Lost On Earth - published by Pan Macmillan - Available 2009- to order book click here
Based on a solo two year journey over land and sea from Australia to the Arctic Circle
view photos - diary - video - map
“The only way I am coming home is by bike or by box.” This is the first line I had written in a notebook I had designated for this journey, and as soon as I wrote it I had decided this was to be a trip from which I would never return the same. The fundamental philosophy of my trip was to turn a dream into reality and that is exactly what happened.
Since I was a kid I have been addicted to National Geographic magazines and the Guinness Book of Records. As a compulsive dreamer, the ideas that I spawned had me exploring the most remote and unimaginable parts of the world, and all I desired was to make them happen. It was a time in which I was held captive by maps, awe struck by the winding track of a river through the dense jungle, and inspired by the thought of watching a saffron red sunset on a palm-lined beach which I had never seen, but I was sure must exist. By the age of 17 my life was spent pursuing adventure, in whatever form I could find, from joining the Circus and cruising around Australia, to floating down the Amazon River in a leaky, homemade canoe. These initial journeys taught me that the road less traveled hid landmines of experience and pleasure, all of which needed to be soaked up before we propelled ourselves off the face of the earth.
A few years ago one of my most amiable and inspired friends unexpectedly, jumped from a cliff on one of our camping trips. He was a bohemian traveler and the ultimate of all dreamers. His death created a primordial shift in my perception and direction; it was the manner in which he lived his life that made me challenge how I was to live mine. I was going to squeeze the soul out of it.
It was the untrammeled dirt roads that drew me, the emptiness, the allure of unknown destinations. A scene, which offered ever-changing possibilities rumbled like a field of fleeting monkeys through my mind. The idea of seeing the world unroll before me grew in my conscience until I could feel the vibrations of a lonely deserted road and the wind blasting against my sun stained arms, like a contemporary Don Quixote, the contents of my life packed upon my metal steed. My plan became to travel around the World by motorbike and by boat, through as many countries as possible, conquering the seven natural wonders of the world and licking every scrap of fun straight from the gutter. I had my knight’s quest. Except, I had an engine and rubber.
Throughout the trip, various characters shared their visions with me, fed me, put a roof over my malnourished head, slapped me around, and chased me out of town, when I needed it. A Dutch Headhunter on business in Ecuador shared his soul, the former Panamanian President lit my path in the Caribbean, and the street kids in every country taught me how to overcome adversity in exchange for a breath of fresh air and a good meal. My trip comprised of making and breaking unimaginable friendships. As with every journey, it is the people that you share your days with that make the trip.
The battle between quality of life, love and loneliness took its toll each day. I eventually gave away or broke everything I owned, finding solace in my Spartan surroundings, happier to have a laugh and share stories in a world with so little. I started to welcome discomfort and misfortune, assured that I would return wiser and less vulnerable to the elements that surrounded me. The spirit of adventure had taken over my soul. I would die a happy man - because I have lived each day like it was my last.
Starving and dehydrating in the Las Pampa Desert; waking up behind the iron bars of Tierra Del Fuego; traversing the length of the Amazon with a 260kg motorcycle in tow; evading pumas in Guyana; skimming across the Caribbean on a drug smuggling yacht; dodging bullets in Nicaragua and finally paddling a few laps in the Arctic Ocean; these were a few of the moments which made up my adventure. Each day was a new page in an entirely different book.
After 21 life-changing months, 26 countries, 90,000kms (over 60 boats), four engine rebuilds, countless accidents, diseases and near death, I had finished the first leg of this trip, from Australia to the Arctic Circle and returned home with a mind, and body no longer fit for the rat race. The world is shrinking and track marks on the surface have swallowed my soul. I have become a part of the road and there is no longer anything which can separate me from my home, regardless of which side of the road I find myself on.
Based on a solo two year journey over land and sea from Australia to the Arctic Circle
view photos - diary - video - map
“The only way I am coming home is by bike or by box.” This is the first line I had written in a notebook I had designated for this journey, and as soon as I wrote it I had decided this was to be a trip from which I would never return the same. The fundamental philosophy of my trip was to turn a dream into reality and that is exactly what happened.
Since I was a kid I have been addicted to National Geographic magazines and the Guinness Book of Records. As a compulsive dreamer, the ideas that I spawned had me exploring the most remote and unimaginable parts of the world, and all I desired was to make them happen. It was a time in which I was held captive by maps, awe struck by the winding track of a river through the dense jungle, and inspired by the thought of watching a saffron red sunset on a palm-lined beach which I had never seen, but I was sure must exist. By the age of 17 my life was spent pursuing adventure, in whatever form I could find, from joining the Circus and cruising around Australia, to floating down the Amazon River in a leaky, homemade canoe. These initial journeys taught me that the road less traveled hid landmines of experience and pleasure, all of which needed to be soaked up before we propelled ourselves off the face of the earth.
A few years ago one of my most amiable and inspired friends unexpectedly, jumped from a cliff on one of our camping trips. He was a bohemian traveler and the ultimate of all dreamers. His death created a primordial shift in my perception and direction; it was the manner in which he lived his life that made me challenge how I was to live mine. I was going to squeeze the soul out of it.
It was the untrammeled dirt roads that drew me, the emptiness, the allure of unknown destinations. A scene, which offered ever-changing possibilities rumbled like a field of fleeting monkeys through my mind. The idea of seeing the world unroll before me grew in my conscience until I could feel the vibrations of a lonely deserted road and the wind blasting against my sun stained arms, like a contemporary Don Quixote, the contents of my life packed upon my metal steed. My plan became to travel around the World by motorbike and by boat, through as many countries as possible, conquering the seven natural wonders of the world and licking every scrap of fun straight from the gutter. I had my knight’s quest. Except, I had an engine and rubber.
Throughout the trip, various characters shared their visions with me, fed me, put a roof over my malnourished head, slapped me around, and chased me out of town, when I needed it. A Dutch Headhunter on business in Ecuador shared his soul, the former Panamanian President lit my path in the Caribbean, and the street kids in every country taught me how to overcome adversity in exchange for a breath of fresh air and a good meal. My trip comprised of making and breaking unimaginable friendships. As with every journey, it is the people that you share your days with that make the trip.
The battle between quality of life, love and loneliness took its toll each day. I eventually gave away or broke everything I owned, finding solace in my Spartan surroundings, happier to have a laugh and share stories in a world with so little. I started to welcome discomfort and misfortune, assured that I would return wiser and less vulnerable to the elements that surrounded me. The spirit of adventure had taken over my soul. I would die a happy man - because I have lived each day like it was my last.
Starving and dehydrating in the Las Pampa Desert; waking up behind the iron bars of Tierra Del Fuego; traversing the length of the Amazon with a 260kg motorcycle in tow; evading pumas in Guyana; skimming across the Caribbean on a drug smuggling yacht; dodging bullets in Nicaragua and finally paddling a few laps in the Arctic Ocean; these were a few of the moments which made up my adventure. Each day was a new page in an entirely different book.
After 21 life-changing months, 26 countries, 90,000kms (over 60 boats), four engine rebuilds, countless accidents, diseases and near death, I had finished the first leg of this trip, from Australia to the Arctic Circle and returned home with a mind, and body no longer fit for the rat race. The world is shrinking and track marks on the surface have swallowed my soul. I have become a part of the road and there is no longer anything which can separate me from my home, regardless of which side of the road I find myself on.
