A One-way ticket
2 August - Home - Guernsey
It is a surreal feeling, booking a one-way ticket. Especially so for someone like me, because it sits so at odds with who I am. Or, at least, at odds with the person I have become in more recent years. I have a good job, a beautiful home, and a loving family. So why am I about to leave that all behind?
Something shifted in me when I was out in the Caribbean earlier this year. Finally, I was doing something that I wanted to do. It was the first time in as long as I can remember that I did not run from the mere thought of doing what I actually wanted to do because of what other people might think or because my family would worry. I was doing something for me.
And, as a result, I could think. It was the most clarity of thought I’d had for the best part of two decades. Which made it easy to write.
It begun as a series of short daily updates about life onboard Argonaut during the Caribbean 600 race, written for friends and family. That was, until the race media team picked up these little snippets and ran with them, sharing our little adventure with the Royal Ocean Racing Club’s 117,000 Instagram followers. We built up a cult following and (much to our amusement!) the Royal Ocean Racing Club started featuring stories about life onboard Argonaut alongside updates on the big boys!
After we crossed the finish line, I stopped writing those daily updates. And I regret that. Because our fun did not stop when the race was over - if anything, I think we had even more fun together: exploring, being, becoming friends. But when I start to reminisce, those memories are more fuzzy - despite all the photos and videos we took. And in contrast, the times I wrote about - I can picture those as clear as day. I can hear Lieneke’s laugh. I can see James grinning in glee. Charles is simply in his element. Richard cracking open a cold beer. Sam and Ben are giggling to each other like schoolboys, goodness knows about what. Those weeks were amongst the best in my life. I didn’t want it to end.
So when I heard Charles was looking for a crew to sail to Antarctica, I was all in.
I might be young, but lived experience over the past few years has taught me this: life is too short and unpredictable not to live on my own terms.
Which is why, over the next four weeks, I need to pack up the last five years of my life. I need to decide which of my possessions to part ways with (rather difficult for me, as I am the sentimental type), which ones to put into storage, and which ones to bring on this adventure with me. Anyone who has ever moved house will know this is not a task to be underestimated. And that’s not to mention the vast amount of planning which lies ahead - from procuring kit which can withstand the roaring 40s and furious 50s, through to solving one of the final pieces of the permit puzzle: insurance.
Come September, Ben and I are flying out to Miami, where Argonaut is currently on the hard, undergoing a refit. We hope that, by the time we arrive, Argonaut will be back in the water and well on her way South. And we will join her at her next port, then continue hopping down the Caribbean side of Central America, before transiting through the Panama Canal to the Pacific. We plan to spend some time in Costa Rica on the Pacific side, before setting sail for the Galapagos. If we can tear ourselves away from the incredible wildlife, we will the undertake the longest and (likely) most challenging sail of our lives, with our next stop being the Southern-most tip of South America. After arriving in Patagonia, we plan to base ourselves there for three months. If we are granted a permit, we will cross the Drake passage to Antarctica. And from there? Who knows! There has been some talk of crossing the Atlantic to South Africa.
I am nervous. Scared. And feel guilty, knowing that my decisions will cause others to worry. But most importantly, I feel myself - more so than I have done in as long as I can remember. And I am excited. Not just for the thrill of sailing and exploring somewhere new, but the adventure of writing too.