I’m going to die, I thought sadly. The sadness actually surprised me more than the thought itself. I wasn’t panicking, I wasn’t stressed. I wasn’t kicking and screaming with every ounce of energy I had to prevent my untimely death. I’d simply accepted that I was going to die.

It was a Sunday, and I was almost twelve. It started, like many weekend adventures do, with a phone call. “Mrs. Walsh, can Billy come out to play?” On the other line would be my best friend Ronnie – my chum of chums, and the ringleader of our little troupe of troublemakers …

Caz Makepeace confesses a moment of sheer terror. “My 2 girlfriends and I wanted to tour Samosir Island, Sumatra on motorbikes. Not knowing how to drive them, we hired 3 local drivers, who we soon figured out must have been tripping on the magic mushrooms the area is famous for …”

Learning to deal with nightmare scenarios in the Wilderness First Responder course. >> I’m a talented worrier (though I like to call myself a ‘realist’) which means that offshore sailing not only inspires tropical fantasies, but also conjures up fears of worst-case scenarios: a back-breaking tumble, a jibing boom to the skull, a misbehaving organ, […]

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