Jerry´s World

P n J`s Adventures of Ethiopia

2009-03-25T16:10:00.024Z

Typical Ethiopian Scene

P n J`s Adventures of Ethiopia

“Where is your registration? “ The Sudan immigration were none too impressed with us.
“Fifty dollars or no stamp! No leave Sudan! “This wasn`t a bribe. This was official. So much red tape in Sudan! I had an idea……… We could try and cross the little stream separating Sudan from Ethiopia and see what they say over in Ethiopia.

It's not only Madonna adopting in Africa

Crossing this stream was not only the simple matter of crossing from one country into another. It was more like traversing continents, planets even. Sudan had seemed more like a part of Arabia in its culture, language. The people (this is true for the parts of Sudan we visited – the North) were not black and even the deserts breath the word Arabia. Officially Peter and I had been in Africa a month, but only now, arriving in Ethiopia, did it finally feel like it.

Finally in AFRICA!!!

The young immigration officer was dressed in jeans and fashionable jacket. He seemed coy, shy even. We tell him The Sudan are trying to “illegally“get fifty dollars off each of us. Can he please just give us our stamp and let us through. His brow dropped, and we tell could tell he was brooding over this tough question. It took 20 minutes and two officers to comply, but finally, they ever so kindly turned a blind eye to our lack of exit visas and stamped us in. “Enjoy the festival“.

Timkat festival gets underway

One of the biggest annual parades, Timkat, was taking place everywhere in Ethiopia. This meant it was difficult to travel today, so we enjoyed the festivities in nearby border town Shehidi. A couple of local school teachers showed us around their village, their school and introduced us to some of their students.

Local teachers and their school

We tasted local beer; somehow Peter and Mike managed to drink a whole pint. Then the teachers introduced us to the local food: Injeera. Later, for reasons of appearance, we came to nickname it “Towel“.

Peter unimpressed by "Towel"

The next day we headed to Gonder, the ancient capital of the kingdom. A month of grotesque fuul, and now towel! Peter had had enough. He drags me and Mike into a western restaurant. At these Ethiopian prices, neither of us put up a fight. Like in western restaurants we were served bread as an accompaniment to our meals. Mike proceeded to consume all his, then mine, then Peter`s slices. We called him “Loaf“from then on.

Ancient city of Gonder

The Timkat festival was still raging wild. Thousands of people were charging up and down the streets with sticks in their hands. Exactly how you imagine it look in Africa everywhere, every day we joked. Only here without the violence, they were celebrating.

"Everyday Africa"

A year and half earlier in Sweden, Peter and I were trying to hitch from Stockholm to Gothenburg. For the last three hours of the journey we were picked up by a mother and daughter on their way to a Justin Timberlake concert. They were both super hot. On parting we exchanged Facebook details. Like with any other of the thousands of lifts I have had, I will never see them again. One night on the Facebook chat, Marta, the daughter, asks me where she should go on holiday in January. Come and visit us in Ethiopia and Kenya, I joked.

Marta

Marta and her Norwegian friend Ingunn arrive in Gonder and meet us in our hotel around noon. They are both students in Warsaw taking a sneaky 3 week break between semesters. It was so weird and exciting to see Marta again.

The Scandinavians: Marta and Ingunn

Enjoying the cheapest beer in the world?

We had been in Ethiopia three days, so we knew the lowdown. We knew where to get the best macchiato, donuts, samosas and all manners of food and drink. The most wonderful legacy any colony has left anywhere (except for the French and their baguettes in Laos) is that during the Italian occupation of Ethiopia, they introduced coffee, lattes, espressos and the beloved macchiato. You can find these massive coffee machines in every corner of the country, whether in big cities or puny villages. They serve macchiato. And at such a negligent price, I think we had at least 10 a day each.

Our beloved MACCHIATO

Draft beer was also the cheapest on the continent, and though Marta and Ingunn must have been jet lagged, we partied all through the night on local beer, until it was time to board the 5am bus north. We were off on a camping and trekking expedition to the Simian Mountains.

The Simians

A convoy of 5, we became 6 when we met Jurgen the German. Jurgen is the type of traveler who is bred to cope with the demands and trials of Africa. He doesn’t rush anything, often he could stay in one village for over a month. This was his second visit to the area and if you saw him from a distance with his backpack on, you would think he had been walking the earth for over 10 years.

Jurgen

Our Kalashnikov wielding guide

Good. We now had someone with us in the mountains who knew had to survive – in this instance make a fire and cook. We had a guide, but he didn`t speak a word of English. He was merely there to show us the way and protect us with his Kalashnikov against any human or animal attacks.

Scenes from the Simians

The region is famous for its roaming baboons. They can found be sitting there in families of 50 or so, chewing on things they find in the ground. We saw hundreds of them. We were on a three day, two night trek and the hours upon hours of arduous up and down trekking were made pleasant because of the terrific panoramas offered almost every step of the way.

Baboons

Because we were at a high altitude it took hours to boil water for making rice, pasta and tea. Every night around the camp fire, over a hearty meal prepared for solely by Jurgen, we scoffed our faces, giggled and chatted until the wood was all burnt out, when we`d creep into our tents and go to sleep. Or try to. Even though we had rented extra sleeping bags, the temperatures at night were below freezing. We were divided into two tents, I, with the girls, so I got to snuggle up all night to Marta. The giggles carried on through the night.

More scenes from the Simians

Back down the mountains we now had to organise to get ourselves to Bahar Dar. Usually this means going to the bus station at a ridiculous time in the morning, 4 or 5am, then waiting around for hours for it fill up twice over.

Buses regularly breakdown

Crossing Crocodile Creek

Aside from being a picturesque town on the shores of Lake Tana, there were two special reasons for being there. Nearby Blue Nile falls, spectacular water fall a few kilometers from the source of the Nile. The source then, being the other attraction.

Chartering a boat

To see it you have to charter a little boat across Tana, on the way visiting one of the centuries old island Monasteries. At the source it is possible to see Hippos, but it was getting late, so we had to head back into the sunset, for which we were prepared with a beer each in hand.

Monastery on the Island

At the monastery

Apart from a very brief Italian occupation, Ethiopia is one of the few countries in the world to have little influence from the outside world and so it has kept many of its traditions. It was only now the millennium, for example. Where we measure time according (roughly) to the sun being at it peak height in the sky marking the 1st hour (afternoon – 1pm) the Ethiopians mark hour one as the first hour they arise in the morning.

Blue Nile Falls

When we were told the bus to the nations capital - Addis Ababa - was leaving at 10 o'clock the next morning we were delighted. It was our last night with Loaf, so we could party the night away. Until we realised it was 10am local time. That's 4am to you and me. Suddenly everyone felt sick. Sorry Loaf, it was probably the Towel. See ya in a few years...................

Blue Nile Falls

Peter`s brother Simon was married to Chloe Webber. Chloe`s parents lived and worked for the EU in Addis Ababa. There is a massive expat community here, and somehow or other, it seems to all revolve around the Hilton hotel. It was there we would meet the Webbers.

Blue Nile Boys

They took us under their wing. We went on a driving tour of the city visiting such places as Merkel square, famously the practice grounds for the next “great Ethiopian runner“. We visited their house, where thanks to Peter`s brother Simon, the washing machine was on high alert. So yes, when we met them in the Hilton, the four of us had arrived there, scruffy as we are anyway, but also with bags of filthy laundry!

Ethiopia's capital - Addis Ababa

Next, it was time to visit the night life. The Webbers had been here for almost 4 years. They knew everyone and everywhere. We started the evening back at the Hilton. It was happy hour. All night they wouldn`t let any of us buy a single drink. They very kindly paid for everything, including the Chinese meal we had. The evening was topped off with a visit to a local bar where all kinds of traditional dance and music were performed including the miraculous ability to vibrate ones chest in the same way a hummingbird can flap its wings.

Our Hotel "Itague Taitu" in Addis

During one of those awkward farewells kisses where you’re not sure whether to shake hands, hug, kiss; if you kiss, is it just one side? if so which side first? In the mayhem of saying goodbye to Mrs. Webber, I kiss her not once, but TWICE on the LIPS. I quickly looked over at her husband to offer some kind of an apology, but luckily he didn`t see. I think I caught a disgusted glance from Peter: “I can`t take you anywhere“, he seemed to say!

The kindly, wonderful Webbers

Before we left Addis we paid a visit to the National Museum. Outside it we found ourselves humming the Beatles tune: “Lucy in the sky with diamonds“.
Some decades ago in a desert part of Ethiopia, archeologists had made a discovery that would change the history books. On human’s incessant quest to find out where we came from, one piece of the puzzle had just been pieced together. The remains of a millennia old bipod, a little girl remains. At the time in the camp, the Beatle song was playing on the radio. She became known to world as “Lucy“.

Lucy

Then to while away the afternoon, the girls went shopping, while Peter and I went on a horse ride in the nearby hills. Among the chance of spotting a hyena, Peter was desperate to spot a bird which had evaded him (but not me -hah) back in the Simians’: the Lammergeyer – a large bearded vulture.

On the way up the hill we saw these poor young girls carrying heavy loads

Peter galloping in hunt of a Lammergeyer

I have a condition. My simple way of life means that I view economics and mathematics thus: the less I spend = the longer I last. Often if I am to treat myself to something as basic as a “nice“ hotel, or a “nice“ restaurant, rather than a dive and local muck; I have to build myself up to do it. More often, just thinking that I will do it is enough, that later I can back out, but still having derived some kind of pleasure, merely because at one point for whoever long (a day, an hour?) I had conceded to doing it. And so while the others are having a last night in town meal in Ethiopia’s best restaurant (an 8 dollar meal perhaps), where royalty and Brad Pitt have frequented, I am scavenging the street for scraps.

I might feed myself scraps, but when Marta is sick - It's breakfast in bed!

Our aim was now to get to the Kenyan border. Though only a short distance away it would take us 3 days to get there. On the way we stopped for the night in small villages where they hardly ever spotted a “Ferangi“, foreigner. Peter reported that on returning from the shops, one kid had skipped all the way home with him, chanting the word: “ferangi, ferangi, ferangi, ferangi...................“

Locals in the villages

When we finally reached the border, we had a dilemma. We had just enough birr (Ethiopian currency) left to spend the night and eat in Ethiopia. But the borders opened at different times which meant we would lose 2 hours the next day. Thankfully the Ethiopian border said they would stamp us out today, but let us stay until tomorrow? That seemed weird. Just to make sure we went to speak with the Kenyan official. He said we should just come on over to his wonderful country now. We explained about the money. “Fine“, he said. “Enjoy your towel (Injeera)! See you tomorrow at 07:30.

Last scrap of Towel - Injeera

Next up

P n J`s Adventures (with the Scandinavians) of KENYA

P n J`s Adventures of The Sudan

2009-03-25T16:09:00.023Z

P n J`s Adventures of Sudan

The ferry crossing from Egypt to Sudan over Lake Nasser

The ferry didnt leave Egypt for a great number of hours. We thought we had an idea of just how cramped it would get. We did not. The deck was packed elbow to elbow. And so we would lie for almost 30 hours. The alternative was to sit the whole way in the gallows which stank of petrol. Luckily we befriended a guy working on the boat who gave us his blanket. Up on deck, we burned the whole duration of the day, then we would have frozen the chill of the desert night were it not for the blanket. Neverhthless, sleep was impossible. Every few minutes the people either side of you, (by that I mean the up to ten people surrounding you) would shuffle in their sleep and this meant incessant nudges to the ankle or a digs to the ribs.

Thank goodness for the blanket

At around 5am there was a massive comotion and reshuffling of the bodies. I think I was finally dozing off, when the call (rather, shout) to prayer would blast out on the tannoy for the next half hour. And so it happened than when the ferry passed Abu Simbel temple around 7am, I was in no state to stir.

Packed elbow to elbow

The only pleasure afforded one, was an escape trip to the cafe to pick up some tea. We had made some new foreigner friends. Everyone wanted to do the rounds. Even a trip to the toilet was a delight, regardless of the stench. It meant you could stretch.

This photo is deceiving. I actually stepped up and let Peter sleep in the hammock

Finally. Sudan was approaching. We docked at Wadi Halfa in Sudans north western province. It seemed there was no transport out of the town that night. We had picked up a Canadian, Dale, and together the three of us marched out of town. Dale spends his summers planting trees in Western Canada and the rest of the year roaming the earth. He was in northern Africa to learn arabic, and so would prove useful in getting us by in this land of Arabs.

Scenes from Wadi Halfa

The locals must have been bemused at the site of three white guys, with big backpacks, strolling with the evening sunset out of town and in to the desert. We didnt really know what we were doing. We had no idea how far away the next village was. I guess being couped up on the ferry for so long meant we didnt care. We just wanted to move. Vaguely we planned to hitch hike south. Towards Khartoum.

A quick cup of Tea before we hit the road

No vehicles passed. It then got dark. We had walked some 7 or 8 km. There was no way we would head back into town. We would have to camp the night by the side of the road in this Nubian desert. We knew nothing of possible dangers: snakes or scorpions or bandits. We huddled together behind a dune and went to sleep, newly exhausted from our walk, and everyones lack of sleep on the ferry. Before drifting away, we counted a plentitude of satelites orbiting the earth. That`s how clear our desert night sky was.

Three unlikely figures walking into the unknown

It would mean nothing to tell you the road distance from Wadi Halfa to Dongola. If I told you it was three hundered kilometers, I wouldn`t expect you to understand that the journey takes two to three days. Such are the condition of the roads through Saharan Sudan.

Waking up behind our dune; our early morning view; We are never far from the Nile

Hitching this road was now a necessity. We saw no public transport for 3 days. Usually, we were picked up by trucks who were building the roads. One such driver, was refuelling water from the Nile, to be used in spraying the road during construction. We passed his village on the way, where we stopped so he could feed us and offer US gifts. In his house was nothing but the plain four walls. I wonder if he managed to feed himself that night?

Three of us Hitching; our friend the driver; filling up from the Nile; he feeds us his only food!

We arrived in the afternoon in a village of no more than 200 people. It seems that each and every household wanted us to join them in their house for tea. This part of Sudan is where the muslim Nubian people live. Converted from christianity centuries ago, one local confided in me that some of them still have Christ in their hearts. So whereas in Egypt we were afraid of striking up a conversation with a female, lest we were acting culturally inconsiderately; here, we were giggling and chatting with all the girls in the village. The children gathered around us and sang us the only song they knew in english: “Every day I brush my teeth, brush my teeth, brush my teeth“!

Arriving in the village; some cute Nubians; singing "Everyday I brush my teeth"; Peter sings in

We are kindly invited to have tea with a lady and her children

Giggling and chatting with the Nubian girls

A local runs out from his house and shouts to us: "Come. Tea".

Our next big lift was in a 4x4. A contractor sent from Khartoum to the very north was now on his way home. We spent the next two days with him. We stop for food. He insisted on paying for all of us. This happened at every meal. For the night we stayed in a Nubian village at his friends parents house. We had arrived late in the night, but a veritable feast was prepared for the distinguished guests nonetheless.

Our very good friend who payed for everything; our luxurious 4x4 ride

Bright and early, after a veritable feast of a breakfast of course, we head to Dongola where the road splits. We were now headed inland, through the desert and away from the Nile; our driver home to Khartoum. Over a farewell lunch which we insisted that we WILL pay for, he left, then as we went to pay, found out that he had already done so in secret. The Nubians/Sudanese will be remembered always for their profound generosities. I had now been in Sudan for three days and hadnt spent so much as a cent!

Locals working in the "Nile Petroleum" gas station; me acting like a local

We arrive in the town of Karima by our first paved road in 3 days. The bureaucracy of this country was becoming more and more immense. First you remember the complications for getting the visa in Egypt, which already at 100usd is by far the most expensive in my Africa. Then we hear from some other tourists that you have to register with the police. They had paid 50usd. Outraged, we were determined to evade this cost!

On the road to Karima

I tried to check into my first hotel. “ Where are your papers“, asks the check in guy. He explained that I had to go to the local security office, register, then I could check in! Seeing as I didnt`t have my police registration, I couldn`t do that. For the rest of my time in Sudan, I will have to duck and dive all manners of authorities and sleep rough or with friends. Welcome to The Sudan!

Waking up to the Pyramids

This would be our fourth night of roughing it, only this time we were in the desert surrounded by the Pyramids of Bakur. As we were constantly reminded by the locals, indeed even in southern Egypt: “Giza isn`t the only place with pyramids you know!“
The early morning sunlight reflected a bright orange glow off the thousand year old Pyramids. Time to wake up and catch the bus to the place where the Nile splits into two: the nation`s capital Khartoum.

Our roasting bus ride to Khartoum, Peter help himself to free water

There we rejoined another Canadian friend Mike. Mike is born in Poland, but lived most his life in Toronto. He is 24 but has the wealth of knowledge of 94 year old. He is travelling for 5 years around the world and wants to return to Canada speaking 10 languages fluently.
We were now four large, sweaty, unshowered, filthy from the desert men; who were about to invade the home of a kindly Greek girl who invited us all to stay with her. Ismini works for the United Nations so we got to know a lot about the political situation in Sudan. I dont think she quite agreed with Colonol Wahid`s assessment that: “Darfur is safer than Dover“.

Mike joins our possey; Ismini bakes us a Greek treat

The main attraction, for me at least, was to visit the bridges spanning the Nile, then ultimately, where it joins/splits. South east from Ethiopia comes the Blue Nile, and from the south west in Uganda, the White Nile.
The guys weren`t intersted in walking the bridges, so we agreed to meet later at Lord Kitcheners boat. Crossing one bridge I take many fotos and videos. Then a motor gives me a lift to the next bridge. From here I take a picture of myself with the bridge in the backround. I didn`t realise but I was right next to a military barrcack, and one of the soldiers was shouting at me to come over.

Advertising on the Nile; sunset from a bridge; where the Nile splits into two: White and Blue

He is very suspicious of me, and as I try to show him the innocence of the foto, he shouts: “Delete, Delete“!! I tried to explain that I wasn`t photgraphing the barrack. “Look, only the me and the Bridge“, I exclaimed.

Things start to get more hectic. Soon I am surrounded by half a dozen heavily armed military. My concern now was they didn`t try to take my camera and accidentally delete all the fotos. At that moment a guy in civilian clothes pulls up to the bridge on a motorcycle. I thought he was my ally asking them to give me a break. Then he lead the charge. He was more at unease with me than the soldiers.

Lord Kitcheners boat

The military seemed to recognise this guys authority, as, when he commands me to get on his bike to whisk me away, the soldiers dont interfere. “Where are we going I asked him“.
“Downtown“, he replies ominously. Still I felt safer with this guy than back on the bridge. At any point I could jump of this bike and run for it. Who was this guy? Where the hell was he taking me? Was he just trying to steal my camera somehow?We pull up beside an official government buiding. The sign reads: The Republic of The Sudan National Itelligence and Security Agency. “Are you like..........the American version of the C.I.A.“, I asked. The reponse was affirmative. Somehow I now felt safer. All I would have to do now, is go in there and convince them I`m not a spy. No problem.

"The" photo that almost got me a mock execution

Whilst maintaining that I wasn`t taking fotos of the military compound, I started to show them more pictures. Ones I`d taken of the bridge from the other bridge and pictures of the other bridge. Bridge, bridge, bridge, me, bridge, me, me and bridge. See. Tourist photos. I`m a toursit!

This is where the bureaucracy started to become absurd. It turns out this is exactly the problem. To take ANY photos in The Sudan, one must have a permit. Once you receive the permit, there is a list of things on it that even with the permit are strictly forbidden. The list goes on and indicates mainly buildings of government or military importance, but the only thing that is written in CAPITAL LETTERS at the very top of the list is: BRIDGES.

Commiting a felony, the ultimate criminal photograph: a bridge

Who am I? Have I been to Israel? Am I a terrorist? What am I doing in Sudan? Am I a reporter? (they had never seen a camera like mine before). Then the dreaded question: Passport?
Though it was right in my pocket I had to lie and tell them it was in the Hotel. Where is my hotel? I was staying with Ismini and didn`t even know the name of a single hotel. I made one up.

Why didn`t I just show them my passport? Surely they were going to strip me down before beating me anyway right? I wasn`t registered remember. Effectively I was illegally in the country!
Then the most dreaded of things you could possibly imagine to hear in these situations: “We are going to move this interregation to another part of town“.

My soon to be interregator - torturer

No! Why! This is fine. I like it here. There is an official sign outside. Please, I thought. I don`t want to undergo a mock execution, indeed a real one in these tumultuous times in this part of the world.
“Wait a second, wait a second. Maybe we can clear this up another way“.
I produced from my pocket a business card. White but in golden print read the name of Colonel Wahid. Wahid was the Sudan visa director back in Cairo. He had given me his card so I could email him the picture we took together, plus my opinions and experiences of Sudan.

Personal friend of my BEST friend Colonel Wahid

“How do you know Colonel Wahid“, their temperament immediately changed.
“We are friends“, I replied
“How good friends?“
“Very good friends, call him and see“.
His number was written on the card, but it was in Egypt and I knew they wouldn`t call it.
It turns out they knew the Colonel. They graduated through the academy together. They were now offering me tea, apologizing to me.

My freedom returned, I can visit the central square of Khartoum - a parking lot!

They let me keep all my pictures of the bridges, we even took pictures together. We had a few giggles and chats then they organised a lift for me back to the Nile where I was an hour late for meeting the boys.
“Oh Yeah, that`s why you`re late“, they exclaim none too impressed with my tardiness.
More stories and fuul and falafel were exchanged back at Isminis place. Poor Peter. Where I had promised him new culinary delights, we were confronted with not only the exact same food as in Egypt, here it was even worse. Of course Khartoum has all manners of wordly cuisine, but not when you`re affording yourself only local muck.

Our last night in Sudan together

The next morning we bade farewell to Dale, he was to remain in Sudan, thanked Ismini for her immense hospitality and the three of us, Mike, Peter and I headed to Ethiopian border.
Our only problem now: to get out of Sudan. Get past immigration without our registration papers.
For all we knew, they could imprison us, fine us heavily or what. We would find out early the next morning.

Coming up next in

“P n J (and M later to be L)`s adventures of Ethiopia

P n J`s Adventures of Egypt

2009-03-25T16:04:00.029Z

P n J`s adventures of Egypt

They really are this close to the city

No one will ever believe this, but I invented the Cairo to Cape Town idea. It was solely based on a cheap flight in; and (for its distance) a relatively cheap flight out.
Of course, in this thinking, there existed the alternative of ferrying somewhere into Morroco, but then to get to South Africa, there were too many countries, which meant too many costly visas.

Rocking in 2009 - Champagne style

And so it was that Peter and I land in Cairo airport the day before New Years Eve. This was no accident. Megan, an American friend working for SMILE (an international charity) had been invited to party into 2009 at the luxurious apartment of the German Ambassadors home. We had been invited too.

Megan the American charity organiser, Frank the Ambassador

Upon arrival the first thing I notice is the magnificent buffet spread. In the kitchen, a servant, was serving beer and a variety of every alcoholic drink. I helped with the midnight champagne distribution. From the high rise appartment we could see fireworks over the town of Cairo.

At and (this last one) ON the Pyramids

The notion of welcoming in the New Year on a camel, circling the Pyramids, was met, regardless of hangover. Peter rented a horse, me a camel. This way we could swap and have done both. We arrived late, so there was noboby but us around. I had never expected to see a living ancient wonder of the world so bare of tourists. We were even afforded the chance to climb up on them.

Megans friends Amanda and Jennifer; our friends the horse and camel

Later we played trivial pursuit with some of Megans friends: Jennifer and Amanda. So far everything of Egypt had been expat for us. No bother, tomorrow we would visit one of the mightiest rivers in the world: The Nile; then the famous museum housing old king Tut and the Ramsis mummies.

The Egyptian Museum including Tutankahmoun; the mighty Nile

Before heading South to Cape Town, a very necessary detour had to be undertaken. We had to pass underneath the Suez canal, and cross into the Sinai peninsular. What was once occupied by Israel, but now Egyptian once more, it was time to go on a biblical pilgrimage.

Red Sea Dahab ( the moutains back right are Saudi Arabia)

Of the millions of tourist that yearly visit Sinai, the objective is an all too easy, almost boring one. To chillax on the beaches of Sharm El Sheik and snorkel or dive in the Red Sea. We too wanted a piece of the action, but opted for the much more laid back Dahab, where we could snorkel for 5 dollars and stay for even less, just across the bay from Saudi Arabia. To hell with the million dollar resorts of Sharm!

Peter barters with a local

That was until I got a late email from my sister saying that she was going on a holiday to Sharm the very next day. “I don`t know where in Africa you are Jeremiah, but tomorrow I will be in Sharm. If you`re in the area, try and stop by.“

Stanzi and Kieran fly in (note the blue wrist band)

Only 65km away, this meant we could at least SAMPLE luxury. Of course this meant ruining Stanzi and Kierans first few days away. This was a necessary evil, which ultimately benefited them. Okay, I admit, we turned up, crashed their romantic pad, drank all you can drink, not exactly at their expense, but this was conditioned to not being caught.

Totally unprepared, we wisely all invest in a balaklava

Everyone in this resort had a wristband. Simple. Peter and I would roam freely around their resort with long sleeves. This must have been most suspicious when the next morning at the buffet (where of course we went to town!) in its already sweltering heat, everyone was dressed in beach gear. We were in our jumpers. It was time to eat and run. Only we would take the lovers with us.

Quick midnight nap

“You`re leaving the hotel you paid for, where you have three wonderful meals a day, all you can drink at night, and you havent even seen your private beach yet. Instead, you will take two local bus journeys for a few hours with us, pay for a new hotel, only you wont even stay there!
Rather you will have a nap there, but just after midnight, you will both awaken, and without the proper apparel ( after all, they packed for the beach) come on an arduous climb up to the peak of a mountain, where we will wait in the freezing cold for the sun to rise. Only then are you free to go back to your resort“.

Sinai sunrise; brushing up on the TEN COMMANDMENTS

At least that must have been what they heard. In reality I was giving them the chance to do something exciting. This mountain after all was not like any other. It was the self same mountain where Moses himself received the TEN COMMANDMENTS from GOD.

4 heroes; the church atop JABEL MUSA aka Mt Sinai

Shattered and shivering, the two lovers reach the peak, but because we had been so quick at summiting, we had to wait a long time for the sunrise. But it was a clear night and day so all worthwhile. On the way down in the St Katharine Monastery you could find the BURNING BUSH, where God first appeared to Moses. It is still there today some 5000 years later!

Mt Sinai; the burning bush inside St Katherine Monastery

The lovers return to Sharm while Peter and I part hitchhike back to Cairo through the Suez canal. There was one last important thing we had to do in the Egyptian capital before we left. Get our visas for Sudan. Or at least try.

Hitching in arabic?; Shisha with the road workers; Peter explains Darwinism to poor muslim

Often by just looking at the outside of its building, you can usually determine (anywhere around the world) an American or British embassy. They are more like fortresses. An indication of just how many enemies they have.

Hectic downtown Cairo

The Republic of Ireland has never conquered or offended anyone. That is why in a discreet backlane of Cairos Zamalek district, you will find the peaceful, Irish embassy. We even met the Ambassador who said that he will wave the usual 50 dollar fee for preparing a letter needed in Peters visa application for Sudan. He turns to me and says the British embassy will probably do the same for me. They didn`t and I now know why they close themselves in with all that security. Everyone hated them, especially ME.

Hectic Downtown Cairo

A new ridiculously bureucratic system was in place. If something happened to a tourist in Sudan, they didnt want any embassies or governments to come crying to them. And so, everyone must go to their respective embassies (Peter to the Irish, me to the British) to get a letter stating that they are exempt from Sudanese culpability. It`s slightly more complex than that but thats the gist.

Hectic Nightime Cairo

I begged and pleaded. Please!!!! It is a single A4 piece of paper which you print out in 5 seconds then spend another second or so to just stamp it. Please!!! How can you charge me 50usd for that? I left in a rage. I had tried everything in there believe me. I was to meet Peter (who was coming with his free letter of invitation from his embassy) outside the Sudan embassy where we would pay the 100usd and hopefully get our visa that day – INSHALLAH. On the way I stopped to go online and check flights from Cairo to Addis Ababa. I now seriously considered skipping Sudan and going straight to Ethiopia. This had now become a matter of principle.

Some poor brit paid 50usd for this

There was one thing left to do. Beg and plead with the Sudanese Ambassador to give me the visa without this “Letter“. I was allowed to visit the second man in charge. Colonel Wahid, the director of Visas.
His first response was that I shouldnt be travelling if I couldnt afford the 50 dollars. Then he hints that now even IF I did had the “letter“, he wants extra papers from ME. Bank statments and such. I explain that I do have sufficient funds to see me in and out of Sudan, its just the principle of the letter I disagree with. 5 dollars MAYBE? 50 usd was extravagent.

Colonel Wahid

Wahid asks me questions, first about my career, then my opinion on the recent Palestine – Israeli conflict. Then what my impression of Sudan is. He adds that “Darfur is safer than Dover“!
He is then on the phone for 10 minutes or so. When he hangs up he looks casualy my way, almost smirks, then scribbles something on a piece of paper, tells me to go downstairs, pay the 100usd. I would have my visa! Wahid gives me his business card, we take fotos and I profusely thank him.

"City of the Dead" where a million people live in a cemetery

Peter and I will now board the train south, both with our visas in our pockets gleaming with relief as the train criss-crosses the lush greens of the valley carved out by millenia of the flowing waters of the Nile making life possible for millions in this land of what in every other direction lie the harsh terrain and sands of the formidable SAHARA.

Felucca ride across the Nile

We made Aswan our last Egyptian stop. The weekly ferry to Sudan across lake Nasser leaves every Tuesday. We would spend the weekend in Aswan. This way we could take a Felucca ride on the river Nile, and visit some sites, like the Coptic Christian church.

Aswan city gate; Coptic christian church; Aswan Mosque

Apart from the reprise of Stanzi`s “Resort Buffet“ we had afforded ourselves the same meal over and again, morning noon and night: fuul and falafel. Our last night in Egypt, Peter says he cant manage anymore. “One more day Peter. Then we can taste the delights Sudan has to offer“.

Fuul, the foodstuff Peter hates; exotic spices; drinking sheesha with some locals

Before boarding the ferry, we make a dash visit to the famous monstrosity that is the Aswan High Damn. Now we board the ferry and wait to set sail for one of Earth`s most notorious lands: SUDAN

Aswan high Damn; the ferry across lake Nasser to SUDAN

N.B. The desire to climb mount Sinai (Jabel Musa) because its mentioned in the Bible, is just as ridiculous as wanting to go to India to sit under a tree where Buddha was enlightened. They are just romantic notions. Nothing more.

Next up: P n J`s adventures of Sudan

Arctic Nights and Northern Lights

2008-12-15T09:30:00.048Z

"What is the most northern town in the world", asked Peter. He was reading out the geography question on a Trivial Pursuit card.

"No idea", I replied. "Ehr, Reykjavik", I then threw out as a desperate guess!

"Nope, some place called HAMMERFEST".

Where in the hell could that be, we both wondered.

It would take another 13 years before I knew EXACTLY where Hammerfest was.

A few summers ago the three Sarsfield brothers ventured on a little trip to Norway. There was no real plan. Just rent a car and drive north, visiting fjords and glaciers along the way.

In a town called Mo i Rana we saw on the map that we were really close to the Arctic Circle. We went to the little museum there and had our passports stamped. But best of all, we got to see the MIDNIGHT SUN. It was June and the sun doesn't set here for a good few weeks.

Does that mean that in December the sun doesn't rise for a few weeks? To find out I would have to go back. In WINTER!

My journey began in Copenhagen. After dealing with some business I had with a local Mayor, I stayed with some friends and we visited the Viking ship museum.

Shortly before crossing the Oresund Bridge between Denmark and Sweden, I felt it was my duty to stock up on beers and whiskey. In the supermarket a lady saw me messing with a marker pen and some cardboard. Not only did she know I was hitchhiking, she also knew exactly where I was going - SWEDEN. The simple act of buying alcohol was the giveaway. From here on it was government controlled SystemBolagets and Vinmonopolets.

Every time I hitch across this bridge I learn something new. This time I learnt that it was the longest border-crossing bridge in the world.......cool!

My lady dropped me in the centre of Malmø. A couple I met in Storegaten ask me if I need a place to stay. I was actually meeting and staying with someone else, but that was weird and kind.

The next day I met up with Eric in nearby Lund - famous for its university and cathedral.

I dont know if the point of this story is to tell you about how amazing my 2 months was in Scandinavia. Or just how lucky I am.
Mostly though, I think it's a tale about how generous and kind the people of Scandinavia are.
None of what I did would have been possible without help of all these people:

Twin Towns

2008-11-13T10:35:00.038Z

Welcome to Ramsgate

Arriving in any town in the UK, you will have a nice big Welcome sign, indicating the town´s name and any other towns it may be twinned with around Europe. It´s very likely that you would pass such a sign every day. Mostly, it´s the kind of thing you wouldn´t pay attention to. Indeed, can you name YOUR twin towns?

"Hugin" the Viking Ship

In the summer of 1949 a group of Danes rowed a Viking ship across the North Sea.

It was an exact replica of a ship used by the Viking´s Hengist and Horsa, who arrived in Ramsgate, (the first landing in Britain) in 449 AD. It was built in fjord town Frederikssund and was heading for Ramsgate, where it would stay, tidily marking the 1500 th anniversary of the original landing.

Hitching to Frederikssund

A mere 40km from Copenhagen, I decided it was time to pay my respects.

My objective was to take the foto: "Velkommen till Frederikssund - Tvilling med RAMSGATE StorBritannien".

To my great disappointment, no towns in Denmark have sings indicating their European twins.

I intended to go straight to the Mayor to express my concern!

WHAT! No mention of any twin!!

I headed straight for the Radhus (Town Hall) and demanded to see the Mayor. The name Ramsgate had made a couple of heads turn and before I knew it, I was pencilled in for a meeting the next day at 13:30. "Don´t be late!", they told me.

Frederikssund Town Hall

Some places in Denmark, like banks, have free coffee machines. But you have to at least go up to the desk and show interest in the day´s exchange rate or something. Town hall was no different, so I pressed the espresso button 3 times into the same cup on my way out.

Frederikssund News Office

I notice the local news office and decide to pay them a little visit too.
"You may be interested in interviewing me", I suddenly declare to the receptionist.
A completely unimpressed "And that would be because..............?" was the retort.
Before long, I´m engulfed in a two hour interview in the board room. Martine, the very nice reporter, somehow got me to pour my heart out over another 3 coffees.
I was scheduled for a shooting with the professional photgrapher the next day.

Martine breaking me down. I tell all.

I spent the night on a nearby farm, in a little house exchanging stories about the far east with Jens, a botanist, adventurer. We had a friend in common in Vladivostok.

In the evening we went for deer stew with all the local farmers, all of whom run an eco-farm.

Jens and his house

The next morning I ran the risk of hitching back to town for my 13:30 appointment. It was 11km away, but the Danes are so friendly, that I was picked up within 10 minutes by a girl coming from the city (Copenhagen) to the counrty side to go horse riding.

I hope someone picks me up or the Mayor will be angry

I checked in at 13:20. In my hand was a piece of paper with the Mayor´s name. Ole Find Jensen.

I studied it. I was unprepared, not sure what to say. I at least had to get his name right!

At precisely 13:30 I was greeted by the man himself with a handshake that only comes with authority. I sit myself in a nice big chair with a selection of drinks in front of me, then begin to try and justify why I would be wasting this great man´s time.

I think I opened with an interruption: "Have you ever been to Ramsgate"?

Frederikssund Town Hall Square

It turns out Frederikssund municipality had recently incorporated 3 new towns. Ole, who was now the Mayor for all, had not yet been to Ramsgate. This new amalgamation meant that officially Frederikssund had 20 something twins. Most of them Scandinavian, he said that eventually he would have to whittle the list down to 4 or 5. I hope that my visit ensures Ramsgate a spot. He winked that of course the Spanish town was safe. (A holiday in the sun).

Mayor Ole Find Jenson

I offered him an A4 foto of me next to the Welcome sign in Ramsgate. I apologized about the grafitti across the word "RAMSGATE", explaining that I had asked my friend Chris who works in the council to sort it out, but he didn´t. I also gave him a foto of "Hugin", the Viking ship, which sparked a conversation about the Mayor coming over in the summer of 2009, marking its 60th anniversary. He told me that he would ask his cultural department to look into hunting down any living members of the crew who originaly sailed the vessel to Ramsgate 59 years prior.

Around Frederikssund

I told him that I worked in tourism, and seeing as his wife had never been to England, I promisd that if he, his family, old crew members and any other distinguished delegates or guests came to Ramsgate the next summer, I would be their personal guide around London. I stopped short of inviting him to stay with me, remembering I didn´t have a place.

Frederikssund High Street

After my photo shoot with Finn, Martine had a buffet lunch waiting for me. I told her that I would make sure she is included on the list to visit us next year. I walked all around the town. I stopped for a pint in the local pub, and showed everyone a picture of me next to the sign. What ever kind of a reaction I was expecting from people who are in the pub at 15:00 on a Wedneday, I don´t know. Nonetheless it passed eagerly form punter to punter the whole while, me smiling so they recognise it´s me in the photo.

Sunset over Frederikssund

The sun was setting and I still had a 40km hitch to get back to Copenhagen where I would pitch my tent in the same place I always do: hippy district Christiania. There had been riots there all this week, but my spot was out of the way next to the lake.

Goodbye, and thanks for having me.

After bidding my farewells to the news team, and taking a last look at a town I have known about (at least in name) for all these years, I carry on my 2360km journey north. Scandinavian Arctic Winter, here I come!

check out the newspaper article: http://www.e-pages.dk/frederikssundavis/97

Sri Lanka

2008-05-25T14:03:00.045Z

The Sri Lankan Flag

After two arduous weeks of trekking in Nepal, followed by a week in the grime, dirt, poverty and mega hustle and bustle that is: North India; it all seemed to prove a little too much for some.

"Jerry", I was mutineed. "Take us to a beach or we're going back to Europe".

And so it happened that I was flying over the Indian ocean to an island formerly called Ceylon. This all came about as no easy feat.

One last look at India

The first problem was Michael. He would have to come back to Delhi for his flight, but only had a SINGLE ENTRY visa to India.

"Ah, don't worry about it", encouraged Mark. "Immigration wont have a clue".

After a few phonecalls to various embassies around the world, and Mark and I on his case; Micheal is finally comforted. He will attempt to re-enter India on his single entry.

Welcome in the tropics

The second problem was that very day there were shootings in the capital. The cease fire between the government and rebel Tamil Tigers had just ended.

Just when we'd found a crazily cheap flight on the internet, the girls (Lisa and Andrea) said they were no way stepping into a war zone!

To reconcile this problem, Michael bribed a guy in the hostel to tell the girls that he had just got back from there and not to believe the media hype. After bigging it up for over an hour he declared: - Sri Lanka was as safe as anywhere!!!

Two hours after touching down in Colombo airport a local guy ask us if we'd heard?

"Heard what?"

The TT had just blown up a bus of innocent men, women and children. More than 30 left dead.

"Don't let the girls know", I said.

Colombo's town hall and Buddha statue

We carefully tip-toed around Colombo's tourist sites, especially careful when around the Presidential palace, making sure we always had an escape hatched, not to get caught in any kind of crossfire.

Though Sri Lankans are predominantly Buddhist, there was a few thousand Muslims in town for a convention, which meant all the hotels in the city were full. We were forced to stay on the beach in Mount Lavinia.

Sunset beer on Lavinia beach

The train track ran along the beach full of people, not only in the carriages, but probably more people half-hanging off the high speed trains. What would seem deadly and dangerous to us - was a twice daily formailty to them!

Sunset FOOL on Lavinia beach

We made friends with the hotel owner who kept our big bags, so the 5 of us could squeeze into a rented car for an 8 day tour around the island. We had not even driven out of the car park, before a raging row breaks out between us all. "Who sits where. Who can talk to the driver. Who CAN'T talk to the driver" etc . I think most of the bickering was a mutual disliking to the RULES I had just composed! Of course, they were upheld nonetheless.

This turtle is so big it takes two to hold it up

Finally calmed, we set off for famous beach resort Hikkaduwa. Along the way was a turtle farm, made famous in a 1990 feature article in the National Geographic. The owner was a local guy who wanted to protect the baby turtles from savage dogs and poachers alike. A turtle egg can fetch a hefty sum on the black market these days.

This wasn't meant for you!!

Warning! warning! Deadly wave detected

The southern coastline was effected by the 2004 Tsunami. I would never have known unless I'd seen these new anti-tsunami detection devices.

Most of the next few days were spent, body surfing, playing beach volleyball and partying it up in the most happening place we'd come across between the Indian Ocean and the Himalayas.

But we had to make the most of the car so we plodded along.

Resting on a palm tree next to Buddha

Skirting along the south coast we come across an 80m statue of Buddha during a weekly ritual. Around the corner was a lighthouse - the islands' most southerly, and what we thought would be easy enough to find because it was written in bold on a map - A blow hole.

The southernmost point

We asked everyone in town, but no one seemed to know it, or it was 1, then 5, then 10km away. Finally, an irate Michael, winds down the window and screams at two passing innocent young girls: " BLOW HOLE". Mark has to pull away before we get arrested.

Drenched by a blow hole

Some guy we met told us to look up his hotel stashed away in the central mountain range somewhere near a town called Candy. When we got there we realised we were about to check into Honeymoon suites. So far we'd been spending a few dollars a night each. Maybe the guy could tell we were weary: "It's OK. We are friends. Very cheap"

That consoled most of them but I held my breath for the next three days. But sure enough, on checkout, he had only charged us 5 dollars a room. "Spread the word", he'd said.
The showers even had radio's in them for crying out loud. Pure Luxury!!!

Full moon at our Honeymoon mountain retreat

Everyday we ate like the locals. Rather, there were no fast food/hamburger restaurants anywhere to be seen. A favourite dish of ours was one where they chopped everything up so fast and loud, that the sound rang in your ear halfway through your meal.

A thrice daily snack - Samosa

Two hot and heavys get hot and heavy over a ginger beer

With the freedom of having our own wheels, each days activities included anything we saw on the map that looked of interest. We visited waterfalls, tea plantations, even went for a climb in the mountains.

Mark is too afraid to go under the waterfall. I try to reconcile!

No reason for this photo. Just thought Michael looked gorgeous!

On the way back from down the mountain known locally as "Little Sri Pada" we walked through a little village. At first we thought the kids there was telling us not to take fotos, they were in fact pointing out that we had decided to pose on a red ant hill. Mark writhed about in pain all the way home.

Mark summits the "Little" peak

Where is Mark?

Everynight in Candy, they do a special show for the tourists. A little dancing and singing, followed by two guys walking on red hot coals. Ouch. It is said that Buddhas tooth is kept inside a temple on the lake in Candy. I got to see the case where it was securely kept (even that only happens at certain times), but alas, to see the tooth itself, you have to come on the right day of the year.

Red hot fire walking

Buddha's Tooth

Me and two hot locals (one in body, the other in spirit)

Sri Lanka is famous the world over for its gemstones. To think that one minute we were all backpacking around on a tight budget (though I do concede from the comfort of an airconditioned self-chartered vehicle) the next: all buying gemstones. When I say all, I mean "they all". But I tricked Mark and Micheal into spending a couple thousand dollars between them, so the guy backhanded me my own little gem in appreciation.

Check out the different sized bags

Micheal and I loved it there so much that we extended our stay for another week. We beelined straight to Hikkaduwa for a week of beer and debauchery. Actually, neither of us scored once. It was "boys time" we kept pretending to ourselves.

Having a beer with some locals

Having a beer with Matt Damon

It was time to go home. Me back to the grime of Northern India, Micheal to Ireland. Or was he.

Micheal is the only dare devil hanging off this high speed train!

Going through immigration, I can't pretend I was surprised to see Micheal being dragged kicking and screaming into the office. We were there for three hours (me for moral support - my papers were in order). It went something like this:

"Maybe there is something we can work out", one minute. To: "We are deporting you on the next plane back to Colombo", the next.

We actually watched one poor crying lady being deported before our eyes. Her husband was waiting somewhere around the corner. "It's my job", the immigration officer tried to justify to a terrified Michael.

On his so called LAST CHANCE phone call to the highest officer in charge, the guy puts down the phone and shakes his head. Micheal jumps out of his chair and was going to start, AGAIN, screaming: "I DON'T CARE! I'M NOT GOING BACK TO FUXXING SRI LANKA. SHOOT ME. YOU CAN SHOOT ME!!!!,

When I step in and tell him: "No, no, no. Shaking the head is a good think in India. It means yes. You can stay!

Micheal tries to bribe his way back into the country: BAKSHEESH!!!

HIMALAYAS

2008-01-14T20:17:00.000Z

Believe me, at 6am between 5 and 6 km above the sea, this photo was not easy

Knowing that I was going to be in Nepal around Christmas time, I saw only one way that I should bring in the New Year. To see the sunrise on January 1st over Mount Everest.

You can in fact see Everest from hundreds of miles away, but I wanted to see it up close and personal. For this I would need some serious preparations. I decided to call in the boys:

Mark Day: I had spent the last New Year with him in Time Square. I had forced him to go, and now eactly a year later I was trying to redeem myself by recruiting him on this venture. He spent thousands of dollars on equipment, and in fact (without realising) came equipped, even to summit the tallest place on Earth!
Michael Keeley: Always takes a month out to join me wherever I am. A city banker just turned 30, he was happy to escape his hectic Dublin-life, and get out into some fresh mountain air.

Ryan Cole: Working too long in the hotel industry, including too many full English Breakfast (free, one of the perks of the job), he needed to get out and do some high altitude trekking.

Cam: An Australian I picked up in Tibet. The backpacker route from Tibet to Nepal is done over 5 days in a 4x4 across the Tibetan Plateaux aka "The Roof of the World". This includes a stop off at Qolomonga Base Camp (Everest in Tibetan), but when Cam heard that I was planning to do Sagarmatha Base Camp (Everest in Nepali) BY FOOT, he soon realised that having done the feat in the luxury of a LandCruiser just wasn't the same. He was in.And of course: Me

Now that our group of 5 was complete, the first step was to board a small aircraft for a 25 minute flight from Kathmandu to the middle of the Himalayas.

The return flight from Kathmandu to Lukla cost 200us
From the town of Lukla, where the plane set us down, SBC was a two week trek away. This includes a number of rest days to account for acclimatisation. Starting at 2400m above sea level, our adventure would take us up and down the Himalayas, over passes covered in snow; past (and inadvertently ACROSS) massive crevass filled glaciers; through dozens of tiny villages and into extremes of weather and cold that would test even the hardiest of mountaineers.

At this early stage of the walk, the scenery is still lush
If we all lived the winter walk to see the proposed sunrise from Kala Patthar (Black Rock) coming from behind Everest on New Years Day, we will have reached the mega altitude of 5550m.

No matter where you were always a white peak crept out

The airstip at Lukla is perched on a hill, and so its length is so short that as soon as our aircraft touches down, the pilot immmediately SLAMS on the breaks and banks an emergency right hand turn, pulling up perfectly in front of the airport building.

On our first day, you can see we are all still energetic

Hanging around arrivals we are accosted by hopeful porters and sherpas, all offering their services to help us carry our loads and show us the way. Though we appreciate that employing these guys is the main economy of the mountains: we were adament to attempt this great exploration all on our own. Mark may be carrying 20kg, but the poor dude behind is lugging over 60kg
Our mean weight was around 15 kilos a head (Mark and all his high-tech gear pushing him nearer the 20 mark).

Day 1 ended up being a rest day and so we only walked a couple of hours and stayed in a lodge which cost us around 50 cents each. Amazingly, the higher and further we got, the prices were always less than a dollar a head. It was off season afterall, I mean what crazy minds would attempt this in the dead of Winter?

Common sight along the route: a Sherpa carrying goods

The food however was consistently more and more expensive the higher and further we went. This is because everything is brought in by hand. That is to say that all the sherpas carry everything themselves from Lukla, usually 30-60 kilos each. Back-breaking I can assure you.

I pay my 1000 Nepali Rupee entrance fee to the park

Early on Day 2 we entered the Sagarmatha National Park. Most of the day was spent criss-crossing the river over suspension bridges, sometimes hundreds of feet up above the river (much to Ryan's dismay).

Code Schmode: Im not afraid of staying danger sideYak

The First Himalayan Code is : if a Yak is passing you, always keep to the moutain side. You don't want a renegade Yak to whack you off the side. Some of the falls could prove perilous.

Rush hour on the suspension Bridge. A Yak crosses at the same time as Mark

The conclusion of the days hike was a steep 600m climb into the biggest village in the whole of the Solukhumbu area: Namche Bazaar, the Sherpa Capital.

The beautiful mountain settlement that is the Sherpa Captial: Namche Bazaar
Some of us trudged in after nightfall, Ryan at first declaring: "That's it..........this is as far I go".
Others were already suffering from severe headaches due to the sudden rise in altitude. We were now at 3500m.
For these resons and because it was Christmas, we decided to spend 3 rest days here. We went out on a secret Santa and these are our gifts over a glass of Champagn

Over X-mas dinner: Yak steak, veg and roast potatoes, we opened our Secret Santa presents. I got a book from Mark about a disaster that happened at Mount Everest in 1996 in which 8 people died. Thanks.
Ryan had brought Champagne from England which I had promised to carry all the way to Base Camp for everyone, but we heard that everything freezes up there, so we popped it on the 25th instead.

Feeding the locals from Namche neighbouring village,Thamo, kids enjoy sweets

Though boxing day was officially another rest day, you are supposed to do small day hikes, preferably at higher altitudes, adhering to the second Code of the Himalayas. Go High - Sleep Low.
We went to a local village and brought candies for the local kids.

There was also a Buddhist Monastery under construction and a kind "Enlightened" monk/nun gave us biscuits and showed us round.

Ryan must have had heart attack when he say this broken bridge next to water
The walk on Day 5 from Namche to Tengboche would see another steep 600m climb. I think secretly some us of the group were thinking about hiring a porter. I just plodded along.

This is view of Mount Everest, also known to the locals as Sagarmatha
We could have probably gone further than Tengboche famed for its Monastery, even more so for its unbeatable view (our first) of the 8850m high monstrosity of black and white rock called Everest. 3 of the worlds top ten highest mountains were dancing in front of our eyes in different shades of orange and pink as the sun was setting in the Khumbu Region.

At first the illusion was that I was crapping on the thing. Then that it was poking me up the bum. Then we realised these were all disrespectful ideas?

Day 6. Another perfectly sunny day without a cloud in the sky. Global Warming or not, the locals told us that this good weather was extremely rare this time of year and the heavy snow should be coming any day now. It was looking more and more like Mark's 3 kilo special snow boots wouldn't be necessary. Also that we would get a cloud free view of Everest for our set date. Could it hold for another couple of days?

Ryan taking a sip of Glacier water on his way to D'gboch

That night we reached Dingboche and though the walk wasnt so difficult because of steep climbs, we were well into the 4000m and it was taking its toll on some of the group. In the morning we would reasess.

Yak dung is left out to dry and then collected at night

Living and breathing the same thin air, a little fight was bound to errupt within the party. At the time I was spending as little as possible and eating one small thing for dinner. That night after a fight about who gets their own room and who shares, as a peace offering, one of the guys offered to buy me dinner. That night I had soup, desert and a bottle of Fanta.

Day 7, BEFORE DISASTER STRIKES: For the first time on the trek, we all walked at the same pace (previously we had been rolling in to our destinations hours apart), and so played games, stopped to boil some tea, and make a nice afternoon out of our planned walk to Thukla. When we realised we'd gone astray from the path, we still figured it would be ok. Instead, we would take the indistinct Black-dotted path for a couple hours, then cross the Khumbu Glacier, landing us nicely in Lobuche, thus saving a day even.

Seeing as none of us could read topographical maps, indeed two days before, a 20 minute arguement ensued on how to determine north from south on a compass; we were surely doomed.

The sun already behind a measely unimportant 7000m mountain behind us, we probably had an hour or so of daylight to achieve what we thought we calculated would take us 20 minutes.

We're jovial and all giggles now. Give it two hours!!!!

Climbing the first peak, I peer over with everyone waiting, expectant to hear good news.

"It's not looking good", I laughed. But the kind of nervous laugh you omit when you hear someone has died, though you're not trying to be malicious.

Passing over the rubble we come to a view point: "Woah, is that ice. We are ON the glacier".

What seemed like a desert of rubble, we later learnt to in fact be the Glacier. We were standing on the Khumbu Glacier, skirting the edges very close to crevasses for over half an hour before we even realised. The ice on the Glacier would rise and fall to proportions of mini mountains and so it took us till almost darkness to cross its 1km width.

Our destination Lobuche was still eluding us, when we thought we had the vantage point of height for a full view across the Khumbu, there was still nothing of human settlement for miles around.

Mark half-conceeded that the worst case scenario for him was to sleep out in the open ON the glacier, as his sleeping bag was adept to dealing with temperatures of minus 40. The rest of us were screwed!

Cam took a deviation convinced after another look at the map that we had to cross the glacier AND retrace a few kilometers.

Expert map readers Ryan and Micheal followed, so convinced of their new forged path, that as I reached the far end of the glacier and saw even with my naked eye the lights of a distant village: LOBUCHE, they continued along their path, deluded from shock, and the last couple hours of treacherous crevass dodging and having toyed with the idea of conceeding to sleep on the ice, possibly the last of their lives.

What almost eluded us but later saved us: Lobuche

An hour later we are all safely in the lodge. We were now at 5000m and though our story made us the Heroes of the Hour, we were advised to spend 2 days in Lobuche recuperating.

On turning the corner and seeing Gorak shep, I knew that I ws only a three hour glacial hike away from SBC

Day 9 we set out for Gorak Shep. This used to be the original base camp for expeditions to climb Mount Everest, but over the years, the camps had been set up further and further along the glacier, until it was now a full days walk to get to and from SBC from our lodging in Gorak.

Knowing that we had to cross the fearsome glacier again, we set a deadline time so that we wouldn't be faced with traversing yet again in the absence of daylight.

King of the world: I perform 3 rituals at this sacred site. Eat a snickers, collect a stone, and the 3rd, well???

With the deadline long since elapsed, and me already at Gorak waiting, I decide to head out to SBC alone.

Though the crux of this Himalayan venture was to happen very early the next morning, today was New Year's Eve, and reaching Mount Everest Base Camp was as special a moment as any in one's life.

It turns out that after making it this far, only 2 in fact made it all the way to SBC proper.

Looking serene at Everest Base Camp (also called SBC)

As I looked on at what would be the next step in the process for the people who ACTUALLY summit the top of the world, I felt a pang in my stomach of longing to reach what to date only 3000 humans have achieved. But at a whopping cost of 65 000 USD, it wasn't going to happen any time soon. We mere mortals must contend with reaching what in fact is the furthest one could go this time of year in any case. The climbing month is May or October.

Wherever one treads, one must leave their legacy!!!!!!

The Altitude, the aching muscles, and fatigue from the journey walked thus far, meant that the nearest any of us would get to the midnight countdown into the year 2008 A.D., was around 8pm. At 04:30 we had to be up and out, and climb another mountain.

A preemptive strike celebration. It's only 6pm NY's Eve

At sea level you breathe in 100 per cent oxygen. Up at 5500m, where we now had to climb at 5 in the morning, you only have 50 per cent oxygen. Added to that the freezing subzero temperatures, wind-chill factor and another very steep 500 meter ascent, I couldn't help thinking on the way up, that this year was only going to get easier and easier for me.

So cold up on Kala Pather, I brought my sleeping bag

Ryan carried a bottle of water, which froze solid before he even made the top. We arrived early and huddled together, frantically warming our hands and feet with our last remaining heat packs, and waited for over an hour for the sun to rise and light up SAGARMATHA and welcome in the New Year for us.

The sun has just come into view. Everest is awakening!

It had taken ten gruelling, fantastic, frightening, wonderful, days to achieve what we had set out to do. There wasn't even a wisp of a cloud to obscure our view that morning.

What then usually takes most people 4-5 days to get back to Lukla (going down is easier than up) I was determined to do in a record breaking 2.

Mark and I leapt ahead of the gang and virtually raced back down to Tengboche the half-way point. When we arrived Mark noted that it was only 13:30. Surely we should keep going.

Back in Tengboche with that killer view of Everest again

When I thought he meant to the next village Namche, I could see a crazy look in his eye. I knew immediately what he was thinking.

When we got to Namche just before dark and stopped for dinner, a couple overheard that we had come from Kala Pathar that same day. They couldn't believe it and got a little stir of interest going in the lodge. Who were these two crazy white boys who made it in one day from KP. Nonchalantly announcing between spoonfuls of soup that this was in fact just a breather, we were in fact headed ALL THE WAY to Lukla, well, this just got the whole place up in a riot.

On the return path a lady does her washing in the river

Locals had virtually never heard of LOCALS doing this.

In fact by the time the whole lodge had come to either dissuade us from our madness, or congratulate our heroic intention, we were already feeling tired, stuffed our bellies and warm from the Yak dung fire burning in the corner.

But surely we couldn't back down now. We nobly bade our farewells, switched on our nightlights (yet another of my walks would end in a "Night-Walk"), and at first stepped, but later when no one was around, hobbled, on our way.

No words or colours describe the state of our feet

Nothing but sheer determination got us through and along the pain barrier that was the walk from Namche to Lukla. We arrived at 01:30 and after 20 hours of marching across the Himalayas, quonked out on the bench in the airport, hoping we could board an early morning flight back to Kathmandu. Before lunch time, we were back in the world of cars, fumes, and well: Civilisation!

Alive and well. Let's rent a movie, stuff our faces and generally celebrate life. It's 2008. Happy New Year!!!!

Coast to Coast

2007-05-10T01:18:00.001Z

In The Beginning

Though its nice to see friends and family after being away for a year, it can quickly get depressing to be home and back to work. A cure I have found to work is to immediatley take some more time off. So after a weekend in Ramsgate, old travel buddy Peter Breivik and I hook up in Carlisle for a new adventure.

On Hadrians Wall

First off, we're so close to Hadrians Wall and Scotland, we make fleeting visits to both. Gretna Green was the border town, where we try Haggis, down a shot of local whisky and of course: get married. (Only joking).

Our real reason for being in Cumbria was to fulfill a promise we had made to each other 4 or so years ago. To embark on a journey which would take us from the Irish Sea to the North Sea. All on foot. The route is commonly known as Wainright's Coast to Coast; stretching for 192 miles through 3 National Parks, across the Pennines and takes most people more than two weeks to complete.

Whitehaven Sunset

Both of us keen snooker players, we had some tickets to World Snooker Semi-finals in Sheffield, which was in 15 days. We would have to get a serious move on. Well..... on day 1 we decided that the journey would be well fitted to begin and end with a game of snooker. Consequently we didnt leave the sunset town of Whitehaven until 4pm.

We officially begin by getting our boots wet

Our first 10 miles ended feeling tired and hungry. Who am I kidding! We were knackered and starving. Three of those miles were spent getting lost. Were we really capable of doing this? Some locals were kind enough to let us set up tent in their garden, afterall, this whole thing was on a tight budget. Each night was to be spent wild camping, eating from our gas stoves which we carried along with many other self-sufficient essentials. 20Kg on each of our backs. Certain luxuries included i-pod (though striclty to be used in the tent and not to spoil the nature walking experience). A few days later I found hair gel buried in Peters bag. "Only the essentials", I thought we'd agreed.

Day 2 saw us entering the Lake District. We took our first shower in the freezing waters of Lake Ennerdale. Nearby day hikers saw what they must have thought were two Naturalists through their binoculaurs.

Peter getting ready for a BIG bath

Arriving at Blacksail youth hostel in the middle of nowhere we meet a guy who tells us the way towards Rostwaithe. We ignore his advice and climb the mountain next to the path thinking we knew a shortcut. We did 4 extra miles that day mostly on our hands and knees it got so scarily steep, up in dense fog, trying to navigate EAST with a compass that kept losing its bubble (like those on spirit levels). Did I mention that neither of us have any mountainering skills whatsoever.

Peter buys Hats so we wont get burnt again

That night the rain came in. It didnt stop for 3 whole days. We had some degree of weather protection, but nothing could have prepared us for this onslaught. Everything we wore and carried was soaked through. One day we awoke to pack the tent away, in the rain, having to put on wet clothes, in the rain; before endeavouring on a 15 mile hike mostly uphill, in the strongest winds imaginable.

Peter cooks lunch in the rain

The rain drops hid our tears, and the howling winds drowned out our pleas to each other to just give up and go home. Of course we got lost each of those three days, once so badly, we climbed up and down a whole mountain for nothing. We had just ascended what we thought would be the hardest and highest of the afternoon and were about to jump for joy; when two lone hikers appeared through the clouds, perched beside a Cairns marking the summit; and using their GPS pointed on our map that we were miles off course.

We finally climb the CORRECT mountain - Kirdsty Pike (Our highest)

Wild camping is scary enough, we simply couln't resit the luscious grass of a graveyard in Orton. Peter pokes his head out of the tent to see that the heavens have finally closed. The sun, which we last saw setting over the Irish Sea in Whitehaven, was finally back with us.

Thriller Night

Over tea and jam, cream and butter Scones (a rare luxury I can assure you), we both realise that having survived the last 5 days: not even a fractured leg would stop us from finishing this thing. I honestly believe that had it been raining when we woke up THAT day, this story would end here.

Checking the forecast over Scones and Tea

Onwards we went. Crossing the Pennines we also enterd our second National Park: The Yorkshire Dales. Here we came across a local farmer who told us they have no control over the public footpaths even though at times they went through the front gardens of their farm houses. We thanked him, explaining we weren't REAL ramblers just a couple of guys out getting some fresh air.

Local Farmers speak their mind

This is how to keep clean in the wild

By the middle of the walk, so many people had asked us if this was for charity, that we finally became ashamed of saying no. Of course this is for charity!!! That night through SMS we raised over 130 pounds from close family and friends for the Paul Hunter Charity (a snooker player who died of cancer last year).Now the walk was entirely in the name of snooker. Often we timed it to arrive in a village at night to watch some of the games in the only pub. Sometimes they didn't have televisions, or closed before the 23:20 highlights. At other times we would go entire days without seeing a piece of civilization, camping miles away from a village, but always with spectacular views of valleys and rivers.

We camp at run down farm ruin: Crackpot Lodge

The biggest village we went through was Richmond, still too small to have anything bigger than Spar or a corner Co-Op. Most daily transactions happened in the village Post Office. From banking to buying cheese and milk to first class stamps and birthday cards.

Peter cooks us rice and salmon

The next piece of English Beauty was our third and final National Park: The North york Moors. This went all the way to the Coast - A place we had been dreaming about for the last few days.

The North York Moors

Up on the Moors, we sometimes had views that would stretch for as far as from an aeroplane window. There were lots of animals in the Moors. We had to combat snakes, pheasants, and even considered boiling and eating a rabbit we caught. It was too cute though.

I have aeroplane view

Jerry saves Peter's life by killing poisonous Adder Snake

After a 20 mile hike, our second longest yet, we arrived at the village pub in Glaisdale.Though exhausted, we were filled with joy knowing that the next day would be our last. Peter bought two double shots of whiskey. A day early for celebrations I thought, then catching a crazy glimpse in his eyes.

A whisly for the road

"Jerry", he said. "You've always been on about doing a night walk. Now is the time".
Surely he didn't mean it. With 15 miles left to go, surely no man could handle a 35 mile day. Then the bar owner told us that the S.A.S. do their training on the C2C route in 52 hours. He bought us a shot of whiskey, then we put our backs back onto our already aching backs. If they can do it. So can we!

This was a night-walk

Of course we already felt hardcore by this stage, besides, we had loads of spare batteris for our headlamps. One piece of advice we did heed from two local lads who thought we were crazy, was that we would DEFINITELY die if we went through the bogs. It's like sinking sand they told us, and hard enough to negotiate during day light.We stuck to the main road. We giggled most of the way in pure ecstasy. The sun not yet risen and we were due to arrive in Dracula's Whitby around 5am. Just in time for a sunrise. We rechristened the name of our walk: PnJ's Sunset to Sunrise Walk.
We stepped down the cliff, the cold English sea breeze welcoming in our faces, the shrieks of seagulls more melodic than the classical music I had on my MP3. We had made it.

We joyously arrive at the other coast and take a boat ride out of Whitby Harbour

Been there, done that, bought the T-Shirt

In all it took us 12 days and over 200 miles (we got lost everyday but two).

Champagne and Cigar celebrations

When people ask me what it's like back in England, I can no longer say that it's dull and ugly. It's has grandeur and beauty of the highest quality.

Some extra fotos of the scenery

USA - Rockies

2007-03-13T06:09:00.000Z

One of the seven wonders of man

My brother Jess lives two hours from Vegas, and lucky for me, rather than hitching through the desert, he was in the Gambling Capital for his wife Crystal's birthday. We pigged out at an all you eat buffet, so much so that I walked out hunch-backed, muttering like I do after every buffet: "Never again".

Concrete Heaven

Half an hour down the road is one the feats of engineering celebrated as one of man's greatest achievements. Hoover Damn. Powering a large percentage of bordering 3 States, it really is one scary thing to peer over the edge of.

Sister in law Crystal

The Colorado river continues on through the Damn after creating artificial lake Mead (which took 3 years to fill) then carving out the Grand Canyon before finishing up in the Gulf of California.

Those Damned Brothers

"A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed."

These words are from the second ammendment of the Constitution of the United States. Though written in 1789 and should be understood in the context of their time, I, like millions of other Americans was about to exercise MY constitutional rights, and shoot up the place; a place where guns are wicked easy to get your hands on. Welcome to the Wild West.

Average American Arsenal

It was thanksgiving, and what better way to start off the day than to shoot each other, first with paint, then get out the real guns and rifles and target practice some lemonade cans, furiously shaken up, for a full explosion sensation.

Scott loads the Rifles

Family friend Scott was the Lieutenant of the operation. In his car he carried around 3 rifles, a couple handguns and a grenade (one of those is a lie). All for sport though of course. The cans were placed hundreds of meters away, as I was about to learn, REAL bullets shoot REALLY far.

Shooting Cans

I manage to pop a couple of targets with the telesopic lens. It was impossible to maintain any kind of aim with the hanguns which almost fly out of my hand on every shot. What we see in the westerns with the cowboys - all that effortless shoot and draw stuff - it's a lie.

Dirty Jerry and his 45 Magnum

Dressed for a shoot-out in the Rockies

Thanksgiving Clan

The state of Utah, though notorious for being the breeding ground of Mormons, is in fact one of the most beautiful. Canyons and mountains, lakes and rivers. Part of the Rockies, here most of the rock is either a bright red or pink colour, made particularly astonishing during a sunset.

Zion's National Park Utah

In the time I had, I visited two National parks each as spectacular and wonderous as the other. Having girls on our entourage, the boys obviously have to disobey the signs saying DANGER OF PASSING THE FENCES, and venture out for these "danger pictures".

Boys being dangerous

It seemed like on every turn there were views of Canyons all equal to that of the splendour of the famous one further down in Arizona. These Canyons are in fact all part of the same plateau. On our way to the ski resort, we pass this view point lying casually on the side of the road.

Marta and Mark at Cedar Breaks Canyon

Cedar Break Brothers

A friend of a friend knew someone at the slopes, so we got our passes for free. Probably the reason I was skiing for the first time. It was fun doing Dumb and Dumber impressions on the ski lift, where I tried to convince everybody that my tongue was stuck to the railing. For a while there I think I understood the reason people get addicted to this kind of thing, the rush is quite immense.

First time Ski-ier

Another National Park, this one a few hours away, was made especially enjoyable as "Without a license me" was aloud to do some of the driving. That was until we passed a group of deer in the road.

Bryce Canyon Newlyweds

Moon-set over Bryce Canyon

Jess and me at Bryce Canyon

Rainbow bridge

The latest James Bond was playing in the Movie Theater (listen to me all American now) and a face off paper, scissors, stones with Mark saw the loser pay for all the treats and snacks. Guess who won.

Lucky, greedy, happy me

Coming up: Tales of the Caribbean

USA - West Coast

2007-03-13T05:34:00.000Z

The first ever Starbucks was established in Seattle in 1971. I’m not really into conglomerate spending, but we found the original café (not green and white like all the others) and indulged in Orange Mocha Frappacinos. Michael was acting a bit grumpy and when I asked him what was up, he told he was “Sleepless in Seattle”. Idiot!

First Starbucks Established 1971 in Seattle

Two not-so-ordinary Consumers

Cruising around town, we encounter a group of hippies offering “free hugs” in the street. Before we knew what was happening Michael and I are roped in and giving the public a respite from their monotonous lives. Michael got 5 hugs, all from guys. Most people were freaked out.

You're too good to peopel of Seattle Michael.....You really are!

One middle-aged woman I overheard whilst hugging a colleage, said: “Thank you so much, you’ve kept me from doing it”, then wadded away with tears streaming down her face. I had goose bumps all the way up my body. WE had just saved a life.

So believe it or not, the few good things we all aspire to do in life, really do make a difference.

Seattle Space Needle

It was Michaels last night of his North American expeditions before returning to the grind (he is a miller), so he treated me to a 1^st class dinner and champagne in the Seattle Space Needle, with its revolving platform restaurant. Actually we tried to sneak up there for a free view of the city, got caught and to save face ACTUALLY went into the restaurant. Thanks Michael.

Me as a Goth!!!

With Michael gone, I was fortunate to make friends with an exotic dancer who said I could crash with her for as long as I liked. I stayed a week. Every night we went to Goth clubs, so temporarily, I became a Goth.

One night we went out for some midnight snacks and she took her pet ferret along on a leash. As you can imagine it startled a few people (they look after all like elongated rats), but one group of guys took a liking to it and started chatting with us. They asked us what we were doing the next evening, but before I could think of an excuse to get out of some weird animal orgy I was sure they would propose, they whipped out some Rolling Stones tickets. Before we could thank them they whacked out a handful more. “For you friends they said”.

Hendrix, Pearl Jam, Nirvana - all from Seattle

I didn’t even know the Stones were in town. Doubtful of their authenticity, we go the arena the next night to find out they are real, sell the other tickets for almost a hundred dollars (take my friends my ass), and are rocked by the biggest rock act on earth. After the concert, Lilo (her stage name, she wouldn’t let me call her Angela in case clients overheard) said I could keep the money, saying she earned 500 dollars that day. But I said we should share it so we made an evening out of it: taxis, drinks, dinner etc.

Lilo, the ferret, the free Stones tickets and the cash

From one grunge and happening west coast city to another, I say goodbye to Lilo and take the greyhound to Portland. Here I would hook up with a friend I met in Central America, Tino.

Mount Ranier from the Rose Garden Portland Or.

Only a couple days ago he had been fired from his bar work, immediately after being made “Employee of the year”. He was caught taking shots with the customers. But he had a voucher for him and another person to eat at his restaurant, which was ordinarily very expensive.

So we made an appearance much to the dismay of the boss, and “steaked out”. Even the tip would have cost 20 dollars, but luckily his friend was the waiter!

Tino steaking out

Tino had 20 dollars to his name and the rent man was knocking. But all this pressure on him somehow made him not have a care in the world and so for 3 days we enjoyed living like homeless bums, playing music in bars, drinking from the second we awoke (late in the afternoon of course) and basically painting the town red. I was sorry to ditch him so low a point in his life, but I wanted to get to my aunties in southern Oregon for Halloween.

Auntie Mary and cousin Mark

It took me so long to cross the state that in the end I spent Halloween in famous hippy town Eugene. I accidentally went to a thrash metal concert, and for the first time in my life, for no reason at all, a girl bought me drink. An hour later the same thing happened, only this time it was two girls. Ah Eugene!!!
I hadn’t seen my auntie or cousins since I was 7 or 8. I barely remembered them, but they welcomed me with open arms. I stayed for a few days, learnt some juicy family secrets, stuffed my face every day (you know how aunties are) and left the state a good few kilos heavier.

San Francisco Bay - Alcatraz
Welcome to Alcatraz

Next stop San Francisco. I had been here 4 years earlier directly after losing all my money to the casinos in Nevada. I had called home and begged dad for some funds and received enough to get me to my flight in LAX. So this time (being so much wiser) I had to go to Alcatraz.

Locked up, just like Alphonse Capone

They really let you roam free around the former prison island. An ex inmate (an Australian caught robbing a bank) was there signing autographs for his new autobiographic release.

Bank Robber sent to Notorious Alcatraz

My good friend Ponch who was living in one of the Frisco hills leant me his bike to explore places like the “Crookedest street in the world” and go across the Golden Gate Bridge (the most photographed in the world) and basically bust my chops cycling in this anti-Amsterdam terrain. If you remember the car chase scenes in the Dirty Harry movies, then you will know how up and down and up and down the whole city is.

Steep Frisco hills, San Fran trolley and Alcatraz in distance

Believe it or not im holding the camera for this one

Half way across the bridge I come across this sign. It's said that 7 people a year jump off the Golden Gate Bridge (so called because of the national park it is next to - in case you were wondering why it wasn't called the rusty iron bridge, or rather: isn't painted gold). If the fall itself doesnt get you, the freezing, rapid waters will. Good luck!

Basically - You WILL die

To get to my brothers in Utah for thanksgiving, I had to change greyhounds in Los Angeles, a city with over 100,000 homeless people. It takes more than 24 hours to even count (non-stop) to that figure, trust me, I've tried it. It is an unfathomable amount.

One of MANY

Next up: Thanksgiving in the Rockies (with lots of shooting)

CALIFORNIA - THE GOLDEN STATE

Canada - Vancouver Island

2006-11-28T03:15:00.000Z

Michael - as degenerate as me

A long lost friend from Ireland, Michael Keeley, would join me for three weeks of adventure in Canada and America.
We rendez-voued in a hostel in downtown Vancouver, where two Australian guys, Rob and Colin agreed to drive us on the ferry to Vancouver Island.

The ferry to Vancouver Island

Port Alberny was a place where we heard it was possible to see bears along the river at high tide. Sure enough as we got there, a black bear was strolling along the banks.

We got wind of where we could see even more bears – at a salmon farm.

Port Alberny Bear

Pulling in to Robertson Creek, we see signs posted everywhere saying: CAUTION – Bears on site. With over 100 000 salmon jumping in and out of the lake, it made the perfect picnic spot for our big Black friends.

Caution - Beastly Bears aBound

Being five of us, we decide to brave it into the woods. We came up with a few protocols on what should happen if…….. Stay together, stay still and wait it out, was the consensus.

One of 100 000 salmon

With me leading the pack, we turn a corner and suddenly less than a few meters in front of me I beheld a Black Bear. No one else saw it. I hardly managed to secrete the word: B-E-A, before something happened which we hadn’t heard about or read in textbooks. The thing started to charge towards us – or ME rather, seeing as I’m in front.

A walk in the woods

Not for long! Every instinct in my body said to get the hell away from being the first to be mauled. This involved throwing two people into the ditch to scramble to a safe third place.

In the space of a microsecond a war broke out. In slow motion, it went something like this: I throw Michael to the left where he lands upside down in the ditch. Next I grab Colin and rugby tackle him backwards, also into the ditch. This whole time Michael is holding on to my leg with a grip of: “If I’m going down, Jerry is definitely coming with me”. The other two managed to flee the scene completely.

One minute bears are cute and cudly: the next.........

Somehow the bear managed a last second aversion, during which time three petrified pair of eyes are looking up from the ditch waiting for a mad beast to come around the corner and eat them. As soon as Michael pulls himself together he breaks his stick over me and everyone joins in to calling me a traitor. That I sold my friends to save myself! So what. Anyone would have done the same. Besides, it was not in the “protocol” that a bear would come charging towards anyone.

He cant catch me so he goes for the salmon instead

With most of us scarred for the rest of our lives, we pile back into the car to head west to the Pacific Rim National Park and quaint beach town Tofino where we heard they were hosting their first ever Annual Beer Festival. Some of the trees in the park where so big, it took up to 6 adults to span around it with outstretched arms.

Pacific Rim National Park

It takes 6 to hug a tree

Tofino Beer Festival 2006

A group of international students drive us to the islands capital Victoria. The convoy involved a car full of boys and another full of girls. The 3 hour journey was made exceptionally tolerable with 70 mile per hour quid pro quo exchanges of boobs for bums out the car window.

Lasting as long as it did, the game took inevitably violating turns, which meant that eye contact was impossible when we finally said goodbye.

The convoy

The island is a famous place for going whale watching. Though many different types of whales come through these waters, there was only one kind Michael and I were interested in. Orcas. That’s Killer Whales to you.

Dressed up for whale watching

As 5 or so Orcas are exhibiting themselves at arms length from our Zodiac, our guide puts an instrument in the water which allows us to hear their echo location sounds. One whale looked directly into my eyes. Cruising back to shore with the sun setting before us, a bald eagle is perched on a log: our guide tells us we were the luckiest group he had taken out. I should hope so. It took me the whole of the night before to come to terms with parting with the 60 dollars!!!

A killer whale splashes its tail

The Orca

Our hostel in Victoria faces a nightclub we frequented every night. One night I didn’t even manage to get the ten meters across the street before I find myself once again in cuffs and headed for the Royal Mounted Canadian Police Station.

House of Parliament - where laws are passed about people like me

This time I was wholly innocent, as I later deducted they were only filling a quota of arrests, in the hope they would find drugs on me. I was released the next morning without charge.

Optical illusion - its actually the worlds tallest totem pole at 39m

Taking the ferry back from Vancouver Island we see some mountains which form part of the Olympic Mountain range. They belong to an entirely different part of the world. A first for Michael, we were on our way to AMERICA.

Along the pacific coasts of north America: 2 guys skinny dipping

Canada - British Columbia

2006-11-28T03:04:00.000Z

Lion's bridge: the sea to sky highway begins

Glen’s Pontiac just about makes it into Squamish at 2am. His poor car had clocked up over 3000 miles and the last 50 had been dangerously loud, shaky and scary. Squamish is halfway between Vancouver and Whistler and lies along the famous Sea-to-Sky-Highway. So called because, looking out one window you see islands, water inlets, even whales; and out the other window the majestic towering Coastal Range mountains.

Glen's Pontiac

Glen invited a Tsunami survivor for dinner. Bruce had been playing his didgeridoo on a cliff off the coast of Costa Rica early one morning, when suddenly a thirty meter wave swallowed him up. If you have ever wondered what it takes to JUST survive a natural disaster, then here is your answer. He spent three months in a local hospital and was told he would never walk again. This man is a living testament to the human spirit, and is currently hobbling about on crutches.

Bruce, Glen and me

Whistler sees a winter of a millions skiers and a summer of a million bikers.
We arrived between seasons, so were only able to stroll around the resort imaging what the place would look like covered in snow.

Lake outside Whistler

More important than this tourist Mecca though, was the Skookumchuck hot springs, two hours north of Whistler, mostly off the beaten track along the rapid river with only the odd graveyard to furnish the 44km dirt road.

Skookumchuck Hot Springs

Glen being sac-religious

We soaked our travel weary bodies in the piping hot water. We had after all just driven across the whole of Canada. The stars were brighter than ever and it was just possible, with the help of a couple beers, to make out the northern lights.

Northern Lights

Our signs were written out for the Okanagan valley, where we’d heard we could find illicit work picking apples. Five hours away we were mildly disappointed to hear our first lift was only going 20 minutes down the road. Mike soon learnt that he’d picked up a couple of drifters low on funds. One thing leads to another, and an hour later Simon and I find ourselves equipped with hammers and masks, joyfully going about our operation. That’s operation “repair and restore” a mobile home in the middle of the mountains – back in bear country.

Worker who hasn't got a clue

Neither Simon nor I had the smallest of inklings about home improvement. We were taken in as labourers but before long the foreman and his sidekick got us doing absolutely everything. They spent five minutes explaining how to do the most complex things, like installing R20 fiber glass insulation, covering it in plastic, then boarding it up. Creating an entire ceiling in other words.

Even less of a clue

Rob the owner of the mobile unit came back after three days, saw what was happening, fired the foreman and kept Simon and I on as he was so impressed with what we had done.

Rick gets fired

Him and his wife Sheila own champion dogs, and had just returned from a competition where their Springer Spaniel had just won best in show. Their dog was worth more than a million dollars.

Million dollar dog

Robert - the Boss

With no kids, they immediately took me and Simon in as their surrogate sons. In the 2 weeks we ended up staying, we earned well over a thousand dollars, and Rob easily spent as much on us. Food (three meals a day), clothes and the odd treat like getting hold of a copy of Rambo for us. “First Blood” had been filmed in the nearby town of Hope. We went to a few of the locations wearing our Rambo trousers he had bought us.

Thousand dollars worth of food

Stuffing our fat faces

“First Blood” had been filmed in the nearby town of Hope. We went to a few of the locations wearing our Rambo trousers he had bought us.

Rambo

Our relief from a hard week of 12 hour shifts was to hitch to nearby pub: the Goldrush.Here we played pool, and got into fights with the local guys for “talking to their girls”.

About to be in deep deep trouble

I sent one guy flying across the car park; only it was witnessed by three police officers. They arrested me and thought: What the hell, we’ll arrest your friend as well!

So we both spent the night in the cell, I could hear Simon screaming, probably for a snack or a phone call or something.

The next morning they gave us our things back in prison bags, luckily there was no charge.

Just got out of Jail

Everyone we had met had told us that no trip to British Columbia was complete without taking a short ferry over to the island. Vancouver Island: follows

Beautiful British Colombia

Canada - Rockies

2006-09-09T22:16:00.000Z

Alberta Plate

A few years ago I asked a lady and her daughter to take a photograph of me somewhere along the Italian coast. One thing led to another and they ended up buying me ice-cream, dinner and putting me up for the night.
I was on one of my spend nothing, hitching and camping trips, so this all came as a luxurious treat. They even gave me 5 Euros pocket money when we said goodbye the next day.

Shelagh, Bill the boys and the cute charming one

They were from Calgary, the next town we were headed to, so it was time to pay them back. By getting fed and sheltered again of course.

It was so nice to see them again (I didn’t get to catch up with the same daughter, rather a sister and her husband Bill). Around the dinner table Shelagh recollected that she had taken me in in Italy because I had come across charming and cute. All heads turn towards me to try and understand for the life of them what she could possibly have meant. I nod in agreement.

The area we had to commando around

The next day Bill takes us all to his favourite spot. A 50ft cliff jump into glacier cold water. If this wasn’t daring enough, the site had since been bought off by a development agency, which was patrolled 24 hours a day. We had to do a commando past the armed security, diving in and out of bushes, probably past cougars and bears to get to the cliff.

When two of them had jumped off I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t go through with it, though it was the single scariest thing I have ever done. Mark went last and landed awkwardly. He was instantly paralysed. We thought he was a gonner. I couldn’t stop laughing.

4 daring heroes

We had to commando our way back out, this time coming fractions away from getting caught, but my army communications to the group pulled off and got us back to the car unscathed. Bill had to rush back to work, so we headed off to Canmore and Banff.

Mark can barely stand, his back hurts so much

Massive on the tourist map, we only really passed through these winter wonderlands. No one can deny how breathtaking it was. Near Banff we heard of some hot springs, but the boys refused to pay 7 dollars to wallow in “Pool” as they called it. We would find some wild hot springs somewhere instead.

The area around the cliff jump - beautiful Ceebey

The last stop we made in Alberta was a visit to Lake Louise where we warmed our bones with our usual meal – a sachet of noodles and boiling water. We weren’t at all prepared for the high altitude weather. After all, (Jim Carrey Voice “We’re in the Rockies”).

Full on noodles in Lake Louise

Needless to say, I froze that night, only surviving it because of a blanket that Shelagh had given me.

Lake Louise

The second highest waterfalls in Canada are your first attraction when crossing over into Beautiful British Colombia. Total height of 384m the Takakkaw Falls are fed by the Daly Glacier on top of the mountain.

Takakkaw Falls

Takakkaw falls river

Known as the “other lake”, (referring to the popularity of Lake Louise), Emerald Lake is every bit as enchanting as its counterpart. I overheard a tour guide saying that “The Edge” was filmed in the area, and not in Alaska where it’s set. You could easily imagine you were in Alaska.

Emerald Lake

We had heard from someone about some secret wild hot springs down in the Kootenays. To get there we had to drive away from the Rockies and into the next mountain range – the Columbia Mountains. After 2 hours, we were to take a free ferry across the Upper Arrow Lakes, then ask the locals to let us in on the secret location.

The ferry guy, after making sure no one could hear us, whispered the following instructions: Drive past two bridges, take a left onto a dirt road and drive 11km. Walk left into the forest for 10 minutes and you will arrive at the natural wild hot springs.

Free ferry from Shelter Bay to Galena Bay

We came across a crazy naked guy who took us to a secret location WITHIN this secret location. Lucky us!

To appease Glen, we all went naked and dipped our travel weary bodies into 3 pools of deliciously piping hot spring water, coming from the ground. Just behind us we can hear a waterfall crashing down into the freezing glacier stream beside us, which is full of spawning salmon.

Another guy, David from Switzerland, helped Glen collect wood for a fire while we prepared our tent. Glen supplied all the alcohol for an evening of lying naked under the stars and sharing secrets in the hot tub.

David and the fire beside the hot springs

The next day we all head out together in the direction of hippy town Nelson, but don’t quite make it. We had picked up a hitchhiker on the way, who had invited us all back to his farm for lunch.

Brent's family

It turns out Brent and his family, were entirely self sufficient, living totally off the fat of the land. Dinner came straight from the garden; Mark helped pick the beans, while I was out chopping wood. Simon was making a kitten house with the kids. Invariably, I had been calling Mark a “City Slicker” throughout our trip. We all walked away from that experience humbled and enlightened.

Brent's farm in the Slocan Valley
Playing with the kids (of course they have no TV or anything like that

On the way to Vancouver we stopped off at the Okanagan Valley. The wine capital of Canada, we tried some surprisingly good wines. The valley is famous for having the only desert in Canada, and the scene of most of the seasonal fruit-picking.

In a town called Penticton, two lakes are joined together by a man made channel, which we went down on Tubes, drinking beer and telling more secrets. Glen lost again, but fresh out of secrets his forfeit was attempting a handstand which he failed miserably, falling back into the channel.

Tubing the Channel between Skaha and Okanagan Lakes

A last night of camping in the wild before a final journey in our car across Manning National Park, which was so smoky due to nearby massive forest fires in Washington State. Sadly the car was due back in Vancouver. But not before we had clocked up over 5500km. Fortunately we had unlimited miles.

Our last night of camping with bears (Mark caught with his knickers down)

We reach the Pacific at Wreck Beach, Glen’s favourite and of course a nudist beach just outside downtown Vancouver. Watching the sunset over the Ocean I ask Simon if he realizes he has just driven from the Atlantic to the Pacific at the widest point of the Americas. He looks on in silence. We both felt like pioneers.

Two young pioneers

Canada - Prairies

2006-09-08T22:11:00.000Z

Manitoba Plate

We were entering a new Province whose slogan as stated on the car plates is: “Friendly Manitoba”

Lauren from the Tourist Office

We were only in Manitoba a matter of minutes before the people working in the tourist office invite us back to their cabin for a party.

Partying on Star Lake by the fire

All the young people from the area came along for a night of drinks, music (I did some Beatle numbers for them), and to make a fire on the beach in their garden on Star Lake. Miles from any kind of city, the stars were out in their billions. What a welcome we received.

Star Lake

The Prairies is the Great Plains part of Canada, and as its name suggests is endlessly flat. Most Canadians knows them as the “drive through” provinces. We were determined to have a wail of a time none the less.

Typical Prairies

First stop: Grand Beach on Lake Winnipeg. This proved to be a magical surprise. The lake went on further than the eyes could see, and the crystal white sand was set in a cove of luscious trees.

Lake Winnipeg

We stopped in the Town of Winnipeg to take a photo of the Forks where the Red and Assiniboine Rivers meet. That night we camped right on the motorway outside Brandon, it was so noisy, I should never have listened to the brothers – insisting there would be no traffic which there was throughout the whole night.

3 Crazy boys on their haystacks

Continuing west on the number 1 highway we enter the next province along: Saskatchewan, by far my favourite name. There were two ways to get to its capital Regina. Continue along the never changing highway or go through the Qu’appelle valley. This valley trail took us away from a planet we’d come to appreciate as barren for the last 1000km. We went sliding into Crooked Lake in a ghost town called Melville Beach.

Crooked Lake in the Qu'Appelle Valley

Our worst night of camping was endured on the Saskatchewan – Alberta border. We got lazy and didn’t properly peg the tent down (I secretly blame Simon) . A storm broke out and slowly soaked me to the bone. I woke up freezing wet, and had to go to the car and turn on the engine to warm up. An hour later Mark followed suit. Then came Simon.

To stop ourselves from going mad, we had to invent car games which almost inevitably broke out into a fight and a sulk. I.e. I won them all.

All happy because the car game has only just started - give it 5 minutes

Half of Alberta is in the Prairies, the other in the Rockies (so not entirely a “drive through” province). On the map we saw that we could take a detour to: “Dinosaur Provincial Park”. It was a 100km out of our way, but adults or not, we all got giddy and excited.

Dinosaur Badlands

Set in the badlands, over 150 dinosaurs have been excavated so far. Two of them have been left exactly as they were found and covered in a shelter for tourists to look at.

Dinosaur lying exactly where it died 75 million years agoDinosaur Provincial Park museum

Our consensus when completing the Prairies was that they were not at all boring, but we knew that we were headed to Calgary: the last stop before we would be entering into the Rocky Mountains. Adios flatlands and badlands.

Saskatchewan Plate

Canada - Ontario part I

2006-09-06T21:51:00.000Z

The "Free way" to the falls

The Day Twins crossed the Rainbow Bridge from New York State into Canada around midnight. The rendezvous was the Casino. I had been there for 3 hours already and though I was only a block or so away from the spectacle, I waited for the boys, so we would all see the falls together.

It was dark and misty but my first impression was of the thundering sound. Indeed, the word Niagara is an Ojibwa word meaning: “Thundering Waters”!

The Day twins and me by the falls

When you prepare yourself for a visit to a place which ranks so highly on the tourist scale, you cannot be surprised or even disappointed when they turn a natural wonder into an over commercialized utopia.

Maid of the Mist

The world famous Maid of the Mist is a boat which takes tourists as close into the falls as possible. To save on the 28 dollars, Simon and I snuck past the ticket booth not realizing there would be another ticket check. Somehow we blagged our way through and found ourselves donning our blue raincoats preparing to be soaked by 6 million cubic feet of water.

Me on Maid of the Mist

The night before we had pissed into the river just before the falls, in the hope that we would microscopically spray all the thousands of tourists into their awe-inspired, open mouths.

Seneca falls

The casino proved our source of free luggage storage, free drinks, and once we accidentally made a bet. Fortunately we won 3 dollars fifty which we excitedly changed and converted into bagels and cream. That whole day and night in Niagara cost us a dollar between us.

Bagels and cream cheese and newspapers with a view

Free camping could prove difficult at times, so one night we camped hidden behind a bush and woke up to the roaring sound of a helicopter only a couple meters away. We thought we were caught in a hurricane the tent shook so much.

Camping and helicopters

Trying to hitch to Toronto we find ourselves crossing motorways trying to find a good spot. Suddenly we hear a siren. The cop rolls down his window and more in a tone of empathy than a reprimand says:” What are you guys doing”, to which we reply: “We don’t know”.

He tells us to get in but doesn’t say another word. Riding in the back of this 70’s Cop Car, Simon asks: “Jeremiah, are we going to Jail”.

“Sssh”, I tell him. “Don’t give him ideas”

Consequently I received my second lift in a police car a good few km down the road. These peoples are so incredibly cordial.

Cool Cop

Our next hitchpicker advised us to check out Port Dalhousie before heading to Toronto. So he drops us off on the beach where we spend two days tanning, swimming and lazily eating ice cream and riding the world’s cheapest carrousel (still only 5 cents a ride). Actually, we were so tight we didn’t even pay that. I found some old tickets.

Port Dalhousie (100km away CN tower in backround)

Hitching to Toronto

On our final leg to the city, we were picked up by a half native girl and her two Canadian friends. They invited us to stay with them in there suburb town of Newmarket. Krystale took us rock climbing where her brother works, to her aunts who just had a pool installed, and countless other activities in her area.

Rock Climbing with Krystale

Two Mormon missionaries give us a lift to Sibbauld Point National Park on Lake Simcoe where we spend 3 days sneaking around different campsites (almost getting caught), winning a beach volleyball competition and lazing around eating ice cream again, waiting.

Enjoying a gin and tonic in the Aunt's pool

Both aged 26 and without a drivers license, Simon and I were waiting for Mark to pick us up and start a mammoth 5000 km road trip crossing the second biggest country in the world.

Krystale and Nate and me

Canada - Ontario part II

2006-09-04T22:00:00.000Z

Ontario Plate

I’m spared a 5 km walk to the supermarket from Sibbauld Point when Gary stops to pick me up. He takes me to the shop and then back to the park. Half an hour later he comes back looking for me in the park. He sees me and Simon scoffing down some ice cream (I promise that we don’t always eat ice-cream, it was an odd sneaky treat).

Campfire marshmallows at Sibbauld Point

He knows we are waiting for Mark to come and pick us up. He tells us that we can all crash around his place that night. He cooks us dinner, plies us with nice expensive Canadian Rye whiskey, and we all share stories, mostly about girls. Gary was 69 but looked 50 and was the coolest guy.

Gary and the boys

He wanted to take us out on his boat, but the weather wasn’t so nice. So after cooking us omelets, we say our farewells and begin the first leg of our mammoth journey.

Common sight along the Trans Canada Highway

The map shows us that crossing the province of Ontario will take at least 3 days. We decide to stop off in various national parks along the way. The first day is spent skirting Lake Huron, where we end up spending a night on St Joseph’s Island.

Eerie Lake Huron (get it?)

The island is situated just south of Sault St Marie a town which has a large Indian population. The girl who picked us up back in Toronto was originally from here.Welcome to Sault St Marie!

From one great lake to another, we visit the pictographs of Agawa Rock inside Lake Superior National Park.

The Agawa PyctographsHundred years old Native drawings

Further down the road we see an isolated beach where we stripped off and went paddling. Mainly as a mode for showering (our trip consisted of keeping clean by dousing ourselves in soap and dipping into freezing cold lakes). Only we hadn’t considered that all the cars on the highway could see our naked butts. We bailed before the rangers caught up with us.

Lake Superior - not big enough to hide our nakedness)

That night we found an airstrip and asked a fireman if we could camp in the bushes on the property. He said there would be no problem. I asked him if there were bears in the area to which he replied:” Oh yeah, loads”!

Simon finding a distraction from bringing food into the tent

I tried to enforce a strict NO FOOD IN THE TENT policy. But the boys were lax, and tried to sneak food in. They weren’t as perturbed at the prospect of being mauled by a bear as I was. The next morning, behind the tent we found 4 mutilated carcasses and bones. I can only hope they weren’t human. One thing we do know was that a hungry bear had recently passed through here.

Probably what the carcass originally looked like

We made a fleeting visit to Rainbow Falls then a walk through the massive Ouimet Canyon before heading down to the "Sleeping Giant" National Park.

Indian Head in Ouimet Canyon

English head in Ouimet Canyon

On the way we were so lucky. Right in front of us a massive black Bear crossed the road. He slowed down, took a look at us, made a sniff in the air, decided we were no good for the tasting and continued on its way through the forest. I was only a meter or so away from it. Scary, but exciting.

The Great Big Mauling and Fiercely Dangerous Black Bear

That night Mark was feeling generous and bought us all an A&W (a company that makes a delicious root beer, and more recently hamburgers and fries etc), which was a welcome break from our staple diet of tuna and mayonnaise, or peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Up until Mark’s treat, a crisp sandwich had been a luxury. Breakfast (and sometimes dinner) had been to get boiling water in a cup from a garage or something, then empty a 20cent packet of noodles into it and hope the heat would simmer them enough to make them edible. Everyday without fail we would indulge on these packaged MSG luxuries. Hey ………when you’re traveling on a budget!!!!!

Mark making his third tuna-mayo sandwich of the day

The morning’s sun rose for us over Kakabeka falls – dubbed the “Niagara of the North”, as we headed away from the great lakes and toward the interior.

Kakabeka falls

Our last treat in Ontario was tiny Blue Lake where the water was so clear you could see 6 meters deep.

Blue Lake

Over 2000km had been completed and it was time to leave behind the scenic Lakes, cliffs, forests, wildlife (on the road we had seen many a deer, moose and bears) and enter into many a Canadian’s nightmare: THE PRAIRIES.

Leaving Ontario sunset