The Leathertramp

Each night we were amongst the city lights, surrounded by an international collective, we seemed to sit looking at each other, quietly letting hope breeze over head. Well I'm sorry, but I believe more that if you are there and I am as well, we have more in common than you may think. Move your table and meet my pupil. These are the paths that I have crossed, those being yours. This is a foundation for the circle of life. How much does it cost to wake up, walk out and open your eyes and heart.
Humility. An interesting state, one that I fear as well as embrace at times. If I could break free, completely of self image and its value, I think humility would become a less frequent merchant of my Venis.
I will continue to welcome tommorrow aside from any discomfort, or disatisfaction.

Each night we spent in Brisee, found ourselves at the Southbank 'beach', late night, dipping skinny like, and keepin the evening alive any way we could. The firswt night was a bit quiet and we had another party jump in on the fun, doing what we could to amuse ourselves in this chase for youth outside of the blues.
The naked race. A nail biting event with only one winner, a long distance swim where few of us were in water deeper than the knees. The losers have to live within themselves, knowing the event of the season fell through the cracks of their fingers. I was sure I had this one, but part way through became exhausted from either a defisciancy of carlton draught or the opposite. Still, if Jenna didn't hop out and jog the final segment I would have locked it in.
It was an evening of self sufficiency and freedom. A time, happy to have broken away from the dumping cyclone cycles, living it up, striding for the makings of our own kind of bible.

I don't necessarily come to see a sand dune or witness a shipwreck, but instead to walk the earth, as those whom did before me. Riddled with curiosity, happy to have my hom felt on the road I seek no lesser pleasure or no more in fact. Salvation to taste like salavating gums and to step outside of that society being fed into our brains since the day we squared up with the fetus.

Sadly, I live within borders outside the box, following the same proceedure as so many before me. Hitching through Alaska, alone, seldom you meet someone who walks that path. Here, there is no Alexander Supertramp, only a gang of easy ticket backpackers.
I have locked in the fear and focus, need to release the chains, chase the demons out of these gates and prepare for a time of freedom and wandering in proportion.

Yesterday friends walked passed the line between youth and sanction. Myself, I will try to walk the line for whatever time it takes until the vegabond rest. Still, my big heart aches for the pain I feel when reflecting on those people I have loved, lost, will lose, have grown to learn and listen along side. The journeys we've made together, the history we've weaved inside books like these, but in every revolution there must be casualties. I suppose.

So maybe all of us will find each other at the Pacific Crest in Northern California or maybe I can finally break free and never look back. SOme poeple may not understand the feeling, chasing a car down when its agreed to allow you on board. The segments of time that take place when conversation go from small talk to reality, and the few times when it goes from simple to warm. Some may struggle to grasp the leathertramp.

The mentality of Dylan

One of the men I spoke with had given so much to many struggling villagers in Thailand because he believed in sharing his good fortune of born into a first world. He gave enough money to properly care for over seventy people for a whole month. Rent and food, with a month of leverage, they could get ahead on the month following. Truely incredible. They also spoke passionately of the troubles in Nimbin, where tourists come through for an hour, use and abuse and then dash. Not willing to take the time to acknowledge the town and its leisurely lifestyle.

Charlie, a true scotsman living in Nimbin eight years found his refuge there, basically by accident. Happy to live through the motions that this town entailed. He was a drifter that sent time in jail, in Canada, inthe 70's deported, never to return. The mans first taste of Mary Jane was in Canada in his time spent through the midwest. He spoke very highly about the country and he also spoke highly of the town he found his feet in at current. A truck driver, delivery type, that got wind of Nimbin through a couple of caravan types, taking time from life to discover this valley dug out by hippies.

The backpackers was basically camping and the yard was definately made for it. The next day we set off searching for diving opportunities along the cliffs ledge at a quiet waterfall. Small, maybe fifteen feet with a massive lagoon, spent about an hour butalising my body off the cliffs surrounding Something releasing about spinning your body in different directions. It is freeing o escape the sensibility for a moment and take wind at chance. It was a little rocky, I was a little out of my skin for no particular reason, but i still got up and spun it around a bit. Things have changed within me and I believe I am beginning to acquire a fear for truely hurting myself. Where I would try and take chance before, at times get a slight injury, now that i am where i am maybe the healing process will be carrying a long term effect.

Disatisfied, eager for something of bliss, we dug out, a path, not so easy, unfamiliar with the roads, unfamiliar with each other, finally found ourselves at Mignon falls, through the winding roads climbing the canyons of a volcano once burning through the years. The Falls overlooked a creek covered in green being fed by this three hundred foot flowing force of water. Here we stood with others. One of the sights I had been hungry for.

Returning to Byron, we arrived with the sun working its way through the afternoon. In Byron, my beach has got to be Dolphi, where nbody goes, but harmony and sound. This day we arrived killing time with some Stella, waiting to unite with the German folks we had missioned to meet.

The crew I travelled with for a few short days. There is Roland. Kind young German man on a tourist visa, making his way across Australia, on his last of days. He and I met through Jenna, a young woman quite a bit associated with the things I love. Especially the 'Beats', especially my man Kerouac. Her tunes connected me with my sound i missed for I chose to disconnect with technology early. Our taste in music was in alignment, wich i cannot say happens very often. Certainly not here in Australia. We had met at dinner time the night before, where I cooked for a couple of soldiers through termoil, the lovely Abi and our french connection.
Pat, a fellow Canadian, from Newfoundland, we connected with by no coincedance through Jenna as well. We had met at the hostel in Brisbane, where he had just arrived. A good man lust like any other I've encountered from the island off of our Canadian east coast. And then there was Isabelle, very short lived this one, she had backed out last minute, feeling that our energy the night before was a little too heavy and wild for her taste. And that night, im afraid was a little on the mild side as well...
In the time I spent dreaming, hoping, full of desire, I'm not sure what I really expected. Something cosmic, some sort of life altering shake of my stars. Maybe a chance to feel normal, somewhere I belong.
Seeking out something so primitive may take away some of my credential, but still, storing away feelings and burying my truths are one car after the other headed for a wall. Happiness is something to pursue, but does not necessarily exist every day. And the depression that can be casued by heavy amounts of barrel spill and rainfall can open doors of otrment and slumber.

Travel is not necessarily a means to run away, it is a chance to grow, experience, see, visualize other cultures and character. Dance inside without the disfunction, why can't it be good and just stay so simple. Hold the horns and still steady your weight.
What day does the iron lung collapse, and for the times I say, "the hell with it", "balls to the wall" Letting go of any spiritual substance I may accutally envoke; Foolish words for the loss of control. It is the will to be free, because even the substance allows the mind to wander, but it is still surrounded by a fence, protected tightly with barb wire.

In between dreams we spent some time walking the main streets of Brisbane looking for something of curiosity, and me, primarily, looking for people of good nature. That town is not a place of magestic beauty, it is a city of one million plus. However, there is a nice, politeness, a small town feeling with thousands of travellers passing thorugh, some with a unique story. That which I try to find for myself.

Why is it that in a group where we are all seperated from our force living by nature and time without any necessary direction, where in a group of 'Dylans' few open up and share a thought.

Back the way of Nimbin

Once on the plane, the signs come like omen, ended up beside a couple of familiar friendlies. Decidedly, I would follow them to the Bunk hostel just on the square of chinatown, where I barely found a bed. In a city with nearly fifteen hostels, you would think the space would be easy to find, but every time I end up in that town, it is a struggle to find something without occupancy. The hostels are not small townhomes or anything either. These are buildings with five floors like hotels with out the leisurely mattresses. The room I squeezed into had a warning noted beside it on the front desk computer. The boys who have been residing within, Irish lads, a bit messier than most and carried a slight odour of young men with little care to take on. Beggars can't be chosers and it really was not so bad. After living in a room with twelve bunks and eleven of them sleeping eighteen year old kiwi snowboarders, each with hockey bags carrying aroma like a mountain of dirty socks, I could handle most things.
While out on the town exploring the city's botanical garden with these new traveller mates I met on the plane, we began to slowly formulate a plan to rent a car and head south on a decent road trip to Byron Bay. Here we could meet up with a couple of the mates we were drinking with in the park and a few others, Germans, that we would meet later that night. Having already thrown a handsome amount of confetti around in Byron I was not so intrested in that, but, maybe it would be another chance to explore the Nimbin valleys. A chance to take on Mt Warning, a chance to do some diving off a waterfall or two.

Last time thorugh Nimbin, our stop was only for a couple of hours, trying to reach some of the hidden entertainment provided by mother nature, and well some of the snacks they passed around in the town itself. If your considering the brownies, don't bother wasting the money, the same goes for the cookies... Apparently they are not the best of bakers on the easiest of days.
This time around, happily I can say, there was a real connection from not only the agriculture, but the local 'elders' as well.

A glorious mood magic airlie beach

The whitsundays adventure. Where money can buy you happiness, and the exploitation of a travellers hunger provide cash flow to the business aspect of the whole east coast of Australia. Here is where it begins for some, starting out in Cairns, making their way down through each town like a bullet point spread sheet. A real inspiration for the eager adventurer. Fortunately i can see more than i meet my eye, and within the lost formation of seperation there are a few of the good ones that really want to make it through on their way to something deeper and brighter on the other side.
Here is a place where my flaws can strengthen, silver and gold, the fame is all here and there is possibility. I breathe through harmony and wonder. Here , now, when the party is over and the rain keeps coming, the bones are chilled and honest. There are beautiful areas along this coast, but the traps I fall into prove to deteriorate genuine man.

Through challenge and conquest, the trial was fresh, another few steps with the lonesome traveller. In the quiet hours I was able to make some connections with the fuel that got me here in the first place. Those who are here for discovery, character building, not just here to fornicate existance and conger through irrelevant affair.

A young man whose taste for the outside world brought him from France, through eastern Europe, across Russia, Korea, and Japan to find himself sitting with me and a young woman who definately had her heart in the right place.

For life, there are good people and great people. Across the globe I have met many good and, well, less of the great. As time passes and paths pull friendships apart, distance ultimately dislocates our shoulders and hips. Trying to maintain a relationship with some foundation with those that moved you, or still do, can be a true force of reckoning.
Since being in Australia I have met some really good folk. A few of them, a great feeling caress the surface, unfortunately none of them will stay alongside. We are all independants and for that we cannot be caged. Still, the lady that allowed me freedom and donated truth whenever circumstance arise, she holds my tongue, and embraces the hand of apathy and aspiring socio-investigation.

While our friend travelled Russia, others were busy living as well. Abi, who sat with us two Joe's through the rainy nights. Another interesting young woman with character and a good sense of what we are doing out here. There are those who get many integral pieces from the road they walk. There are some that are happy dancing to a song about oblivion. Come to Australia on a tourist visa to inspect before humbling in, ran a tight budgetsearching it's land. Not interested in the gene pool of the 'lagoon'. A misfit from 'every day' life living for somebody, like most of us until the day when chance breaks us free so we can divide and conquer.

There are also the young people, some of them travelling alone, some in groups, celebrating a Uni graduation or maybe even a highschool grad. This is their time to hit the high road of underbelly street sweeping, live wild and then either carry the torche or settle in surrounded by their picket fence.
After some thought about this process, there are two roads in my opinion. After a place like this, the travelling will infect blood or it will allow wild flowers to knuckle down and set it for the winters.

While in Airlie, caught in the rainy, passing through, the kind, quiet, timid and strong, in these conditions we had to fight to find smiles. So many stories of plans shattered, money lost, hearts disconnected.
Three girls down on their luck, one scenario after another, only trying to breathe some good life, stuck fighting off tears of frustration and fear. A time where you can really learn about yourself. As long as you are listening and ready to take action when the boat levels out.
These three from Vancouver Island were cornered pulling string, when in an instant, conditions altered and unlucky turned to a brighter fortunate sun in one quick stride. Would this be just anohter day, or is it an omen openning the shutter doors to a window where they have been patiently waiting to have view from where at. I got the opportunity to sit down and share a good night of laughs and tales of two cities, as the story goes... Though I may have been drawn in by one or another, each individual speaks a story of fair weather and broken strings on their own acoustic guitar of life. If we were back on the island, we would have been gathered around a fire singing a song or two, maybe by citizen cope, maybe not, and there would be faces the same, that we encounter each day, where we can only see living in rhapsody. There are the beats, defining the line we walk now, and there are those of us who live without classification who keep the dream alive and continue on, along this battlefield where to keep moving on is the only way to pursue.

Although the place was saturated with debaucherous animals swinging around like monkeys, looking for any opportunity to bunk up or cut loose, some of them were integrity and street value for the open road.
Difficult to find the ones where they did not speak English so well, there was too much opportunity for them to speak with others of the same native tongue. Still, I had the chance to practice some French and build a little on my lack of International knowledge. In a place like this where the energy is hanging from limb to limb like a mokey tree and there are so many spirit present with so many different intention, it is hard to see face value in moments and mayhem. Still, I am fortunate for living it out, and these moments of debauchery may have held the man back, but it let the boy climb.

Finally comes the time to make the decision I feared. To turn around and return to the coastal area where I came. With big hopes and aspirations, the laws of nature prove to be too powerful. Either sit in the dumping buckets of cyclone waters or try and piece together another journey in this character rich land of Austrlaia.
With the help of a young lady from NEw Brunswick, Sophia, I was able to pick up a plane ticket one way to Brisbane. Having a credit history worse than Al Capone, her credit card was futile to success. naturally, the whole next day was beautiful, until the clouds came through another time, and flooded us in even further.

The airport was completely full of backpackers fleeing South for some beach sun. A little undecided and a little careless about seeing the ever so trendy Surfers Paradise, I was basically waiting for a sign.
Waiting for landscape with the sun on my face, looking for experience, thirsty for a taste. So where a journey depends on courage and cash, its maybe time that I buckle down and find the funds.

the sign reads and I smile along side

The journey coming, a taste of the true aussie. One hand out and the sign does the talking. Airlie. Straight out of Noosa with smoke shooting from these thongs of mine. What looked like the face of my enemy straight out of the gate, it was not long in the rain before a Neavy vet stopped to extend his arm with the kindness of a ride. Marybara would be the first stop along the A1, a truck stop like any other, but in this country the burgers come with beets.
Continuing in the fashion I started, it was not more than a few minutes before getting another lift. Dreams of the big drive again a little unsettled, unusual for the coastal cove I've slipped into. Days should be dimesspinning with the light of a rosey sky brightened from blue.
On the highway it was different, it was real, it was natural. Life imitating art. Standing outside a broken phone booth with more change than I can count, anxious to speak to one.

Nearly reaching Airlie, caught a ride outside Mackay, chasing the sun and time is of the essence. Standing there I was drawn back by a circular rainbow around the sun. All the colour, patterned the same, beaming beautifully like nothing I've seen.
The choice characters are the reasons for thumbing the open road. Outside Rockhampton, after a mission to get through the city, for reason of the highest discomfort.
The boys that dropped me in Rockie driving from gladstone pulled up, side of the highway, having just entered town I plunged out anxious to keep luck on my side. Moments later I realized that I left my wallet in their van, and it might as well have been El Segundo. Nightmare on my street and the hooks cut deep. Here I am without a dime or a bankcard and in dire necessity to find a Westpac Bank.
The only move I had was to walk into town and track one down. Fortunately for me, I have made some good choices in life, becuase I received an open offer from an elderly man, local, in a tourism station to get me there. He would be my saviour for the month. In the westpac it looks like seven working days until another card would be available. Again, fortunate man, the card will be mailed to a branch in Cairns, where I could connect with it.

After all the delay I had to walk a good forty five minutes to the main drag, and highway stretching out of town. One quick ride from a youth from town got me to a good rest stop and there I aiwaited my next patron.
The man that picked me up out there was in his early fifties and a well travelled man himself when he was young. Illegaly smuggling electronics from Singapore to New Delhi for rich Hindus he made a living an dlived there, where he would end up even having his first child. He lived this dream of mine through Asia and Nepal in the late seventies, much younger than I with the life experience now to dance in peace through his days instead of taking into the pains and discomforts.