered his love of sharing knowledge and, as we left St Maarten at the end of the week, I sensed that maybe there might be change in his future.
Sadly, Rob died last week.
Struck down by an aggressive illness, his life was cut short before he could put any such plans into action.
I heard the news late yesterday afternoon. Al, one of the winners from the challenge, had stayed in touch with Rob after we left. After he told me I immediately started trawling through my files… The following video is put together from all the footage I took while under his tutelage.
Rob, this is for you mate:
While waiting for the video to export, I checked through my notes to clarify a few dates and I found this entry, the last one I made before we left the Caribbean –
Moleskine entry: September 16th, 2009
Race Day
“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…”
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 boy did we earn it.”
Good luck Rob, wherever you are.
Your friends, old and new, remember you well.
I’ve been in Helsinki for the past 24hrs so excuse me while I dig around in my video archive for something that I haven’t published here before…
What I’m about to share with you isn’t specifically ‘new content’ exactly, however it is something actually quite special and I hope you enjoy it.
Meet Stewart Reed.
Stewart, believe it or not, is a genuine cowboy who lives and on a ranch out in the small town of Shell, Wyoming.
One night in July, while we were camping up in the mountains (and after we’d watched the Sun go down), we stayed up late drinking whisky, sharing jokes, telling tales and, eventually – after some cajoling from the group, Stewart fetched his guitar out from the pickup and started to play…
There, up in the mountains, in the long dark silence… a real, live cowboy…Â singing.
It was magical.
This one, Wagon Wheel, is by far and away my favourite.
Give it 30 seconds or so before he gets going, after that – just enjoy…
whatleydude.com 