After a dash north from the fringes of Morocco in March, we finally arrived on UK soil, heading for a period of rest and quarantine – or so we thought.

After our race against what felt like time and tide, the idea of being stationary for two weeks was a blissful concept. Yet landing back in UK was a double-edged sword. Whilst it was good to be back on home turf during uncertain times, we had to sail past my bestie, because we were in quarantine. There was no reassuring hug with my mum, there was no care-free relaxing with peace by our sides. Ambiguity was our only friend, an unwanted companion that hung in the air like a city smog, making its presence felt as it swirled between the trees of our New Forest Sanctuary.

It was an odd twist of fate, that I chose Setthorns Campsite as our quarantine retreat. It held so many hallmarks from my childhood. A campsite deep in the forest that brought me close to my family even though they were not there. With my dad in the heavens above and my mum way beyond arms reach, I was left with the memories of my youthful games amongst the trees. I have a sneaky feeling that we even parked up across from one of the pitches we used to stay on, during our weekends away.  It felt nurturing to be in a place where I had happily played as a child, and to feel close to my mum and dad. My inner child craved to be nurtured and embraced, yet she had all grown up and needed to find her own way in this crazy, new world.

The animals offered us some familiar comfort; we were surrounded by deer, squirrels, nuthatches and wild ponies. Each one seemingly oblivious to our plight and yet bizarrely soothing in the simplicity of their tamed presence. How odd to see nature’s heart beating to the exact same rhythm, whilst ours had gone off-the-wall. Someone was laughing on the other side of somewhere, at this strange situation, not of our making. 

See our gallery of Mother Nature’s canvas by clicking below;

As we surrendered to our quarantine and immersed ourselves into the peace of the forest, a lurking air of suspicion wafted around our bodies. A sensation that whispered, “You must not yet rest on your laurels”. We knew intuitively that the art we had mysteriously mastered of being one step ahead, was needed once more. And after a deeply connecting conversation about how a Covid future might look, we knew that our stillness needed a gentle prod. We needed to stir our resting souls and again thrust ourselves into action, as that tsunami was nipping at our heels reminding us of its presence.

It felt as if something big was going to happen soon in UK, having seen our European cousins all take evasive action against the demon of death. And so for us, there were no real surprises about the Government’s course – it was all a matter of timing. We had second guessed their policy and we were, once again, just about ahead of the game, albeit by a whisker.

Pubs, clubs and restaurants closed on that Friday night and we knew in our hearts that we must look for somewhere more long-term to stay. We have always considered ourselves houseless not homeless, although with a situation as grave as this, with the threat of campsites potentially closing, we knew we needed something more permanent to keep us safe.

Given my mum’s precarious balance on this Covid tightrope, we had to find somewhere close to her so we could support her. So we secured a near-by campsite that would shelter us, even given the worst case scenario. We had a fall-back of a house we were selling that was empty, although this was 30 miles away from mum and with no car – we contemplated the enormity of the situation. We had, we reckoned a few days to perhaps buy a car and reach our sanctuary position before the doors shut completely. And then, Sunday morning the dreaded news came. Campsites across the country became the latest victim to fall to the devil’s imposing stench.

Whilst not wanting to sound dramatic, there was a dawning – for me at least, that suddenly our security was at peril. Whilst the campsite had offered us a place to be safe, our ‘what if questions’ filled our heads. We knew in our hearts, however kind their offer to stay was, if they were inspected and we had to be evicted, we had no alternative. The tsunami was closer than ever to our wheels and our primal need for safety and security drove us into a battle strategy action to protect ourselves, first and foremost. We were reminded of the safety demonstration on board a plane, where you are instructed, in an emergency, to place your own oxygen mask before helping others. This was what we now needed to do.

In my corporate leadership training days, I often used the analogy of ‘thinking outside the box’. How apt was that advice right now? And despite the potential of this situation I am always amazed at just how resilient our primal being is. It kicks in without being asked; it just takes over and moves you into that sympathetic nervous system of fight, flight or freeze. My thoughts were as crystal clear as a highly polished diamond, my problem-solving as sharp as a sabre blade. With the precision of a chemist’s measure, my mind considered all the possibilities for us to stay safe and be close to mum; and within five minutes a solution emerged, thanks to the brilliance of one of our followers. A mere ten minutes later, we had the prospect of a rental property that had, in the last four days become empty. We spoke to the lovely landlords, explored options, agreed terms and secured a three month tenancy with a rolling month thereafter. Boom! I just love how the strands of synchronicity weave their web and conspire to create your destined next steps.

The very next morning, we launched into Phase 2, as despite having a place to go, we still had some critical actions to tick off our list and with precious little time to do it. It felt as if we were in a Hollywood movie, where impending doom was shadowing the earth and everyone was scattering like ants. Although paradoxically, we also felt as if we were one step ahead of the game, given our European escape. We had seen first-hand how quickly the world could change and, in many ways, we could see those around us almost oblivious to what we knew instinctively was coming soon! Real soon.

So with focus in our eyes and determination in our hearts we headed north; our lockup was our first call. A need to pick up some furniture as we had none in our new four walls. Reacquainted with our familiar yellow door, we retrieved a few bits that would give us some creature comforts. The beauty of our travel experiences over the last four years, is that we don’t need much – our surrender to simplicity was certainly going to pay dividends in this war against an unknown enemy. Doing a last supermarket shop was like walking through a set for an Apocalypse film as empty shelves and and just a handful of  desperate shoppers, took whatever they could to feed their families. It was a surreal experience. I’ve never seen a store so eerily devoid of people or food. Still, we managed to get what we needed and armed with supplies, a bed, our favourite rug we arrived at our new home. Scoobie snuggly fitted onto the drive within an inch of his life and with a huge sigh of relief we knew we were safe. Our lovely landlords welcomed us with open arms and we embraced the effortless coincidence as we shut the door behind us.

At 4pm we set foot in our temporary home made of bricks, and at 8pm that very same day, Boris announced the UK’s version of lockdown.  A mere four hours grace! We sank into our bed that night with the biggest sense of gratitude and relief as the enormity of the last 72 hours became real. Our high alert state could finally rest and the waters that now lapped up against our walls could no longer consume us. We were safe, secure and protected, at least for the moment.

Our mission was complete. We had had won the second battle of this war and could now ease into a new way of being with bricks and mortar as our protective walls. We drifted off into a deep sleep, immensely grateful to those who made our passage to safety so smooth. The kindness of strangers humbled us greatly and, as the following weeks would show, would continue to be a dominant feature of our fight against this invisible demon. For now we were safe; for now we could rest.

Virus 0 – The Motoroamers 2

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