I am standing tall, gripping my in-law’s dog Paddy on a tight leash, at the official gateway to the Sussex Downs, halfway up Mill Hill. It is a crisp winter morning, ice blue skies as far as the eye can see, save random shreds of cotton wool clouds. As I exhale a frozen breath of air, I can feel the chill of expectation, of a day filled with promise, potential, and prospects.
Opening the wooden gate, unhooking Paddy from his lead, I watch him disappear into a thicket, leaving him to chase rabbits and squirrels for sport. And turning to face the Mill Hill carpark, which sits alongside the open grassland, I watch a colossal sized camper van pull up into a concrete space.
The Mill Hill car park has long been a transitional traveller spot, with the occasional rogue caravan or camper van pulling up for the odd overnight stay. Today, I notice there are four campers lined up, next to a battered old caravan that’s been there for aeons.
The guy who lives there bears a passing likeness to the trailer park killer in ‘Silence of the Lambs’ – and minces menacingly about the carpark in a tiny, dirty, pink tea-stained dressing gown and matching slippers. No sign today though, not on this day of days.
Today, the thought and allure of the spirit of adventure is floating the moored-up boat of my mind. I am feeling the call of the open road, thinking about global exploration, when I gaze upon the branding of the colossal sized camper van. The van is called ‘Kon Tiki,’ and this registers somewhere deep inside my game soul, triggering a tidal wave of memories, as I begin a speedy ascent up Mill Hill.
The first time I heard of the Kon Tiki, it was from a teacher of one of the four class houses at my comprehensive middle school. The Heyerdahl house – full of sporting jocks and overachievers who won everything – so named after the famous Norwegian adventurer Thor Heyerdahl. Heyerdahl built and sailed a raft, the Kon Tiki, four-thousand miles across the Pacific Ocean shortly after the end of World War II.
Heyerdahl’s raft was constructed from Peruvian wood, cast together employing traditional techniques used by Polynesian ancestors. For a hundred-and-one days the Kon Tiki relied on advantageous trade winds, fresh fish landing miraculously on the raft, and the ropes binding the wooden logs for endurance, as the make-shift boat took to sea off the coast of Peru.
Heyerdahl’s quest was blessed by the God’s of Faith, Endeavour, and Good Fortune. Heyerdahl spoke of a ‘three sister wave’ in his explorers journal. This occurred in the dead of night, a giant freak wave, followed by two enormous ‘sister waves,’ which came close to sinking the raft and all on board. The five strong crew emerged unscathed, and the sea returned to calm.
As I reach the rolling green summit of Mill Hill, followed by man’s best friend, I take time to study the timeless flow of the River Adur, and trace its meandering path into the mouth of the ocean. I make a firm resolution, to launch my own raft today. I will take basic provisions, follow the sea currents, guided solely by the trade winds. Away from the navigational charts. And explore life’s earthly wonders and riches in the spirit of the crew of the Kon Tiki.
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