One Year On The Road... Thank Goodness For Friends. 

When we first jetted off from Yelapa, our little oasis in Mexico over a year ago, we had no idea where we were going, what we were doing, or even how long we’d be gone.

Other than seeing my eldest son, Kailan in Toronto – who I’d not been able to see in two years courtesy of the scamdemic, err plandemic… um, pandemic (sorry, I always get those words confused) – our itinerary was wide open.

For a brief period there, I thought we might go back. Hell, I wanted to keep that little hideaway as backup and/or rent it out on AirBnB to earn some extra travel money while we were gone, but to also keep it in our back pocket should another calamitous global stunt be pulled. However, the longer we were gone the more apparent it became – we weren’t coming back.

Despite Yelapa being the place that offered us sanctuary during a period when the world went mad (or madder depending on your take), and the genuine love and warmth we always received from the local residents and expats who embraced us as “familia” when we had none, it would not be.

AFTER THREE YEARS, IT WAS TIME

So with nothing more than a whim and a desire to broaden our horizons, and maybe set up roots somewhere in the U.S, we had no bloody idea we’d still be homeless and less rooted than ever, some 365 days on.

However, the one thing that bound us tight was a dream of finding a new place to call home. While we’ve lived and stayed in five U.S states (Florida; Georgia; California; Oregon; Washington), we’re getting ever nearer to a home… we think.

Along the way, we’ve flown (sometimes first class, because why not), and driven epic distances, but in that time we’ve seen some truly stunning places. The enchanting temperate forest in upper Washington state, which is completely covered in moss (see photos below) and was once part of a great ancient forest that stretched from the bottom of Alaska, down through Canada, all the way to the mid-coast of California. The tranquil Lake Crescent, Washington, which we had to ourselves save for a handful of black tailed deer. More recently, seeing wild orcas cruise for 30 minutes, all from the lawn of where we are. Magical.

On the flip side, however, I’ve also noticed disturbing trends across the US (and Canada), with homelessness on the rise everywhere, where tent cities now dominate many urban landscapes, accompanied with more people living in their cars than I’ve ever seen before.

An increase in vacant buildings, many in disrepair. While the once mighty American shopping malls are now a shell of their former selves. They've become nothing more than relics of a bygone era with small independent retail businesses unable to compete with gargantuan online shopping networks, and shuttering all over the country as a result. It's leaving many malls almost eerily empty. The decline of once thriving mid-sized cities and small towns impossible to ignore.

IT'S SUCH A CONFRONTING JUXTAPOSITION

As an independent world traveller who’s been lucky enough to have traversed some 60+ countries, across six continents, living in eight major cities around the world, I’ve always found myself grateful to have the means. But as I get older and hopefully wiser (though possibly a little more jaded), I’m finding travel much less attractive and enjoyable than I did.

Maybe it was the wide-eyed naivety and excitement of being a young 22-year-old buck, wanting to drink, discover, and rut his way through countries all in the name of fun. These days, I don’t drink, rut, nor discover countries in the way I did. In fact, I don’t feel like travelling anywhere much these days.

Other than a tiny handful of countries I’d still like to see – Iceland; Borneo (for the orphaned orangutans); Sumatra (for the tigers); Palau (for the lake full of jellyfish who've lost their ability to sting); Mongolia (for the lack of people); anywhere in the Pacific Ocean where I can hope to see the world’s largest ever animal, the elusive blue whale – there isn’t a huge desire for me to want to explore the way I once used to.

These Days I’m Happiest Staying Home Exploring My Mind, My Marriage, My Writing.

The one constant, however, is the friendships I’ve been fortunate enough to have made during some earlier expeditions in the days long before the internet, smartphones, and social media, took over people’s minds and lives. Back when you had nothing more than genuine conversations, which would eventually move over to pen & paper when you continued your own journey and you’d have to make do sending a letter or postcard. Ah nostalgia.

The fact that these friendships have survived in an ever increasing world of instant gratification and “busyness” where it seems everyone has much less time for anything let alone anyone, is astounding. But endure they have.

If I was to ever travel as extensively again, I’d only want to visit all the incredible souls around the globe I’ve had the good luck to meet from previous jaunts.

Deal (U.K); Mexico City, Playa del Carmen (Mexico); Winnipeg (Canada); Glenroy, Fawkner, Thornbury, Canberra (Australia); Teirdebba (Lebanon), East London (South Africa); and other lesser known locales. Most of these places are on no one’s travel radars, but to me it’s always been the people that make a place; and it’s the moments with them that make the best memories. I wish I could visit all of you for a cuppa & convo, and long overdue in-person catchup, I truly do.

That’s why this unforeseen, year-long sojourn has turned up some unexpected moments with some truly remarkable people.

ISABEL

It had been 14 years since I last saw Isabel, or ‘Is’ as I’ve always dubbed her. The last time we hung out was back in 2009 when I was undertaking my epic South American odyssey. Is and I originally met in this hard to reach, backwater town called, Mompox, which sits somewhere between Cartagena and Bucaramanga in Colombia. 

Whenever I meet a Colombian and tell them how much I loved travelling their country (top two of my all-time fave countries), they always ask me where I went. When I reel off all the places, they’re impressed. But when I mention Mompox, their jaws drop. Not even they manage to get there. But this is where Is and I met.

She had an effervescence and energy that typifies that warm and inviting Latin American attitude they’re famous for, which culminated in her in inviting us to stay at her place in Bogota after swimming in a muddy river during a boat tour we did just a few short days prior. It’s that kind of generosity of spirit that leaves an indelible mark.

She took us out on the town in Bogota, where we had mojitos as I danced up a white boy storm on the dance floor, while Isabel being Colombian, had that typical Latin American, Shakira hip-swagger confidence they all exude with ease.

We kept up contact for a while, but as life has a way of doing, it “lifes” and contact became less infrequent over time. After she did some great human rights lawyer things in Haiti for the UN, the last I heard she tripped off over to Uganda, Africa and that was that.

So imagine my surprise when several years later, I discovered that she was living in Mexico, in the gorgeous Polanco district of Mexico City – a place my wife and I had visited and stayed a couple of times when we needed to secure some international documents from the Aussie and Mexican embassies. But I hadn’t realised this until right before we were about to leave Mexico. Thankfully, an errant message was answered and before we both knew it we finally caught up late last year. She is now married, with three beautiful boys of her own, while still doing her amazing UN human rights lawyer’ing thing.

To catch up wondering what became of her after all this time, was fantastic, but even more so when her three year old and my two year old played together happily. We’ve reconnected and now in much greater contact. It’s fair to say, there won’t be 14 years between our next get together that’s for sure.

DEAN

The last time I saw this big fella, was 28 years ago at his going away party back in Edinburgh, Scotland. Dean was the kind of guy everyone loved and looked up to. The elder “statesman” to us wide-eyed, naïve travel pups.

What I remember of this New Zealand Maori, was of a guy that despite towering over most of us, he was a gentle giant with an even bigger heart. We all met up in the indelible High St. Hostel/Royal Mile Backpackers – a dual backpacker hostel right on the famous Royal Mile. It’s where a big band of us would go on to become lifelong friends.

I was loosely in touch with Deano here and there, but travel, kids, and other life priorities soon became the norm and correspondence was intermittent. But when I discovered he was still living in Bend, Oregon, a destination we would be passing through on our way up north, I immediately reached out.

And boy am I glad. Like me (and like most of us), he’s a bit older, a bit greyer, but still the same gentle giant I remembered so fondly from years before. He and his partner housed us for a night and it was great to catch up after almost three decades talking about all those familiar faces we are still in contact with, and of course, the hilarious, riotous times we all had at High St/Royal Mile backpackers in the mid ‘90s. Fun, crazy times!

With fully grown kids of his own (20y.o & 17y.o, who stand 6’11” and 6’7” respectively), he immediately re-embraced his inner dad once more and got down on his hands & knees to play with Iluka, who took an instant shine to him.

Here’s to it not being another 28 years before we hang out again.

CLINT

Like Dean, Clint is also from the High St. Hostel/Royal Mile Backpackers glory days. And like Dean, it had also been 28 years since I last saw him, too. We had once travelled by rental car all around Northern Ireland and into parts of Ireland, with three other Aussie compadres for plenty of shenanigans. The Guinness beer hop store in Dublin, providing plenty of dumb, silly fun and revelry to be sure, to be sure.

His life then led him all over, with stints in Vietnam, even Afghanistan, and other far flung places. I had no idea he was even living Stateside until I’d reached out recently as a direct result of this newsletter.

But U.S based he now is, and to my disbelief, exactly on the way to yet another destination for us up north. What are the chances?

While waiting in a long, unmoving queue for a river crossing by car ferry, a once flaming red-haired Clint rode down on his bike and we instantly embraced like old friends minus the pint glasses of Guinness. 

Marriage, a son who’s one year older than my eldest, Kailan, and regaling one another with a few funny “war stories” of past misdeeds, or where so and so is and what they’ve been up to etc.

While our time was short (we made plans to have a proper get together on the flip side of our visit up north), it was still great to see him after so many years and fill in a few blanks for each other here and there. 

Here’s to spending more time hanging out and filling each other in on the past three decades. Where does the time go?

LEANNE

I’d last seen my friend Leanne, back in L.A. some eight years prior. Always fun and a good craic, we’d had some contact over the proceeding years. When we came back to Oregon, this time Portland for another lovely petsitting stay, I almost forgot she lived here. Really, I did.

A quick reach out, and an even quicker plan, and by Sunday we were getting together over a hot chocolate and filling in the blanks, while introducing her to my wife Jennifer, and youngest son Iluka, where her instant aunt shone out.

Seeing another fellow Aussie again and Melbournian at that, after three years of going without seeing a single bloody one in Yelapa, was a huge bonus. There’s just a different level of banter and understanding you just don't get from North Americans. 

Like those above, I’m hopeful another eight years won’t pass before our next catch up.

THE TRICK – NOT GETTING LOST IN NOSTALGIA

But I don’t get lost in the nostalgia of the past. That’s a dangerous, precarious place to stay. It means you become stagnant, have no new adventures, no longer move forward or embrace change, no matter how challenging it may be. Because it’s not all about the older, established friendships I’ve managed to form, cultivate, and maintain over the years.

I’m always open to discovering new people, hearing great stories, and people who remind me of what’s its like to be free, wide-eyed, and excited for the future.

KIRA

Kira is the kind of fresh-faced, perky and joyful 20 year old that you can hope to come across no matter what your journey. Someone who reminds you of what’s its like to have the world at your feet without a care in the world, and look on at it in awe and wonder.

Talking to someone like Kira gets me animated to babble on about all things travel and adventure (a fave pastime of mine), and in doing so renews my excitement in life once more. It’s also a chance to hear new stories (in between her making coffees for customers), while being able to impart your own wisdom when warranted, and share your own unique travel experiences. 

Ultimately, it’s a chance to start a new conversation, while learning new things from someone you normally wouldn’t hang out with. On account of the exchanges we had over a few days when I'd stop by to get a much needed tea on the way to a park with Iluka, she's now subsequently joined this newsletter. 

FUN FACT

Kira and Ladder Cafe, serve up arguably the best waffles I’ve ever tasted. They use a special ingredient (chilli powder), which magically transforms these waffles into a delight only your tastebuds can describe. For me, they’re utterly fucking scrumptious. She also makes a great lavender chai tea.

But not only that, this bright eyed, vivacious 20 year old wants to travel – by motorbike! Talk about a badass. 

If you ever find yourself up in Spokane, Washington, stop in for a delicious waffle and a chat, and tell her I said gidday. You might just find yourself on the receiving end of one of her warm, welcoming smiles.

LANCE & ERIC

While in Spokane, we were also treated to an impromptu mini concert courtesy of high schoolers Lance and Eric (bottom left), who picked out a great outdoor space under the former world exhibition centre, as they perfected their trombone skills in readiness for a big comp. (That's them in the image on the right, at the very bottom left under the huge one-time enclosed world exhibition centre roof).

But It’s Not Just People I’ve Met In Person

When I first started this newsletter back in January, I had no idea I would have people reach out to me, to then subsequently want to arrange video calls. It was an unexpected shock to say the least. But that’s exactly what’s happened!

I chatted to Diogo, an old Brasilian friend I first met back when I was living in Rio de Janeiro, for a short while. I haven’t seen him since 2009 when we first met at a writer’s event in Rio. Like everyone else, we kept up some contact but that ol’ thing called life, just kept on life’ing and it became more and more scarce. But a two hour, free flowing call came easily. I quickly discovered he is now in Austria, married, and planning on having a kid at 40. Beyond stoked for him.

Or my wonderful Jamaican/U.S friend, Kim, who I’ve not seen since I left L.A eight years prior. She too wanted a good old fashioned chinwag. I’ve all the time in the world for her because she did the most extraordinary, kindhearted thing for me when I needed a friend the most, which I’ve never forgotten. And now she’s engaged, writing a novel, and happier than ever. I’m so thrilled for her.

There'll be a few more in person catch-ups when we come to L.A for a short stint before heading out to Joshua Tree for a couple of months. 

To say it has all caught me off guard is an understatement.

These are some examples of what travel and friendship brings and means to me. It’s different. It’s always been different. And it continues to astound and amaze me what happens when you get out of your comfort zone, put yourself out there, smile, and be unafraid to say hello. 

You just never ever know what can come from such a simple greeting. 

What’s a fave memory from someone you met travelling?