Child of the Planet

Entry for September 26, 2006: Suddenly there are dolphins all over the place. We were all up and making preparations for our final day. Breakfast was gobbled down, and the Toftevaag was soon cruising out from behind the breakwater. It was like a choreographed finale. The dolphin sightings started rolling in. At one point I spent four hours piloting the boat as we followed a pod of Bottlenose dolphins as they fed.

Entry for September 24, 2006: god it’s good to be standing on a solid surface again. We were desperate to get out and find some dolphins today, so we ventured out into pretty high seas. We got hit in the face as soon as we rounded the breakwater. I didn’t make use of the biggest toilet in the world, but others on board did. In an effort not to repeat the entertainment of my first day out, I sat in the stern and moaned a bit. I was eventually discovered, and half the women on board formed a queue to ply me with remedies. It was a really sweet idea, but I felt like I’d been cornered by Macbeth's witches. I was wrapped in wet towels, fluffy ´pressure point´ bands encircled both wrists, chunks of ginger floated about in a mug of water in one hand, and a can of Coke bubbled in the other. A patch had been applied to my sweat soaked neck, and I had swallowed a couple of pills of unknown origin. I wish I could have been together enough to have enjoyed the attention.

Entry for September 23, 2006: Day off. My skin is tight from sun and salt. While I'm writing this, I'm pondering the boring bits, which get left out of stories. Especially the waiting, such as for transport to take me somewhere else. Last night the storm blew in from out in the Med, and we were warned ‘that those who chose to sleep out on deck’ should be prepared to quickly decamp to the cabins if the rains came. As we climbed into our bags big winds whipping at the canvas and rigging. It wasn’t long before the two girls who were sleeping either side of the mast escaped the weather down below decks. I slept through most of it, and at one point woke up and watched the clouds speeding across the black sky, and felt a few random drops on my face. A couple of big waves washed over the sea wall. The boat was rolling a bit more then usual in the relatively calm waters of the marina. We’re all waiting to see if we can go out this afternoon. I've been sleeping out on the ...

I was told that Brighton was dead in the winter. So I put a bit of thought into where I would spend a British winter. Scotland was top of the list. The seasons hold Britain in such a thrall, that one must pick where one lives based on the time of the year. London and Brighton are brilliant in the summer as there are lots of tourists, everyone dresses to impress, there are outdoor gigs, and one can sit in the sun on the sidewalk outside a favourite pub till ten o’clock at night. Scotland is better in the winter when the ‘midges’ have disappeared (to Ibiza I think), the air is crisp and clean, and snow dusts the tops of the Munros. York, better in winter. Newquay, better in the summer. Germany, great in winter. Greek Islands, brilliant in the summer. So I decided to visit Scotland for a bit. A mate from OZ also wanted to check out the top of the island so she borrowed a mates car and we filled it full of backpacks. On the way up we stopped at a pub near Loch Lomo...