simonvarwell.co.uk

I’m not long back from my Inverness Book Festival appearance, which was really good fun, and wonderfully supported by the brilliant staff at Eden Court.

I was lucky enough to have a great audience who asked lots of interesting questions, and I hope my slideshow presentation tour of the mullet adventures (both those featured in Up The Creek Without a Mullet and those from later trips that I am nearly finished writing up) went down well.

However, many of the comments from Kit Fraser, who chaired the event and introduced me, and the questions from the audience, focussed on the fact that the adventures have often taken me to places where not a lot happens – quiet villages, remote and uninhabited backwaters and so on. This surprised me, but pleasantly so.

In amongst the admittedly oddball and madcap adventures of UTCWAM and the impending sequel, there lies, I hope, a quiet focus on the solitude, emptiness and downright unattractiveness of some of the non-entities that I visit. It got me thinking a lot about how some travel writing dwells on, even relishes, the idea of empty, uninteresting and rarely-visited destinations. This is something especially valuable in a world where all the most exciting and interesting places are so easy to get to and so regularly covered by travel writing and new or interesting angles on them are increasingly hard to find.

I made reference in one of my answers from the audience to Daniel Kalder, a Scottish travel writer who, I feel, magnificently captures how such empty and little-known places can be compelling precisely because of their emptiness and nothingness. His two books, Lost Cosmonaut and Strange Telescopes, are well worth a read if that side of travel appeals to you. I increasingly find that it does to me.

You may remember me speaking back in June at A Night of Adventure, a fundraising evening in Edinburgh for the great charity Hope and Homes for Children. It turned out to be a really fun evening, and very inspiring because I was rubbing shoulders with fellow speakers that included round the world cyclists, mountaineers, endurance runners and others who all told incredible tales of exploration, determination and adventure.  Also, of course, it was a great opportunity to hear more about the charity’s work.

I was quite pleased with my own presentation in the end.  I was the penultimate speaker out of twelve, so I was increasingly nervous as the evening went by, particularly as everyone’s thoroughly daring tales of pushing themselves to their physical limits made my mullet-hunting quest feel like a pathetic triviality.

That, however, worked in my favour because my presentation could come over as a refreshing alternative to the more hardcore end of the adventure spectrum, and in any case my fellow presenters were hugely entertaining and hilarious, so my flippant mission ended up not appearing quite so out of kilter as I feared it might.

The presentations were all recorded, and Al Humphreys, who organised the evening, has put them on his Vimeo page.  Do go and check them out – there are some thoroughly inspiring and entertaining tales.  Mine is right here and, of course, just above.

If you survived to the end of Up The Creek Without a Mullet, you might recall mention (on p206) of the Adelaide-based amateur touch rugby team The Mullets, whose member Natalie wrote to me when my 2005 trip to hunt Australian mullets made a few headlines.  She told me about some of the fun quirks of the team including their annual award of The Golden Mullet.

Natalie emailed the other day to report that, sadly, The Mullets are no more, but she was excited to read that the team had been enshrined in history (or at least, mentioned in my book).

Sadly I’ll never be able to fulfil my invitation to go and see them play.

I wonder if this was how people felt when Third Lanark hit the dust?

Longtime readers will know that I am really not a fan of Facebook. I never really thought it did anything that other things (eg this blog, or email, or Flickr, or – gasp! – talking to people) didn’t do. However, I joined a few years ago to give it a try, and found it tolerable though a bit creepy. Eventually though I gave up on it and was quite happy being an exile.

But increasingly, and against my prediction that it would be a passing fad, my absence from it has been felt keenly on a couple of occasions. Most recently and importantly, much of the emerging details about Kieran’s kidnap happened within Facebook so I only got information second-hand with some delay, which was frustrating when a friend was in danger.

Also, with my book “Up The Creek Without a Mullet” approaching its first birthday and still going strong, I’ve been working with my publishers to explore ways of keeping the book’s profile high – and indeed raising it. One consequence of this is that I have realised that Facebook is a valuable tool for those with something to promote.

So it is with a heavy heart – not to mention a full recognition of my own hypocrisy in changing my mind yet again – I have returned to Facebook.

Those of you who arrived at this post via the front door will have noticed some wee icons on the bottom-right of the front page (which I found here). These are direct links to my Twitter, my Flickr and my brand new mullet adventures page on Facebook; not to mention the wopping big box on the right hand side of this post glaringly and shamefully directing you to it.  You may also have noticed the “share” buttons at the bottom of each blog post too, allowing you to link easily via various social networking sites to anything I might have said in here that’s of interest (I know, hope springs eternal).

Further, you can even enter “Simon Varwell’s mullet adventures” as one of the Books that you like on your Facebook profile as well. If indeed you did like it. You might have hated it, but I don’t think there’s an option for that on Facebook. Yet.

Anyway, there are already plenty folk who have – in the parlance of Facebook with which I am slowly reacquainting myself – “liked” my mullet adventures page, and you’re welcome to “like” it too and tell your friends all about it.

I’ve really entered the world of social media now. And there’s no turning back.

I think.

The modest flurry of media coverage of “Up The Creek Without a Mullet” in Australia continues.

First up I was in the Brisbane Courier Mail on Tuesday of this week. Readers of UTCWAM may recall towards the end of the book me describing an interview with Rod Chester from the Courier Mail, and chatting about everything from the Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to fish factories.  It was a fun chat because after a raft of nerve-wracking, time-pressed live radio interviews it was a pleasure to talk at length in a more relaxed way.  We spoke at length for this recent article and it was nice to catch up with Rod again after five years and talk about how the mission had turned into a book.  Incidentally, you can follow Rod on Twitter.

Secondly, I was in yesterday’s Illawarra Mercury (online and pdf).  Again, readers of UTCWAM will know that I owe a lot to the Mercury - they did a couple of great articles about me in 2005, one before my arrival which led to me meeting some wonderful people, and then one upon my visit to Mullet Creek, Dapto, the headline of which inspired the book’s title.

Their article yesterday was at one point the fifth most-read article on the Mercury’s website. Frankly I struggle to believe what four stories could possibly have been more important to the people of the Illawarra region…

And finally, I have one forthcoming radio interview (I’m waiting for ABC Brisbane’s breakfast show to read the book), and my recent ABC Perth one to upload – I’ll share it with you once I’ve figured a way of doing so.

I had a busy day yesterday.  I took the dreaded “red eye” 0647 train to Edinburgh for a day’s work, and then had a couple of interesting engagements in the evening.

First, due to a chance encounter at a recent Highland Literary Salon gathering, I was invited to the equivalent literary get-together in Edinburgh, which was an interesting experience.  I’m not sure I suit “literary” circles, and feel slightly out of sync when people tell me about their highly intelligent literary pursuits and I respond in turn to the inevitable question by telling them about mullets.  I also think I inadvertantly insulted a world-renowned author, so maybe it’s not for me.

Indeed, when I texted Niall, with whom I am staying down here, to say I’d be at a literary salon, he replied:

“A literary salon?  You need to take a close look at the direction your life is heading.”

“I know,” I texted back.  “I need to get into drugs or something.”

Following the salon I met Niall to get some food – The Last Drop, a nice and very typically Edinburgh pub on the Grassmarket with most eclectic music tastes (War of the Worlds to Nirvana via Gerry Rafferty & Bob Holness).

After that, I was on the phone to ABC radio in Perth, Australia, who recorded a short interview with me about Up The Creek Without a Mullet.  It’s part of some recent publicity I’ve been doing now the book is available as an ebook, and if you happened to be listening to Wednesday’s breakfast show then you might have heard me.

It was quite a deja vu moment, though, because it was the same show – and indeed same presenter and producer – I spoke to five years ago when hunting mullets in Australia.  If presenter Eoin Cameron is reading this, then apologies that he is rechristened Ian in my description of that 2005 interview towards the end of the book.  Serves me right for making assumptions purely on what I hear: another for the typo list!

Another result of my efforts has been a short piece in the Sydney Morning Herald Diary today.  That again was something I featured in five years ago when they picked up on the Bundaberg News-Mail’s front page from a day or so previously, and propelled me, very briefly, into a whirlwind of interviews and even a TV appearance – but of course you can read all about that in UTCWAM’s closing chapters.

I’ve tapped up quite a few contacts from five years ago, and so there are a few other radio and newspaper pieces “Down Under” in the pipeline.  I’ll of course post details here as I know them.  It’s nice but strange to be talking to the same individuals all these years later, suggesting I’m destined to feature in Aussie media precisely once every five years.

Stand by for 2015, I guess.

The other day, Nicole and I booked tickets to go to the south of Spain for two weeks later this summer.

Now, the concept of two weeks in Spain is loaded with all sorts of images of debauched, alcohol-soaked holidays in once-quiet historic resorts in Spain that have been turned into ugly centres of British hedonism, no doubt to the embarassment of most Brits and Spaniards.  However, our trip, I can confirm, will be far from that.  Nicole has family in Spain so we intend to head out and see them before doing a bit of exploring around the area.

I’ve never been to Spain before, and it’s a country I know little about beyond the cliches, nor have much in the way of strong draws to.  So it will be interesting to read up a bit about what’s in the area we’ll be covering and what I can be enthused or tempted by.

More than that, I am just looking forward to being abroad again: shockingly, my first time out of the UK since my mullet-hunting trip to the USA in September 2008.  Not that the last year and a half has been short of adventure, of course – what with getting married, getting a book published and so on – and there are a few other bits and pieces of excitement coming up this summer that I’ll tell you about soon.

And don’t let this trip to Spain make you think that mullets are off the agenda, either.  The mission is still very much alive, but with the book to promote and the sequel to work on, it may be a bit longer yet before the next mullet trip can be effectively planned.

We will be flying with BA, and of course three potential pitfalls come to mind.  Firstly, it will be ridiculously hot; not my favourite state of being.  However, this particular time slot is unavoidable for for various reasons of practicality and work.  Secondly, there is a huge, big, Icelandic volcano belching its unflyable ash across half of Europe.  For both this reason as well as the love of overland travel, we’d ideally be going to Spain by train or something, but sadly time and money simply do not allow.  And thirdly, BA are engaged in an industrial dispute with its unions, meaning some small risk of strikes over the summer; but given the good price we found, it’s a gamble we’ve judged to be worth taking.

Searing heat, ash cloud risks, and potential strikes.  This, I think, is the ultimate in extreme travel.

One of the mullets I have been most apprehensive about visiting since discovering it is Mullet, in Haiti. Crippled by civil war, poverty and environmental damage, Haiti was always going to be a difficult place to get around, but it remains in my mind and I always think about the place when it is in the news.

No more so than recently, with the news of the terrible earthquake that has rocked the country. Talk about knocking a country when it’s down – it seems like the most horrendous carnage has been reaped in a land that desperately needs some stability and prosperity, and the scale of the earthquake in such a small country is pretty much unimaginable. Somehow having scoured a map of Haiti and imagined getting from Port-au-Prince to the seemingly remote Mullet in the south-west makes the news seem a little more real to me, and the mission a great deal more frivilous and pointless.

It’s a similar feeling I had one day when I was in Australia in 2005, all set to do some radio interviews about the mullet mission when reports of the 7/7 London bombings broke and the news agenda was turned upside down.

Perhaps one day I will make it to Haiti when the journey is easier both in terms of practicality and conscience. But for now, it’s reassuring there is so much effort from individuals, organisations and governments to respond to the crisis. Hilton Church has outlined its various actions on its blog.

The prospect of a book coming out that begins the story of the mullet mission – which is now, incidentally, on Sandstone Press and available for pre-order on Amazon – has got me thinking about the quest as a whole. Specifically, the total number of mullets.

Six years ago, when there were only five or six known mullets, finishing the mission seemed achieveable. There are now twenty-eight and it’s scary. So I’ve decided that it’s time to draw a line and say “no more new mullets” and just finish the twenty-eight mullets I know of currently.

This is for two reasons.

Firstly, I’ve always been rather reticent of too much publicity, because it often leads to people getting in touch with new mullets, stretching the finishing line further and further ahead. I refer to this towards the end of “Up The Creek Without a Mullet” as like trying to kill the Hydra – you kill one and two more appear in its place. With a book forthcoming, and publicity likely, the “Hydra effect” is likely to kick in once more and the finishing line could zoom away from me at an irrecoverable warp speed.

Secondly, there’s been a certain authenticity about the mission so far – at least, I like to think so. I’ve not been doing it to write a book, I’ve been doing it because I had an idea, committed myself to it and didn’t want to admit defeat. Sure, I’ve been interested in the idea of it being a book for some time now, but only because enough people have said “that would make a good book” for me to believe that maybe they’re right.

There’s a danger that I could continue with this mission ostensibly just to write a book; rather than for the sake of achievement, to have a laugh, visit unusual places and meet interesting new people. I like those reasons and don’t want the expectation of a book to overshadow them.

Of course, there are still fourteen mullets to go, and so there will inevitably be an assumption underpinning any future travels that there’s a story still to be told, perhaps in later books. But I’d much rather allow the mission to remain as uncontrived as possible, in order to prove to myself that I can do this as far as I can largely on my own initiative, as it was at the beginning.

I often suspected that there would one day be a threat that the mission would either never be completed or become contrived. Also, life has changed significantly since 2003 when I first discovered Mullet in Albania. So for those reasons, I think it’s time to say twenty-eight is the limit and I am not seeking any more.

There’s no particular significance of twenty-eight, mind, other than it being the current total – nobody’s challenged me to visit that precise number, and it doesn’t for represent some personally important number, for instance my age.

I’ve even scoured 28′s own Wikipedia page, which doesn’t suggest anything to me that makes it a good maximum number of mullets. Though it’s fascinating to discover that there are such things as Keith numbers, which sounds like a concept dreamt up by a man in a pub rather than something conceived by a distinguished mathematician.

So other than the two reasons above, there’s no particular logic behind deciding to stop at twenty-eight. Or indeed to carry on until twenty-eight.

However, there’s equally no particular logic behind deciding to visit all the places in the world with the word “mullet” in their name in the first place.

So I’m just going to visit twenty-eight of them because that’s what I’ve decided, and because I can.

I hope…

Just a few days before Sandstone Press go public about “Up the Creek Without a Mullet”, I can exclusively reveal the front cover.

Here it is on the right. I hope you’ll agree it’s pretty cool. When I first saw it I definitely got a tingle of excitement. Somehow it all feels a lot more real now I’ve seen and approved the cover.

It was a very enjoyable process to come up with a cover, but very challenging too. I had to think about what, exactly, the book was all about – not in a few words, but in a picture.

Vague ideas turned into precise pictures and then finally into a refined product as emails and drafts were batted between publisher, designer and author (me, obviously).

I hope you like it! I certainly do.

The book, as I think I have mentioned before, is out in February, but should appear on Amazon and elsewhere for advance purchases before then.

More on all that malarky very soon…