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:


A German, Aussie couple and I made a small trek around the other side of the mountain to hang out in the tidal pools. They were full of scuttling black crabs, small fish and coral-like vegetation. We returned to see Nikki's baby possum, and all weigh in on the moral dilemma of nature vs. nurture. A Canadian couple from Calgary came over to Matilda's and mentioned the Canucks game they saw a couple nights before, and the impending game this night. We've got to go I exclaimed, so we set out for the umpteenth time back to Madera through the rocks and waves, seconded a vehicle within minutes of arrival and made the 15 minute ride into town. Canucks lost again, a disappointing result, but a fun night chatting despite the Czech guy who kept on insisting to me that Canadians love to fight, and that every Canadian hockey player fights. He almost made himself right.

We were stuck again that night in Madera faced with a dark passage along the beach. But we made it.

I was up this morning early, and a good thing because Doug and Deanna, my American ride into Rivas, showed up at Madera an hour earlier than expected. We got into San Juan and had a ecologically minded breakfast amongst several great books for reading at exorbitant prices and the owner's reviews of her fave books. Then, into Rivas, another 30 km, and I was in the back of the truck, and slapped the side when I saw the mechanic's shop.

The motorbike was a shell, really. The motor was ripped apart, and I could see the damage to the piston and arm. Could have made it easier on myself if I had just stopped the bike but on the other hand who knows what would have happened. Took the saddle bags to the next door, then a bike taxi down to a biek shop, purchased a new Chinese built piece of krap bike, made my way back 30 km to San Juan, stopped in at Gato Negro, chatted with Rebekkah, and had my favourite lobster deep fried on the beach.

Then it was a tough ride on the krappy Chinese made bike through the dirt roads to Playa Maderas. 40 km biking today. Now its relax with a book and wait for the surf. I return to Rivas for 7 am tomorrow morning to meet the taxi driver, and the mechanic to head off to Managua to get the motor repaired. Just zen.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Videos of my journey