A blind guy, a lexydisc and a small boat on the Indian Ocean

It’s possibly slightly odd to say that you met an inspiration in the mens toilets at a hotel in Mauritius .

The gentleman in question, was in fact, blind and needed my help to find the sink tap so he could wash his hands. Happily I obliged and then extended my help by being his guide to get out of the toilet and meet his friend waiting in the lobby outside.

Our connection could easily have ended there, but it’s strange how fate works. A conversation ensued, resulting in our shared passion for sailing being a main topic.

Amazingly, Anthony announced that he was going windsurfing! The beach team, after much persuasion, were going to attempt to shadow him on another windsurfer and guide this hero of the sea, around what could be a navigational nightmare for a sighted, seasoned Vendee Globe sailer.

Let me paint the picture for you, about 500m off the launching beach is a thunderous reef which would turn you into fish food very quickly if you strayed too close. Before you reach the reef, you need to navigate several moored boats, three peddalos with dubious holiday goers who have taken full advantage of the all inclusive drinks service, a couple of first time paddle boarders, a few equally rubbish canoeists and just to add another splash of danger, a water ski boat and a parasailing boat, both driven at perminant high speed by frustrated powerboat racers.

We will ignore the shoals of swimmers and snorkelling budgie smugglers, they at least had the sense to keep in the shallows.

So hopefully you now have the full picture, in fact, in exactly in the same way I described it to Anthony just before he set off on his windsurfer.

The story of the heroic Anthony could stop there and we would be in awe of how this man has made us beach loungers look pathetically inadequate.

However, what Anthony really wanted, was to take out one of the small sailing boats. The beach team were naturally dead against the upgrade to a vessel that could easily carry our adventurer onto the reef or bounce off the many other obstacles previously mentioned including Pina Colada infused humans.

Now you know when your mouth says things before your brain has fully engaged?!

It turns out that this is what happened, when I volunteered to be Anthony’s co-pilot on our adventure out to sea, on a tiny boat with not an insurmountable amount of fluky wind.

The boat only had enough room for Anthony to steer and work the sails. Yes, quite obviously I was the navigator and he was the skipper, it really wouldn’t have worked the other way round.

I would have to unceremoniously cling to the mast and sit at the bow with my back to the direction of travel. Hopefully you’re keeping up.

As complicated as this reads, the reality was really something else and I have to say, fairly unplanned as far as one would expect given the challenge!

It was “simple”, all I had to do was give Anthony directions. Left a bit, right a bit, straight ahead…this then turned into the points on a clock face, 12:00 being dead ahead, 2:00 being slightly right etc. you get the drift.

So, we now have to bring on board the minor subject of my dyslexia. To any straight minded folk, the clock face concept makes perfect sense.

To a dyslexic, 2:00 very easily becomes 10:00 and on a boat steered by a blind man through what may as well be the navigational equivalent of the Dover Straight, this is most confusing to everyone. Especially the helmsman, who had no sight at all and now thinks I am the biggest issue on the boat!

Through Anthony’s clear sailing skill and my haphazard navigation calls, we managed to get to clear water and had, for me anyway, an all too brief perfect sail on the Indian Ocean.

We may have intentionally strayed a little outside the permitted sailing boundaries, but as we were having massive fun and kind of breaking the perceived rules of possibility anyway, we agreed that I would take the blame, as the navigator. They could hardly hold Anthony to account anyway!

The sail back to shore was as near perfect as it could be. We had to dodge a few peddalos who clearly had no idea how wrong things could go. I got my clock face backwards a few times but by now my intrepid helmsman had the sense to question me and my twos quickly changed to tens, punctuated with an expletive and an apology.

If you ever needed an example of total trust, teamwork and sheer bravery, this was it. Anthony and I had met for less than a couple of hours and he allowed me to be his eyes for a brief moment so we could both enjoy a shared passion.

I felt totally at ease with him steering our fate. Trust is such an important human trait and often undervalued. It defines us and is the foundation of relationships at every level, be it friendship, work or just two blokes on a beach.

Suffice to say I am honoured and privileged to have had this experience. I do however believe that although I found it profoundly inspiring, it was just a normal day for Anthony and I suspect nothing he will write home about!