Travel Mad

As a child my family owned a large-enough boat to house three rowdy children, an exhausted mother and a strong-willed father for the compulsory 3 week summer holiday every year and random sunny weekends throughout the year. This was life from the age of six right through my teenage years up until I “rebelled” by spending drunken New Years Eves with my friends – although it was only ever a few nights off the boat until I once again craved the molly-coddling easy life of being back at sea under parental rein. Food and alcohol was free and we were typically left to our own devices so the lure of independence and self sufficiency tended to be rather short-lived.

The great thing I quickly learned from these holidays is that being “away in the boat” is regarded as an activity in itself thereby freeing oneself from the hassle of actually having to do anything other than swim, sleep and eat. This suited me very well! While fellow schoolfriends were spending their weekends on drunken nights out, dancing till dawn, movies and boys when asked what I did for the weekend I could simply say “I was out in the boat” and that was a sufficient response with no questions asked.

While the boat itself was just 34ft long and cramped at times, there was always the opportunity once we had anchored in a bay of escaping to the beach and beyond for hours on end. When I think now about the travels I have embarked upon as an adult, often alone and to what some would regard as “exotic” or “far-flung” locations, I am certain that a childhood of boating gave me a glimpse of adventure and freedom that I have carried with me always and continue to do so.

My parents were introduced to boating by friends and our years on the water were very social and often consisted of some 4-5 boats all tied up (presumably to enable ease of transport between boats to retrieve more beer or check on the dinner) together – one New Years Eve we were proud to be one of 9 boats tied together across the bay! All this jollity meant the children, while well fed and watered, were left to happily jaunt around on the beach or in the dinghies doing as we pleased. One day about 8 of us set off on a walk at about midday through farmland – as the hours wore on and the track became less defined it became clear that we were lost. The sun started to retreat behind the hills and the responsibility of oldest child caused my brother to start panicking – something he has never lost an ability to do. As one of the youngest children and exempt from anything resembling responsibility all I remember is feeling a slight twinge of excitement combined with smug satisfaction that I had managed to bag myself a piggy-back ride on the shoulders of my older female cousin.

One of the slightly brighter ones had read somewhere that following a river would lead to the sea and so that’s what we did. No more than half an hour had passed along the river and we arrived at a beach in time for dusk. Although not the bay our parents were anchored in, someone realised “our” bay was just around the point. I think one of the boys must have swam around to get a dinghy for the rest of us – as children brought up around water having to swim any distance was never given a second thought – if it was too far to yell, this was your only option.

The only disappointing thing about the whole adventure which had kept us away from our parents for almost 7 hours was that they hadn’t even noticed we were gone!

Travelling the boating way meant there were generally no tourist sights to see – this meant there were no time or place limitations placed on you. As long as your parents laid eyes on you around mealtimes or after dark they were content. Subsequent non-boating holidays where we were required to do everything together for fear of “losing” one of us could be slightly stifling. In retrospect, such a free childhood spent roaming beaches and mountains has made me not only an adventurous traveller but also rather a selfish one who enjoys solitude as much as company.