Hawkesford - A Foolish Voyage: Self-Discovery At Sea

To Mom & Dad for living with my foolishness all these years.

To Gail for sharing in it.

To Mor Gwas for starting it.

Author: Neil F. Hawkesford

Publisher: Neil F. Hawkesford

Website: www.neilhawkesford.com

Twitter: @FoolishNeil

Copyright 2015 Neil Hawkesford

All rights reserved.

This is the story of my adventures aboard 'Mor Gwas,' the little boat that was my home for a couple of years a long time ago. Its the story of how I came to own her, the good times I had aboard her, and how I lost her after I tried to sail across the Bay of Biscay single-handed.

Its been hard writing this stuff down. The events I describe affected me deeply. It wasnt until I started writing that I realised how deeply. I found that time had simply numbed my feelings, the pain and the pleasure were still there, raw as when I first experienced them. There were tears when some of these things happened. There were tears when I wrote about them thirty years later.

Maya Angelou once said There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. I can testify to the truth in those words.

I've chosen to call my book 'A Foolish Voyage' because many will think it was.

Ill admit to being foolish, I was then and I am now. But Im a fan of foolishness.

Many great people have praised foolishness The Greek philosopher Epictetus said, if you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid.

And of course, Steve Jobs said, stay young, stay foolish". I'm following his advice.

I make no apology for the foolishness that follows.

ONE

I found the harness quick release by feel as the clouds of choking red dust made it impossible to see. The car had come to rest upside down in a ditch after barrel rolling three or four times. My helmet was hard up against the roof as I dropped my legs onto the underside of the dashboard and twisted myself out through the smashed side window. I crawled out of the wreckage, calling out for my navigator as I did so. Dave, Dave are you OK? Dave.

He shouted back, Yeah Im here, Im fine, are you getting out or what?.

Dave, it seemed, had wasted no time in exiting the car and was standing up on the bank a few yards away.

I climbed up to join him and sat down in the soft dusty grass. As he took off his helmet Dave started laughing, I told you that bend tightened, but you kept it planted didnt you?

He was right, Id long since realised that once committed to a bend there was rarely any point in lifting or braking and hell, wed nearly got away with it. But the rear wheels had dropped into an ever deepening ditch and as we were travelling sideways at about 50mph there was only ever going to be one outcome.

I looked down at the underside of my faithful MkII Ford Escort, it looked like the floor pan was the only straight panel left on the car.

We'd had a biggy that's for sure and I was grateful that Dave and I had escaped uninjured, but I was hurting none the less. I knew this was it, we were at the end of the road, I was broke and there was no way I could afford to get the car repaired. This time, there was no coming back.

Id lived and breathed rallying for years, it was going to leave a big hole in my life. As I sat and watched the other cars pass by I wondered how on earth I was going to fill it.

TWO

The following Monday morning saw me cycling to work as usual. I had a job as Warranty Clerk in a local garage, but as I pedalled into town it struck me that my reason for working there was written off same as my car.

Id only taken the job because of my rallying. It was a bike ride away which meant it didnt matter if the car was in bits at home (it usually was between events). Not only that but it gave me access to tools and spares at trade prices, and, of course, it paid the bills. That said it was mind-numbingly boring and now I began to wonder why I should carry on doing it.

The job had been no fun for a while anyway as thered been rumours of redundancies and closure flying about the place for months. Everyone I worked with was pissed off and the atmosphere was generally tense and unhappy.

To be honest Id been as worried as everyone else because losing my job would have endangered my rallying, now it didn't seem to matter. Maybe thats what led to the events that followed a few weeks later.

One morning at tea-break, the guys we were all sitting around gassing about the latest rumours when Derek Allen the workshop manager came into the canteen for a brew.

As usual he was bombarded with questions, but he just shrugged his shoulders and gave his by now monotonous impression of Manuel from Fawlty Towers saying I know nothing.

By then Id reached a point where I just didnt care, Id had enough of all this nonsense and without a thought I stood up and said, This is f***g ridiculous, Im going to see Barfield and ask him what the f**ks going on".

Barfield was the recently appointed General Manager, most of us believed he'd been put in place as the hatchet man.

As I walked out of the canteen Derek shook his head Oh no Neil dont, leave things lie, well know soon enough. I ignored him.

Barfield's office sat just off the main new car showroom and was surrounded by glass so I could see he was at his desk. I knocked on the door and walked in. He knew who I was as my job required me to work with the sales staff in the showroom but if he knew my name he didnt use it. Yes, what do you want, he said dropping his pen on the desk.

I kept things simple, I told him that all these rumours of redundancy were causing real pain to folks on the shop floor and that work was suffering. I asked if there was anything he could tell us that would help clear the air.

While I was talking, I could see that he was getting redder and redder in the face, until suddenly, he launched himself out of his leather chair. He drew himself up to his full 55 and screamed at me. Redundancy! Redundancy! If youre so f***g interested in redundancy you can be the first one to go. Youre redundant, get your stuff and get off the premises now!

Over his shoulder, I could see out to the showroom where Liz, one of the Sales girls, was standing with a middle-aged couple. She'd been using all her charms to try and sell them a new Mini Metro, but now she'd stopped talking and all three of them were staring with their mouths wide open. Mr Barfields words had reached their ears too.

Shocked as I was Ive long had the somewhat rare talent of being able to remain calm when all those around me have lost it, and so it was now. I calmly replied, Im sorry Mr Barfield, but you cant make me redundant just like that", his response was even more maniacal.

Yes, yes I can, I can do anything I like, Im the f****g General Manager! Now perhaps I should have taken this a bit more seriously, and maybe the fact that Id just survived a high-speed motorsport accident gave me a different perspective on things, but I couldn't help but find the whole thing amusing. The workshop managers recent Manuel impression had bought to mind Fawlty Towers and now it seemed that Mr Barfield was intent on doing a Basil Fawlty loses it impression. I held back from laughing but I guess my quizzical smile didnt help his mood any and as I turned to leave his office he came round from behind his desk and followed me out still ranting. Get back to your office, get your coat, get off the premises, you're redundant as of now

As I walked slowly back towards the workshop he stormed ahead of me, and by the time I reached my office door all the workshop lads had downed tools and were stood staring in amazement.