We arrived in Tahiti and caught a taxi to the centre of town. Cruising straight into one of the best punch-ups we had ever experienced in the flesh. The taxi driver was equally entertained, cheering on both sides, enlightening our ears with occasional whoops of delight. You would think he was watching the world cup soccer. The local lads punished each others skulls with missile guided kicks and punches. They knew how to fight. Kicked on fight club. Everyone reckons they have seen a good fight, but seriously, this one shits all over anything all three of us had ever seen before. In fact it was better than watching Rocky for the 1st time or even Chuck Norris in any episode from the critically acclaimed 'Walker, Texas Ranger'. There were two or three separate fights running concurrently. Vaguely resembling a WWF Royal Rumble. The entire no-holds barred event spilt out on to the main road preventing our cab from advancing. They moved towards and surrounded the taxi. Swarming like crazed bunny rabbits doped up on mix mitosis (that weird drug they used to kill off little bunny rabbits - it makes their eyes go red and foggy - just like these guys). Tomma wanted to get the camera out, but due to potentially unforeseen circumstances (being bashed to death for our cameras) we had to stop him. Otherwise you too could experience this Tahitian phenomenon. So, there we were with front row seats and commentary from the cab driver who told us, among other things, thatthe main contender was the current Polynesian Kickboxing champion! This guy was awesome, taking on two or three guys at the same time and he didn't mind taking a few hits across the chops either. The entire event went on for just under 10 minutes only stopping once the fuzz turned up and began arresting the hostile aggressors, who by this stage, were covered in blood and clothes ripped to shreds. No animals were hurt in this physical demonstration of human strength. Initially we had planned to circumnavigate Papeete the same way
Captain Cook did way back in the......history. But we were told
it was mostly paved and not so exciting. So we bailed on the idea
and arrived on Moorea. We arrived on Moorea and jumped on the first bus heading for the nearest place to pitch a tent and relax, for the first time in many months/years of preparation. None of us could understand the French words streaming from Bus driver mans bewildered face (he looked like the dog from that Hush Puppy advertisement). He dropped us off at the wrong place. Not really surprising considering we can't even count to ten in French. Hey, you can't learn EVERY language. The climb proved no easy feat considering it was pissing with rain. Carrying two bags each, we meandered our way up the path -reminiscent of a mud-wrestling pit. We hauled enough duty-free liquor to heavily enebriate a thirsty tight five at the end of a hard game of footy. The first day involved hiking all day from Kellum Stop at Opunohu Bay, traversing across the precipitous terrain and arriving at Belvedere Lookout. We clawed our way up Mount Tohiea. Set up camp and absorbed a postcard view of the entire island. We decided it was definitely the best place we ever camped. Even if we did camp next to a 10 foot tall red and white steel pole placed in the ground next to our tent. Otherwise known as a lightning rod designed to attract lightning. Did lightning come on this fine night? Why yes, yes it did. Funny that. Missed us... ha! Take that Thor. Setting up our two-man tent which we shared between the three of us took no time at all. However, with Bogga's B.O always a cause for concern, we made a fatal error as it became trapped inside the tent. Reaching new highs of funk it stifled what little oxygen we had left to breathe. Geoff and Steve in chorus awoke on various occasions dreaming of having their heads stuck simultaneously inside a vat of hippopotamus meat that had been rotting for a good week. What are the chances of that? (Geoff and Steve just finished reading 'The Heart of Darkness' by Joseph Conrad. For those bookworms out there this means something. For the rest of you, just let it fly straight over your head. It's better that way.) ***We still hadn't had a good night of sleep. Three people in a rained on two man tent is not what you call comfort plus. To top it off we split overproof Kahlua all though the tent just before we feel asleep. Can it get any better? Next day we scaled down the other side on our way to Afareaitu on the east coast of the island. We came across a fresh water stream filled with fish, shrimps and mollusks. We washed our stinky single change of clothes (saving space) and lazed about reading all morning. Bogga slipped on a rock and landed perfectly over the top of Steve's brand spanking new Spy sunnies. Only minutes before Steve was commenting on how awesome the quality of the lens were to Mark. (He can't wear sunnies as he has glasses). Mark managed to scratch those babies all the way across the lens. No, Steve was not a happy camper. Is it possible that there are any companies out there that make Bogga proof sunglasses? After recovering from what we thought was quite an impressive overland trek dissecting the heart of Moorea with nothing more than the clothes on our back, Kahlua, tents, sunglasses, headlamps, bedmats, a packet of Kangaroo playing cards, we discovered that a day earlier a group of seven year old kids navigated the same track. Sheesh. Bloody kids - and we thought we were intrepid explorers... At sunrise we borrowed a local gent named Vin Diesel's (He looked like Vin Diesel - the guy from 'XXX' the movie, but German) surfski's and paddled 2kms out the coral break which surrounded the outer reaches of Moorea (Steve, after two weeks of losing, finally won paper-rock-scissors and scored the best surf-ski). We intended to scale the coral and body surf the waves on the other side. The coral was pretty sharp but we gave it a whirl anyway. Five
times Geoff got smashed over by waves and dragged across the coral
for a good ten metres. Sucker for punishment. Every time he stood
up and tried again. Every time he cursed the waves as they washed
him further away from his goal. We shouldn't have laughed but it
was pretty damn funny. Reminded Steve of salmon trying to swim upstream.
With giant brown bears slogging them across the face with diamond
sharp paws. A determined young gentleman. 'A' for effort Mr Thomas.
New Years Eve we arrived back in Papeete. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 12:20am. Regardless, we were determined to celebrate with a few beers and take it from there. We arrived at the boat terminal from Moorea, clambering towards the local bus for the airport. En-route we hi-jacked the bus at the grog shop and the Bogman sprinted for the beer shop to purchase a single beer for each of us with our remaining cash flow. The bus driver got the shits and pulled off (No not that. He pulled off the curb. Damn. Some people have filthy imaginations) before Bogga got back. Mark lifted knees to chin to catch the bus... and made it. Legend! Almost every local on the bus was offering us weed and informing us about how great weed is in Tahiti. These guys were rolling spliffs the size of waffle ice cream cones right there on the bus and in the street without the slightest bit of paranoia. After refusing what seemed like the 20th invitation to smoke up a storm we finally arrived at the airport still clutching our beloved can of Hinano Lager thanks to the Bogga sprint. We arrived at the airport with empty cans. We tried buying beers with our credit cards, but nobody was accepting them. The only option we had was to use the $20AUS Bogga had holed up in his wallet and a foreign exchange machine used to convert any currency into Tahitian Francs. Bogga reluctantly placed his last bit of Aussie currency into the machine and guess what pops out? The equivalent of about $12AUS in Tahitian Francs - now that's what you call a commission! These machines, resembling dodgy looking poker machines without the colored lights successfully robbed us blind. With this new found wealth we managed to splurge out on one more
beer each to help bring on the New Year. Twenty games of 'Shithead'
later we were in the departure lounge. We watched the New Years
Eve fireworks from the stairs of the airplane. The Lost on Earth
team knocked back a few more cold beverages on the plane and dreamt
of Easter Island. The first man made wonder on our hit list. The airport was just like in the brochures, boring. The highlight was when Steve purchased some Kiwi flavoured lip balm. (When we arrived at Easter Island (first man-made wonder) Tommy
boy burnt his lips in the intense Pacific sunshine. His lips looking
something similar to a bloated goldfish carcass, floating in the
fish bowl for a few days. Geoff insisted that Steve massacre his
imported Kiwi lip balm for the sake of Geoffs boyish good looks.
After much evasion Steve agreed. After all, he was spading the former
Miss Chile (Miss Francisca you know who you are). She had a boyfriend.
Massacred for nothing. Sheesh. Dec
28th - Dec 31st, 2003 At 7:00am on Friday the 28th December, 2003, reality finally jumped over the fence, sprinted across the highway, just missed a bus and charged arms flailing to deliver a Mike Tyson stylin'punch in the face of every single member of the Lost on Earth team. We said our final goodbyes to our respective families for the last time for the next three years. At the time, it was almost impossible to conceive not laying eyes on any of our family members or mates for such a long period of time. You don't realize what you've got until you lost it. Or at least misplaced it for a period. Building bricks of life are family and friends.....but that's another story. The three of us entered our pre-booked airbus to heaven, lubing the emotional embers with a few beers in preparation for our three year adventure around the world. The fact that we would not see our family and friends for such an extensive period definitely made us sad, but at the same time we were all filled with immense energy similar to skirting the edges of 'The Gravitron' at the Easter show with an electric eel shoved down your pants. Something you will never forget. We were about to embark on an unbelievable journey which would change our lives forever. Actually to tell you the truth, it already has. Steve and Geoff are never going to share a room with Bogga's armpits ever again. Quit pits. No more pits for us. Nup. Don't like them. No more bills for three years. How cool is that? No more 9-5 work play, freedom to think, feel, smell, touch, anything you god damn feel like. Aye, this is the life. We all dealt with saying goodbye to our families and our country in our own special ways: Bogga: Enjoyed a few chocolate bonbons - a few - more like the
entire 500 gram box. The lad was foaming at the mouth after losing
his brand new knife, fork and spoon at the customs security checkpoint.
Poor Bogga. He was really attached to that cutlery. He has always
been very monogamous when it comes to eating utensils. Steve: Listened to the greatest hits of Kamarl on his new iPod
to soothe his upset mind - Steve insists on Kamarl being the 'Black
Elvis', but this is debatable as Billy Ocean or even Terence Trent
Darby are clearly more popular choices. Geoffro: Sat back and enjoyed a colourful conversation on the state
of sheep grazing in North Eastern NSW and other agricultural 'hot
topics' with an old-boy from Tamworth. This guy had tobacco-brown
teeth and severe gout, but his stimulating yarns distracted Geoff
from his physical defects. |
   
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