Chapter 2: Black Coffee

I suppose I started drinking coffee before the age of 5, coffee milk with my grandmother. For the next 42 years my coffee habits have changed radically.

This morning I made a pot of coffee on a camping stove in 28 degree weather, ça ces bon café.

When I reflect on how I started my mornings whether in the far east, the UK or at southernmost point of South America, I always start with a cup of coffee.

I remember my first offshore jobs, I would make coffee with lots of sugar & cream, mmmmm.

The older hands on the rig always drank it black, it took many years until I embraced black coffee.

Why coffee and not tea? I really think it comes down to a ritual. Over the years I have embraced the ritual of waking up to hot cup of coffee and planning out my day.

At my house I have lots of great tasting coffee. From beans that I roast myself to espresso and French press. This cup that I drink this morning from my camping coffee pot tastes better than a Starbucks.

I am staying in a cabin and have set up the kitchen in front. This is the second morning of the next 17 and I am loving every minute. I am getting paid to go camping and to build things in the middle of nowhere, so cool.

Maybe, just maybe this is where I am destined to be. Don’t get me wrong, coffee in the JW on Copacabana beach is pretty good, but coffee with my team is better.

The funny part of this adventure we call life is that we never know where it will take us. The way I approach it, is just the same. I start with a cup of black coffee and go from there.

Thank you for reading.