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:

New Friends, Old Feelings

The last morning of 2010 awoke positively and proud of finding a campsite to relax. It was a welcome feeling, this Content Bridge of my childhood transplanted on the southern Gran Sabana of Venezuela. First, a man tells me that i’m 5 minutes walk away from the salto (waterfall) and I realize, in the moments of great loneliness, there can be a respite so close. Nice chat and sip of whiskey with another group, then I cross the river myself camera in hand to get as close to the falls as possible spurned on by the fearless children playing. On return, I begin to pull my camp apart to mitigate the early morning condensation on blankets and tent cover, and interrupted by a short round lady from the nearby cabins asking if I would like some food. Would I? Within 20 mins I’m joining her and her friends at the cabin for a once a year treat Ayaca, an empanada type meal wrapped in plantana leaf. We end up having a long relaxing chat, meeting 3 couples that come to this very place from Valencia and Caracas each year, up to 23 years counting. They all want photos of the bike of course, and to make it special i tell them to climb on, with leather jacket and chrome dome. They invite me to stay there for the huge fire, and i’m extremely tempted. Do i continue this ravenous desire to reach my goal, at the cost of comfort, companionship, and love? Yes, yes I do. I expect I can get that when I get home. Now, is for beating my fears into pulp. Destroying them forevermore. Onward Brasil! Anyone can do this trip, but those who are desperate to change, and want it bad enough, can make it that much further, and that much more enjoyable.

They tell me I have to see Jaspe, and not knowing much about it, I listen anyways without disappointment. A short walk through the indigenous village and an otherworldly sight awaited, with waterfalls over hardrock, through a river bottom made of black hard rock with orange stripes throughout. The beauty of the water flowing overtop of this slick rock was an image i’ll remember forever, and the locals were equally breathtaken, as they laid on the rock, hid behind the waterfall, and let the water refresh them. In a country that seemed so sad and downtrodden and scared, this was their respite, their vacation, their moment in the sun to forget about politics, and money. A highlight of the trip, and such a welcome little surprise.

The river floor plays a brilliant game of deception; it seems to be as craggy as the moon despite being perfectly smooth and flat.

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Videos of my journey