It’s been a while, too long by far, since I’ve sat down and just written something. I’m probably a bit rusty by now, but I was inspired to a bit of finger work, and so I begin…

I haven’t been on Kudu for a while now, I was graciously lent an entire house for a few weeks, and before that I seemed to be couch surfing a little too much. I’ve been missing Kudu though. I’m not sure what specifically, just a collective of things. The tiny bed, the smell of boat, the movement, and the peace and quiet,  so I decided I was going to stay on her tonight. She’s probably in need of some company anyway.

The drive to the marina was fun. As I am sure most people in England are currently aware, there’s a decent amount of snow making its way earthward tonight, along with an expected chill in the air.

I arrived to a sleeping boat sat still in the marina, and dusted with snow. I opened the lock, slid the hatch back, removed the washboards and stepped into the pitch black cabin, clunking a bag of shopping against the bulkhead as I went. Even in darkness I know where everything is, so with a sharp click the cabin light was on. Yikes, I can see my breath. I glanced at the weather station and saw a balmy 0.7 degrees (Celsius).

There was soon the sound of another click as the dormant fan heater whirled in to life. “Aah, home”.

I promised my client (sharemyplaylists.com) that I’d finish off some work, so the first job was to set up the laptop on my old desk, the chart table. Something was amiss though, it was too quiet. I took the radio to my parents the last time I did a stores drop, so I’m missing radio 4 this evening. Oh, how I need a fix of radio 4. My car doesn’t have an aerial so it’s been far too long since I’ve heard any sense on the airwaves.

With the work out of the way, I set about dinner.

The Origo stove was dry, so I popped back out in to the bitter cold to fetch the meths from the stern locker. A couple of glugs into this fantastic Swedish machine and we’re off.

A splash of olive oil, and only a splash since it had mostly solidified in the cold, and then some sliced garlic. Fry that in a pan for a little while, and then add some jumbo prawns. I would have got normal prawns, but these were on special offer at the supermarket. Give them a few minutes, and in true single burner cooking fashion, stick them on a plate somewhere while I cook the next bit.

In with the water, and bring to the boil. Open the gnocci and throw it in. As soon as it begins to float, kill the heat and drain the pan down the sink under the companionway steps. Ah, I remember doing this in Brightlingsea creek. Just. Utter bliss, and I feel that is an understatement. Sailing your self contained home into a remote water channel, cooking your own meal, and then falling asleep to the sound of lapping water and and whispering wildlife is…. well, you’ll just have to do it.

Add a couple of teaspoons of green pesto into the pan, then tip the jumbo prawns back in. Slice up a bit of blue cheese and throw that in for good measure. Eat a bit off the knife while you’re at it, go on, nobody’s looking. Turn the heat back on gently and warm it all up. No need to bother with a plate, just eat it out of the pan. Delicious!

I miss this. The freedom a boat gives you. I can’t go anywhere of course, I have to work, and Kudu is currently lacking a rig, but if the proverbial really hit the fan and I needed to escape from it, then 1 day of rigging the boat is all it would take me. I find that comforting. I get depressed when I don’t have a car because I can’t travel anywhere. Even though I may not intend to go anywhere, it’s just comforting to know that I can, and at the drop of a hat.

Talking of going places, I shall be in London quite a lot in January. I’m extraordinarily excited, but damn well nervous at the same time.

On the 13th January, at the London Boat Show, Sir Robin Knox-Johnston will be presenting me with a cup on behalf of the Little Ship Club (of which I am a member) ,  in recognition for my suicidal spirit. They’re branding it as adventurous, but that’s because they didn’t see Fife Ness… yet, because on Tuesday the 19th January, I’m presenting a 45 minute talk at the LSC open evening with questions and perhaps answers at the end.

I’m not used to public speaking. I’ve never done it before. I’m quite happy sat here telling a story in text, but acting it out on stage is another matter entirely. Like sailing, I suppose there’s only one way I’ll find out if I can do it, and that’s to try. As the rotten tomatoes start flying, I’ll be trying to work out how to reef the heckling, and my queue cards will be GPS waypoints. I’ll be fine, what’s the worst that can happen? Gulp!

I do hope it goes well, because on the 30th and 31st January I’m on stage again at the adventuretravellive.com expo in Victoria, London. Two more 45 minute session on the National Geographic stage in front of an audience that probably has no interest in sailing, although I’m hoping they have a thirst for adventure otherwise I’ll have to resort to humour, and that’s where it’ll certainly go wrong.

Still, I’m going to get to meet Sir Robin, and I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that. He is my absolute hero, not just because of the awesome things he has done, but because of the way he did them; a boat full of booze and a relentless distaste for letting the French win! What better way to do one of the greatest things man has ever done.

Kudu, out.

I’m moving this site on to another host, which means it might act weird for the next few days until I’ve migrated it all over.

This post is located on the new site, which now hopefully contains all the old comments and posts. Fingers crossed.

Please bear with me, I’ll try and make this as smooth as possible.

Thanks,

Nathan

Well, I’m here, back at my parent’s house. Nobody is in, and I’ve just heated up the “spag bol” my mum left for me in the kitchen. I’ve added my own ingredients by way of garlic bread, and what a treat it is to be able to heat it up in an oven. I also raided the shamefully lacking wine stash (sorry Dad, but if it helps, this Shiraz is a wonderful compliment to my dinner).

Kudu is in a complete mess, a hectic pile of everything all over the cabin. Everything got thrown in there this morning, from fenders to washing up I hadn’t done. Well, almost everything since in my haste I left the sails and boom on the quay in Stonehaven. Clever, eh. I’m hoping I might be able to get the sails back at least.

It feels strange to be here. I’m not sure I like it. I could be back to work in less than two weeks time, I hope I am, but I’ll be back to paying off debt, suffering the twice daily commute, the rude people who are obviously more important that anybody else around them, and the sad want for the weekend to arrive. It will be like I never left London, instead living the east coast dream between the alarm clock and the realisation that it’s now 9:30AM, and you had a conference call 15 minutes ago.

Oh dread. I hope it’s gone tomorrow. Maybe this is just the comedown from an entirely different way of life and in a few days I’ll be back to normal.

Well, I seem to have messed this post up. I was going to write a big post thanking everybody for all the support and help I’ve had, but I feel that this rant has kicked off on the wrong foot. I’ll write a proper thank you post another time when I’m a bit more cheery, but suffice to say for now, I remember everybody who helped me, from the first person (Jim Dew) to the last (Gordon, who gave the toilet key back to the Harbour Master for me this morning). Whether you left a comment on this blog, bought me a pint, shared a conversation, donated some food, or advice, lent a friendly ear, kicked me up the backside when I needed it, offered equipment to keep me safe, or travelled miles with a spare transistor and soldering iron to fix my solar charge controller without being prompted, I thank you.

I ran out of money in Wells. Not your usual running out of money that people usually tell you about when you invite them to the pub, though. This was really running out of money. I transferred the last £100 from a savings account into my current account just so I could buy food. Then eventually that ran out too. The overdraft was on it’s limit, and the credit card long since past its capacity. I had the spare change left on Kudu, and that was all the money in the world I could get my hands on.

Since Wells, I’ve been surviving on more borrowed money. Every time I’m delayed by the weather, I’m further in debt. Every time the boat breaks, it costs me money that I will be paying back over the following year.

I left Stonehaven on Saturday morning to be confronted by a 30 knot gust which sheared the brass gooseneck bolt. I suppose I can count myself lucky it happened when it did, but nevertheless  we limped back into the harbour.

To fix it was no major feat, although I still haven’t done it, but it meant another few days delay, and then there’s the weather. I’ve been plagued by bad weather for the entire trip, and it’s certainly not looking any better. There are deep lows hovering over the Atlantic at the moment, and they’ll be making their way over here to the East coast, meaning even more days stuck in harbours, and even more debt clocking up.

I’m not going to tell you just how my I owe, but suffice to say that this cannot continue any longer or I’ll be a prisoner to it for far too long. I gave it my best, I got to Scotland, but I have been beaten by constant breakages, bad weather, and inexperience.

Kudu will undergo a hefty refit this winter, with modifications built upon my experience this summer. Next year she will be ready for further adventures, but the reality is next year I’ll still be paying back this year. We will see what happens I suppose, but rest assured, this is not Kudu’s last adventure.

I’m off back to Preston by road on Thursday. Next week I’m sure I’ll have a few interviews, and the week after be back in the office. It will be like my life hasn’t changed at all, but as I’m sat there at my new desk, happily coding away on some fancy new piece of software, I’ll have a faint smile on my face, because I know what I did in the summer of 2009, and I will never ever forget it.

Thank you to everybody I met, everybody who offered help, and everybody who sent messages of support. Without you, I’d never have got this far.

For now, the flame of adventure has been reduced to a humble pilot light, but it won’t go out. It’s just a matter of time before there’s an almighty explosion.

A bit wavey, originally uploaded by nathanleefloats.

After removing myself from the pub with a two pint stagger that all too easily occurs in people weighing in at a hefty 9.5 stone, i took a boredom quenching walk along the beach. It made me glad i was out there today.

The barometer has dropped 5 millibars in the last 6 hours, so it’s looking poor. Oh eck, it’s even worse up this end of the beach.