Why we moved to the Yukon Wilderness (Lou's version)

Lou's version of events:

Winter 2011 Camberwell, South London

My acting headshot

We left London and moved to Alaska because I called Neil a moron. 

Neil and I were living in (then) cheap and dowdy Camberwell. Neil had a job at BSkyB, I was working, or often not working, as an actor. We had a lopsided cat (a stroke victim), no kids. 

Life was fine but dull. Not much to complain about, though that never stopped me. 

The far north
I had a passion for the far north and would save all year to spend a couple of weeks in Alaska on dogsledding trips. Neil had a passion for nice food, pubs and comfort so I travelled alone. 

On holiday in Alaska

Cabin sitting
Whilst mushing in the Alaskan bush I met a guy, let’s call him Hank, who needed a house-sitter for his remote, off-road homestead and 50-some sled dogs. Six weeks alone in the wilderness! 

I cleared the decks of acting jobs (cancelled one day's role play for a bank, I was in high demand) and returned to Alaska a few months later. 

I didn't burn down his cabin or kill myself and, apart from getting his snow machine stuck in creek, the stay went well. 

4,500 miles from London

The offer
On his return, Hank asked me if Neil and I wanted to move to Alaska and help out on the homestead. I couldn’t see any reason not to give up our lives in London, abandon our careers, rent our house and move 4.5 thousand miles across the world, almost to the arctic circle. 

But thought I ought to check with Neil. 

Neil said “I’ll think about it.” I knew he’d say yes- what kind of an idiot wouldn’t? 

Dartmoor

Differences
Neil had never been outdoor-sy. I was. I grew up in the seaport city of Plymouth. Dad worked in the dockyard and Sundays were spent on the beach, moors or swimming on Plymouth Hoe. 

Neil spent his childhood reading Lord of the Rings in a darkened room. 

I’d spent a lot of time encouraging him in outdoor pursuits. Through a series of prolonged rows, I’d “encouraged” him to body board, downhill ski, x-country ski and even dragged him over to Alaska once to join me on a dogsledding trip, which he almost enjoyed.

Headcase
It didn't occur to me that Hank was a headcase and completely deluded about our abilities. Nor that it is hard to find people who will move to the remote wilderness to gut fish and shovel dogshit for no money, so he was desparate. 


I let Neil think about it for 6 months. 

Huge roast dinner- Neil's idea of a good time

We had to get back to Hank so, eventually, I asked-

"Neil, do you want to totally change our lives and go and live in Alaska?"
"Umm. Well… no."
"That’s your final decision?"
"Umm... yes." 
"OK."

So life would just trundle on in Camberwell with our apoplectic cat (see footnote).

Life in Camberwell

It was a huge change, a great risk. What if we give up our jobs, rent out the house, hate Alaska and return unemployed and homeless? We could even die out there. 

I was sympathetic to Neil's fears however I felt some encouraging and supportive challenge might help him reconsider.

“That is the stupidest fucking decision you have ever made in your life! You’re a fucking moron! We’ll never get a chance like this again!”

We would never get a chance like this again. And provided we didn’t die, we could always come back. Fortunately, under some duress, Neil reconsidered.

We told friends and family and were met with stunned silence. One friend cheerily pointed out that we ought to get married in case one of us died. 

She was right. We hurriedly did so before departing 5 months later.

Footnote for animal lovers. We left the cat to starve on the streets of SE5. (No we didn’t, she was adopted by my Mum.)

Aah! There they are in the garden.