On a Mission
Yesterday, I was on a mission.
Good things can come from going to travel shows. At the recent Daily Telegraph Travel & Adventure Show in Kensington, I hung out at the desk of a company that organises tours to some of the most spectacular whalewatching destinations on the planet. Of course I could not afford to go on one of the trips, but I spent some time talking to the woman running the stall. Soon I brought up East Sri Lanka—not so long ago one of the most promising destinations and now devastated by the tsunami. Whalewatch tourism would be an enormous boost to the affected communities, not to mention provide vital support to cash-stripped researchers. I launched into a mini-lecture while the woman listened slightly startled but with growing enthusiasm, then she pushed a pen and paper across the desk. I scribbled some notes and a few days later an email from the company’s founder landed in my inbox; inviting me to a meeting in Brighton.
As it was a Wednesday, I caught a lift with John on his way to the Reading office. There are few direct trains from Reading and I briefly considered taking one which would get me to my destination an hour early, but then chided myself for being such a paranoid chronophobe. Surely the timetable could be trusted? Bad move.
The 10:45 train was just sufficiently delayed to cancel out the interval allowed for changing at Winchester. I kept my cool as there was still time and no queue at the information desk. The two blokes manning it had a thankless enough job without all the rap they get from people like me. They were helpful and soon scribbled down alternative connections, but I was not likely to catch the 10:32 to Hayward Heath which was due to leave in just over one minute’s time, so I would be irrevocably late. They suggested the 11:12. I asked them to spell the destination—struggling with British train connections is a great way to learn about the local geography. Then, just as I was about to thank them, a thought struck me:
“You wouldn’t know whether that train is delayed as well, would you?”
“No love, it’s not up on the board yet.”
“Oh OK, thanks. I shouldn’t think that two trains would be late.”
One of the men looked up in alarm, then picked up a receiver: “Hold on, let me just call…”
The estimated delay was 35 minutes. We had to rethink.
Eventually I reached my destination via Gatwick Airport. Although I had phoned ahead, the delay niggled because S, a tall, tanned, toned ex-Navy diver and sailor, had cleared his busy schedule to accommodate me despite leaving for a three months’ trip to the Sea of Cortez (or ‘Sea of Dreams’ as he calls it) on Monday. I was glad that he found the time—and it appeared that he was too. We talked over sausages and a large pot of tea in the kitchen of the flat from where he runs his company. His tours are booked up until 2006 and he attended the Daily Telegraph show with “No holidays to sell! —But”, he continued with a smile: “something good has come out of it, after all!”. Sri Lanka had been on his mind. A friend of his is involved with the relief effort, but even before the tsunami he had been mulling over a project that would allow him to “give something back”.
We talked for an hour. I was glad that my little train odyssey had given me enough time to go through my notes and compile a list of names. He scanned the list: “Wow, Rear Admirals and all!”
“Er, yeah, it’ll take a bit of negotiation…”
I made sure to mention the cash-strapped local researchers and the enthusiasm of the people renovating their guesthouses in Nilaveli after peace finally came—people who now have to start all over again—but I did not need to lay it on too thick, S and I were on the same wavelength. I handed over my print-outs and Dr. A’s book so they would be there on his return to prompt his memory. And he promised to email a scientist friend that very afternoon, JG—it’s a small world!
“I wasn’t sure whether we would talk for one hour or five”, he smiled as we finished, “But it’s all here in a nutshell!”
It will take time, but maybe something will come of this. S told me I’ll be the first to know. He even indicated that he’ll invite me along (“In 2-3 years time, we could be sailing around Sri Lanka!”) but I do not expect any personal gain from it, and that feels good. Of course, I wouldn’t say no…
So, at long last, my mission is accomplished. I can’t do anything more. I was just a backpacker knocking on doors—or should that be a facilitator?— while S’s company, though small, has a worldwide reputation. As he puts it, he knows how to organise trips and what he can charge; an expertise not always found locally. Plus he has contacts to scientists with experience in the area.
But this is not the only reason why S is the right guy to do this. He also runs the right kind of tour. It’s all about the whales, with small groups of passionate guests who are not servants-cum-cashcows to some self-important scientist. It’s about whalewatching and the kind of people who go on these holidays are in many ways as knowledgeable as birdwatchers are in their field. Birdwatching clubs organise trips to some of the world’s most remote locations and return with valuable sighting reports and no scientist would dare to take liberties with these people. This is because they are ‘professional amateurs’ who make a genuine contribution apart from the financial; in many ways they are to ecotourists what travellers are to package tourists. Of course, in Sri Lanka the research element will be important, but then this is about giving something back. All the same, the scientists won’t be running the show to the exclusion of the whalewatchers. And having small groups of discerning whalewatchers saves the scientists in turn from having to ‘perform’ in front of a crowd on a tour boat. Instead, they can concentrate on collecting data. There would be a genuine synergy between the community where the trips are based, the scientists involved and the visitors—everyone will benefit. Even the whales. That is my dream.
Tags: The Whales of Trincomalee, Tag Index
Denni