New Boots

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This blog post is dedicated to Toby Carr who died on 10th January. He and I never met but we were online friends. His courageous, adventurous and gentle spirit inspired me, and I’ll miss his presence and all he was so generous to share.

Karen gave me a pair of boots for Christmas. I think they are imbued with magic because I’ve found myself walking in them just about every day since I received them. I’ve fallen in love with walking again. I’ve walked over ninety miles in them already! They’re made by Vivobarefoot who have an innovative and ethical approach to designing and producing a wide range of footwear. I think they are the most comfortable boots I’ve ever worn.

These boots have come to epitomise my recovery process over recent weeks. Normally at this time of year, I’m feeling blue with grim anticipation for the long pull out of winter. Instead, this year I’m feeling bubbly and buoyant which is absolutely fantastic. 2021 closed well for me and this new year holds plenty of promise. Enjoying an extended, relaxed and happy festive period with Karen certainly helped - though I think there is more at play than this. The therapy I was fortunate to receive in the Autumn and the run up to Christmas was a vital component for which I’m eternally grateful. Linked with this, the continued support I receive from my Community Psychiatric Nurse is important too.

There is within me a settled determination to overcome my depression through positive action. I’m at that point in my recovery journey, when I believe I can literally cure myself through activity and adventure. Indeed, over the last couple of weeks I’ve enjoyed active time in the outdoors just about every day. It’s almost as if my new boots are calling for me to put them on and go exploring. I’ve this sense of coherence with regard to my personal struggle with my depression. My thinking has cleared and is no longer ravaged with thoughts of low self-worth and self-disgust. The clarity I’m experiencing is like the air after it’s been freshly laundered by a heavy rain shower. The haze I’ve been experiencing has been replaced with spotless views, so sharp, they take my breath away.

With my newly acquired coherence comes the awareness, I need to be cautious - not to leap forward like a horse from its stall and rush headlong into a race against myself to be come totally well again. In my experience, this has sometimes led to a crash and a deeper depression. However, it’s difficult not to feel excited about the opportunities before me this year, and be eager to fully engage with the world. Certainly, this eagerness has motivated me well so far this year.

Recognising a need to be realistic, I set myself only one resolution at New Year. All the rest are exciting aspirations. My resolution is to lose weight. I began this year 12kgs overweight and I’ve managed to lose 2.1kgs since I set my goal. It helps me to align losing weight with my recovery process, to accept it takes time and there’ll be challenges along the way. Again, I find myself thinking of my boots and how much I enjoy walking in them, working up a sweat, puffing my way towards a rewarding summit or a hidden waterfall I’ve wanted to find. The rewards are not simply the views but a sense of achievement and the knowledge my health is being enhanced. I’ve been suffering from pretty high blood pressure too, with it peaking rather alarmingly over Christmas. It’s pleasing to see it returning to a more normal and healthy level, particularly when I return from time out in my kayak or a long walk.

My aspirations for the year ahead are more ethereal; live with purpose, be more present, enjoy more fun, find my laughter again, revel in the wonders of Nature, and many more like those. With the spectre of my depression drifting further away from me, I find myself believing anything is possible this year. I’m feeling strong. I’m feeling creative. I’m feeling adventurous. I’m feeling impish. Who knows what opportunities I’ll encounter.

I’m inspired to live life as fully as possible. Toby Carr reiterated this for me with his sad passing and through the fullness of his well-lived life. So too have the ravages of the pandemic. Life is tenuous and not to be taken for granted. It’s so incredibly powerful for me to understand this, to know this and to embody this too, because only a few months ago, I was fighting not to end my life through my suicide. Thankfully it’s now difficult for me to reconnect with those deep levels of despair, so much so, I find it hard to imagine feeling that way again.

So here’s to 2022 and all it will offer. My warmest wishes to you and as always, thank you for your continued love and support.

Plans Afoot - Rock Climbs, Lighthouses & Islands

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All of a sudden it is Autumn! The evenings are noticeably drawing in, there is chill to them too and I noticed this morning in Aros Park how the trees are changing colour. Many people tell me they love this season best of all but for me, it feels like a sad one. The long, warm summer days have come to an end and the prospect of a long dark winter ahead never fills me with eager anticipation. I have lived for well over half my life in the northern hemisphere but originating from the African tropics as I do, my blood runs thin and I am not a winter person. I love the warmth and of course the sunshine too.

This sense of sadness is heightened with an awareness I’ve missed most of the summer because of a long and lingering dose of severe depression. For two months I was laid low because of my recurring illness, incapacitated by severe low mood, dark thoughts of suicide and a general debilitating energy sapping malaise. Thankfully I seem to be on my way towards wellness again, though I have to say it seems like an achingly slow road. Despite my continuing lethargy and sometimes crippling anxiety, I’m once more looking ahead, rather than negatively inwardly.

A week ago I turned 58 and this gave me cause to consider what I wanted from my year ahead. I want to be well, that goes without saying. I want to enjoy adventures and I want to strengthen my connection to the natural world I inhabit. I have a desire too to reconnect with old friends and to meet new ones too. For too long, probably the last ten years, I’ve lived a solitude existence, far away from core friendships which are so important to me. On the other hand I have forged many genuine friendships through my social media presence, many of who I have yet to meet in person. It is my hope, I will realise many of these friendships in the months and year to come.

My Quiet Place in My Shed With My Three Books of Inspiration, A Climbing Harness & My Treasured Map Of West Coast Scotland.

Here is my plan to make these aspirations happen. I treated myself to a book I used to love trawling through when I worked as an instructor with Outward Bound. It was a staple of all the Outward Bound staff rooms I had the pleasure of enjoying through the years. ‘Classic Rock’, a coffee table book, is a wonderful compilation of the finest easy-(ish) rock climbs in the British Isles. It’s a book from the late 1970s when rock climbing was beginning to become a popular and an easily accessible activity. I was introduced to traditional multi-pitch climbing in the Moelwyns in North Wales in 1984. From that first route, ‘Slick’, a wonderful 80 metre rambling route graded Very Difficult (VDiff), I became an avid climber. I was never accomplished, in that I climbed the harder grades but I did enjoy the long ‘big boot’ routes (as I termed them) found on the innumerable crags and mountains of Wales, the Lake District and Scotland. These are the routes which feature in the book I recently bought. None of these routes is harder than Very Severe (VS), most being graded VDiff. The grade Very Difficult is really a misnomer. It describes a route which is easy to follow, enjoys positive hand holds and foot holds, and generally provides an enjoyable stress free ascent of the mountain crag. There will be some moments when the pulse may run somewhat faster, but this will probably be because of a sense of exposure rather than any actual difficulty.

It is usual in traditional multi-pitch rock climbing to climb in pairs, with a good friend, where one person takes the lead and the other becomes the second. I won’t go into the ins and outs of the traditional multi-pitch rock climbing process suffice to say, if the route is rewardingly challenging, then the pair will leave the crag with a sense of accomplishment and a wonderful shared memory to return to.

Anyway, my plan is to climb as many of the Scottish routes described in ‘Classic Rock’ in the year to come (such as Cioch Direct on the Isle of Skye featured in the adjacent slide show, climbed with Mrs LifeAfloat). I might venture south to the Lake District to complete a few there, but the reality will be I’ll struggle to climb even half the twenty six featured Scottish routes which are widely spread around the Highlands and Islands. My intention is to use the excuse of pairing up for a rock route as a means of reconnecting with old friends and maybe meeting new ones too. I remember with fondness many of the fine shared moments in the mountains and on exposed circuitous routes with Outward Bound friends in my distant past.

When we moved onto our yacht in 2012, I gave away all my rock climbing gear which is something I hugely regret. This means I have to build my kit up from scratch which is no mean feat given the expense of rock climbing gear now. My jaw drops when I look at the prices of essential items! However, it does mean I will have brand new kit and not be using my previously questionable out of date gear, much of which I had owned since the mid-80s. I’m certainly going to have to up my game with my creativity and sell a lot of jewellery and art to afford kitting myself out again.

Karen recently bought me a wonderful book written by Donald S Murray about Scotland’s Lighthouses. I have often thought it would be a lovely project to visit as many of these structures in my sea kayak. I will have paddled past a large number of them in 2015 when I circumnavigated Scotland and the Islands. However, there are many I have yet to see and there are those I have seen but would like to visit ashore. I think it’s because of my ease with solitude and wildness which makes the thought of being a light house keeper a romantically appealing one for me. I love the thought of living a simple but structured existence somewhere on the remote and wild Scottish coastline, or island or indeed, a rocky skerry. It is the lighthouses constructed on the latter which prove the most challenging for me to reach and land on, such as Skerryvore Lighthouse perched on a jagged rocky reef, washed by heavy Atlantic swells, sixteen kilometres south west of the Isle of Tiree.

Corsewall Point Lighthouse, Galloway

Again it would be lovely to share these kayaking lighthouse visitations with friends, sharing delight in exploring the intricacies of the Scottish coastline and camping overnight in remote and hard to reach wild locations.

This is certainly not a project I would hope to complete in my 58th year. It’s very much a long term one and probably will not be fully realised before I’m to old to paddle safely far offshore. Another long term project is visiting as many of the 900+ Scottish the islands before it’s time to hang up my kayaking paddles for good. Many of these islands are eloquently described in Haswell-Smith’s beautifully illustrated, hugely informative and well researched coffee table book, ‘The Scottish Islands’. As it is for for many mountaineers and walkers, ticking off the list of Munros, the 282 mountain peaks above 914 metres in height in Scotland, there is a compelling desire within me to visit as many of the Scottish islands as possible by kayak. If I trawled through my memories, I’m certain I’ll create a pretty long retroactive list of islands I have already landed on. I intend too, to resurrect my idea of sleeping on a different island off the Isle of Mull every month in my bivvy bag (under the stars) and this is certainly a project which will keep me entertained for the next twelve months. In resurrecting this plan, I’ll make more of an effort to raise the profile of Odyssey, the cancer charity I’m very proud to be an ambassador for.

What I have outlined above may seem overly ambitious, especially for a increasingly overweight man no longer enjoying the nimble fitness of his youth. Indeed, I am mindful of being cautious and not setting myself aspirations which will be too challenging to attain. There is the danger too of shooting out of the trap like a greyhound after a hare and ending up brought up short and winded, because I’m simply too eager to be well again. This is a familiar experience for me and the consequences for not managing this carefully can be dangerous because I might find myself tumbling backwards into another deep depression, experiencing a sense of failure and inadequacy. There is a fine line between being ambitious and over ambitious. I think I have tended to relate to the latter and generally I have got away with my chutzpah. I think for me, what I enjoy most in planning these adventures is the creation of them in my mind and wondering about their possibility and potential. I often say to folks that the advent of Google Earth has been a dangerous tool for me - it’s all to easy for me to draw a line from one place to another and say to myself, I can kayak that. I simply love reading maps, noticing intriguing spots in the landscape, checking these out on Google Earth, and then dreaming of visiting them. There is sometimes a sense of rising panic within me when I realise I probably do not have enough lifetime left to visit all the places I want to in Scotland!

I need these adventurous aspirations to work towards for the motivation they provide. It’s not enough to tell myself I will simply get out into the wilds whenever I feel like it, because now I’m living comfortably ashore again, I’ve somewhat lost the incentive to get outdoors because I feel separated from the natural realm. Now I have a warm and cosy shed to work in, it’s all too easy for me to hunker down in there day after day, losing sight of my adventurous roots and the earthy anti-depressant qualities of Nature.

It’s all too easy for me to be tough on myself with high expectations and a strong drive to achieve. However, by setting out these aspirations for my 58th year, I’m hopeful I’ll inspire myself to become active again and to make a meaningful connection to the world I live in.

My story continues.

2020 - So Far

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25th August! That is the date of my last entry in this blog. Shameful. Anyway I suppose, better later than never. Here goes.

Yesterday I watched the Scotland versus Ireland play in their opening games of the Six Nations Rugby competition, a hard fought contest between the nations of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Italy and England. Sporting wise it is a highlight of my year for two reasons. I’m a fan of rugby (used to play it) and think this competition is the finest to watch. Also because the timing of the Six Nations contest marks the end of winter and heralds the promise of spring.

Of course, I want Scotland to feature well in the contest, even win it outright if possible and certainly beat the Auld Enemy, England to maintain our stewardship of the Calcutter Cup. The match between Ireland and Scotland yesterday was a well fought and bruising encounter. Ireland triumphed with 19 points to 12. Both teams were well matched and it was a close call right up to the final whistle. Watching the Scotland team surge close to their opponents try line again and again without success, suddenly clarified for me where I find myself at the moment. The Scotland team were strong, co-ordinated, fearless and at times played with flair. However, at the closest moments when they looked to score a try, they made a mistake and had a penalty awarded against them, or through mishandling, they allowed Ireland to regain the initiative. It was a Scottish onslaught after onslaught with fierce bravery, without success. Even when a try was scored, it was nullified because the player dropped the ball before he placed it on the ground. This moment epitomised Scotland’s fortunes.

I was on the edge of my seat watching the game. As it unfolded and witnessing Scotland’s game, I witnessed through their valiant efforts the experiences I face in my life at the moment. I suppose one of the reasons I haven’t written a blog post for a while is because I didn’t want to hark on about mental health and my depression. Somehow though, there’s no escaping this. I am fighting my depression at the moment as fiercely as Scotland faced Ireland yesterday. I face it head on and tackle it when it attempts to get the better of me, and when I do, I gain ground. Like Scotland’s efforts though, I am often overwhelmed and lose ground again. Since the festive period I have struggled with a bad dose of my depression. So much so, there has been some talk of another hospital admission. I certainly do not want this to happen. I’m determined not to give in and find myself on the ward again watching through the windows, my life pass by.

With a concerted effort to stay ahead of my illness, I have set myself a few achievable goals through the year to provide me focus and the joy of attainment. As you may guess, most of these tasks involve sea kayaking and my connection to the wild outdoors. In 2020 I aim to achieve the following;

  • Kayak 2020 kilometres by the end of the year. Given I paddled 2997 km in four months during my 2015 journey around Scotland, I think this is eminently achievable. The summer months will see me undertake a number of long journeys.

  • Solo bivouac on a different island for a night once a month through the year. The criteria being; the island must be no longer than 1000m and wider than 500m. I have to kayak to it. The island must be a complete island, not one which dries out at low tide to connect to the shore.

  • Kayak around the Isle of Mull closely following the coastline, every loch and indentation.

  • Begin a regular You Tube ‘vlog’ highlighting my life connected to the outdoors, my deeper connection through this process, talk more about mental health and how being outdoors helps my process of recovery. Talk about adventure and why this is so important in my life. With this in mind, talk about my approach to adventure, particularly because much of it is solo, and how I ascertain and manage the risks. In general too, share my life here on Mull as we explore the island by walking and camping. I’d like to also portray a number of film projects which interest me; waterfalls of Mull and the Iron Age remains on the island. I have created a long list of ideas.

  • Become creative again and begin to make jewellery from found objects along the shoreline. I used to make jewellery from sea glass which is why I want to do something similar. It’ll help me if I can sell what I create to support funding for my projects.

  • Finally of course, I have a book to write! I’m confident the reactivation of my physical and creative self, will inspire me with this endeavour.

Somehow though, like the Scotland Rugby team surging against the Irish yesterday, I find myself already feeling beaten back and my resolve tested. I am fighting (I use the word fight a lot), lethargy and sleepy tiredness. My medication, while keeping me above my lowest point, has the side affects of tiredness, trembles and marked problems with my balance. For example, on returning from my first bivouac on an island, I unwittingly capsized in my kayak and ended up swimming in the sea. Having kayaked probably at least 5000km since 2015 without an unintentional capsize, this came as a complete shock. Particularly since I was in Tobermory Bay where I had managed to reach paddling through a sizeable sea. I simply found myself falling to my right and unable to prevent my immersion. If this wasn’t bad enough, I lost my cherished GoPro camera. The saddest thing about this is I had recorded all the footage I needed to post my first vlog. What with the capsize and the loss of the film footage, I feel beaten and demoralised. Not only this, the camera will take time to be replaced because of expense. It is difficult for me to recognise my achievement in completing my island task because of these two disasters.

The effect of the loss of my camera has led me down a path of despondency and questions pertaining my ability to achieve anything in my life. I recognise this is my illness speaking to me, but it can be an overwhelming belief. The analogy of the Scotland rugby team dashing themselves against the redoubtable Irish and not quite achieving seems to be a true on for me. Running this analogy to its conclusion would be the awareness the game is not over until the final whistle, thus never give up hope.

What frustrates me is after my lengthy stay in hospital last year, I left there with renewed understanding on how I can combat my depression through using Cognitive Behavioural methods. At the moment for me, it’s grappling with the knowledge and forgetting how to apply it. I’m irritated by my lack of ability to put to use what I know to be effective.

There are wider aspects of my life at the moment which cause me worry. The greatest of these is my broken relationship with the R.N.L.I. and the belief I have been exploited by the charity on a number of levels. I have a meeting with representatives of the organisation coming up where I hope my unhappy concerns will be heard and addressed. It’s more the sadness I feel about this which deepens my sense of depressive gloom. This situation also creates high levels of anxiety within me.

The side affects of my antidepressant medication are bothering me too. I ask myself daily what is the point of taking the medication if the quality of my life is affected by the very thing which should be enhancing it? I am jittery, my hand trembles so much so, I find myself clumsy when pouring my coffee for example (and you all know how important my morning coffee is to me). This affects my handwriting and simply when I’m trying to relax. The loss of co-ordination and balance dampens my spirits too. The simple task of taking Ziggy for his walk is sometimes a challenge when I stumble and fall backwards on steeper ground. Then there is the issue of my libido. This is non-existent and for a person who, as mostly every other human does, enjoys the intimacy of lovemaking, this is tough to bear. I do find intimacy with my wife through our deep affection and our love, but the physical expression of this has been absent in my life since my time in hospital. As a husband, this causes me worry and concern despite the assurances I receive indicating the opposite. I am in close consultation with my caring mental health professionals about managing my medication.

Then there is the task of writing my book. I admit here, I am woefully behind in even presenting a few worthwhile chapters for consideration. I know what I want to write and there are many times when I experience the urge to put my thoughts on paper. However, the moment I sit before my laptop, my energy grinds to a halt to replaced with self-doubt and concerns about my ability to write. Karen gave me a Christmas gift of a week long retreat at Monhiack Mor, the creative writers centre near Inverness, focussing on memoir writing which is essentially what my book will be. Again though, I’m pressurising myself to have a good amount of writing to present at the retreat.

It seems to me this has been a self-indulgent blog entry detailing my woes. I guess this is true. It is self-indulgent to share my challenges in a public forum, knowing I will undoubtedly receive many words and expressions of support from many of you. In fact though, these supportive responses are hugely helpful for me. One of the greatest challenges I face is the one of loneliness. Of course Karen is my constant in my life and she is wonderful offering her love, support and expressing her belief in me. I lack the companionship of friendship and so find myself seeking this through Twitter and Facebook. Here, I have very many people I call my friends, most of whom I have yet to meet. The friendship and unconditional support I receive from hundreds of folks, is immeasurably helpful. Again though, I resist ‘banging’ on in my Tweets or Facebook posts about my depressive state of mind, for fear of becoming burdensome and seeking continual attention.

To round this off, having written what I have, I feel a strong sense of hope. I know I will replace my camera and I’ll begin to create my vlogs. I know as the weather improves, I’ll be kayaking almost every day. Now we live in a wonderful house, we have visitors lined up to stay with us, thus easing my feeling of loneliness. I have achievable goals to enjoy completing. Finally, I’m honoured to be the key note speaker at the charity Odyssey’s 25th celebration dinner party in March. This fact alone has helped stabilise my sense of uselessness. In return for this opportunity, I have decided to make Odyssey my fundraising charity for the whole year. I will set up a JustGiving page not for one particular event but everything I do through the year. If folks feel inspired by my adventures and/or enjoy the stories I share, I hope they decide to make a donation to Odyssey.

I will make it over this hump and I’m certain when I write here again, my mood will have considerably lifted. Thank you for taking the time to read this and as ever, for your unconditional support.

Adventurer

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The Cambrian News described me as an adventurer when they wrote an article about my 3 Peaks by Kayak fundraising journey, (link here). It was strange for me to see myself described as such and this made me think about the concept of adventure per se and that of being an adventurer. 

Strangely, despite having lived my life immersed in the outdoors working as a guide and outdoor instructor, experiencing myriad incredible adventurous experiences for myself and undertaking some fairly major expeditions, I have not viewed myself specifically as an adventurer. This is a title I bestow on others who I deem more worthy of the description than me. I guess, I consider my efforts benign in comparison to what other folks have achieved. Seeing the word attributed to me in the newspaper article at first caused me to cringe a little, but then I glowed with a sense of self-recognition. I'm interested why this simple attribution is important to me. 

First of all, it is important because it is a form of recognition. There is a drive within every human to be positively recognised for who we are. We consciously or unconsciously live our lives in such a way so that we receive attention and acknowledgement which can only be provided by another person or people. I'm never going to be recognised for academic prowess or business acumen, so finding myself acknowledged for achieving something worthwhile in a field I'm adept at is particularly rewarding. 

Secondly, as I reach the later years of my life, I realise the importance of my legacy - the story or stories which will be recounted about me after I have departed this world. I don't want to pass through this existence without a worthy epitaph to mark my presence. This may seem a vain aspiration but as with being recognised for who I am in this present life, I would like there to be a memory of me having contributed meaningfully during my life. If this is as an 'adventurer', then I'll be happy with this. 

Ever since I stopped working for Outward Bound twenty years ago, I have struggled to define myself with any certainty. I suppose rather tongue in cheek I could confidently call myself a Jack of All Trades. I tried my hand in the Mental Health sector, trained in psychotherapy and ran a private practice for a few years, developed a form of 'wilderness therapy' and when I ceased this, a number of other minor job roles including sea kayak guiding. I wouldn't say that I was unsuccessful at any of those roles, it's just that I didn't fit them - they didn't fit me. Maybe I'm a rolling stone, unable to settle in any profession. If this is the case, then defining myself as an adventurer will be the ideal solution, for this is exactly what the specifications for this title demands - a person willing to roll as a stone, meeting and overcoming uncertainty along the way, maybe living with discomfort and undertaking arduous ventures. 

I have to admit there is an element of discomfort for me with the term adventurer. In this age of social media sound bytes and instant fame, there appears to me to be commodification of adventure as a means of shameless self-promotion. The outdoors becomes a playground, the environment barely given a second glance in the race for the perfect adventure photo, for example a blazing camp fire on virgin Hebridean Machar or a dune buggy roaring over pristine sands. I'm not suggesting that adventurers are disconnected from nature but it pains me when I see Nature being exploited for purely egoistic gain. Maybe I hold a naïve view that to be an adventurer who journeys through the wild and natural realms, one needs to do so with reverent mutuality, viewing Nature as an equal partner in the enterprise.

Being an adventurer carries responsibility and it's role which can be a force for good. People look upon adventurers as sources for inspiration. This is one of the responsibilities I find myself accepting with serious intent. Particularly so because I have chosen to associate my endeavours with raising awareness about mental health, depression, suicide awareness and recovery. I recognise that through my profile I have a stronger voice to air my knowledge about these important subjects. Actually, this is one of the motivating factors in me deciding to follow the path of becoming an adventurer - to use this as a platform to highlight the issues surrounding depression. 

Of course I can only be an adventurer if I continue to embark on adventures. I don't anticipate this being an arduous arrangement to fulfil but it does come with costs and these aren't just financial. I will be required to be away from home and separated from my wife for long periods of time. This is probably the toughest aspect of adventuring for me. I feel guilt at not being home to assist with daily home life, particularly since we live on a boat and this requires some extraordinary chores like having to row Ziggy ashore for his walks. This can become an arduous chore if it is not shared. Of course separation is tough and can put strain on the marriage. I have many times wondered how early explorers managed to maintain successful marriages despite living abroad for months if not years at a time. In this day and age though, our means of communicating with loved ones is far more advanced. I am thankful and grateful that Karen supports my desire for adventures, recognising this as a positive force for my continued good health and personal growth. Being away for long periods of time also impacts life in general; missing friends, missing out on social events and negating community voluntary duties such as the RNLI Tobermory Lifeboat in my case.

As with any chosen path in life, the benefits have to outweigh the negatives. It's not as if I am consigned to this role against my will, being the only opportunity within my grasp. The choice is mine and if the costs are too great then it's a simple decision to take a step back, reassessing what's important and what changes can be made. For the moment, though much of my life has been leading to this, it feels like the early stages of my embarkation along this route. It's as if I have just been offered the role and have accepted it. 

In reality, no such role exists and it's not a paid job. I am an adventurer in name only, an attribution pasted onto me by a supportive newspaper article and I have wrapped myself in the glory of it. Whether I can make some kind of living from this only time will tell. It's purely down to me and how comfortable I feel about making this happen. I am a humble soul, not one to seek fame or glory. Yet, for the first time in many years I find myself enjoying discovering a sense of identity and pride in these three words:

Nick Ray, Adventurer. 

Finding Focus

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The summer is speeding by for me. This is probably a good thing in a way, because it means that I'm living it fully. I think this is probably true, though I have difficulty in recounting what I get up to each day. Not a huge amount to be honest. 

Anyway, I've recently returned from a journey down south where I gave a presentation in Aberdyfi about my 3 Peaks by Kayak journey, visited my parents in Herefordshire and then spent a few days camping with a group of friends in Pembrokeshire. This journey turned into a rewarding experience for me where I gained significant insights which I believe will be useful for me in my future. 

My presentation in Aberdyfi turned out to be an unqualified success. Seventy or so folks came along to the Yacht Club in the village to hear me give an illustrated talk about my 3 Peaks adventure. To be honest, I hadn't really prepared in any detail what I was going to talk about. I had chosen a number of photos to show and these would offer me prompts to recount anecdotes from the journey. I did have the intention of speaking about how profound the journey was for me and how I gained deep insights into my mental health recovery process as a result of it. As the presentation unfolded, I found myself speaking with eloquent openness about my struggle with my depression, ideations of suicide and how powerful moments of insight into these were highlighted by incredible experiences I encountered. Without preparing for this, I found my voice and it carried impact. 

The feedback I received afterwards was difficult to accept because it was so effusive in its praise. Such is my low sense of self-worth that I literally had to force the compliments into my 'memory banks'. It was when people I had never met before came up to me and spoke of the profoundness of my talk, that I realised that I had given something worthwhile. This was a good feeling for me. 

A few days later down in Pembrokeshire, the compliments continued to roll in and this time they were more thoughtful because folks had given time to thinking about the impact of my presentation. I couldn't help but glow with a sense of satisfaction that my voice had such impact. My intuition that sharing my personal struggle with depression and suicide as an adjunct to the powerful experiences I encountered during my kayaking journey had paid off. With relief, I realised that my desired future path of publicly sharing my outdoor adventures as a source of inspiration for others struggling with mental health issues and general self awareness, was a good one for me to pursue. 

Driving north to the Isle of Mull, I pondered on how I can build on this and make it happen.

Writing seems to be the most obvious pathway. I like writing but I'm not good at focussing and completing writing projects. However, recently submitting an article about my recent kayaking trip to the notable sea-kayaking publication, Ocean Paddler, and having this well received, with an invitation to submit further articles, has boosted my confidence and provided me with the incentive to approach my writing seriously. I have a number of books I would like to write and of course, many shorter pieces specifically about the transformational power of Nature, the outdoors and adventure per se. 

Public speaking is also an obvious route to embark on. I have come to accept that I'm adept at this and I can hold an audiences' attention through my voice and story. I have much to say and I do enjoy sharing my views and tales when these moments arise. However, I'm slow to grasp opportunities to speak publicly or even seek them out, instead waiting to be invited to do so. This will be a challenge for me, to publicise myself as a worthwhile speaker, worthy of hiring. 

Running workshops was another consideration of mine. I enjoy being a facilitator, managing group process and working with the 'here and now' material as it arises. Again, like my writing aspirations, I have a myriad workshop titles in my notebooks. The key here is finding a market for these and more to the point, a relevance for them. In my time, I have worked as an independent workshop provider and facilitator but I found this a stressful process for me. I'm not business minded enough to have made this a success and this dissuades me from following this path. 

Of course there is social media where I can highlight what I have to offer. My Twitter account is a healthy one with wonderfully meaningful engagement with friends, acquaintances and strangers. Here, I largely present myself as I am, not really hiding much away. It would be easy for me to build on this online persona and 'market. what I want to offer. Facebook is a little different and since the international wrangle with 'false news' and manipulation, I'm wary of this platform. I am on Instagram but I don't engage with this as best I could.

Then there is this website and developing my 'Life Afloat' brand. This is an obvious point of reference for what I want to develop and share. Like my writing, I will need to focus more on this, developing useful content and make it an interesting resource for folks to want to visit and remain connected with.

Finally, my Blog. I simply need to keep up with this and keep writing material for it.

If you have ideas and suggestions in response to what I've shared here, then please drop me a line through my contact page. I welcome any feedback you may wish to give me. Thank you.  

The Three Peaks by Kayak

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I'm useless at keeping an up to date blog. My best intentions to write regularly and share my thoughts with the wider world come to nought through a mixture of reasons, ranging from low self-confidence to good old fashioned procrastination. I should realise that setting myself the goal of writing regular contributions would not really work for me. I was a poor academic student who was always late with my assignments and essays, leaving writing them to the very last minute or worse, not at all. I became more adept at providing excuses than I did at writing!

This said though, I do enjoy writing and I think that when I do produce a piece, it reads pretty well and I'm pleased with it. I'm not sure why I find it difficult to fulfil my aspirations to write more and I hope that when I do come to understand my blocks, there'll be no stopping me! 

This blog entry is by way of support for my Three Peaks by Kayak challenge which I'm undertaking this May (2018). I'm raising funds for Odyssey, a small charity who provide outdoor courses for people who have been or are being treated for cancer. I have worked for them on a number of occasions and I believe their courses to be incredibly worthwhile. It is wonderful to be writing this entry and to not be covering the theme of my depression and mental health travails. Actually, when I come to think of it, one of the reasons I haven't contributed recently, is because I was tired of only thinking of writing about my low mood, my struggles with this and the more painful truth of fighting my desire to complete suicide. I simply did not want to keep rehashing my negative thoughts and feelings and sharing these with you. It's really lovely at long last to have hope and happiness surging through my veins again. 

My last blog entry was about my New Year plans and I'm pleased to say that I'm at least on my way to undertaking a significant one of these. The Three Peaks by Kayak has been on my list of adventures for nearly twenty five years, really, ever since I began sea kayaking. I had an attempt at completing this in 2009 but was unsuccessful due to poor weather. 2018 will be the year that I put this adventure goal to bed and once I have, I'll feel more able to attempt other plans which have been mulling around in my mind. 

One question I ask myself and I have been asked this by a few other folks too, is - does undertaking these big adventures have a negative impact on the state of my mental health? Without opening up about what I struggle with when I'm in the midst of my depression, I do know that I long to be connected with wildness through some kind of outdoor adventure. Connection to wildness provides me with solace even in the darkest depths of my depression. One aspect of my adventuring lifestyle which I have come to appreciate, is how to reintegrate myself to my life at home and a more 'regular' lifestyle after long and challenging but incredibly rewarding kayaking adventure. Of course having worked as an Outward Bound Instructor and a Therapeutic Wilderness Guide for many years, I ought to understand the important process of transferring ones self from a powerful life altering outdoor experience to the normality of everyday life. I now understand how challenging this can be! The suddenness of the end of a journey can have an incredible impact and for me, and I've struggled to adapt after living a life of wild freedom and solitude. 

Given that I'm now paying attention to this, I'm excited to be undertaking the Three Peaks by Kayak and considering future adventures. It's a continually evolving process of self-awareness which doesn't end because I'm over fifty years old. In fact, I think that I'm learning more about myself now than I ever did in my earlier years. It's as if my life has been leading me to this - the path of the solo adventurer. Despite the risk of future depressive episodes, I have permission to challenge myself so that I continue to grow. 

This kayaking journey then, is as much a personal odyssey as it is a fund raising venture for Odyssey. I look forward to sharing the emerging insights I encounter on the way, as well as the everyday awe and wonder I will enjoy as I traverse the British coastline. 

Thank you for your interest and support. 

2018

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Nearly ten days into the New Year and I'm only now sharing my plans and aspirations for the twelve months ahead. Better late than never I suppose, so here goes.

I'm not a fan of loud and boisterous Hogmanay celebrations, preferring to see the year out with a small group of friends or family. I haven't reached the stage yet where I take myself off to bed to wake the next day to a new year. Neither do I sit gloomily in an armchair, clutching a dram with a curmudgeonly air, watching the clock for the midnight chimes. I enjoy the few hours leading up to the bells, where chatter and banter cheerfully ease me from one year to the next. There's always booze to enjoy and we make sure we have an array of tasty snacks on the go through the evening. It's a fun time in a 'fifty-plus years old' kind of way. 

The actual moment when the countdown begins and the bells chime is a movingly emotional juncture for me. My voice breaks and I feel tears welling in my eyes. This is the moment where I enter into a new contract with myself - to become the person I continually aspire to be. Invariably the year I am leaving will have been a mixed one, with challenges and triumphs in equal measure. There is no doubt that my struggle with depression will have played a big part during the year. The moment when the fireworks burst into the skies and people hug, kiss and wish each other every happiness, is the briefest of moments when the pains of the departing year are expunged and hope floods my senses. Amidst the tumult of bonhomie I look forwards, visualising myself embracing my life with vigour and positivity. After the celebration is over, it's always a pleasant experience drifting off to sleep in the wee hours of January 1st with sleepy dreams of exciting adventures on the horizon.

I do not call them resolutions but I do have a number of things I want to achieve in 2018. Like many folk I suppose, I begin the new year with high levels of motivation to tackle things I procrastinated over the year before. The challenge of course is keeping this motivation at a consistently high level to effect the changes and the learning I aspire to achieve. For many years I was a development trainer/coach and I'm an old hand at observing the process of initial enthusiasm slowly shifting towards lethargy and eventual disappointment. I understand what the usual contributing self-defeating factors towards this might be. I see these all too clearly in myself. In the opening hours of the year I resolve not to allow these factors to get the better of me - as they did the year before, and well, all the years before that.

As I always advised folks to do, I have chosen a manageable number of aspirations to work towards, rather than create a long and unwieldy list. I remember likening setting post-course goals to work towards akin to packing a rucksack for a wilderness expedition. Pack what is essential and not carry too many things to cut back on the weight. Where possible, share the load too. Trying to cram too much into the rucksack will leave it overladen, jumbled and impossible to find what is necessary because this'll be buried under non-essential stuff. Again, akin to many successful expeditions, it's essential to understand personal limitations and abilities, thus realising the likelihood of a realistically achievable outcome. I've found with my expeditions that they require purpose, something tangible, which makes them meaningful and provide me with the determination I require to see them through. The same is true with setting new year goals for myself - they need purpose, so that I'm purposeful in working towards achieving them. Finally, to bring the alliteration of the wilderness expedition to a close, it needs to be enjoyable, even if at times the sense of challenge may seem overwhelming.

The common sabotaging blocks in achieving my goals are my lack of self-belief, procrastination, not attending to immediate matters to address developing situations, becoming distracted, a poorly organised approach, and allowing a sense of failure determine whether I progress or not. Neither am I good at drawing on any learning from my achievements and successes, instead preferring to dwell on where I think I'm failing. It's ironic how aware of this process I am, yet allow it to play out time and again. 

This year's first aspiration is to not allow this to happen for 2018. I will nip any self-defeating behaviour in the bud and draw on inspiration from my recent kayaking and other adventurous successes. If I attend to this aspiration as the overarching goal, then the list which follows ought to be well within my reach. It all seems so very easy!

Here's the short list of what I want to achieve in 2018. In fact I will change this, it is the list of what I will achieve in 2018.

  • Kayak the Three Peaks.
  • Kayak to Muckle Flugga from Tobermory and back.
  • Complete writing "Strong Winds are Forecast", the book about my 2015 journey.
  • Establish a You Tube "LifeAfloat" channel and make at least two films a month for this.
  • Sail our yacht at least twice every month when the weather allows.
  • Become proficient in addressing and resolving electrical issues on the boat.
  • Make contact with all the important friends in my life.
  • Teach myself twelve Scottish folk tunes on my tin-whistle.
  • Watercolour painting at least once a month.

The list is self-explanatory and contains some demanding items to achieve. I can see which of these will require the greater attention to prevent procrastination and as I write this I'm aware of a my determination to not allow this to happen. Already I have pleasantly surprised myself by not succumbing to the temptations of avoidance and distraction when I had recently set myself the task to settle down to write. The feeling of achievement at the end of a successfully busy day is sufficient reward indeed. 

This blog entry outlines the contract I have set with myself and by sharing it here, I'm inviting you to play a role in the success of my new year aspirations, by checking in with me from time to time and holding me to account. For example it might be that you ask me to post a recording of me playing one of the tunes I have learned on my tin-whistle! However you  interact with me, I will accept your interest and support with gratitude.

So then, 2018 is under way and I'm looking forward to seeing how it unfolds. It's not a case of leaving this to chance because of course, I have the means to influence the outcomes I'm aspiring for. I sincerely hope that the same is true for you too and that this year is a wonderful one for you in so many ways.

Dear Reader - my warmest wishes to you for a happy and fulfilling 2018.