Our travels around the world by bike, barge, boat, camel or horse

Audio Book - NEW RELEASE - Win!

8/28/2015

"Of Foreign Build
From Corporate Girl to Sea-Gypsy Woman"

is now available in AUDIO

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*Several Kindle editions available for runner-up prizes*

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*Read an excerpt here*

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"“This book made me cry, laugh & quake in equal measure.”
“Read this & you’ll discover anything is possible!”

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Life on the Water With Cobs, Pens and Pepe Le Pew!

8/23/2015

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At Castelnaudary amid catching up with ourselves after a particularly busy run of visitors, we spent a few minutes watching the swans’ antics.

Around six o’clock each evening, the male swan (Cob) fluffed and preened and made a show out of his beautiful tail feathers. He formed a sturdy, fuller body and he tucked his fine head into his chest creating that classic curve in his neck.

Image courtesy of MrWildLife at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Pedaling deceptively quickly he glided straight for the female (Pen), beautifully coiffed and ready for action.

As soon as the demure Pen spotted the randy Cob, she turned tail and paddled rapidly in the other direction. But as she created a little distance between them, she’d slow down and wiggle her tail feathers in a rather charming and seductive way.

Image courtesy of Adam Hickmott at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Then they’d disappear under the bridge.

We imagined the Cob having the same voice as Pepe, the amorous French skunk that strolls around Paris in springtime. In his exaggerated accent he refuses to take no for an answer!

“Don’t you worry, my darling, I am coming to get you!” We mimicked the lovely French tones as Pepe would have said.

The simple joys of the French Canals!

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Travel Writing Competition and Donation!

8/15/2015

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Festina Lente - Hurry slowly by Jackie Parry

Do you want to know what it's like to sail on the oceans, thousands of miles away from land... day after day... on a small boat? Festina Lente will take you there, journey with us without getting your feet wet (or becoming seasick!)

This story is also my entry into a 'short travel story' competition. If you enjoy this article, please vote for me here.

But you should read the other stories too, click here to be transported all over the world by a bunch of extremely talented writers - vote for the one you like best.

Festina Lente - Hurry Slowly
Sailing oceans is not like a plane or car ride. Nothing is certain except a vast puddle of water and a great stretch of sky. The days pass, measured not in hours but in distance. It’s dynamic, fantastic and petrifying all at the same time. There is rarely pattern or logic; you deal with what’s received, as it arrives . . . moment by moment.

We receive weatherfaxes; they’re usually in direct association with my emotions. When we are tossed and buffeted I feel beaten. In good weather I shift from thoughts of selling the boat to designing a new vegetable rack.

On watch: When all is settled I become drenched by memories that have no regard for place or circumstance; some thoughts enough to make me blush into the night. Recollections of those I have hurt make me squirm. I cradle my own hurts in time with the rocking motion. I recall good times as a kid, card games with my family by candlelight during frequent power cuts, it makes me smile. I think of things I should have done with my life; when the sailing charms me I realise there’s still time.

Boredom plays no part; clearing up, downloading weatherfaxes, radio scheds , power monitoring, fixing/maintaining, reading, checking the lines and rigging, resting and sail changes too! Navigating with paper charts, we join the dots, creating a highway that proves we are moving. I long for sweet grass and grand trees, succulent roast chicken and gooey ice cream. We keep moving; our thoughts do too, drifting away like clouds.

Off watch: Snuggled in a comfy bunk I listen to the patter of rain on deck, the ocean rushing alongside, and creaking lines. When I hear Noel ‘galley squirreling’ I anticipate the smells. Tea means it’s my time to stand watch (like Pavlov’s dog, I become instantly alert). Coffee means I can close my eyes as he’s making a mid-watch eyelid boost. Efforts of sleeping are linked with conditions; the gentle motion like a swaying train, or the vicious rolling in a malevolent and restless ocean where your insides jostle within your skin.

Orchestral music: The halyards play a rhythmic beat of hollow notes on the mast. The soft hum of the wind generator sends an alert of wind increasing; the thud, slap-slap death throes of flying-fish, either rescued by soft-hearted crew or left hidden in the dark to gasp their last breath. Noel can be soothed by the engine’s hum. I find it jarring like the dissonant chords of raw wind.

Seascape: The broad shimmering band of the Pacific Ocean is saturated with rich blues. Low blue-grey clouds give way to fuzzy yellows along the horizon. The sun glides beneath the rim of the world and for a few glorious moments the sea turns into a thick rich mixture of molten. We are a minute particle upon the eternity of ocean and sky, that particle our home and world. Birds scoop a flight path around the sails. We watch the moon rise lazily to her peak, lighting a silvery path just for us; marvelling in the waxing then waning. Bright and bold Sirius becomes my neat shot of pre-dawn adrenaline, bolting me from day-dreaming as it curves across the black canvas.

Travelling Tangs: Amid the tangy brew of percolating coffee and salty damp, is the strong olfactory confirmation that a flying fish has landed on the deck. Onions sizzling in the pan is a near daily event on board, meal creativity starts here. Sun-dried canvas evokes memories of summer holidays in our youth; the damp cockpit cushions, penetrated by salt, never quite dry. The contrasting whiff of exhaust encourages sea-sickness, the sweet smell of freshly baked bread inspires hunger.

Nigh-time: Watching for the lottery of squalls under the cover of darkness, the lightning cuts the atmosphere in two. The clouds seem to rub out the stars. My sodden hair slapping against my cheeks during downpours, while muscles bunch above the rotating deck; our harnesses are firmly in place. And finally dawn, where the horrors vanish and the air becomes so crisp, it feels as though it would shatter with words.

Paradoxical beauty: Pounding waves, great geysers of water, white bubbles chuckling softly amid giant swells; plunging into the void, pushing away thoughts of what lurks below. Disgruntled clouds carrying punches and marshmallow trade clouds. Trusting my partner with my life enables me to sleep. Malcontent wind and waves provide rude awakenings. The dawn paints the horizon in breathtaking crimson or sadistic black. Stiff and useless salt incrusted lines, like icing on a bun. The crucial burden of stores, lifted with the seas. Green phosphorescence streaks behind magnificent dolphins, the paradoxical beauty of the ocean - a lesson in humility.

Togetherness: We’re a tag team, six hours on/off. We reef, eat breakfast and evening meals together. We both operate all aspects of the boat, an important skill when only two on board. On calm seas we brush up on celestial navigation, writing, and eat finer meals; in bumpy waters we eat one pot repasts. Shifting winds, unkind seas, and endless squalls are frustrating but mellowed by the kindness of my partner; the gift of an extra hours sleep.

Home: The unique colours of the Australian sky are drawing us home. As the sun slopes off behind the horizon it paints Aussie golds, woven with tinges of low pearly clouds; the sea is warmed by the reflection of yellow. We’re absent from society, but not for long.

The essence of life at sea: It’s a love hate relationship, a roller coaster. The journey becomes etched on our skin. Vibrant bruises match vivid sunsets. There are tremendous stresses on equipment, and our bodies. Daily, we learn something new; about sailing and ourselves. Sailing the oceans isn’t easy, but offers magnificent rewards with perseverance. We whinge about the effort, but secretly we are glad, if it was easy everyone would be doing it.

BTW: If I do manage to win, the prize is $100 Amazon voucher. I will be purchasing a Kindle to donate to Redwings Horse Charity prize draw at The Horse Of The Year Show in the UK in October. I'll be on their stand on the 9th and 10th October signing books and hosting the giveaway competition.

If you'd like to read more about our travels, here's our books:
A Standard Journey- 5 horses, 2 people and 1 tent - 50% donated to charity
Of Foreign Build - From Corporate Girl to Sea-Gypsy Woman
Cruisers’ AA - Cruisers' Accumulated Acumen

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Locking Through With Canine Help

8/10/2015

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‘Grrrr gr gr grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,’ the little dog was growling but waggling her tail as she attacked the black ‘snake’ that was rudely wiggling near her feet.

‘Go-on, get it, get it,’ I heard the lock-keeper and Noel laughing while encouraging the tough terrier to attack.

Of course, it wasn’t a real snake, it was our mooring line! We usually take great care of our lines, we don’t drag them along paths, we furl them neatly – always ready to use, and try to keep them out of the sun; but we didn’t mind a bit of fun with a canine; besides she was having difficulty getting a good grip!

We traversed the Canal Du Midi in Autumn last year. With fewer boats we could savour all the delights this stunning canal has on offer. The autumn leaves showered down on us as we puttered through burnt oranges, flame reds and deep purples. The ducks quacked a laugh as we passed by and Herons flapped lazily across our bow.

With great tie up places and crisp, blue days of low humidity; no bumper boats (hire boats) and perfect countryside views, the days were a great joy. But this time we were keen to traverse the canal a bit quicker. Summer was here and we don’t enjoy sharing a narrow canal with umpteen ‘learners’.

At Ecluse No 35, Betielle, there was an added attraction that slowed us down and helped us appreciate our days. We were locking down, always easier than going up, but you still have to pay attention. As the lock doors opened I started to pull my line from around the bollard, back on board.

Our four-legged friend and I played tug of war for a while, but as the end of the line approached I took care, I didn’t want to pull her over the side!

As the rope fell onto the boat, the dog trotted off, pleased to have taken care of that problem!

Do you have funny dog/lock stories?

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We're Alive!

8/2/2015

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Living as nomads creates the most marvellous memories – but the best fun-times are free, unplanned, and make you feel alive!

Along the canals near Buzet Sur Baise in SW France cherry trees hang heavy with plump fruit. So many adorn the cycle paths that even the birds can’t keep up, and thousands of cherries fall to the ground to rot.

With our buddy, Lorna from MV Sunflower, we set off one Sunday morning armed with bags and boat hooks – blinkered on the task ahead.

‘Just around the corner,’ was the next best tree, which meant many kilometres later, but the sun was out, we had no appointment to keep, and the tree had to meet certain criteria:

Climbable
Big, large, ripe bunches of cherries
Not in someone’s garden

Image courtesy of worradmu at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

At the first favourite tree, we dithered and stuffed about. It was hard to climb the straight, branchless bottom of the trunk. Noel soon lost patience and cycled off to find ‘a better tree’. Meanwhile, Lorna leant against the tree and said, ‘right you, climb on my shoulders and get up there!’

She’s a tough chick, Lorna, and didn’t groan too much under my chunky boots, weight, and lack of elegance in using her as a ladder!

Up I went, higher and higher, the bucket was filling quickly, meanwhile, Lorna picked up what I dropped and snagged lots more via the boat hook.

Image courtesy of Prawny at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I found myself grinning through the experience, at forty-four I didn’t expect I’d be lifting my heavier body into the welcoming branches of a tall tree, and I’d forgotten what fun it is; you can’t think of the world or your worries, you have to concentrate on what each hand and foot is doing. You’re slightly removed from the world with your own unique view, and you are hunting and gathering – back to basics!

After what felt like hours, I climbed down again, using my human ladder (thank you Lorna), and cycled off to find Noel. My head was full of images of finding him at the bottom of a tree with a broken leg, but I was still grinning after having so much fun.

Several kilometres later, as I was just about to turn back, I spied his bike; several ‘coooo eeeees’ later and finally I received a reply, from thirty feet up in the air.

Noel had found his ideal tree and was merrily playing monkey with a full bucket of cherries and a big grin.

Noel's tree climbing ability has improved - Palmerston Island

‘Thank you,’ Noel said to his tree as he carefully climbed down. ‘That was brilliant, so quiet and peaceful within the arms of nature.’ I smiled back at him, such simple moments are to be treasured.

Noel and I morphed back to our childhood; up in the arms of the tree you could almost hear the children’s squeals of summer fun that we both had in our youth.

That was a few months ago, we are still all eating sweet cherry jam and tart chutney (better known as sauce as it is a little runny) – but it's all so incredibly yummy.

We still reminisce about that day – it was unique, special and fun – and totally free; a moment in time when we remembered to feel alive.

Now, I am tapping my foot waiting for the apples, but I must dash, I’ve just spied some black-berries!

What simple, fun, free things have you done on your travels?

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Audio Book - NEW RELEASE - Win!

Life on the Water With Cobs, Pens and Pepe Le Pew!

Travel Writing Competition and Donation!

Locking Through With Canine Help

We're Alive!

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