I know what it's like to be a "Survivor" contestant

---

One Year ago today:

My own personal “Survivor”
and why this is the closest I will ever get to being on the show.


A year ago this week, Linda, Jonny and I were holed up on the outskirts of Algeciras, Spain.

Now, Algeciras is a pretty scuzzy place. I’m talking don’t go out at night scuzzy.
We found ourselves staying on the side of a hill, under a small burr oak tree, near to a bunch of ruined homes, warehouses and other trash strewn about.

We couldn’t be sure we were alone either as every now and again we would catch glimpses of locals wandering the hillside, poking around our tent.
What this meant was that we could never leave the tent and our belongings alone. Someone would always have to be with the tent.

Under normal circumstances, we would have sought better, more sheltered areas in which to pitch a tent. But you see, on this particular night when we were choosing our spot we had just trekked some 5 kilometres, hauling all of our belongings, including a trolley cart full of glass peanut butter jars, along with all of our provisions, tents, and what have you.

The poorly chosen campsite would come back to haunt us for the next four days. We had foolishly put off crossing the Straits of Gibraltar towards Morocco because we wanted to save a few euros, which could be achieved by waiting four days and catching the special Saturday ferry. Had we known what weather was in store for us, we would surely have taken the first boat out of Europe.

Instead, we bought some wine, made plans to relax at the edge of town, waiting the few days until our cheap ferry. Hindsight is a total bitch.

The morning after we pitched our tent, we woke up to a sky with low-hanging, ominous storm clouds. We all instinctively knew we’d be in for a big rainstorm. Prior experiences holed up in my tent during a rainstorm had proven treacherous. With three bodies crammed into a 2-person tent, the sides bulge, the zippers don’t quite reach the ground, and there is just a general lack of comfort.

So here we were, Wednesday morning, staring up at dark rain clouds, praying to whoever would listen to spare us from the rain. It wasn’t in our cards. That very afternoon, the rain began. It wouldn’t let up until Monday of the following week. But I am getting ahead of myself.

What came next would shape our entire trip, in some way or another.

---