| Having joined the team a little later than last year, I had no time to waste. Work begun the very next day, opening up the campsite and preparing for another busy season as campsite warden. Though I was lucky enough to be able to stay in a self-catering cottage for a few weeks, I couldn’t wait to open up my old place, The Love Shak. The glorified shed I call my summer home is full of memories, and cobwebs. Everything was as I had left it; little did I know last year that I would be the one to live in it again in 2006.
The early weeks of the season were filled with the same routine as last year; getting to know people, partying and working hard. Occasionally I had severe flashbacks, so little had changed and there were quite a few faces who have also returned. Sometimes, I thought I had just awoken from a monumental hangover and that it was still 2005, and I had been nowhere. |
| . |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
| Journal - |
| October 7th, 2006 > back to Herm for the Summer |
|
| I was a bit uncomfortable having to get on a plane to leave Beijing, as if I was breaking the rules of my challenge. But to backtrack overland was out of the question, both financially and time wise. Therefore, I reconciled myself in the knowledge that I was heading west and not covering any new ground, taking nothing away from the journey as a whole.
Like anybody after a long flight, I was a bit tired and grubby so I headed straight for my favourite London hostel to get my head down. Unfortunately, in my absence it had closed after a major fire. Calling around every other hostel in the area, I discovered it was a holiday weekend and everywhere was full. Therefore, I spent the next two hours knocking on the doors of those overpriced, dilapidated, little guesthouses that abound in London, until I finally found a bed. Notwithstanding an underground train rattling past my window every few minutes, I slept soundly that night. There was time to spend a lovely night at the theatre, to see Phantom of Opera, before flying out to the Channel Islands early the following day. Within hours, I was aboard my old friend Trident V, the ferry service for Herm Island. I really had not expected to be riding on this boat again so soon! I could not wait to get back onto the little island I so fell in love with last year. The excitement of seeing old friends and meeting new folk carried on late into that first night, back in the Mermaid Tavern. |
| I made myself a promise when I decided to return for this season. In contrast to last year, this was treated as a bit of a break after two years of saving hard, I would have to save money. This was, after all, my main motivation for breaking the journey. This of course translates into spending less time in the tavern. I have spent more of my spare time doing the things that come free; kayaking, fishing and snorkelling.
Still, all work and no play is not good. I have managed to put away some sensational meals, and just like last year, we organised several of our world famous beach parties. I did find a new way to squander my money, in feeding my latest habit of going on trips to the neighbouring island of Sark. A mere three miles across a particularly bumpy bit of sea, this island is altogether a different place to my island. Somewhat larger than Herm, Sark has a year round population of up to five hundred. Thus, its infrastructure is a little more developed and the community spread over a larger area. Still with no roads and absolutely no use of the internal combustion engine, other than essential tractors, Sark is probably most well known for a different kind of horsepower, of the four-legged kind. Alternatively, most people use rickety old bicycles to get around, and with no lighting of any kind, journeys to and from the pubs at night can be interesting. |
|
| check out the country profiles below - they took ages to write! |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
| Where on earth? |
|
Sark is steeped in a unique history all of its own, and has the only feudal government in Europe. In contrast to Herm, which is run as a single business, the natives here derive a living from private enterprise. Farming and fishing are important, as is chocolate making and art. The island is very much geared to tourism, but of a different kind. With few beaches and a prohibitively expensive ferry service, it attracts very few day-trippers. Instead, people come here to fish, relax or write books. There are several hotels and restaurants offering cottage style accommodation and superb seafood, and visitors tend to be older and stay longer. This is a fascinating island and rather than me rattling on about it, I suggest you visit the Sark website to learn more yourself.
Back on Herm, time passes quickly. As is usual, staff have shuffled around and I have a new campsite assistant, Matt from Wales. He has worked alongside me right the way through, and has proved fun to be around and popular with the punters. As a permanent resident, and with my promise not to return, it seems he will take over next season as the warden. Wile, my South African assistant and good mate from last year, stayed all winter and moved onto the truckie gang, the guys that take care of all general island work and help out with transporting luggage. |
| The weather has been typically British. A gloomy spring was ruined by two weeks of gale force wind. On top of the island, we felt the full force of it and often had to be up in the middle of the night knocking pegs in. July brought soaring temperatures and drought, and then sadly August (peak season) descended into chaos with heavy rain and more wind. But I guess I had it too easy last year. It was a huge disappointment for the island, which only has these precious few weeks to pay the bills and break into a profit. |
| The emergency services have been kept busy this year. On several occasions, it has been necessary to medivac people off the island using the superb Flying Christine ambulance boat. Herm has also been involved in two large-scale air and sea search operations. The first were two kayakers that were caught out in a bad swell off the back of the island. Luckily for them, it was not a day to be out of your kayak for long, the lifeboat found and retrieved them.
The second case actually made international news as far away as New Zealand. A missing diver, who had initiated a search involving hundreds of people, boats and helicopters, was pulled out alive after fifty-six hours in the wet stuff. People were rightly impressed. That is, until questions begun to be asked. During this time, rumours were rife; it was an elaborate story to cover himself while knocking around with his mistress; he was involved with drug running; he had been saved by a caring pod of Dolphins; he had, of course, been abducted by aliens. It eventually turned out he had lost his mind and left his gear on the beach, went on a jolly trip to the UK, then returned and thrown himself in the sea and awaited a pick up. The craziest part of this whole story is that he never got charged for part of the estimated GBP 30,000 the search operation cost. I enjoy any time I can get at sea, and always volunteer for crewing on the island boats when I can. This usually involves going on Herm’s own cargo vessel, the Herm Sea Horse. We have a new skipper this year, Matt, and he does not seem to mind me getting involved, practising my limited skills on the ropes or messing about with the GPS. On a recent Monday morning, sailing time off Herm was 0600 hrs. We were catching the tail end of a hurricane, and the sea state was predicted to worsen later on, so the cargo details had been adjusted to give us a lighter load. The outgoing crossing was a little choppy, but uneventful, and by 0900 we were loaded with slightly more than planned, but ready to sail. Now I often mentioned last year the incredible tides we get around the islands, in fact the second highest tidal range in the world, from 0.2 to 10 metres. That massive volume of water is squeezed between our island and Guernsey, through the three-mile gap known as the Little Russell. Organising cargo is a logistical conundrum, fitting in around suppliers, weather, island needs and the tides, the latter that change every single day. We have less than three hours after high tide to make it back to Herm and unload before our harbour dries out altogether. Today, the tide was on the run North to South with a strengthening southerly wind creating a massive swell. As we left the shelter of St.Peter Port harbour, our little vessel hit the full force of it. Matt ordered life jackets on, and I had to virtually peel his hands free of the helm to put his on for him. I then had to go out on deck and bolt down engine room hatches and vents. Exciting? Definitely! Above the groaning of our single engine, the only other noises were of crashing water and the metallic buckling of our hull under the stress of the heavy sea. There was absolute silence between Matt & I as he faced his first Channel Island storm in his new vessel (he is rather more used to sailing yachts, and the cargo boat has the properties of a house brick in the water). Our only way to make progress eastwards was to tack north then south, first facing the swell then running with it. Each time we powered up a wave, eased off then rolled down the other side, me holding my breath in time. Turning on to a north tack, we kind of surfed as the swell was running as fast as we could go. At the other end, the cargo was unloaded with minutes to spare, and another Monday morning was out of the way! |
| I continued to pester companies with requests of sponsorship and my persistence has finally paid off. So I would like to introduce the first company brave enough to support The Wander Years – Lowe Alpine. I am proud that this site has achieved a standard whereby a popular brand has agreed to be a part of it. The terms of my offer mean that you will notice little if any change to this site. It is not going commercial and will never be covered in lots of sponsored links or adverts. I simply and proudly display their logo on these pages, with a link. Occasionally their product, in this case a shiny new backpack, will get a tasteful mention in the journal text when it is relevant to the trip. It just so happens that my previous pack was of the same brand; it covered many miles and survived plenty of abuse. I can testify to the quality of their product and fully recommend a visit to their site if you are looking to buy equipment. It seems everyone has left a little earlier this year. Either way, before I could stop to think where summer had gone, it was time to begin the mammoth task of packing away and making plans for onward travel. It has been quite an emotional time, and the feeling of leaving definitely feels more final than the last. Don’t get me wrong, I am looking forward to getting back into this trip. But Herm is a very special place. It is a place of wild scenery, solitude, close friends and varied work. It is a place that will remain in my memory forever. Certainly if it was not for my current plans, I would relish the chance to live permanently on the island a few years. To my fellow workers, employers and campers – thank you for another good year. |
| High Seas.... High Drama... |
| I am actually writing this now from China. It seems, as last time, I will have all sorts of fun and games updating. Connections are erratic at best, and I just can’t get my website past government censors; so will in all likelihood be working blind. This journal, short and low on substance as it is, was just a rundown to let you know what I have been up to while I get back into the travel groove.
I have barely been here twenty-four hours, and already things have happened to me that I am sure do not to others. The next part of the journey will be even more exciting, with a volatile climate, interesting food and mixture of religions. Stay tuned for tales from the Far East, coming soon to a screen near you! |
| On a personal level, much has happened. Most notably, my sister finally gave birth to a new baby son, called Malachi. We were beginning to wonder if it would ever actually come out. All that agonising paperwork has finally paid off, and my passport now contains the all-important residency permit, meaning I can now stay in New Zealand permanently (if I ever make it back there). |
 |
| For those new readers of The Wander Years, and I am pleased to say there are quite a few, I should explain what on earth I am doing here. Herm is a tiny, idyllic, little island with no roads or cars, fine sandy beaches and a close community of around fifty people. It lies among the Channel Islands and happens to be just three miles across the sea from Guernsey, making it a popular destination for day-trippers and short term, short haul holidaymakers. The island offers accommodation in the form of an excellent hotel, self-catering cottages and a large camping site, the latter being my domain. This little place was responsible for delaying my journey by more than six months last year. I finally broke free, covered some distance as my travel journals will testify, but like a raunchy women that would not let me go, I came back.
Anyway, my point is that I wrote many thousands of words about life on Herm last year. In fact, I knocked out seven journals in total. You might think that an island, less than two miles long by half a mile wide, could not possibly provide much material for posting on a travel journal. You’d be wrong. I could not stop writing. I covered the gossip (though in the interest of good taste, I omitted the juiciest bits), day to day life and side trips to other islands. Each time I did a profile of a random worker or two, and wrote about the various services that keep Herm running; such as the fire team, the world’s smallest prison and even the little church. Along the way, I gave a run-down of the island’s fascinating history from Neolithic times to the present. There is little point in writing that lot again, so if you are interested I would suggest you visit the journal archives. In there, you can find every journal going right back to day one, and of course entries covering the first half of my trip from London to Beijing. Hermites, as the resident year rounders are known, rarely miss a chance to have a knees-up. The summer could not have got off to a better or bigger start than the party of the year; Mel’s 40th B-day and coincidently his 20th year on Herm. Mel, who essentially runs the nerve centre of the island in the office, likes to do things properly. He hired a huge marquee set amid the lush gardens of the White House hotel. The black tie dress code ensured all of his nearly two hundred friends looked the part. A special ferry brought guests to the island for the evening, and Robbie Williams provided entertainment. Well, ok, maybe not the real one. However, the entertaining guy who came in his place is nationally in much demand. He is uncannily good, though I suspect by the way he tried to steal our limited supply of females he probably carries on the act a little too eagerly. Like most residents, Mel came here as a mere seasonal worker and never quite got around to leaving. Prior to that, he has travelled worldwide and managed a restaurant in Australia’s Blue Mountains. He is a key figure on the island, dealing with everything from accommodation bookings to brochure requests, mindless questions from tourists and ordering cargo. He is a no-nonsense kind of guy, and I am glad to call him a friend. I am also glad he invited me to his bash; we ate heavenly food and drank fine wine into the wee hours. |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Possibly one of my crazyest business decisions to date.... I won the contract to paint all the white bits on the low water landing steps. I split the job with Wile, to be done in out own time. Working around bad weather, tides, incoming boats, tourists and heaven knows what else - it took us months. And the profits? They were all spent in the Tavern, waiting for the tide to go down low enough! I won't even mention the white footprints that appeared all over the floor in the pub... we forgot to put the sign out! And the white spots on the hotel managers expensive suit? Nothing to do with us...... |
 |
 |
| No Herm journal could be complete without a look at some of our hot Hermite Chickies on a girly night out! Get a look at 'em! |
| The Wander Years finally gets a sponsor... |
 |
 |
| No time this year for more extravagant goodbye’s and visits; I jumped straight onto a plane bound for London, and after a brief overnight stop, I was soon checking in for a direct flight to Beijing. Heathrow is trialling a new security system, an X-ray machine that effectively removes your cloths. Volunteers such as me can jump the long lines of people waiting to pass through security, in return baring all for the camera, without having to remove a single garment. I persuaded the man in the booth to let me see my image, and I was most impressed. Some guys get all the best jobs. It can only be a matter of time before they find a way to get this technology into an ordinary pair of sunglasses. |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| The Wander Years is proud to be supported by Lowe Alpine UK |