Yesterday, Ian, Dan, Holly, JD and I ticked off a fairly impressive milestone having sailed across every single line of longitude on the planet. This serves as a pretty stark reminder, not that I really needed one, that this big old race is nearly run. I’m not going to get too emotional here, I hope. I’ll save that for my final blog into London where I’ll likely just be a gibbering wreck, crying onto my laptop as I type. I once spilled a glass of water onto my keyboard at work and could thereafter only type the letter P. So please expect three to four paragraphs of the letter P for my final missive, although I sincerely hope you’ll be able to get the gist of what I’m trying to convey from context. For now, I think I’ll try and be semi-serious for once (not just in my blogging output but in life in general) and talk about time.
This is of course the longest race in Clipper Race history and it’s often felt like it would stretch on into eternity. But even without the oh-so-fun-filled two year desolate waste years of death there has always been that element of feeling frozen in time whilst on this adventure. The race, party, race, party winning formula seems to go on ad infinitum – and I mean that in the best possible way. I’ve often seen it like we’ve stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia, only it’s this side that’s in suspended animation whilst the rest of the world continues to turn without us.
The Louis Armstrong song We Have All The Time in the World comes to mind. An ironic lament, because of course, no matter how much we wish it wasn’t so, our time here is finite. All the more reason to suck the marrow out of life when you can and take on challenges like the Clipper Round The World Yacht Race. Sailing the globe does open Pandora’s Box somewhat though. How can you go back to normal life after doing something like this? That’s not a rhetorical question by the way. I’m genuinely after some answers. Seriously, DM me.
The Clipper Bubble is real and I really don’t want it to go pop. The world, at least to me, too often feels like a tragedy playing out its final scene where I’m completely powerless to help. It’s wonderful to be able to step outside of that and exist in a place where nothing really matters except sailing and passing the time with friends. I’ve always been Epicurean at heart and taking part in this race has allowed me to fully indulge in that way of life. The shared experience is incredible, but so too are the moments of peaceful solitude. The chance to be completely mindful, helming on another gloriously starry night with not a single worry passing through my mind.
Alas, we cannot stay here forever in our joy filled parallel universe. Reality creeps over the horizon, and with it all the trappings I’ve enjoyed escaping for so long, but also, crucially, all the things I absolutely love in life – my friends, my family, London, meals that aren’t cooked in one big pot, football, and of course, because I am a completely basic, my massive TV. But I’m not ready to return just yet. For now I’m going to wander on deck and remain in this carefree idyll. Just a little while longer at least. I have all the time in the world.