Tag: thedelosdiaries

Night is descending upon Delos and I am sitting here surrounded by the Delos Crew. Brady is cooking, everyone is freshly showered and I am recovering from an epic hangover.

It’s been a strange few days.

Four days ago I received some bad news.

Maybe I should just go back to that day.

I felt good, positive and happy. I had porridge in my belly and two cups of tea already down the hatch. I had a long list of goals I wanted to complete and good focus.

I check my phone to find a message from my friend, Tommy.

Now none of you know my friend Tommy, or maybe some of you do. Tommy and I have been friends since I was fifteen years old- so, thirteen years in total. He’s been there for me from the beginning. Words seem to fail me when I try and describe what this human means to me. He has been there for me through countless situations when I needed someone. He’s pushed me home in a trolley when I couldn’t walk, he’s dragged me out of bed when I refused to get up, he’s fed me when I didn’t want to eat and placed a rum in my hand when I was sitting outside, numb and dumbstruck by the event that changed things for me back in England.

I remember sitting outside at my housemate Steve’s house. It was Spring, the sun was beaming and I was still adapting to my surroundings.

He pressed a cold glass into my hand and I looked down at it, seeing the swirling black liquid and smiled.

“Everything is going to be alright, lass,” he said, taking a seat opposite me. “It may not feel like it now. But it will.”

I nodded back, trusting him, believing him.

And he was right.

Everything became good again.

Fast forward a year and I am staring at my phone seeing his message.

“Give me a call please mate.”

I know he doesn’t ask for me to call him unless it’s important.

So I do so, ideas running in my head. My worst fear is that something has happened to him.

But it’s not him that something bad has happened to.

It’s someone else.

Another friend.

I hear him speak and in my heart I knew what hurt me the most was the sound in his voice and knowing I wasn’t there with him.

I broke down immediately and I was incredibly grateful for Alex the newest member of the crew. She stood up straight away and gave me a hug.

The next few hours were difficult. I was so acutely aware of affecting the others with my sadness that I didn’t know what to do. I never like to tell people if I’m feeling down as I don’t like to affect other people with my problems. I don’t want people to ever be brought down by my energy. I want to be able to make people feel good.

But on Delos that isn’t the way. We live so close together that we have to share anything. Honesty is so important here. If one of us hurts, we all hurt. We all pitch in to bring that person back up. It just so happened to be my turn.

So I got hugs, cuddles and chats on the docks until the weight of the pain was lifted from my shoulders. I was honest in the days that followed. I spoke about my friend Jack who had passed, told the crew when I needed a hug, and when I felt low. I spoke about my buddy Tommy, shared stories and played his songs on Delos.

It helped so much, to hear my mate’s voice fill the boat when all I wanted to do was give him a hug and tell him exactly what he told me.

“It’ll be all right. It may not seem it now but it will be.”

And the beauty of a tragedy is that it brings people together. The boys at home are spending time together, going on adventures and remembering Jack. Tommy is with good people and they can all thrive off each other’s energy, bring each other up when they are falling.

And me?

Jack passing has made me feel even closer to the Delos Crew. We are all such a varied bunch on here with our own individual personalities and unique strengths. We all bring something different to our new family but one thing is the same.

We all care deeply for one another.

Jack was such a special spirit that his passing has made this adventure even more paramount. This is it. This really is the path I’m on. I wake up every morning so grateful that I’m here. Because life is so fickle. It can end any moment. I really need to seize each day and stop worrying about tomorrow. I need to be present and in the now.

I had a phone call conversation with my dad a few days ago and he said:

“What is your business plan after sailing?”

I blinked in surprise. I had always been used to thinking several steps ahead. But it was that that made me unhappy. I had finally managed to start appreciating being where I was each day that to think of the future frightened me. I knew my path would be evident eventually. I didn’t want to force my path.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, the phone hot against my cheek. “I don’t have one. I’m just trying to be in the now to be honest…”

This month has given me a sense of clarity that I have been looking for in a very long time. I’ve learned more about myself than I thought I would and I know there is still a road ahead. We leave for Namibia next week and I’m so excited to learn how to sail. To be on the ocean.

There will be no internet, no checking emails or social media. We will simply be six people living alongside each other. The outside world will be cut off. And I’m looking forward to that.

I’m looking forward to figuring out more about myself and the people around me. I’m looking forward to the challenges ahead and finding some sense of goodness and peace.

And the best part?

I get to do it as part of the Delos family.

It’s been another busy day at SV Delos.

We’ve been busy packing away the late night food delivery by our good friend Ian and trying to figure out where to put everything.

I have a well-deserved rum at my side and Brian is busy chuckling away at his computer screen. Lisa the Austrian has put on some super chill tunes, Karin is already fast asleep and Brady is doing God knows what in his love nest.

The boys have been working hard to work out how to prepare for the new generator on the boat and the girls have been sweating below deck, vacuum packing rice, pasta, porridge and a seemingly hundred bags of spices.

I avoided a near disaster today.

But let me start at the beginning.

Two days ago, Brian and Karin’s toilet became blocked.

Let me set the scene. There are two toilets on Delos. One is by Karin and Brian’s bedroom, separated by Lisa’s “love tunnel” bed, which then leads to the kitchen and lounge. Another toilet is by the kitchen and lounge and beyond that is Mr Brady’s love nest/sex den/red room of pain.

So, you either have a choice of pooping between two (usually) empty bedrooms or between Mr Brady’s room and the lounge where everyone sleeps. Now, Mr Brady is usually in his room anyway working and there’s always someone sitting at the table, so the safest choice for uttermost privacy is Brian and Karin’s bathroom.

It just so happened that one day the toilet got blocked and Brian was forced to investigate.

I wrinkled my nose as I walk towards him on the docks, inspecting Brian hunched over with a teeny tiny motor, pocking at it and inspecting it with a cloth in hand. He’s wearing his usual “I’m working” green oil stained Delos t shirt and green sunglasses, his fingertips stained with the unthinkable as he starts pulling hair from the mini motor.

I look up to see Lisa the Austrian pointing a camera at me.

“So Miss England has blocked the toilet,” Brian is saying, and I can hear the sneaky grin on his face.

“What?” I protest. “That wasn’t me!”

“It’s black hair, Elizabeth,” Brian argues, pulling more hair from the mechanical part to illustrate his point.

“You’ve got black hair! And it’s short hair coming out of that thing!”

“Nah, the motor has chopped it up- pretty sure it’s yours!”

“How do you feel about this, Miss England?” Lisa asks, her accent lilting up and down in a mesmerising fashion (I always love hearing her talk).

“I don’t appreciate these accusations!” I snort, snapping back to reality, determined to not have the blame. “It must be Brian or Brady’s man-scaping habits.”

Brian shrugs suddenly. “I wouldn’t put it past Brady.”

I raise an eyebrow as I haughtily step onto Delos. “As if I’d be stupid enough to block the toilet, Briiiiian.”

Fast forward to today.

We’ve all been working super hard and the arrival of Bryn, our buddy, heralds the time for a well-deserved break and a bite to eat down at the Waterfront near the docks.

“You girls want to get something to eat?” Brian shouts to us below deck.

We stop what we’re doing instantly, scrambling for our backpacks and to throw something more appropriate than just a sports bra and shorts.

I jump into Brady’s bathroom and decide that using a facewipe is quicker than washing my face.

“Come on, England!” I can hear Brian shouting.

“I’m coming!” I yell, trying to pee, spray deodorant and refresh my face at the same time. I’m hungry and all thought leaves my mind. I throw the facewipe down the toilet and press “flush.”

Uh Oh.

The flush splutters slightly, and I think nothing of it. It’s Brady’s toilet after all. He’s been ill recently and I’m sure the place has already witnessed some horrors. I skip off the boat, my body relaxing beneath the glare of the African sun and fall into step next to Lisa.

Uh Oh.

The facewipe.

I turn to Lisa. “Mate…”

“Yes?”

“I’ve done something bad…”

I tell her and her expression falls. “Ooooh, that’s baaad,” she says, genuine concern turning her petite face. “That’s not good.”

I know it’s a big deal if Lisa says it’s a big deal.

I have a moment of pure dread. I do not want to be the person who blocks up a toilet and has to get someone elbow deep in shite to fix the problem I’ve caused. This is made worse by the fact that Brian just had to fix his loo and the fact that I got a teased that it was my fault.

Now it really was.

Now I’m embarrassed. No- I’m mortified. I wish I can go back and throw that god damn wipe in the bin. Sounds like a small deal? I’m sure it is. But if there’s ever a scenario where you have to get your mate to deal with poo then I can assure you it’s never a good one.

I’m English. I’m from a land where manners are everything. Getting your mate’s hands covered in shite isn’t the way to build relationships.

Debatably.

I tell the crew and they then have a theory of how they can punish me so I never do it again.

“Ok,” Brian says, his beard stained with mayonnaise from his Burrito. “You have a choice. You can A- not go to the toilet for an entire day, B- forgo tea, or C-“ His face lights up only in the way when someone believes they have found a glorious conclusion, “can’t speak for 24 hours.”

I frown at him, wondering at the spark in his eye. I narrow my gaze, inspecting everyone’s mirth at my fateful choice. There is no choice. Only one.

 “The tea,” I say solemnly.

It was a tough decision- but not pooping or speaking is far worse. Plus- no one said anything about coffee, right?

We return to the boat, continue with our chores and I insist I will help with the toilet.

“Oh don’t worry, mate,” Mr Brady assures me. “You’ll be helping.”

He then calls me into the toilet and I can feel a wave of English embarrassment hit me.

Oh Gawwwwwwwwwwd, my mind is screaming, watching him pick up a huge plunger and shove it into the toilet bowl.

No, no, no, no no!

He wiggles it and starts pumping it up and down, his body bobbing up and down comically with the motion.

My pride is on the edge and I’m waiting for his verdict. Do we have to open the toilet and how much of Brady’s poop am I going to get on my hands?

The answer?

None.

“Looks all good mate,” he says, testing out the flush.

To my joy, the water is spinning below and there’s no flood of poop.

I go back on deck for a mini break and sigh with relief, my pride somehow still intact by a thread. I tell Brian that all is well.

“Does that mean we can lift the tea ban?” I tentatively ask.

He nods in that slow and calm way of his. “I’m sure because of the circumstances we can lift it this one time.”

I nod and suddenly can enjoy the sun again, glad no one has had poop on their hands because of me.

That would have been a “shit” situation.

Har Har.

Ok, a quick update is needed here of some of the things that have happened. We’ve been preparing for our voyage to Namibia, which includes preparing the boat, fixing anything that seems to go wrong and stocking up Delos for a mountain of food.

I had always dreaded doing the food provisioning, finding it stressful to watch on their YouTube channel more than anything. I would always turn to my house mate, Steve and mutter, “God, I would hate to do that.”

Four hours, a car adventure, losing my crew about four times in Macro whilst being sent off on a product finding mission, Lisa, Karin and I have finally gotten six cow’s worth of milk under the bilge and we’re trying to figure out how to best stash the Weetabix and a hundred other more items.

Who’s Lisa and Karin? Karin is the Captain’s fair lady from Sweden and Lisa is our newest crew member from Austria. I can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone quite like these two ladies. They are so unique and inspiring in their journeys that makes me want to be a better person. Do more. Try harder. Believe more. Anything is possible- it must be- because I’m here on Delos.

I’m finding each day precious, trying to appreciate the moments shared with my new adopted family. Living in such close quarters there’s nothing hidden between anyone. And I love that. There’s a frankness to conversation, an openness that comes with a sense of family.

For once in a long time I actually feel like I belong somewhere. I am not craving for anywhere else. I am content. I go to bed each night happy and wake up to a cup of tea to the side of my bunk that Lisa (who I fondly call Austria) makes for me each morning.

Brian the Captain is still struggling to perfect his tactics of making a good cuppa. I think it may be because he’s American? It’s the only (and very weak) excuse that I can think of.

He passes me a cup of tea and I look down at it, examining its colour. I blink again, realising that he has left the teabag inside, including the spoon. I look back up at him, wondering whether he knows his mistake.

“There you go, mate,” he says, sitting back down.

Apparently not.

It’s only at 5am on his birthday (or the day after) where we are having a very drunk conversation about world hunger (it started from Brian chasing after a seal down the docks and Brady telling him off,) that I actually bring it up.

“Well, you can make your own god damn cup of tea next time!” he slurs.

“I’m only trying to help you,” I babble blearily eyed back. “How can you improve if I don’t tell you, eh?”

He blinks at me in either astonishment of my cheek or because he can’t understand my drunk Midlands accent (it happens quite often).

We’re all feisty that night after Brady and Brian have a heated discussion why the seal should be left alone after it hisses at us as we pass it (Brady: “he’s only sleeping, bro!”), and why it should be shown a lesson so it doesn’t learn bad habits towards humans. (Brian: “You can’t let it get away with stuff like that, man”).

(Seals flop onto the docks where the boats are and you have to scare them off so you can safely walk past.) Either way, I’m watching the conversation between the two brothers as they become more sassy like a ping pong tournament. I’m confused, thirsty and bemused.

We talk heatedly about helping beggars in the street, feeding the hungry and an argument about putting yourself first versus looking after others. We cover everything as drunkards will and argue as families do.

No discussion is serious though, and the love is evident after hugs, laughter, “I love yous” and back clapping.

It’s a lot to ask three people to open their home and welcome two strangers on board. There’s always those first few days where you’re trying to figure things out and discover where your place is, what you can give, what you can contribute and making sure you get on with everybody.

I know in the first few days I worried about what I could give. About whether I would be liked. Wanted. There’s always a need to feel as though I belong in a place- I think it’s because I’ve moved around so much and haven’t had a permanent fixture in such a long time. Maybe it’s what I’ve been searching all this time. Isn’t everyone? Delos is helping me realise that. But I’ve found it’s not where I am, it’s who I’m with that makes me feel at home. Nevertheless, there’s a warmth below deck that is saturated with the fun times that have been had. There’s a positive energy and optimism that is indented with every pane of wood.

Because that’s what the Delos Project is all about.

Explore. Inspire. Repeat.

I’ve been in Cape Town for 4 weeks now and I can already feel the difference in my soul thanks to these people.

I feel as though when I came here, I had a few fractures to fill in my heart and soul. I left the UK to follow a dream and work on myself- inspired by Delos. And by God did I have a lot to work on. Back in England I constantly had my friends and house parties to distract myself from any internal pain I felt. It was only when I was completely alone in Perth when I was forced to acknowledge these feelings and had to face with working on some good ol’ healing methods.

My path has been foggy for a long time and I think instead of worrying where the horizon is all the time, maybe it’s just good to enjoy the views that you can see- take in the colours, shapes, sounds and sensations. Because at the end of the day that’s when you are appreciating life. When you’re living in the now.

It’s been a full day of preparing for our voyage and my bunk is calling to me. We’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow in packing away the rest of the provisioning that we’ve abandoned on deck, but I’m looking forward to it. It’s a cause that I am passionate about. It’s an adventure that I can’t wait to embark on.

That I’m already on.