HITCH-HIKING IN THE AXIS OF EVIL - BOOK REALESED!

                                This is the cover of “Hitch-hiking in the Axis of Evil - By thumb through Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan”, my first book to be properly published and available internationally after ten years of self publishing. The book is consciously aimed at providing evidence of the hospitality I experienced while hitch-hiking across the Islamic World, during the first stage of my on going round the world hitch-hiking expedition. In those lands nicked “the Axis of Evil” by George Bush, where mass media only predicates terrorism and violence, I would stumble day by day upon the...

Photos: Melbourne to Sydney

Once again, I’ll let the photos tell their own stories! Enjoy! Sam at Crunchytown, in his usual attire. Yes he is FIXING that freewheel with boiling water =) Diamo Trails, the BMX park I was lucky enough to find my first night out from Melbs Second flood crossing that day – just strip off the shoes and roll up the pant legs classic Oz Lake Eildon on a nice day Lake Eildon again – its a big lake Just messing around on the shores of Lake Eildon A wombat, a real live wombat! Lake Eildon on a rainy day         Sitting the Bush Throne   Tallangatta area Tallangatta area   A misty morn in VIctoria A public village park – no one would dare challenge a poor soaking wet cyclist would they?...

Bush Biker’s Rewards

I got to Canberra early enough to make a detour to the Green Shed, a side business attached to the local rubbish dump. I appreciate that they save them from the landfill, but most of the bikes in there were crap. I found one wheel, though, whose rim might replace mine. I bought it for five bucks and strapped it down on top of the pile. Made it to Parliament House (with random bike cop) That night Nic helped me celebrate with a couple cold beers. This time it was much more than simply completing another leg of the bike tour. I won’t argue that doesn’t merit a couple beers too, of course, but I had really seen through something new that day, something I wasn’t sure I could even do. It was a proud night for me. I knew I would have to let...

Tale of a Bush Biker – Part Two

I’ve been right into Australian bushcraft since I first set foot on the cattle property out back in Queensland. There’s still a lively remnant of the old homesteaders and cattle ranchers out there, a tradition of making do with what you’ve got. I love the practicality of it, the improvised craftsmanship. It’s impressive, the sheer resourcefulness of old timers like Keith, who keeps his property running “on nothing but the smell of an oily rag.” One bushie trick in particular was floating around in my head as I lifted my gear over a barbed wire fence that evening. It’s a fencing join called the figure eight, really just a reef knot, assembled from two ends of wire and secured tighter the more the fence is “strained.” A figure eight in a...

Tale of a Bush Biker – Part One

I tried to tell myself it would be okay. Half-heartedly I gripped the spokes, testing their tension. Maybe it will be fine how it is; after all, it made it over the mountains under rigorous torque. The rim had cracked in four more places since then, but five missing spokes can’t slow me down that much, can it? Cracked rims don’t heal The wheel wobbled alarmingly as I coasted down from camp into the town of Cooma. It was weak beneath the punishing weight of rider and rig. At the slightest lean it flexed dangerously, promising to fold in half at any moment. Then I noticed the tire was hitting the frame, once every revolution. It was like a manacle clapping closed around my mind. The inevitable encircled me. I would not be able to...

Ohio: The Rust Belt Buckle

The CSX intermodal train came from deep in the terminal facility just south of where I was sitting and stopped for clearance with several rideable 53’s situated right in front of me. I had passed up several other trains earlier that had been led by the sleek black engines of the Norfolk Southern. I was in Cincinnati, Ohio at the massive Queensgate Yard, where both railroads operated in close proximity. I was trying to go towards Cleveland where I potentially had work and could play music with a friend. I knew that and Norfolk Southern train would likely take me to Chicago or Ft. Wayne, Indiana. Both were opposite where I was trying to go. As far as I knew, CSX would most likely put me Columbus or Toledo. So I climbed onto this train hoping...

Getting to Trolltunga

After Kjeragbolten we headed further north in order to reach Trolltunga, another hike we’ve been really looking forward to. After stopping to get out of a wild car winding through the narrow streets of Norway, we were left in a tiny country town with zero traffic. We were so lucky to have been picked up by an amazing couple – two students working on an old farm museum – who took us back to their place (the oldest wooden house in that region of Norway, built in the 1800’s using timber from so much earlier), shared a beer with two Germans who were camping out front, made us dinner and shared more Norwegian beers and also gave us a warm place to sleep. It’s so heartwarming to meet people like this on our travels...

Pioneers

The southern coast of Iceland is among the most beautiful and dramatic parts of Iceland. It is also one of the least hospitable areas, dominated by washed-out sand and lava flows, and an exposed coastline with no natural harbours for hundreds of kilometres west of Höfn. Inevitably given its location, it was the first part of Iceland that many travellers came to, including the very first Norse settler, Ingolf Arnarson. It shows either confidence or desperation that Ingolf and the settlers that followed him pushed on past this unpromising beginning to find good land and safe harbours further round the coast. Ingólfshöfði In 874, according to The Book of Settlements, Ingolf Arnarson and his sworn-brother Hjorleif arrived in Iceland and were...

Real De Catorce - Mexico (10/05/11)

I stand like an idiot with my thumb over a tunnel that stretches out into blackness. My wallet has been stolen in the café. I have lost my peace of mind to dehydration. Now it’s night. There is no alternative plan, there is no need for hesitation. In a tourist town with one exit and more mules than cars I have only a bus ticket for a city at least four hours drive away. That bus leaves in nine hours. I wait, a respectful distance from the entrance so that the driver will have time to stop. Occasionally I shoot a glance towards the last of the market women as they pack away their unsold merchandise. Are they from one of the surrounding towns? When I ask the women if they are travelling in my direction, they say “no” and point...

New Journey

      Just scratched my old blog, starting new as I am graduated. Different approach to life. Fun journey ahead (I hope).   ps: planning my one month-ish hitchhiking trip to the east. with my GoPro!  

Somaliland: guns, germs and happy meal

Everyone who is heading to Somaliland puts him/herself in great danger. The danger of sounding like an arrogant asshole in all subsequent travel talks: ‘Somaliland? Yeah, been there, rode a camel and ate Al-Shabaab for breakfast!’ Al-Shabaab is not a local variety of kebab. It’s a terrorist group in Somalia and a boogeyman of East Africa. When I just arrived to Somaliland I pretty much felt like this: No Rush When, in fact, I was a sweaty mess and wore this t-shirt. SEX DRUGS ROCK’N’ROLL, just coffee for me, thanks Needless to mention, it’s now a new trend on local markets. There is a competitive side to travel culture that only long-term travellers come in contact with: all countries are categorized by their coolness....

Trampin' the Texas & Pacific

Jailbird Chris and I caught an eastbound Manifest in Tucson, Arizona heading somewhere in Texas. We didn’t care if it went to Ft. Worth or San Antonio, either would do. We settled into an open boxcar that was full of giant sheets of cardboard and large sheets of crumbled brown packaging paper. It was as if someone un-wrapped a giant UPS package and discarded the trash inside this boxcar. We laid out the cardboard flat in the front corner of the car and then piled the paper in front of us so that if somebody looks into the boxcar it would look like a giant pie of paper and trash. We wanted to roll through El Paso as discreetly as possible because we had just gotten tickets there 3 days ago trying to catch an eastbound. After we got the...

South African White Girl Grows Up PART 2 (2000)

He took me into an area I’d never been to before: Bertrams. Depressing! Mongrel dogs, with tails drooping in U-shapes off their asses…“How do I liiiive without you” playing from more than one cheap radio… We stuck out like sore thumbs in his nice white BMW, yet he seemed to be in his element, and I could immediately tell he was well-known and admired in those parts. He pointed out one of the many run-down old houses and told me that an “18 year old girl” he’d “taken out” recently lived there and her parents, who he had done “business” with, had approached his father , claiming “the little bitch” was pregnant by him, obviously hoping for some kind of piece of some kind of pie. But he was in his late Thirties already, so “Oh! How...

Sleepless Night in Forsand

 We left Preikestolen in the early evening and managed to hitch most of the way to Forsand, where a ferry to our next destination was to leave the following morning. We had no accommodation planned after arriving at dusk, so we found a well lit area by the water to crash for the night. As the sky turned completely black, went noticed a little light through a window, only to find an unlocked door with super clean showers and washing machines and dryers – a sleepless night became a productive night.

Thumbing the Highlands

1st-18th September, 2013 View Larger Map “Where ye headed?” He asks through an open wind

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