Van!

 

It's ridiculous. I just got given a car. No bullshit. My good friend Zain Mirza just gave me a van on the faith that I will pay him back after I work hard and earn it. He didn't even want any money, but I've got to pay back this solid. It's amazing.

          Although I did get a bit stuck in Edmonton, it was all good and actually a lot of fun. I met a ridiculous amount of good people here. Some really good happenings and good conversations. Good Karma. It's a really great hostel, the HI in Edmonton. Great staff, nice home. It's a pretty nice town, too. The people are friendly here. Most of my friends have been Canadians too, which is a pretty cool bonus. Lots of walking and talking with a new bro called Takhar. Lots of good parties. Unforgettable times, no doubt.

 But, it's time to get serious now. Now I have a Resposibility, and a big one at that. I've gotta make it happen, no chance for excuses. No more clowning about. No more waiting.

           I've been waiting around alot for one company to arrange a drug test so I can go out on the oil rigs, but it just hasn't been happening. I've honestly not been so productive, but at first it did seem a guaranteed job. I've got my First Aid and Hydrogen Sulphide tickets now, though, so I should be good to go whenever the time is right. 

 The problem at the moment, though, is that everybody up here, or at least a good majority, are stuck in the very same boat right now. The oilfields haven't frozen yet and they can't drill until the ground is frozen and firm enough to work on. It must be costing the industry a fair bit of money. No doubt.

           So... the time's not right to join the queue here at the oilfields, not yet anyway. It will just be more waiting, regardless. I'm going to head down to Calgary. I've got a mate named Isaac who is going to show me the ropes down there, and I really want to hit the ground running and get amongst some work -- the savings have taken a pounding. I've got a good feeling about this, It feels like fate again. I mean the signs are ridiculous. A car? Seriously? Zain! Just like Muz, a champion bloke -- No worries. How does this shit keep happening? All of you people in my life are amazing. Thank You.

            My new ride is a Chevvy Venture. It's a people mover with room to sleep at the back. It's cozy, runs like an a dream and has all the bells and whistles. It's the perfect vehicle for this strange and long adventure. All I have to do now is sort my license out, fix the brakes, register and insure it and Save money, not to mention get a good job, or two. No worries though, I got this. It's just the kick in the arse that I needed. Some Responsibility; it's not just my arse on the line here anymore, it's Simpkin's as well.

South America – Here we come! Sometimes I don't think I'm worthy, but man. The power of positive energy. People helping people, we live in amazing times. 99%. Occupy Edmonton was nice, too. Power to the people, right on.

Listo!

Crossing the Rockies

On the last Thursday of September I packed up my bags, caught the skytrain to Surrey and a bus to the edge of the suburbs and Highway 1, the Trans-Canada. I walked up the road a K or two until I decent spot to wait. Long straight, wide shoulder before a bend -- plenty of room to stop. The general plan was to hitch rides from one side of the Rocky Mountains to the other, where I had reason to believe a pretty good job interview awaited me in the beaut little mountain town of Fernie.

        I had to wait a little while for my first ride, probably an hour or so, before a black ute pulled up, driven by a paint-spattered construction worker named John, about my age. We talked snowboarding and got all frothed on that. Eventually I was dropped off at Abbotsford, a good 30km ride. From my drop-off point I could see Baker Mountain in the US, covered with snow and looking all majestic. Froth. I walked to a long stretch of highway and put the thumb to work again. Within minutes a blue hatchback pulled into a parking bay up ahead. I wasn't sure if it was for me or not at first, so I went to the window to see what was up. I looked in to see a lady, probably around thirty odd, in the process of chopping up a leafy mix. She offered me a ride, and a joint to boot. Things were definitely looking up.

       We smoked our little jingo and had a good conversation. Anne had been living on Vancouver Island with her husband, but work had dried up there, so they decided to move to Chilliwack, as they had some friends there. Good lady, I hope she does well, and know she will. We exchanged nice words as she dropped me off the exit on the western outskirts of Chilliwack, a bit of a walk from the highway, but another 30km to the east. It was mid afternoon by now, probably some time close to two-two-thirty. No phone or watch, though, so I just had to pull the ol' Croc Dundee.

       On my way back to the highway it finally began to dawn on me that this was going to be a truly epic mission, and I started getting pretty psyched for it. I could see the Rockies now to the East, South and North. I was within kilometers of entering the fabled mountains. I stopped by the side of the road to have a look at my map, have a rest and get some food and water. I still had a thousand or so kilometers to cover to Fernie, but my outlook was buoyed by my two good rides – feeling positive. I found a fresh food market not far off the road and bought a selection of the freshest fruit, a couple of litres of water and some juice. Out the front were these two rusty old wagons, filled with pumpkins of all shapes and sizes – green ones, red ones, orange and stripey ones. It was nice.
        I went back to the highway. Ahead as far as the eye could see were barns and farmlands, cornfields and such nestled in a wide flat valley formed by some humungous glacier, millions of years ago. The sun was shining, life was sublime. I took a good spot and waited. I could see another hitchhiker up ahead. He got a ride in a white ute and that was that. I decided to get moving. The highway was straight and long, wide shouldered and seemingly ideal for rides. Plenty of traffic though, and moving fast at 100mph. Trucks and trucks booming to wherever. I would tramp along a km or so, stop, sit on my bag and stick out the thumb and have a drink and a rest and then go again.

       A few hours of this, and I started to get a bit worried. Nobody had even looked like stopping for ages. I began looking along the side of the road for places to sleep. Another hour and a half of tramping and stopping along the road. Nothing but fast traffic and the occasional beep or abuse from passing idiots. The sun was setting, so I gave up for the night. I spied a good place to kip down right behind me in the ditch beside the road, but I stayed put for the meantime, just chilling on my bag eating an apple, to watch the sun go down behind the mountains. A police car swooped in to have a look at me but didn't hassle me, instead pulling a car over for speeding a little further up the road.

       And so, as dusk turned into night, I retreated to my little ditch, fashioned myself a surprisingly cozy little bed amongst the long wheatgrass at the bottom. I rolled out my sleeping bag and planned my route to Fernie by torchlight. I was fairly tired, but feeling pretty good about the mission. I lay awake for ages, blowing smoke at the stars. Endless trucks thundered past. Eventually I got some sleep, and slept well, before waking up somewhat cold and damp in the pre-dawn light. I stretched out my weary bones, pissed in the bush and brushed my teeth, packed up my gear and made my way back to the roadside. Lollies, an apple and a cigarette for breakfast; thumb out in anticipation of an early ride to Hope, where I planned to get off the Trans-Canada and hopefully escape the intense, fast-paced bombing traffic of the highway for some country roads on Highway 3.

       I did not get an early lift. I did not get a lift for a long, long time. I ended up walking probably 15 kilometers that day, slogging it out along the long straight road. Walk a K, take a break. Walk a K, take a break. It wasn't until mid-afternoon that I got a ride from right at the base of the Rockies with an Edmonton oil rigger named Luc. He was on his way home, traveling Northwest across the mountains towards and through Jasper. I was just glad to be in a car, moving fast agin. We had a few real good laughs. I ended up deviating from my planned path, from Hope to Kamloops, thinking it could well be a better way through the mountains. It wasn't. It was a good ride. I also got some clues to where the big bucks were to be made up on the oil fields of North Alberta.   

       I checked into a cheap hotel, nice for the price, actually, and mulled it all over. I was starting to get a nagging feeling that a change in plan was necessary; and that if I kept trying to hitch straight on to Fernie things would start to go wrong. I could just feel it. I didn't even have a knife in my bag, for chrissakes. Too many schoolboy errors and little signs saying "Don't do it". I sensed impending doom, somehow. So I spent a few days in Kamloops -- max chillin' and reorganising my flightpath. I needed the rest, too. TV in bed, what luxury! I prepared myself for a bus ride to Edmonton. It was time to get serious and get some work. The bus ride was beautiful, the Rockies (especially around Jasper) were spectacular. I mean, maybe not as spectacular as Jindabyne, but still pretty good. Night fell and we came into Alberta and the oil fields. Fires like torches in the darkness. Time to learn a thing or two about oil, I thought.

Dime con quién andas y te diré quién eres...

My first few nights in Vancouver were spent in the far-flung outskirts of East Hastings. My first walk into the city was an eye-opener, to say the least -- Wild junkies, lost homeless, vacant stares; beggars and the lost; living life at the bitter and unforgiving End of the Line. A sad place, a scary place. On my first night, past midnight some time, still wide awake and at the mercies of obscene jetlag, my curiosity got the better of me. As I sat there sipping at a scotch and thinking about the things I'd seen already in the daylight hours -- the people talking to themselves or yelling out at nobody and everybody, the main-vein side-alley self abuse, those wrapped up in their sleeping bags, dead to the world and covered in spew -- I wondered what happened when the lights went out and the clock passed midnight. The imagination recoiled in horror, but I had to see, or at least have a peek...
       So I went down. In the end I made it only 2 blocks down the road. Within a matter of minutes I was offered the body of a short, vacant stared woman and some crack cocaine. I gave her a smoke and tried to spark up a conversation with this lady, to gain a little perspective form her life out here, but she quickly lost interest when I refused her offers. I pulled my hood tight and pressed a little deeper. I could sense the stares, but I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact with any of them, mostly sitting in small groups, talking quietly, searching bins, scouring the gutters for decent butts. With every step I could feel the fear creeping in. I stopped on a brightly lit corner and sparked up a cigarette. I could hear a man behind me talking on a phone, talking wildly to somebody about somebody who "Killed all of those women, Fucking Killed all those fucking women... And a white guy, too". Shit was getting a bit real for me, no shit, so I spun on my heels and retreated to the safety of the Patricia Hotel. On my way back I accidentally looked at the wrong dude, who seemed to be a dropout from the skater crowd, wild haired and jumpy. As I passed him by he got up and started yelling at me, kicked a plastic cup towards me. He followed me not so far behind, a string of abuse I could not understand. I was shitting myself. The last thing I heard him say was "You got no place walking around here at this hour of the morning, man!" Indeed.
       They do it fucking tough out there. As Vancouver's nicer center slowly pushes into their district, times and space are getting harder. A lot of the cheap hotels that some of them have fought so hard to get themselves into are being repossessed to make way for nicer hotels and business places, meaning more people on the streets. A hard situation, both at ground level and for government. I mean once you get so far down the line, you become difficult to help. There are a lot of homeless in this city. A lot of people who need help.

* * *

 I spent the next couple of days going about my business, setting up a bank account and social security number; just getting acclimatised and my feet on the ground and a feel for the city. My perspective of VC was kind of a bit negative still, due to having to walk down Skid row and back every day, but I was having a good time, productive. I booked in early for a weekend at the Youth Hostel downtown, with the idea of meeting a few people, having a good time, and swapping a few stories with and copping some advice from people who were actually out there amongst Canada already doing it.  

        And so, on friday I checked in to the hostel. From there on out until today, the good times just rolled on. Friday night was Pub Night, Captains and Budweisers and rowdiness with a good good crowd at the Bourbon Bar, an American styled Country & Western Saloon bar. Loose moralled behavior. Saturday night: Drinks at the hostel with all and any comers. Aussies, French, Brazilians, Czech, and a fateful encounter with a group of ladies from San Fransisco. BC bud was discovered. Very good conversations, smoke haze and alcoblur. Soul Talk. Good Times. The power of saying G'day and offering a beer. Met at least 20 awesome awesome people over the course of the weekend.

         Sunday was awesome. Burger breakfast with my buddy Shafiqur and the ladies from SF. Larissa, Amanda, Michelle and Cristina. Shafiq and I caught up with the first 3 of the ladies (The Weed Fairies) later on that afternoon, just as they were about to go on a mission to see the Jimi Hendrix shrine on the other side of town -- via an "Amsterdam" style (BYO) cafe, where we were introduced to the VAPOURISER. Freshly baked goods, indeed. We paid our respects to the King. Jimi Hendrix's grandma owned a chicken shop there, way back when, and Jimi would visit her there. It was pretty cool. One or two of his guitars, some of his handwritten lyrics and heaps of other stuff. After that we walked back and had a memorable microwaved family meal and some ice cream. Those SF girls are really something. Awesome people on awesome paths. Good vibrations all round. A little while after that, Larissa and I kind of got all smitten and head over heels and finally got to know each other a little bit. Perfect moment in a park. Then she left the next day. I already miss her. Smitten.

         Another bender on the monday with a couple of the Aussie lads who left today (tuesday), and a day of chilling today. A hobo drew my portrait. I love Vancouver. Off the Wall in Van City. Everybody is awesome. 11/10 start to my new amazing adventure. And tomorrow, it's time to move again. East to West across the Rockies to Fernie, by way of thumb. Whisperings of a job in a hotel, only one way to find out. I'm going to the mountains now! Fuck Yeah!

       

2.0

 A weekend in Brisbane. It’s close. I almost can’t believe that I'm going to make it. It’s been some kind of weekend. I am so unbelievably thankful to all my friends and family, all those that pulled me through my life over the last 12 months --27 years; I really couldn’t live without you. I’m a bit of a freeloader and lately I’ve been taking a lot more than I’ve been giving back. I can be a burden, the human tax. I really don’t deserve the friends I’ve got. I fucking love all of you. I can't give you much but me and some friendship, so thanks for being there for me, even when I've sometimes been a fuck wit. I’ve had the best time, though. My friends are the most awesome people in world. I mean that so much.
And now that you’ve all dragged my  over the line this time, I am soon to find myself alone for a while. Time to learn how to stand up for myself, a jump in the deep end. I’m scared as shit, but so keen. I am embarking on an incredible journey. From my big brown land of Oz to the mountains and snow of Canada, hitchhiking through the US at election time with the Mayor, the remains of Ché and Fidel’s revolution, to the lands of Mayan and Inca, mystical Ayahuasca and so much more, all wrapped up in 2012, the year everyone thinks the World’s going to end. So bear with me. This is going to be something, no doubt about it; so keep posted for DANGER!  EXCITEMENT! INEXPLICABLE FUCKUPS!  .... Romance?; Growing, learning and picking up a little wisdom on the long path to enlightenment and being a man. So I present to you; Jim's Journey 2.0

Extra Super Mega-Thanks to Reannyn and Muz, Smitty and Nicole, Benny and Dave, Eddy, Jjimmy and my MUM!

I owe it all to you. 

Seven Seas Later...

Well troops here I am in Kudat. The good ship Olza rests at ease at the marina here, and my work here is done. The final 15 day run from Tawau was a real battle. We had to motor most of the way, because the wind pinned our nose with uncanny precision the whole way around Borneo. We weaved through reefs, rocks, shipwrecks and numerous other hazards and nearly got run fown by a bulk carrier ship. I got real sick at one stage after I dived over the edge to scrape some barnacles off the hull in Semporna. The tide began to turn and so much garbage floated past me. A nappy went past my face. I was in agony and bucket bound for a week. Malaysians dont give a fuck about pollution, unfortunately. The beach at Sandakan was the worst I've seen. Had to wade through a 2 feet deep layer of plastic and shit to get off the beach. Full on. Apart from that the country is pretty good. Pretty developed and modern, but I like Indonesia better. More charachter and nicer people. No money brings out the best in people. But anywho.
Easily the best bit was when I swam with a bunch of giant sea turtles in this amazing bay at sunset. Possibly the most awesome thing I've experienced. They were all swimming around the boat as we dropped anchor, so I jumped in and joined them. Perfect. I'd marry Mother Nature for that. Easy.
Our engine died with 20 miles to go just before we were to round the northern cape of Borneo. Not cool. Good old Olza way well be the slowest, least well prepared ship to sail up-the-wind on the seven seas, and we had plenty of wind. Straight, as usual, on the nose blowing clean from Kudat. We spent 3 days and nights storming the cape. Hard fuckin work, dudes. So close to the finish line of a long long journey with so little time to spare. Frustrating stuff. Tacking left and right across the channel for ages and ages in a battle of inches, until finally we began to make some progress as the with the wind slowly shifting to the NW. I had just about given up on the third morning, we could still see the place where our engine had failed three days before. Then, as if by magic, our prayers were answered and we got an awesome wind that blew us all the way home. One last bit of champagne sailing really got the juices flowing I tell you. Wind in the hair, sun on the skin and that satisfying hiss of the boat cutting through swell. Ahhh. Man! We enlisted the help of a few fellow yachties who towed us in to the marina and before we knew it, it was all over. Mixed feelings and emotions and thoughts going everywhere. Been a long, wild ride, and I'll never forget it. Something else I tell ya.
In other news I have decided to put Canada on the shelf for 12 months. Im running out of money and would need to borrow money off Mum to continue. I cant do it. Im 26. Time to go home and earn my independence, and do it under my own steam. Centrelink is hassling me for money too so that needs sorting out and I have a parasite in my eye. All signs point to Oz. And to tell you the truth I'm heaps heaps keen for it. Steaks, VB, the Ashes, fat banjos, video games, YOU. Australian summer has never sounded better. Canada will be there next year, and my work visa lasts 12 months. So I think I'll go back to Brissy via Sydney, Newcastle, MP, and Coffs and try get some shitty job to last me till the next pearling season in Darwin. Pumped. Going to spend a week in the Jungle then romp on home, so this will be the last blog post for a while. Thanks for taking the time to read it, ay. Makes me feel good. Anyways Stay tuned for version 2.0. A man, a van and the Americas. Going to be a hoot!

First thing you know Ill be back in Bow Riveeee-rrrrr... Aaaaaa-gainnnnnnnnnnnn.

Tawau Rock City

Well gentlemen, ladies, I have been in Tawau, Malaysia 4 days now. Indonesia was the best ever. Most awesome people on God's blue Earth. Tawau itself is a bit of a dive. Kind of looks like Bankstown or Redfern or some shit place like that. Day before yesterday though, I dropped into a music studio to buy a Morbid Angel t-shirt I saw in the window, next thing you know I was jamming in the studio with the dude, Paktam. Pretty much the legend around town it seems. My Guitar skills: shameful. Drum skills: worse. Turns out his band, Noisy Crush, a grunge/rocknroll cover band was playing a gig that afternoon. I went along and got my mosh on to some local bands, sang backup vocals on "Smells like teen spirit" for Noisy Crush, who ripped it pretty hard, and sang an Arctic Monkeys number with another band. The scene here in Tawau is really good, all the bands were sweet and the kids sure no how to mosh. I busted my toe up good, but it is a long-established fact that thongs and hardcore dancing don't mix. All in the name of rock and roll, so it's all good. I met some really rad people and had a sweet, sweet time.

Yesterday I stayed on the boat, jumped in the water heaps and listened to terrible 80's and 90's music beamed from KL on the radio real loud. I ate so many biscuits with jam, drank alot of coffee, read and wrote and smoked cigarettes all day. Ended up covered with salt and sunburnt. It was a good day.

Today, after lunch, My skipper and I are set to begin our last hair-raising leg of our intrepid voyage. We plan to get around the northern tip of Borneoto Kota Kinabalu in 2 weeks. A slightly ridiculous proposition, sailing by day and night around 400 miles of fairly dangerous coastline, but whats life without a bit of danger eh? The whole coastline is a jumble of reefs, rocks, islands and atolls, and Tad's charts are pretty dodgy, but we are capable. Besides, we dont have much choice. Skipper has to get back to Oz because everybodys favourite wankers at Centrelink are trying to take his pension and the closest marina is at KK. So it's a mad dash for the finsh line for the 2 men aboard the Good Ship Olza. May Neptune, Apollo and the good Lord above guide our way. HUZZAH!

Nunukan Run, but Nunukan Hide

It's been a while, me hearties, but here I am in Nunukan at last. Nunukan is the Indonesian border-town on the east coast of Borneo. Today is my last full day in Indonesia before we haul anchor and set sail for Tawau, Malaysia tomorrow morning. Our 10 day run here from Buol, where we wre arrested by the coast guard for not checking in just after the last blog post, and I later had one of the best times of the trip so far playing soccer on the beach with the local kids, was by far the most eventful sea-passage yet.
        The first few days saw us battling for inches against strong currents, huge, wild storms and large, sharp seas. As we pushed purther north into the Celebes Sea though, we actually got a few days of steady wind and easy sailing with the current. Some of our first extended sessions of easy sailing so far. Like a dream. We were sailing along a shipping line however, and this demanded constantly for us to be on the full lookout, as those oil rigs and bulk carriers close really fast. We had a couple of very close encounters. They either dont keep a lookout or dont care. Even when they should give way, they just plough on ahead. Scary. We got next to no sleep there for about 5 days. There was a turning point in amongst it all there for me personally, one still, perfect sunrise. Up until then I had been progressively struggling to cope with the strain of the stress, lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of cigarettes, my skipper, fear, anger, exhaustion, homesickness. Its hard to describe but I became tougher. Right there on the spot. The night before had been hell, but I was suddenly filled with peace, strength and a feeling of self-belief. This wild ride has changed me, in some ways, friends. Not personality-wise, but intrinsically.
      But anyways, we still had a long way to go, and time on our visas short. A couple more days of pretty standard sailing, but things were improving. I was really up for it all, and me and Tad started to get along alot better. Early in the morning, we glimpsed what we believed to be our first sighting of mythical Borneo. It turned out to be a giant oil platform. It was sobering that day, as we sailed towards one of the last true wildernesses left on Earth. The night before, i could smell the jungle, and was filled with dreams and excitement, you can smell land before you can see it.
       Day 7 we first saw an oil rig, then on the outgoing tide, hundreds or thousands even of logs and dirty water. Nothing and nowhere is sacred in the world of greed, capitalism and the almighty dollar. Sickening. Later that night we were drawing close to the island of Nunukan, but a strong current was pushing us backwards, so we dropped anchor, exhausted. Not too long after, around four in the morning,we were snagged in a drift-net employed by the local fishermen. We managed, (at least we thought so) to cut it free. We got hit by two more of the 250meter long nets in the next 4 hours. No ewst for the wicked, eh? Bad, bad spot. We decided to get the hell out of there. Our motor wouldnt budge. I spent most of the  morning diving under the boat trying to hack the remains of the first net from the propellor. There was alot of it and I didnt make much of an impact. The current was very strong, and I was getting turned to mincemeat on the barnacles on the bottom of the boat. Just as the tide was turning towards Nunukan, a strong wind picked up and we sailed the rest of the day at up to 9 knots. Our fastest speed of the trip so far. I spent the first 4 hours of day 9 diving under and cutting the net free. I finally did it after about 200 dives. Hard yakka, I tell you.
       That night we motored to Nunukan, through a minefiels of nets and buoys at high speed with the skipper on deck yelling coordinates at me and things like "70°", and "Hard to port gaddamit!" we were nearly snagged a couple of times. It was like a videogame. got snagged twice. had to cut a rope free the first time, but the speed of the boat pukked us free the second. Fuckin wild. Eventually we dropped anchor late afternoon day 10. Had an awesome day 1 in Nunukan (the kids, beautiful town), an awful day 2 (beauracracy, missed opportunities). Today is my last here. Malaysia tomorrow, here we come!
Fuck, long post, good luck with that!