I Was a 7 Year Old leave Artist

Yes, I escaped from parental holidays on Ramsgate beach in England with sand-filled cheese sarnies and goose bumps, to cub camps of beautiful wet tents in sodden campgrounds - heaven!

Progress was slow in the cubs but the sea-scouts beckoned with promises of boating on the Thames and escaping to the Swiss mountains, driving through France and Belgium in a 1936 lorry and exercises with the Royal Navy on coastal minesweepers until ultimately I could leave on my own two wheeler with an engine, for other foray colse to Europe only to return broke except for a carton of 200 Senior service of which a pack was immediately bartered for a gallon of petrol at Dover, just to get home!

Swiss Twins

And then, rent flights appeared on the scene and a trip to the Costa Brava in a Super-Connie was not to be missed as a first speculation into the air with four propellers as I could not yet afford a 4 wheeled machine with an engine.

Four wheels in the shape of a 1954 Ford Prefect came next but with mates with better wheels I again drove south to the Costas in Spain and came close to working a beach bar but that appeared to be captivity - not escapism.

Captivity happened, in the form of articles to a firm of Chartered Accountants for 5 years with only short holidays and weekends to administrate my need to leave but after the articles ended, a period of adventure appeared, only to be throttled by job commitments and employers who did not appreciate the extra week tagged on to the allowable holiday allotment, but jobs were easy in those days and so I moved on a few times.

Escape To America beckoned to a wannabe cowboy and country and western fan so plans were made to emigrate to Canada. Escaping from England at the historic Tilbury Docks on the less than historic Polish Ocean Lines Stephan Batory to Montreal was an 8 day experience of escapism. Overcoming jet-lag in Montreal took a while but renting a giant of a car (Ford Galaxy) and driving to Dundas to stay with an old mate helped the trauma fade.

Ok, so I have escaped but what next? Build an ark out of a 1964 Ford Econoline and set up some sleeping quarters for a trip across Ontario and The Prairies to the Rockies. Being a confined Brit for some years shielded me from some weather concerns of altitude, mountains and climatic characteristic and who needed insulation in a van anyway and who the hell needs a sleeping bag made for icy temperatures? I did, but as I am writing this, I guess I did not damage too many cells. Escapism is looking and feeling good.

Luck had been with me in that I met up with a great bloke at the Benbow Western Museum in Calgary who was a country singer/songwriter and pilot. The name, Cal Cavendish all the time brings back happy memories of that visit and other occasions that we managed to meet over the ensuing years.

The charm of being an leave Artist was showing itself in the people one meets on the road and the ones who stay colse to for a while.

Finally reaching the west coast with adequate cash for only a month or two led to the escapism being moth-balled and a job found until adequate funds enabled the visit to Nashville, Dodge City and The Alamo.

As long as escapism is your goal and you do not set deadlines that cannot be met then take your time and enjoy captivity as much as you can, I did, as the west coast of British Columbia offered unlimited leave possible to lakes full of trout (that was then) mountain trails and wilderness, but the real wilderness is additional north in the Yukon, Northwest Territories and Alaska, all beckoned and were covered in due procedure from canoeing the Nahanni, crossing the Chilcoot Pass and hiking in Denali. Skiing, hiking, vanning and then south to Nashville via some historical western towns and the books of Louis Lamour before looking other consulting assignment before the next escape.

The short time I spent in Calgary with Cal Cavendish convinced me that I should learn to fly and add to the 8 hours I had put in at Biggin Hill (of Ww2 fame) and get colse to in the air. Weekend escapes now meant the airport and burning holes in the sky and then cross-country trips with the Pitt Tail Draggers flying club. Some of my many escapes so far, with like-minded people who just wanted to leave into the blue and wing over some mountains and valleys to land on a small airstrip somewhere to simply sleep under the wing. A cross-country air-dash (The almost Great Canadian Air Dash of 1980) found me in a 1946 Fleet Canuck with 25 other old airplanes heading from Delta Air Park near Vancouver to Prince Edward Island and on landing at Geraldton being offered a bush flying job from an old flying mate, but at slave wages. A great memory of the return flight over the northern states was when our ragwing plane was parked outside awaiting a heavy thunder storm. The Fbo saw our predicament and moved a twin Beech out of the hangar and we pushed our dinky plane inside....what a guy!

In between flying, skiing, hiking and touring Canada and the Usa the view of Australia and New Zealand came along with stories of great Kiwi fly fishing and the vastness and remoteness of the Outback of Oz.

It's a funny thing but I still remember the airline ticket price (,700cad) for a return allowing Australia, New Zealand and Fiji (and that was 1977)...it's far economy now but there is no longer any fun left in market airline flying.

The vastness of Oz and the lack of people away from Sydney makes it easy for leave Artists and even dinky old New Zealand with far more sheep than is cheap offers great remote areas with rivers running with feisty trout. Since 1977 I have been back many times and even owned a house in Kiwiland on a trout river. Even though the aussie beer is far too cold I shall be returning many more times to cover a few more miles of dirt in the Outback and head over the Tasman to introduce a nice dry fly to a hungry brownie.

The early 1980's led to boredom with Canada, so Europe beckoned for some company opportunities and lifestyle choices between the South of France and London but not before a Safari in South Africa, a beautiful drive from the Cape through the Karoo and orchad Route with even a Blue Train ride. Life continued apace with magnificent drives in France, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, Belgium, England, Scotland and Scandinavia and contentment was setting in, but a whingeing and bleating call from Canada with regard to a company question and chance put paid to my European escapism forcing an unwanted return to cope the company that supported my leave artist lifestyle, but not before I was able to take my Dad to Egypt for a day on the Concorde, memorable!

And then, after sorting the company out, that bloody madman (Sadaam/Kuwait) hit the buttons and changed the procedure of my company ventures forcing more permanent but intermittant stays, although with my leave artist skills the chargeable time was taken out of harms way by counting chargeable days in-country.

One must make do though, plan B or even Y but never Z! As I was unable to get too far away from the problems I had to leave in other ways. Back to the bush, the mountains and the backroads of Bc, the North Canol Road in the Yukon, Nwt and to Prudhoe Bay in Alaska and then down the Baja in Mexico. In canoes, floatplanes, rafts, hiking boots, skis and even a feeble exertion to learn to fly helicopters (I shall return to this challenge) and of procedure quarterly trips to the South Pacific stopping over in Tahiti, Fiji, Cook Islands, a secret yacht rent in the Whitsunday Islands and a dinky windjamming in the Caribbean.

A mad two months in 2001 was spent driving a 1973 Mercedes and a 1956 Austin A90 from Rio de Janeiro across to Lima, down to Tierra del Fuego and up again to Rio participating in a 15,000 mile classic car rally (try it at hero.co.uk). This adventure surely makes me want to go back to South America, but to take it a dinky slower, to fish a few rivers, hike a few high trails and just take in the splendor.

Imo it is prominent for Ea's to have convenient getaway cars so over the years I have ready my escapes in some nice wheels, such as a Jensen Healey and Interceptor, Triumph Tr8 down the Pacific Coast Highway and colse to France, Spain, Portugal and England, a Ferrari 348 Spider from Modena in Italy through France and England, parked on the Qe2 to New York, down to Kentucky and across to Sante Fe and all points north and of course, for a Brit, a whole of Jags.

I have since rediscovered the charm of England with the Moors and Dales, the Welsh Mountains (high hills anyway!) and the pleasures of looking some real traditional pubs with great cask ales and I know I need more and more of this type of escapism.

Escape Artistry has consisted of setting up offshore clubs and bank accounts and having dual citizenship to leave the robbery and incompetence of the tax collectors in our governments and of procedure to improve the living standards of residents of these offshore locales.

As an Ea who escaped early rather than wait to be financially collect and then 'do a runner' I have managed to enjoy the ups and downs of accounting, auditing, consulting, company management, entrepreneurship (including an exertion to develop an over-unity generator!) and now - the Internet. Good and bad employees and partners have been and gone, some ventures have worked well and others, oh well! I am most fortunate that I have all the time had good health, because without it, it's tough going but just like the bunny I intend to carry on going and going and going. I never forget that I am one of the fortunate generation in that I have never had to go to war and lose high-priced years as did my Father and Uncle. I did try and join the Royal Air Force but because of poor eyesight I could not find the recruiting office and as I suffer from mal de mer the Royal Navy would not have me and the Army would not let me start as a General.

Travel is still the key to my escapism and everywhere I have been still beckons me to return but I still have a few places that I need to visit such as Newfoundland and Labrador, Greece and Christmas Island for the bonefish.

To keep my leave plans active, instead of having them tattooed on my body I have had them created on the internet by means of a new company that allows travellers like myself to get fairer fare prices direct from voyage operators or scholar voyage agents. This scheme is keeping me busy and affords a challenge to the ways to still be a 'business leave artist.' operate an internet company from your laptop everywhere in the world. I can't tell you where my laptop is now but it is working for TopTravelSites.com from somewhere, someplace, somehow at anytime of the day or night.

So, being a nomad with a laptop and good wi fi is a great way to live the Ea lifestyle either in the Usa, Uk, Europe or Australia, New Zealand, some exotic South Pacific Island or wherever you select as your escape.

Adieu, Adios, Aurevoir and Cheers. Why not give it a go like this nomadic Fca (Chartered Accountant), Pt (Permanent Traveller), Ea (Escape Artist) and W.W.W. (toptravelsites.com). Isn't it nice to have letters after your name?

I Was a 7 Year Old leave Artist

Thanks To : American whopper balls