With very considerable trepidation we entered the Tao tours office in El Nido for our pre tour briefing. We ducked in, getting out of the light drizzle. This was shortly after we had both received the first of many national Emergency weather alerts. Four days at sea beckoned. In a shallow hulled local Bangca trimaran. In a country known to suffer some of the most severe storms in the world.
As it happened, the weather turned out to be good. We need not have worried. But hindsight is a wonderful thing.
A thousand insecurities had assailed us as we had prepared. How would we cope? Would we be eaten alive by mosquitos , sand flies, or unfriendly natives? Would we be able to sleep in an open sided hut on a beach front? How true was our assumption that we could cope without aircon on a desert island? Would we be able to eat the local food? Which illness would get us first, scurvy, sea sickness, or more likely the screaming shits?
But overarching all of this was our concern about our fellow shipmates. How would a boat load of diverse travellers take to a couple of elderly wannabe hippies like us?
First contact was immediate and unexpected. Eye contact followed by a very warm 'Hello!' The big bosomed lady with the Dutch accent in the front row of seats engaged immediately. Her ad-lib lines were well rehearsed I thought, amusing myself with my dodgy Rod Stewart reference. I assumed she was alone.
The two mid forty something gents beside me exchanged a few words and a cigarette with each other again in Dutch, a couple of free spirited world travellers, shagging their dirty way around the world if ever I've seen them, I thought accusingly.
We sat down and glanced around.
An Iberian group had formed up in the back row opposite. Chattering animatedly in Spanish.
A fabulously beautiful young couple entered and sat quietly together holding hands. I overheard what I thought was German whispering from them. I assumed a footballer and his WAG. I felt at home, too beautiful to have had to develop personalities, much like myself!
Two lads, probably mid 20's, and clearly friends, bantered about sun burn in a very familiar post uni Home Counties English. I immediately thought of Louise retiring to bed early while I stayed up drinking tequila shots with the lads.
Two older couples sat too close together not to be friends. They would be no fun I concluded with my most damning first impression.
Two young American girls with, I have to say a pair of the most irritatingly high pitched voices, exchanged a despairing glance as they saw the assembled party. I had heard from friends that if an American accent is ear bleedingly bad it's probably a Chicago accent, again I labelled wildly.
I felt dismayed , reassured, disappointed, excited, alive and fully engaged simultaneously.
They, of course, saw an extremely interesting slightly older British couple with travelling stories of daring do from around the globe. I knew this immediately. I was glad they were all reassured by our presence.
Would my first impressions turn out to be true? Of course not, but it was interesting how quickly I did judge. I am so glad that the next four days and five nights proved me correct in some very positive respects and wildly incorrect in many others.
In brief we had quite literally the time of our lives.
Melanie, the Dutch lady, turned out to be travelling with her delightful partner and his best mate, the supposed world traveller shaggers. Only partially correct in truth. Bright, funny and interesting conversationalists with an incredible capacity for San Miguel and lively friendly all inclusive ability to bring a group together . Best friends for life.
The two English lads, who we should have been able to read like a book, did turn out to be mates. But from there on assumptions were wrong. Firstly they were probably ten years older than I had initially guessed. One now enjoying life resident in Manila. The other a Hoxton based IT salesman. James and Tom. I never stayed up downing Tequila shots till the early hours with them. But that's not because they wouldn't have, or didn't! It's that I am such a bad judge of myself. I didn't even for a moment contemplate that I might actually get so tired sailing, swimming, snorkelling, that for the entire trip staying up past ten pm became a near impossibility! I will certainly buy them beers or tequila when I track them down in the Howl at the Moon in Hoxton. Watch out!
The beautiful German couple were in fact Swiss. Not a footballer and a model. But two lovely and rather earnest maths teachers from Zurich.
One of the 'American' girls with the screeching voice was Mexican and lives in Walthamstow.
The two older couples deserve a special mention in dispatches. An American couple in their late seventies. How bloody amazing do you have to be to take this trip on at that age. We are in awe. We met them again in Coron and again sat chatting for too long. You are only too old if you think you are.
And the 'say it as you see it' Aussie couple also engaged us with their super successful gem stone travel and business stories. No filter, no politically correct approach, just good old white Aussie man talk. They eventually started believing that there are some decent Poms in the world. And now, by the way, they still owe this Pom several beers. I will collect.
We were not eaten alive. The local 'lost boys' who crewed our boat were so incredibly sweet. Sadly for them their dental health was poor which would have made it very difficult for them to eat a whole traveller. Besides their diet is mainly Filipino Power, or boiled rice as we know it.
Sleep was the biggest revelation. The amazing effect of fresh sea air. The sleep inducing white noise of the waves. The beach front aircon, courtesy of the fabulously salty sea breeze. The absence of any digital white screen time. The exhaustion of a day spent snorkelling over the most beautiful reefs. The absolute absence of anything to worry about organising for tomorrow. Combined together to genuinely give the best few nights sleep either of us can remember.
Some of us did get sea sick. There were twenty foot waves on day one, but by the end we were sailing a mill pond. Scurvy no, the local limes in our nightly Jungle Juice (Rum and pineapple) saw to that. The Tao trots, well that appears to just have been me. The local probiotic sorted me out in a day.
Oh my lord the food. Fresh line caught tuna. Freshly cooked vegetables. Grilled sea food. Veggie options. Fabulous fruits. And, of course, unlimited Filipino Power. Worth every penny.
I am aware that dissecting people for humour is a very cheap sport. I shall not do that any more. When we finally arrived at our destination in Coron, we immediately signed up to a private trip with many of the same group. Then carried on celebrating late into the night. Love them. Enough said.
We even ended up discussing the unfortunate effect of gravity on the aging scrotum. We swapped emails, promised reciprical travel to The Hague, The Gold Coast, Cape Cod, Amsterdam and more achievably, Hoxton. Travelling friends, as very much opposed to holiday buddies. The travelling spirit is very much alive and well and reassuringly accessible to anyone of any age prepared to risk it. It occurred to me that travelling is not so much about the destination as about the people you are travelling with.
Did I forget to mention the tour? It was good.
….pulling together some themes, I’m thinking scrotoplasty sounds a bit medical. I’m just registering drybag.com x
Right, I’m caught up and now nauseatingly jealous. The boat trip sounds like The Rickshaw Run. Likeminded souls where age is irrelevant.
Also a key learning that social ineptitude is borne of good looks. I knew it.
Take care. X