Cause and Effect – Theo’s blog

Back in 2023, once me and Shannon had realised the impact flying has on nature and climate and decided we never wanted to fly again, I’d assumed that trips by train into Europe were the most I was likely to see of the big old world.

I’d fully digested the implications of making that decision publicly, reinforced by recording Shannon’s song “Flying” in 2007. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNO7F5m-7pQ)  I wouldn’t be jetting to LA to take up any amazing future artistic opportunities, our band Seize The Day couldn’t go and perform at any distant climate change summits, and much as I really wanted to, I wasn’t going to visit the First Nation protest at Standing Rock to stop the North Dakota pipeline, (so I wrote a song about online solidarity instead – https://seizetheday.org/music/standing-rock-2/

It felt tough sometimes to hold that position, especially when it came up in conversation with friends and I had to deal with their apparent discomfort or occasional push-back. We’ve never knowingly vibed anyone else about their travel decisions, although just by holding the line it might have felt like that.  I know that living in a fossil-fuel powered system where we are also “time-poor” inevitably makes hypocrites of us all, and I know I’m no better in that regard than anyone else.

We all do our best in life and not flying was a red line we didn’t want to cross. That was how we’d gotten into Shannon’s inspired idea of travelling to Oz over land and water. We realised pretty quickly that the borders of Azerbaijan and China might become obstacles, so we grudgingly agreed that we might have to take a short jet plane hop if that became unavoidable.  But then, having successfully navigated those difficult waters, by the time we were island-hopping through the indo-pacific I was really feeling confident that we’d find a boat across the Timor Sea to Oz without much bother.  We were unstoppable.

I’ve developed a kind of faith I life over the years, reinforced by Shannon’s influence, that if you only show willing and refuse to give up, your chances of achieving any goal are massively multiplied. Even when an obstacle looks insurmountable, or an outcome feels irreversible, patient focus and exhaustive thinking somehow makes the extremely unlikely become possible. The universe responds to commitment.

But not always. And not when it can’t.  Unimaginably lucky coincidences happen, and previously inconceivable breakthroughs occur.  But miracles don’t.

The fact is that though we’d explored every possible aspect of travel into Russia and China, we’d only waved vaguely in the direction of East Timor – it seemed so far away – so we hadn’t understood that our chances of finding a boat would be governed by timing, governed by seasonal winds and weather. If we’d arrived at the Ports of Kupang or Dili just 2 weeks earlier we may have found many more sail boats in harbour and, with the help of the kindly harbour masters, I’m sure we’d have hitched a lift, (even if it appears that cargo ships post Covid are more reluctant).

But we didn’t. The weather window was shrinking. We’d followed up every possible avenue, and we had close calls with hope on two occasions – up to the point where it seemed we were about to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, proving my philosophy of life 100%, and giving all the people following our blog a happy ending – but even the boat called “Destiny 1”, which dropped into Dili for emergency refuelling just as we ran out of time, with space on board and a skipper who might be willing to take us if we cleared the paper work, proved that though optimism and the kindness of strangers go an awful long way, other physical realities can still sink your plans.

A mighty storm was coming. The man who owned “Destiny 1” didn’t want the liability of helping strangers, (even though he wasn’t on board himself) and there would be no more boats after his.  In my heightened emotional state it felt like a metaphor for our times.

So after the tears of frustration there was the acceptance. Objectively there were 3 options: Stay in Dili until spring when the sail boats come back, and miss Christmas and our sisters wedding; take a short flight from Dili to Darwin accepting the carbon footprint and the feelings of being compromised; or say we’d gone as far as we could and prepare for going back home.

As it happened, we probably couldn’t have afforded to stay that long in Dili, so we only had 2 choices.  And our love and family commitment made it obvious what we’d do. I was reassured by how relatively small the co2 emissions would be, compared with if we had taken a jet from London to Sydney (0.1 tons vs 3.5). But it made me aware again how much I’ve chosen to be compromised.

Just as I know, when I take that flight, that I’m adding to the carbon load that adds to the warming that adds to the flooding and drying of the world, and I know that that brings humanity and natures extinction that much nearer, I know that the same was true when we stayed at home, drove to work, went to Tescos, bought an avocado or drove to see Nana and Grandad.  I can just about make my peace with these impossible compromises, because I want to still be part of the world I live in, still be connected to family and friends, still earn money and not become an unapproachable self-righteous hermit, still feel like I’m alive and not just existing.

It’s not that I don’t think things could be different, it’s just that in the end it’s not my little lifestyle choices that make the difference, but collective pressure and material necessity.  The reason to do my best according to what I know, is to preserve my mental health and add to the collective pressure. We’ve met so many people who don’t want to fly to travel now,  there should be a regular and accessible low carbon connection between all our continents.  There should be air ships in the sky. There should be trains that are cheaper than planes. There should be holiday allowance that gives working class people time to travel slower.

And the benefit of this journey to me has also been to shake me up and remind me that most people on the planet can’t even think about saving up some wages, leaving their jobs and travelling as a welcome guest beyond their country’s borders.  If I need to salve my conscience any more about breaking, however briefly, the decision I made 20 years ago, it’s going to be by returning home without another flight, and then spending my time rebuilding in the West the things that have mattered wherever we’ve gone: ground level resilience, kindness and connection, and the defence and repair of the natural world.

Because, as the weather events in Oz and the political events of the world keep spelling out loud and clear on my twitter feed, a mighty storm is coming, the owners controlling our destiny won’t help us, and our best and only hope is our unwavering commitment to nature and each other.

• Theo, December 2023