TravelStream™ news feed for member gunslinger22 on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/gunslinger22 en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 22 Jul 2008 20:39:29 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1216772880/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1216772880/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1216772880/tpod.html Tue, 22 Jul 2008 20:39:29 -0400 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Kerikeri, New Zealand


I've decided, as a long term white person, (25 years), I'm now going to embrace my tan. Screw you whitey. Where's my grape drink? I want some fried chicken, and I want it Cheap. So solly cholly, no more WASP's here. I'm gonna open me a 7-Eleven and carry my whole extended family around in a dirty old Ford LTD then park it on the lawn. Now if your not too offended, read on.
In my recent travels the only people that have screwed me over or made me want to punch kittens have been pasty faced honkey mofo's. Except for the aboriginal woman who pooped in the grocery store and the aboriginal jerk that beat up my friend. But there was Rum involved, and everyone knows that can make things go rather strangely. So, negro-a-go-go. Whatever that means.
Here's the worst offenders.


Honkey Mofo #1- Crazy Don the Bikey (not you Dad you don't even have a bike) C-Don, as his inmates probably call him was the biggest wife beating drooling idiot in Australia. I removed his wife from his presence in a 30km/hr car chase because he was turbo drunk and I didnt want him to crash. At least not into someone else. She was living in a campground with my brother and my mule Kyle and I brought her to the police as she asked. He decided he would have me killed. He also stole all his wifes clothes, put them in a pile on the ground, and shat on them. I assume he studied at the London School of Fine Arts. I took this all as useless threats until 6 months later my poor mule Kyle ran into him in Darwin, 4000km away. He informed Kyle that if he ever saw me again he would have me beaten to death in my sleep, his large bikey friends seemed to agree. According The Gambler, this is the best we can hope for...I disagree. He then told Kyle that he had decided to "do the right thing by him" and not beat him to death in his sleep. He brought him a beer and called a truce. Ah, what a comfy night sleep Kyle must have had in his tent. We should have gone with Kyles original (and somewhat creepy) idea and tie his hands behind his back and make him fall on a sharp stick. Ha!
His wife gets included in the honkey mofo category as well as she later went back to him and will now deserve whatever she gets. Maybe.


Honkey Mofo # 1.5- An addition to the Crazy Don story...The donut chomping cop, who, after C-Don had done all this, decided to only hold him overnight and then let him go...even though there was a warrant out for his arrest. You suck, Augusta Police department...also who brings their kid on a domestic dispute call?


Honkey Mofo # 2- The Ditch Squatting Bastards who stole all our stuff out of the back of our truck in Broome. I mean come on folks, when its that hot out and our truck is broken down, we don't need the extra stress of noticing a few hundred dollars worth of gear missing. You mouth breathing slack jawed cross eyed imbred bastards. Actually I don't know what race they were but they qualify as honkey mofo's anyway.


Honkey Mofo #3- The Pukenui Pig and her fat degenerate husband. For more info read the previous travelpod entitled "The Ballad of the Mandarin Man and the Pukenui Pig". Also I was just informed that Pukenui, (the name of the town we were in) also means big belly...so I was inadvertantly very witty in calling Jo the Campground Crackwhore a Pukenui Pig. Zing!


Honkey Mofo #4- The shmuck who sold us our truck, it's been ok but for a supposed mechanical engineer he sure knew how to get every repair he did to the thing just a little bit wrong. Like install the wrong master and slave cylinders on the clutch. Bravo university education...bravo.


Honkey Mofo #5- Old Slow Hand Rick. Rick was my boss at the construction site. A mumbly old man with no ability to communicate with employees. At all. You found out you did something wrong through gossip. Not a construction site but a girls club. Also the slowest contractor on the face of the planet. Agonizing to watch everyone dogfuck so badly that a 1 year project has taken 28 months and is STILL GOING. When I was no longer needed I assumed Rick would thank me for my work and send me on my way, possibly with a letter of reference. What he actually did was ask me "What are you doing here today?" and send me to work on the nearby farm owned by the site owner. The hired man there said "maybe call ahead to make sure theres work" I said...didn't Rick? At this point I was informed by a farm hand that my job of 2 months had ended. Ah respect for employees is beautiful. I hate you like a wart on my weiner Rick.




HonkMofo #4 The Coward Kingsley Thompson and his Titty Sucking Man-Bitch Cam Heron. I haven't written about my job at Heliops so this one needs some background. After working with Rick doing the construction and farm work I soon found work at a helicopter fishing company. It was a sweet job, most of the time I was a yard maintenance guy (mow lawns, keep vehicles serviced, take care of the choppers and the hangers etc.) and I did get to fly a bit. And working on the boss's rally car was pretty sweet too. I liked the job and worked hard and got along with the 3 other people there. I had made friends I thought. Then along came a car. Actually two cars. I was hauling a trailer from nearby Whangerai (Fawn-ga-ray) when a stupid woman ran into my trailer (White woman). After sorting all that out something happened that has scarred me for life. As i stood on the side of the road examining the damage to my trailer an evil presence arrived in the form of an old (white) lady in a blue (maybe white) sedan. I was thinking to myself, glad nobody got hurt, when Mary (might have been Amy or something) took another swig out of her whiskey bottle, popped another tab of acid under her eyelid and screamed "I'm glad! Someone is gonna get Fuckin Hurt!" As she rounded the corner the acid must have really gotten going because she saw me on the side of the road and her brain screamed FASTER PUSSY CAT! KILL! KILL! I heard the car approach and turned to look into the swirling pits of hell she had for eyes. She grinned impishly and floored the accelerator. Her car was weaving wildly all over the road as she bit the head off a kitten and tossed it into the ditch. She waved her bloody hand at me and gave me the finger. The Sky darkened.


I had no time to get out of the way of Mary (Amy?) but as her car ragdolled me into the ditch like yesterdays shitty shorts I just had time to think...Boobies! Obviously.
I spun off into the grass and gravel and slid to a halt a few meters from where Mary/Amy had made her attempt on my life. She walked up to me, kicked some sand into my eyes and spit on my back. I whimpered "Why?". She didn't answer. She just drove away. Without even a how-do-ya-do.


An alternate and possibly more accurate reality would be where a woman hit me with her car after braking hard and tossed me into the ditch. I was OK and stood up quickly to see her running over to make sure I was alive. I lept to my feet, felt for injuries, nothing obvious and shouted "Ten Points!" Which she didn't get and I ended up comforting her more instead of the other way around and in my dazed condition, got her on her way without getting any details once she was done crying. But I'm not sure which memories are true, and which ones are boring. I was rather confused, on account of the car hitting my body.




Now, everything is a bit fuzzy, but here is where The Coward Kingseley Thompson and his Manbitch Cam come in. I called my boss and said I was just hit by a car. He said ok and that he would come get me. 1 Hour later he made the 10 min drive to pick me up, then he took me back to the shop (not once this entire time asking if I was ok). I stumbled over to my truck and drove home with a possible concussion. (Cheers to the Maori secretary who was concerned) No phone calls, nothing. I texted in the next day to say I wouldnt be in since I caould hardly get out of bed. My manager Cam replied thats fine, get better. 3 days passed with only one text saying the woman who hit the trailers insurance company was 'grumpy' because i hadn't gotten them a statement yet. This was accompanied by another message saying 'see ya when you can get in'. I went to work the next day and was told I was an idiot for being hit by a car and that my behaviour had been unacceptable. I was so shocked I almost shit. Of course my boss, Kingsley, was too much of an emotionless chicken shit to talk to me or find out what had happened. So they fired me. I leaned over a table to Cam and stuck my finger in his face and said "Fuck you man. I just can't imagine firing someone who worked for me because they got hit by a car, hurt, and then calling them an idiot, without even trying to find out if they were OK...Luckily for you assholes your paying me under the table so I can't take legal action. Fuck you Cam."


After about 30 min of yelling and whatnot (and I'm not exaggerating) he was almost in tears and telling me maybe I could come back and work. I was so angry I said "Fuckoff. I'm going home. Call me tommorow...but do you really think I could work with people who would screw me like this?". I somehow hate these guys more than crazy Don. At least he was really crazy, not just a dick.


Now with all these honkey Mofo's around you'd think life would suck, but it doesn't. It just gets angry sometimes. And there's lots of straighforward, straight talking and generous people (some may be white) around to give you a sandwich at work...or tell you when your doing something honkey.


By the way, I just found out George Carlin died...he hated so many things with such Passion...I thought he'd live Forever.


Das Goat
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1209683220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1209683220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1209683220/tpod.html Mon, 23 Jun 2008 20:40:39 -0400 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Kerikeri, New Zealand

Sorry in advance for the lack of paragraphs...travlepod screwed me again. I apologize for nothing else.

Let us take a walk in the shoes of a man. Nay, a warrior. A conqueror of nations one might say. A beast. A goddamn animal.
His hair is long. This is not a fashion statement so much as a consequence of apathy. Also the realization that it makes him look angry, and on the verge most of the time. His facial hair is likewise. The aboriginal Maori's can appreciate this. His shoes are large, but let us not infer much because of this. We must be truthful. This is no John Holmes we consider, yet no Wee Willy Winky either. He wears sandals often, but prefers his expensive Vasque boots, they are comfortable, with a hard unforgiving sole. When he puts these boots on a quote from George Orwell's book 1984 often comes to mind. "...a boot stamping on a human face. Forever." Despite the grimness of that he has an easy smile and a penchant for joking. He is a joker, his name means joker in japanese. A superb disguise for the subjugator. This man, who some may call friend and even more would call fiend, is in a foreign land. This land is beautiful, with rolling hills, stark mountains, stunning ocean views. This land is an island in the middle of no-where. This land is weak. And soon, it will be his. For he has grand yet deviously simple plans for this lush ripe fruit. He has taken on greater lands with ease and as soon as his...fuck i can't write with this GODDAMN fly flying around. Holy Christ on a cracker I'm going to freaking snap. What do you want fly? Want my poop? Fly? Flys love poop! I'll go poop and bring you some back, fly. You must want something really bad or you wouldnt fly in my face for 30 min straight. Freakin buzzing. Where was I?

Oh right, the Bay of Islands! We arrived in the bay of islands shortly after leaving Pukenothing (Pukenui). We did a brief stopover in Matai bay which was unbelievable, check it out on the net, or google earth. There's two little bays right beside each other with a cliffy peninsula in between. It's like a big inverted pair of boobies where the cleavage is the peninsula and the bays are the boobies. He he Boobies. Yeah! We left Matai after 2 nights and we were off to Kerikeri. We had lined up jobs pruning some sort of plant called Feijoa or some such Maori nonsense. I planned to stomp on each shrub and demand payment between every shrub. Such was my disillusionment with orchard work. Almost immediately though, upon arrival in Kerikeri, the manager of our first campground (The Hideaway Lodge, 4 outta 5) had us better jobs, me doing construction, and Celina pruning Kiwi's. What joy! Our stay in kerikeri quickly degenerated into a sedentary and relaxed life. I built our campsite into a long term accommodation, including a small deck and even planted flowers. They died post-haste. My construction job was good. Once I got over the whole "YOUR A BACKPACKER YOU MUST BE A MORON" attitude i settled down into a monotony of simplistic irresponsibility. Oil the wood, wipe the wood off. Sand the wood too. Make it pretty. Carpenteria. Gulf of Carpenteria...beautiful place our pearl boat in Aussie almost went...even writing about my construction work my mind wanders. The saving grace of this job was the view. A long slowly widening valley dropping off into a wavy ocean. The greens were greener than an envious amateur leprechaun. Easily the greatest side effect of this job turned out to be the home it led us to. A man I worked with named Ben, one day told me he may have a flat to rent us. I was interested but his description of the place left a bit to be desired. A week later we came to check it out and I literally couldn't stop grinning. For 10 dollars more a week we could move out of our tent and public kitchen existence and move into a great little studio apartment with a great deck, seclusion, a garden and ferns everywhere. The Jungle Bungalow. Jungalow. It was an utter joy to move in to. Grapes growing on the deck, a newly ripening fig tree and numerous fresh herbs to cook with. Bay leaves, basil, parsley oregano etc etc. We had found a slice of paradise. Rock On Paradise. Rock On. It took us a while to get used to the fact that this place ran on solar power, (filthy hippys) so most of the time we had to really pay attention to our usage, rainy days and some nights the generator had to be fired up. The fridge and water heater ran on propane. Also the tiny little two burner stove/oven. By this point we had gotten into hardcore work all the time mode. Which was good, the weather was rainy, and even if we wanted to do something other than work we hadn't the money...so work it was. Celina kicked ass with the kiwi growing business and I continued on with construction and working on the homeowners farm, mostly wandering around in a gorgeous valley chopping down feral plants. You see this farm was ORGANIC (oo la la) as opposed to those filthy robotic farms where plants are steel and silicon monstrosities. Inorganic Demon Plants From Cybertron, or at least this is how I interpret 'Organich Produce'. And so sprays can't be used. He figures he'll have the place free of non-native plants within 10 years...I figure he's half stupid and half too rich to think straight. Most of the plants I'd cut down come back stronger afterwards...including thistle.

Anyway.

Between bouts of work we'd try find time to fish and spearfish...one day we met up with the neighbour kid who is only about 14. His name is Silvan and he grew up on an 80 foot boat his dad built to sail around the world. He had access to his dad's boat. Not the big one but a much smaller zodiac pontoon boat sorta thing. I liked this idea. We soon organized a trip out to a famous fishing area called Nine Pin. A small but impressive island off the coast of the Kerikeri Inlet with apparently 8 other submerged structures around it. We began by dropping the boat into the water at Opito Bay. After cramming a disturbing amount of gear into the boat we were soon zipping across the ocean under a nice hot sun. Our first spot we wanted to try has a name I cant remember. Doesnt matter. Probably a hippy name. But basically it's a large submerged structure and at low tide the top of the structure is around 15 meters down. After trying for about 10 min to get the boat directly onto the GPS point I had plotted at home we dropped anchor and Silvan (the neighbour guy) jumped over the edge to check the depth. While he dove I gave my jewels some sun and changed into my wetsuit. Just as he climbed back into the boat i noticed something in the water a few meters away. "That's a big shark you were swimming with Silvan." I said casually. "Oh, shit, yeah there is a shark...oh man." He said trying to be casual. The shark was cruising around on the surface apparently interested in what we were doing. We decided that the first dive of the day probably shouldn't be with a 7 foot shark. Off to another GPS point!

Our second location was terribly murky. Spooky murky. Like, can't see the end of my speargun 35 feet under the water murky. We cruised for a bit here and got warmed up diving into the 10 to 15 meter water for around 15 min while Celina got suited up in the boat. By the time she was ready to get in we had had enough and decided to pull anchor and move on. The anchor was wedged so Silvan dove down and loosed it and we were off. At our next location we finally hit pay dirt, after diving along numerous ledges looking for crayfish we started spotting fish. At one point Silvan was on the bottom about 5 meters below me and I spotted a large Red Moki. Not the smartest fish in the world, but hey, I wanted to get my spear bloody. I quietly dove. The trick to this is letting the water enter your snorkel through the mouth piece, hence no bubbles...and then tuck yourself into a ball and thrust your legs into the air, this way your leg weight (and weight belt) push you down. Less movement, less noise. I was soon upside down in an inverted dive and about ten degrees off vertical when I shot the fish. He was swimming across my line of sight at the limit of my gun's range when I put a 2 meter shaft of spring steel into his brain. Twock. His mouth dropped open and his tail twitched once. Where you goin fishy? WHERE YOU GOIN?? Nowhere. I hadn't noticed but in my bloodlust fuelled (and rather triumphant) slaughter of this great beast I had swam right infront of Silvan and cut him off from shooting another fish. He eventually got it but I had a quick reminder to stay out from in front of other spearguns. Hard to hold your breath with holes in your lungs. Turns out Red Moki are not exactly the sportiest of sportfish, and most people leave them because they are so dumb but hey, I had to cut my teeth on something in New Zealand. We soon were back in the boat zipping along to the Nine Pin. A massive steep walled island makes up the center of the formation. We pulled up fairly close but the swell was smashing across a reef creating huge waves at one end. During some wave sets there were easily 4 meter waves coming off that break. Although it was a pretty scary place to park we dropped anchor about 50 meters from the really huge break area...I was nervous because if our anchor came loose and the boat wouldn't start we'd have surely been screwed. I was first in the water and soon realized we had found one of the 'Pins' at 10 meters was the top of a structure with steep cliffs around it dropping off to far deeper than I can dive. There were fish everywhere, Blue Moamoa, tiny snapper, baitfish in huuuge schools and even a few Leatherjackets. I quickly spotted some mussels growing on top of the structure and was blown away by their size, easily 6 or 7 inches long and half that wide. I started yanking them off the rocks but kept running out of air by the time I'd grabbed one or two. They really hold on by the time they get that big. Silvan told me the big ones aren't good to eat so I stopped with that and got back to spearfishing. He was wrong, but the spearing soon got good so whatever. To try increase the number of fish in the area I shot a couple small Parore and started bleeding them and chopping them up into the water. This also attracts sharks but hey, we hadn't seen one in almost an hour and we're hardcore. Or stupid, or something. This worked great and soon a large school of Kahawai was zipping around us like silver bullets. Almost all of them were over 50 cm and a couple were right at the maximum size Kahawai get to (around 80 cm). I hadn't noticed any of them on my way down but as soon as I hit bottom and turned around to look up I could see them everywhere. I looked for the biggest one I could see and started slowly floating up into the school. He must have gotten spooked by me tracking him with the gun and shot off into the murk. Instantly a similarly sized one slid across my guns 'sights' and I shot. He went berserk. I couldn't believe how that fish fought, he was big for a kahawai but not really that big of a fish. After slowly dragging him in and slogging him up into the boat I was ready for a rest. Silvan was too excited (and having a freezer he was able to handle more fish) so he was back in the water instantly and quickly pegged two great Kahawai. We kept hoping for a school of massive kingfish to show up but had no luck in that department, and while a lot of people don't consider Kahawai a great table fish they obviously didn't grow up eating jackfish out of a swamp in northern Alberta. Our day soon came to a close, with around 9 fish dead or dying all told. Dominated. We cruised back into Opito bay under a bright red sunset and were off through the hills. Towing the boat through said hills was the first time we noticed our clutch was going. Yay 1100 dollars down the drain! Ah well, the day was amazing. So is New Zealand.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1206664140/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1206664140/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1206664140/tpod.html Thu, 27 Mar 2008 22:55:47 -0400 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Pukenui, New Zealand

Kia Ora,

Auckland, Auckland, Auckland...why have you forsaken me? Is it my arrogant swagger? My impressive head size? My girlfriend? I thought we had something...

Whilst sitting comfortably in the computer room of the delightful Fat Camel Hostel in Auckland my lovely girlfriend Celina suddenly came to the conclusion that if we didn't have jobs within twelve seconds we would offically be a third world couple. My first though was that poligamy was common in many third world countries. Then my mind raced for the name of the old school malaria medicine I had read about in some James Clavell book... Malaria is rampant in those countries I think! Is it quoonin? Queen in? Queen out? Quinine! Thats it.

I leaped to my feet and asked the guy at the hostel's tourism counter if he could find me a reliable source of quinine within, oh shit, 7 seconds. And, by the way, it's mosquitos that spread malaria right? I tried to act uninterested so he wouldn't jack the price. He stared at me for five seconds and by this point a mindless animal terror of mosquitos had set in. Two seconds later I had given up hope and pulled a jacket over my head as a makeshift mosquito net.

Celina continued to surf the net while I chewed on a half burnt citronella candle I'd found in the garbage. All praise to Jebus, before some terrible blood sucking bastard had left me with a case of Dengue Fever she had us jobs...just like that. Shitty jobs, but jobs. Bono wishes he could save third worlds like Cel. Pompous Potatoe Headed Irish bastard. Bono, not Cel.

The next morning we were off like a bullet to some unknown place called Pukenui in the far north of New Zealand to work in a mandarin orchard. 4 or 5 hours away across hostile territory and unknown distances between beer stores. We felt it neccessary to hire a local guide but the best we could find was our Brazilian roommate Renato (pronounced hhhairnnatto sorta). You just wanted to yell his name like someone had scored a soccer goal every time you saw him. Which I did. He'd been in New Zealand almost as long as us (5 days) so we felt he could fit the bill. Tall, skinny, brown and with the biggest dreadlocks I'd ever seen Renato is, as they say, quite a character. Or at least Bob Marley wannabe.

We had recently picked up our new vehicle and the Safari sat outside the hostel sparkling like a red old jem. Waiting. Waiting for ol slow-poke Renato to sort all his crap out so we could hit the road. Traffic was brutal, I had no patience. People were being run down just for the sport of it as vehicles took to the sidewalks to save time. Then like a sunburst through a bank of clouds we emerged from the megalopolis of Auckland into some of the most stunning countryside I had ever seen, green rolling hills, big rocky cliffs, ferns mized with pines and cedars and of course the ocean, green islands and more hills...I hope this thing has a good clutch...

The entire shotgun trip to Pukenui I was staring out of the window barely watching the road, gawking at the tremendous scenery. Windy roads and a lot of ups and downs required all of my concentration to keep this beast safely between the lines. As long as nothing goes wrong I can gawk and drive. Luckily my face was close the driver side window when it randomly fell off its rails and tried to plunge inside the door.

"WHAT THE HELL?? STOP STOP STOP!!!" I yelled trying to catch the window with the hand furthest away from it for some reason, thereby tieing my arms in knots.

"Your driving Jordan! You stop!" Celina said amid a flurry of un-lady-like curses.

"No I'm not! I'm trying to fix the oh shit oh shit..."

Renato laughed and said something unintelligibly Portuguese.

By this point I had swerved out of oncoming traffic onto the shoulder scarcely missing a large wodden post and screeched the truck to a stop on an approach sideways and facing into the far ditch. Still clutching the window with my left hand I opened the door and removed the bastard window from the door before it could fall and smash inside the door. Phew...no break.

Luckily New Zealand is warm and our new vehicle with no driver window was comfy for the rest of the amazing drive. We arrived at our destination "The Pukenui Holiday Park" at about 11pm, which was a bit late as we were supposed to start work the next morning at 6 or some un-godly hour. Right outside the entrance to the camp was a sign proclaiming it a "Friendly" holiday park. Shining praise and excellent advertising! What a relief I marveled, no more pulling in to pay someone for a campsite and having them insult my intelligence, spit in my hair and tell me to fuck off.
"We won't have any of that insulting and spitting trash here Celina." I smiled at her. "Says right here, these folks are friendly."

We met the 'woman' who ran the camp, Jo, and she quickly showed us the cabin we would stay in and told us where to work in the morning and then dissapeared. Nice cabin, ok facilities..we have jobs...the kitchens gross, but so am I...what could go wrong?
The next morning we started our jobs and every day afterwards was the same for a while. Thin the Mandarin trees. Theres too many oranges! Thin them hippies! A pretty shit job and without my Ipod I woulda gone bonkers batshit mad. But we were surviving, going nowhere, but staying there and like so many orchard jobs the promise of better pay is always around the corner...so thin them we did. I won't go more into the details of a mandarin orchard.

One day we found a dead penguin on the beach. Now I new for sure...Batman was following me. But I digress...

It turns out "Jo" if that is her real name, the campground owner, is a scuzzy whore from the deepest reaches of hell. Sent forth by Satan himself to torture and take advantage of poor unwitting travelers. And the job payed less than squatting in a ditch poking berries up your nose. (Which, after a recent strike has seen an almost 50 percent increase in salaries and impressivley improved benefits. You can even write off your berries now! Except blueberries, of course.)

Don't get me wrong, the camp was fine, the kitchens were filthy and the people a bit boring, but hey, we're teetering on 3rd world-ness...beggars cant be choosers. After surviving on litterally 5 dollars a day for a few days we thought screw this, we can keep working at the orchard and just go camp somewhere free and save heaps of cash. Soon we had moved out and were camping beside a nice little lake. Workin in the morning hangin out at night, boring but theoretically productive. Then Jo found out.

Next day our supervisor explained to us (not in these exact words but, you know...) that since we werent paying that dirty rotten pig on the hill to stay in her camp, shes gotten us fired. I was a bit confused. I quickly went to talk to her and was confronted by her and her fat stupid husband and a torrent of the most non-sensical bullshite I had ever heard. The arguement culminated in me explaining that "thanks for this, we're broke, and have no food, and we drove here from auckland and your getting us fired because we arent staying in your camp." Pigwhore/Jo quickly replied with "get off my land, or you can stay here and get your job back, thats how it is mate. It was a misunderstanding" Her husband repeated the sentiment. Only fatter.

"I'll never give you one goddamn more dollar for fuck sake you've screwed us, it was no misunderstanding...generally misunderstandings, when identified, become understandings, at which point the offending party, you, realize their mistake and make repricussions...such as getting us our fucking jobs back."

"Get off my land"

"Eat shit and die demon spawn."

"That's how it is mate, we're the mutherfuckin Friendly campground!"

So! We're off to Kerikeri and the beautiful Bay of Islands! Not that the far north was all bad, I wanna go back some time and camp up near Cape Reinga, northernmost point of NZ, and getting free clams off ninety mile beach was cool. I also recommend Hohoura heads as a quick stop off, nice campground...but something in the way Jo spoke to us gave me an unwelcome feeling, we just didnt like the vibe. Onward ho, wagons south, lets make like bananas and get the hell out of here...etc.

PS every person i meet who has read this and stays at the Pukenui Holiday Park will be slapped by me and the lovely Celina. In the face, in perpetuity.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1200019440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1200019440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1200019440/tpod.html Sun, 13 Jan 2008 22:23:41 -0500 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Auckland, New Zealand

Anyone caring to go to Australia, I highly recommend it. I've subdued the locals, drank all their beer and renamed their streets. Its safe there now, just don't mention me by name. You don't want a stranger to wet themselves, its embarrasing and gross, especially if your hand is in their pants. Also on my list of gross things is the spider that bit my wang. Digging a trench and suddenly I realize, perched upon my pecker, pincers protruding, was a nice big red spider stabbing away like a wee little Loraine Bobbit. The spider was obviously a card carrying bull dike bent on removing man meat from the earth. Stupid spider, you forgot to be poisonous. I forgot not to panic. Try explaining to two strangers who are helping you dig a trench why your furisouly slapping at your crotch and then constantly checking in your pants for signs of swelling. Hey buddy, does this look swollen? Don't look at me like that asshole, I may be dieing! Maybe he thought my balls had just dropped and I was getting my first erection.
We FINALLY left the quaint and freakishly hot town of Broome after an excellent bout of fishing and enjoying life at a wonderful couple named Steve and Justine's house. They are my hero's. I worked a day on a charter boat and after contracting syphalis of the ear (horribly painful, and leaky) I seemed to have lost my immunity to seasickness, cause I Puked a lot. A lot lot. Celina worked as a maid at some resort and I dug a trench and raked some leaves. As you can imagine it was a fairly uneventful month but the millions of bats I saw over the bay one night (3 to 4 feet wide fruit bats and literally a million) and the fishing made it very worth it. Also the 1300 profit we made selling our Pajero. Anyway after that and some Barramundi fishing in steves boat we decided we'd catch the plane we payed for and go to Perth. Mostly because we had payed for another flight to New Zealand from Perth. The wonderful Paxman family (world famous spearsfishermen) took us in but because of my ear infection we couldnt go spearfishing...that made me sad in a 'punch a kitten in the stomach' kind of way. Perth was uneventuful, had some down time and said goodbye to Perth's great beaches. Goodbye Aus, I'll be back, and mad as hell...for some reason.

Our flight to New Zealand went well, I didn't sleep much as I was too excited drawing up battle plans for the invasion and drinking free beers. As our plane touched down I gathered up my gear and stepped off the plane.
The island shuddered.
Ancient Maori spirits wailed and fled from my advance up the pedway with an arrogant swagger and fire in my eyes. Not literally fire but, you know, intensity. I steeled myself as I stepped into the airport, a family of small asians threw themselves from the railing out of pure shock. The security gaurds wet their pants and threw there guns in the fountain, luckily only one had a strangers hand in his pants. Gross. My syphalitic ear throbbed as the song Hydra's Teeth screamed into it from my Ipod. Pain! Sorrow! Agony! Defeat! The locals trembled and shook. I farted and a large German woman in a moo-moo burst into flame.
"KIA ORA! SAY HAERA RA TO YOUR MANA!" I screamed. It might mean 'say goodbye to your authority' in Maori but may have been a recipe for buntcake.
Then, I got a sandwich. Oh, and the lovely Celina was there too.
She's nice.

Aucklands nice, 25 degrees sunny and friendly, beautiful trees and old buildings. We booked into the Fat Camel hostel, also nice but they have too much beer. All see what I can do about that. Tui is great beer, fuel. We also bought a new vehicle, a 1988 Nissan Safari, sorta like a landcruiser without the britishness. Speaking of which I should pick that up soon.

Hei Konei Ra

For what little it means this travel diary is dedicated to Eric Lahoda, rest in peace good friend, the rockin the gnar gnar won't be the same without you.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1197340740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1197340740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1197340740/tpod.html Tue, 11 Dec 2007 00:07:56 -0500 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Broome, Australia

Dear Paula (my travel agent), I was wondering if there was anything I had to take care of or any last minute details to iron out beofre flying to the other side of the planet tommorow.

Dear Jordan, You don't have a travel visa, I don't think you can get one, your screwed.

Dear Paula, Oh neat, let me tell Celina so she can take me to the hospital for this heart attack.

Dear Jordan, if you do this, this, this and this and all these random strangers strung out through the Aussie high commision and some other government agencies manage to do their job and aren't hungover or in a lazy mood today you might get a visa by the time your leaving Los Angeles. If you don't get one your screwed. They won't let you into Australia. Sucker.

Dear Paula, OK, I think I'm gonna cry from pure stress but thats fine. In fact, thats goddamn sexy. I thrive on complete terror. Weird, for some reason I thought this was dealt with weeks ago. I'm such an asshole, making assumptions.

I love not knowing if I'll be let into the country I'm flying around the world to go to. It makes it so excited wondering if a customs agent is gonna fly up into my face like some bastard jack-in-the-box with some piece of paper that says " So Solly Cholly you must stay in Singapore sucker, if they let you".
At this point I hoped for the best and Celina and I began wading throught the quagmire of barely sentient beings they staff airports with. True dullards of the lowest calibre with twitching faces and ego's sized to match their office ass. I really needed the extra hassle they seem to always make inevitable. I ended up finding out I had a visa when I was 20 min from leaving Vancouver. Having even got to Vancouver seemed a bit of a miracle after the completely clueless woman at the terminal in Calgary told me she didn't think I could get on the plane because of my lack of an Aussie Visa...I tried to explain to her my situation but she couldn't hear me over her face twitching and finally waved me onto my flight with a confused and slightly angry look on her face. Why my Ausralian visa situation had anyhting to do with a domestic flight in Canada will haunt me forever. How much do they know? When will they come for me? Will I have clean underwear on?

Everything went pretty smoothly after this. Except for the impressively slow witted woman who wouldn't put my spear gun on the baggage conveyor because it was !A Gun!. I spent about 20 min explaing to her how not dangerous a speargun in a PVC pipe is when its in the belly of a plane.
She says,
"But sir it's a Gun. 9/11"

"No, it isn't, it's for fishing."

"But it has a Handle and Trigger, so it's a Gun 9/11, 9/11"

"Well self cleaning ice cream scoops have handle's and triggers but they're not terribly threatening, are they now. There hasn't been an ice cream terror attack for years."

"9/11 sir 9/11"

"Yes I suppose thats true, good point. Here's a cookie."

"Ok sir, 9/11, I phoned someone with concious thought, they said its safe, 9/11."

"Excellent, I feel so dangerous."

Then things got going smoothly. Literally, I had the worst case of drop-ass of my life and while Singapore Airlines has some truly good food it didnt help. All Praise Be to Pepto Bismol. The actual airlines were running smoothly though, which means we werent dealing with Air Canada anymore. Easily the worst airline in the world. Assholes. Of course they lost my bag. I know it's hard to read those huge freaking letters on the baggage tag but Effrum the Baggage Humper Monkey managed to get my bag onto another flight so it only took 20 hours longer than me to get to Perth. I had a great sleep on the bench in the terminal though. Only half the people there stunk as bad as Ol' Traveling Me. By this time we had been traveling for about 60 hours straight. I hate connecting flights. One thing I learned that was interesting was that the woman at the counter doing customer service controls traffic all over the city. An asian man that missed his flight because of bad traffic was screaming at her so I assume it was her fault. Asians are so meticulate, laying the blame right where it belongs.
Our flight to Broome was set to leave at 5 pm...almost there.

We stepped off the plane at about 8 at night and the temperature was 26 degrees and 90 percent humidity. We'd Been traveling for over 70 hours by this point and freakin stunk. I stunk like sex with animals. Giraffes, Hippo's, Brandon WC, whatever. Stunk.

Oh shit, I'm not built for this.

We ran over to see if our car had been stolen in its 3 months at the airport, it hadn't but someone had broken in and taken our fishing gear. Whoever did that, "Fuck You", pardon my french. The battery was dead and we later found out that the alternator had to be replaced as well. Also it had to be inspected and registered....the list of shit went on and on and our first week here was solid shit dealing with the truck and trying not to get hosed by mechanics and flithy rat bastards beaurocrats. It was strange how everything that could have cost easily over a thousand and a half dollars worked out being fixed for under 400, plus I found 200 dollars on the road right before I found out I had to pay 200 dollars for some truck stuff. Karma man, Karma. So later while driving down the road to see about getting the alternator fixed my stupid jerk mouth opens and says 'even all these weird coincidences that seem to be minimalizing our troubles don't make me believe in Karma'. Instantly as I finished that sentence the truck stopped working. I punched my self in the mouth and started pushing. Cheers to Broome Mechanics. They are helpful and tried hard not to screw us, it was amazing. Especailly after having been to Coral Bay where everyone is an asshole or a liar or both. 150 bucks for a battery my ass.

So here we are in the hottest place ever, we've already seen giant turtles nesting, joined a volunteer group to track them and their nests (i'm just lookin for cheap delicously endangered meat) and we saw a dead dolphin too. Take that Hippies. Oh also I sold our 4x4 today for 1300 more than what we payed...haha who's a sucker now! I might cry when they drive my lovely Pajero away from me, but at least I'll have a good excuse to rent a scooter then. All praise to the Pajero. Long live the Pajero. May you live forever on beaches and sand tracks of my heart.

I really liked that truck.

Hopefully we get something as good in New Zealand.
Next Stop Christchurch NZ.
Oh yeah and fuck you again fishing gear thieves. May your eyes be pecked out by the dandies that worked at Mountain Equipment Co-Op. And I think you know how they do their pecking.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1196301180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1196301180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1196301180/tpod.html Mon, 10 Dec 2007 21:37:54 -0500 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Well Canada is nice. Not sure if anyone else noticed but it's really rather nice. It smells a lot better than Australia that's for sure. Especially the rediculous 'Road of Death' up the west coast of Aus where there was a dead something almost every 200 yards. That road stunk like unhholy diapers from the ass of a clown who's been performing all day with a little brown rabbit tail rattling around in his shorts. As they say.

Our time in Canada was spent trying to work and trying to kill large mammals. We managed to do some renovations including Mountain Equipment Co-Op which was a good job. Strange though how every man working there managed to mince and prance about while cranking the heat so high that picking up a wrench was enough to make me get a sweat rash.

Scenario: Jerrod and I are sitting on the floor slowly putting a kicker on a column with sweat running into our eyes. Fruitcup McGee walks up and says "Hi there boys". Jerrod twists his face into a rictus of anger and says,
"What in the sweet french fried fuck is wrong with the heat in here?"
Slippery Steven (formerly known as Fruitcup McGee) replies,
"Yeah I know right? I'm soooo chilly oh my gawd!" He then pirouetted, flicked his bangs out of his eyes, clicked his ruby slippers and dissappeared in a poof of Chanel #5. Poof. I threw a large caulking gun at him but he was already gone. I'm sure he would have liked it though. He seemed like he had some caulk experience.

Every chance we had my brother and I were off to the hills of Kananaskis to try peg that big brown bastard out there. Biggest black bear Jerrod ever did see. We also saw the biggest moose I'd ever seen or even considered. Turns out we aren't allowed to hunt out there. Coulda fooled me cause we hunted the shit outta that place. Good thing we didn't kill anything.

Certainly the highlight of the trip home was guiding some excellent Irish guys with our friend Bruce 'Old School' Devlin. He decided to call in the Gorilla Cav when he realized it would be hard for him to guide 3 guys in a territory he hadn't really been too. Bruce is a machine but hell even I would have a little bit of trouble doing that. And I'm some sort of awesome. We chased the hell out of elk all over that goddamn valley and ended up shooting the stupidest moose I've ever seen or even considered. Plus it was nice hunting in the territory we used to guide without Dave "Assclown Walks Like His Body is Following His Big Stupid Mustache Around" Schneider there to screw things up. He was our boss and can't tell his asshole from his elbow. So thanks to The Fightin Irish, Bruce, Tyler, Dad (the Don) and Jayrod for an amazing time.

Greg-Gor Sekulic, Jerrod, Mason, and I also had a bit of a try at hunting back home, turns out either we suck or the last winter killed everything before we could. It's a travesty when animals don't get to die as God intended. On the recieving end of a high velocity ballistic projectile fired from a grassy knol amidst the stink of fake deer piss, malt, hops and whatever else goes into making the nectar of the gods. Which reminds me beer in Canada kicks Aussie beers ass. Period.
Jerrod did get a whitetail deer but I think it might have been gay. I'm not sure if it was a fop or a dandy but it was giving the barrel of his gun a weird 'come hither yon phallic symbol' look and Jay-Rod-a-Saurus had a finger spasm of homophobia which successfully removed that pe-deer-ast from the scene. I just know we coulda called that deer in with show tunes instead of a doe-in-heat grunt. Anyway short story shorter Jerrod has a big gay piece of boney meat hanging in his car port. Creepy.

Luckily before heading back over to the Land of Aus I got to have a good visit with a good number of my accomplices. Kyle The Mule returned to Canada amidst a flurry of shotgunned Lucky Lagers and a good amount of hollering at each other happily trying to shout down each others travel stories. I'm affraid the already not too friendly neighbours know all too well that drunkin Kyle and Jordan get a little yelly. Oh and if you wanna hear a crazy story about the neighbours phone Jerrod so he gets embarrased. Also, thanks to the Don for picking us up from the police station at 8 in the morning. Seeing Raegan, Jerrod, Jessie-Ohhh, Kyle, Dad, Marshall, Sarah, Celina and whoever I'm forgetting all in the same place was nice. We had fun.

I'm sure I forgot to write about something terribly important but whatever I'm off to the airport. Screw this cold shit. Australia and New Zealand need a good ass kicking and my trucks been in long term parking at the airport in Broome for 2 months longer than I planned. I hope theres someone living in it. That's easier to eplain than finding someone dead in it.

Also, thanks for everything while I was home Mom! And Jerrod thanks for the hospitality, hopefully you got my stink out of the spare room. Rawk Awn. See ya in New Zealand.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1192055040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1192055040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1192055040/tpod.html Wed, 10 Oct 2007 18:54:46 -0400 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Western Australia, Australia

Well, I suppose it must have been two, maybe even three weeks since I've written one of these...lets see...yep, October 10th...wait a minute...oh crap. Last thing I remember I was in a little town called Margaret River...then...someone arrived in a nearby city...Justin Sellin! OK now I'm getting flashes of memory...ouch my brain...Leaving Perth..bad traffic...Celina arrived! Yay! Uh oh she has no tan...the natives will notice GET TO THE BEACH!...flash...Leaving Perth, bad traffic...LOST MY MULE!!!! KYLE!!! MMMMMUUUUUULLLE!!!!!????
fLASH
Buy some dive gear for Cel......and beer....Geraldton...lots of lobsters...NEW TRUCK! 4X4 rocks...
...flash...
...more lobster...
...flash...
...heel's ruined from free diving flippers with no dive socks...Jerrod did the Diving..flash...small towns...camping on the beach traveling when we felt like it...Port Gregory...40-50 lb samson fish in tiger shark infested waters. Jerrod got a nice big queensland groper...
...flash...
...got too drunk on the way to shark bay and went up the wrong peninsula...suddenly awake in Denham...wait where the hell is denham??? Celina! Where are we? "Sorry guys! You got drunk and passed out and I went 250 km up the wrong peninsula...
...but I got more beer!"...
...flash...
...all is forgiven...
...flash...
...coral bay...spearfishing every day...locals are assfaces...randomly met a guy who is roommates with a guy we randomly met in perth...he took us out on a boat and I killed a shark with my speargun...saw a 13 foot shark...
...flash...
leaving town, find out fish we were killing shouldnt have been killed...thats off the record..flash...broome...driving along and wierd guy starts yelling JORDAN JORDAN from like 2 blocks away...french tom..we met him 3200 km ago...what the hell? how did he recognize us from 2 blocks away in a new vehicle???
...flash...
...4x4 trip up the peninsula towards cape levique...FLYS! FLYS!!!!!...not many fish...stickbugs! centipedes! snakes!...hangover! HEAT...
...flash...
...Jerrod leaves...Gorilla Cavalry torn asunder..Jordan sheds cancer curing tears..Celina laughs..she's such a little trooper.
...Flash...
other people from margaret river show up THE IRISH! YAY! Lots of fun...Mango Campground!
...Flash...
...trip up peninsula with tom the frenchman...Crocodile...Big ShaRK LOOK OUT TOM! Blue ring octopus! Half retarded hillbilly!
...LONG FLASH...
Pearl Boat? Traveled to Darwin,..bad memory of darwin...trapped in stairwell...in a hostel...oh crap naked...gotta pee...WHO STOLE MY GODDAMN PANTS WHILE I WAS PEEING??? saw the Kimberley on the way there, uninhabited beautiful area completely rediculous place to live but lots of pearl oysters...lots of sharks too, AND WHALES saw a 12 foot tiger shark from about 4 feet away...caught a tuna! yay!..
...flash...
...slave ship starting to suck...leaving broome?...Canada???? what the hell??
A few days ago I woke with a start and looked at Celina..I asked...

did we win?

Yes, Jordan, we won. But we have to go back....
to the Future!..I mean in the future.

Suddenly I was guiding some Irish guys on a hunt in BC...got a moose yay!

Apparently November is the future so after making some money we're gonna go back and sell our truck...then there is New Zealand to consider...they aren't bowing nearly as deep as they should. And from there...asia?
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1172119200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1172119200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1172119200/tpod.html Thu, 22 Feb 2007 00:54:17 -0500 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Margaret River, Australia

Wow, Havent written one of these in a while...sorry about that but it just seems like something so easy to put off...tommorow tommorow.

Anyway, since Jerrods arrival and the formation of the Gorilla Cavalry we have had many a mad adventure, sadly the internet cafe in our current town of residence (Margaret River aka Surfers Mecca) doesnt allow picture uploads...gar! A few hundred pictures waiting to be fired out into the ether and I can't seem to solve the problem. Oh well, all in wait.

Where to begin? First we were stranded in Rockingham at Leslies house for about a week as some handsome devil lost the keys to the car. Eventually Leslies grandma mailed us a spare ingnition key but we still cant lock the doors and we wire the trunk shut instead of latching it as it needs another key altogether. After leaving Perth and heading to Mandurah. Leslies cousin Chis came along and brought his awesome little boarding boat along for some wake boarding and crabbing. We soon decided that wake boarding while crabbing is the greatest thing ever, also beer. What you do is drop a crab pot into the water every few hundred yards with some fish or spleen in it for bait and then go for a wakebaord or kneeboard session out on the river or estuary. Then after someone has fallen a couple times we'd rip back to the traps and yank them out of the water for the front of the boat as fast as we could. Bammo, 7 nice Blue manna crabs! 20 dollars each in the grocery. I ended up breaking my hand though, that weekend. It was a terrible boating accident and my hand still really hurts. Lets just say we were boating and I accidently punched someone in the head. Someone with a hard head shaped like mine and the same mother as me. Like I said a terrible boating accident. Unavoidable, really.
We ended up having a few too many beer and then going back to our camp site along the river to eat our crabs when a drunken kiwi who had been living at that camp site for 4 years stumbles up and starts feeding us beer by the handfull. At this point we thought the possums in the trees were certainly lemurs. The old hobo-esque guy insisted they were possums but since he was drunk as hell and from new zealand and had had his jaw broken horribly most of what he said came out as grrrffffrenddllyyuuppp garrr numbleee thatusss beernooosumallitooop ha ha ha ha. So they were lemurs.

We managed to coax a few of them down close enough that they were chewing on our fingers and grabbing at our hands which was pretty cool. Maybe because we stunk like crab meat and beer. Maybe thats the secret. Maybe we've solved it. Minions!

From Mandurah we headed further south stopping in a few different towns along the way, including Bunbury, Bussleton and Yalingup. Strangely enough one of my best days on this tour was sitting on the deck of a beachside pub having a couple pints ad listening to music while reading my book. One of those zone out and meditate sort of hippy moments everyone has sometimes. Reboot.
We did a bit more crabbing with little success and also visited some amazing caves called Ngigli. They were fantastic and I'll be sure to post many pictures of them. The whole coast here is littered with caves, some of which have guided pay for tours and some you can just wander into on your own. A definite hideout for supplys if the natives ever decide to revolt.
On the way down, I'm not sure what town we were in but we got the car stuck in some sand. A local in a 4x4 said he'd pull us out but to get to the exit road he had to go around us and on both sides was a bit of a sandy slope. I told him to take a run at it and curve around us so that he could latch on and drag us out. He drove like a shmuck and slammed on the brakes just as his car was parralell with ours. His car slid down towards ours and next thing you know his tire is jammed against our quarter panel. Shmuck! As he pulled ahead he tore our bumper off and our tail light. Damn this car gets sexier every day...

From Yalingup we headed to Margaret River, one of the worlds premier wine regions and easily one of the most picturesque places I've ever been. Huge trees and beautiful vineyards stretching off into the distance. A good place for my summer hacienda and secondary invasion headquarters. We set up camp at a place called big valley which has showers and an outdoor kitchen at our disposal as well as proper toilets. We set up our tents and dug in for a long haul. We soon met a few of our neighbours, most being friendly aussies. Neil "the army dude" was soon a good friend and even took us too a shooting competition.
"Don't embarrass me" he said with his usual frowning stoic face.
Little did he know he had goddamn pirate ninja's on his hands.

The competition was pretty simple. From the sitting position you fired at a targets which would appear 5 times for 4 seconds at a time with 5 seconds in between to reload. This pattern was repeated once and then there was two 40 second exposures which had to be fired at 5 times. The targets were at 200 meters and the center bullseye was about 3 inches across I think. Neil went first and shot terrifically. He has a really nice .223 with a 6 power scope on it. Jerrod went next and seemed to do just as well and I went last and did pretty good but got cheated out of 5 seconds on my last 40 second exposure making me lose one shot completely. Oh well. Jerrod actually ended up winning the competition and Neil got second. I got around 4th because a true ninja never shows his full potential. Anyways I guess we didnt embarrass Neil. Some of the other guys in the competition congratulated us and offered for us to shoot their guns a bit. One guy had a rediculous Martini-Henry elephant gun that shot bullets you wuld expect to be putting in an artillery gun. The pause between shot and impact was epic. Also a .204 that was so accurate you could shoot bullseyes easily every time.

Neil also took us spearfishing and with the gidgie I shot 5 nice little black fish and jerrod shot a wopper 12 pounder with the speargun. That was a great day as we swam around 3 km and fed 6 foot stingrays some of the fish we caught. The bay we were at is called Hamelin Bay and It's lousy with stingrays, big black bastards with barbs the size of my forearm. They came right up to the beach where we could pet them and feed them fish heads and stuff. I even managed to go for a dive with one which was fantastic. It had its barb missing, probably from a boat prop or somethig and i swam alongside the ebast for a good ten minutes petting it and watchig it fly throught the water. Thats the best thing about stingrays, they dont seem to swim, but fly like some biological space ship. They are also super friendly and curious. Steve Irwin must have poke one in the eye to make it so pissed off. What an experience that was. I see great potential in my new stingray minions...they just need lasers or something.

For the past couple of weeks we've spent a lot of time at camp, which is at times boring and at times relaxing, searchig for jobs in town and checking out new beaches also takes up a fair amount of time. I landed at job at a great place called Settlers Tavern the other day and I start saturday. I'll be doin a mix of things from working in the kitchen to serving drinks to just being a glassy. Jerrod looks like he has a job running bobcat as well but his lack of a visa may be a problem, but we'll see. My mule is still looking for something, the eternal search I'm starting to refer to it in my head as. I figure he should just grape pick as some money is better than none but he doesnt seem to like that idea...oh well. Kay Sarah as they say. Maybe.

Another pretty interesting thing coming up is the aussie nationals of surfing right here in M-River...that oughta be a sight to behold...we wached some crazy bastards suring what looked to me like office buildings for waves...if I had gone out into the surf I would honetly have been dead in minutes...literally. My good friends Leo and Asaf returned from a quick trip home to Israel and hopefully they can show me the ropes soon as far as surfing is concerned. That should be a lot of fun.


ahhhhh.....sorry, such a long boring travelpod, too much to say in it and no pictures to show...frick. I guess I'll write these more often so as to prevent skipping stuff...or forgetting...as I remember stuff from the apst month I'll add to this entry as well or something.

Love to everyone, except you...yeah you in the back...you know who you are...no love for you. You smell.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1168823280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1168823280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1168823280/tpod.html Sun, 14 Jan 2007 20:44:50 -0500 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Perth, Australia

First of all I have to request that everyone stop referring to this as a blog...blogs are stupid and the word is stupid...call this a Domination Journal...or Devestation Diary...something cool like that.

The new beginning of the South Pacific Historical, Geological,
Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian
Adventure-ologist...tician and his Good Mule Kyle.

About a week ago now the fate of Australia was sealed in a doom shaped envelope.
While my good mule Kyle had been hired as a pack animal for some Irish travelers to go north to Exmouth I stayed at the hostel as per my fathers requests.
This is about how I remember the conversation.

Dad: "You have a package coming son, a few of us put our heads together...you'll like it."

Me: "Boy golly dad...is it a big screen TV?"

Dad: "I always regret raising such a stupid son, son."

Me: "Is it a rifle?"

Dad: "It's never the same color...wait maybe brown...uh I can't say anymore...I'm a terrible liar."

Me: "OK Dad, on a scale of 1 to 10 how much will I like it?"

Dad: "10...no wait 9, um maybe 6 I dunno. It's awesome. Uh might be handy for...um hunting."

Me: "Is it a big screen TV? Thats every backpackers dream ya know Dad, a 36 inch plasma screen that I can attach to my forehead and all my friends will admire how THIN it is."

Dad: "Um..."

Me: "Ok Dad I'll wait and find out in the morning when its supposed to get here"

Dad: "Ok, I'll talk to you later"

Me: "OK, bye"

Dad: "OK"

Me: "Alright take care"

Dad: "OK, OK"

Me: "uh ok see ya"

Dad: "OK"

Me:"OK"

Dad:"OK"

Me: "OK" *click*

When the morning arrived I got up at seven and awaited my new package...I assumed by this point it was either a speargun or a rifle or something like a tank for the domination of Australia. A girl that works at the hostel came up to me and said "hey Jordan we have a surprise for Hanna outside for her Birthday". Hanna and Her boyfriend Michael (sry spelling) traveled overland from Asia and somehow became friends with me so I went outside to see what was up.

As I walked out the front door Swedish Mike was standing there with a shit eating grin on his face and 3 or 4 others were standing around staring at me like I'd grown a nipple on my cheek. I took a sip of my water and instantly managed to suck it into my lungs as I noticed my parcel.

The Gorilla Cavalry had arrived.

There was my brother randomly standing in the entrance to my hostel on the wrong side of the planet. Having bought his plane ticket 2 days before he had obviously planned this out exceptionally.

I choked and ran up and tackled him and then had to sit down as I thought I might have a heart attack.

Since he's been here we've gone on some pretty good adventures. Yesterday we went water skiing and wake boarding. The two days before that we spent catching big honkin blue crabs in the estuary of Mandurah. This was a blast and we later learned where we were swimming is where the nice big sharks are. Hooray! I still have legs! We've also done some good snorkeling and saw a freaking huge stingray. It was very aggressive and as soon as it spotted us it got territorial and came right at us. Needless to day I disappeared in a puff of brown smoke. Basically I crapped my pants and swam.

The day the Gorilla Cavalry arrived was a dark day for the natives of this continent. If we dominate this place half as much as we did guiding in Panorama then hope is litterally lost for these poor people. Two Stanichs with a mule named Kyle will have no problem tearing this continent apart and rebuilding it in Canada's image...minus the French and Stink Hippies.

I have to go now and retrieve my Good Mule Kyle from the hostel before he eats the plants.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1167470460/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1167470460/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gunslinger22/australia-2006/1167470460/tpod.html Sat, 30 Dec 2006 04:32:12 -0500 South Pacific Historical, Geological, Anthropological and Otherwise Informational Survey by a Canadian Adventure-ologist...tician.

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Perth, Australia

I have only ten mintues to write this entry but i felt it was neccessary. I appologize for my lack of posted photographs but anyone who know how to use MSN Live MEssenger can view many pictures in my "Space".

Late next week I am going spearfishing with one of the best spearfisherman in the world. Between him and his sons they have won countless international competitions and hold or have held just as many records. He can dive to over 100 feet (without gear other than mask and fins and wetsuit) and then shoot a fish as big as 150 pounds then drag it to the surface, stab it in the head and throw it in the boat. To say the least I was rather impressed when i watched his videos of this. He happens to be one of the friendliest people I have ever met and he seems to be willing to take me under his wing and show me how to kill fish with a speargun.
I've come up with a new theory of evolution...well not new, just definetly true.
Fish evolved into bigger fish.
Bigger fish evolved into fish-dogs.
Fish dogs evolved into dog-dogs.
Dog-dogs evolved into goats.
Goats evolved into monkeys.
Monkeys evolved into creepy smart monkeys with three heads and lasers.
The creepy smart monkeys died out but then the original monkeys evolved into Americans.
Americans evolved into Canadians.
I've decided to take up spear fishing and return to the ocean.
The Fish-dog decendant is back and hes mad as hell.

So wish me luck in my spear fishing endeavour. I dont think we will be in rediculously deep water but who knows. The guy im with ahs killed a 13 foot tiger shark with his spear gun. I'm in good hands. Soon I will control the seas and all the coast of Australia will bow down to me. And my good mule Kyle.



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