Writer's Block. One Big, Fat, Red Lego Block.

It's hard to even know what to say - let alone what to think. Thrilled? Definitely. Totally out of my mind excited for what this means? Absolutely. Am I about to crap my pants with the thought of fear on how to go on from here? Yessir-ee-bob.

Within the period of 2 days Alex and I have received word from 3 more magazines who have agreed to print articles regarding our trek across New Zealand. What started as a brilliant sponsorship through Adventure Travel Magazine who has decided to do an article on our journey has turned into a multi-magazine event. Now Alex and I have added Australian Geographic, Women Sport Report and Endurance Sport magazines to our list of sponsors helping us out by spreading the word.

And it's not just the articles that Alex and I are stoked about. It's the fact that the 3 we received word from in the last few days all are asking US to write the articles for it. What does one even do with information like that? Sure, I have been writing this blog for a while now, but to write an article for a magazine? Definitely something to chew on for sure. Feels as though I am back in school - only I am not just worried about whether I did good enough to get a A+ on the report. People are actually going to read what has been written. People who buy the magazine. People who want to know what Alex and I are up to. People who want to know more. People who want to be inspired. People.

It's totally, completely and utterly exciting. And equally intimidating. Where does one begin? What do they say? I think back to all the articles I've read about various adventurers out there who have done some amazing things and I am in awe at how inspiring their articles came across to me. They sounded like they knew what they were doing. They seemed as though all their ducks were in a row. The biggest care they had was just to do their journey - no word was said about the difficulty of doing the prep work - about being in the midst of trying to do an article for a well-read magazine. Let alone 3 of them at one time.

And then there's something such as the news Women Sport Report gave us. They don't just want an article about us in their magazine. They want to do an entire feature. And not just a feature - they hope to be able to follow us along our journey by posting snippets of our blog entries and stuff to keep their readers up-to-date. That is so absolutely and utterly cool and yet I am completely at a loss as to how to not screw it up.

That being said - I have faith in Alex and I. We will come together and figure it out. We have come this far by learning as we go. And this is just one more thing we have to do. And it is probably one of the most amazing things we are doing to prepare for this trek. Okay - that's not ENTIRELY true. It was pretty cool to be able to get our websites up and going. To figure out how to get some advertisment pamphlets printed. To receive word that some outdoor gear companies will sponsor us. To partner with an amazing organization such as Indigo Foundation who is as excited about us raising money for their Solomon Island project as we are. And we haven't even gotten to New Zealand yet.

I think back maybe a year ago and think of where I was at. I was maybe somewhere around Nelson, BC - having trekked from Banff to there on my own. I was debated whether I should continue on or just put the pack away for a while and settle in Nelson. I never would have imagined I would be where I am today - talking to companies, promoting a trek, gaining sponsorship, seriously planning to trek the distance of a country, raising money for an something I truely believe in. Never. Not even in my wildest dreams. And yet I am here - so maybe, just maybe, on some level the idea for this was always there - though I am scared out of my mind at trying to figure out all this stuff as we go along and not screw up, I feel at peace with what I am doing. I am doing what I am meant to do. What I should do. What I want to do. I am living my dream. My one life adventure.

I am being me.

Backpackers

Backpacker n.

A species of human who travels with limited supplies, usually only with what can fit in a pack strapped to their backs. One may view these organisms as they live our their daily lives in the midst of travelling around the world. They can be in the wild doing some long distance hiking. They may be spotted in popular exotic tourist destinations. They may be your co-worker. They may be at the next tent site at your caravan park. Keep your eyes open as backpackers live with a cameleon mentality and easily blend into the environment they are in - whether or not they actually know what they are doing there.

They do not come with a lot of money and may be spotted wearing the same set of clothing for days on end. Laundry is not a priority for these humans and when it is done, one can observe them "cleaning" their clothes and linen in a wash basin. Laundry detergent is a thing of luxary for these people and, as such, do not be surprised to find them using dish soap, hand soap, body wash or even no cleaning supplies whatsoever to clean their clothes.

Laundry aside, backpackers come in all shapes and sizes and are, yes, from all countries of the world. They talk loud and rapidly and usually about things that are seemingly random topics of conversation. Should you spot a backpacker, feel free to join in the conversation or simply stand by and observe as the conversation will surely jump from topics of the price of carrots to the next place of travel to debating the cost of a phone call to Europe to who has the had the strangest work experience. No topic is off limits with backpackers and as an outsider to this species you may find yourself become rapidly engaged at the freedom of speech - occassionaly spoken in multiple languages at the same time.

Though you may constantly spot the same backpacker lazing around and doing nothing, do not be fooled. Backpackers are considerably hard workers and when questioned, will regularly tell of their lengthy work days and how they juggle 2, sometimes 3 jobs at one time. Though they may work a lot at one point in time, a limited amount of money is ever spent. It all goes to the bank for their next great adventure and, as such, backpackers regularly come up against resistence from fellow human beings who are offended over a backpacker's sense of "cheapness" in consumerism. This complex organism will walk 5km to town to save on the $3.50 bus fare. They will scrounge for free food from their jobs and refuse to buy bread from one store if they heard it was 50 cents cheaper at the next. They will ask for special discounts on absolutely everything. There is no shame for them.

That being said, do not confuse their cheapness for selfishness. Backpackers as a species can be some of the most generous people you meet. If you ask, they will generally find some way to give. Provided you are not trying to rip them off. They tend to have a sixth sense about these things and is one of the few things that angers them greatly.

As backpackers are generally thought to be of the travelling, free-spirited type, do not expect them to stick around in one place for too long. Before you know it, they will pack everything up, strap their packs to their back and disappear into the world to most likely never be seen again. So get to know them while you can. Spend time with them. Learn their language. Listen to their story. Do not simply walk by and gawk at them as they sit sprawled out in front of their tents excitedely eating a piece of fruit they managed to scrounge up. Do not stand and stare at them as they raid the op shop as though they are shopping the greatest sale of all time. And do not, I repeat, do not make smart remarks that are seemingly funny regarding how their packs must weigh a lot, how they should be washing their hair or the dreads will set in, how when they are finally saying goodbye to the family they have made and come to love that they are taking a long time to leave.

Backpackers are a species of their own, one that when their time is come they may morph into a respectable citizen with a house, car, dog, spouse, white picket fence and all that comes with it. Or maybe they will just stay as they are, doing the things that most humans will never do and only dream of. Their story is a special one and one to be respected - not one to be spied at as though they are a caged animal at the zoo. They are dirty. They are cheap. They are some of the most adventureous human beings of all times and remind the rest of human kind that the world is out there to be explored and experienced at it's fullest. 

The Home Stretch

Things have quieted down considerably since Hannah and Alex have left the caravan park. And not just because they have left. In the past few days it almost feels as though it is just me and Mr. Randall Burns (aka: the lizard) sitting around and contemplating life. Okay - it's more just me doing the life contemplating as Mr. Burns has developed the habit of racing around my tent in circles before he stops to pose outside my front entrance and give me his most intense stare.

It's nice to have the quiet, even if sometimes it throws me off that I can hear myself think. And that's not just because Alex and Hannah have left. It's a lot of things. The past couple weeks have been a whirlwind of activity of which I hardly felt as though I have had time to breathe. And then I literally had trouble even just doing that - breathing - when I got sick last this past Wednesday and pretty much laid like a vegetable in my tent for 5 days straight.

But now I am feeling better. The love rug has re-situated itself outside my tent door and with an arrangement of chairs it has become the new spot to hang out. Or at least for Kirstin, Sam and I. And there are still no new occupants to the empty tent sites here in the backpacker's realm of the caravan park.  And because Alex and I pushed so hard to get things organized before she left and because I made the most of my sick time to catch up even more on New Zealand preparations - I almost feel as though I am on vacation. I mean, the beach IS right there. And aside from the still near 60 hour work week, I am.

Six more weeks to go and then I will be leaving Broome. Six more weeks and I will be saying goodbye to yet another home, another family, another life I have had for the past while. Six more weeks is all I have to make the most of and it will fly by. Or so I hope.

As much as I love it here in Broome, this is not where my story ends. Not even close. The bigger picture is what I hold to my mind's eye every day. Every minute. Every waking second I am here. Broome is the passing-through zone and I can't wait until these six weeks are up. Even still, there is so much left to do here in Broome. Aside from the sand, surf and sun, there's still work - and lot's of it. There's lots of little tweeks to be made on my website(s). Lots of companies to contact for my trek with Alex. Lots of support to be made.

So I suppose I should take this moment of silence for what it is. A break. A pause in the going-ons of everything I have become used to. A time of reflection, prepartion and healing. A time to look ahead and get excited for what's around the corner. A time to begin the next great adventure.

One life to live. One life to achieve our goals and dreams. Welcome to my life.

Is it possible that everything's true? The fairy tales and horror stories? Is it possible that there isn't anything sane and normal at all?

Title Quote: Twilight - New Moon


Okay. So I did it. Finally. I caved and watched Twilight. Or at least I caved and watched the second one, New Moon. It was the only one I could rent at the time and I needed to see what all the hype was about. Quite frankly, I just don't see it. All it is is a series of movies developed around a teen love story - one that has vampires, warewolves and everything else related. Sure, some of the actor/actresses are nice to look at, but they're also playing 17-year-old characters. Or 109-year-old vampires pretending to be 17-years-old. And that's just plain wierd.

And through all the cheesey lines, I did like the one that's the title for this blog. Makes me think, what if it IS all true? What if all the stories we hear as little children are real? What if the basis for our imagination as a child is something that is never really proven false, just hidden by all of life's fakeness? As a child we're encouraged to believe that we can be anything, do anything and that the world is ours for the taking. We're encouraged to dream big. We're told that anything is possible if we only believe.

Sure, there may not be a man in a bright red suit to fly presents on his reindeer-drawn sleight to all the little girls and boys. There may not actually be mermaids and we may not ever be able to fly with pixie dust. We might never come face-to-face with a Care Bear or be running for our lives from a vampire coming to suck blood. The characters and imaginative stories lines may always be something of fiction in our lives, but the basis for their existence is true in every sense and I think as we become adults push those childish concepts to the back corners of our brain.

Because the truth is - fairytales are real. They happen every day. Every moment around the world people are achieving their dreams and goals - they are doing things they never thought were possible. They are taking the chances and risks to succeed. They are hanging onto the things that matter and making the most of every moment. They are living in their own wonderland and it's so much better than Alice's because it's real.

But the same is true of horror stories. They are out there staring us in the face whether we like it or not. There are people in the world who are bad. There are those out there that intend to destroy. And sometimes it's not just humans - sometimes the horror story is one of nature as well. Natural disasters occur nearly every day on this planet and few even acknowledge the imapact it has people's lives.

I don't think there is anything "sane" and "normal" in this world and I wouldn't want there to be. Everyone's life is a complex design of innerworkings and that is the beauty of life itself. I have my own fairytale life. One of which I have the opportunity to live with some amazing people in a community I view much like my own family of blood. Living in a tent. Living a block from the coast of the Indian Ocean. Living and working as I prepare to fulfill my current dream of walking the length of New Zealand. It's not easy, but what fairytale is? There is no beginning to my fairytale story. No "once upon a time." It just is.

And there is no ending either as I battle out the horror stories of this world. Raising money for Indigo Foundation's Solomon Island's project is just one of the very small ways I can help out. People all too frequently sit back and banter about the innerworkings of the latest horror story. Few are ready to actually take a stand and do something about it. But in this project for Indigo Foundation, I am learning that the people willing to change the world for the better are far more than I ever thought possible. And by doing what Alex and I are doing ($10000 will provide 2 years of support for the Solomon Island project), we hope to change this one horror story into a fairytale ending.

And so, yes, I think it's all real. Everything we learned as a child is still here and present in our adult life. There still are good and bad. Each of us has a story. Each of us has a struggle to overcome. Each of us has something to learn. We can still do anything we want. Achieve anything we want. Be anything we want. Nothing is impossible. All we have to do is believe. Believe in ourselves. Believe in each other. Believe our world is a wonderland.

So step outside of your sane and normal existence and help us out. It doesn't take much to make a difference. Alex and I still have our $5 challenge - $5 (a cup of coffee at Starbucks) is not much. But it is all of us pitching in together that will make a bigger difference than a few massive donations from a handful of people. Think like a child. Share a little and watch how far it goes. Think of the people the money will go to. $5 will help build up a community for the longterm. For forever.

Alex and I will take care of the walking New Zealand bit.

3000 KM. 5 Months. 2 Adventurers. 1 Country. Te Araroa Trek.

Beautiful Day

Alex and Hannah have gone. Left this morning - shortly after I called in sick for the second day in a row. My head feels like a bowling ball about to explode and it makes it difficult to find the words I want to say. And yet, I continue to write because today is a beautiful day.

With all the changes going on in my life, I figured I should change the look of my blog. Still with the same information, but a slightly different look. You might also have noticed Alex and I have changed the design of our donation button for Indigo Foundation. It's still linked through Paypal so all donations are secure. You still receive a receipt and all donations are still tax-deductable. But now you can see information on what the latest donation amounts have been, what the money is going towards and you can even add the donation button to your own site to help us promote what we are doing.

Oh yeah - and one other minor detail. Alex and I have raised our goal amount to $10000. Doubling what we once were initially aiming to achieve, we feel that due to all the positive response we are getting for this project - why not see if we can push for more? It's all for a good cause and for those of you who are worried about where the money is actually going. No worries - Alex and I did plenty of research and have ensured that all the money raised will be going towards one specific project - the Solomon Islands project. Given the budget they have for this project, should Alex and I reach our new goal of $10000, we will literally be funding them for the next 2 years. Not too shabby.

So help us out. Our $5 challenge - if you haven't heard yet - still stands. We challenge each and every person to just pitch in $5. It's not a lot. It's like a cup of coffee from Starbucks. Hardly a major sacrifice and yet if enough people pitch that small amount in, we will be reaching our goal in no time.

With all the excitement surrounding the trek, Alex and I are also in the middle of developing a promotional video that will be used on both our websites along with a function with Indigo Foundation on October 23. In the meantime, we have started posting video clips on YouTube so you can follow us there. Check it out HERE. I have also added a video to the homepage of ONE.LIFE Adventures.

So with all this blah, blah, blah - Alex and I have spent our last few moments together cramming in a photoshoot, interviewing each other, making lists and chilling on the beach. It's hard to believe that she's gone and it's even harder to believe that the next time we see each other we will be meeting in Auckland.

It is a beautiful day.

Nothing But a Broomstick

Everyone's leaving. Gone. Goodbye. It's one of the hardest parts of travelling. It's not like when someone goes away on vacation. It's not the same as when you have summer holidays and know that the start of next school year you'll see the people again. It's not even as though we're all Australian and will probably meet up again somewhere else down under. Goodbye generally means just that. Goodbye.

That being said, we still do say, "see ya later." Only later generally means months or even years down the road. And we also will generally won't meet up at the coffee house down the street. We won't even really talk of seeing each other in the neighboring city. We more or less will rephrase it such as "see you in Thailand/New Zealand/South America."

My friends I have made since travelling have come from all over the world. They may eventually go back to their home countries. They may end up somewhere completely different. Regardless, when we part ways, it is kind of left to destiny or fate or whatever you believe in as to whether or not you may share another moment in time with that person. The closest thing I may ever come to seeing these friends again may only be through Facebook. Then again, maybe we WILL find each other one random day in a random place. Who knows. What I do know is that it is hard to say goodbye. And the more people I meet, the less effort I put into making plans to see each other again. Because the reality of it is that that just may never happen.

Yesterday 5 of my friends left. Inge (Netherlands) took off in her 4WD with Larissa, Sam (UK) and Mona (Germany) to head up north through the Kimberleys along the Gibb River Road. And I miss them already. Later in the afternoon Yuri (Japan) informed me that she, too, was going and wouldn't be coming back to the caravan park. She packed up her things and left and now the only thing that remains is a broomstick she had made to clean up around her tent.

Come this Friday more people will leave. And in a week or two, another set of people are planning on going to. Alex is one of them. We have been frantically trying to prepare as much as possible before she sets off with Hannah to go to Darwin, on route to the UK (Hannah heads to Melbourne) -- we have 2 days left and it's not near the amount of time we need. At least with both Hannah and Alex I know I will see them again. Alex and I will meet up in New Zealand and Hannah plans to return to Broome in a month to finish off the season.

In all of this, the hardest part is being the one left behind. It's easier to be the one leaving. It's easier to be the one making the choices in how to leave, when to leave and where to head to next. To be the one left behind there is simply just a hole where that person used to fit into your life - a hole that you neither know how or want to fill. All you can do is say goodbye.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

It was time. I cut it. Chopped it all off. Okay, maybe not ALL of it - but my head is definitely feeling about 10lbs lighter now that I have had my hair cut. I had been debating it for a while now, and though I loved having my long hair, it wasn't looking to be any fun trekking for 5 months in New Zealand with limited hair-washing times with it that long. I needed to not have to worry about it. I needed to have it shorter.

Fortunately for me, as I live in a caravan park, there are people of random occupations that also live here too. Travelling hairdressers included. One happened to cycle through our camp area and asked if any of us were needing haircuts. He would be happy to do it for $20. Both Hannah and I asked if we could be fit in for the following day and he set up some times with us. I only hoped my work shifts would be okay for me to fit it in inbetween.

So the following day I worked at housekeeping and ran out of there at precisely 2:15pm to make it to the appointment. I then ran all the way to the hairdressers campsite to which he plopped me up on his newly purchased hairdressing chair and asked what I wanted done. I told him. I don't own a hairbrush. I don't want to have to worry about bedhead or styling and I certainly don't want to have to worry about cutting it as it grows out. I needed something to last me untill the end of next February as that's when Alex and i hope to be finished our trek. So he flipped through a magazine, pointed out a couple suggestions and I said "okay." And then he chopped it off.

I am now left with a roll-out-of-bed style and the remains of a ponytail I am currently using to freak everyone out with as I figure out where I can donate my cut hair to. Life is good.

Well - life WAS good until it decided to start raining here in Broome. Not that I have anything against rain, but when living in a tent on a dirt ground not built for soaking in water during weather of which is dumping rain so hard one can't run to the washroom without getting soaked - well, it's a little wet.

Yesterday was, in particular, the worst. It rained the entire night before and we woke up to it raining. I got ready for work in the rain. Ate breakfast in the rain and eventually walked to my shift in the rain. And then, as I am sure you have guessed, I worked my housekeeping job in the rain. By the time I came back to the caravan park for a much-needed hot shower and warm meal, I felt and looked like a drowned rat. Before I could strip of my soaked uniform, I ran into Hannah who was standing ankle-deep in a puddle that had overcome our entire camping area. The tarp that was tied to the trees above and was momentarily sheltering her from the rain was rapidly filling with water and threatening to dump at any moment. So I joined her under the tarp and we scoped out the situation. It didn't take us long to figure out that we needed to do something - and soon - the puddle would soon become a lake if we didn't.

So we put our brains together and came up with a solution. Quite simply, we had to divert the water away from the tents by building trenches. Hannah and I zipped up our raincoats and moved the tents out of the way, rigged the tarp overhang up better and grabbed what we could find to dig the trenches. We came up with a wooden spoon and an oar. So we dug.

Using skills Hannah and I developed playing with dirt as 7-year-olds we dug our way out of a flood. Residents of caravans stood, neither wet nor muddy, under their umbrellas and watched on. One even warned us of digging too close to the elecrical outlet box that is secured on top of a fence post and nowhere near the ground. She also reminded us that she too had stuff she was trying to keep dry under her caravan and was worried that the water we were diverting would be sent her way. She failed to understand that we were on a mission to clear water away from our entire home and a small box under her caravan of things she wasn't using at the moment was not the top of our priority list to save. Particularly when she didn't offer to lend a hand. Or a shovel.

Eventually we were able to trench our way to the road where the water started to drain out of our area. We had saved our tents. Or at least the tents in our area. Others were not so lucky. I ended up going off to work at Zanders for the evening and when I came back everyone was crammed in the baby change room trying to stay dry as they had come home to find their belongings floating in half a foot of water within their tent. Many had to sleep on wet mattresses and even more decided to opt out of the tent experience and find somewhere else to sleep for the night.

Fortunately, my tent withstood the entire episode. It had never experienced so much rain in such a short time and it did me proud. Made me even more confident that Alex and I will be able to survive in it for 5 months as we trek Te Araroa Trail. Life still is good - or at least untill this weekend when we are supposed to get even more rain. So much for the dry season.

525 600 Minutes

Claire and I went to the Sunday markets in Broome with relative success. I say this because we were told to show up super early (by 6:30am) in order to secure a spot for a table as it was first-come, first-serve for all the casual sellers. We arrived by 6:10am and spoke with a permanent market seller who blatently stated that we had no need to be there until almost 8am as that is when all the casuals are given spaces. I spose we should have been happy that we were not late. However, we were too tired to make note of the positive side and instead walked our way to McDonald's in hopes that their chemically-induced non-food would cheer us up.

By 7:30am we were able to "register" and as we were so early, we signed up to be first on the list. Claire and I figured this to be a good thing as we were told things ran on a first-come, first-serve basis. People forgot to inform us that there was also the "keep it in the family" rule as well. So, as it turned out, as we were not part of the "market familiy" our names on the list got overlooked untill we elbowed our way to the front of the group of casuals and demanded to be given the spot that the organizer deemed too hot in the sun. We didn't care about the sun. We just wanted to sell our things.

And sell our things we did. Eventually. The markets were rather quiet this particular Sunday and so the first couple hours consisted of us sitting there trying to keep our eyes open as the few passerbys would merely glance at our things and then proceed to walk off at the first signs of us attempting conversation with them. Sometimes we didn't even get out the word "Hello" before they were gone.

But then we had success. In a blur, people started to come and actually buy things. The struggle to wake up at 5:15 that morning was worth it. So Claire and I promptly decided to go and sell things at the Monday night markets that occur with the Staircase to the Moon.

And we went. Only this time we didn't show up 2 hours before we had to. But the rest was about the same. We sold absolutely nothing until the last half hour. Scratch that. We bought food until the last half hour and then people decided to buy our things.

It was tough. It was a learning experience. It was definitely something I want to try again. Afterall, half of all my sales went to the Indigo Foundation and given I sold anything at all - I figure the markets were a success.

More than the markets - today marks my one year anniversary. One year ago I left Calgary. 12 months to this day I adjusted my backpack straps and took my first steps onto a trail that would lead across British Columbia. 52 weeks I have been travelling. 365 days of adventure I never will forget. 8760 hours of a journey I never thought would be possible. 525 600 minutes of everything I ever dreamed of. And then some.

To look back on where I started at - I still remember the butterflies in my stomach as I took my first steps up the 5km hill from Sunshine Village parking lot into the wild wilderness of British Columbia. I remember wondering what I had gotten myself into. No one was making me do what I was doing and yet I was doing it. I remember the weight of the pack. The smell of the trees mixed with the dust on the road. I remember wondering what was to come next. Where the journey would take me. Whether I would come out the other side.

But I did it. I made it to Vancouver, BC. Walking. I made it over Jumbo Pass. Across rivers. I climbed over fallen trees, up steep mountain trails and boulders. I walked until my feet aches and screamed in pain, and then I walked more. I walked through snow, in rain and under the heat of the day. I did it all and made it to the other side. And then I kept on going. I explored all Vancouver had to offer and then some. I did Vancouver Island and then took the train down to L.A. I stopped off for some hiking and mountain bike riding in Bend, OR. I helped my cousin move into her dorm room for her first year at Uni. I travellled overnight by train and ended up in L.A. early enough to FINALLY figure out how their insane airport works. And then I flew to Sydney - all the while wondering where my journey would take me.

In Sydney, I fell in love with the massive city. I made friends with people who became my family. I lived at a hostel for an entire month. I lived in Bondi, one of the most famous beach of the world. I went to movies under the stars, played tennis in December and learned to surf. And five months after that my journey continued up the East coast of Australia.

Australia has been everything I thought it would be and it has been more. Every step of the way I have discoverd something new and absolutely fascinating. I have come face-to-face with animals and creatures I have only ever read about. I have experience a ridiculous amount of climate change and survived the outback. And I did it all on the left side of the road.

And now here I am in Broome, where camels have their own crossing signs and people make nights out of watching the moon. Here to celebrate my one year anniversary. One year gone. One year past. It's not exactly a champagne and strawberries moment, but it is here just the same. And it's not over yet. I can only imagine where this adventure will take me with the next year to come. Who knows where I will be come another 525 600 minutes. 8760 hours. 365 days. 52 weeks. 12 months. One year.