This blog's for ME

Almost 25 years old, asking my parents if I can sleep in their bed with them. I had thought I was going to be the 25th Prime Minister of Canada. Things had changed. 10 years later, I was still a scared little boy. The time had come to slap myself awake. One Saturday morning, November 19th, 2009, I declared to the world I would be riding my 10 year-old motorcycle from Vancouver, BC Canada to Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, and back.

The official departure was August 28th, 2010. A group of well-wishers saw me off at 8:03 am.

I arrived in Rio de Janeiro around 6 pm March 1st, 2011.

My return to Vancouver came on July 5th, 2011 about 2:00 pm.

Drug & alcohol abuse, ADD, social anxiety, health, chronic pain, night terrors.

So many concerns. But I am far more interested in this question: Do I have the capacity to make this trip despite all my shortcomings?

My mission: To inspire myself to face my fears, enlighten myself on how all living things can peacefully co-exist, enjoy every moment, and see the world as plentiful and generous.

Go ahead. Call me crazy. Call me anything you like.

I'm out to save my world.


Questions, comments, concerns, threats? Contact me:

Spreading Thin

Leaving at 6 am Saturday morning from San Jose, my plan was to hit Brasilito to visit Richard and Lisa, two friends from Alberta, then head south through Guanacaste to Hojancha, to do a story on a finca owner I had met at my hotel a few days earlier. Plans changed early, as the bridge to Pan-Am #1 had been washed out over the weekend, and I was forced to take a detour - north through the mountains. Cold, foggy, and rainy, I finally came out the west side of the Arenal Volcano area doggedly determined to make up the 2 hours I had lost slowly winding through slippery mountainous roads. I arrived in Brasilito at 1 pm, 3 hours after I expected.

Richard and Lisa generously paid the hotel $85 US just for me to come down to their room, have a few drinks, and use the pool. I had never been to a swim-up bar before, and they had rented a private cabana for the week as well. I've always known Lisa as someone who says exactly what she thinks, and whether I liked it or not, her first comment to me was that my goatee looked like there could be an animal hiding inside of it. At least you always know where you stand with her, and it is the same with her mother, whom I accompanied to Africa for 3 weeks in '06. They've become dear friends, and can usually take it as much as they give it. I do appreciate this and my skin can grow thicker, knowing there's still lots of love there.

After a few short hours, it was time to say goodbye in hopes of reaching my next spot. Nursing a nasty cold, my thoughts, for a rare change, moved towards staying the night in Santa Cruz, only an hour away from Brasilito. Even though my tenacity would normally force me to ride until I reached my destination, my body's needs, for a change, won out over my mind's. I was feeling woozy and could barely breath from the congestion in my lungs and sinuses.

Laying prostrate on that $26/nite hotel bed, I gained some comfort from watching some English TV channels and slept well.

The next morning started with some much needed exercise to clear my head and achey muscles. With ipod in ears and a determined gait I pranced up and down the dirt roads of Santa Cruz, sweating out my pain. The exertion was just too much, and rather than get on the road, I elected to lay down again, and watch some TV. Madagascar: Back 2 Africa was on in English with Spanish subtitles and I laughed - I really thought it was truly brilliant. It was a bit contrived and I wondered aloud how calculated these animated movies have become, with A-list voices, snappy, witty lines, and a seemingly deep moral plot. It seemed to me the generation of animators/directors who grew up without fathers had something to do with it. Either way, they know what makes money now, and are cashing in facetiously.

By the time 1 pm came around, I thought I had better get on the road and prepared while watching a second movie featuring Tim Robbins as a guy who can't stand noise. If he comes upon a car with an alarm going off, he would simply break the window and turn it off. Car horns, sirens, heavy machinery: he made it his personal mission to rid New York City of noise, and paid the price for his predilection by repeated appearances in front of the judge. It looked like he was ready to lose his family and career by the time I had to shut it off.

I related to this man who simply refused to accept the way things are. As of writing this, I can see the error in my ways. I was literally exhausted today from how hard I had pushed myself over the last two days just to do what I said I would do. That being said, NO REGRETS!

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Videos of my journey