William and Harry (12 page)

He was, however, delighted to be setting off for Patagonia, where he would be taking part in environmental and community projects organised by Raleigh International. He had wanted to go somewhere hot, and while it was not the polo-playing adventure he had dreamed of, those ten weeks in Chile would be one of the most incredible experiences of William’s life so far. His fellow volunteers were from all walks of life and a world away from William’s sheltered upbringing at the palace. Some were reformed drug addicts while others had served time in prison. Whatever their backgrounds, their tasks were the same, and everyone was expected to get stuck in. There was to be no special treatment for William, and he raised £5,500 in sponsorship. ‘I organised a water polo match and got sponsors. I also raised money for a disadvantaged person to come on the expedition with me.’

On 1 October 2000 William boarded a British Airways plane from Gatwick to Santiago. Knowing there would be few luxuries in Patagonia, he happily accepted the offer of an upgrade to first class. He had deliberately chosen to fly out separately from his fellow volunteers to avoid the inevitable send-off by the world’s media, who had gathered at Heathrow hoping to wave the prince off. It was only when he was safely on the ground in Santiago that William met a handful of the hundred volunteers with whom he would be spending the next ten weeks. While William was sensibly dressed in the navy-blue Raleigh International fleece which was to become his second skin, Mark Dyer stood out like a sore thumb in a Savile Row suit. William was nervous as he chatted with the small group who had been selected to meet him in the VIP room, but having Ali G, his favourite comedian, on the television broke the ice.

William was immediately popular as for safety reasons the uncomfortable and dangerous two-day road trip to Coyhaique, Raleigh International’s headquarters, had been abandoned in favour of a flight to Balmaceda in a plane chartered by the Prince of Wales. Sandwiched between his protection officer and Dyer in the emergency exit seats, William fidgeted nervously during the three-hour flight over the Andes. Inside the terminal at Balmaceda, as he waited to collect his bags, which were covered in ‘Priority VIP’ labels, he pulled his baseball cap over his face. He was worried there would be press waiting for him outside but as he walked through the sliding doors, there was not a photographer in sight. The prince removed his cap and smiled at Dyer. It was his first moment of gap-year freedom.

When the group arrived at Coyhaique they were exhausted, but there was no time to rest; they had to acclimatise at Field Base, a tented camp surrounded by mountains and miles of barren countryside. The only clue that there was a VIP among the group was the four open-top military jeeps parked at the camp’s entrance. Up the hill there was a wooden shelter where foodstuffs and equipment were stored and another smaller outhouse where the group would eat. There was also a small kiosk that opened once a day, where William would buy packets of chocolate-chip cookies. They would be sleeping under canvas, and William, who had elected to share his tent with two girls, gallantly ran to bag the best pitch. The main house was not open to the volunteers, although William was allowed to make urgent calls home to England. For everyone else the solitary telephone box outside the main house sufficed. There was an outside wash-house with communal showers, but they would only have the
luxury of a hot shower once a month. The prince insisted on showering alone, even though this meant waiting until the end when most of the hot water had run out. On one occasion he left his Cartier watch in the shower cubicle and was inconsolable until it was found. It was not just that the watch was expensive; it had been given to him by his mother who had engraved William’s name on it and he was never without it.

Like everyone else William was expected to get involved in the ice-breaking games, although the name-learning exercise, which entailed every volunteer being carried without being dropped, was farcical. ‘Wills! Wills! Wills!’ the group shouted as they manhandled the future king to the end of the line. Then there were tests of physical endurance. William was told he had to carry his chosen partner from one end of the field to the other. As he watched his new friends struggle to carry each other across the camp, he invited his female companion to stand on his steel-capped boots, hold on tight and allow him to walk them both across the field. The idea caught on, and by the end of the exercise everyone was copying the resourceful royal.

Proving that he could swim ahead of the fortnight of sea kayaking was never going to be a problem. What William hadn’t counted on, however, was the group of photographers that suddenly appeared out of nowhere as he made his way to the lake where they were to be assessed. He had only known his fellow volunteers for a matter of days, but they immediately surrounded him so that not even the longest lens could catch a glimpse. That single action immediately earned the prince’s trust. They may not have had much in common, but if these boys and girls could demonstrate such loyalty before the end of the first
week, William was more than happy to give everyone a chance. Eventually the photographers gave up and the prince was free to strip off and dive into the lake, where he effortlessly completed the required 500-metre swimming test. William had been looking forward to the kayaking, the first part of the expedition, and had read up on the dramatic Patagonian coastline.

The group would be living in total isolation and camping in the wild. They had come well prepared and carried all the equipment they would need. The first week tested everyone’s resolve, and at one point William, like the others, just wanted to come home. The weather had closed in and it rained for days. They tried their hardest to entertain themselves, but their spirits flagged and William spent most of his time in his tent. ‘The wind whipped up into a storm. The tents were flapping so violently that we thought they were going to blow away,’ he said afterwards. ‘Everything was soaked through. I had never seen rain like it. It was so heavy and it just did not stop. It was quite demoralising even though we managed to keep ourselves going by singing and stuff like that. I don’t think I have ever been as low as that. Everyone was thinking, why did I choose to come here?’

During those rain-soaked days he lay in his tent reading the bestseller
Bravo Two Zero
, about an SAS mission in Iraq during the First Gulf War, and listening to his portable CD player. His cousin Zara had recorded him a compilation which kicked off with Manu Chao’s ‘Bongo Bong’, which always made him smile. He became a diligent letter writer and would spend hours writing to his family, especially the Queen, whose letters would always begin, ‘Dearest Grandmama’. When William came across a fisher -man at one of the deep ocean fjords, he would use his best
GCSE Spanish to ask if they could post the letters for him. He would provide enough money for a postage stamp and the fisher -man’s trouble, and with every faith in the locals handed over his most private correspondence. He could only hope that the letters would make it back home, and miraculously they all did.

William, who was meticulous about making sure his rucksack was always carefully packed and knew where everything was stored, even in the middle of the night, discovered the best way to keep dry and warm was to wear a pair of socks with his sandals. It looked ridiculous, but everyone followed suit. His supply of chocolate-chip cookies also lifted everyone’s mood even if it meant piling on a few extra pounds. ‘We felt very fat,’ he recalled. For the prince, who starts every morning with a short exercise routine, it was a relief when the clouds cleared and made way for blue skies. With the weather much improved, he began his routine with a brief yoga session. William knew some positions from his mother, who practised yoga regularly at Kensington Palace, and his father, who used to train with yoga guru Dr Masaraf Ali. William believes yoga is excellent for the mind and body and still practises today when he has time. Before breakfast, which was always the same lumpy grey porridge cooked over the camp stove, William would teach some of the group how to hold certain positions.

‘William would be on his ground mat in his thermal longjohns every morning,’ one of the group recalled.

Having their muscles manipulated by the future king proved too much for some of the girls, who descended into fits of giggles.

At the end of the first month it was time for William and his group to spend three weeks tracking and monitoring huemul, an indigenous species of deer that roam the plains of Patagonia. One of their jobs was to shoot the deer with tranquiliser darts and tag them to monitor the population. Trained by the best guns at Balmoral, William was an excellent shot and the best tagger in the group. The rolling hills and expansive scenery, he observed, were not dissimilar to the Scottish Highlands. He was at peace in the beautiful countryside, truly happy and relaxed. For the first and only time in his life he removed the electronic tag around his neck. Surrounded by the snow-capped mountains and with only the huemul for company, there was simply no need for it. William took great delight in ripping it off.

That same night it was bitterly cold, and as the group sat together on the side of a mountain, huddled around the campfire, arms linked for extra warmth, the conversation turned to William. The others had spent the past hour discussing what they planned to do when they returned home. Some had places at universities, others had further adventures to look forward to. William quietly listened to their excited chatter. ‘You’re all so
lucky,’ he said as the flames flickered across his face. ‘I don’t have much choice about my future. One day I will be king, and to be honest I’m not much interested in that at all at the moment.’

Silence enveloped the group and the only sound to fill the chilly air was the crackling of the fire. No one quite knew what to say. They all knew who he was, but to them he was just William. In the breathtakingly beautiful mountains of Chile he had had many hours to contemplate his fate and future, and it had dawned on him that this was as normal as his life would ever be. He was on a gap year with a group of people he would never ordinarily have met, in the middle of nowhere, with no sense of commitment or responsibility. ‘William just came out with it. There were only a few of us there, and we were all quite shocked,’ recalled a fellow volunteer. ‘I remember feeling desperately sorry for him. He was a big strapping boy, but he suddenly seemed so vulnerable. We had all formed a very close bond and he obviously felt as though he could open up. I think he saw his future as a huge burden. He knows what his life will be one day and that his freedom would be short-lived.’

For his whole life William had done everything in his power to be ordinary, and was not yet ready for the spotlight. He had had a taste of it in Canada the March after Diana’s death, when Charles had taken him and Harry away for a holiday which had also included a few public engagements. The young prince had been met by screaming teenage girls, and while Harry had laughed at his brother’s newfound status as a royal heart-throb, William had flown into a rage and vowed never to go on a walk-about again. Of course, he was young and at a difficult age, but ‘Wills mania’, as it was referred to in the press, had terrified him,
and when he turned eighteen he announced he had no intention of taking on public engagements. ‘My father wants me to finish full-time education before doing royal duties and so do I. It will be a few years before I do royal engagements, although I expect, as in the past, I will sometimes accompany my father.’

Right now he wanted to be known simply as William, and like his mother he had his own ideas when it came to protocol. Those who know him well say fear of the future is why William lives for the present. He himself admits that he prefers to take one day at a time rather than worry about what the future holds. ‘The biggest things he has to deal with are his past and his future,’ one of his closest friends explained. ‘That’s why he enjoys the present so much. He makes an effort to enjoy every day to the full.’ Years later, when he turned twenty-one, William acknowledged for the first time in his life the responsibility of his birthright. ‘It’s not a question of wanting to be; it’s something I was born into, and it’s my duty … Sometimes I do get anxious about it, but I don’t really worry a lot.’

William sat on the steps outside the only supermarket in Coyhaique basking in the late-morning sunshine, enjoying the treat which he had promised himself once he had finished his back-breaking task building wooden walkways in the small unspoilt coastal town of Tortel in the heart of Patagonia. The rotisserie chicken smelled delicious, and William tore off chunks of flesh and ate them hungrily – it had been weeks since he had eaten meat, he had been surviving on biscuits, tinned tuna, beans and rice. The hard work was finally out of the way and William was looking forward to going home. He had spent the past month sleeping on the floor of a disused nursery which the volunteers
had nicknamed the Hotel Tortel. It was basic, but far more comfortable than a cold and damp ground-mat.

It was the penultimate day of the expedition and everyone was in a good mood. William had made a trip to the store to stock up on some snacks for the party being held at the camp that night. The Raleigh International team leaders had planned a fancy-dress bash, and always the first to dive into the dressing-up cupboard, William had already planned his outfit. Before he left he wanted to sample a local bar and had arranged for his protection officer, SAS-trained Dominic Ryan, to drive him and six of his friends to the outskirts of the town later that day. They settled for a run-down bar, where they ordered litres of cheap red wine and lager on tap.