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Let Down by my Ears

Those who have met me in person know that I am partly deaf. I was born that way, and when you don’t know what you’re missing, you get along OK. I seemed to cope with it, getting through life more or less fine. I never really felt left out, or overly frustrated by it – although those around me probably did. Getting hearing aids at the age of 20 made a massive difference – I didn’t absolutely have to be looking at someone when they spoke to me, although it still helped.

This year I’ve done some diving – 10 dives now – and people will of course think hey diving’s perfect if you’re deaf – you can’t talk underwater anyway! There is of course some truth in that. And of course you know about issues with equalisation when descend/ascend, and clearing your ears.

But what you don’t always know about is the aftereffects of the combination of water and pressure on your ears, and consequently your hearing. That water getting forced in there doesn’t really do it any favours, and so after diving you leave your hearing aids out, to let them dry out a bit. Not having your aids in, and having water in there makes you rather deaf – lucky it was good friends on the boat with me. It’s easier with voices that you’re familiar with. It does make you wary of joining conversations though, as you’re not sure if you’re missing things, or misinterpreting them.

We did a lot of diving that weekend at the Poor Knights, and it seemed to be too much, too deep, too soon for me. My ears were sore for a couple of days, and I felt a little more deaf than usual. Ronelle put me onto Vosol – a couple of drops in each ear in the evening. That helped a bit, but it’s not a cool look sitting around with toilet paper in your ears…Things weren’t quite right by the weekend though, so rather than exacerbate the problem, my advisor said I was better to give it a rest. So I’m going to have to wait until this weekend to try again – not too deep this time though.

On a completely different note – There is No Depression in New Zealand. I went out to Sale St Bar last night to catch up with some old university friends. The place was pretty busy, for a Wednesday night. It’s a big place, so that means quite a few people there. That place must be absolutely heaving on a Friday night, all the people who want to be seen out for a good time.

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Getting cold and wet…and loving it

My friend Ronelle is back in the country for a very limited time, in transit from South Africa to South America. She is now a qualified dive instructor, and encouraged me to complete the PADI Advanced Open Water course, on a liveaboard trip to the Poor Knights. I had completed the first Open Water course in Thailand earlier this year, but had not been out diving since. This was a good excuse to do some more diving, complete the course, see the highly rated Poor Knights, and most importantly, catch up with Ronelle and Tara.

We drove up on Friday night, slept on the boat in the marina, then headed out on Saturday morning. Hanging around being monkeys seemed to be part of the pre-dive warmup:

Hanging on the back of the Pacific Hideaway

A busy weekend followed, with four dives on Saturday, and two more on Sunday. I was only diving in a 5mm wetsuit, and with water temperatures around 15°, I was getting pretty cold and tired, so I sat out the third and last dive on the Sunday. We had some good dives though, doing things like navigation, going deep (26m), night diving (perhaps not my cup of tea), and probably my favourite, the naturalist. Basically for that you just went and looked at the fish, plants and animals. That’s more like what diving should be. Unfortunately the weather wasn’t suitable for doing a wreck dive on the way home, and indeed the trip back was a bit more interesting, but it was still good on the sheltered side of the islands.

I didn’t get home until 11pm on Sunday night, and was pretty well stuffed at work on Monday. No worries though, it was a really good weekend. Special mention to my Dive Master Tara, for looking after me, and getting me home safely. I’m not sure that drinking with your students the night before a deep dive is recommended practice though…

I don’t know how much more diving I’ll be able to fit in, as I’ve got lots of other things to do with my weekends, and I don’t know where I’d store the gear around my apartment, but I will be going out again this weekend, a bit closer to home, at Goat Island. Hopefully get a feed of scallops too.

And finally, here’s something you don’t do every day: get your ex girlfriend to help you write an ad for an Internet dating site. Hopefully I don’t come across as many odd sorts as she did. We’ll see how it works out. With a bit of luck, I’ll at least make a few new friends.

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Vote Early, Vote Often

I don’t think I’ve ever managed to be in my home electorate for polling day. I’m always overseas, or in a different part of the country, or something. This year is no exception, although it was a bit easier to cast a special vote this time, by going in to the main electoral office. It was just like voting on polling day really, but without the crowds. Perhaps that’s why one third of Americans vote early. I didn’t even need to make up an excuse, I just ticked the box on the form. Easy. And now I can go and vote a few more times if the last leaders’ debate changes my mind, right?

Other happenings: You may have heard of the “Dangerous Book for Boys” – well my parents have got me a dangerous book of sorts. The “Insight Deluxe World Atlas” – that’s right, an atlas weighing 5kg. 1:4.5M maps of the world, along with details on the great touring routes of the world. Dangerous indeed. I have to restrict my reading of it though, I might get too many ideas for spending the next decade on the road.

I think I do need to go overseas again too, just so that I can get my bike services. When I was in Iran, and my bike needed some work, I found a place that sorted it out right there, while I waited. In China, going into a bike shop got me invited to a Christmas party. In Alice Springs, the helpful staff went out of their way to help me out, reshuffling other jobs around, to ensure I could get back on the road in a reasonable timeframe. So surely it can’t be that hard to get my mountain bike serviced here in NZ, given that there are 4 bike shops within one kilometre of my house, with another due to open next week. Alas.

My preferred shop, that I walk past every day, had just had their mechanic leave, and so couldn’t do any major work required. OK, it happens. So I find another place, and get told that it will be a minimum of two weeks before they can look at it. Hmmm. Oh well, let’s book it in then. So I go through a list of what I want done, and they write it down on the job card, and tell me to bring the bike back in a fortnight. Righto. Just under two weeks later I turn up to drop the bike off. Wait, we don’t seem to have any record of your booking. Ah finally we find the job card, but we don’t seem to have actually scheduled your bike in. The schedule’s pretty well chocka, but it looks like we can squeeze it across a few slots. Well that’s fine, as long as I get it back before the weekend. Of course sir, we’ll call you on Thursday to confirm it.

There was quite a bit of work to be done, so I was expecting a confirmation call if it was going to be an expensive job. No phone call on Thursday, so on Friday I rung them up to confirm it was ready. Yes, we tried contacting you, and left messages. Er, no, no you didn’t, as I don’t have any missed calls or voicemail messages. Well, the bike is ready anyway.

So I turn up early on Saturday morning, planning on picking up the bike early, so I could go out for a club ride in the afternoon. Wait a second, my bike looks exactly the same…they hadn’t even started the job. No note, nothing. Just hadn’t done it, even though it was clearly marked as being on the day schedule. WTF?

Not happy. Not happy at all. Especially since there’s a reasonable chance that they’ll tell me it’s going to cost more than $500, and I’ll be better off getting a new bike anyway…

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The New Twenty-One

Five years ago today, I turned 25. I admit, I felt a bit down that day, as I felt that life was slipping me by, and that at 25, I hadn’t really done much. I was single, only in my second professional job, had only lived in two cities, and had only visited one other country – and only Australia at that. I thought that by that stage in my life I should have seen and done more.

Fast forward five years. Still single, and living back in Auckland again. But I’ve lived in three different countries now, and I’ve visited over 30 countries – and more than 20 of them under my own steam. I lived in England and Scotland, I travelled around Europe, I travelled independently around the Middle East, including less-visited countries such as Libya and Syria. I’ve seen rock art in the Sahara, I’ve been to the great bazaars of the Middle East, I’ve walked “that street they call straight” in Damascus, I’ve been to the scenes of major WWII battles for NZ soldiers – Crete and El Alamein.

The last trip was of course the most challenging, riding a bike across the Eurasian and Australian continents. All worth it, to see the old Silk Roads, and to challenge myself in a completely different way. I’ve seen parts of the world that not many tourists ever see, and a different side to countries to that normally experienced by visitors. I’ve seen severe poverty, and I’ve seen extreme wealth – often in the same country. I also pushed myself further than perhaps I knew I could go.

I’ve met many people along the way, and, I hope, made a few friends. Things weren’t always easy, but if I looked around, there were people to help and support me, and I thank all of them.

So I’m happy with what’s happened in the last few years. Does this mean I’ve done everything I want to? No, of course not. But that’s what the next 60 years is for, insh’allah. I’m currently pondering my next major move – trans-America by bike is very appealing, but I like the look of Te Araroa – an off-road walk the length of New Zealand. Not quite complete yet, but getting there. Perhaps a different challenge to the bike. It can wait for a while though.

I went to get a physical check-up today, as required for doing a dive course. The quack seemed to think I’m pretty healthy, no problems there. I blew into the asthma tester, and it went off the scale “Don’t think we’ll bother doing that one again.” I seem to be a couple of kilos heavier than I was when I got off the bike – probably a good thing there, now I’m closer to a healthy weight. Been back at the gym too, the legs are fine, but the arms are so weak!

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Summary:The Usual Suspects

This is a roundup of some of the most common questions that people ask me – no particular order, and many of them have probably been answered elsewhere in my blog. I’ll put in what I can think of now, and add to it later.

  • Why? It was a good way to see the world, to travel at my own pace, at a relatively low cost. It was a great way to experience people and places, seeing more than just the Lonely Planet-approved tourist sites.
  • Are you mad? I don’t think so. But then perhaps I’m not the best judge of that.
  • But wasn’t it hard? The body is an amazing thing, and it can adapt. At first it was tough, riding 100km was a very long day, and I’d sleep for 10 hours minimum, and eat a huge amount. But later on, 100km was just a normal sort of day, and I didn’t feel tired after doing it. I could ride for 100km, then just eat and sleep more or less normally.
  • Or had your perception of normality shifted? Highly likely.
  • Surely it was hard sometimes though? Yes, at times it was tough, struggling into a headwind, through thick traffic on rough roads, in 40°+, with water supplies looking a very long way away. But that’s only one part of it. The good times outweighed the bad by a long way.
  • Is it easy to get back into normal life? Ask yourself. It takes a while to get back into the swing of things. Life on the bike is so simple, the “real world” is more complicated.
  • Where did you sleep? Anywhere and everywhere. Hotels, backpackers, camping, sometimes in a tent, sometimes just under the stars. Under bridges, in ditches, abandoned buildings, forests, all sorts. Sometimes I’d go to a restaurant, eat dinner, then sleep on the table afterwards.
  • How did you cross the water? For some reason this is one that many, many people want to know. I got a ferry from Dover to Calais, a ferry across the Bosphorus in Istanbul, and then it was overland all the way to Singapore. I then caught a plane to Darwin, and another plane from Melbourne to Auckland.
  • How did you pay for it/How much did it cost? I haven’t worked out exactly how much it cost, but it wasn’t that much – probably a fair bit less than you spent on your last car (South Africans excluded). I worked as a contractor in the UK for a little while before leaving, and that was fairly lucrative. But it is a cheap way to live, especially in Asia.
  • Wasn’t it dangerous/where were the most dangerous places? Central Asia was probably the roughest area, and it wasn’t just me – many others I met had problems there. But overall, no, I never really felt it was dangerous. Perhaps just a slightly elevated risk compared to living a domestic life and dying of boredom I suppose
  • How far would you go in a day? It varied between 20km and 269km. But I would use 100km as my planning target, and it roughly worked out at that. Roughly 100km/day, 500km/week. It would depend on what was around – some days you might do 80km and find a nice place, other days you might need to do 140km to find a nice place.
  • Are you going to write a book?/You should write a book. Hmmm. I’ll think about it. But probably not.
  • How did you handle all that time on your own? Wasn’t it hard being by yourself for so long? Well, at times that can be difficult to deal with. You miss your family, friends, ex-girlfriends…but I am lucky in that I am comfortable with my own company. I had thought maybe I was a loner, but someone else pointed out that I enjoy being with other people, I just don’t feel I always have to be with them.
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J’Accuse!

Speedo in sleep mode

Just look at that speedo – a picture tells a thousand words. That speedo only goes to sleep mode if it doesn’t get used for two weeks – and it’s been a long time since I’ve done any serious riding on my tourer. No riding has also meant I haven’t felt like posting anything here, stretching the patience of you, dear reader.

For much has happened, and yet it is mostly of a domestic nature, and not exactly the sort the of thing that compares with riding across continents. I now have a permanent place to live (first time in over 18 months), a job, and the beginnings of a regular life. Perhaps it’s hard to understand if you have a regular life, but I’ve been struggling a bit with doing the routine thing. I’m not saying it’s bad, and one part of me is happy about knowing where I’ll be sleeping each night, but the feet do get itchy.

Perhaps it’s that I now have to fit into a routine that works around others. On the road, your needs are simple, and you can do whatever you please. Feel tired? Stop. Hungry? Eat. Had enough? Look for a place to camp, and stop. Raining? Stay in bed. Work of course means regular hours – it’s terribly inconvenient that way. Perhaps part of it is that I have friends in many different parts of the world now, and haven’t really established social networks here yet.

But I have made a commitment to staying in one place for at least 12 months, and so I shall. Being on the road is a good thing, and a place I want to be, but there are other times when you’re glad to be home, and close to your family. My father has recently been unwell, and it is times like these that you feel distance. Being only two hours drive down the road is a hell of a lot easier than being in the middle of China. Of course, one of the dirty little secrets of the world of the modern traveller is that you are never really more than 48 hours away from home, but that distance can still seem a very, very long way.

Over the last few months, I’ve met many people who’ve followed my trip, or heard about it from friends, and there are many questions. Some of them come up often, and I really do need to try and put them together in a summary post – I promise I’ll get onto it by the middle of next week.

There hasn’t been much touring riding going on over the last few months – it’s been mainly mountain biking, and not enough of it. Completely different style, on a light bike, throwing the bike around tight trails, getting covered in mud. Lots of fun, especially on the huge array of trails at Woodhill. I’m going to have to arrange some touring around New Zealand though – all the European cyclists seem to think it’s amazing here. Personally I think NZ drivers are too aggressive to make it a fully enjoyable experience, but I’ll give it a go over summer – it looks like the rain has finally stopped!