Newspaper & Magazine articles

Cannibalism and Climbing Carstenzs Pyramid.
(Sunday Telegraph)

I had just reached for a hand hold about 600 feet up on the south face of South East Asia’s highest, but rarely climbed mountain when I heard the frantic cries above me. “ROCK!” three voices screamed in quick succession before they watched intently to see what the man-size boulder, hurtling in a zigzag fashion in my direction, would do next.

I was clinging to an almost sheer part of the rock face at the bottom of a steep sided, but shallow and oval shaped gully about 40 metres long. When I looked up I remember seeing the large diamond shaped rock bouncing first left, before it then quickly diverted to the right, spinning violently as it did so. I can recall it now only in slow motion. In reality, there must have been about 2-3 seconds to react. We had all been trained to “melt” into the mountain, tucking our heads and bodies into the rock face, at the spot we happened to be at if there was such a danger. But, I ignored those instructions on instinct and watched and waited. That was to save my life.

Just when I thought the boulder was going to pass me to my right – it was, by then, about 10 metres away at two o’clock – it swiftly changed direction and headed straight for me. I had less than a second to react. With a mixture of adrenaline and blind hope, I shuffled by finger and toe tip about a yard along the rock face to my left and tried to “melt” into the mountain. I closed my eyes tightly and braced myself for what, in those few crucial moments, I had judged would be a real “touch and go” situation. It was literally that. The rock rushed past my head, hitting the top part of my rucksack and shoulder, before plummeting down the mountain.

Luckily, that section of my pack was empty and almost flat against my back, as it was only half full, and did not give the boulder anything to catch on to and therefore drag me down to an infuriating end – infuriating because, after all the effort involved in getting there, I would not actually have reached the 16,502 ft (5030 metres) summit of Puncak Jaya.

This near nemesis on Puncak Jaya – aka Carstensz Pyramid - was one of many contrasting experiences on our expedition to Irian Jaya which is the easternmost of Indonesian’s 27 provinces which stretch almost 5,000km along a varied archipelago of more than 13,500 islands. I and three friends – David Fox-Pitt, from Perthshire, Neil Laughton and Paul Clarke, both from London, not only spent time being joined-cum-escorted on the climb by members of the Indonesian Special Forces – the infamous Kopassus – so we weren’t kidnapped, but also went “native” with the penis gourd wearing members of the indigenous jungle tribes deep in the interior of Irian Jaya which is one of the last great wild places on Earth. We also found out the truth of what really did happen to the son of the American tycoon Nelson Rockefeller who disappeared mysteriously in 1961.

We travelled to Indonesia to climb the mountain to help raise money for Great Ormond Street Hospital for sick children in London and Merlin, the emergency medical relief charity which helps people in natural disaster areas. It was the first time any outsiders had been allowed in by the authorities to climb Carstensz. Three years ago, four Britons and 23 others were kidnapped in the interior by guerrillas with the Free Papua Movement. The Kopassus launched a rescue operation which, after four months, freed all but two of the remaining hostages who were taken deeper into the jungle by the rebels. The two Indonesians captives were later found hacked into little pieces.

Sergeant Raphael, who is now an undercover soldier with Group 4 of the Kopassus, was then in Group 1 which is one of the two “Direct Action” units who have been so busy of late in East Timor. “It was very exciting,” he told me as he shadowed us wherever we went. “But, this time, Kopassus here to make you safe,” he added with a grin as he showed me his Browning 9mm handgun. His uniformed colleagues nearby, all armed with fully automatic machine guns, smiled in agreement.
What they did not know was that I was not actually a “businessman,” but a journalist who was out there on a personal and professional adventure. Such was the delicacy of this trip that we had to have clearance from the highest levels to be allowed to climb the mountain. We only received permission to do so two weeks before we departed. The slightest thing could have ended the expedition which took about two and a half years to plan.

After meeting the Indonesians who would be joining us during a stopover in the island of Sulawesi, we flew into Timika via Ambon. The atmosphere in Ambon was tense. When we arrived, at least 50 people had been killed in fighting between Christian and Muslim factions. It was to get a lot worse. There were soldiers and policemen with fully automatic machine guns walking moodily up and down the airport concourse. No one seemed to smile.

Timika, though, was different. Being with the Kopassus, we were given VIP treatment at the small airport and bypassed the usual controls and were waved and saluted through a special military checkpoint. It’s a small, hot and dusty town on the southern coast of Irian Jaya where many of the townspeople just used to stop in their tracks to stare at us with an intent inquisitiveness. The temperature was just below 40 celsius. Both David and I had just come from Scotland where it had been just below 0 celsius! He was, by then, suffering very badly from diarrhoea and vomiting. My turn was a few days away.

While we were there, I met an American woman called Patti Seery who, at first, seemed out of place. A native of Chicago, she has adopted Irian Jaya as her second home. “In fact, give me Irian Jaya, any day,” she added. “They have a wonderful and colourful culture and the people are a lot nicer!” So much so it would seem that some of the indigenous tribes have adopted her as a kind of demi-God – “purely by accident,” she said, still with amused disbelief at her bizarre good fortune. Good because it has given this middle-aged woman an entrée into the tribal life and culture that very few outsiders have. This special relationship has enabled her to be privy to the things that very few other people, if any, ever are. And this includes what really happened to Michael C. Rockefeller, a member of the famous American family, who disappeared mysteriously in Irian Jaya in 1961. Speculation about this has ranged from drowning to being eaten by cannibals.

After graduating from Harvard, Michael went to the country on two expeditions to study the life of tribes living in the Baliem Valley and, on the second occasion, to collect art from the Asmat people who live on the swampy marshlands along the south coast. The plan was to take back these artefacts to the Museum of Primitive Art, founded by his father Nelson, which is now part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

For nearly two months, he and a friend visited native villages along the coast and up the rivers. But, on November 18th, in heavy tides and swift currents, their catamaran overturned in the mouth of the Eilanden River. The two native assistants swam to shore for help. Michael and his friend clung to the canoes for nearly a day. But, with no help in sight, Michael decided to swim the 12 miles to land with the help of a buoyancy aid made from two gas tins tied together with his belt. He was never seen again. All that were discovered afterwards were his spectacles. The friend, who stayed with the boat, was later rescued. But, all the subsequently strenuous efforts the Rockefeller family made to try to discover Michael’s fate were done to no avail. And, to this day, no one has been able to provide an answer – until now.

“They tried to establish whether Michael had been eaten by cannibals, as the Asmat people, who inhabit the area he was in, were then practising cannibals. But, they couldn’t. His father went to a lot of trouble to find out this and other options, but neither he nor anyone else were going to get anywhere. The Asmat just wouldn’t say. It’s like a code,” said Patti.

"But, have they told you?" I said.

"Yes," she replied knowingly.

"So, what really did happen to him?"

“They ate him. They (the Asmat) all know that. It’s just that they won’t say it to outsiders. They’ve told me because they consider me to be special to them; one of them. He must have been unlucky and was probably the victim of an avenging killing.”

The Asmat believe that no person, except the very young or very old, dies for any other reason than through tribal fighting or magic. Therefore, each death has to be “avenged” if the spirit of the dead person is to go through the spiritual world known as safan. Although the authorities said cannibalism ended officially in the mid 1960’s, Patti says it went on up until the 1980’s. A family could and still can avenge a death generations later. The important thing is that it is carried out – it does not matter when.

After two days in Timika, we travelled in the standard issue, white four-wheel drive vehicles along the rough road-cum-track into the US-owned Freeport mining company territory and its main settlement. Tembagapura is a generally misty, functional and foreboding place where the people did not seem to smile much. This was our last bit of reasonable comfort before going up through the mine and then embarking on the four to five hour trek to Base Camp.

The weather was deceptively good, giving us magnificent views of the mine and surrounding area. But, all that changed after three hours. The mist and rain moved in which, having walked up in the Scottish Highlands, was no problem for the four British men. But, it was for the Dani porters who were not used to the type of cold we were beginning to experience. They were employed to help us bring up the large amount of equipment, food, tents and such like that was needed for the four of us, the three Indonesian climbers and the four-strong Kopassus escort.

They decided that the weather was not really their sort of thing. So, after making it up three-quarters of the way to Base Camp, they decided to go back down the mountain without telling us. Most of the essential kit they had with them was mine. I can say now that you really do need a sense of humour when you are camped out on a mountain with altitude sickness, diarrhoea, frost nip, the initial onslaught of some of the worst weather experienced there for more than half a century and no sleeping bag. In fact, I did not sleep for four days and, like David, had to force myself to eat even the smallest amounts of food and to drink lots of water to regain at least some strength to try the climb which was postponed a day because of the weather.

By the time we tackled Puncak Jaya, we had moved to Advance Base Camp where the weather more resembled Glencoe in the middle of a winter’s storm than a mountain just south of the Equator. By this point, all our kit was soaking wet. But, when you haven’t washed or shaved for four days, you don’t mind as much.

We climbed up through the mist on generally soft snow and ice in what was a technical climb. There were several pitches of HVS 5.7 and one of HVS 5.9. I had climbed before, but not at this height and certainly not to this level, and that is why I needed it explained to me that HVS stands for Hard Very Severe! In fact, when two of us asked a mountaineering instructor with the SAS for a “crash” climbing course before we went, he said we were “bloody mad” and/or “suicidal” as this was going to be a difficult ascent.

When we did get to the top six to seven hours after leaving the foot of the mountain itself, the mist cleared and exposed the breathtaking glacier on both the north and south sides of the mountain. We had done it, despite the exhaustion, the illness and the odd stray boulder. The sense of achievement and euphoria could only be short lived as we had to get down before it got dark and the weather closed in again – “more people die going down mountains than going up them,” shouted Neil, our team leader, as we prepared to descend, initially all roped together for the first 1,000ft and then by “fast roping” the remaining 1,000-1,500ft back down to Advance Base Camp from where we walked down to Base Camp.

Several days later, we flew from Irian Jaya’s capital, Jayapura, to Wamena, the main settlement in the country’s interior where we haggled – as we did for virtually everything – for a guide to take us in to the jungle so we could meet and spend time with the Dani tribes.

Justin was and probably still is a Dani tribal chief. This explains why he has four wives: two in Irian Jaya, one in the Indonesian capital Jakarta and one, “a blonde German,” in Munich! “It works really well,” said Justin. “It’s not difficult keeping four wives, particularly when they’re spread out so nicely. They don’t seem to complain, anyway.”

He showed us round his village north of Wamena where the men, for the most part, walk around with penis gourds, a welcoming smile on their faces and not much else, except when they’re performing tribal rituals, when they cover themselves in war paint and black pig fat. “Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa…” said one of the other tribal elders as he clasped both my hands and shook them. This greeting apparently covers all manner of things and can mean: “How are you?” “It’s great to see you,” “Things with me are pretty cool and groovy” and even “How’s the wife – sorry, wives?!”

They then proudly showed us the mummified remains of a former tribal chief who, although about 300 years old and looking in mild discomfort, even for a man of his age, is kept in a cabinet in the men’s hut where the four of us slept on a wooden floor covered in straw.

The following morning, the men painted their faces and bodies for the ritual battle before a mock “kill.” Although, firing “man killing” arrows at us on the fringes of this display almost made it a genuine experience for two of us! They then dispatched a little piglet. If we had not haggled the guide price down so successfully we would have got an adult one, we were told! – by firing an arrow at point black range into its heart. It squealed in pain for a few minutes and wriggled its way out of this life and into a village roast which was carved up for us 10 minutes later.

But, as much as this genuine spectacle is colourful and entertaining, one feels it is also beginning to become a cultural cliché. In some parts of the jungle, these natives are no longer shocked by the white man or woman who, once, they might never have seen or very rarely have seen. In some cases, they are beginning to dress like us and use our expressions. One penis gourd wearing Dani tribesman who leapt out in front of me from a field he was tending, aiming his bow and arrow at me, came up and asked for Rupiah – the Indonesian currency – just for looking indigenous. Ten minutes later I saw him in Western flip-flops and a tee shirt and shorts adopting a Noel Coward pose with a cigarette! I half expected him to say, in a British accent, “lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think. So, tell me my dear fellow, have you come far?”

 

The Maverick Crusader
( Richmond magazine)

Stephen Jakobi is a maverick - both professionally and personally. While many other senior London solicitors his age have sat back and watched the often sizeable financial rewards of being a partner in a city law firm fuel a very comfortable future, Stephen has had his mind on other people's futures for which he has been paying.

For almost 10 years he has used his own money to fund the expenses of Fair Trials Abroad (FTA), a charity which fights for the legal rights of European Union citizens accused of and punished for crimes FTA believes them to be innocent of. FTA, which has just celebrated its tenth anniversary (June 2002), has worked on about 1,500 cases - something which has cost Stephen a six figure sum.

FTA fights to highlight the cases of those left languishing in foreign prisons - about 2,000 of them are British - after often being convicted on questionable evidence in courts where proceedings sometimes defy linguistic understanding and proper legal processes. Despite a perception that being British can help you in a tight spot, the Foreign & Commonwealth Office does not hold a get out of a foreign jail free card. The FCO line is that if a British subject has broken the law while in another country, then they should expect the full consequences of that country's legal system - however harsh. But, the FCO is obliged to ensure, as far as it can, that the prisoner is being fairly treated and being kept in justifiable conditions. The British consul, however, cannot secure better treatment than is given to the locals, give or pay for legal advice or start court proceedings, pass on mail from family and friends and investigate the alleged crime. That is where FTA comes in.

I meet Stephen at his deceptively large Georgian home hidden just off Ham Common, near Richmond in Surrey . Behind him in his high-ceilinged study - the FTA nerve centre - is a row of 16 large, eye-catching, gold-backed volumes of the works of Rousseau. When I ask about them, he explains that they were inherited.

"They're the real thing," he says before adding "anyway, they look wonderful and make a good interview backdrop for the TV cameras!"

Stephen's manner is low-key debonair. He has swept-back, dark silvery grey hair and is wearing a blue shirt-sleeve shirt, smart grey trousers and a pair of old, brown leather sandals. He has a distinguished senior Palace official type voice and speaks with thoughtful deliberation. But, there is nothing grandiose about him despite looking and sounding like a member of the Great & Good and despite the elegant surroundings in which we sit. For his charming self-effacement belies a sharp mind and sense of fair play for those who are the victims of injustice. He describes himself, with a twinkle in the eye, as a "fanatical Crusader." And although fanatical seems too strong a word to describe his approach to life, certainly, his change of professional and personal focus at his age would be questioned by many of his professional colleagues, at least.

Even though he is 67, he admits he is working much harder now - "at least 70 hours a week" - and for a lot less money - "you could call it a secretary's wage" than he did when he was the senior partner in a central London law firm. But, despite this, he is genuinely thrilled by this life, only wishing he had started it earlier.

"I'm one of the only people who has found the perfect job and been able to tailor make it for myself. You can get much better than that, can you?"

Stephen had a traditional upper middle class upbringing. He left Malvern College , a public school in Worcestershire which he "loathed," to put himself through a crammer school to obtain enough A'levels to win a place at Cambridge where he studied law. It was his time in the British Army, as a National Service signaller, which inspired him to become a lawyer after seeing various courts martial.

He trained as a solicitor and specialised in litigation and varying forms of dispute work, setting-up his own firm with two other legal partners. That was to change quite significantly when, on one day in 1990, he tuned into the radio news and heard the story about two Birmingham teenagers who had been arrested in Thailand accused of carrying a whopping 66kg of heroine - the largest haul ever seen in the country. Karen Smith and Patricia Cahill had gone on holiday to Thailand after a British man they hardly knew offered to pick-up the bill. Both girls subsequently served three years in prison after being caught with the heroin hidden in their luggage.

"If you know anything about drug smuggling and youngsters - and I did, through Class A drugs trials and things - the odd kilo or two stuck under a jumper wouldn't stop me worrying about anything. But, I didn't believe a word of what I was getting because of the quantity," said Stephen.

Compelled by a sense of pending injustice, he called up the Foreign Office and offered his services. The father of one of the two teenagers, Karen Smith, then asked for Stephen's help.

"I found myself for the next three years in the most amazing campaign which I found myself heading which disclosed to me the appalling state of our legal protection while abroad."

But, the work he was pursuing for what was to become FTA was clashing with the needs of his practice. So, he retired from the latter in October 1993 to concentrate on the increasing work load and worked full-time for the pressure group from his home as "a one-man band;" although, FTA now also has a one-room casework office just over the river Thames in Twickenham.

"This is the first year I have ever earned any money!" he adds with a stoical laugh referring to the charitable trust which now helps fund very basic costs. "This is first time they have been able to afford to pay me. I was paying out of my own pocket for almost 10 years - savings and the like - and have been working for free. I have needed what money there was to pay the professional staff first. They're paid a miserable wage, bless them.

"If you want to work in this work you will be a Crusader and if you aren't a Crusader to begin with you will find what I call your 'case.' And it's worked with everybody. I tell them you will find your 'case' and it will turn you from somebody who's decently committed to human rights into a Crusader willing to work long hours for short pay because you are convinced of the justice of the courts. And, sure enough, we've all found our 'case' and mine was the first one - Karen Smith.

"There is a sharp divide between, say, the first five years, which mainly represent a personal odyssey and learning curve, and the latter five years as FTA moved towards a more organisational approach."

The Deputy Director, Sarah de Mas, who used to run the British Legal Interpreters Project, and Stephen work very closely together spending at least an hour or two on the telephone every day discussing cases and strategy. They're helped by two part-time German lawyers, Sabine Zanker and Kirsten Lampe, who are funded by the Nuffield Foundation which gives financial help to charities. But, they're being swamped by the ever increasing work load because, as Stephen puts it, "we are recognised as the authority on inter-state civil liberties."

FTA doesn't charge clients for its services. All it asks is that they pay for necessary expenses, like flights, hotels and the like. But, one former FTA employee did illegally charge clients for representation and was later convicted of fraud.

The charity aims to help fight for justice for European Union citizens accused of a crime in a country other than their own. It actively campaigns for basic standards of justice to be applied throughout the EU, as well as worldwide, and for the availability of legal aid and an effective interpretation and translation service.

FTA advises and assists people assert their legal rights under international law, from arrest and investigation to the conclusion of the trial process. It also pinpoints appropriate local lawyers with whom it works and briefs MPs and MEPs. Although it works closely with the European Parliament - Stephen even confesses to having also worked with the celebrity publicist Max Clifford on occasions - it no longer has a good relationship with the Foreign Office.

"They don't like us because we are independent. One of the reasons they don't like us is, they said very frankly, our attitude to publicity. It's not our business to worry about what the Foreign Office staff wants to do about publicity. A high profile case brings in lots more cases. We're a nuisance. In their eyes we have no useful function except to create problems for them. They don't like us.

"PR is very useful. The job of the media is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable! And there's nothing more afflicted than some guy or, preferably, a Page 3 type girl sitting in a foreign jail, who may well be innocent, being done down by law and there's nobody more comfortable than the Foreign Office."

Stephen reminds me that FTA only represents people who it believes are genuinely innocent.

"We are fussy about merit. There's got to be something about the case, not about the defendant. But, one way of confirming whether they helped a truly innocent person is what he calls "the off the plane test ."

"You never know quite what your client's status is until they come off the plane and meet the British press - inevitable - and the first reaction is 'Caw. That was a bummer. Thank God I'm out of there and I'll never carry drugs again!' And I go 'Oh God!" That's the off the plane test . Much more useful is: 'This was a disgraceful experience and I intend to do absolutely everything in my power to insure other innocent people in prison are helped and this government will pay for it and that government will pay for it and I go 'Ahh. Phew!'"

His tone becomes more serious when he talks about injustice again.

"In many Indian cases you won't get a fair trial, anyway, because of corruption. The police and everybody's on the hand-out, everybody's playing games, everybody's keen to scapegoat foreigners because they might be rich. So, whether you're guilty or innocent, you'll get rubbish at the bottom level.

"But, our chief function is a behind-the-scenes one which is to stop foreign lawyers taking advantage of the client. If you've got a good lawyer in another country, half your troubles are over. The main problem is that lawyers reflect the standards of the society they're in and if you've got a corrupt society, all the lawyers are corrupt and bent, as well. In Thailand , you will find a lawyer who invariably fits the Al Capone definition of an honest citizen - a guy who, when he's bought, stays bought! The lawyers in these countries do not act as representatives in court. Really, they're commission agents who know where to place the bribes."

When I ask about the case Stephen is proudest of he smiles and, after only a few seconds thought about the hundreds FTA has been involved in, he says promptly: "Two. Both women. One is Rachel McGee."

McGee was 24 when she was released from a Cuban jail after serving nearly two years for drugs trafficking. The former secretary from East London had originally been sentenced to 15 years in prison in 1998 with fellow Londoner Michelle Malcolm.

When McGee was offered a cheap flight to Cuba for a three-week holiday with her new boyfriend she jumped at the chance. They met up with Malcolm and another man and the four of them spent a lot of time together. But, she was later arrested as part of a drugs sting involving four smugglers, "friends" of her boyfriend, who had arrived from Jamaica with 15kg of cocaine. She had no drugs on her at the time of her arrest and her trial was conducted solely in Spanish. And although McGee refuted allegations of being involved in trafficking and the Jamaicans denied any knowledge of her, she was still imprisoned.

After spending two years in appalling conditions in a women's prison she developed a kidney infection, caught worms, had stomach problems, bleeding gums and went down to just six stones in weight. The Cuban authorities then made a surprise announcement that they were releasing the women as a gesture of international goodwill. A surprise to many, but not to Stephen.

"There was one fact that screamed at me. There are various criteria in which you can tell if drugs couriers are dupes and if they are not dupes. There are a number of tests you can apply. And, by all the tests I could apply, it screamed dupe. She even paid for her own holiday. That is a very good test. I mean, if you go on a free holiday I'm very suspicious.

"Then there's the shared suitcase test. The guy who's duping you and going on holiday with you says: 'Look. The weight limit's low, we'll share a suitcase. I've got a big one.' And you share a suitcase and the boyfriend, when he's over there, rushes out and buys great big fat teddy bears and things that won't fit into the suitcase any longer. 'Oh God, we've got to go and get another one,' he says, dashing out to the stores. That's when you get the second suitcase with the false bottom and the drugs already in. And that's only done with dupes. It's a lovely way of getting someone to unwittingly carry drugs.

"But, the most peculiar test of all was this. You got a group all meeting up in Cuba involving several native British, native Afro-Caribbeans and British Caribbeans.and an Irish girl! Very odd. One of the other tests for drugs is that people use people from the same culture. You don't trust people outside your own background and culture unless you're doing some duping.

"At her trial she wasn't allowed to give evidence and the written court proceedings proved quite clearly that the lawyers who represented her were in conflict. We started a campaign here, getting politicians involved and, within seven months of our starting, she came home. Her partner did not come home and could still be in jail. As far as I'm concerned he can rot because there are few examples of evil worse than getting people into trouble without their knowing. You deserve twice the sentence yourself for doing that sort of thing."

But, when I ask him about his worst case, the happily wistful look melts into a mixture of reflective sadness and frustration.

Alan John Davies is serving life in a Thai jail for drugs charges. He was initially sentenced to death, but that was later commuted to life imprisonment. The 61 year old, from Poole in Dorset, has been protesting his innocence from a squalid prison cell in Bangkok for 12 years. He was accused of selling heroin to a corrupt police informer in Thailand . The evidence on which he was convicted came from the police who refused to hand over CCTV tapes to the trial court which would have verified his version of events. To make matters worse, the Foreign Office decided not to support his campaign because his case was neither a humanitarian nor a medical one.

Stephen explained: "The Thais and the Brits have done a deal which will let him be expatriated and freed on parole within months if he agrees to say he is guilty. He sits there saying 'I never was guilty and I cannot declare myself guilty.'

"He could have confessed years and years ago and got out. He came to me seven years ago even though I was persona non grata in Thailand and I'm credited with breaking Anglo-Thai relations for three years - though they do me too much honour - because of the girl's (Karen Smith's) case. I told him the quickest way of getting out was to plead guilty, get his sentence reduced, get expatriated and he'd be out quicker than anything else. He still said: 'No.' And that's been on offer for the last seven years. The Brits and the Thais have done this deal and they're all desperately trying to persuade him to take the easy way out and he won't. That's a disaster."

Despite the overbearing workload, you would imagine there would be other bodies similar to FTA.

"There is no other organisation like us in the world. There is no international organisation concerned with the rights of foreigners to criminal justice. For instance, Amnesty International looks after political prisoners of conscience - and they're all guilty - and we don't take on guilty people. It's a very different job.

"Where I see Fair Trials Abroad in five years time is this: We have achieved a state in Europe where we're not really required because they're getting fair trials in all the countries in Europe through fundamental rights protection and the sort of things we're all working on now. In a few years time, I hope to see the end of the road and concentrate on what happens outside Europe .

"So, I foresee us as actually fulfilling our role in about five years time instead of, many ways, putting our toes in the water because we lack the resources."

But, despite wanting to spend more time sailing his beloved 32ft long keeled cutter, based in Hampshire, he admits "I can't see myself ever totally dissociating myself from the organisation I founded."

Extreme Golfing
(BBC Television & Radio)

The seemingly leisurely game of golf is about to be made into one of the sporting world's most physically and mentally challenging. Two British men hope to raise up to £100,000 for a Thai orphanage by attempting something never done before. They are aiming to complete The Awesome Eight - playing non-stop and unsupported around the world's most remote and climatically extreme golf courses.

London businessmen Neil Laughton, who has climbed Mount Everest , and Robin Sieger , will be playing their 18-hole rounds at more than 14,000 feet above sea level, playing in more than six feet of snow and enduring temperatures of between -50C and +40C.

The Awesome Eight are:

Highest: Tuctu , Peru .
Lowest: Furnace Creek , California , USA .
Most Northerly: North Cape , Norway .
Most Southerly: Ushuaia , Argentina .
Hottest: Alice Springs , Australia .
Coldest: North Star , Alaska .
Toughest: Ko'olau, Hawaii .
Greatest: St.Andrews , Scotland .

The Courses

It was Robin, a passionate golfer, who came up with the idea. He started playing at the age of four after being encouraged by his father, a Scratch player, who took part in the British Amateur Championships. "My father always taught me to love, laugh and play golf - in that order," said Robin. By his own admission, he's "a Scratch player trapped in the body of a 12 handicapper!"

"I've always wanted to do something that would really inspire me and capture the imagination," he said. "This is the ultimate golfing challenge - extreme golf, you could say - where our skills and stamina will be tested to the utmost."

Both Neil, 37, and Robin, 45, are aiming to raise money for The Pattaya Orphanage Trust in Thailand . Founded in 1970, it tries to provides a home, residential care and access to education for 180 orphans, up to 100 street children, 220 socially disadvantaged deaf and blind children and 190 young people with other disabilities who would otherwise be at risk of sexual exploitation, child labour or condemned to a life of poverty and begging. The orphanage aims to help them develop into independent adults able to take their place in the world with confidence.

Twelve years ago, Robin started sponsoring a young girl at the orphanage after being moved by her plight and by those like her.

"I woke up with a hangover one morning and thought there's more to life than this. So, I decided to do something worthwhile," said Robin, a former stand-up comedian who used to write "those cheesy lines" for the contestants on ITV's Blind Date .

He raised £7,000 by running last year's New York Marathon. He later flew to Thailand to present them with the cheque. He hopes that this unique challenge will raise many more times that amount.

Neil Laughton, a former Royal Marine, is an experienced adventurer and sportsman who has taken part in exploratory expeditions all over the world. He led the British Mount Everest expeditions in 1996 and 1998, skied 100 miles to the North Pole in 1999 and completed the Seven Summits Challenge (climbing the highest mountain on each continent) in 2000. Last year, he led the first team to circumnavigate the UK by jetski. While on his travels, Neil, who plays off a 24 handicap, has teed off at the North Pole and from the summit of Africa's highest mountain, Mount Kilimanjaro .

"One of the most difficult games will be the one in Alaska . With such deep snow, the balls are likely to disappear with alarming ease. Even if we played with great care I think we'll each be lucky to get round 18 holes in less than 470 shots! It will be major bogey time. But that makes the challenge even more fun," said Neil.

Robin is a businessman and one of Europe 's leading motivational speakers. Despite having suffered from cancer, he is a dedicated extreme sportsman who has run several marathons and completed the infamous Tough Guy Challenge.

"Anyone can achieve personal feats of endurance which demonstrates that it's not just extraordinary people who do extraordinary things, but ordinary people who choose to prove the sceptics wrong by doing special things," said Robin.

"Neil climbed the highest mountain on each of the seven continents and this is my Seven Summits challenge which I hope will also inspire people and show that anything is possible."

The Awesome Eight courses:

The Highest: Tuctu Golf Club of Morococha , Peru , is 4,372 meters (14,335ft) above sea level. Due to the extreme altitude it will require the two men to spend a few days acclimatising before playing the course. They plan to reach 12,000 feet and rest for a day before increasing the altitude by 1,000 feet per day until basic acclimatisation has been achieved. One advantage is that, due to the high altitude and the thinner air, the balls will travel further.

The Lowest: At 214ft below sea level, Furnace Creek is the lowest golf course in the world. Each hole has its own special character, testing players at every level. Despite Death Valley 's legendary heat, an irrigation system has been designed to ensure year round greenery. The elevation of the course presents unique forces. Golfers have noticed a distinct difference in how the balls respond in relation to other courses at or above sea level. But, the denser air means the balls won't travel as far.

The Most Northerly: North Cape is located near Troms Ø , the most northern airport in Norway . The course will be played during the month of June under the midnight sun. Being only a 6-hole course, the shortest of all the entries, it will be played three times non-stop. Like other such extreme locations, where the wind chill factor can go down to -15C, the course is run by local enthusiasts who have all offered to support the attempt.

The Most Southerly: Ushuaia is a short, yet infamously difficult 9-hole links course situated on the Argentinean part of Tierra del Fuego ( Land of Fire ) close to glaciers. With Cape Horn nearby, players often have to battle with gale force winds and torrential rain.

The Hottest: Alice Springs is one of the world's hottest desert venues. The course has a unique charm blended with some subtle severity. Accuracy is a must for even the boldest hitters if they're to avoid the harsh Australian rough.

The Coldest: Located near Fairbanks , Alaska , the North Star course will be under deep snow (up to 6ft) which will require the use of snow shoes. Half the round will be played in very low light and the other half in darkness. Temperatures can get as low as -50C in December.

The oughest: When Ko'olau course opened in 1992, the United States Golf Association gave it a "slope" or difficulty rating of 152 from the gold tees. Another USGA handicap team has since rated it a staggering 162. An easy course, which is flat and has few obstacles, is rated at 100. Professional championship courses tend to be rated between 140-150 which are considered to be very difficult. With these there are lots of hazards and other challenges for even the most accomplished of golfers. But, Ko'olau is extreme. The Royal & Ancient Golf Club of Scotland, which dictates the rules for golf everywhere except the USA , rates Ko'olau as the toughest in the world.

The Greatest: Golf has been played on the Links at St.Andrews since the 1400's and is renowned throughout the world as the home of golf. It started off as one simple track hacked through the bushes and heather and now has six public golf courses. In 1754, the Royal & Ancient Golf Club was founded. It has become the foremost golf club in the world and now governs the rules of golf everywhere.