THE DOGS OF ABROAD
British thriller writer Frederick Forsyth on private jets, surviving long-haul flights and why one shouldn’t travel with gunrunners
HOW OFTEN DO YOU TRAVEL? Two or three times a year, with my wife, Sandy, in search of the sun, to Mauritius or the Caribbean. When I was researching my novels as a younger man, I’d travel all over the world. WHERE DID YOU GO ON HOLIDAY AS A CHILD? The first place I recall was Cornwall in 1947. I learnt to swim in a rock pool, with Dad frantically holding my chin up. We didn’t go away much because my parents ran a shop and the summer was their busiest time. YOUR FIRST FORAY ABROAD? In 1948 I caught the ferry to Calais and spent four weeks with a friend of my parents and his family. I did that for the next few summers, so by the age of 13 I was bilingual. It was like the France you see in Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday; they still pulled in the harvest with ox wagons. MOST ADVENTUROUS TRAVEL EXPERIENCE? Until I was 40, I worked too hard to go on holiday much. Then, on a stopover in Mauritius, I was given the chance to go game fishing and scuba diving. I was smitten by both and have been doing them ever since. AND THE MOST REMOTE PLACE YOU’VE BEEN? Mogadishu in Somalia, which I visited to research The Kill List. I hired a big, muscular bodyguard to help out should trouble arise — I was 74. We rented a Jeep and took three armed Ugandan soldiers for extra security. I found the place where Black Hawk had gone down, said a prayer for them and then got the hell out. YOUR MOST LUXURIOUS TRAVEL EXPERIENCE? Flying on a private jet from an airfield near London to Corfu. I’d been invited to a party there and was offered a free ride by another guest, a wealthy magnate with a private jet. We were nodded through security and then boarded the plane, where I was shown to a leather armchair and served champagne by a gorgeous young lady. Unfortunately, I had to get a commercial flight home. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE HOTEL? It’s a toss-up between the Mandarin Oriental in Miami, which boasts panoramic views of the surrounding area, and Le Saint Géran in Mauritius, where I can walk from my room across the lawn to the beach and take a dip in the sea. The bar, restaurant and diving dock are all easily walkable too. And it’s warm. What more could anyone ask for? YOUR WORST TRAVEL EXPERIENCE? Flying out with a gunrunner from Lisbon to what was then Portuguese Guinea [now Guinea-Bissau] and Biafra in a small aeroplane. I was sitting in the back when a bullet came straight up through the floor, between my parted legs and through the ceiling. That was pretty uncomfortable. BEST PIECE OF TRAVEL ADVICE? Travel light. I take one carry-on and one small wheelie suitcase. My wife’s quite the reverse. She takes half the kitchen sink. HOW DO YOU SURVIVE A LONG FLIGHT? I eat and drink everything they throw at me — and keep asking the cabin staff to replenish my glass of Bordeaux! While I don’t get much in the way of sleep, I always arrive fresh. I think the secret is that I read, and never watch the films. I don’t think looking at the screen does you any good. WHAT DO YOU HATE ABOUT HOLIDAYS? The whole airport departure business and being asked to half-strip at security. The old charm of flying, that sense of exotica, has gone. WHAT’S YOUR ONE TRAVEL ESSENTIAL? Books, mainly paperbacks (police procedurals and thrillers), because I can read ‘em and then toss ‘em. WHAT DO YOU NEED FOR THE PERFECT HOLIDAY? A small island somewhere warm with reef after reef after reef. I’m fascinated by the variety of marine life in a good coral reef. WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO NEXT? Ningaloo Reef, a huge underwater coral garden with an extraordinary variety of sea life, off Western Australia. — Interview by York Membery, © The Daily Telegraph