Sydney, Australia
12th September 2005



Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

Working the home straight. After almost two years on the road the time has come to return Miss Humpalot to her stables for retirement (special thanks to Carter Motorsports for the crate effort. ha!). My remaining worldly possessions anxiously await the flight home, freaking out about how they will adapt to life in a cupboard for four months, whilst I stare out the window as the sun rises over the Australian east coast. Pondering re-entry into mainstream society.

After 21months, 26 countries, 90,000kms by land and sea (over 60 boats), four engine rebuilds (Bolivian Andes, Venezuelan Island, Mexico City, Vancouver, Canada), countless punctures, four natural wonders, Guardia, dysentery, amoebas, parasites, starvation, near death, the destruction of almost everything I own, and some seriously life changing experiences I am returning home for a brief rendezvous with normal life to ensure my sanity stays intact and wait for Siberia to melt.

My hammered little Mac is bursting with almost 6000 photos, video and lotsa crazy stories. I have recorded as many moments as humanly possible with which to showcase some seriously bizarre situations that have rolled over me.

Various moments shine through the cerebrum; starving and dehydrating to death in Las Pampa's, Argentina with the Bogman; waking up behind the iron bars in Tierra Del Fuego near Antarctica, traversing the full length of the Amazon with a 260kg motorcycle in tow, skimming across the Caribbean from Colombia to Panama on a drug/person smuggling yacht, meeting the president of Panama and his next door neighbour, and finally making it to the Artic Circle, completing my tour of the America's once and for all.

I would die a happy man if I tripped over my shoelaces and got my head squashed by a bus tomorrow, or even this afternoon. But as with everything, you just want more. I can't stop thinking about life on the road. Somewhere I now call home. The last frontiers like Siberia attract me like a Google attracts money. Alot.

I am on a mission to secure myself a new motorcycle, funds to carry me from Siberia to the Sahara and raise money for the prevention of Youth Suicide and Depression. In two years I have learned more than twenty years in a university. To be fair 20yrs at university I would probably learn alot, but it would boring. The roads less traveled hide landmines of experience and pleasure. They need to be soaked up before we propel ourselves off the face of the earth.

Over the next few months I will be giving presentations of the adventure thus far to anyone on earth. So Mr Gates, Mr Branson? If you want me to do a presentation for you, send the jet and I'm yours. To arrange a presentation click here..

A special thanks to all the people who have visited the site, sent inspiring and motivating emails, fed me, pulled a roof over my malnourished scalp, slapped me around, chased me out of town, given me the wrong directions, put crap fuel in my bike and sent a sparkling smile my way. You have all made my life all the more satisfying and for that I have learnt to appreciate every little thing that has come my way.

AN EXTRA SPECIAL THANKYOU TO ALL MY SPONSORS WHO ACTUALLY MADE THIS POSSIBLE!

Alaskan Fjords, Alaska, USA
4th September 2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

A giant male moose meanders moose style over the rising river slurping broadside Haines Road into Lynn Canal and the Pacific Ocean. Ice cream slathers over the hills beyond. That white foggy stuff is fairy floss. This is where fairy floss comes from.

Cruising along the highway in negative degrees. I was cold as F$%k which is the norm in this far northern Yukon community. Holding off camp until the last possible moment. Wondering what's going to happen when I stop. Wondering if any coincidences are going to come my way. Or just happen. They never cease to happen. I try to keep focus on nothing happening. Expecting nothing.

I pass a nice campsite, but there is still a little sun shining. Wish I stopped now. I keep on pumping Miss Humpalot along the broken highway. Suddenly something at the back of my head tips the scale. I have been riding since 9am. A solid 14 hour day. Same as almost every single day for the last few months. The cold has weaved its way through the lining of my gloves and sourced the only few broken spaces between my legs where the crotch of my pants had ripped in two over a year ago. Jousting my testicles into my stomach lining. Icy cold working its way through my motorcross boots which I had previously thought impossible. I try to control my breathing to keep the cold from shivering me to death. An every night event for the last few weeks. Reality.

The last rays of sun are splashing my shadow across the pine line passing my left. The snowcapped mountains to my right are dripping with winter. Snow building so high it eventually blocks out the sun. The smoke and snow filled clouds cover every avenue. There is one road. Going forward and one going back. I never go back. Its boring looking at your behind (and it hurts your neck).

A small gas station looms to the right. I quiz the location of any other stations further ahead. Supposably there are a few. I keep on trucking.

40minutes later I arrive to the dim lights of Kluane Wilderness Village. Wander in the the door. Body frozen. Mind intact. I question the cost of a room. Thinking after 95% of the last few months camping a room would be good. $50.

Camping it is. He mentions with a smile that camping is free for motorcyclists. Word. I stuff down two pieces of banana cake lying on the bench (Haven’t eaten for a while), and wander in to the toilets where I set up camp on the toilet seat. So warm in here. I finish my business, spending five minutes washing my hands under the lukewarm water revitalizing my veins.

As I open the door Bill the night watchman suspiciously wanders in. Wondering what the hell I am still doing in the toilet. Savouring the warmth, and admiring the light - I lost my torch. We strike up a conversation.11:30pm. I borrow a DVD from his personal collection of one, and sit down in the shop front watching a movie on poker.

In between scenes we chat about life, history, Bills love of the Yukon, his first and last accidental child. Deep discussions on the history of Easter Island. I give him a presentation of my photos. We talk some more. I finish the DVD, we start talking about astronomy and polish off a last cigarette. Its 2:30am. I haven’t eaten or slept in a while. My skin is hot and my senses are falling all over each other. I sign out and off to bed. En route I envision a giant grizzly bear waiting for me.. I skitter across the track and commando roll straight into my tent, passing out in a blissful sleep).

Woke up at 11am, rolled out of bed, slipped on my flip flops and pitter-pattered towards the gas station/cafe/motel/RV/Camping storefront and fell down into a seat for breakfast.

“Are you the guy camping with the motorbike?” Questioned Pierre the French-Canadian chef.
“Ah, Yep. That’s me.” I say with a puffy faced, stinky breathing, rancid toothed, dreaklock haired, morning smile.
“His breakfast is on Bill. This guys breakfast is on Bills account. What do you want to eat?”
What a way to wake up.

So I left my middle of nowhere hang spot with Old Bill at about 3:30pm. Heading for Haines Intersection and Lighthorse with no particular thought in mind. Before I set off I checked the oil. 1.5 litres had burnt away. There is still something wrong with the engine and I really don’t know what. All I can say is that it is dead. That’s the best answer I can give. I have ridden about 8000kms since the last rebuild in Vancouver so in reality considering my seriously anal zen maintenance it should be fine for at least another 40,000kms. But it ain’t. F$%k knows why.

Stunning beauty and biting cold. So cold. I don’t know if my bike is going to make it. I try to keep the speed under 110kmph. I don’t really know how fast I am going as my speedo han’t worked since I rode out of the workshop in Mexico City. But I am guessing around 110kmph. I power on. Just keep on going.. I made it to Haines Junction around 5pm and pull into the tourist centre.

(Keep in mind this day is Sunday)
What time does the next boat go for Vancouver(Canada)?
No boats for Vancouver.
Boats for Bellingham (US)?
None till Wednesday.
Boats for Prince Rupert (Canada)?
N ot till Thursday.
F$%k.

I gotta ride the whole way. My bike ain't gunna.. Hang on.. she says, there is a boat leaving tonight at 9:15pm.

I grin and bare it (my teeth). Fate always works its mysterious ways. Its 265kms away. I still haven’t eaten and I need to get there in two hours and 15 minutes to confirm my ticket. This means fast feed and 110kmsph for 260kms without a break to get there on time. $401 ticket for 1500kms of break time. Done. I call. Its confirmed. I eat and burn.

It starts to rain and there is black ice on the road. Have to stay at 110kmph. If I slow down I will miss the boat. If I go too fast I will burn too much oil. I can’t afford to burn oil. I don't have any more. I currently have fully synthetic oil. If I have to add more oil I won’t be able to buy it here which means I will need to use natural which means I will need to change my oil filter of which I do not have a spare. I will be stuck. I ride.

Glaciers surround my vision. Hunters perch themselves roadside hunting for bears, caribou and moose and anything that moves. Miss Humpalot chugs. Its too cold. I try to control my breathing to stop teeth from chattering to each other. The rain sets in. The road is like an ice skating rink. If I miss this boat I have to ride all the way back up this road as there is no through road. One way. No turning back. I arrive at the summit of Haines Highway.

Have to get blood pumping. I jump off the bike and star jump my way around it to the entertainment of a passer by, sniggering in a car. I punch invisible demons in the air. I do anything to stay warm. I jump back on the bike (literally).

It doesn’t start. Crap. I try again. No glow. One more time. It starts. I tear along. I slip through customs. The rain eases off. I start to dry out. The altitude drops. I am no longer shivering. I get to the bottom. 15miles to go. A huge river bellows to my right. A giant male moose mooses around the shoreline. I leap off the bike for a photo (above). The sun has nestled into the mountains. I keep on riding. I almost get wiped out by two more moose skittering across my path and keep on riding..

I made it to the dock at 8:15pm. They let me in. I buy my ticket. Someone parked behind me offers half a pizza. I stuff it down like a pelican and burn back to the general store at 8:45pm on Sunday night long weekend. They are open for another 15minutes. I buy supplies. I slip out and up to the drug store and buy a bottle of whiskey (warms the soul). I make it back to the dock as they are unloading the boat. I ride on and set up my bedroll under the heat lamp and pass out.

I wake up in a sweat.. the heat lamps do their job. I waddle around the boat, watch a movie or two and pass out for three hours.

I wake up. A giant pod of hump back whales are playing around the boat. A family of Orcas’s (killer whales) splash in the distance. An old church rests on a fjorded rock. A fishing boat passes every few hours. Two cruise ships maneuvered across the foggy distance. Glaciers slide their way around the mountains surrounding us. Pine forests and desolate islands pave every horizon. The clouds pave the sky. I completed a fitness session.

I slip downstairs to watch a movie. My new buddy Richard Branson (he insists he's not but I know its him) and I strike up a conversation. Yet again about life, love, future. Always the same. I love it. He used to manage airline hosts/hostesses. He just retired at 60yrs and has spent the last few months riding around Alaska on a bicycle. We talk about his kids. We talk about my life and his. He tells me of various stories regarding Africans smuggling themselves in the undercarriage of airplanes and plopping out hours later as an ice block , young Arabians writing bomb threats on the bathroom window of the aircraft and fellow workers accidentally smuggling hashish through airports.

My head hurts. No wonder. Its 2am and I am due to ride off the boat in a few hours. My Ipod is still backing up my photos which at the moment are my life. So I have to wait. It says there are 12 minutes remaining. My head hurts. Time to stop typing. So tired.

I am slumped back in my chair. Arse resting on the very edge of my vision. Canned pea and ham soup chilling out in my stomach along with moldy Alaska import bread which tasted like dogshit. I think I am dehydrated. My intenstines are regurgitating and rejecting everything I consume. I can’t wait to be well again. I can't wait to have enough money for three meals a day.

Really big glacier, Alaska, USA
26th August 2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

Silent Bob (Jay was playing a gig with Corey Feldman for the soundtrack of Clerks 3). was protecting his plantation. Turn around say nothing. I'll find you if you do. Ok. I turned around, said nothing and continued on my way.

Arrived into Seward, (Alaska) at 7:15pm. Left Anchorage about 4:45pm. The plan is to jump a boat, any boat for anywhere closer to Vancouver than here. Arseville.

Bike is burning oil. Rode to the end of town and out onto final dirt road hugging the waters edge. Stopped to admire the seals tearing five foot salmon in two on the waters edge. Tried to snap a photo but my batteries had run out. Oil level sunk fast. Bike won’t start. Sit on the side of the road and pretend I am enjoying the view.

About seven people drive past pretending that I am just some guy sitting on the side of the road enjoying the view.

Stuck on a motorcycle in Seward, Alaska with ten days to get to Vancouver (3,500kms) and no fishing boat in sight.

Crucial moments. Have to find a boat before sundown.

Bike wont start. I tried a wheely roll start to no avail. I bashed the back of my leg on the front left side of the pannier at least four times. Blood. I started walking the bike along waters edge and back to town.

A guy stopped ahead and reversed back to see if I needed help. I thought a decent roll start would do the trick. Within seconds he charged the back of the bike (must have been a gridiron player in his youth), and I rolled to a start and wavered away.

Rolled in to camp about 10:30pm. Set up tent and fell in.

I seem to have lost my torch, leatherman and one lock of my Pelicase (which holds all my computer gear). I still have a lighter. I have been using my survival knife to crack open food tins. Got it down to 15 seconds can.

Starving for some water. Drank barely anything except breakfast cereal and crap steak on toast with dab of deb mashed potato and a beer. And another beer. And a third. All part of the fishing boat investigation process. Fishermen won't trust you if you don't drink beer. Also wore my "Rather be Huntin'" cap. Part of the blending process.

Left the tent looking for water. Started talking to an elderly Belgian couple camped next door on a three week holiday (they lived in Venezuela about 30yrs ago). They gave me a bottle of water. I was going to hang a dysenteric amoeba shit, but decided instead to pass out. Pondered all the amazing moments of the last six days with lovely Miss H.

Next morning I cruised around Seward looking for a boat heading south towards Prince Rupert or Vancouver or Seattle of somewhere down there. I woke up about 9am, packed up camp and headed out to continue research. The camping guy did not arrive early enough so I got a free nights camping. Schweet.

Time for a oil change. Cruising through three different stores (the only three stores that sell oil in this town) and found some 15-50 synthetic. It will have to do. I stuffed down some muesli and yogurt for $2 instead of $6 thanks to an Aussie girl who worked in local store, crossed the road and wrote a few emails on a wireless network that hovers out the front of the Harbourmasters office which the nice Harbourmaster lady told me about.

An old fisherman strummed away on his guitar singing Seward inspired melodies to the sun shining down on a thirty something hairy pitted hippy chick sitting on the chair next. I sucked down my drink and one of her cigarettes which she kindly offered, climbed onto the bike, filled my tank and pulled off the road to change my oil in the blaring sun.

I checked my air filter. Clogged with dirt/ oil and a little water. I only just bought it Vancouver (7000kms back). I finished changing the oil and putted up towards a garage to check my tyre pressure, clean out my air filter as much as possible, and wash down my air cooled engine so it wouldn’t overheat as it has a tendency to do. F$%king bike. Currently working on 13/14kms per litre. Should be close to 17km per litre.

With the New Orleans flood catastrophe at full pelt all the fuel has jumped to over $US3 a gallon. This trip is ripping the life out of my raging rectum. Speaking of arseholes, my arsehole is back and badder than ever. I have the baddest arse in town. I spent $35 on super strong medication and did not drink for seven days so I could finally rid myself of this Guardia/dysenteric amoeba’s or whatever the hell is swimming through my intestines.. And now its back in town. I have some rebellious feces in my shorts and they weren’t invited. Burping and farting all day. Reeking rectum. So bad, that more often than not people are forced to fold conversations in two when I let one rip and roll their separate ways.

I finished around 3pm. Not a boat in sight. My extensive research has seen me pass in and out of at least 50% of all businesses in this little town. On six separate instances I have had people come up and ask me if I have found a boat yet. Nice people. One of the bar ladies was telling me that almost every single person here is running from something, starting a new life. Everyone has a story to tell. Not that that has much to do with anything but I thought I would put it down anyway.

I tore up the Alaskan highway heading north for Anchorage, stopping a little short for a feed at the hands of a middle aged Yugoslavian lady who thought I was Russian. I was greatly impressed. Good news for me. Looking Russian, always pays to blend into the background of any country you travel to. She also showed me her biceps and six pack and invited me to stay for some relaxation. Weird. But very nice lady. Full stomach move on.

I rode and rode and rode as you do. And then I rode some more. I passed Anchorage and headed east towards Tok. Same deal. Ride till you can’t ride no more. Ponds, rivers, streams, lakes, mountains, swans, squirrels and snow clouds. Winter is right on my arse. Its always either monsoon season or winter that is on my arse. All the other seasons are inside my arse.

New Orleans is dead. Thousands of people dead from Hurricane Katrina. People are complaining about the slow removal of bodies. There are bodies lying sprawled on the streets. Mostly the elderly, weak and the young. Mental hospitals and hospices abandoned. Search and Rescue personal arrive to find half of them dead. The rest almost dead. People are dying of heat exhaustion, dehydration and starvation. Pregnant mothers and small babies being airlifted through their axed rooftops. Thousands of people stuck in an Astrodome. People getting raped, robbed and murdered. Gangs wielding fully automatic guns and sniper rifles taking potshots at rescue helicopters and police officers. Who in turn are turning suicidal and crazed. Four days with no sleep. A Canadian tourist asked a policeman for help and he replied.

”Go f$%k yourself lady, its every man for himself.” Over 80% of the 500,000 population has been abandoned. The world is changing and no single person can stop it. U.S.A., A-OK.

..So anyway's, I kept on riding until the moon came out then pulled into a glacial park to take shelter from the cold. Which is when I met the two hammered hooligans (Jay and Silent Bob) who sauntered/stumbled up to me to enquire where I was from. We struck up a conversation that moved to their campfire. I set up camp and we sucked down some more beers and the rest of my whisky, yet again part of the blending in process. If I didn't drink they might turn on me.

My final comment I think threatened my new friend. I told him I was going to pull out a burning log and smack him across the arse with it until strips of flesh welded onto the wood, then I was going to roast it over the fire and eat it. I have always wondered what a human would taste like. That ended that conversation.

Woke up next to Jay and Silent Bob, a 4WD, two ATV’s, a motorbike and a giant .42 smith and western next to a huge shrinking glacier. Cooked up some corn and hot cup of Colombian coffee had a game of Russian Roul(fool)ette, snapped a few photos and headed on my way.

Secret Location, Alaska, USA
26th August 2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

The super spectacular Miss Hayley flew all the way from London to Alaska to meet me for five days. A very amazing young lady who has gripped my waist through some of the hardest terrains in South and Central America. And she's dangerously sexy too. Respect to you ma lovely. Seen here throwing a rope at me.

I left Prudhoe bay yesterday. Twas an awesome event. Chatted to ma man Jerry, chilled with Miss Chefmeister and the Front desk Mistress before cruising outside to pack the bike. Wouldn’t start. Another mate Mr Fixit from Prudhoe Bay hotel and wife of the fine lady working at Caribou Inn suddenly sprung out of no-where.

“Need a jump start?” Funny that. Yes.

Rode across to the Caribou Inn. Got my knife back. The girl on night shift had it in her room. She was hoping I would drop into her room to pick it up. What is with these people? They all seem to be starving for some good good lovin. They all got battery packs of love with no-one to give it to. Tis a dangerous place.

I fueled up next a mammothesque Caterpillar dozer.

My trucker buddies offered to illegally strap me to their truck for the run back to Fairbanks (700kms), where I could chill in the back seat, watch DVD's and swap stories. I have always wanted to hitch a ride with a truck, but then again, felt like I would be cheating my ride Miss Humpalot, So I nosed my way towards the road.

Flew. Flew… Squaaaarrrk. Squaaaaaaark… (that’s my bike imitating a bird). So beautiful. Tearing into the horizon. It splits right in front of me.

Bike burning like an oil refinery.

Good vibes rolling all around the place. Conquered the first leg of my little dream. Tierra Del Fuego, Argentina to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska (Antarctic to Arctic by motorbike and boat). Only took me two years. I managed to visit four of the worlds seven natural wonders, penetrate every single country in the Americas and cross the continent nine times, so I guess no room for complaint. Only three natural wonders and the rest of the world to go.

I made it back to Coldfoot for a stone skimming and fire shimmying with Star and the local village crew on a typical Saturday night in the middle of Nowheresville. A chilled affair.

My heart was rampaging towards an impending Hayley flying all the way from London town to meet me in Alaska for five days and then fly all the way back to London town. That's what good loving is all about eh?

The lovely H arrived.

Cruised 190kms north to Trapper Creek then a little further on the Gate Creek Cabins. It rained for half the way. The feeling rising through me were gooduns. Feel the vibes baby. Arrived to awesome cabin and stayed inside for the majority of our four nights there. As per these times are secret squirrel. Still had my beard. Until Hayley made me shave it off. To think I thought she would find it sexy. Sniff.

Hayley missed her plane due to my bikes compulsive habit of spacking out. We spent our final goodbyes floating with the boat planes across from the airport before, for a third time running Hayley flew into the sunset. Never knowing if we are ever going to see each other again. Life on the road, lacks one very important thing, Love. So its always sad when love flies away.

Next day I spun my way to Seward, a few hundred km's south of Anchorage. Intent on hitching a ride to Vancouver on a fishing vessel finishing off a summer season stalking Halibut and Salmon.

Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, USA
19th August 2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

Miss Humpalot and I had passed into the Arctic Circle. Annual summer fires blistered the horizon with smoke. The silhouette was good enough. 300kms until the northern most point was reached.

Dawson City, Yukon, Canada
15th August 2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

En route from Vancouver to Prudhoe Bay I pulled off the road, passing out from my miniscule meals. US Army Survival Manual reckons bugs are high in protein. So I scraped about 200grams of butterflys, dragonflys, mosquitos, moths, etc from my screen, barkbusters, tank, forks, indicators, helmet, pants, jacket, etc, a little saliva dropping in for a chat, rolled it up in a goey ball, and fried it up Southern Style. Bitter creamy caramel came to mind.

Been riding between 500-900kms per day on Miss Humpalot. She is humpin.

Sharing stories, comparing scars, talking about loneliness on the road and what its like to reinsert yourself back into society after many years on the road. Seems like interesting times ahead.

The light stays on the horizon for 22 hours of each day. We went out on the town at midnight and the sunlight still basked on the mountainside. Still skinny minny. Ran out of antibiotics for my tummy bugs. So planning to convince Dr in Alaska to prescribe me needed drugs without consultation fee. Afraid to pull out my wallet. Its waaay too light.

Vancouver, Canada
9th August 2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

One of the heavily tattoo'd Rockabilly boys hanging out front of The Chop Shop on Granville with the fine ladies and gents who gave me a money free Chop. Second haircut in two years. Very thankful.

Yeah yeah... Canadians kick arse. Everyone seems so damn nice, honest, helpful, happy. Ahh, its a good world.

Well almost everyone except for some chick who I rode silently past yesterday morning..

We were stuck at a set of traffic lights, her with her hunky man meat and me with my mates downhill mountain bike (pretty hunky too). A fine couple. I rolled around behind her to push the walk button. She looked at me like I was going to steal her purse. Wasn't my sort of purse anyway. Yellow doesn't go so well with my eyes.

She held her head so high she must have had a nose bleed.

And I am pretty sure she made a nasty call about my fine body odour. I still reckon I could bottle it and sell it, but by the look on her face it may be better for torturing large animals.

Besides her everyone is cool up here. I just met some random guy who I hung out with on a random beach in Costa Rica in a bike shop here in sunny Vancouver. Spin. Out. We slurped on some good times and parted ways once more.

I continued on with my errands. Heading to a free clinic to find out who has been sharing my meals for the last six months or so. Everything I eat seems determined to leave via the nearest available exit. I have coined my current disease "Rectal Rage". They couldn't see me until the next morning. Crap. So I returned to my medical cabinet (in my bike) and selected a find range of produce to rid me of my parasitic friends. First stop Zentel for the long worms. Tommorrow, I will be working on the amoeba's, dysentry and other assorted nasties with some Simplotan or Fasigyn. Five days from now I should have killed 95% of all parasites living my body. If they are still hanging out it means I am lucky enough to have caught something "rare". Can't wait.

But now! Sweet now. Now better than never. Nows the time. The fine fine peoples from Carter Motorsports have given my moto a facelift. It sounds normal, looks almost normal. I am pretty sure my bike smiled at me this afternoon. I think that means everything between us is ok. So I am/ we are going to fly like the wind and carve my/our way up to Prudhoe Bay. The far northern realm of Alaska. As far north as you can ride from what I hear.

(I have to refer to her as a person - my motorbike - I figure its the only way she is going to give me any type of respect. If only I could remember her name)

I have a month to make it. There and back. Going to be tight! But thats what I like. A fine challenge. No challenge no life. So me and my wife (the bike "Ms Humpalot") are off.

7000kms in one month. Not so bad assuming nothing breaks down (blows up). New piston, rings, wheel bearings, chain and sprockets, etc equates to new life.

Everything is 100% except for my rear shock. Which is leaking. The seal is busted. I am currently riding on the spring alone. Ahhh. Nothing like some jackinthebox action to keep you awake on the open road. Damn shock. I am going to try and rebuild it on the way and fail miserably. But I'll try anyway. I can't afford a new one, but I am going to make it to Alaska.

Hopefully I will not be eaten by brown bears, kodiak bears, grizzly bears or a polar bear.. or wolves. I will not run front shocks first into a giant set of moose testicles, I will not be dismounted by elk horns and I will not get any punctures. I will not run out of fuel. I will not spoke a tube. I will not fly head first over my handlebars. And I will get insurance as soon as I get home. After two years without any type of insurance I know my time is near. When you can't control everything and everything controls you. And you get stuck in a really really crap situation when you just pray that you were filthy rich and had your own personal helicopter and it could come and extract you from whatever foul situation you have rolled yourself into. Dreams. One day, I will have a helicopter, just like Dick (Smith). One day. And insurance.

Anyway, I am babbling now. Soon, very soon I will have covered this fine continent from tip to top. Then gunna bippety bop my way back down and get my arse over to RUSSIA on giant Tanker where everyone speaks Russian, drinks vodka and wears those woollen earflap things. That there is going to be a interesting challenge -time to learn about Siberian survival techniques - "Chapter One, Sleigh Dog on a Stick". Luckily however I have a certain Mr Cleve former SAS man about the woods who will accompany me on this fine leg. So things hopefully wont get so bad. Hopefully they will, but it'll be fun so thats ok.

Edmonton, Canada
27th July2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

Currently located in Edmonton Canada for the World Masters Games where I saw Ken Thomas win a gold medal in the handicapped 10K road race. Ken's unorthodox racing style is inspiring to watch. While pushing backwards with both feet, Ken pulls cables to steer a wheel at the rear his three wheeled chair. His words on his performance " Any race can be challenging to an athlete. It depends how hard you push yourself to do the best time ever."

I have not seem him in almost two years so it was pretty epic to catch him running his superfit 60yr old body down the home straight to win the 100m, 200m (24.4 seconds) and 400m! First time ever in his life he had won all three events and the first I have seen him at a World Titles so I was pretty damn proud. It is quite an unusual phenomenon when a family member or someone close is racing to the finish line. Everything blanks out, fuzzy edges, drunken on adrenalin, screaming, shouting, waving, dancing.. they cross the finish line. And suddenly.. everything returns to normal. But everyone is looking at me funny and laughing. I think I got a little carried away.

San Diego, USA
7th July2005


Click map to enlarge..


Click for more photos.

            
Click to view latest Magazine Cover!

Click to view Grand Canyon Video..

4th of July. The proudest day in American history, this fine young gentleman weaved his way through the crowd on Mission Blvd, San Diego, California sharing his love for his country. Spreading love to the masses.

The morning I entered the US of A, I was happily dining on rattlesnake, pigs brains and cartilage. Savouring my last Latino flavours for a few years. I slide on my seriously incapable coughing cycle on my way into El Paso, Texas.

Border guards. The most unfriendly I have met in two years. They didn't believe me when I said I came with my motorbike from Australia. Decided instead to perform a cavity search. Tore my way out of Texas (you can smoke cigarettes in Texan petrol stations - well I thought that was interesting anyway) and into New Mexico. Drank a beer with a local bikey club and made camp in an RV camp.

Spent the night talking about UFO's, the Illuminati and the Masons (of which my company was a member). He taught me the secret Mason Handshake. Not quite as touching as the Guyana Rastafari Bear Claw Shake, but interesting nonetheless. The Mason Shake is so subtle it makes you quiver. Made me feel all secretive.

I have spent most of my days marvelling at shopping centres, cars, free water and wireless internet. I have not been in a first world country for a few years now, I haven't had a watch for two years, I haven't had a mobile phone for two years, I haven't had a place to call home for two years, I haven't had my family for two years. I've had me, myself and I, and my arse munching motorcycle, and its weird.

Took me almost ten minutes to turn a shower on. I spent half an hour at a the front door of a Walmart in awe until the security guard asked me to move on, the tools in the mechanics. It seems like a dream. I made it out of Latin America. I never thought I would. Well I did, but man, my bike? Joke I tell yee. I pulled out of New Mexico and wound my way onto Tuscon, Arizona, replaced my cam chain, tensioner, sprockets, left engine mount (which had cracked in two), and a few other parts. Hung with the boys from Musselmans Honda, sleep with my new foster parents Scott and Connie and tasted the nightlife with an Awesome Aussie, his wife and brother/best friend and his girlfriend and.. yeah. they were cool.. Spuns yarns, spoke english all night for the first time in a few years and tried to fit into the Developed world. Taking my time. I don't know if I like it anymore. Feel more comfortable in the bush. All these people..

I moved up and on to Durango, Colorado, living it up in style with Miss Mouse, the daughter of Scott and Connie - leaving the bike and heading on a roadtrip down the million dollar highway to Vail and back. Then onto the Grand Canyon for a Rim to Rim session. Now, I am in Las Vegas, just replaced my clutch plates last night and will be leaving for San Diego tomorrow morning.

Well I didn't quite make it into San Diego. My chain snapped. 40miles out of my final destination, day before 4th of July Celebrations, the sun just went down, and my chain snapped. I walked 500metres back the way I came, returned to my bike and inspected the break. The chain had snapped and bent. Unfortunately I don't carry a grinder, therefore had no way of fixing it. Another rider kindly stopped to help me out, then a tow truck driver came, and then the tow truck man, instead of extracting large amounts of unsightly browned money from my butt, drove me to his mates house who helped me fix my chain for freeeee! So I made it to San Diego.. just.

Now all I gotta do is get me a new bike, new bike, new bike, new bike, new bike.....