The moon’s a red balloon

As with all these mad cap ideas, when the alarm went off just three hours after going to bed I questioned my sanity. Experience tells me however that once over the initial shock of getting up in the middle of the night these crazy ideas are always worth it.

The combination of a ‘super moon’ and a total eclipse of the same, coupled with a forecast for a completely cloud free sky meant that it was just one of those things that we felt we shouldn’t miss. We wrapped up in unfamiliar winter clothing and crept out of the house, conscious that our neighbours are generally sane and would, most likely, be fast asleep in bed. It already felt like a mini adventure.

The moon was startlingly bright and it was immediately evident that we had only just got up in time. The shadow of the earth had already taken a small bite out of the brilliant white sphere, the show had already started. Surrounded as we were by street lights it wasn’t the best environment to appreciate a night time eclipse so our plan was to walk out of the village onto unlit lanes to get the full impact of the spectacle. As we walked along what I have always thought of as a relatively straight road the moon swung through nearly ninety degrees revealing the true change of direction we were taking. It made me think of the early navigators, traversing seas and deserts simply by observation of the planets. Travelling with hope and courage rather than GPS and backup mobile phone.

Orion was looking down on us, his sword and belt easy to identify but the still bright moon made the fainter stars of his bow harder to pick out. Similarly we could just make out Cassiopeia and The Plough. With ninety percent of the moon still beaming down our shadows on the road were sharp and distinct, the light easily sufficient to read by. The progress of the shadow was slow and we became aware of other elements of the night. The call of birds on the nearby creek, geese from the sound of them, and the smell of the damp earth as we took to a dirt track to get further from the light pollution. If we stood still it was possible to make out the occasional rustle of a creature in the hedgerow, perhaps a hedgehog or a rabbit.  As the moon’s light was slowly stolen by the shadow of the earth so the stars became brighter and easier to distinguish. Just a trace of the milky way could be seen and Venus, low on the horizon shone brightly, a real star shaped star, as if drawn from a child’s imagination.

The final brilliant ellipse was extinguished leaving us in a new kind of shadowless darkness. The moon was now a strange red circle framed by a brighter rim and we were mesmerised as we stood and stared until the pain in our necks grew too much to bear. Naively we imagined that the shadow would clear and the moon would reappear as quickly as it had been obscured but it didn’t. We had no idea that it would remain in it’s current state for an hour or more.

My pictures were nothing like this

My pictures were nothing like this

We waited and waited but reluctantly we gave in and began to wander back towards home, constantly checking over our shoulders for a sign of change but it never came. It was as if the show had been put on pause and we didn’t have the remote control to do anything about it.

We were cold by the time we got home and astonished to find that we had been wandering the darkening lanes for two hours. That’s longer than your average feature film and as it turned out a lot more entertaining than many. We took about twenty photographs of this rare phenomenon, every one of them was rubbish. But that’s OK. The photographs would probably have ended up languishing in some forgotten folder on Google Drive never to be seen again. Whereas the memories, the experience, they will last forever and what’s more they are high definition works of art. But you will have to take my word for that of course.

Wishing for the moon.

I have just read an article by micro adventure advocate Alastair Humphreys. As usual, it got me thinking.

Reflection on a long wiggly line

Reflection on a long wiggly line twelve months on

It is one year today since we got home from our long cycle tour around the coast of Britain. The anniversary brings with it a lot of reflection on what the trip meant to us and how it changed us. These challenging thoughts are accompanied by big decisions as we get closer to the time when we are in a position to stop working should we choose to. Right now, my thoughts are like a collection of washing tumbling backwards and forwards in a drier. Complex, tangled and not yet ready to be folded and stacked into neat organised piles.

In one sense we certainly got what we wanted from our break. It shook us up and gave us the thrust we needed to break away from whatever shackles every day life had tied us down with. We hoped that it would lead us in new directions and in some ways it has. We just aren’t too clear on which direction yet. Having a taste of adventure leaves you hungry for more, whatever form it might take.

We have made a decision recently that both excites me and worries me at the same time. We have been talking about the idea of living on a narrow boat and having weighed all the pros and cons we have come to the conclusion that it might be better to wait until we are in a position where we can do it without having to work. That’s fine except that it is probably at least five years away and that is where I am struggling. You see before we went away, and to some extent the reason we went away, was because we were really starting to understand the importance of living in the present. Making a five year plan feels like the very antithesis of ‘carpe diem’, or ‘seize the day’. In that sense our current idea seems like an abandonment of everything the trip taught us.

The plan I am talking about is to buy a cheap park home by cashing in some savings and to live rent free whilst clearing a mortgage on a house we own. That house produces a rental income and is part of the retirement plan. At about the same time that the mortgage is cleared a small private pension matures and we could then sell the park home, buy a narrow boat and sail off into the sunset free from the burden of earning a living. It sounds great when written down like that but for the small matter of wishing away those five years. So there lies our challenge. How do you maintain two focuses, one on today and the other years in the future, the second of which we have no guarantee of even reaching.

It doesn’t help that I happened to talk to a couple on a boat last week who live on board and manage to hold down part time jobs. Conversations like that fill me with doubt over whether we are doing the right thing. Maybe we should just throw caution to the wind and go for the narrow boat option now rather than wait. Who knows, we might not even like life on board. We might be waiting for five years only to find that actually, it wasn’t worth waiting for. I doubt that somehow though.

The challenge now is to seize the day, every day, just in case that distant dream, for whatever reason proves to be beyond our grasp. It’s a tricky one and it’s a good reason to set the alarm for 2am tomorrow and to get up and look at a giant red, eclipsed super moon because there wont be another one until 2033. By then, if we survive, we will know if we did the right thing waiting five years to do the right thing.

Moon

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