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Revive your survival instincts through immersive wilderness experiences.


  • Writer's pictureEliza Brown

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A stop over flight in Barcelona and a baggage transfer issue we were London Bound.

As the plane started to leave the hard I looked out the window only to see our two bags parked on their own on the back of a trailer. The plane was already in motion but we scouted down the stewardess and pointed out that our bags had not made onto to the plane. The plane was stopped. We watched nervously as our bags were moved out of view. I heard the clunk of the loading truck being fixed to the side of the plane. Five minutes later we were reassured that our bags were now on the same flight as us. Few. That could have ruined the weekend.

It had been five months until I last saw my Mum, Sister and all the furry creatures at home. My fluffy hat was at the ready along with my thick coat but, no boots - only Birkenstocks. We stepped off the plane, and were immediately hit by the cold sharp air...hello England. Reunited with our bags, we followed the signs to the station and hopped on the first train to London Victoria. Back to reality.

We must have stuck out like a saw thumb. Giant waterproof bags, birenstocks on feet, musto sailing kit, windswept tan. Yachties. In London.

The short sharp burst in London was enough. We refuelled on the classic hoisin duck wraps from Pret sitting in Trafalger square, watching the usual London chaos. The day was spent walking through St James Park feeding squirrels, wandered along The Embankment, getting lost in book shops and sitting admiring the lights in Covent Garden listening to the local Choir. That evening we demolished a feast at the local curry house in Tooting with family then snuck to 'The Little Bar' for a cocktail.

Nine forty the following morning we were on the train from Euston - heading to the sticks of Shropshire - homeward bound. The city landscape gradually disappeared from view and evolved into the frost covered countryside. We changed from a twelve carriage train to a two carriage train; the reality of returning home kicked in.

First things first...I cuddled every creature. Dogs, cats, horses, ferrets and of course the family. It was so good to be home.

I took my ex-eventer for a good blast around the bridleways - mum has been keeping him fit over the winter season - it was a fantastic ride. The weekend was spent horse riding, shooting, dog walking and getting cosy next to the open fire. We even managed to squeeze in Christmas on the weekend of bonfire night. I walked down stairs to discover fairy lights, glitter, crackers and presents. Home shot duck, plucked, dressed and roasted. We danced with the dogs whilst we waited for Dad to whip up the gravy. It was a candle lit feast.

Reluctant to leave we drove to Liverpool John Lennon early the following morning to catch our direct flight back to Palma. Returning to the boat to finish stocking it up for the Atlantic crossing, back to the Caribbean, with one week until departure.

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