Trolley Bus Downtown Vancouver

OK Whistler here we come! It’s only about 2 hours to Vancouver from Seattle but by the time everyone gets off the bus, collects their bags, goes through customs and loads up their bags again, it’s more like 4 hours. Pretty straight forward though, I’d already worked out where the Hi was and how to get there, only a short one and a half mile walk from the station and I was there. In 1974 on my way to Oz, I ran into a Canadian girl, Joanne, in Turkey, we ended up doing the overland trip together, all the way to Perth. She used to rave about how good Vancouver was and in particular Vancouver Island where she was from, she also used to rave about this new hamburger joint that had appeared in Canada and how good it was, “you drive in, get the best hamburger and chips, you ever tasted and drive out again” she couldn’t believe I’d never heard of it and said “they will be in England soon”. That was Mac Donald’s, “Ah! It’ll never take over Wimpy though”; I said…how wrong can you be? Anyway I was always gonna go to Vancouver and here I was. Like Seattle I immediately warmed to the vibe, although it was very different to the image I had in my mind, the snow capped mountains were a lot closer now, I could almost touch them. I wasn’t going to hang around, so after a couple of days getting the feel, I was on the Greyhound once more heading for the Hi in Whistler which was about seven miles south of Whistle village and was part of the old Olympic village. Even though it was such a way from the lifts it wasn’t a problem, the bus stopped right outside and it was a short ride to the chair lifts, either in Creek side or the village. I’d gotten used to travelling to the mountain by bus in Tahoe. I got the bus into the village to check out ski hire and a look around and ended up in one of the many pubs there, I was served by an Ozzie and my immediate thought was maybe I can get away with not having to give him a bribe, to get another pint when I finish this one. It’s not always the case but I have been in places, where if the bar tender doesn’t receive his or her bribe, you could wait a long time, or get completely ignored, before you get another. At 8 to 10 dollars an hour though, I guess they do rely, on the generosity of the punter. I did meet the odd Canadian in Whistler but mostly it’s full of young Ozzies, Brits, Europeans, and Japanese, here for the experience, boarding, skiing and generally having a good time. I got back to the Hostel and discovered I had a message from the lovely Ms Tink who I’d messaged earlier so we could catch up. Tori was one of those young Ozzies who had been here for the season and was another of my neighbours and work mates in Falls Creek, she was offering me a bed in her house which she shared with a few other people, one of which, had left to do a road trip in the USA. I thought about it for about a second, before deciding I’d move out of the Hostel and take her up on her generous offer, not only did she supply me with a bed but also organised boots and skis for me for the price of a bottle vodka. I met up with her when she finished work that night, at 11pm for a drink, it was fantastic to run into her again and we were very good, not drinking nearly as much as we did in Falls, where we were prone to overdo things a little. The following morning I turned up with my bags and settled in to my cosy new home.

I am ….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Space Needle Seattle

By the end of the week I was skiing well and started to look forward to getting to whistler in B.C where I could do more. I booked a seat on Greyhound to Seattle which was a 24 hour journey but it was getting towards the end of the season, no point in hanging around, anywhere I missed on route, would still be there on the return trip. Rodney had ordered a tent, mattress and stove from the internet which had arrived, he decided he would also take the bus to Seattle and started talking about maybe going to Whistler and having some lessons. I bussed into Truckee with plenty of time to explore before the Greyhound arrived, Rodney turned up later with the bike loaded up, to see if he could get on (he hadn’t booked a seat) he got on. This was my third trip on greyhound and I was thinking what a good cheap way to get around, until I got on here, I’d gotten on at the start of the journey up until now and sat up front but this was almost full, the only seat available to me, was at the back, next to the restroom for your convenience. Luckily it was only a 3 hour trip before changing at Sacramento, I had my neck warmer on which I had over my face all the way and was still retching. Every time I got a Greyhound after that, I made sure I was on the front seat, or as close to the front as possible. In Sacramento Rodney had to pack his bike up in a box and buy a ticket, I made straight for the line-up for the next bus, so I could get the front seat which I did. Rodney ended up on another bus but both were heading for Portland Oregon where we would change again for Seattle. It was about one-o-clock in the morning, we were approaching the border of California and Oregon, on a mountain road, I was in the front seat, our driver was a very small Mexican lady, there was a blizzard outside, making visibility difficult, the sign flashing on the side of the road, said you must put your chains on here. I looked outside, looked at the driver and thought, she’s not gonna be able to do that on her own. I sighed a breath of relief, when from the back of the bus a big butch guy in shorts cried out, can I help you put those chains on…PHEW!.. Rodney ended up on the same bus as me for the final stretch into Seattle; I had booked in at the Hi Seattle in Chinatown, he was in the Green Turtle in the city, the last time I saw him he was putting his bike back together in the bus station, I assume he did his trip down the Oregon coast and went back to Ireland, he could also be in  Hawaii buying a sailing boat he had his eyes on via the internet, one of these day’s we may cross paths again, Good luck Rodney..Or was it Patrick?

I immediately warmed to Seattle; I was in Chinatown just outside the city but close enough to walk in, when I wanted to. A walk along 1^st Avenue into the city takes you passed little blues bars and cafes and on to Pike Street markets where the atmosphere is electric, along the cobble stones, passed the original Starbucks, where out front there is a variety of buskers, my favourite being the barber quartet, four black fella’s with no music other than the lead guy clapping a beat and the rest just beautiful harmony’s. When you’ve had enough entertainment, a walk back along the waterfront which makes me think of Sydney Harbour with no buildings along its foreshores and the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House replaced by snow capped mountains in the distance. I like it here but those mountains in the distance is where I want to be right now.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Hostel Tahoe

I’d messaged Kim, my neighbour in Falls Creek, who had been in Tahoe the year before and was back for more snowboarding, fun and laughter. In fact it was her description of the place that made me decide to go there. She was still around but only for another two weeks, still time to show me around the mountain. The hostel in Kings Beach was right on the lake and I arranged a meet with Kim at the Wednesday drinking hole, which was just down the road in Kings Beach. I didn’t stay long but arranged to meet her and her entourage the following morning at North Star, one of the about seven ski resorts in the area. It was great to be in the mountains again, the lift pass at North Star was a bit expensive at a hundred dollars a day but with Kim’s season pass, she was able to get me a 20 dollar discount. I was once again sliding down a mountain on a couple of sticks and the exhilaration was evident in the howls of enjoyment that could only be heard by me of course….why did it take so long for me to discover skiing?…. after 3 hours, my legs were telling me to stop, so I left the girls, to go and play in the park, while I headed back to the hostel. I discovered I had a roommate, Rodney, he was riding a bicycle, you rode that thing all the way from Ireland I asked, ah no, not at all at all, to be sure, I don’t have ony scuba gear wit me. Ah yes, I suppose it would be a bit difficult, no I sailed the boat over to San Diego and sold it, got the train to Truckee and biked it here. A retired policeman from Northern Ireland, who was here, he told me, to improve his skiing before heading to Seattle to cycle down the Oregon coast, a pursuit, I have discovered which many cyclist wish to do. The following morning Rodney and I went to Diamond Peak, another of the many mountains to ski here, this was more reasonable at 50 dollars a day. My legs were doing ok but I decided to have a day off from skiing, as the forecast was predicting storms the following day. I took the skis back to Don at bike and ski along the road; he looked at the skis and said they are not mine. Somewhere up the mountain they had been switched and I had some one else’s and no doubt they had mine, or rather Dons. Don was not happy, they may turn up he said but if not, you will have to pay me 170 dollars, now I wasn’t happy. I went back after my day off and had to use the skis I’d brought back, which were fine and had another couple of days on them. On my final day in Tahoe I went to Diamond Peak to see if they had been handed in, went to the hire shops around the place to see if they had turned up, nothing, I went back to Dons and we decided on 50 dollars. If they turned up, he was 50 dollars in pocket, if not he could still hire out the ones I gave him, he was OK with that.

Rodney was a good laugh, as are most Irishmen I’ve run into over the years, the first one though who doesn’t have a drink. Aye now, I would like to have a drink wit yer to be sure but if I were to do that,  then Patrick would show up and Patrick always gets  into trouble, so it’s better if I refrain, for me and avery one around me, seriously! OK with me, I’ve known a few people who shouldn’t partake in the demon drink, one of which I was forced to spend the first 16 years of my life with. Devon was a local girl who looked after the hostel at the weekend, probably while Andrew went off skiing, mountain bike riding, Kayaking, hiking or many of the other outdoor activities he enjoyed so much. Devon was also a touring cyclist and spent many an afternoon, telling of all the fascinating places in the area, she could talk the hind legs off a donkey and her and Patrick, or was it Rodney, were well matched in the talking stakes. She refused to get in a car, ride a bus, get on an aeroplane or use anything that uses fuel. A girl with great conviction that one has to admire, it would be impossible for me to live that way.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Fishermans Wharf

One block east from the beach, you enter the jungle, about 1,200 square Klm, of traffic, wide streets and shapeless buildings. The Greyhound terminal was in the middle of it, so I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I had to be on my way at 4am and catch 2 buses, to get me there for the 6-o-clock. It was dark but I didn’t feel I was missing anything, I was on my way to San Francisco and happy to be going. The six-o-clock was full so I had to wait till 9-30. It wasn’t long before we were on Interstate 5 heading north and for the first time, I was able to see some countryside. Much the same as L.A, very flat with the odd orchard close to the highway and nothing much beyond that. Good now I can get some sleep. I made a mental note to stay off the Interstate highways when I get the bike and drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the day. By the time we cruised into San Fran, It was getting dark, I’m getting organised these days and knew exactly where to go, the Hi International San Fran, these Hostels are all over the world 25 to 35 dollars a night with usually a free breakfast, I am now a member which gives me discounts. So a walk for a mile and a half and there it is, in downtown San Francisco, I am still not used to all the homeless which I see is the same in San Fran. I haven’t been asked for money so much since I was in India in the seventies, there, they are the untouchables, here there is also an underclass but they are just called bums. The following morning I was up at the crack of 10, had some breakfast and headed out to explore, this was better, trams, trolley buses, hills, old buildings… character…. I spent the whole day walking, I walked through little Italy, in china town, I caught a couple of old ladies doing Tai Chi in the park and joined them for a few moves, went down to pier 39 where the sea lions have taken over a couple of pontoons on the harbour. I walked along the Bay, past Fishermans Wharf with Alcatraz in the bay and the golden gate bridge in the distance, I wasn’t going to make the bridge today, never mind I will be back again and ride over on the bike, I love San Fran. I could have stayed here longer but I wanted to get up the mountains before the season ended, so after a couple of days I was on the Greyhound heading east to Truckee and the Sierra Nevada. We stopped in Sacramento to change buses and as we left there I started to notice the snow covered mountains in the distance, by the time we got to Truckee we were right up there in the snow, Truckee is a little hill town and my immediate thought, on getting off the bus, was to stay for a couple of hours and walk around but the local bus was leaving for Lake Tahoe now. OK I will have to come back this way anyway. Half an hour later I was right outside Hostel Tahoe in Kings Beach, the bus drivers here go out of their way to help you and he dropped me off, even though there was no bus stop. The hostel had only been open for 6 months; it was small and homely having just been renovated by the owner Andrew who greeted me and showed me to a 4 bed dorm with no one in it but me, I was in Tahoe had a great place to stay and pretty soon I’d have the ski’s on and I’d be up the mountain, things were looking good.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Nowhere is all bad of course, I was in a new country with lots to do and lots of places to go. I’d been in this hostel for 10 days and was feeling comfortable with the place and the people here. Dave, 50 something was a runaway like me but was reluctant to go back to Chicago to face the music. He didn’t say much about what happened; only that he ended up on the street and was going to be getting a divorce. He got himself together a bit and was now back in his home state, just waiting for the nasty divorce to happen. Dave was the Californian I’d been meeting over the years in my travels, a likable easy going guy who had, had enough of all things material and was waiting to be free so he could move on. He wanted to go do some volunteer work somewhere but it had only reached the thinking stage. We had some things in common Dave and I, just a couple of bums on the street. Carl the big black dude, 40 something, chin tucked in, chest sticking out, probably ex military, he rolled in here about 10 years ago from New York and was now working the reception and doing a karaoke night every Wednesday, I caught 2 karaoke nights while I was there and Carl was the only person I saw get up on the mike, it was all his gear and he was goooooood baby. He was a straight in your face kind of a guy, that’s how it is man, you don’t like that, I can’t help you son! Emily 1, 40 something, a Londoner with an American father and was able to work here, was trying her hand at living in the States, so far she had just managed a few days a week at the hostel but she was paying her way. Emily was a bit abrupt and tended to rub people the wrong way, I don’t know why that is, she said,…. you can’t leave that lying there, you need to get up and move that right now….! A black lady with an English accent, she will do OK. Elinor, 60 something, another run away, she left her rich husband in Boston to come over here to paint and get a gallery to show off her paintings, she would disappear for a couple of days at a time and on her return would inform everyone she’d been up in Santa Monica shopping and would have something new on, it was always pink. She showed me one of her paintings, it was very pink, I’m good aren’t I, she said, errr! Yes Elinor very good, she packed her bags one day and was on her way back to Boston, she got to the airport, changed her mind and came back. 4 hours later I walked in and there she was. I just couldn’t do it, she said, he wants me to go back but I just couldn’t do it. Good onya Elinor get him to send the Limo. Alison, 20 something was the self appointed social director, she knew where to go what to do and when to do it. She was going to be around for the summer and any one she came across, was going to party, whether they liked it or not. A big, larger than life girl and with her side kick Emily 2, would collect all the strays in the hostel and show them around town. I managed one night and decided I really was getting old; maybe I’ll just stay home and have some coco. There was Yoshi the Japanese manager, who never smiled, Joe and his mate downstairs on the street that I got to know a little, Manolito and Javier in the Mexican market round the corner. I will no doubt be down that way again before too long, some of these people I hope to run into again. Vegas only lasted a couple of nights before upsetting everyone there and got thrown out in the end, if he is still alive, I might even run into him, I will avoid him if I can. L.A. had sucked me in, shook me around and spat me out but I was ready for THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. It was time to get on the greyhound and head for San Francisco.

I am…. THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Imagine

I woke up the following morning and went straight to the hole in the wall to get some US dollars. There was 500 dollars missing! Shit! I’d been so knackered the day before, I’d gone to bed without thinking about much other than sleep. I’d left my jeans on the floor with my wallet in the pocket, I was in a room with 5 other guys…stupid…What to do? take a deep breath, go for a walk and think, did I use that card in Fiji? still a bit jet lagged, I decided if someone was able somehow to get at my money they couldn’t get any more until tomorrow, I probably used the card along the way somewhere although I couldn’t remember where. I walked up the Boardwalk to Santa Monica, trying to shut out any thoughts of ending up on the street, with the rest of the homeless, the only thing that separates us is, I got money in the bank. In that one day I passed 4 camera crews, shooting a scene for some movie or TV show, recognising one actor being prepared with make up, although I wouldn’t have a clue who he was. I was back in the hostel late afternoon and met Adam in the next bed, he was up from San Diego looking for work, with no work and a card to buy weed, he was making a few extra bucks selling his wares. What can I say I’d had a strange day, a bit of medication wouldn’t hurt….I could feel the black dog approaching…..The next morning I walked up to Santa Monica again and stuck the card in the wall to get a balance…..F…. another 300 missing. OK, now I have to do something. There was a pub down the road which I’d been told by a Canadian girl I’d met in Fiji, I should go to, she had worked there, and said the owner was English and liked bikes. I was in a bit of a panic and not thinking straight, went into the pub saw Peter, explained the situation and could I possibly use his phone to call the bank in Australia, oh! and Catarina sends her regards. Peter, was very gracious and rang the number which was on the back of the card and I was speaking with someone at the bank. According to our records sir, you have only taken out 100 dollars,so why do I have two balances here telling me otherwise I asked, oh don’t worry the banks in America can’t work it out, I wasn’t convinced but she assured me it was the case. OK all cool I can relax, pint of Kilkenny please, as I sat down next the the black dog.

The next few days, I did a lot of walking around the streets, trying to feel right, in this vast city, every time I turned a corner I’d look up and I was in the same long  wide street I’d just left. The traffic, the same square concrete buildings, one after the other, over and over again, no variation, the black dog walking along side me all the way. Adam had gone back to San Diego and was replaced by Vegas who burst into the room just as I arrived one day. Hey man, just got back from the medicine man, as he pulled out bottles and bottles of pills, hey what you want man? I got it all here, he put a couple of pills in his grinder,turned them to powder, put out a line, quick snort, punching the bed and turning purple. A few seconds later, he was talking at 100 miles an hour with his body jerking and bouncing around like a jumping bean Thanks young fella! I think I’ll pass, the black dog sitting on my shoulders, I picked up the laptop, something was wrong it wouldn’t start up. Hey Vagas you know anything about computers? yeah man, I know all about computers,..wink -wink, nudge -nudge… give it here, he pulls out the battery gives it a shake and starts it up, what’s your password? errr! that’s OK son, alarm bells ringing in my head, I’ll take it back now thanks. Now not knowing much about the electronic age, I began to conjure up all kinds of things in my mind…could he have copied my hard drive etc, etc ,etc. The mind can fuck with you, the heart tho’ is true and will always guide you…if your prepared to listen…. I went through all my stuff to make sure nothing was missing and noticed a pin prick in the chip on my visa. The mind was fucking with me right now! None of my other cards had a hole in it, I started to think about Identity theft which seems to be the new crime wave here, according to every thing I read. I was stupid those first few days, leaving myself vulnerable and I was paying the price… paranoia?… maybe!… I rang the bank again, to find out if some one was able to get personal  information from the chip, yes but only your name, address, date of birth, etc, etc. I think that was a yes! I’d reported my suspitions I could do no more.

OK we were ready to leave but I guess I have to go see the big sign, it’s part of the rules right? if your in L.A. you must go to Hollywood. The bus from Venice takes you to Santa Monica Boulevard where you change for the 15 or so miles along the said blvd, to get to the big sign and the Hollywood hills. We were thinking more about getting to San Francisco than going to Hollywood, a couple of day’s to go and we’d be on our way. Just coming into Beverly Hills, a black guy gets on the bus and sits directly opposite me, he’s clutching his bag and having a bit of a conversation with himself….Motherfucking whore of a slut, who you think you is boy, sittin there when all the shit goin down out there, what the fuck you know any god damn way, what the fuck is it about anyway?…….Whatcoo talkin bout motherfucker, I were no where near the bitch at the time yo talkin about. Sheeeet man! I half way outa town at that time…….. It’s when they start answering themselves back, I start worrying, then you got two mentally troubled gentlemen to deal with! No one else in the bus was paying any attention, even though all could hear the rantings of a mad man, its just  a normal day out in Hollywood. The bus stopped at the bus stop, the ranting stopped, the bus started up again, the ranting started again,I probably shouldn’t have smiled at all but it seemed a bit funny at this point, maybe this was when I upset him, when I could no longer ignore him, looked him straight in the eye and smiled. A young boy with his girlfriend  was taking it all a bit personally and wanted to plant him but the more sensible  girlfriend held him back. No it was me he had his sights on, It was time for me to get off the bus, I stood up, our friend stood up and stood right in my space, hand in the bag, looking at me right in the eye, I had no where to go, so I looked him in the eye right back. He’d stopped ranting, we stood looking into each others eyes without a word probably for about 5 seconds, I saw nothing in those eyes, just black holes, a deep cavern. Icouldn’t see any thing but I sensed anger, along with fear but no violence. I was waiting for his next move, it came, he stood to one side and let me pass, I looked down at the black dog as we were getting off the bus, he looked up at me and shook his head, we didn’t look back, instead I looked up at the big white sign, in my mind I could see Eric Burdon on stage with Alan Price and Chad Chandler, pumping out, WE GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE IF IT’S THE LAST THING WE EVER DO’OOOO. I wasn’t gonna make it in Hollywood! We walked down Hollywood Boullivard, saw the stars on the sidewalk, got the next bus back to Venice Beach to start organising a trip to San Fran and Tahoe.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

The homeless and the Stoned

I had just seen Jim, Ravina and the kids in Brisbane, it was a coincidence that we were going to be in Fiji at the same time. When I got back from my trip around the Island I dropped into the Sheraton to see them, just a couple of High Felling boys living the life, a long way from Geordieland. I headed back to my little place up the road, I was having a beer, watching the sun go down when I heard the purist Geordie accent I had heard in a long time, where ever you go you’re sure to see a Geordie. So I met Michelle a young lady who had embarked on a journey of discovery herself after a tough few years. Gan canny hinny with a heart as big as yours anything is possible.

It was time for the USA and I have to say, I wasn’t that excited about getting there, Route 66 was waiting though and it’s always been a dream to cruise the highways and byways of the US. Jack Kerouac, Easy Rider, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendricks, The Wild One, Haight Ashbury, If your going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair and on and on and on. The influences are many and I just knew, one day I would have to go and see for myself. More recent, mostly political US influences though, put a more negative slant on the trip, so I will have to try to ignore that.

Arriving at L.A,X 11 hours before leaving Fiji had me in a bit of a spin, got the shuttle into town and changed buses to Venice Beach. The change in buses saw a change in passengers which gave me some idea about the place I was about to be living in. When I got to the hostel, it was like arriving into the third world. The hostel was more like a doss house compared to what I’d been used to in OZ but that was OK I’ve been in a lot worse in my time. There was a guest list of regulars more my age rather than young backpackers, the backpackers that did turn up there, tended to stay for one night and move on. Walking out the front door, the first thing you saw were three homeless guys that had taken up residence in an alcove, they slept there at night and during the day they would sit holding up a bit of cardboard with the message…To Ugly to Prostitute, To Stupid to Steal. They were three of many homeless people all around Venice, Santa Monica, in fact every where I went, what with them and everyone who gave you a smile expecting a hand out I was beginning to wonder about the land of the free, the home of the brave. It was going to be difficult to ignore the negatives! I went for a walk along the boardwalk, lots of activity, street theatre, skaters, more beggers, the smell of dope everywhere. There are little shops all along the boardwalk where for 40 dollars you can fill out a form, get a card and buy from that same shop up to an ounce of Marijuana. Medical Marijuana, the Drug stores take care of the heavier drugs, and if they’re not good enough for you, there is always Crystal Meth from the street dealers. Just keep the poor people stoned and everything will be alright, if they start giving you trouble, lock them up. I had a couple of beers at one of the restaurant/bars along the way and I was ready to collapse.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Hitchhikers

Travelling east meant crossing the Pacific, so might as well throw in a Pacific Island eh! Fiji seemed the obvious choice, the cheapest flight I could get to L.A. was with Pacific Airways which just happens to stop in Nadi, in Viti Levu, the biggest of the Fijian Islands. I arrived at 5am to three blokes in skirts strumming guitars and although exhausted, already knew I was going to like it here, it took me no time at all to slow down to Fiji time, it is after all my natural state to go slow. There was some one going to pick me up but he wasn’t in a hurry, so I sat around for an hour waiting. He sauntered along and took me to the hotel where I immediately went to sleep.

I was surprised to see that there was very little development and the area I was staying  was pretty run down. I was in the poor tourist area but venturing into town showed me it was also the case there. There was a bit of reclaimed swamp, south of Wailola beach, where I was staying, that’s where all the big resorts are, catering for the package tourist with golf courses and everything you could wish for. I was expecting Fiji to be a tropical island paradise, with crystal clear waters, white sandy beaches, dancing girls in grass skirts and grass huts with hammocks hanging outside. The small outer islands, are exactly that but have been developed that way for the paying guests. I was more interested in the main island I was on and didn’t bother to venture out, I was only here for a week so decided to hire a car and drive around Viti Livu. It is Green and mountainous with sugar cane growing up the slopes, the roads are incredibly bad with pot holes everywhere, wouldn’t want to be riding a bike here. All the towns I passed through were poor and dirty and the Indians have a monopoly on all the business which dosn’t go down well with the indigenous Fijians. The country in the north west where the road gets even worse, runs through little villages with a huge river running alongside, this was the area that caught my attention most. I picked up a few Fijians along the way, it was a Sunday and they were all on their way to church, all in their Sunday best. I picked up one young lad who insisted I come and see a cave in one of the villages, he got a paraffin light set up and off we went. He showed me where his ancestors used to club neighbouring villagers to death before eating them… we don’t do that now though, not since the lord came and showed us it was wrong….hallelujah brother…I went through Suva the capital which is a modern and bustling city, passed through the coral coast where I spent the night and met a very interesting Fijian gentleman who introduced himself as Arthur, you know he said, like the King, he had worked around the world and was very articulate, he told me many stories about Fiji, it’s past, cannibalism, the present time and how he thought Fiji would progress.

It was this gentleman that gave me a true perspective of Fiji.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Me and Jack in Lembongan

Toni took me down to get the train, now I was beginning to realise I was no longer mobile. I had it all worked out though, stay on the train till I get to Vulture Street Station, come out the station, turn right down Vulture Street, walk for about a kilometre, Brisbane Backpackers on the right, easy… The first mistake was getting off at Central, couldn’t find a Vulture Street…Should have gone one more…looked at the train map in the station, no Vulture St. They changed the name to South Bank without informing the internet, so of course the internet didn’t inform me. Anyway I got to South Bank walked out the station, where the F… is Vulture St? Cities can be a challenge when you don’t know them, I got to where I was going eventually, as always and got settled in. Rang my old mate Jim who I went to school with all those years ago and arranged a meet a few days later, to have a drink and a catch up, I had already arranged my ticket to Bali, that was easy but America was a different matter. I needed a return ticket but I wasn’t returning, I had 3 months but wanted to stay 6, in the end I had to buy a ticket from New York to London for the end of the three months which I will need to change, at an exorbitant price, at a later date and after 3 months will have to go somewhere for a holiday to get another 3 months. Oh! the trials and tribulations of the jet setter!

It was great to catch up with Jim and his family and I ended up staying at their place, before shooting off to see ma boy. After emailing my Brother Pete for something, I also discovered he was going to be in Bali that week, I was obviously meant to be going west for a spell. I’d hummed and har’d about whether I should be so extravagant but seeing Jack in Lembongan, getting on with the local boys so well and the welcome I got from him, made it all worthwhile. Then when I saw Pete in Bali and he said keep it hush, coz Julie doesn’t know yet but we are going to renew our wedding vows tonight, well some things are just meant to be. I also got to see my old mate Oka at his home, Legian Inn, who I didn’t think I’d be seeing for a long time, so all in all a good decision.

I got back to Brisbane after 10 days. Next stop Fiji.

I am…. THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling west on this occasion….BE HAPPY!

Goodbye Old Friend

I had been watching the weather forecast and the day came for me to move on, 25 degrees with beautiful blue skies, I was Queensland bound. In 1974 I arrived in Australia for the first time and headed for Sydney. Not  long after that, I met a crazy young lady with enough energy for two people, we got on well and became good friends. She was fortunate to meet a very special fella that steered her away from the craziness of Sydney in the seventies. I was on my way to catch up with Toni and Philip at their place in Maroochy River, on the Sunshine coast. The ride was fantastic, in the dream it was like this everyday but in reality, I’d probably had about a week of good riding weather, on the whole trip so far, I was enjoying every kilometre. There wouldn’t be many more, as I was coming to the end of the Australian leg of this journey, the bike had been for sale on the Internet without any response, so I was thinking I’d better find a bike shop somewhere. Passing through Maroochydore there it was….We Buy Bikes For Cash…I wanted nine, I’d have been happy with eight,I thought the shop would offer about five, so was pleasantly surprised when they offered $6,750. Only problem was it had to be right now. A quick call to Toni and she was on her way to pick me up and the trusted Triumph was gone, the last of the STUFF! I was on foot. I spent the week with Philip and Toni, they really are a joy to be around, it’s like they just met yesterday the way they get on, not the empty Nester’s they are, after 5 kids. It was Phil that made it possible for me to do this writing by sorting out the site for me, one of these days I might even develop it more, who knows? Toni has her own thing going, check her site out and maybe get involved with her 30 day gratitude challenge, her web site is http://www.30daygratitudechallenge.com/ I did a bit of work around the place to help out and every evening Toni and I would drive down to the ocean and meet Phil from work to go for a dip. I lived on the beach for years in Perth but had forgotten how to enjoy the beach and the ocean, It was a great week for me. I’d discovered my son Jack was going to be in Noosa Lembongan for 10 days, I hadn’t seen him for about 12 months, so decided to make a detour and fly to Bali  and have a beer with him before heading any further east.

So off to Brisbane to get organised.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!