Wednesday 26 May 2010

15 days to go: oopsy

Ok. There was this matter of concern on day T-178. In an attempt to pull cross the Channel without the help of P&O, I pulled on those speedos and sailed out on a canoe. Over the last few months it has come to my attention that a canoe is not the most efficient kind of boat to sail open waters in. Twas a foggy day and tiring after 20 minutes or so, I managed to divert almost 90 degrees to my right without realising. Woke up in a Cherbourg hospital later that evening.

As I contracted some kind of illness, I ended up a bit behind and thought I'd fly to Spain without telling you, just to catch up the journey (also largely to avoid Christmas in France). Then whilst typing a piece about Oman-Biyik in Madrid airport, and I know this is getting a bit much, I attracted the attentions of some law enforcement agency, whom I can only presume were tipped off by 'craig4rx'.

It was obvious that my journalistic meddling was digging too deep. Something was up here. I was deported to Russia and held in a boot for several hours. I overheard something in Spanish talking about the world cup and referees. Now, I've been in relative isolation for months and when that happens you go mad, you think of things that are quite impossible, but I believe something enormous has come of this. I'm certain there's some sort of deal going off with the Spanish FA and FIFA officiating. You heard it here first! Spain will win the World Cup!

Anyway, its been a tough ride and I'm afraid this blog has constantly been just out of reach. Even after escaping pre-broadbandic, antiquated landscapes like Siberia, the powers that be were noticably persistant and this unwanted attention tended to usher me in the way of other arresting situations. Thailand was difficult, do NOT go on holiday there. They bloody hated me!

Eventually I played them off against each other and hitched a ride Westwards from a much kinder Malaysian gent. Over the next few weeks I learned of the most upsetting situation in Somalia. A clear lack of organisation and a collective penchant for violence are unsuitable foundations for any society. And another lesson: pirates aren't cool, they're just dicks with guns. Sadly for them, as they could barely talk right, negotiating was pretty much beyond them, and the news audience for the threat to a Malay fisherman and an Englishman living under the radar for months, without so much as a blog post since 2009, these days is close to zero.

So my Malay friend, Anbu I think his name was, held the view if you can't beat them, join them. Well, I'm not much good with a Kalasnikov, or indeed a machete, but I sure know how to look after one. This knowledge earned me a route out of Somalian waters and I was transported in a box to another unknown territory. I count myself very lucky that it turned out to be Zimbabwe, one of the final stops on my poorly planned route.

Weeks ahead of schedule, some would accuse me of being complacent. But I took it upon myself to raise funds to leave Harare with some chance of purchasing a new laptop. With all the public criticism of Zimbabwean politics, I must defend the level of social mobility they have worked towards. Within a fortnight I was the fourth assistant in line to the Junior Propaganda Minister, a noble position in this great nation.

And yet I never let the goal out of my sights. On a major informations push in the West of the country, I used my authority to avert prying eyes as I sidestepped behind a few trees and disappeared into the Chizarira National Park. Several days have passed but I am now in a territory unknown to myself, featuring an internet cafe, and presumably just North of my favoured destination, South Africa.

The race is back on, with 15 days to go. But in the mean time I may settle with Magic Bougherra, Hong Youg-Jo and Koren as my tips for 2010. Just easier.