Tane Mahuta - Lord of the Forest

Theme Song of the Day:

1. "Tree Live", by Ookalah Da Moc, live at Saint Rocke Hermossa Beach

What do you say to something that has been alive for 2,000 years?

Thank you.

At least, that’s what came out for me, a little any scurrying over his roots as he stood silently watching, as he has done through the span of modern history. His presence is felt in my soul, a deep, quiet, knowing consious that permeates the surrounding forest.

My travel companion, a bright-eyed 19 year-old German WWOOFer on a gap year before commencing his studies in biology, whispers “How can one not be moved?” 

I am glad that he too, is humbled by the simple ancient majesty rising before us.

According to Maori legend, Tane is the son of Ranginui, the sky father, and Papatuamuku, the earth mother. His birth tore the parents apart from their primal embrace, creating the rift in which came light, space, and air, allowing life to to flourish.

Tane Mahuta is the oldest known kauri tree, estimated have sprouted from its seed around the birth of Christ. His massive trunk stretches almost 14 meters in diameter, while he towers about 51 meters above the forest floor. Some 30 species of various other plants grow nestled within his branches, some of which are as thick as the younger trees growing all around in the forest.

He looks like a god with many arms, some reaching to the heavens while others hold the life growing within his embrace. There is a calm aura that radiates into the surrounding forest from within.

Lesser trunks abound throughout, still impressive in their size and age: this one probably 250 years old, that one perhaps 500… It boggles the mind to think that Waiopua Forest was once carpeted with these ancient trees from valley ridge to ocean shores. And there is a lingering sense of loss that permeates the forest here – the ancient beings that once stood tall and proud here have only recently been felled, relative to the ages housands of years that they lived in this wild corner of the world.

TREEHUGGER!

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Question of the Day:

• What would you have said to Tane Mahuta?
  

Snowboarding and the Art of Perseverance II: LYNCHMOB

Fall down seven times, get up eight.  

Enough said.

Me and my cousins on Coronet Peak, Queenstown:

QUEENSTOWN ROCKS!!

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In Search of the Great Aussie/Russian Monkeyman...

There is a local myth of an Apeman roaming the Noosa hinterlands.

I went in search of this mythical creature, and narrowly escaped with my life...

World Thong Throwing Championships!

Theme Song of the Day:

1. "King of the Mountain", by Midnight Oil

STAY TUNED FOR THE COMPLETE EPISODE...

On Sunday I was lucky enough to be included in the field of international competitors for the 30th Annual World Thong Throwing Championships as part of the King of the Mountain Race at Pomona in the Noosa Hinterlands.

The competition was fierce, with the former Junior Champion making an impressive return after a twenty-year absence.  The American Champ even flew 22 hours non-stop to be Pomona in time for the event, and late in the day controversy erupted as rumors of performance-ehancement usage led to random drug-testing...

My training and technique was clearly lacking, leading to an early elimination at the hands of an intimidating curly-haired-eight-year-old [you can catch a glimpse of him in the  trailer].  Luckily, my uncle was on hand to put on a good showing for the Lynches, beating out the eight-year-old's throw by a few inches.

Stay tuned for the complete webisode to be posted soon!

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Tasmania: Day 3 - "Guns Don't Kill People; People With Moustaches Kill People."

Theme [Road Trip] Songs For The Day:

1. "Ramble On", by Led Zeppelin
2. "Never Going Back Again", by Fleetwood Mac
3. "A.M. 180", by Grandaddy
   

ROADTRIPS ROCK!

Today's mission is to make the four hour drive up to Launceston in time to meet up with another traveling friend for lunch, then make the two-hour journey up through Devonport to Ulverstone, where we will find our way to the Bedford's property in the mountain bush in time for dinner.

The drive up through Tassie's Midland Highway takes us through the agricultural center of the state. The sky is filled with puffy, backlit clouds, the asphalt disappears quickly beneath the campervan, and the iPod is cranking out some great road tunes.

Trucks shake the van as they thunder past in the opposite lane,while the gently rolling hills and greenery stretch all the way to the mountains carpeted in dark green eucalyptus stretch on the horizon, punctuated every now and then with a craggy cliff face yawning skywards. These mountains beckon silently, persistently: "Come, explore us, hike us, wander us...there is much to discover."

AUTUMN IN LAUNCESTON

Launceston sneaks up on us at around 2pm, and the autumn sun is shining brightly. This town looks and feels very much like Hobart, with its short, squat buildings and no-nonsense vibe. Autumn is still very much in effect here, and the afternoon sunlight sets the orange and yellow leaves ablaze. I am always so impressed with Autumn, and the warm, brightly shifting hues that celebrate its arrival.

We make contact with Aisha, a friend of Jill's who has just completed a week's worth of WWOOFing on a horse ranch in the area we are headed towards. There is time to kill before she can meet up, so we find our way to the public library for some quick internet access to check email accounts after two whole days without internet access. I am amazed that I have survived 48 hours without updating my Facebook status... hanging out @ home for the last few weeks, I have been updating my FB status 20 or 30 times daily, cliffhanger updates and deep thoughts such as "eating toast" and "gone out for another coffee" and "why do we have toes anyways??"...

100 new emails later, I find myself being kicked off the computer by an annoyed librarian, so I head out to catch up with the girls who have gone ahead in search of lunch. Launceston is a wonderfully small city - more like a country town - you can almost see horse & carriages being driven around the wide streets here. I pass a group of Harley riders relaxing in front of a two-story brick government building with tudor windows that is right out of an old British colonial movie. I walk around a few city blocks with my mobile phone thrust infront of me, snapping pics every 10 steps or so, fascinated with the long shadows and dramatic lighting that the afternoon sun is casting.

Aisha is catching Jill up on her travel adventures since the last time they saw each other, and they are poring over highlighted maps in their guidebooks when I find the cafe they have been hiding in. We slow down to 5km/h and push her out of the back of the campervan to drop her off at her hostel and cheerfully wave goodbye in the rearview mirror on our way out of town; it is 4:30pm by the time we leave Launceston and strike out for Ulverstone.

The LET'S GO IN AUSTRALIA guidebook says that the best view of Devonport "is from the rearview mirror", but as we approach this town the sun is setting dramatically right in front of us. Nature's lightshow is expansive and brilliant and dramatic and calming all at the same time, and oooohs and ahhhhs bubble from my lips unconsciously as the spectacle unfolds.

SUNSET ON THE ROAD TO DEVONPORT

Problem is, the late departure from Launceston mens that we arrive into Ulverstone, another quaint coastal town [from what can be seen], well after dark. Now we are faced with the task of finding our host, who lives deep in the mountains on a self-sufficient compound that he has built to escape from society. What's more, he doesn't really want to be found. The directions to his place are somehwat cryptic:

"Not easy to find, its better to phone with a map in front of you. If your in Ulverstone head to Sprent, Castra, Nietta, Leven Canyon, go past Leven Canyon until the bitumin, continue for 4.8 Klm, we are on the right just past 6 or 7 letter boxes that will be on your left."

In hindsight, the directions actually make perfect sense... though not while winding through unfamiliar narrow roads in the darkness from Ulverstone. The road gets progressively narrower and more unsealed, and a couple of logging trucks barrel down past us, their bright lights looking like alien motherships in the complete absence of streetlights. The campervan shudders as the roar past and I pull nervously onto the shoulder to give them a wide berth.

We take a turn marked LEVYN CANYON and the road surface is no longer sealed - not quite blacktop, but not quite dirt road. A few turns in and I slow right down to about 40 km/h as the bouncing bottoms of some small furry creatures bound away from the headlights. Pairs of glowing eyes turn away and become bouncing tails disapperaing into the night. They look like plump, oversized rats on pogosticks, and for the longest time we are unable to catch a good look at them. We find out later that they are wallabies, very plentiful in this part of the world.

The road drops away on one side, and treetops can be made out at eye level - we are skirting the edge of a valley, or perhaps the sheer edge of a canoyon wall; we cannot tell in the darkness. After the two trucks, there are no other cars to be seen, and the houselights on either side of the road become fewer and further between, until eventually we are buzzing along in near-total darkness, with only a slim sliver of moon and the twenty meters or so of headlights lighting the way.

After an hour or so, we slow right down to make a sharp corner at the bottom of a switchback, and spot a lone house up a hill to the left. The sign says FIRE BRIGADE, and this touch of civilization gives us a surge of renewed confidence that we may be on the right track.

The night is teeming with wildlife, and as the bitumen (asphalt) ends, the campervan clatters on over corrugated dirt road and even more wallabies scatter out of headlight range. I swerve to avoid a large possum that looks like a cross between a large cat and a racoon, and is sitting adamantly in the middle of the road. A ghostly shape whispers through the air in front of us, and for a few moments we follow a tawny frogmouth hunting along the road on silent wings.

The road gets rougher and rougher, until it is clear that we are creeping along logging tracks now, massively wide tree trunks dimly visible through the thick underbrush caught in our headlights on either side of the road. We've gone 16 km past the end of the bitumen into the mountains, and I notice that the petrol tank gague is reading 1/4 full... time to turn around before we break an axle or run out of gas or get bogged or... HIT A WOMBAT..!

...a fat little ball of muscle and fur waddles calmly across the road directly in front of the van, and as I hit the brakes he doesn't skip a beat as he calmy walks under the front wheel well and off into the night. It is well known in Australia that if you hit a wombat, he is likely to do more damage to your vehicle than you are to it... this is an animal who evades his predators by burrowing into the ground and presenting his bum to his attacker, whose teeth are unable to penetrate the tough, bony hide there.

LOST IN THE BUSH

We continue back the way we came, deciding to ask directions from the last house we saw before the end of the bitumen, keeping our eyes peeled for those 6 or 7 mailboxes referred to in the directions. There are more possums and wallabies on the way back out, and some Tassie devils even lope along side the van for a few meters, do a couple of confused circles as we stop to get a closer look, then decide to explore the underbrush off the side of the road. As we near the end of the dirt road, a couple of very unhelpful cows look very bored when we stop and ask for directions and shrug us off without so much as a grunt or moo.

The Fire Brigade turns out to be an older white-haired couple who eye us suspiciously as I jump up and down to catch their attention. He sizes me up, this wild-haired, unwashed, brown-skinned traveler doing jumping jacks outside his window in the middle of the night in front a a rental campervan that reads HAVE A DEVIL OF A TIME on his driveway... he decides that yeah, he could take me... and comes outside into the cold to see what I want.

"Bedford is it?" he says, looking me straight in the eye. Then something like "Yeah, figures..." under his breath before he proceeds to give me directions on how to find the cluster of mailboxes at the side of the road that will tip us off to the entrance to the Bedford property.

5km after the end of the bitumen, we just make out the mailboxes at the edge of the headlights, and find tire tracks leading off into the woods to the right, so I gun the engine to get the van up the embankment. The "road" is rocky and the van slips and slides underneath us as we twist and turn and finally crest a hill. A cold, solitary light can be seen shining through the trees up ahead. The van slips down the slope and the headlights show us a junked car next to a horse shed, building materials scattered around the yard, and old Toyota 4wd parked backwards against the main house. The digital clock in the van blinks 10:07pm.

A moustached man in a beanie is moving around under the solitary compact flourescent lightbulb that lights the place, and as I kill the engine Jill says, "Good thing you didn't wear your moustache t-shirt today..." We jump out of the van bearing gifts, wine bottles in hand and are greeted by a happy, slobbering, leaping juvenille bulldog and the moustached man, who has a glass of wine in one hand.

I notice a severed wallaby head squinting up at us behind the two, and gulp as I reach out my hand to introduce myself: "We've brought wine!"

"Finally found the place didjya?" he says quietly. "Yeah well it's not easy is it....I'm Poida, nice to meet ya. Come on, let's have some wine and then I'll give ya a tour of the place!" he says, with a handshake as hard as rocks.

Above, the moon has set, and the Milky Way stretches out across the entire night sky, silhouetting the tall eucalyptus trees that close in all around us.

I smile and blow warmth into my hands: Welcome to Tassmania.

'NUFF SAID.

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a conversation with Dean Steele-Bennett of Melbourne Greendrinks

TEN MINUTES WITH
DEAN STEELE-BENNETT

When I first meet Dean Steele-Bennett, he is a blur of smiles, handshakes and laughs as he works his way across the crowded restaurant. He is sporting a very stylish Melbourne-black tie, and is surrounded by beautiful people.

I grab him as he walks past and ask, "If you were a new college graduate with an education and interest in sustainability, who in this room would you talk to about getting an awesome job in that field?"

He pauses, surveys the room quickly, and says, "I know just the person...". I introduce him quickly to Vanessa, whom I have just met at this Greendrinks event, and her jaw drops as she rushes to follow him through the crowd to meet his contact.

Dean is the organizer of Melbourne Sustainability Drinks, one of 3 events listed for Melbourne on the Greendrinks website. He is a volunteer "green collar mentor" to the Fellowship participants undertaking the sustainability leadership program at the Center for Sustainability Leadership, and actively volunteers with other community organizations as well.

"I want to help show people how they can have a fun, cheeky, rewarding, and planet-friendly lifestyle," says Dean. "Living a more sustainable lifestyle does not have to be extreme."

Dean is a co-founder of The Shaper Group, a group of companies that work with businesses, government, and non-profit organizations who want to embrace sustainabilty. Their focus is to help these organizations imrpove their competitive advantage and reputation by embracing more sustainable business practices.

Prior to co-founding The Shaper Group of companies, Dean held various management, consulting, and senior research roles for Russell Reynolds Associates, Korn/Ferry International (FutureStep), and KPMG Executive Search. In addition to successfully identifying CEO, C-Suite, and other executives for leading ASX300, Fortune 500, government and higher education clients internationally, he is passionate about making a positive difference in his community...and is just a very fun guy to hang around with!

For more information about the origins, benefits, and future direction of this event, watch the video interview posted above! Click here for the trailer...

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Links to resources mentioned in the interview:

1. Future Canvas
2. Sustainable Living Foundation
3. Sustainable Living Festival
4. Carbon Innovators Network
   

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Street Music

AUTUMN SUN ON MELBOURNE

Melbourne's streets thrum with music, art and life at all hours. It's one of the things I love about this city.

The other day, I walked with the crowd up the stairs from the train platform at Flinders St station, in the midst of a mystical musical landscape created by a busker sitting on his guitar amp caressing his strings. The guitar had a clean tone, and the sweetly haunting music cascaded down the steps and washed through the crowd.

As I neared the top of the steps, a voice like butter wove lyrics that were vaguely familiar....after a couple more steps the penny drops, and I marvel at his strangely sweet version of Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters". His music is like eating foie gras: it's oh-so-good, and it's oh-so fine... and you know there is a dark side to the pleasure you are indulging in the whole time.

I step onto the crosswalk and into the night, surreal now with his music fading into the background of moonlit city streetscapes.

It happened so quickly - the time it takes to walk up a flight of stairs, through the train station turnstyle, and to the sidewalk. I have the presence of mind to flip a $2 coin into his open guitar case, but not to stop and take a photo; though my guess is that would have diminished the surrealism of the experience. The moment, and the feelings he evoked in me, are etched into my memory banks of Melbourne.

Walking around the streets of Melbourne, this kind of experience can happen at any time, so rich is the tapestry of buskers... I have seen child prodigies on pianos, flautists, guitarists, quartets, preachers, acrobats, jugglers, beatboxers, comedians, and freaks... some talented, some you would pay to shut them up...

The other day I read an article in the newpaper about Rupert Guenther, a Melbourne street-busker who honed his unique style of improvising classical music on his violin for five years, eeking out a living by playing music for passers-by.

He attended a masterclass in February at the renowned Julliard School in New York being given by Dr David Dolan, a professor at Guildhall and the Menuhin School. Dr Dolan was so impressed with Rupert that he suggested he audition in the UK at Guildhall's Centre for Classical Improvisation and Creative Performance. Rupert took his advice, and is now on his way to becoming an internationally acclaimed artist and teacher, like many of his alumni at the prestigous school.

Sounds like a screenplay in the making... I just love the creativity that just oozes from the pores of this city!

NOT RUPERT GUENTHER

NOT RUPERT GUENTHER EITHER!


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Melbourne Greendrinks!

MELBOURNE GREENDRINKS!

Sustainability Drinks Melbourne is one of three similar events that is listed on the greendrinks.org website, and is held on the first Wednesday of every month at Tjanabi at Federation Square in the heart of Melbourne.

Organizer Dean Steele-Bennett started this event 18 months ago with 5 mates over a beer. They were lamenting the lack of a fun, informal, open forum for like-minded individuals concerned and involved with Sustainability issues to meet - as real people, instead of job titles or organizations - and collaborate on solutions...and thus was born Sustainability Drinks Melbourne! Six months later, a guest at their event told them the story of Greendrinks, and a new challenge was born.

Steele-Bennett selected Tjanabi as the venue for his event specifically because of their focus on "supporting practices that sustain the environment". The owner, Carolyn Briggs, is a Senior Elder and Spokesperson of the Boonerwrung people - the indigenous peoples of Melbourne. Tjanabi's menu features such traditional ingredients as kangaroo, emu, crocodile, wild boar and seafood. These foods are combined with some of the best quality regional and seasonal produce from the Gippsland region.

The event is marketed exclusively by word-of-mouth, and RSVPs are required, as Sustainability Drinks Melbourne regularly attracts 200+ people, and has to turn away 50-100 people each month due to the restaurant's capacity.

The organizers read about New York Greendrinks' record-largest GD event, with over 800 attendees, and began plans to set a new record for the largest Greendrinks' event in the world. This came to fruition on February 15th 2008, as part of Melbourne's annual Sustainable Living Festival. Sustainability Drinks collaborated with the organizers of EnviroDrinks and the O2Australia network, when a massive Greendrinks event was held in Federation Square with over 2,000 people in attendance!

This month's Guest Speaker was Marcus Godinho, founder of Fare Share, a non-profit organization whose goal this year is to deliver 1,000,000 free meals to the homeless and hungry population of Melbourne. Marcus was named to Melbourne's 100 most influential people by local newspaper The Age last year.

Fare Share turns good food that is otherwise destined for the dumpster into restaurant-quality meals for charitable organizations since the year 2000.

Over 1,500 volunteers are supported by only 5 paid staff, which includes two professional chefs. Local companies of all sizes utilize the volunteer program as a team building exercise, and do their part to contribute to their communities. The companies often realize additional benefits by reporting on their teams' participation in their annual Social Responsibility Reports.

We had a great night out with the organizing team and fellow attendees, continuing the conversation with new friends at a bar across the road at the conclusion of the event. A number of people walking up and introducing themselves to me throughout the night - everyone was warm, friendly, and interested in what the other had to say - there was an excited energy of innovation in the air, like we were all participating in something special. What a great environment for collaboration!

Later on, Daniel tells me that the typically diverse crowd that night included venture capitalists, documentary film-makers, governmental policy-makers, private consultants, students, job-seekers, entrepreneurs, and even an eco-friendly brewmaster. Stay tuned for an interview with the Organizer of Sustainability Drinks Melbourne, Dean Steele-Bennett!

For more information on how to support Fare Share, visit their website or contact Marcus at:
T: +61 3 9428 0044
M: +61 416 180 802
E: marcus.godinho@fareshare.net.au

For more information on Sustainability Drinks Melbourne, visit their website or contact Dean at:
T: +61 3 9614 6511
M: +61 424 507 446
E: dsb@executiveshaper.com

MORE PICS

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Malcolm's Magical Gardens

THEME SONGS FOR THE DAY:
1. "Home Among the Gum Trees", by John Williamson
2. "Sounds of Then", by Ganggajang
3. "DILLIGAF", by Kevin Bloody Wilson

ENTERING THE MAGICAL GARDENS

It's often the simple things in life that yield us the most satisfaction... I've spent the first weeks in Melbourne enjoying the crispy autumn air, sleeping in and relaxing in the magical garden that Mum & Dad have created over the last ten years. The southern sun has been breaking through the clouds at around 9 o'clock each morning, and I have been sneaking outside to enjoy the morning sunshine with a hot cup of tea, crumpets and toast, and a great book [currently "Shapes on the Wind", an autobiography by Kiwi explorer / adventurer David Lewis who, among other feats, sailed on the Hokulea and helped prove that early Polynesians were capable of navigating, and populating the Pacific].

Melbourne's weather, however, has been typically Melbourne.... beautiful one day, bloody hopeless the next...turning cold and blustery just in time to welcome my brother home to celebrate his 30th birthday.

"Sustainability" seems to be so much more ingrained into the psyche of your average Melbournian: Mum explains to me one morning as we search for a good latte how the city's dams are only at 27% capacity, putting everyone on water restrictions as a result. This seems to be common knowledge, with the data being talked about on the nightly news and in the daily newspapers. There is even a massive billboard outside a major train station with a digital update of Melbourne's water catchment system status - an awareness born out out of necessity.

PHOTO FROM FROM ARTICLE:
"DEATH TOLL RISES FROM BUSHFIRES"
BY MEX COOPER, LARISSA HAM FEB 8, 2009
THEAGE.COM.AU

Only 1 month ago, Melbourne was experiencing unseasonably warm days, in the 40s [100+ F] and with drought-like conditions...one of the factors contributing to the massive bushfires that the state suffered just a little while ago. Thousands of acres of farmland and bushland have been burnt to a crisp, entire townships were leveled and many lives were lost. The cleanup and recovery efforts will likely continue for years.

The recent cold rains, therefore, while not conducive to family reunion barbequeues, have been a welcome relief to locals. It is interesting to experience how this level of awareness seems to strengthen the bonds of community, a sense of "we're all in the same boat"; our survival depends upon each other.

There has been a behavioral shift, which has affected large-scale social change... on a level that makes it unacceptable for one to be a "Wally with water"; ie wasting water. To be seen by your neighbors watering your lawn on a restricted day would be akin to casting yourself as a social leper - it is a great working example of the Pooper Scooper Effect can be used to affect positive change in our community.

In Mum & Dad's neighborhood, watering of lawns is only allowed on Tuesdays and Saturdays. So, in order to keep the lawns green and the garden veggies growing, they have installed a rainwater catchment: two 500-gallon drums in the back garden catch rainwater from the shed roof, while two massive garbage bins collect water redirected from the house's roof in the front yard.

Mum tells me that people had taken to posting signs in their yards declaring: "RAINWATER SYSTEM IN EFFECT" so that suspicious neighbors envious of green grass growing next to their brown yards wouldn't report them to the City Council.

There is also a very high-tech greywater system that has been installed: more garbage bins collecting greywater from the laundry room. After each shower, we are to carry out the bucket which lives in the bathtub to collect even more greywater; these soft, soapy waters are used to wash the cars, water the lawns, and srub down the patio to keep it clear of all the lovely bird blessings which accumulate.

Curbside recycling, which was instituted well before I left Melbourne for Hawaii, is a given. We were wheeling city-issue bins filled with empty beer and wine bottles the mornings after our infamous Lynch BBQs as eighteen-year olds celebrating our newfound ability to drink alcohol legally - over 12 years ago!

Back in the garden, an olive tree is fruiting in the front yard, hibiscus and plimerias are blooming next to the herb and veggie garden, which features [of course] parsely, sage, rosemary and thyme... well ok there's no sage but it rolls off the tongue so much more nicely when you say it that way... the spinach, kale, and romaine lettuce, are doing well, as are the oranges, tomatoes [pro-nounced toe-mah-toes in Oz], and peppers in the backyard.

There are even a couple of possums living in the tarps which form the roof of the tent in our backyard BBQ area! On my first day back, Dad shows me a conspicuous bulge in the roofline underneath the tent and tells me to push up on it. The lump is warm, and squirms grudgingly when I lift gently to feel its weight:

THE POSSUMS IN OUR BACKYARD;
UNIMPRESSED WITH THE PAPARAZZI...

Aussies are obsessed about their yards and gardening - local celebrity Don Burke made his name with the iconic TV show Burke's Backyard [now a popular magazine and radio show, with weekly re-runs], which ran from 1987 - 2004, was one of the most beloved shows on Aussie television, and inspired many spin-offs [and take-offs (watch both videos!)].

STANDARD AUSSIE YARD EQUIPMENT (FROM L TO R):
1) COMPOST BIN. 2) BBQ. 3) RECYCLE BIN

How about "grow food...and lawns" instead of "grow food, not lawns"?

"Great Social Transformations - the end of slavery, the women's and civil rights movements... the birth of environmentalism - all began with public awareness and engagement" - Jeffery Sachs, author of "The End of Poverty"-

Perhaps sustainable living practices like planting our own gardens would be more readily and widely accepted if it were considered by the mainstream public to be less "extreme".

Now don't get me wrong, I agree that extreme and drastic action is necessary in order to effectively address climate change. Al Gore's Nobel-prize winning "Inconvenient Truth" was perhaps one of the greatest recent catalysts to raise massive awareness of the environmental crisis; there is little doubt that we are aware that change needs to occur...

However, awareness ≠ action. So many of us, myself included, are often left wondering "What can I do? What difference will one person make?" It can be so overwhelming...

Climate change is something that this community is experiencing first-hand - Melbourne's water catchment system is running well below capacity, the experience of the hottest summer on record is still raw, with the Black Saturday bushfires the worst in recorded history,

I wonder what other lessons we, living on our tiny island paradise, can learn from our continental-island neighbors across the Pacific? Do we need to experience our own version of Black Saturday before we can achieve widespread acceptance of such drastic - and simple - measures as watering our lawns and gardens only two days per week?

I hope not.

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melbourne by mobile - a photo/video tour

THEME SONGS FOR THE DAY:

Australia: by The Shins, from the album "Wincing The Night Away"
Nosebleed Section: by Hilltop Hoods, from the album "The Calling"


Note: for best effect, click on the image to enlarge... and enjoy!

OLDE IRISH SAYING:
"GUINNESS IS FOR STRENGTH"

ELIZABETH STREET TO FEDERATION SQUARE

INTRODUCING: AUSSIE HIP-HOP!



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momentary lapses of reason

The days grow shorter, each passing moment is increasingly hyper-real ...as if etching itself in my memory banks to take on the road with me....

EVEN A DRIVE ON THE FREEWAY
IS BEAUTIFUL IN HONOLULU...

Colors are more vibrant, soundscapes more symphonic, the smallest details jump out at me and scream "AREN'T YOU GONNA MISS ME?!?!?"

I ran into some people over the weekend that I had not seen in a while, and the first words out of their mouths were: "You're still here?"

They have a point really, I haven't really been here for the last month or so; my adventures have already started and I am evolving into a traveler...content to live day-to-day, out of my backpack, in search of daily adventure...

My body is still in Hawaii, but my mind, my heart, my soul ...is on the road already.

Old friends that I have not seen in almost a year are startled when they run into me again - I am happy, I am tanned, I am wild, and hippy, and free!

WILD. HIPPY. FREE.

I am catching myself in moments of bliss, thinking to myself, " I LOVE my life!!" How many people can truly say that they are doing exactly what they want to be doing with their life right this moment??

It may not look pretty, with utility bills going unpaid and foreclosure notices being delivered and strange, vapidly hopeful realtor / investor types knocking on my door offering a surefire solution to my housing woes... clucking their tongues with a reproachful shake of their head, then swooping in to "rescue" me...

...I am HAPPY. In the midst of all the financial turmoil and doom and gloom we are bombarded with every day, I am blessed ad fortunate enough to be listening to my soul, following my heart, and striking out on a completely illogicial, unfunded journey around the world to seek ADVENTURE, and opportunities to be of SERVICE...

I've been presented with so many ways to make lots of money in this market, and some of these ideas are going to work, and going to make some people a lot of money. AND, I have found that I am simply not interested in money right now.

WHAT LIES AHEAD, I WONDER??

I am fascinated with PEOPLE. HUMANITY. CONNECTION.

Relationships, old and new, have become newly minted, each moment shared standing out in stark contrast to the rush of the last 10 years spent chasing dollars, each moment precious with the knowledge that we may never see each other again....

...Or at least, not for a long time...

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how to sail on H-1 freeway

TRAFFIC IN THE BOATYARD

Q: How do you sail a ship from Ko'Olina deep water harbor to Honolulu Yacht Club on the H-1 Freeway?

A: Very Carefully, with very large machinery, and with great care...

HUGE WHEELS!



APPROACHING THE SPEED LIMIT

OK OK OK , just kidding... it was too wet and too windy to capture any footage or images on the 4-hour sail home from Ko'Olina... and the boatyard operations were so interesting I couldn't resist!

VERY LARGE MACHINERY

Anyways, Country Boy is back in the water after much-needed repairs...we sailed back in time to join the fleet coming in from the Friday Night Beer Races...

THE INFAMOUS "COUNTRY BOY"

FISH OUT OF WATER

JIM & HUGO SURVEY THE BOATYARD LANDSCAPE
AS WE ARE TAKEN TO THE SLIP



SKIPPER & FIRST MATE

The winds on this day are 20-25 knots, with gusts up to 34 knots recorded... we are sailing with a limited crew, and the seas are choppy; the boat bucks and pitches through the whitecaps as our Skipper slices deftly though the waves.

We round Campbell Industrial park, and a big US Military plane thunders overhead - a Submarine-Catcher, according to our First Mate. The big four-engined turbo prop will continue its maneuvers for the next 4 hours, repeating the same loop which takes it directly over and over and over and over us again and again for this leg of our journey: landing gear down on final approach to runway, black exhaust fumes trailing, extended tail radar gear ominously watching us. 3 out of 5 of us hold foreign passports, and we joke that they are keeping tabs on us.

There is a massive yellow buoy that looks more like a miniature oil rig off the coast here, that most Oahu residents are unaware of. 90% of Hawaii's energy needs depend upon imported petroleum. A massive tanker is tethered to the buoy, a web of gossamer ropes of each side is anchored to a small armada of tugboats whose job is to keep the tanker steady in the choppy seas so that the pipe does not break and cause an oil spill.

Being out in the ocean on a day like today, with the gusty wind and seas breaking over our bow and marinating us in briny seawater, only highlights how precarious the energy situation in Hawaii is.

Possible solutions? Click here:

"The State's combination of abundant renewable resources, high fossil fuel prices, limited geographic area and recognized expertise in hydrogen research and development makes Hawaii an ideal leader for hydrogen production. "
-from the book "Winning the Oil Endgame", Rocky Mountain Institute-

Download the two reports entitled "Energy for Tomorrow" for more information.

We pass Pearl Harbor approximately 3 nautical miles offshore, and the massive Evil White Dot glares at us from its perch in the middle of the harbor. I've heard that the equipment it houses can detect a mosquito farting in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I didn't know mosquitoes could make it that far out into the ocean; and I didn't know mosquitoes farted, for that matter... That being said, if the equipment housed in that thing really is that powerful, how come it couldn't help keep that silly battleship off the reef outside of Pearl Harbor one month back??

Anyways...on with our sail...the Travel Poet graces us with a beautiful acapella song over the roar of wind and waves, and a flock of seabirds appear, frolicking and wheeling playfully on the wind swirling just above the waves. We are all wet by now; no amount of skill can keep the boat dry in seas like this. First Mate Hugo tells us that on the open ocean, they would be riding over 20-foot swells that roll like the hills of New Zealand, graceful and flowing; not like the washing machine-like conditions that often arise in the seas around the islands.

A pair of whales' spouts, followed by a pair of whales' tails arch out of the water 500 feet or so ahead of us, straight off our bow, and we watch in awe as they continue their journey towards deeper, colder water as their calving season draws closer to its end for this year.

I lick my lips and taste sea salt as I prepare to bite into a poppy seed muffin that is being passed around the crew. The wind is whipping our hair, the boat crashes loudly through the waves breaking around us, and we are all calmly munching on a snack as nature pounds us all around. There is a rythm to sailing that sets in once the initial flight-or-fight response kicks in soon after you clear the harbor and hit sloppy seas, an adrenal high that gradually fades ince you step off the boat and back onto bring, stable, quiet [relatively speaking] dry land.

The sun, which has been muted by the pastel blue ocean and grey clouds all day, bursts through on its final sprint towards the other half of the world, casting a sunset-orange spotlight on all the buildings of downtown Honolulu and Waikiki as we near our destination and nonchalantly join the tail end of the fleet that is out racing this evening. You can almost hear the Honolulu jazz music wafting from the romantically lit buildings gleaming back at us...

We sail the boat all the way into its slip [the engine is still broken], and head back to the clubhouse with satisfied grins on all of our faces to enjoy a cold beer with each other.

Country Boy is an old friend to many sailors in and around Honolulu Yacht Club, has sailed in Hawaii's waters for the last 30 years... and she's baaaaaaaaaaack......

# # #

break on through...

"WHAT A FRIENDLY LOOKING HOLE.
LET'S GO SEE WHAT LIVES INSIDE!"

Today I went to the other side. Literally. Physically. Metaphysically. Let me explain:

A couple months ago while visiting Olomana Gardens in the foothills of Waimanalo, I followed along with an impromptu group hike and found out about a hidden trail that follows the water flumes which wind through the mountains and provide all the irrigation water for the agriculture in the area. We came across a tunnel about 4" high that disappeared into an almost sheer face of mountainside and was told that if we were to go through it, we would come out to the Lost World on the other side...

WAIMANALO WATER FLUMES

Today I went back. Today I went through the black, and came out on the other side.

We peer into the entrance and can only see blackness 30-40 feet in. The cool water rushing around our ankles gurgles impassively, and my stomach twitches as my mind starts to paint macabre pictures of creatures that lurk in deep, dark places, and of pale gaping faces floating in the night.

FELLOW ADVENTURER AND SOUL-SEARCHER:
LUCIE VOELCKER, THE TRAVELING POET OF GERMANY
AT THE TUNNEL ENTRANCE

Adrenaline kicks in and I can feel the glint in my eye brightening. The Traveling Poet's gaze meets mine, and our glinting eyes smile in agreement that we are actually going to go in.

The 9-LED flashlight, a gift I received only the day before, can only light the way 20 feet ahead before being swallowed by the blackness. It is a strange feeling, knowing that there are tons and tons of dirt, rock, trees, and who knows what else pressing in all around you. It is perhaps an even stranger thing to knowingly descend into these dark places of the earth; once the mind starts chewing on the your fears, the chatter is difficult to stop:

• "What if the light goes out?"
• "What lives in here?"
• "Remember that creature in Star Wars that dragged Luke under the muck in the garbage compacter? I wonder if that thing lives here..."
• "Now I know how Gollum must have felt; no wonder he went insane...."
• "Don't drop the flashlight."
• "What lies ahead?"
• "What was that?!?"
  
• "I don't want to see any faces. Or dead bodies. I don't do dead bodies. Or floating apparitions. No floating apparitions please."
• "What if this doesn't come out on the other side?"
  
• "What was that that just brushed my ankle?!"
• "Don't drop the flashlight!!"
• "DO NOT. DROP. THE FLASHLIGHT."
  

And on and on and on and on.....

On and on we press, losing all sense of time and space, save for what the flashlight can show us for the next twenty feet, the next 30 seconds. The tunnel walls are cold and roughly hewn, and beads of water glisten on the walls like pearls in the gray sky.

The water seems to simply appear out of thin air. The ceiling bears down upon us, seeming to get lower and lower with each step...then it toys with me, opening up every now and then enough to let me stand up straight.

Thankfully, The Traveling Poet starts singing. It is haunting and surreal and macabre and beautiful and strangely comforting all at the same time...

THE SOUND OF PITCH BLACK -
FOR BEST EFFECT, VIEW FULLSCREEN

We pause for a moment and turn off the light. The cool water rushes around my ankles, like busy commuters rushing and gurgling to make their trains. The walls press in around me, and my unseeing eyes blink naievely, desperately groping for light.

There is no difference between keeping my eyes open or closed. Panic rises in my stomach, and I smile broadly to laugh silently and keep the fear at bay.

The screen of my mind and the screen of my retina are one and the same, both inky blank canvases awaiting inspiration and direction...

We press on, the rythym of our sloshing footsteps keeping pace with my quickening heartbeat. I force my mind to stay on the light at the end of the tunnel, though it does not come. On and on into the next 20 feet of darkness we slosh, the water no longer gurgling but relentlessly going the other way, passing silent judgment on the decision to walk against the flow.

My life has become a cliche, and I am loving every minute of it: fear mixed with wonder mixed with anticipation shaken in mountain spring water and pressed by a hundred million tons of sheer-faced mountain...

It is no longer my imagination, the ceiling is getting gradually lower and lower now. Up ahead at the edge of the flashlight, I can make out a different shape, and I cringe....it looks like the roof has caved in, and I don't want to think about the implications of that.

As we get closer, the tunnel turns almost 90 degrees to the left, and what I thought was a cave-in is actually an older tunnel that has since been sealed. The water seems to have quickened its pace and is much louder here, and the cave ceiling keep getting lower.

Now, we are duck-walking, arse-deep in the water, and I am wondering if we will keep going like this until we shrink down and down and down into the size of m&m candies, like Alice in Wonderland, on our way to smoke hookahs with giant existentially philosophic caterpillars...

Up ahead in the distance, I see a simmering light...

It's not the Hotel California, it's the Exit to the Tunnel...and I can breathe deeply again. My thighs are aching from duck-walking the last 100 feet, but it doesn't matter now, I can see the end.

The Travel Poet emerges first, fourty feet ahead of me, and when I finally emerge blinking in the sunlight, a whole new world ... the Lost World ... comes into focus...

We are Sam Neil and Laura Dern, we are the only two humans left on the planet, we are the first two human beings on the planet...we are Adam & Eve. The other side is lush, vibrant green, a living, breathing soundscape of nature...

THE SOUNDS OF NATURE

With newly refreshed eyes and ears, each sight, sound, smell, touch is heightened, and we explore this wilderness we have discovered with childlike wonder, taking our shoes off and squishing through the mud, running up the valley walls and whooping with joy.

As the nature-induced ecstasy fades, we bask in the afterglow and settle back down next to the Exit, out portal back into the world we just escaped. Not ready to return yet, we hunker into our packs and much on organic energy bars and vegan apple cakes given to us that morning by our genius rockclimbing/smoothie-making friend [Badass Harvard Laureate]...and the Traveling Poet strums Martin [her guitar], and bursts into song again...

She is taken by the moment, channeling words and chords and melodies that speak to the moment we are sharing... I sit at her feet and am 6 years old again, close my eyes and am lifted with her voice, swirling with the notes up through the trees... she tells me later that when this happens, it is as if her soul is speaking to her through her own music. I am witnessing a faerie singing her heartsong in the wilderness with my own eyes...

INSPIRATION - CLICK FOR YOUTUBE VIDEO

# # #

...Today, I sat under a mountain, and in the complete absence of light, became a thought.

A bodiless, floating thought. As if the tunnel had collapsed, and my consciousness was ascending through the layers of rock and dirt through the mountain to gain a better view...and in that moment, I experienced peace.

Peace, knowing that if I had indeed died, that I had died while adventuring, doing exactly what I want to be doing - something I love... and absolutely living in the moment.

Peace, knowing that few humans had ever trod into the heart of this mountain...and fewer still had taken the time to stop, turn off their flashlights, and savor the experience.

Peace, melting into the walls of the tunnel, becoming one with the 'aina.

Peace, knowing that the world is what you think it is.

Peace, in communion with nature.

Peace, reconnecting with the source.

Peace.

# # #

barber shop chair wars!

Defending Champ: Matthew Lynch, World Famous Adventurer and Travel Writer
Challenger: Lucie Voelcker, Germany's Travelling Poet
Score: Champ - 2, Challenger - 0

Round 1

Challenger gets off to a [very] slow start...


Round 2

In which the Champ demonstrates that he has spent way too much time honing this skill...

The Equipment: vintage cast iron / red leather barber shop chairs circa 1940s...reclaimed from barber shop on Maunakea Streeet in Chinatown Honolulu...

....I'm gonna miss these chairs!!!

# # #