Finally after more time than I care to remember I am going to shake the dust of this country from my boots and cover them in the dust of another country. In a few days time all things being equal I shall mount a metal steed and thunder over oceans towards a distant customs post. Sadly that customs post will be in America.
"Ah, Neil is going to America," you say.
Wrong, Neil is going to Morocco via Britain. Unfortunately the plane I have entrusted this journey pauses in San Francisco. Which is sufficient excuse for the American government to hit me up for a little cash and subject me to its border control procedures. Assuming I survive I will get on another plane aimed at London where the UK equivalent of Homeland Security will hopefully let me in.
London seems like an odd place to start a holiday in Morocco but its nowhere near as odd as trying to start it in Sydney. After a couple of days of jetlag recovery I mount the pride of Portugal who have contracted to deliver me to Casablanca (via Lisbon) in time to meet my tour of the ancient, history steeped land of Morocco. I know nothing about the ancient, history steeped land of Morocco but hopefully the gaps in my knowledge will be filled by the time I leave. Then Portuguese pilots will whisk me back to London from where I will mount another plane to take me to Gibraltar.
Given Gibraltar's geographic location you might think it would be simpler to just fly straight from Morocco to Gibraltar. You would be wrong. You can't fly straight from Morocco to Gibraltar without going through London first. There used to be a ferry but it got cancelled during covid and apparently hasn't started up again yet. It would actually be quicker to swim from Morocco to Gibraltar than fly but that would require a level of either fitness or desperation that I am unable to produce so a London stop off is required. Having soaked up everything that Gibraltar can offer I fly back to London to catch a train to Penzance.
"Ah, Neil is going to Cornwall," you say.
Wrong, Neil is going to the Scilly Isles (which technically are part of Cornwall so congratulations, what do you want, a medal or a chest to pin it on?). The Scilly Isles are off the coast of Cornwall (and each other) and some relaxing time will be had in what is supposed to be quite a quiet and charming patch of the world. Penzance is just where the helicopter to the Scilly Isles leaves from. On the way back to London I'm stopping off in Dartmoor because, well you do don't you.
If by this stage you are suspecting that I select my travel destinations largely at random you wouldn't be entirely wrong. In fact you would be entirely right. Which is why I have managed to visit Zanzibar, St Pierre, Luxembourg and Newfoundland along with somewhat better known geographic locations. I'm still annoyed at missing out on Liechtenstein.
The real reason for the Morocco trip is because I had bold plans for a significant West African holiday (Gabon has a railway I would like to ride on) but after my health issues last year I decided to ease myself back into the foreign travel game with destinations that aren't guaranteed to kill you on the spot. If things go well (ie I don't collapse physically) I may try something a little more strenuous next time. Or possibly I'll go to Liechtenstein. I don't entirely know why Gibraltar or the Scilly Isles, they were just semi convenient to Morocco or rather they were semi convenient to London which is semi convenient to Morocco. Besides I've always had a fondness for small remote jurisdictions. I have this tendency to travel to places that most people only register their company for tax (and in the case of Gibraltar money laundering) purposes. Hanging out at the rock after a semi strenuous few weeks in Morocco will be just the recharge I need to face the grueling challenge of the Scilly Isles.
Principally the grueling challenge of the Scilly Isles was getting there. There is a ferry which refused to take my booking. There are flights which contrived to be fully booked on the days I wanted to travel. Finally in exchange for my handing over sufficient money to keep a small country afloat a helicopter pilot agreed to at least get me within shouting distance of the place. After the effort of getting there came the equally grueling challenge of finding somewhere to stay. I'm staying a week and will be using three different hotels. I don't know if I will enjoy the holiday but my luggage is going to have a hell of a time. I'm hoping to sleep on the train from London to Penzance.
Finally back in London I get to relax (sleep) for a couple more days before flying back home supposedly rested and refreshed. I'll settle for alive.
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