 
# Adventure Travel

**16 stories from a world traveller hoping to provide little**

inspiration for your next travel adventure.

by

Ian Usher

(Please Note: these stories are based on personal experience only, and do not constitute any form of advice. Please make your own decisions, and take responsibility for yourself. I take no responsibility for any travel "adventures" that may result from trying any similar activities.)

All material in this book is adapted from the book  
"A Life Sold" by Ian Usher  
or from the website  
www.100goals 100weeks.com

### Adventure Travel

Ian Usher

Copyright 2012 by Ian Usher

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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# Contents

Introduction

Bungee jump #1

Tomatina

High-diving

Oktoberfest

Hawk flying

Guns

Jet boat

Horse riding

Dog sledding

Captain Zodiac

Outback 4WD

Ayers Rock/Uluru

Kitesurfing

Cheese rolling

Wall of Death

Running with the bulls at Pamplona

A Life Sold

Submit your own travel stories for publication...?

More adventure travel books

Excerpt from "A Life Sold"

# Introduction

Hi there.

My name is Ian Usher

In June 2008 I put my life in Perth, Australia, up for sale on eBay! "What will you do after you sell your life?" was one of the commonly-asked questions in many of the interviews I did in the run-up to the auction.

My eventual answer was to create a list of all the things I had ever wanted to do, places I wanted to see, and experiences I wanted to enjoy.

Between August 2008 and July 2010 I travelled the world, with a list of 100 goals, and a self-imposed timeframe of 100 weeks in which to attempt to achieve them.

This collection of stories and events is adapted from the first half of that journey, and gives an account of some of the adventures found along the way. My hope is that these tales serve in some small way to provide a little inspiration for you, if you have things that you would like to get out there and see or do.

My best single piece of advice for those looking for adventure, and in need of inspiration? Take the first step. Book your flight, order a book to research you plans, or invite a friend to join you. Whatever it takes to get you started. Because once you take that first step, it is a little easier to take the next step, whatever that may be. The third step is a little easier again, and so on. Just make a start, no matter how small.

There is much more detail on my travels and adventures, as well as a more personal insight into the joys and challenges of travelling for an extended period, in my book, available in both paperback and digital format for the Kindle and other mobile devices.

More details and links here:-

"A Life Sold – What ever happened to that guy who sold his whole life on eBay?"

There are also some other links at the end of this book, including an invite to submit your own tales of travel and adventure for potential inclusion in future similar publications, as well as details of other adventure travel books available from Wider Vision Publishing.

In return for this (hopefully!!) interesting, inspiring and informative content, I would ask one small favour. When you have finished reading I would be extremely grateful if you could take just a minute to provide a short, honest review for it at whatever location you downloaded it from.

Your support is much appreciated.

Happy travels,

Ian

# Bungee jump #1

Second goal completed! Bungeeeee....

Monday, August 11, 2008

We got up pretty early yesterday and drove up into the mountains to the north west of Nice for about an hour and a half. The journey became more and more spectacular the higher we climbed. We passed through beautiful little French villages, and stopped at a boulangerie for fresh bread and croissants for breakfast.

We finally arrived at the Gorges de Verdon, and the view into the deep valley was pretty daunting. We rounded a corner, and there was the bridge, le Pont de l'Artuby. It is an incredible place, with a worryingly deep gorge below the bridge.

Crowds were already gathering, and jumping was in progress. My stomach felt a bit queasy. Melanie was looking decidedly pale.

We queued and booked in, and found that we would have to wait about an hour and a half. We drank coffee at the little cafe at the end of the bridge with trembling hands, and waited our turn. It was a long hour and a half!

Finally our turn came around, and I was called to gear up. I was feeling pretty good by then, but as I filmed the guy before me jump, my hand was shaking. Finally I climbed the steps and stood on the edge of the bridge, having told myself not to hesitate when they counted "Un, Deux, Trois..."

I had bought a glove and cut a hole in the palm, and can just manage to squeeze my camera in it, so can use it as a small hand held video.

Here is a link to the video of the jump as it happened:-

Bungee Jump Video link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZcRmhtuyzPA

It was an incredible experience. In many ways it was a bit like a parachute jump, the sudden, smooth acceleration, and the increasing wind-noise as speed picks up, but visually very different. In a parachute jump you never see the ground that close, coming up to meet you so quickly - if you did, something would have gone horribly wrong!

By the time I returned to the bridge, Melanie was ready to go, and climbed up and jumped without hesitation too. Fantastic - well done!

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#  Tomatina

Fifth goal completed! Tomatina!

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Yesterday I bought a couple of items that would be invaluable for today. The white t-shirt was a bargain at 2 Euros, and the waterproof camera would be a very useful.

We set off in good time for Bunol, about thirty kilometres from Valencia, and found a place to park the car, even though there were many more arriving all the time. Graham and Maria were my companions on this goal, and we walked down towards the centre of the town with the growing crowds.

The atmosphere was very festive, and there was an excitement in the air. The closer we got to the centre of town, the denser the crowds became, and we continued to worm our way through towards the centre square. It was packed there, and the crowd was surging back and forth, and there was still almost an hour to go before the official start at 11am.

The town centre was alot more closed-in than I had imagined, and the narrow streets were packed full - it was almost impossible to move anywhere, and in the surges I lost Graham and Maria. I eventually made my way to the square just off the street, and a couple of steps up I found a bit of space, and eventually managed to bag a great vantage point on a wall.

The atmosphere was electric, the crowd singing and chanting, TV cameras on many of the rooftops, and a helicopter circling around. From my vantage point I eventually spotted Graham and Maria, who weren't far away, and kept an eye on where they were in the surges as the excitement mounted.

At 11am there was a big bang to start the celebrations, and tomatoes started to rain down from people on the rooftops and balconies.

Before long a huge tomato-filled lorry made it's way along the packed street, and people aboard it threw tomatoes in every direction. The crowd went wild, and watching the lorry drive through the packed street where a minute before it was impossible to move, I wondered how nobody would be run over.

The lorry was the first of six to pass through the centre, and each one caused an increase in the tomato throwing frenzy. When the fourth lorry tipped up and emptied tons of tomato semi-puree into the streets the scene took on incredible new proportions, the air being filled with tomato juice and semi-pulped tomatoes. It was amazing and hilarious to see.

The wall was not the best place to stand, as I felt I stuck out a bit as a target, and when the Irish guy in front of me, who was acting as a great shield, gave up and jumped into the crowd, I soon gave up and followed suit, re-joining Graham and Maria.

Eventually we made our way right into the centre of the melee, and found ourselves wading ankle-deep in tomato juice. It was incredibly packed, and as the crowd moved towards the edge of town it was impossible not to be swept along with everyone else. At times it was possible to simply lift up your feet and be carried along.

There was another big bang, and the hour-long food fight was over, but that did not seem to slow anyone down one bit. Eventually we got to a less packed area as the crowd thinned out, and happily made our way back up the hill out of the town.

What an amazing experience! It is well worth going, but one word of advice I would give - take some cheap, but sturdy shoes, and be prepared to lose them. Flip-flops are not the best footwear, and I eventually ended up barefoot, it seemed much safer, although my toes are pretty bruised!

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# High-diving

Goal Number 7 causes a bit of a splash!

Sunday, September 14, 2008

I am back here in Darlington to put right something that I did not dare do as a youngster. I was hoping to dive of the top board at Bishop Auckland swimming pool, but that is out of the question, as there are no longer any diving boards at the swimming pool there – Health and Safety gone mad, I imagine!

So this morning, after a false start on Friday afternoon (my friend couldn't make it!) I did the next best thing, by going down to the Dolphin Centre, which has a similar set of boards as Bishop Auckland used to have, including the all-important 5m board. Health & Safety hasn't got around to visiting Darlington yet!

I did a practice dive off the 3m board and then went straight up to the top board. I was hoping that it would now look alot smaller to me as an adult, and I was planning to march confidently to the end and dive in without hesitation.

But oh dear, it looked just as big and daunting as it did in my childhood days, and there was an element of dithering around on the edge as I plucked up courage. It really was like being a scared child again.

Eventually I launched myself off, and the dive sort of went okay. My top half entered the water okay, but my thighs slapped the water a bit. I think lack of confidence had caused me not to dive at a steep enough angle.

There must have been a bit of a splash, because as I climbed out, the lifeguard asked, "Are you okay mate?"

"Yes thanks," I wheezed. I had only hoped to have to do this once, but I was not happy with my performance, and told my friend Notty that I was going to have to try again to do it properly.

The second time I managed a much more graceful dive. I dived off confidently with no hesitation, and I felt that I entered the water pretty cleanly.

I felt very proud, and very relieved too. Did I go for another try? No way, one successful dive was enough. I had finally done it, and that was enough for me.

Within ten minutes we were across the road in the Boot and Shoe with a pint each. Early Sunday, not even ten thirty in the morning, and the pubs are already busy - good old Darlo!

Goal Number 7 completed! Thanks for your help and encouragement Notty.

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# Oktoberfest

Goal number 8 - Prost!

Thursday, October 2, 2008

"Prost" is German for "Cheers", and I have said it more than a few times today, as I achieved Goal Number 8, by attending the Oktoberfest in Munich.

I arrived in Munich shortly after lunchtime, and soon found my way to my hotel, which was only a couple of minutes walk from the station. I was a bit too early to check-in, but could wait in the lobby, where I checked my email, and waited to meet Christophe, from the German magazine eBay! and his photographer, Marcus.

When they arrived we talked for a while, and eventually I managed to check-in and left my bags in my room, (which seemed reasonably cheap when booked on the internet, but turned out to be somewhere in the bowels of the hotel near the carpark!)

We set off for the Oktoberfest, and it was good to have a couple of local guides, although I did take note of the route we took, as I suspected I may be coming back on my own, and perhaps a bit less sober!

They took pictures, lots of them, for their magazine article, and eventually Christophe had to leave. Marcus and I wandered about a bit more, and had a beer - after all, that's what this goal is all about - and eventually he had to go too.

I wandered around a bit more, had a few more beers, and met quite a few very friendly, very pissed, people from all over Europe. I visited quite a few of the beer tents, but they were nothing like I had imagined. I thought they would be pretty basic, perhaps with a bar at one end, and a few tables. They were HUGE! Each tent was immaculately presented, with a well organised system of tables and reservations. In fact, it was pretty difficult to find anywhere to sit, and if you weren't sat, it was pretty difficult to order a beer!

However, once I got to grips with the system I was quite at home, and enjoyed myself to the full.

I came out of one beer tent, after chatting to several German guys for a while, and discovered that it had started to rain, and weaved my way back to my basement room, after stopping for a quick bite to eat.

Goal number 8 completed in fine style, and I still have several more days here yet!

More beer!

Saturday, October 4, 2008

On Friday morning I had still not resolved my accommodation issues for Friday night, but the hotel I was staying at said that the broom cupboard room in the cellars was available again, and although a little expensive, I decided I would stay there, as I was meeting a few people throughout the day, and the next morning too, and staying would make all that much easier.

I met up with James, a friend from Australia, at the hotel, and we set out in the rain to see some of Munich. We didn't get too far before the rain forced us indoors, and we had our first beer of the day. We moved on to another beer hall for lunch, and afterwards took a stroll around the city, as the rain had eased off.

I wished I had a bit more time here, as there are a few places I would like to visit nearby. There is a guided tour which goes to Dachau, a WWII Nazi Concentration Camp, which James said had been a fascinating but sobering place.

James had to leave towards the end of the afternoon, as he was continuing his travels, and I headed back to my hotel to meet up with Dawn and Diane, who were visiting Munich from Chicago. We headed of to Oktoberfest at about 7pm, but the place was packed. I think it was a national holiday, so everyone was off work, and by the time we got there, all the beer tents were full, doors closed, and only people with reservations could get in.

We eventually found an outdoor beer garden area, and sat next to a group of English guys on their fifth annual visit to Oktoberfest. They were obviously old hands at this sort of thing, and worked their way through the huge beers at a fair pace. It was a brilliant evening, and I went home much later than I had planned to, much drunker than I planned to, with my face aching from laughing for most of the evening.

Oktoberfest! Brilliant!

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# Hawk flying

Goal 13 comes swooping in.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

I was a bit worried about finding the location for trying to achieve my next goal, as I hadn't heard from Aaron, my hawk-flying contact. He had emailed me a few months ago and told me of a hawk-flying event he would be attending on 1st November in Wagoner, Oklahoma, just off Route 66. So after a few emails back and forth, I arranged to set off on my Route 66 journey in time to reach Wagoner for the event, and last night made it to town.

But in the days leading up to today, I hadn't heard from Aaron, and I only had an email address, no other contact details at all. So when I woke this morning I searched through the emails from Aaron for a clue as to when and where to look in Wagoner.

After a bit of rudimentary detective work I found the right place, and introduced myself to the first guy I found with a hawk on his hand. It turned out that Michael had been expecting me, and he introduced me to Sifin, his Krider's Red- Tailed Hawk, an beautiful bird. Before long he had a glove on my hand, and Sifin was sat there quite happily.

I met a couple of other members of the group, and was introduced to Bob, the leader of the day's activities. We chatted for a while, and he asked what my goal was specifically, which was to have a hawk fly to my hand, land on it and eat something.

"Okay, let's make that happen now," he said, and set me up about 30 metres away with a glove with some meat on it. His majestic female Harris Hawk, Valkyrie, flew from his hand, and swooped low to the ground towards me, rising up at the last second to land on my hand and eat the meat. What an incredible sight to see such a large bird coming straight towards you.

After that we headed out into the bush to go hunting with Valkyrie. This involves the hawk flying along on it's own above a group of people beating the undergrowth with sticks to try to flush out any rabbits or other small game hiding in there.

It was wonderful to watch the hawk and handler work together as a team, with the hawk sometimes following just behind the beaters, or sometimes flying ahead to sit high on a branch and watch the ground in front of the line of beaters as we approached.

Valkyrie did not catch anything on that run through as we did not find any game, but later in the morning CB's young Passage Red-Tailed Hawk, possibly called Heather, but name not quite decided on yet, caught a small snake and a rabbit.

What an amazing experience, and what a privilege to be able to go along and take part. Thanks to all who helped out and made me feel so welcome, particularly Bob, Michael, James, Aaron (in his absence), the guys with cameras whose pix I have used (see below), and everyone else who made this such a memorable experience.

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# Guns

Guntastic!

Friday, November 7, 2008

Well, well, how quickly plans can change! I had had lunch with Lorraine in Oklahoma and was about to head out of the city, and on the way back to the RV I passed a coffee shop with a big sign offering free WiFi access \- a quick coffee before departure would be nice, and I could quickly check my email too.

Among the new items in my Inbox was an email from Russ who lives in the northern suburbs of Oklahoma City. He had been following my progress, and had just taken a look at my site and seen that I was in Oklahoma. He had read my previous blogs with interest, particularly noticing my fascination with the amazing US gun laws and gun culture. I had been unable to go shooting with Josh, my tattoo-artist friend in Indiana due to time constraints, but had managed to shoot both a pump-action shotgun and .22 rifle with Sue and Nancy on the farm.

Russ suggested that if I had not yet left Oklahoma, he had a couple of pistols and a semi-automatic assault rifle that I would be welcome to shoot if I wished. Absolutely!! A quick couple of phone calls later new plans were in place, and the next morning we headed out to the shooting range.

There we met a couple of guys who were setting up for a competition that was taking place that morning, and after a quick chat I was offered the chance to fire some sort of Russian .22 target rifle with a huge telescopic sight. The gun was set up on padded stands, with a handle to adjust the aim, so the rifle could be fired without holding it at all, and therefore there is no movement of the gun at all as the shot is taken. I fired two shots, the second bullet going straight through the hole made by the first - amazingly accurate.

Russ and I moved on to the pistol range, and the first gun he produced was a .45 Springfield Automatic pistol, or 1911 A1 45 Automatic, along with a shoulder-holster and extra magazines of ammo. He gave me a quick safety run-through, fired a few shots, and gave me the gun to try. The first two shots both knocked one of the metal targets down, and I was very pleased. However, it was just beginners luck, and after reloading, I had some frustrations! He had brought enough ammo to start a war, and I happily blasted away at the targets and reloaded, while Russ got the next gun out.

I looked on wide-eyed as he fired the Magnum .44 - "the most powerful handgun in the world", according to Clint Eastwood in the Dirty Harry movies. The thing was huge, and seemed to have quite a kick! When I fired it, the kick wasn't as bad as I expected. After a bit of practice with it, I found that I was hitting the targets pretty regularly, and even managed to get all six targets with six bullets on one reload. It was alot more accurate than the .45, because of the longer barrel.

Eventually we moved onto the rifle range, and Russ got out his AR-15, a .223 calibre assault rifle, which is the semi-automatic version of the M-16. It had a telescopic sight with a red-dot inside that was pretty accurate. The magazine held 30 rounds, and it would fire pretty much as quick as you could pull the trigger.

While we reloaded the magazines we chatted a bit, and I found that we had incredibly similar backgrounds, particularly in regard to what brought me to the point of putting my life up for sale on eBay, and then setting off on my 100 goals voyage.

We fired some more, and then headed off for a late breakfast, before it really was time to get on the road towards Texas. In his original email to me Russ claimed not to be a "gun nut", explaining that his brother had way more guns than he did, but he could have had a starring role in a small war with the contents of his trunk.

Guns Video #1 link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lvw1F52Lqmo

What an amazing experience, and quite a thrill, to be able to fire such stuff. Huge thanks to Russ for the opportunity to do so.

Only in Las Vegas!

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Well, another interesting day here in the land of make-believe!

I have sort of become intrigued and slightly horrified by the US gun laws, but also have developed a sort of fatal attraction to the subtle lure of these amazing weapons! So when I came across an advert suggesting that a visit to a Vegas downtown store would enable the firing of a variety of fully automatic machineguns, I couldn't resist. Oh dear!

So this afternoon I met up with Myles and Simon, and we went along to the appropriately named Gun Store, where I picked a package of three weapons to fire. "Good choice," said the guy behind the counter, but I had the feeling he might have said that whatever weapons I had chosen - the prices were not cheap!

My three guns were an AK47 with 25 rounds, a 12-guage shotgun with 5 rounds, and an HK MP5 machinegun with 50 rounds - "The Gun Store Choice Package"!!

Guns Video #2 link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9d-lzJgW-ZE

All were amazing to fire, but my favourite was the MP5. The instructor showed me the correct stance, which felt a bit weird at first, but meant that the gun did not rake upwards or to the right when firing longer bursts. He explained why, and it all made good sense.

Oh dear! I'm getting a bit hooked on this!

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# Jet boat

Awesome jet boat ride.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

After a later start than planned, I headed across the Golden Gate Bridge once again on Monday morning, and began the long drive northwards. The further I went the more beautiful the route became as I entered the northern part of California.

I detoured through the Avenue of the Giants, and was awed by the size of the huge redwood trees, but couldn't linger long, as I had quite a few more miles to go yet. Another quick stop at the roadside for a photo of the sunset over the ocean, and onwards up the twisting coast road in the gathering darkness.

Eventually I arrived at the Lucky 7 casino at the Oregon border, where I had arranged to meet Debbie, and her partner Jeff. Debbie and I have been in contact for a while on the internet, and she had suggested that I should call in at the beautiful Gold Beach area of the Oregon coast, where I could possibly achieve a couple of goals.

Prior to my arrival Debbie had been very busy, and had arranged a busy schedule for me. After a fantastic beer and pizza dinner we went to look at the local park Christmas lights, which was pretty spectacular for a small town, and was then taken to my accommodation for the evening, Ghost Cottage.

There I met Kelli and Riley, the owners of the haunted cottage, and we all took a walk through the dark woodlands outside. For my first evening there I was not alone in the house, and I went to bed downstairs in the comfortable guestroom.

I was pretty shattered after my long drive, and slept soundly that night. I woke a couple of times in the night, and listened for any noises, but soon fell asleep again. I woke feeling very refreshed, but slightly disappointed that I had not experienced anything. At breakfast Kelli assured me that I would meet the other "residents" that night when I was alone in the house!

The next activity that Debbie had arranged for me was a jet boat ride up Rogue River. Ryan, a friend of a friend of Debbie's, picked me up from Ghost Cottage at nine, and after fuelling the boat up we drove upriver to Lobster Creek where we launched the boat. We wrapped up well, put in earplugs, and once the engine warmed up we headed upstream. The boat was very fast, and skipped across the surface of the water. As we approached the first small rapids I thought Ryan might have to slow down, but he just gunned it through and we continued onwards at high speed.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful, and twelve miles further upriver we entered an area listed by the government as "wild and scenic". What better way to enjoy wild and scenic beauty than powering through it in a highly tuned racing machine?

We raced onwards, the view becoming ever more spectacular as the river narrowed, and twisted and turned, and we blasted up through more rapids. It was very cold, with the temperature just above freezing, and with the added wind-chill factor of travelling at about 60 miles per hour, I think my head was as cold as it has ever been. But I had a huge smile on my face the whole time.

About 40 miles upriver we stopped at Paradise Lodge, an isolated resort which can only be reached by either boat or helicopter. It was a lovely place, closed now for winter, but offering what I imagine would be wonderful summer accommodation. We chatted to the owner, warmed ourselves inside briefly, then headed back downriver.

Halfway down Ryan pulled over and said, "Your turn," and we swapped seats. What a machine! It was fantastically responsive as I pressed the throttle and we powered through the calm flat sections and bounced through the rapids. What a thrill!

Jet Boat Video link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eS9L_K25cHI

It all came to a sudden halt though three miles from the end of the journey, when we ran out of petrol, and had to wait for the local fishing guide to tow us to shore! All part of the adventure. It was nice sat in the sun warming up again, enjoying the peace of this beautiful area. What a brilliant experience all round.

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# Horse riding

Goal 22 is tamed - horse riding at sunset.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

As soon as we arrived in town Debbie came to meet us, and whisked me away for the next activity, which was actually on my list of goals.

I have tried horse riding a few times, and am happy to admit being a bit nervous of them. They are just so big and powerful, and it seems to me that if they get the idea into their head that they want to do something, what can you do to stop them? I had a bit of a nerve-wracking experience on a horse on holiday in Tunisia once, when it bolted, scared by a motorbike, but managed to live to tell the tale!

My goal then has been to have the confidence and ability to gallop a horse along a deserted beach at sunset. Ideally this would be a romantic ride with a perfect companion, but this part of the picture I had mentally painted for myself was not a necessity for the completion of the goal. My companion on the ride was to be Paul, and I romance would not be a part of the ride!

So we met up with Paul, who seemed very blasé about galloping on a horse. "Just tell it to go, and you'll be fine," he said. I wasn't convinced, but he wasn't advocating weeks of lessons, as most places I have mentioned this goal to seem to do. It was almost sunset, and there was a beautiful beach just across the road. This was my chance!

We walked the horses down to the beach, and got there just before sunset. It was beautiful. My horse, a girl called Booty seemed very steady and relaxed, and when Paul spurred his horse on Booty followed suit with a word of encouragement, and before I knew it we were galloping! I'm sure I didn't look very stylish, but I felt pretty comfortable, and after a quick few words of advice from Paul we were off again.

We tried swapping horses, and I climbed aboard Bo, a Formula 1 of the horse world who was now warmed up and ready to go! And go he tried to do, until the saddle slipped a bit, and I found myself on my backside on the beach! I wasn't hurt, but there will be a bruise! I got back on Bo briefly, but I think he knew I was nervous now, and I soon elected to swap back.

We galloped again, and headed back for the stables as the sky turned a brilliant orange behind us. A perfect way to achieve another goal, with thanks to Debbie for arranging it, and Paul for making it happen so smoothly.

Afterwards we all went to a local restaurant for dinner, meeting Jeff, Kelli and Riley there too, and the freshly-caught local crab was delicious. Later we headed back to Ghost Cottage, and Kelli and the others left me on my own there for the night. But that's another story...

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# Dog sledding

Goal 25 - VERY cold!!

Sunday, December 28, 2008

The flight from Vancouver to Whitehorse was only slightly delayed, as our plane had to join the queue to be de-iced, something I have not experienced before. When we finally descended through the clouds the landscape looked white and bleak, and due to another late arrival at Whitehorse, we were unable to de-plane via the airbridge, and had to walk across the tarmac. The temperature was -25 deg C, but I was surprised that it did not feel too bad.

I was met by Moe, who has long been encouraging me to come and visit to go dog-sledding, and after a quick drive around town we headed out to her home and kennels. She lives in a cabin way out in the woods that she built over the winter of 2005.

Life up here is quite different to anything I have ever experienced before. The cabin does not have running water, and on the way there we had to stop at the local community hall to fill several large containers. There is no electricity supply, and power is supplied by batteries, which have to be regularly recharged by a small generator.

Daylight lasts about six hours, from around 9.30am to 3.30pm, so head torches are worn pretty much most of the rest of the time. And the bathroom, which is merely a pit-toilet is in a small outhouse with the walls covered in frost!

Showers are at the local recreation centre about 50km away! And all heating is provided by a log-burning stove!

By the time we got to the cabin it was already dark, and we went out to feed the dogs. Later on we played air hockey with Neighbour Kim, and it all got very competitive.

The next morning we fed the dogs again, and Moe picked the ten that would be our team for the day, and they were bundled into the dog box on top of the van, along with a huge amount of gear, and we were off into the wilderness.

Moe had geared me up with a big coat and waterproof trousers, and we a quick stop at a neighbour's kennel, on the edge of an amazingly beautiful, frozen lake, to collect some snowboots for me. We drove on and parked on the side of a snow-covered road that appeared to be in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and got the sled off the roof, and started gearing the dogs up.

Putting the harnesses on was fun, and the dogs seemed very well trained, and quite happy to have a fumbling stranger attempt to prepare them. Moe had eight dogs harnessed by the time I had managed to gear up the other two.

We clipped them onto the gang line, which is attached to the sled, and the dogs seemed very excited, howling and barking, and pulling at the rope. I sat inside the sled, and Moe removed the anchor from the snow, and silence descended, as all the noise from the dogs stopped as they pulled as one, and we were off.

We gilded along, the only sound being the runners of the sled rails on the snow, and the rattle of snow on the sled cover kicked back from the dogs' feet. We travelled quickly at first, but the dogs soon settled, and steadied to a more even pace, and I sat happily watching the snow-covered world glide by.

About twelve miles down the track we veered off the road into the trees and then into a clearing to turn the team around, and after a few dramas getting back on the track, which involved us both rolling around in the snow as the sled went over, we were heading back. Once sorted out, Moe pulled the dogs up, and we swapped places, and I stood on the small footpads on the rails, and felt like a real musher.

I didn't have much to do really, as the dogs knew where they were going. My main role was to slow the sled a bit on the downhill sections, so the dogs didn't have to go too fast, but couldn't help giving them a shout off "Mush, mush!" on a flat section, which did spur them on a bit.

Dogsled Video link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttDhAzpL-sM

The whole experience was incredible, the surroundings beautiful, and I was so pleased to be able to try out something so different to anything I have tried before. Huge thanks to Moe for making this a reality.

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# Captain Zodiac

A day out with Captain Zodiac.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

I really wasn't sure what to expect from the Captain Zodiac trip in Hawaii, as I had only had a very quick look at the website to find out where they were. This was another adventure that had been organised by Becky at the Big Island Visitors Bureau.

So I was up early again this morning and headed for the harbour just north of Kona. The sun was just rising as I headed up the coast in the open-topped Jeep, and the radio station that I had found was playing reggae music, and I had a big grin on my face. This place is beautiful, and is growing on me very quickly.

Bill and Linda, owners and operators of Captain Zodiac, had very kindly offered me a position on the morning trip, and along with the other guests, I headed down to the Zodiac, which is a rigid-hulled boat, with inflated side tubes. It had twin 150 HP outboards, and looked like it would be pretty fast.

We were all introduced to our captain for the day, Colin, and his first mate Kyle, who soon made us at home, got us all settled, and we were off.

Once out of the harbour we entered the ocean swell, which was still pretty big, although had died down a bit from previous couple of days. The big seas had kept Captain Zodiac ashore yesterday and had been the reason for the manta ray dive being cancelled the evening before.

Within five minutes of leaving the harbour, Colin spotted whales spouting, and we headed over to take a look at what turned out to be a mother and calf pair of humpback whales. We couldn't get too close, and they didn't stay on the surface too long, so we pushed on. Conditions were choppy, and the speed of the boat made for an exhilarating ride.

Eventually we pulled into a sheltered bay, called Kealakekua Bay which is where Captain Cook met his untimely demise. There we saw several dolphins, before getting in for a snorkel over the colourful coral reef.

On the return journey we followed the coastline, and stopped to watch the waves pounding against the shore, and shooting high into the air. It was quite fantastic to get in close to such incredible power. A phrase that Moe had used to describe where she lived up Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory came to mind - raw and powerful. Although it now seems like it was a long time ago, it was only a couple of weeks back that I was up there to go dog-sledding, and the temperature was right at the opposite end of the scale! It's nice to be back in shorts and a t-shirt!

Just before we headed back in we saw another couple of humpbacks rolling around on the surface, and stopped to watch for a while. I tried to take a couple of photos, but they were a bit too far away, but to see them was fantastic.

Once again, thanks to all who helped make this possible, including all the wonderful staff and crew at Captain Zodiac.

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# Outback 4WD

Goal 37 - outback adventure.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Back in 2000, after my first couple of extended travel trips to Australia, I was still living and working in the UK, and was seriously considering the possibility of moving down under to live. I had a map of Australia on the wall with the two previous trips highlighted on it.

One evening I was discussing travels with my friend Richard who had been to Australia many times, and had lived and worked in Perth for some time. "If you have liked what you have seen so far, you will love Perth, you should try there first," he advised.

We continued to study the map, and he pointed out some nice places to visit to the south of Perth. We spotted a small place on the map, to the east of Esperance, quite remote and alone at the end of a long road along the southern coast. "I never went there," he said. "That's a long way from anywhere."

"I might go one day and see what's there," I said. And seven years later, when it came to writing out my list of 100 goals, I decided that I still wanted to go and see what was there. I had no idea. So with a few days to spare this week, I decided it was time to go and find out.

My initial plan was to borrow my friend Chris's camper van and spend a couple of days to drive down to Esperance, and then along the coast from there, but on Sunday evening Mel pointed out to me that the map showed the track to Israelite Bay as suitable for four-wheel drive vehicles only! Oh dear, it looked like a bit more planning than I had originally anticipated would be in order.

I had to set off on Monday if I was going to go, and I was still a little undecided, as I needed to be back in Perth for Thursday evening, and it might be a bit of a rush. But I rang a couple of vehicle hire places in Esperance to see if I could rent a 4WD for the trip to Israelite Bay. The first couple of responses were discouraging, to say the least. "We wouldn't rent anything to go out there, it's pretty rugged going!" Hmmm.

Finally I found a place that would rent me an older Toyota Land Cruiser for the journey, and rang my friend Andrew to see if he would be interested in accompanying me on the journey. Despite the short notice he decided he would like to come along, and we abandoned the camper van idea, choosing to go in his car instead, taking a couple of tents with us.

We drove for about four hours on the Monday afternoon, and camped overnight in a bush rest stop, and headed on in the morning towards Esperance, taking a detour on the way to see the very picturesque Hopetoun on the south coast.

In Esperance we got ourselves organised for the 4WD trip the next day, and went fishing from the jetty, with a reasonable amount of success, catching our supper of squid, herring and yellowtail. There are a couple of friendly sealions that live under the jetty, and Andrew bravely hand-fed a fish to one of them. When he did so without getting bitten, I thought I would have a go too. I am not sure who was the most nervous, but the sealion got another fresh snack, and then just stared at me, hoping I might have more.

We spent another night at a bush camp near the town, and in the morning went to pick up our 4WD vehicle. There had been some sort of a mix-up, and the Toyota was nowhere to be seen, and instead we were given an immaculate new Nissan Patrol, with dire warnings about how we should treat it. I was a bit disappointed, as I would have much preferred an older vehicle that we did not have to worry about too much.

We drove eastwards out of Esperance, and travelled about 100km on a good sealed road, followed by another good gravel track for a further 50km. We were making great time. but then the road ended, and a tiny sandy track lead off into the bush. We were still over 50km from our destination, and the going was about to get a bit rougher.

Within the first kilometre we were getting bogged in deep sand, but once we put the Nissan into four wheel drive and locked the front hubs, we had no further issues. At one point we got a bit over-confident, and I got us bogged in a deep muddy hole, but we soon managed to reverse out of trouble.

It took us just over two hours to complete the last 50km, and it was great fun. At Israelite Bay we had a look around the ruins of an old telegraph station there, and drove to the beach where we had lunch. Goal achieved!

We only had the Nissan for the day, as it was hideously expensive to hire, and we soon had to set off back, as it was going to take another three hours for the return journey.

We also had a bit of a detour planned on the way back. "Don't take it on the beach!" the hire company rep told us! Riiiiiight....

After a much needed visit to the car wash, which included picking out some seaweed from under the chassis, we dropped the Nissan off, and put in a couple of hours in the car in the direction of home. The next morning we continued northwards, taking a slightly different route back, stopping off at Hyden to visit the very impressive Wave Rock, another West Australian attraction I have always wanted to see.

We finally arrived back in Perth late Thursday afternoon, and the first order of business when I got back was a shower, much needed after four days in the bush!

The whole trip was alot more challenging than I had ever expected it to be, and I learned quite a few lessons from the journey. Firstly, a bit more research is always a valuable thing, as if I had simply set off, assuming that all was going to be easy, then I imagine at best I would have turned back defeated, at worst my friend's camper van would be completely bogged in deep sand miles from anywhere!

Secondly though, I thought alot about other people's attitudes and advice, and decided that it is often wise just to ignore them. Quite a few times, when we told people where we were going, and what we planned to do, we got responses such as, "That's a long way to go in one day!" or "It's pretty rugged out there!" or "Why go all the way out there, there's nothing to see!"

Ignoring all this, we set off regardless, and had an incredible day out there, and for me, the goal was a much greater adventure, and much greater achievement than I ever expected it to be.

Many thanks to Andrew for his company and assistance on a fantastic few days!

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# Ayers Rock/Uluru

Goal 39 - rock of ages.

Friday, March 27, 2009

I have called Australia home for over seven years now, and have travelled around here quite a bit. I have seen alot of the country, but am also aware that there is alot more that I haven't yet seen.

Australia is made up of six states and two major mainland territories, namely Queensland, New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia, Western Australia, Tasmania, Australian Capital Territory, and Northern Territory.

The only one of these that I haven't set foot in at all is Northern Territory, and there is alot to see there!

There are also a few other lesser territories that are under the administration of the federal government, more details at Wikipedia.

Australia has a couple of well known icons, the two most familiar being, I imagine, the Sydney Opera House, and Ayers Rock, or Uluru as it tends to be known as now, having been officially given the dual name of "Ayers Rock/Uluru" in 1993. This was changed to "Uluru/Ayers Rock" in November 2002 following a request from the Regional Tourism Association in Alice Springs.

So when I discovered that friends Pam and Ces were heading up from Adelaide to Uluru then beyond to the west, it seemed like an ideal time to go and see the iconic rock.

I flew from Perth direct to Ayers Rock airport, and had booked a spot at the Ayers Rock Resort campground. I was lucky enough to get a window seat at the front of the plane, and had a great view of the rock as we came in to land.

Pam and Ces picked me up at the airport, and once set up at the campground we headed out into the sand dunes and I got a closer look at the rock than I had from the plane. Even at a distance of around 10 kilometres it is impressively large.

Later we went to see the rock as the sun set behind us, which was very atmospheric.

The next morning Ces and I were up early and drove into the national park itself to see sunrise. We joined busloads of other sightseers at the sunrise viewing area, and as it got lighter, I started to get an impression of just how incredibly big the rock is when viewed close-up.

I have wondered for quite a while about whether I should climb the rock or not, as the traditional Aboriginal owners ask people not to, as it is a sacred site. Many people now choose not to climb, but quite alot still do, and eventually I decided that I would try to do the climb. Although I would wish to respect tradition, I still feel that everyone should have the freedom to enjoy nature as they choose, as long as it is in a non-destructive way.

However, it turned out that I had no choice in the matter, as it was too windy on th rock, and the climb was closed.

That afternoon we walked around the base of the rock, which is a fantastic 10 kilometre walk, offering some stunning views of this incredibly atmospheric and beautiful place.

Uluru dawn - Kata Tjuta sunset.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

The park pass for the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park is only valid for three days, and I had got up at 5.30 in the morning and driven into the park three mornings in a row in an attempt to be able to climb Uluru. And for three mornings the climb had been closed due to strong winds at the summit.

So yesterday morning, armed with a couple of extra passes that had been kindly left behind at the campground kitchen by a departing camper, Pam and I headed into the park again. Before dawn it was just as windy as on the previous mornings, but incredibly the gate was open, and the "Closed" sign was nowhere to be seen.

Determined to be well up the rock long before the ranger returned and had a re-think, I quickly applied some sunscreen, grabbed my water bottle, and set off hot on the heels of three Japanese girls.

Halfway up the first section of the steepest part of the climb I passed the Japanese girls, and was now at the head of a growing straggle of climbers slowly ascending. I pushed on in the growing dawn, keen to be the first to the summit. The climb was steep and tough going at first, but levelled halfway up into a much gentler gradient.

Not long after I got started the ranger appeared at the foot of the climb, and it was closed again, and no new starters were allowed, Pam told me later.

Most of the final part of the climb was still in the shade, and the wind was quite strong, but easily manageable, and I finally climbed into the sun and reached the summit marker, and admired the vast sweeping view.

I had about ten minutes alone at the summit before the next climbers arrived, and took a few pictures while nobody else was in sight, and then just sat and soaked up the stunning vista. I was incredibly pleased to be able to do the climb, and glad that my persistence had paid off in the end.

I still wonder slightly about the rights and wrongs of climbing the rock when the traditional owners request that people do not do so, but I think for me I made the right decision - it was a wonderful experience.

By the time I climbed back down and returned to the carpark there were several buses and alot of cars, and many disappointed people who would not be climbing today

After another relaxing day by the pool we wandered up to one of the lookouts to watch the sun set over the domes of Kata Tjuta in the distance. Absolutely magnificent!

Today I fly back to Perth again, but have had a wonderful time here at Uluru. It really is well worth coming to see. Huge thanks to Pam and Ces for being my Uluru buddies, and for lending me their 4WD every morning to go and see if the climb was open.

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# Kitesurfing

Blowing in the wind - gusty goal 41 completed.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Perth has a long sandy coastline, and in summer has a regular afternoon onshore wind, making it an ideal kite boarding location. A drive up the coast on any summer afternoon will show how popular the sport has become, as kites regularly fill the sky over many of the beaches.

I have watched these people on several occasions, and been impressed with both the speed that they can travel, and the height they can jump from the waves, and have often thought, "I would like to be able to do that... it doesn't look too hard!"

I remember one trip up the coast to Lancellin, about an hour and a half north from the city, when my brother was visiting from the UK. We sat on the beach analysing what the kite boarders were doing, and both being reasonably competent on a snowboard or a wakeboard, reckoned we had it figured out!

When I made my list of 100 goals, I decided it was time to learn the sport, and on my return to Perth I booked some introductory lessons with Kite Boarding Perth, who are based at Mullaloo Beach in the northern suburbs of Perth.

My instructor Tony took me through the basics of kite care and safety, and showed me how to set up the kite on the beach, and how to pack it away again. We then moved on to launching the kite and controlling it in the air. I had done quite a bit of practice with my trainer kite, so managed fairly well with the bigger kite.

Midway through the second lesson I was just about to get into the water to practice using the power of the kite to drag along through the water (it is much safer to do than on the land), when the wind dropped off, and we had to call the lesson off.

The next few days were not very windy, and then I set off on my Uluru trip, so it was a while before I got back to the beach, but on Wednesday the winds picked up again, and my final two lessons were scheduled for the next two afternoons.

I practiced dragging through the water, and re-launching the kite when it landed on the water, and the powerstroke which pulls you up out of the water onto the board. In the final lesson was ready to add the board into the equation.

On my first couple of attempts I floundered around in the water trying to control the kite with one hand, the board with the other, all the while being dragged slowly through the waves. It was very frustrating! But on my third try I got everything into the right position, my feet on the board, manoeuvred the kite into the powerstroke, and before I knew it, I was up on the board, and riding across the waves. "Yeay! Now we're kiteboarding!" I heard Tony exclaim in the helmet radio I was wearing.

It only lasted a few seconds, as in my excitement I forgot to keep the kite in the right place, and lost power, and as my board lifted off a wave, I ended up back in the water.

I had a few more tries, with mixed success before the lesson ended, and I made my way to the beach completely exhausted, but very happy.

Tony was happy to issue me with my International Kiteboarding Organisation card, level 2i, which means I am now considered to know the safety requirements and the basics of the sport.

It is certainly a sport I wish to progress with, but at the moment it is possibly not the right time to do so, as the summer is coming to an end here, and I am hopefully heading off on my next travel adventure soon. If I bought some gear now it would just sit in storage for the next 8 months, so for now I will have to put this hobby on the back-burner. I hope I might get some chances to practice my new-found "skills" while travelling.

I appreciate that my skills are at a very low level at the moment, and there is no way I could call myself a competent kiteboarder, but Tony said that I now have all the knowledge I need to progress. "It's all just practice now," he told me.

Thanks very much to Tony, an excellent and very patient instructor. Great fun.

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# Cheese rolling

Goal 45 - chasing cheese.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

After the early start in Cannes the previous morning, the last thing I wanted to do yesterday was get up again at 5.30 in the morning. But I had been in touch with the organisers of the infamous Gloucester Cheese Rolling Festival, and they had told me that the only way to be certain of competing was to be there early, and line up with everyone else. There is no entry fee, no paperwork to complete, and no guarantee of taking part in the event.

So along with my brother Martin and partner Rachel, we headed westward out of London along the M4, and made it to the small village of Brockworth by around 8am. We found a place to get a coffee, and waited for the carpark field to open.

Our first view of the hill, as we drove out of the village, had us slightly worried, as it looked very steep, but it wasn't until we actually arrived and scrambled up to the top that we realised just how steep it really is.

At the top of the hill Martin and I joined a crowd of others sat waiting for the first race. Tension and excitement was already building, and it wasn't even 10 o'clock, still over two hours to go before the action started!

Eventually, when the burly security guards and event organisers arrived, we were all shepherded off to the side of the run, and formed some semblance of an orderly line, and sat to wait out the next couple of hours.

We had managed to get a pretty good position, and I was reasonably confident of making it into the first race. There are only five downhill races in the day, four for men and one for women, and the number of competitors is strictly limited to fifteen per race.

As the morning progressed the hillside filled up, and an estimated 5,000 people vied for position to get the best view of the upcoming events. The place was packed, and the line of potential competitors behind us was steadily growing. We had certainly been wise to arrive early, as there were going to be alot of disappointed people.

Just before midday a light rain started, and made the whole hilside much slippier, and at about five minutes before midday they let the first fifteen through the little gate and onto the top of the hill. Both my brother and I made it through, despite the chaos at the front, as everyone tried to get in for race number 1.

There was a huge cheer from the crowd as we lined up, and my heart was hammering - there was a real danger that this could end very painfully! After brief instructions on how the start would be conducted, the cheese was rolled, and we were off!

I think in my younger years I might have been alot quicker than I was yesterday, but my middle-aged common sense kicked in, and I ran with slightly more caution than many of the other young guys, most of whom were probably at least 20 years younger than my brother or I.

I still found myself tumbling and sliding, completely out of control. It was impossible to stay on your feet, as the slope was so steep, and by now quite wet and slippy. Somehow though, I managed to make it down in one piece, my number one priority, but was one of the last in my race across the line. It's the taking part that counts, I told myself proudly at the bottom of the hill.

The atmosphere at the bottom was fantastic as the winners collected their prizes and certificates, and we shook hands all round with the guys we had run with. It was only later, as the adrenaline began to wear off that I started to feel the cuts and scrapes on my arms, and the ache in my left shoulder. Compared to my brother though, who had chosen to wear shorts for some reason, I was relatively unscathed.

We stayed at the bottom of the hill, and had an excellent view of the next two races. I think that if I had seen the carnage on the hill that race 2 produced, I might have been alot less inclined to run myself. One of the guys looked like he possibly dislocated or broke his shoulder, and there was quite a break before race 3 started, as he was carted off to hospital.

Back at the top of the hill after race 3 there was another long break as another casualty was transported away - the rumour that ran through the crowd was that he had fallen out of a tree! He was taken away down the main slope, a tricky rescue operation in its own right, his neck immobilised to prevent possible further damage.

After race 4 we made an early exit to avoid the worst of the traffic chaos that would obviously follow as everyone headed for home, and got away pretty quickly.

And so, as pretty much all eccentric UK Bank Holiday Monday activities do, the day ended in a trip to hospital for the unfortunate few, and a headlong dash to the nearest pub for everyone else! What a fantastic day! Thanks to Martin for coming along and being foolish enough to come and run with me, to Rachel for getting us there and back, and to Sutty too for joining us too. Thanks also to the organisers for putting on such an incredible event! I have no idea how this continues to run without the Dept. of Health and Safety stepping in!! Fantastic!

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* * *

# Wall of Death

Death defying goal 47 \- day 1.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

What a day! I was up pretty early, and packed my bags again, ready to leave Darlington once more, and head south on the next leg of my adventures. After a quick farewell to my mum, I hit the road, and two and a half hours later arrived again at Colin's house at Stamford.

Colin Furze is a very interesting guy, and owns a homemade "Wall of Death", built in a friend's field, and was kind enough to allow me to come and have a try at riding it. I had called in on my way north a week and a half ago, and was quite alarmed at the run-down appearance of the wall, but excited too at the prospect of having a go on it.

Over the last week, Colin had cleaned out most of the thistles from the bottom of it, and prepared two Honda scooters for the day.

Getting the bikes into the interior area of the wall was treacherous enough, involving a tricky ride up the steep ramp, stopping just in time to avoid plunging into the deep hole at the top. I wisely left this tricky operation to Colin.

Once inside the wall with both bikes, Colin fired one up, and headed around and up the wall. He said he was pretty rusty, as he hadn't ridden the wall for a year and a half, but I watched in amazement as he worked his way pretty quickly up on to the vertical section several times.

After a bit of fiddling around with the older, tattier looking bike, which we couldn't get started, Colin foolishly offered to let me try on the better bike, which was the first mistake of the day. My theory was to attack the wall with confidence, much as Colin appeared to, and did so. This was the second mistake!

Before I had managed the second circuit, I had the bike onto the vertical section, but having never experienced such a thing, my natural motorcycling reaction was to try to get the bike upright, and before I knew it, I was sliding down the wall behind the bike, which had obviously lost all grip! I scraped my arm a bit, but otherwise was okay.

Colin pretty quickly put some extra effort into getting the older bike running, succeeding this time, and after a bit of a pep-talk, I was off again. The idea is to progress upwards a bit more slowly at first, and lean more, much more.

I really had imagined that it could not be too hard to do, but was a bit frustrated at my slow progress. It is SO much harder than you can possibly imagine! After three or four circuits you end up incredibly dizzy and disorientated. And the hardest part is to overcome the natural reaction to want to be upright.

But I persevered, taking regular breaks to stop the mental spinning effect, and then back to it. The wall itself is very ramshackle, and pretty bumpy, and there are quite a few potholes in the 45 degree-angled section. The vertical wall is alot smoother, apparently, but it is a huge mental hurdle to get up there.

But after a couple of hours I was getting up onto the vertical for short stretches, which I tried to make longer and longer, but it really is very visually and physically disturbing!

By the end of the day, I was confidently riding at the transition point between the 45 degrees and the vertical, and getting up onto the wall regularly, but could not quite stay up there!

And now, relaxing afterwards, I feel a strange mixture of elation and frustration. In a way, I am enjoying the fact that it is a much, MUCH harder skill to master than I thought it would be, but am also disappointed by the fact that I still haven't done a complete circuit on the vertical wall.

However, like many things in life, if it was easy, everybody would be doing it, wouldn't they? I feel that I can say that I have achieved my goal of riding a "Wall of Death", but I want to do better. But I still have more time tomorrow to crack it!

Huge thanks to Colin, and mates Mark and Lee, who gave up a huge amount of their time today to help me, and to everyone else who came along and offered support and encouragement. What a day! I can't wait to get back to it tomorrow again!

See all of Colin's videos, including his awesome Wall of Death building, crashing and riding videos, on his YouTube channel here:

Colin Furze's YouTube Channel

Goal 47 - Wall Of Death, day 2.

Monday, June 15, 2009

A barbeque with a few beers, and a reasonably enthusiastic game of back garden badminton was the ideal end to the first day of wall of death riding. Colin and Charlotte's spare room had a very comfy bed, and I slept pretty well, but every time I rolled over in my sleep, my scraped arm, from my initial crash earlier that day, woke me up, which was slightly frustrating.

On Sunday morning we went around to Mark's house to watch the motorcycle MotoGP from Barcelona, which had an incredibly exciting finish, as Valentino Rossi and Jorge Lorenzo fought an astonishing battle for the whole of the race, and to huge cheers in the living room, Rossi snatched a well-earned victory at the final corner.

After a quick bite to eat we loaded the bikes back onto the truck, and headed out to the wall again. Once the bikes and tools were lowered back in, some repair work was carried out to the dodgier sections of the lower parts of the wall. Finally cameras were set up and fiddled with, and it was time to get back on the wall.

My idea was to make the first couple of circuits slow and steady until I got the feel for it back, but things didn't quite work out as planned. In quite an impromptu fashion, Colin and I ended up with both bikes running, and with a nod at each other we both set off from opposite sides. I knew I had to get up the wall quickly and keep my speed up, and I was very quickly back to the transition point where the wall became vertical, aware of the noise of Colin's bike opposite and behind me. We managed a couple of good dual efforts before going back to the safer solo rides.

Once again I tried to creep further and further up above the transition to vertical, with similarly frustrating results as the day before. I could feel myself getting better bit by bit, and my confidence was building, but I knew time was running out, and I had still not ridden around the wall in the way that I had imagined it beforehand.

One of the other guys, Lee, came down to give it a go, riding in the opposite direction to everyone else, and with a background in BMX riding, managed to quickly get the hang of doing big arcs up onto the wall, like riding a bike ramp.

Spurred on by his quick successes, I pushed myself harder on the next couple of turns, and got a couple of good rides around, and on the next try Mark, who was operating the video camera reckoned I had done a full circuit completely on the vertical section. There was a cheer from above, but Colin looked doubtful, and reviewed the video footage. "What do you think?" he asked me, handing me the camera, and I watched through the viewfinder.

"It's still not good enough, is it?" I said quietly to Colin. "I thought you'd say that," he replied.

But something in me had clicked, and Colin and I talked about pushing up with the lower handlebar, and he explained that the first time that you felt yourself actually hold the bike up on the wall when it's weight wants to pull you down, and it stays where you want it to, everything mentally falls into place.

The next couple of times on the wall I was conscious of keeping the throttle open, and pushing on the lower bar, and made a couple of much better circuits of the wall, creeping up higher for longer, until I made what I thought was an excellent double circuit.

Colin, who had been watching from the top of the wall for a while, came back down, and I managed another good lap on the vertical. I was so pleased, and quickly gathered my spinning thoughts, and set off again. This time I could keep the bike up for a much longer period, and my confidence soared. I had cracked it! It felt absolutely awesome, and I was incredibly thrilled.

And just in time too, as Colin, who decided to have another quick go himself, found himself struggling to keep control of the bike. No wonder, we discovered as he brought it down looking very discouraged, it had a flat rear tyre. The day was over!

We packed everything away, and dragged the bikes back out of the wall and put them on the truck. There was quite a crowd now, and alot of chatting and laughter, and I thanked everyone profusely. I couldn't really find the words to properly express to Colin how grateful I was to him, but I think he knew, and I imagine my face said more than words ever could. He and his wonderful friends had pretty-much given up a large chunk of their weekend to help a complete stranger achieve a goal, and although I am sure they had enjoyed themselves, I was quite overwhelmed by their generousity. Thanks to all who were there. It really was one of the most outstanding weekends of the trip so far.

As I drove away I felt very proud, and very satisfied within myself, and thought alot about what I had just achieved. I had seriously underestimated how difficult a skill it would be to learn, but was pleased that even after an early setback, scraping down the wall without the bike on my first attempt, I had not given up.

I had managed to push past the fear and the frustration, and the spinning disorientation, and stuck at it, pushing myself when it might have been easy to give up, call it a day, and say that I had given it a good try. And ultimately I had succeeded in what I had imagined doing, and the feeling was absolutely wonderful. This goal is certainly, by a long way, my proudest personal achievement so far.

Just a few days before, I had been asked in a radio interview why I chose to have some of these crazy, dangerous goals in my list of 100. As I drove away from the Wall Of Death, I thought to myself that if I could just take some of what I felt right then, and hold it out to someone as a physical thing in my hand, and give it to them, I would simply say, "There, that's why I do these things!" What an awesome weekend!

I have a few bits of video on my camera, but not really enough to make a decent video from, so I will wait for Colin to edit the footage from the three cameras he and Mark had, and see how that looks. I will post a link to it as soon as he gets it done.

Wall Of Death Video - Part 1 \- link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MZZ4k0niaE

Wall Of Death Video - Part 2 \- link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wear7sR65-o

Thanks to Lee and Mark too for several of the photos used here, and thanks to Colin for the generous provision of a "safety tie", which all riders of the wall are required to wear! Why? "Well, you've got to look your best, don't you?" was the closest that I got to an answer that made any sort of sense. But as I left at the end of the weekend I asked if Colin needed his tie back. "Keep it as a souvenir," he said, "as long as you promise to wear it at the movie premiere if your film ever gets made!" I kept it as a souvenir, and I will keep my promise too if I ever get the chance to!

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# Running with the bulls at Pamplona

Nervous!

Sunday, July 5, 2009

I set off from London late on Friday evening, when Martin and Rachel dropped me off at Euston Station. The train trip up to Birmingham didn't take long, but the night on a couch in the darkened Burger King at Birmingham International Airport seemed alot longer! It wasn't too uncomfortable, but it was difficult to sleep with the noise of the cleaners, and later, the early passengers arriving.

At 5am I went to check in, and a few hours later I was back in France again, in the lovely south west coastal town of Biarritz. I had most of the day to potter around the coast, which was very spectacular, and despite some early rain, really liked it there.

At 6pm I caught the bus direct from there down into Spain, and arrived in Pamplona at around 9pm. Michael, from San Fermin Travel Central met me at the bus station, along with Mike from San Diego, one of Michaels's clients.

I quickly dropped my bag off at Mike's apartment, and we had a bit of wander around the town, and past the bull ring, where we met Michael's wife Sofia. The meal they took me for was delicious, and I tried my best to be good company, but by midnight I was struggling. I had been on the go for over 24 hours, and from what I saw as I wandered back to the apartment with Mike, it's going to be a tiring few days here. The streets were packed with revellers, and it's still a couple of days until the festival begins. "This is nothing!" Michael told us, "wait 'til it really kicks off on the 6th!"

The next morning Mike and I went to visit Michael's apartment, which overlooks the main, long, straight section of the bull run. After the opening ceremony on the 6th, I am going to a balcony party on the morning of the 7th to watch the first running of the bulls. What a fantastic view it will be. Thanks for the kind invite Michael!

I am in two minds about this. I think it will be good to watch, and get some hints and tips. However, when I went to the cheese rolling a few weeks ago, if I hadn't run in the first race, and had seen the carnage of race 2 before I was due to run, I am pretty sure I would have had some second thoughts. I hope this isn't the case with the running of the bulls.

I have also been very lucky to get a ticket for the first night of the bull fights at the ring after the opening ceremony. Apparently these tickets are very hard to get hold of, but last night we met a lady trying to sell one ticket, as her husband was ill and wouldn't be able to go.

This is something else I am in two minds about too. My expectations are that I am going to be a bit horrified and saddened, but I also feel that to be able to talk knowledgably on any subject, you have to have experienced it to some degree. More to follow, I imagine....

San Fermin opening ceremony.

Monday, July 6, 2009

1.35pm. 6th July 2009. I've just got back to the apartment in downtown Pamplona that I am now sharing with six Americans. Last night Mike went to collect his friends from the airport, and after quick showers all round we hit the town for a few hours, then back to the apartment for a bit of a break.

At around midnight the rest of the apartment decided it was time to go back out again, as it only felt like 3pm to them, as they had just flown in from San Diego. I wisely declined the offer to join them again, as it felt like 3 in the morning to me, and they eventually returned at around 4.30am!

However, quite impressively, they all managed to be up early the next morning, and all dressed in the obligatory white and red San Fermin outfits, we headed down to the Town Hall square at around 9.30am.

The festival started today at midday, but locals had suggested we should be in the square before 10am, as it got pretty full and crazy after that.

The Tomatina Festival had prepared me well, as things were pretty wild by 10.30, and just got crazier as midday approached. The square was packed, but the atmosphere was very friendly and festive. The air was filled with champagne and sangria, and before long our white shirts were tinged completely pink.

At midday rockets were fired, and confetti filed the air, and the whole square erupted. It was awesome to see, and to be part of. A couple of us managed to climb up onto a balcony just after midday, and the pictures and video (which will follow as soon as I get a chance to edit something) only manage to capture part of the madness.

What a start to San Fermin!! And there are still bull fights and bull running to go yet!!

Death in the afternoon.

Monday, July 6, 2009

I think I am horrified, thrilled and disturbed in equal measures after this evening's "entertainment"!

I went to see the bull fighting this evening, and tried to go with no pre-conception of what might be involved, but found that I could not shake off my expectation of being horrified by what I was about to witness. And for the first half of the evening, I was quite sickened, much as I expected to be. As the first three bulls died, I had tears in my eyes, and didn't think I would last the whole evening.

But as the second half of the evening began, I put my camera and pre-conceptions away, and watched the rest of the spectacle as a sports event. And I was very surprised to find myself thrilled by the skill and courage on display.

The whole of the evening was horseback-based bullfighting, and despite the gruesome nature of the events on display, I was quite disturbed to find myself on my feet, along with all the supporters around me, cheering the amazing displays of bravery and skill.

The horses were incredible, and so obviously keen to get close to the bulls, and certainly seemed to understand what was required of them. They pranced and pawed the ground, advancing on the imposing bull with an enthusiasm that was clear to see.

In the earlier parts of the evening, I was on the side of the bull, hoping that they might get to grips with the arrogant, posturing toreadors, but when the horse dancing around bull #4 slipped over, and the bull speared it in the right flank, I was aghast, as was most of the crowd. But the guy aboard the horse made a clean getaway, somewhat disappointingly, and thankfully the horse seemed okay, and was lead limping out of the ring.

As bulls #5 and #6 died for my entertainment, I was very disturbed to find myself less and less caring for the poor, magnificent creatures, and more and more thrilled by the spectacle on display.

At the end of the evening I left the ring and headed for home, determined to try to capture my feelings in words as soon as possible, but bumped into a couple of my American friends on the way back, and of course, one thing lead to another, obviously involving more drinking, so...

I don't really think I have quite managed to find the right words to describe my divided thoughts on this experience, but I do know that I am pretty certain that I won't be going to a bullfight again. While I can now appreciate the skill and bravery displayed, it all still had a horrible, final inevitability about it that I found too hard to stomach.

I think I'll be sticking to soccer or ice hockey from now on!

Bull running from the balcony.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

After eventually making it home yesterday evening, and relaxing for an hour or two, I headed back out at around 11pm, with my six American pals, Mike and his brother Willy, Fipps and Ivy, Nick and Curtis. We got a great position in front of the big stage in the huge Plaza del Castillo, and at midnight The Gypsy Kings played a fantastic concert.

I eventually made it to bed at around 3am, much later than planned, as I needed to be up again before 6am to go to Michael's apartment for his balcony party for the first run of the bulls.

I felt remarkably good when my alarm went off, and Curtis and I got ready to head out. It's Curtis's last day, and he was going to run. I woke Mike too, who seemed pretty groggy, and he started to round up his sleepy group.

I wished Curtis well as we went our separate ways, and arrived at Michael's in good time. He has an amazing view of the main street, and had put on a great breakfast spread too.

Eventually, at 8am the rocket went off, a huge cheer went up, and the first bull run of 2009 started. The street was pretty packed, and people started running below us, long before the bulls arrived. In the distance to my right I saw the bulls come round Dead Man's Curve, and head along Estafera.

They passed below in two groups, and although a couple of people tripped over, it looked like a pretty clean run-through, and I hope it is so again tomorrow, as I plan to be down there taking part. Here's how it looked this morning:

Once again, I can't thank Michael enough for his kindness and assistance, and use of his fantastic balcony. Don't hesitate to contact him at SanFerminTravelCentral.com if you plan on coming next year!

Goal 49 - run for your life!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

I had a bit of a siesta yesterday afternoon, and in the evening headed back out with my American housemates, who were hitting the town again. I had one quick beer with them, and then made my way through the packed main square to Michael's apartment, where I was due to be interviewed by John from www.BullRunning.com. John was also planning to run for the first time in the morning, and we discussed possible places to start, and tactics for survival. We pretty much came to the same conclusion as to where we might start.

After the interview, which was very easy-going and relaxed, I made my way through thronging crowds to the Cuitadela, where there is a fireworks extravaganza every evening. It is competitive, and the Italian team put on a great show.

Back at home I got a reasonably early night, along with half of my housemates, who had also finished the evening at a sensible hour. The rest of the group, however, had partied on, and at around 4.45am, were insisting on a house meeting, scheduled for 5am, from what I could gather! I don't think anyone else made it to the meeting, and I don't think I missed much, as it all went quiet again soon after that.

I had set my alarm for 6.15am, but was woken up at 6.35 by Nick, who was on his way out. I checked my phone, and was amazed to find, on the morning of one of my major goals, I had set my alarm for the evening, instead of morning!

I dressed in my red and white gear after a quick shower, and down in the busy main street I soon bumped into John. Before long the street was cleared of revellers and runners alike, and we were shepherded into a side street, and made our way back round to the town hall square, and joined the pack of runners again.

The streets outside the run were packed, and it was difficult to even get into the bull run streets, and once in we were absolutely squeezed in as the main street got a final cleaning. Tension was mounting, and there was an incredible air of expectation.

At about ten to eight we were allowed to spread back into the main street, and John and I picked a spot just before the ominously named Dead Man's Curve. Our plan was to round the corner just as the bulls started running, and stay well to the right, as the bulls come wide around the corner, and then join them for the run straight along Estafeta.

However, any sort of planning in such a crazy, excited, scared crowd like that, is hopeful at best.

The first rocket went off and a huge cheer went up, and you could really feel the fear and excitement in the air. As the second rocket went off, indicating that all the bulls are out of the pen and running, John and I joined the crowd, and pushed-shoved-jogged our way around the corner, and that was the last I saw of him. It was packed, and wild.

I made it about five yards along the street, and then tucked in at the right side, pretty much at the front of the crowd backed against the wall. People were streaming past in front of me, and the speed and panic increased as the bulls approached. I watched in amazement as the lead animals hurtled around the corner - they were huge. As soon as they drew level with us I heard myself shouting "Go, go, go!" and ran out, along with a large part of the crowd I was with, and we joined the run. I knew that all the bulls hadn't gone past, there had only been about six or seven in the first group, and I knew there were more behind, as they must have got separated a bit earlier on.

Now running in the middle of the street, it was just a matter of making sure not to fall over, and to try to get back towards the side before the next bulls came barrelling through. But while that seemed like a good idea, it is not how things worked out at all.

In the middle of the running hoards, three or four people went down in front of me, and I jumped and veered left, and just made it around them, but was off balance. Another person fell in front of me, and I couldn't avoid him, and tripped over the top of him. I was now on the floor, pretty much in the centre of the street, and all I could do was curl up and hope for the best. I looked up, just in time to see one of the huge brown and white guiding steers thunder by just a foot or so away. I stayed curled up, as the crowd of runners was now passing over and around me, and to try to get up would be impossible. Eventually the crowd thinned a bit, and a couple of guys gave me a shout and dragged me to my feet.

I rejoined the runners, trying to quickly take stock of myself, and decided that I was relatively unscathed. I continued to follow the route with the rest of the running crowd, eventually making it into the bull ring at the end. The ring was packed, and people milled around laughing and whooping, obviously thrilled and excited to have completed the run. I too felt elated and thrilled, and somewhat lucky too. "Next time," I thought, "I really must try to stay on my feet!" That thought was immediately followed by, "What next time? I'm not doing that again. That has to be the craziest thing I have ever experienced."

In the ring the craziness continued, as for the entertainment of the packed audience, bullocks are released into the ring one at a time to run riot among the runners brave enough or foolish enough to want to stay in there. I stayed in for a few minutes, but when the first bullock came charging past and the crowd surged back, I decided enough was enough, and watching would be a much better option that staying in the ring.

A wise choice, I decided, as over the next twenty minutes or so, I saw at least three people transported away on stretchers. I didn't take my camera with me this morning, but will try to get into the ring tomorrow to film some of the madness there.

So how do I feel afterwards? This was a pretty important goal for me, one that I have probably had for the longest time. I have been promising myself for over thirty years now that one day I would come and do this. Well, of course there is a huge sense of closure and achievement. I also feel proud to once again have done what I promised myself that I would do. And also incredibly thrilled. I eventually made it back home around an hour and a half after the run, and bought some breakfast supplies. As I made my sandwich, I was surprised to find that my hands still had a slight shake to them, as either the last of the adrenaline wore off.... or maybe it was just the strong cup of coffee I had just had on an empty stomach kicking in!

Thanks to all who helped make this goal an incredible reality... First Festival Travel for their kind offer of camping accommodation, Michael and San Fermin Travel Central for organising my accommodation in town, and for the use of his balcony yesterday, Mike, Willy, Fipps, Ivy, Nick and Curtis for welcoming me into their group, and to John too for joining me, at least for the initial few seconds of the run. You have all helped make this an unforgettable experience. Thank you all.

Bull ring madness.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

I managed to set my alarm correctly for this morning, and was up early again. The only others up and about were Fipps and Ivy, and Fipps was planning to run with the bulls, so Ivy and I went down to the bull ring to watch the end of the run. Despite being over an hour until the start, the place was already packed, but we were lucky to find two seats in a great location.

There are two big video screens high up in the arena, and when eight o'clock finally came around, and the first rockets went off, we could watch the run live on the big screen. It was great to see the crazy progress through the streets, and as the bulls on the screen approached the ring outside, in front of us people were streaming through the tunnel into the ring.

There was a huge cheer as the bulls burst through the fleeing people, who scattered to left and right, as the bulls passed through the ring, and almost directly under us into the stalls. People continued to flow in, and eventually the gates were closed and the bullock madness began again. Check out the video below. My favourite comment of the day: Ivy - "It must be some sort of guy thing, because I don't know what would make anyone think that this is a good idea!"

Fipps enjoyed himself, and escaped relatively unscathed, tripping once and gathering a couple of scrapes as trophies of the morning. Well done!

Never say never again!

Friday, July 10, 2009

We had two new arrivals at the apartment yesterday, when Mike's friends Muna and Carmen arrived in the morning, taking the occupancy total up to an impressive nine, although Kurtiss was scheduled to leave later in the day, bound for Barcelona and then home to San Diego. He had tried to leave a couple of days earlier, but he and Mike had only managed to get as far as the first bar, and Kurtiss had given up on the idea of the flight he had booked, and stayed for a few more days. He was determined to escape today.

Muna and Carmen had brought a couple of bottles of duty free, and before long shots of Jack Daniels were being handed round. I managed to stay sober enough to wander off to the square near our apartment, where there is wi-fi access, and tried to sort out my own onward travel plans, which are as yet unconfirmed.

As the day progressed, most of the household tried to stay relatively sober, as both Mike and Willy were keen to run in the morning, and the rest of us were keen to go back to the bull ring to watch the morning entertainment again. Apparently though, we didn't quite manage to stay sober enough, as when Ivy, who would be the only person out of the original group who didn't run, suggested that she might do it, we were all impressed. So much so that Fipps, Nick and myself offered to do it again with her if she decided to do so.

And at decision time at 6.30am, Ivy decided we were going to join the run. I emptied phone and money from my pockets, and wondered what on earth I was thinking! Was I really going to go back and do this again?

We walked down to the town hall square again, and were onto the run streets by 7am. Mike and Willy, along with Muna and Carmen, headed off down towards the steep early section of the run, which is the fastest part, just after the bulls come out of the holding pen. We headed in the other direction, around Dead Man's Curve, and picked a spot against the wall that would hopefully be off the main track of the bulls, and yet offer a great view as the bulls came sweeping wide around the corner.

The plan was to have as safe a morning as possible, stay up against the wall with a buffer zone of other people in front of us, watch the bulls and faster runners go past, and then join the stragglers in relative calmness.

After picking our spot we headed back towards the town hall square, to avoid being swept out of the main street by the police when the final cleaning took place. As we waited, packed in, tension mounted, and Fipps started to feel very ill. His eyes were swollen and red, and his lips were swelling, and he thought he was having an allergic reaction to something he had eaten. His wise decision to pull out while he still could, and when we met him back at home later, he was pleased he did. Anti-histamines that one of the others had at home had slowly fixed him.

So that left Nick and myself, along with Ivy. At around ten to eight we were released back into the main street, and we went to take up our chosen position. Again tension cranked up another notch, and at last the first and second rockets went off, and the bulls were on their way.

People streamed around the corner faster and faster, and a couple of people squeezed up in front of us, but I still had an incredible view as the bulls thundered around the corner against the opposite wall. Quite a few people went down among the bulls, and the corner was quite chaotic, but the bulls passed through cleanly and were gone. We waited a few more seconds for the chaos to die down a bit, and joined the runners, who were still streaming past.

Further along the run, we approached the closed gate across the main street, about two thirds of the way along. The gate is to prevent any bulls turning around and returning back along the run, which would be devastating. But as we drew closer there was shouting and excitement, as three of the massive, but relatively docile steers were herded along, approaching us from behind. As they approached the still closed gate, now hidden by hoards of runners who hadn't been quick enough to get through, panic broke out, and people ran in every direction as the steers reached the back of the crowd. We managed to avoid most of the trouble, as we were still a little way back, and eventually the gate opened, and order was quickly restored.

Another successful and, for our entire apartment group at least, injury-free morning. However, when we watched the re-runs on TV back at home, others had not been so lucky. The reason that the gate we were stuck behind had been closed for so long, was that one of the back-marker bulls had stopped, and turned around and gone pretty wild. Several people had come to grief, one guy being impressively tossed right over the bull's head, and then the bull had turned around and continued to attack him while he lay on the ground. I am pretty sure he was okay, but he will have a few wounds, and some amazing video of his impressive tussle with the huge creature.

Thanks to Nick and Ivy for causing me to do this again! Once again what a fantastically terrifying and thrilling experience. Never again? Well, who knows? I don't any more - I can see that this could be very addictive. You can add a knot for each run you have done to tassels of the red sash that you wear as part of your San Fermin outfit, and mine now proudly sports two. Apparently there are some regular runners with sashes that have so many knots that they can't fit any more on there!

Congratulations all round this morning to my flatmates. Thanks again to you all for sharing this whole amazing week with me.

Sad footnote: Unfortunately there was a death during this morning's run. "Daniel Jimeno, a 27 year-old Spaniard, was gored in the neck after one of the bulls veered into a group of runners, a Navarre regional government official told reporters." say Reuters. The occurrence is more sensationally reported in UK newspaper The Sun. This is the first death for fifteen years by goring. The incident, which happened towards the end of the run, has been reported and shown many times already on Spanish TV, and is hardly even noticeable on the video. It really does bring home the true nature of the dangers involved in this crazy event.

Leaving Pamplona.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

After yesterday's unfortunate events during the Encierro, as the bull run is called here, enthusiasm among our group for running again was somewhat reduced. The TV had been showing endless re-runs all day of the carnage, and by this morning had acquired video from a spectator showing the fatal moment when the bull named Cappuccino gored the unfortunate Daniel Jimeno.

Mike had managed to arrange spots for five people on Michael's balcony, where I had watched the first day's Encierro, so a few of the group elected to go to the bull ring, and a few of us headed for Michael's apartment, through the piles of debris left over from the night's partying hoards.

Only Carmen decided to run again, and we wished him well. After the bull run streets were cleared of the night's revellers, and swept clean once more, we spotted Carmen below, looking tense, but ready for action. I hope he did okay.

Five minutes before the start, Mike and I gave some thought to going downstairs, out the front door, and joining the run again? What is it that somehow makes it seem so attractive, even after yesterday's horrific turn of events? Fortunately common sense ruled the day, and I don't think either of us was really all that keen, but I also think that neither of us would have backed out if the other had decided to go downstairs.

We watched on the TV as the first rockets went off, and the bulls charged out of the pen and up the hill. We followed their progress up to and through the town hall square, and then onward and around Dead Man's Curve, then we all dashed across to the balcony. Once again it was extraordinary to see the running masses below, as the bulls thundered along Estafeta, and through the parting crowd of people.

Bull Run Video link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQjqwdRuIJ8

It seemed to be a pretty quick and clean run, and the bulls had only been slightly separated over the 825 metre length of the Encierro. However, within minutes the TV was showing highlights of the run, and there were a few nasty moments, with one guy in particular taking a bit of rough treatment from one of the trailing bulls, and ending up on a stretcher with a drip in his arm.

Another spectacular piece of footage showed a runner in a blue t-shirt, just after Dead Man's Curve, who managed to squeeze into a shallow doorway just as the one of the bull's horns ran along the wall where he had been a second ago. He shrank back as far as he could, and the tip of the horn just touched the front of his t-shirt. What an incredibly lucky escape!

I had packed my back and taken it with me to the apartment, as I had booked a bus ticket to Madrid a couple of days earlier, and I had to be at the bus station before 9 o'clock. Fond farewells were said all round, with promises to catch up again in San Diego or LA, and I headed downstairs.

The party was in full swing again already in the streets, and I made my way through the night's debris. I am both glad and sad to be leaving Pamplona. I am glad simply because I don't think I could maintain the same pace for much longer. It has been a week-long, almost non-stop party, although I have tried to be reasonably restrained, held back a little by thinning personal Euro-finances! But I am sad to, as I have had one of the most incredible weeks of my life. I have never seen partying and craziness on such a scale before, and over such an extended period.

I am also sad to say goodbye to some great friends that I have made here. Once again, I can't thank you all enough for welcoming me into your group, and allowing me to experience the week with you all. Gracias!

Pamplona video highlights.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

I think that unless you have been to Pamplona during San Fermin, I will not be able to paint a vivid enough picture with words to explain just how huge and crazy and exciting the whole event is. It is the biggest celebration I have ever seen in terms of numbers of people, area the festival covers, amount of bars in every street, volume of alcohol consumed, size of rubbish piles in the morning, number of bands marching through the streets, scale of fireworks displays, and of course, the incredible excitement and danger of the main attraction.

And this takes place, not just over a few hours, or a single day, like the Tomatina that I attended last year, but goes on, absolutely non-stop for over a week. Day and night, asleep and awake, drunk and sober, terrified and elated all merge into one week-long whirl of sensory overload that is hard to process.

This final video, like most of my pictures from the week, can only capture a small part of what San Fermin is, but I hope it gives you a bit of a taste. Believe me, if there is one thing you really should experience at least once in your life, this really is it.

Viva San Fermin! Video link:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grZonWhhg4Y

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* * *

# A LIFE SOLD

What ever happened to that guy who

sold his whole life on eBay?

What on earth would make someone decide to put their whole life up for sale... on eBay?

When Ian Usher decided that it was time to leave the past behind and move on to the next chapter of his life, that is exactly what he did. The results were surprising, entertaining and challenging.

However, the auction was only the beginning of the adventure. What does someone do when they have sold their life? Well, just about anything they like really!

Armed with a list of 100 lifetime goals, and a self-imposed timeframe of 100 weeks, Ian embarked on what could truly be described as the journey of a lifetime – a global adventure spanning six continents, two years, and almost every emotion.

From the amazing highs of achievement, happiness and love, to the terrible lows of disappointment, loneliness and despair, come along and enjoy the rollercoaster ride of life, as experienced by one traveller who is simply looking for a new start.

Review for "A Life Sold" by "RunsWithScissors" on Amazon.com:-

"I sat down to read this book thinking I would just start it, but could not put it down! I read the entire book in one sitting. When I was done, I felt that I had traveled around the world with Ian, and was better for it. I cheered with him, cried with him, and relived the joy of healing from a broken heart. I was inspired. The book is framed around Ian's goals, but really it's about so much more. The very thing that catapulted Ian into action worldwide is what brought him such joy in the end, with a hell of a journey along the way.

The writing flows well, is accessible and enjoyable with just enough detail. I felt I was along for the ride, and was welcomed to join in the fun, just as Ian so freely shared his goals with so many others. The goals are interesting and enjoyable, and the people Ian meets are just as much fun as the goals. I felt I shared parts of my bucket list with Ian, and although he beat me to it, his accounts invite me to feel heroic and relaxed enough to follow. (Except, I'll never run with the bulls!) There are lots of good travel tips. The book reads in parts like a helpful TripTik, and is very informative about details that matter.

The book reminds us that life is not as much about the destination as it is about the journey, that we are all more alike than different, and that anything done with good intentions and an open heart can't be wrong. Oh, and there's a very happy ending. Expect tears again. It's a good thing."

Review for "A Life Sold" by "theglobalguy" on Amazon.com:-

"I met Ian in Nepal when he and I happened to be on the same trek to Everest Base Camp. I had a vague recollection of the story of the guy who put his entire life up on E-bay, and was amazed at the coincidence that would bring that guy into my own life. Ian was a joy to travel with, and his stories of his adventures kept me laughing and entertained through our two week journey. When he told me that he was thinking of turning the entire adventure into a book, I couldn't wait to read it. Well, now that the book is published, I'm pleased to have been able to finally read about his back story, previous adventures, and the events that followed his and my adventure together.

The book is well written, with a combination of blog entries and personal narration. Switching between the styles is easy on the brain, and never feels disruptive to the narrative. His writing is laid back, funny, and very personal at times. This is a person who has had more than his share of personal challenges, and been able to find the good in everything. It's a great testimony to the human spirit, and the tendency of humankind to help a traveler, no matter where he hails from."

You can read an excerpt from "A Life Sold" at the end of this eBook by clicking here.

# Submit your own travels stories for publication...?

Well, I hope you enjoyed these airborne tales. They are all taken from my two-year, round-the-world, goal-achieving adventure, chronicled in the book "A Life Sold". If you want to read more about my adventures, as well as the other, less adrenaline-fuelled goals, I suggest you take a look at the book. The book also tells the much more personal story of what prompted this radical adventure, and where the adventure eventually took me.

If you have any amazing travel tales of your own, please feel free to email them to me. I am currently working on the next edition in the "Amazing Travel Experiences" series of books, which will be an anthology of tales from other travellers.

YOUR AMAZING TRAVEL EXPERIENCES

Do you have any travel stories or adventures you would like to see published in future releases?

Further info here:

Your Amazing Travel Experiences

If you have any questions, or stories to submit, please get in touch by using the Wider Vision Publishing Contact form.

I hope your adventures and travels are as amazing and rewarding as mine were.

Happy travels,

Ian

# More adventure travel books

If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com, or to your favourite online book retailer for more books from Wider Vision Publishing.

ADVENTURE TRAVEL

16 stories from a world traveller hoping to provide little

inspiration for your next travel adventure.

MORE ADVENTURE TRAVELS

11 more stories of worldwide adventure to further

inspire you towards your own travel goals

ADVENTURES IN THE AIR

14 high-flying tales of airborne adventure to inspire

your travelling spirit to soar.

ADVENTURES UNDERWATER

10 watery tales of excitement under the sea to whet

your appetite for your own travel adventures.

AMAZING TRAVEL EXPERIENCES

15 more stories from one world traveller hoping to provide little

inspiration for your next travel adventure.

MORE AMAZING TRAVEL EXPRIENCES

13 more globe-trotting travel stories to inspire

you to kick-start your own adventure

TRAVEL TIPS

17 travel tips to help you save money, and make your

next adventure less stressful and more enjoyable.

and COMING SOON from Wider Vision Publishing:-

YOUR AMAZING TRAVEL EXPERIENCES

Do you have any travel stories or adventures you

would like to see published in future releases?

More info here:-

Submit your own travel stories for publication...?

A polite reminder:-

In return for this (hopefully!!) interesting, inspiring and informative content, I would ask one small favour. If you have enjoyed this Kindle book I would be extremely grateful if you could take just a minute to provide a short, honest review for it at whatever location you downloaded it from.

Once again, your support is much appreciated.

Happy travels.

Ian

# Excerpt from "A Life Sold"

**Prologue**

View From A Bridge

I stood quietly on the bridge above the dark empty freeway, looking down at the smooth tarmac below. In the distance behind me I could hear the engine of a large truck as it approached at speed. I looked around and saw the lights heading my way, and thought grimly to myself, "This is it. This one is yours."

I would have to get the timing just right. If I jumped too early I would land on the freeway below, probably breaking both legs. That would hurt, but only for a short time, until the truck hit. Wait a minute though! What if I jumped early enough for the truck driver to see me, giving him time to react? What if he somehow managed to miss me? All I would have achieved would be a collection of broken bones, and more misery to pile on top of what I already knew was coming.

I would need to delay my jump as long as possible. Perfect timing would mean I'd hit the ground at the instant the truck reached the impact point, bringing the instant relief of endless darkness. But what if I delayed just a little too long? The truck was heading south, and I was on the south side of the bridge, facing south too. The truck would be out of sight as it passed under the bridge below me. Timing my jump was going to be tricky, as for a second or two I would not know exactly where the thundering juggernaut was. If I jumped too late I had visions of landing on the cab roof, and then bouncing along the top of the container, before falling off the back end into the road. There was a good chance I might survive that, and lay broken on the road, again to face pain and misery.

I should have planned this a little better. But how? If I stood on the north side of the bridge, facing the on-coming truck, the driver might possibly spot me climbing onto the parapet, preparing to jump. Would he be able to avoid me? Probably not, but I wasn't sure.

Maybe I should be down at the side of the freeway, hidden in the bushes. I could just run out at the appropriate moment, without having to consider the pain of broken bones from a poorly timed jump.

What about the driver? How would he cope with the aftermath of such an event? I don't imagine it would be easy to come to terms with something like that, even if one is completely blameless.

Good grief, if I was going to be such a coward about the whole thing, I should perhaps resort to the much less painful bottle of paracetamol tablets washed down with a bottle of whiskey. Ah, but I wouldn't want to wake up in hospital having my stomach pumped.

All of this, and more, flashed through my mind in the few short seconds as the truck closed the distance between us. The moment of truth approached.

I watched the truck pass below me and didn't make a move. The real truth was that I knew I was never going to go through with anything like this. My mind was simply whirling quickly through a theoretical set of scenarios that might provide an easy escape route from what was to come.

With a heavy heart I turned my cycle around, and began pedalling back up the cycle track alongside the freeway. I knew there were some long dark months ahead, despite the approach of another hot bright Australian summer.
PART 1

ALife4Sale

Chapter 1

A New Start

Two years later, in November 2007 I looked back at the challenges with which life had recently presented me, and decided it was time to make some changes. I needed a new start and I had a plan. I was going to sell my life!

The previous two years had taken my soon-to-be-sold life in a new direction, one which had completely taken me by surprise. I had never imagined working in the job I was now doing, and the life I was now living was so far removed from my expectations of two years earlier.

At that time, towards the end of 2005, life had been progressing nicely, according to a semi-structured plan. In November that year my wife and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary, inviting all our friends to a big party in the lovely house we had built together in the outer suburbs of Perth in beautiful, sun-kissed Western Australia.

But only days later my life was knocked violently off-course, when I discovered that my wife had met someone else, and told me that she no longer loved me.

After a traumatic few months we had separated. During those dark, lonely, early days I thought a lot about the incredibly happy past I had shared with Laura. I struggled to understand how it could have all gone so horribly wrong, without ever spotting, until it was much too late, a single sign that anything was amiss.

\---

I suppose my journey through life up to this point hadn't quite been the usual progression that most people follow, from school to college, to an entry level job in a chosen field, and then onward up the career ladder.

I did go to college eventually, but only after taking a year off between leaving school and finally settling down to further my education. I had managed to secure a place at Liverpool Polytechnic, where I would be learning how to teach outdoor activities. However, keen to see some of the world first, I deferred entry for a year. During that year I worked in a factory to save some money, and then travelled with one of my school buddies. We went to live on a kibbutz in Israel, where I worked in all sorts of jobs, as a foreign volunteer sharing the life of the community. Afterwards we travelled through Egypt, and then to Greece, where we bought a very cheap car, and drove back home via several European countries.

A short, but well-paid second summer in the local sign-making factory paid off my debts before college. I thoroughly enjoyed my years in Liverpool, but never wanted to work as a teacher in a school, my experiences in teaching practice convincing me of that. Eventually I settled in a job working for British Rail for a couple of years. I worked in their residential outdoor activities facility in the north-east of England, teaching their youth trainees skills such as communication, co-operation, teamwork, and leadership.

But a couple of years later boredom started to creep in and I decided to make a change. Inspired by a couple of friends who seemed to be making a very good living dealing in second-hand cars, I left British Rail, and moved into the small terraced house I had just bought.

Over the following years I managed to do fairly well, making a living doing the odd bit of freelance outdoor training work, dealing in cars and motorcycles, and trying my hand at several other ideas and businesses that looked like they might turn an easy profit.

In those years I managed to make a fairly decent living, but I could see that I was never going to become rich unless one of the many businesses I tried became a runaway success. As a means of self-motivation I started to make a list of things I would like to do, places I would like to see, and possessions I would like to own when lack of money was no longer an obstacle.

It was while on holiday in Kenya that I stumbled upon the sport that was to shape the next few years of my life. This new direction would eventually lead to meeting my wife, and ultimately moving half way around the world.

In partnership with my life-long friend and motor trading buddy, Bruce, I set up and then ran "Scarborough Jet Skiing" for five fantastic summer seasons. We hired out jet skis to holidaymakers at the beach, and sold new and second-hand skis. We also sold accessories, did some servicing and repair work, and sold a range of beach toys too. The north-east coast of England doesn't have a very long summer, so when the weather was good we worked all the hours we could, seven days a week. That didn't stop us enjoying life to the full, and in 1993, during the second summer on the beach, the most fantastic person I have ever met walked up to our caravan, and into my life.

Laura and I maintained a long-distance relationship for a couple of years, seeing each other as often as we could, and eventually she came to live with me for the summer season of 1996. The next year she finished college and moved over from Manchester to live with me permanently.

During the off-seasons, when it was too cold to run the jet skis, and later, after we sold the jet ski business at the end of the 1996 summer season, Bruce and I had tried a few other businesses. These had included cycle hire, wedding cars, and magazine publishing. None of them had offered the same success or fun of the beach.

I worked for the local council at the outdoor swimming pool for the 1998 summer season, the job being relatively easy to get because of both my background in outdoor activities, and my recent experience of dealing with the public in a watersports business. This ultimately led on to a fulltime job at the indoor swimming pool.

During this time Laura and I took our first trip to Australia, where her mother had been born and raised. Laura had dual nationality. Having been born in England she was registered as British, but was also registered as Australian due to her mother's nationality. She had a grandmother, aunties and uncles, and several cousins in Australia that she had never met. We spent six glorious weeks in the Southern Hemisphere summer as England's chilly winter held its grip back at home.

The following year we took our second trip, and were with friends in Sydney for New Years Eve 1999, which was enormous fun. Having thoroughly enjoyed both of our extended visits, we decided that we would perhaps like to go and live there.

Back in England we considered our options. We had often told each other that we both expected to be together for the rest of our lives, and the subject of marriage came up easily. We wanted to be together, we wanted to move to Australia, and we decided that after seven years together, we wanted to be married.

The big day was early in November 2000, and we couldn't have asked for better weather. It was a beautiful cold, crisp, blue-sky autumn day. The wedding ceremony at the registry office was simple, and afterwards Bruce took us up to Oliver's Mount in his van – we hadn't bothered with the expense of fancy wedding cars, saving our money for our future move to Australia. Lunch was in a Chinese restaurant, followed by an afternoon pub crawl down through the town centre to the seafront.

After dark at the beach we had everyone meet and bring along fireworks, enjoying a wonderful, but completely disorganised display. One of Laura's friends had brought along her new boyfriend, who was in the army. He had already thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon pub crawl, and provided great entertainment crawling around on the sand trying drunkenly to light more fireworks as others exploded in wild colours around him. It looked like a battle scene from some sort of psychedelic war movie as he belly-crawled from one firework to the next, and it was amazing that he didn't have to be whisked away to the casualty ward.

The reception took place in a town centre social club, and we had booked an Irish cèilidh band to play, which meant everyone could join in for some well organised Irish-style barn-dancing.

It was such a wonderful day, and I couldn't have been happier, knowing that I was now married to the person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

A year later, after several more jobs, including working as manager of a mobile phone shop, a collector for a finance company, and a labourer on a building site, we sold pretty-much everything we owned. We said goodbye to all our friends and family, and moved halfway around the world to make a fresh start together.

We soon settled into our new life, and absolutely loved Perth, warm and sunny, on the beautiful Indian Ocean on the west coast of Australia.

We lived in a wonderful shared-accommodation house almost on the beach for our first year there, and then rented our own smaller unit in nearby Scarborough, namesake of the English coastal town where we had shared much of the previous seven years.

Australia offered a good life, and although my first foray into business there, renting deckchairs on the beach at Scarborough was doomed to failure, we both found great jobs, and lived a nice, easy-going life together.

Another eighteen months later, after much research, we took the plunge and bought our first piece of land, and built our first Australian home. The house, finished just less than three years after our arrival in the country, was like a dream come true. It was bigger and nicer than anything we could have ever have afforded back in England, and we worked hard together to create a fantastic home and garden. We had a few parties there, always enjoyed by our growing group of friends, and the pool table in the huge living room was always a central attraction.

Our longer term plan had always been to make this house the first stepping stone on our journey to planned financial freedom. Our goal was to end up in a home completely mortgage-free, our target time being within a period of five years. With completed homes often being worth around 25% more than the combined land and build price, the house had already gone up in value. We had also chosen the land well, and houses in our suburb had increased in value even further.

Our next step had been to look for another block of land to repeat the process. Our plan was to build our next house there, to move into that as soon as it completed, and to sell the first house at the same time.

In our next chosen suburb, land was selling well, and we had to queue overnight, sleeping in our cars in order to secure the block of land upon which we had set our hearts. It was in this queue that we met Andy, another expat Brit now enjoying the sunny Perth lifestyle, also trying to benefit from the on-going property boom.

Little did I suspect that this chance meeting would be the catalyst that would irrevocably alter my relationship with my wife and send my semi-planned life careering off the rails less than a year later.

I had my suspicions that something was going on, but could never have imagined the full devastating reality of discovering that Laura had fallen for someone else. That night, when life blindsided me, I cycled away from our home, and without ever planning to, had found myself on the bridge over the freeway. For the first time in my life I fully understood the awful decision and devastating action some people choose when life's terrible surprises come calling. I chose to cycle home and face the future.

Laura claimed it was all a huge mistake and said I was the one she wanted to be with. We decided that we would try to forget what had happened, and move on with our lives. No one else knew our situation, or needed to, I suggested. Laura assured me that all contact with Andy had been severed.

For a while we had tried to get our life together back on course. But a couple of difficult months later it was apparent that all was not well between us. When I discovered that Laura had seen Andy again, I confronted her about it, and she told me she thought that perhaps she no longer loved me.

I was heart-broken, and the following terrible weeks were filled with endless arguments, recriminations and blame. Laura still didn't seem to know what she wanted to do, but after more talks and a painful visit to a marriage guidance counsellor, her wavering indecision ended. It was clear that we had no future together. I was utterly devastated. In that one horrible moment I realised that my whole future had finally been stripped from me, and I faced a bleak, unknown darkness ahead.

Our current work and financial situations meant that the most practical decision was that I should move out. We decided to sell the house immediately, split the money, and go our separate ways.

Somehow we managed to do this without recourse to lawyers, and although on paper it all sounds very civilised and easy, there were weeks of arguments, tears, regrets, and sorrow. I hated every minute of it, and although I had fought with everything I had to try to save our marriage, I knew I had now lost her. I had to accept her final decision and move on.

\---

During those miserable first weeks after our separation, as well as wondering where it had all gone wrong, I also did a lot of thinking about what I wanted to do next. I made some decisions of my own. I had been working at the same shop for the past three years, acting as a rug salesman, and eventually as assistant manager, at the family-owned business. At the age of 42 it was officially the longest job I had ever had – I tend to get bored pretty easily working in one place, and like to challenge myself to take on new roles and learn new skills.

One of the main decisions I took involved my immediate future. If one huge part of my life in Perth had changed completely, then I could not simply continue in the same job, and live a shadowy half-hearted version of my previous life. It was time to leave my job, and do something completely new!

I also needed to earn quite a lot more than I was currently earning, as when we had separated, Laura and I had decided that we would sell the house we had been sharing. We agreed that I would take over ownership of the new block of land we had bought the year before. I would make all payments on it, in addition to all payments for the house-build that was due to commence there very soon.

After talking to a few friends, I decided to follow the path that many others in Western Australia chose when they needed to earn more money, and enter the mining industry. I had no relevant experience at all, but didn't really see this as a big hurdle. I started taking truck driving lessons in order to get the driving license that I would need to drive the monster trucks used in the mines.

I soon had the license I required, and handed my notice in at the rug shop, having already started to apply for dump truck driving jobs. The way a lot of mining works in Western Australia is on what is called a "fly-in fly-out" basis. This means that you live in Perth, but fly in to a remote mine site to work, and then fly back out for your time off. This most common work pattern is a "2 on, 1 off" roster, meaning that you fly in and work for two weeks, usually 7 day shifts and 7 night shifts, then fly home for a week off.

As the end of my time at the shop drew closer I had not yet found a job. It appeared that companies were reluctant to take on new people, often referred to as "greenies", for a fly-in fly-out position. Many of the agencies which I approached explained that companies generally did not take greenies as they were unsure of how newcomers would handle the work conditions. They did not want the expense of training someone new, only to find that the trainee hated the job, and left shortly afterwards. Employers wanted people with previous experience.

Following a couple of weeks of fruitless unemployment, I took a friend's advice, and packed my car with the few belongings I had that were not stored away. At the time I was staying in a borrowed apartment near the beach, the completion date for my new house was still about six months away, and I had no other ties. After a few farewell drinks in the local pub with some friends, I packed the last of my meagre belongings into the car, and hit the road early the next morning, heading east out of Perth.

Kalgoorlie lies about six hours drive away from Perth, in the middle of the desert, and exists mainly because of the huge open pit goldmine there. I drove into town on 4th July 2006 knowing nobody, with nowhere to stay, and no promise of a job at all.

However, things went very well for me there and within 48 hours I had a small but comfortable room, and a job driving a machine called a slag hauler, working in the local nickel smelter. The job also involved driving a nice Mercedes tipper truck with a decent auto gearbox, and an older tipper truck with a very cranky manual gearbox that took a lot of practice to use smoothly. I had to learn a lot of new skills very quickly.

It took me a while to get used to working strange new rosters and hours, and having to cope with night shift work too. During this time I kept pestering the Human Resources guy at the Superpit recruitment office to get me the job that I really wanted – trainee dump truckie in the huge open pit gold mine right at the edge of town.

I would often go to the lookout and gaze down into the pit, watching the huge trucks go around and around. One day soon, I thought, I hope to be driving one of them. Less than five weeks later, I was offered a trainee position as a driver there, handed my notice in at the nickel smelter, and went to start my new career!

The trucks are absolutely enormous and the training was very challenging, but I loved it. At times it was very frustrating, and I made plenty of mistakes, as did many of the other greenies there. But because this was one of the only places in the country that took on trainees, there were quite a few of us to share the mistakes around. Many of us had drifted into town from elsewhere to learn to drive these monster trucks, and I found myself working with a great group of people, all going through the same challenging learning curve.

After the first three months or so I found that the work was now much easier. The twelve-hour shifts did not seem so long, and night shift did not seem so bad. Handling the truck was pretty-much second nature too, and now many of us found that we could drive around, listen to the two-way radio, the FM radio, pour a cup of coffee and eat an apple all at the same time – well, almost!

Every second week, at the end of our block of dayshifts, the whole crew would all head to the pub after work. A few of us who had started around the same time together would laugh about how difficult it had all seemed at first, and share stories of some of the dumb things we had done, and still did occasionally.

It was a simple life, filled with hard work, but also filled with a lot of laughter and a huge amount of fun. I met some great people there, some of whom I know will be friends for the rest of my life.

For me it was also a very important part of my healing process. Living out in Kalgoorlie, with a totally new group of people, meant that nobody knew my past, so it was never mentioned. Long days sat in a truck with just my own thoughts meant that I had time to start to come to terms with the huge, unexpected upheaval in my life.

I spent a total of five months working in the Superpit, and absolutely loved it, but by the end I was ready to go back to Perth. I missed being by the ocean too much, and I missed my friends back in Perth too. I had a final date for completion of my house, and I had enough experience to get a fly-in fly-out job. This would pay more money, and in my personal circumstances, would suit me much better, I thought.

Just before Christmas 2006, a little over a year after my awful marital discovery, I moved back to Perth, and into the newly completed house that Laura and I had designed together. We had planned to live there together for a year or so as the next step on our journey towards financial freedom. Now, as I moved the furniture that we had shared in our previous home into place, I felt utterly alone.

For the past five months I really hadn't needed to confront too directly the huge loss, but now being surrounded by all of the reminders from my past, I had to face head-on the gaping hole that Laura's departure had left in my life.

I hated it! I didn't like being in the house alone. I missed my friends in Kalgoorlie, and the easy camaraderie we had shared as a group. I felt trapped in this new place, a reminder of everything that had once been, of all that I had hoped and believed was to come, and I hated it. I couldn't simply sell up and move on. To avoid Capital Gains Tax, Australian law stipulates that a house has to be your main home for a period of twelve months before you can sell. This had always been our original idea. We had planned to live in this place for a year while we bought the next piece of land, and built the next step of our dream.

I didn't feel like I had much choice, and had to accept that I would have to stick it out for a year. I had already landed a mining job that would mean I was only at home for one week out of three, the other two weeks being up on site in the desert far to the north. I would manage somehow.

Over the next few weeks I made the place my own, turning it into quite a nice bachelor pad with the addition of a large-screen home theatre system and an outdoor hot tub. I bought myself a motorbike, something I had always loved when I had lived in England, but had never had in the five years I had been in Australia. Slowly the house started to feel a bit more like home, although still filled with reminders of a past that was now long-gone.

I started dating again, and met Mel, who was originally French, but had lived in Perth for the past fourteen years. She was in much the same position as I was, although she was officially divorced and had two girls. I was only separated and had no kids to tie me down. We got on pretty well, and started an easy-going relationship about fourteen months after my separation from Laura.

\---

Around the time I met Mel I started my new job, and flew up for my first shift at the end of January 2007. I had landed a great contract, working a 13/8 roster, made up of 6 day shifts, 7 night shifts, and then 8 days off. My flights up and back would earn me frequent flyer points, all food was provided on site, and the pay was significantly better than Kalgoorlie. At the mine site accommodation village there was a canteen, a bar, internet room, a large swimming pool, gym, squash courts and a few other sports facilities. I had really landed on my feet, and soon settled in to the new job.

Since everything was provided for two weeks out of three, and I was being well paid for the long shifts I was working, over the following months I managed to make a fairly significant reduction in my mortgage.

It wasn't all easy sailing though. The work could be hot and boring, and the 12 hour shifts could really drag sometimes, particularly the nights, when it could be a real battle just to keep your eyes open. I missed the easy friendship of the group I had worked with in Kalgoorlie. I made plenty of new friends at Telfer, but because everyone had different lives, and lived in different places in a bigger city, somehow it was not the same as the close-knit little community I had enjoyed in Kal.

One advantage (or disadvantage, depending on how you looked at it) was that you got plenty of thinking time as you drove endlessly up and down in the huge open pit. I really found that I quite liked it, often happy to turn the radio off for long stretches at a time, and think my own thoughts. I always carried a notebook and pen to write any ideas down, or work out finances for some new business plan.

As the year progressed, life continued in a fairly uncomplicated fashion. I would fly off to work and be away for two weeks at a time, and then return for a week. I became happier in my house as I made it more like my own personal bachelor pad, and I enjoyed spending time with Mel and her two girls.

However, as the end of the year approached, I started to think about selling the house. Prices were high, and it was looking increasingly like the market may have reached a high point. I didn't feel like the time was right to buy another piece of land, as it all seemed to be very much over-valued. And to be honest, without Laura, my heart really was no longer in the long-term plan we had shared.

\---

So there I was, in late 2007, sat in a dump truck in a gold mine in the far north of Western Australia, having spent a large part of the previous ten months driving around the same hole in the ground. I had been in my new house for almost a year, and could now sell it without financial penalty. I started to think about my future, and what I might like to do next.

I really didn't want to stay working in the mine during the approaching southern summer, as temperatures would be extreme in the desert. I had worked long and hard, had paid a good chunk off my mortgage. I fancied a bit of a break, and perhaps some travel and adventure.

I made the decision to sell the house. Although a lot happier living there now, the house and its contents still provided a strong, and sometimes saddening reminder of a previous life, and although I felt that I was adjusting well, I wanted to complete the moving-on process, and this required getting rid of the house. It also made great financial sense, as I had paid quite a bit off the mortgage, and the house value had shot up quite dramatically over the year since completion. I would therefore be able to release a good nest egg of cash. One idea I had was perhaps to buy a big motorhome, and travel the country a bit. Perhaps I would work in a mine for six months of the year, over the winter, and then travel for six months each summer. Financially this would be quite viable once the house sold.

What would I do with the furniture, I wondered? Perhaps I could sell it all with the house, offering a fully furnished package. But I also had a car, and a motorbike, and I was considering buying a jet ski for the coming summer too. What would I do with all of them? Maybe I could include them as part of one big lifestyle package?

It hit me suddenly! I remembered an idea my old friend Bruce had had many years before. He must have had a particularly bad day at work, and came stomping into the pub, saying, "That's it, I'm going to get rid of the lot! The business, the car, the house, everything! I am going to sell my life!" He explained that the idea had just come to him. He would advertise the whole package in the Sunday newspapers, as he reckoned that despite the occasional bad day, he had a pretty enviable lifestyle.

However, when he checked the price of a full page advert in a national Sunday newspaper (this was long before the days of the internet) he was a bit disheartened, and he let his idea fall by the wayside.

Now, fifteen or more years later, as I drove my truck down the main pit ramp, the idea solidified into a plan. "That's what I am going to do! Sell my life! I'll include the job too, and will include an introduction to some friends. That's brilliant! How and where will I sell it? Auction it on eBay, of course!"

\---

When I returned to Perth for my next week off I ran the idea past three good friends, whose opinions I valued. I was surprised and encouraged by the results. Two of them thought it was a fantastic idea, one going as far as saying that she could imagine doing the same thing right now herself, as it was exactly how she felt. The third opinion was exactly the opposite, wondering in disbelief how anyone could possibly consider leaving behind everything they had worked so hard to build up.

I thought that if the idea could produce such strong opposing opinions, then there would be the chance to get some publicity for the project, which I knew I would need for the idea to be a success. If I had received three indifferent responses I would have probably abandoned the idea there and then.

I didn't take any immediate action, but let the idea stew a bit, and back at work jotted down ideas and thoughts as I drove up and down the ramps. The idea seemed to be one that just would not go away though.

In December I handed my notice in at work, and flew home after my last shift on Christmas Eve. I had decided to take at least a couple of months off, and between Christmas and New Year I went shopping for a small campervan. I trawled the backpacker hostel adverts boards, and soon found what I wanted. A Swedish traveller was selling the Toyota Hiace camper that had taken her and her friend around Australia for the past six months, and I bought myself a bargain.

I spent the months of January and February on an extended trip across Australia from west to east, on the way calling in to visit old friends in Kalgoorlie, and skydiving at as many different dropzones as I could find on the way. Over the past five years skydiving had become my sport of choice, and I tried to jump as often as I could.

On the journey across the huge open spaces of the country that I had come to call home, I thought a lot more about the "life for sale" idea. I met up with Mel and her kids and we travelled together for a few days, discussing the idea in much detail. Mel embraced the idea with enthusiasm, encouraging me to consider it more seriously.

I finally made the decision that I was going to go ahead. It would be fun, I thought, and might just raise a bit more than selling the house and contents separately, if I managed to get enough publicity.

Mel offered to help me create the website, and between us we mapped out a rough design. I bought and registered the website www.ALife4Sale.com. During a week-long stay with friends in Melbourne I started to write some of the content for the site, while Mel, back in Perth, started putting a website together, inserting my content as I wrote it.

I needed a date to provide a framework and timescale, and decided to aim for a seven day auction period finishing at the end of June, which is the end of the financial year in Australia. It was a pretty arbitrary choice, and when I looked at a calendar and saw that the 30th of June was a Monday, I decided that it might be better to end the auction on Sunday 29th. This meant the start date for the auction would be the 22nd.

I had decided to have a 100 day countdown from the launch of the website to the start of the auction. This was for two reasons. Firstly I thought that it may take a couple of months to build up a bit of publicity for what I was about to do, and secondly I was looking for a serious buyer, and I wanted to give someone time to sort out their finances, and perhaps even visas if they were from further afield than Australia.

I thought a lot about who might be a potential purchaser of the package I was putting together, and imagined several possible scenarios. Perhaps a Perth-based property investor might be interested in the package as a buy-to-let, already furnished and ready for a tenant. When we bought the land we had chosen well, as the house was in a pleasant location, with a nice westerly outlook over a natural bushland reserve, but was also an easy five minute walk to a train station on the newly completed southern railway line.

Perhaps someone from the other side of Australia might be interested in buying a ready-to-move-into lifestyle, particularly if they were coming over to join in the huge West Australian resources boom that was still pushing up house prices, and offering fantastic wages in the mines.

Maybe someone emigrating from abroad might be tempted in the same way by a ready-made lifestyle. Perth has an ever-expanding population, as more and more people realise what a wonderful place it is to live.

Over the next few days, while I had good access to an internet connection at my friends' house in Melbourne, the website really started to take shape, and I started to get very excited about the whole idea. As a practical way of selling everything at once it was brilliant, I thought. It would be a great experience and a lot of fun too.

We came up with the skeleton of the website over the course of five or six days, and I thought it looked pretty good. I continued my journey to Sydney in the campervan, where I did may last bit of skydiving for the journey. I sold the campervan, and flew back to Perth. I was now fully committed to the idea of selling my life, and was keen to get on with it.

We had about two weeks to complete the website, and worked pretty much flat-out to make it as good as we possibly could. We took many pictures of the inside and outside of the house, and all its contents. We took pictures of the car, and the motorbike, the hot-tub and the home entertainment system.

There was a lot of cleaning and tidying involved, and many times as we took pictures, there was a pile of junk just outside the frame, which was shuffled from room to room as we progressed.

On the website itself we included a guestbook and a voting page, where people could make comments or become involved by expressing their opinion on the whole idea. We also built in a bulletin board page where there could be some back and forth discussion on the matter too.

I still was unsure whether we were building something that nobody would ever see, or whether I might be successful in creating some publicity for the forthcoming auction.

I made the decision that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly, and leave absolutely everything behind. On the website, I stated that when I was paid by the new buyer, I would walk out of the house with nothing other than one set of clothes, and my wallet and passport.

I knew that I had to get as much publicity as possible for the auction, and spoke to my friend Simon, who lives in London, and works as a freelance reporter. I asked him what he thought the best approach would be to let people know what I was up to. He suggested that he could write a press release aimed at the UK newspapers, focusing on the fact that I was an expat Brit now living in Australia. If it makes it to a UK national newspaper, he explained, it would probably be picked up all around the world. "You may even get to do something on local radio," he suggested, and I thought publicity like that would be fantastic.

Many years before, I had written a book about how my wife and I had met. It was hand-written, and had only ever been intended for an audience of one. It told the story of how back in 1989, Bruce and I had started racing motorcycle road race sidecars together, and how we had eventually set up the jet ski hire business. There had been some very funny moments, and some great achievements.

I wrote about how one day in 1993, the person who was to become my wife walked up to our caravan on the beach, and stepped into my life. I described how we started our relationship, and some of the struggles and challenges we had faced.

I had thoroughly enjoyed the process of telling our unusual tale, even though the book would only ever have one reader. I had re-read it when it was complete, and thought it told the story very well, expressing how I felt about this wonderful person that had come into my life.

The next weekend that Laura and I were together, we drove up to Oliver's Mount, where we would stand together several years later on the day we married, and I handed the book to her, incredibly proud of what I had created. I truly believed we would happily spend the rest of our days together. Laura suggested that perhaps one day we might show the book to our grandchildren.

Eventually, of course, seven years after we met, we had married, and made the decision to start a new life together in Australia.

Five years later, as the relationship crumbled before my eyes, during one teary discussion about what had changed, I pointed out the book, and asked, "But what about that? What about all that we had to go through, all that we had to fight for to be together? That book says everything that I can't find the right words to say right now. What about all that?"

The devastating answer I had received was, "That doesn't mean anything now."

Therefore, as I put the website together, I thought I might publish the book online too. I knew people might want to know some of the background that could bring someone to the point where they decide to sell their whole life on the internet. I thought the story showed how much I felt I had lost, and would perhaps provide some context, so that people might understand. I also thought, somewhat bitterly, why not publish it? After all, it meant nothing to anyone else now!

The book was included as part of the webpage, as an introduction to the rest of my story. I hoped to write this during the build-up to the auction, telling the continuing saga of my adventures. It would cover our move to Australia, the life we created there together, the devastating break-up, and my change of direction that eventually led to the auction.

One of the last pieces of the whole package that I had struggled to find an answer for was how to include my job. I could not think of any reason why a mining company would want to be involved, and the logistics of trying to organise that would have been far too complicated. Eventually I hit on the perfect solution. I went back to the rug shop where I had worked for three years. It was a small family business run by husband and wife, Jenny and Dennis, who had been incredibly supportive and helpful as my marriage had collapsed.

Jenny loved the idea, and as they had a staff member leaving, there would be a position that I could fill on a temporary basis, a job which could eventually be offered to the new owner of my life. I knew the shop might benefit from some publicity if I ever got this off the ground, but Jenny just wanted to be a part of it because she thought it was a fun idea.

Finally, I spoke to a few of my friends too, explaining what I was about to do. I wondered if they would be happy to be included as part of the package. I explained that I was not proposing to sell them, but was simply offering an introduction to the new owner of my life to some wonderful people that were an important part of my life. Quite a few friends were very happy to support me, and thought it would be fun to be part of such an unusual idea.

\---

With everything in place, and the website almost complete, it was final decision time. Was I really going to do this? Did I really want to get rid of everything?

It was now over two years since Laura had finally decided that she was going to leave me, and although my life had improved, particularly since meeting Mel, it was obvious that all was still not well, otherwise this might not seem like such a good idea.

Two years later, nothing had done much to diminish how much I missed my wife. I had moved 600 kilometres out into the desert and had started a new career. I had moved into a brand new house. I had lived a completely new lifestyle working in the hot dusty mines of the outback. And of course, I also had a new girlfriend. But none of this had really changed anything for me. I still ached for my friend, my partner, my lover, my everything – my wife.

Every day, small things would remind me of the past that was now long gone, but still ever-present. The tiles on the shower wall that Laura had chosen, the rug on the living room floor that she had designed herself, the sweater hanging in the wardrobe that she had bought for me on my birthday, the same day I had done my first skydive. The plates in the kitchen that we had rescued from the back garden of the house that we had first moved into in Perth, and that we had washed and cleaned together. The small metal puzzles on the kitchen counter that we had bought on our first trip back to England, two years after migrating to Perth.

We had moved from England at the start of 2002 with almost nothing but a rucsac of clothes each, and so everything in the house that I now lived in alone had been bought in the wonderful four years we had shared together in Australia.

Everything about the house, and everything in the house reminded me of Laura. I decided that if I was going to get rid of the place and move on, I would be just as well getting rid of absolutely everything else too, and making a completely fresh start.

After all, it was only "stuff", I reasoned. The logical and optimistic parts of me thought that the idea might generate some interest, and hopefully sell as a complete package, perhaps for a pretty decent price too! If this happened I would be completely free to travel for a while, and if ever I needed "stuff" again, I would always be able to re-buy new "stuff".

Travelling now seemed like a good idea, I had decided. I hoped this might be the final step in my long process of coming to terms with the gaping hole in my life that Laura's departure still left.
Chapter 2

A Life Online

"That's it!" said Mel. "ALife4Sale is now online. Good luck!"

The 14th of March had arrived quickly, and the website was almost complete. There was a long list of minor adjustments, and some additions that would need to be made, but we were ready to go! Mel had uploaded the pages to the online website server, and I wondered just what we might have set in motion.

Simon had written his article back in London, and that day offered it to a couple of the UK national dailies. He phoned and told me that he had had some interest from both The Sun and The Telegraph, but nothing definite yet. There was a rejection from The Daily Mail, and he was just about to offer it to my old local newspaper, The Northern Echo.

The next day only The Northern Echo had run with the story, printing a huge full-page article on page three of the paper. It was complete with pictures and information from the website, which had just gone live online the day before. They had also run the full article online on their website.

I was pretty excited, but also a little disappointed that I had not made it into The Sun, which has one of the largest readerships of any English language newspaper. Now that would have been publicity, I thought, but at least I had made a successful start.

I had no idea of what was about to come!

Not long after the article appeared in The Echo, Simon phoned to say that he was getting a lot of interest from some of the national papers now, and asked if it was okay for him to give them my phone number. Of course it was!

The phone rang again soon, and I found myself talking to a reporter from The Independent. I was quite excited, and pleased to tell the story of how this had all come about. The interview was very positive and encouraging.

A short time after I hung up, the phone rang again, and a reporter from The Sun asked me roughly the same set of questions. This was all going much better than I had hoped for, and if these two ran articles, the coverage would be fantastic.

On the Monday morning UK-time, which was mid-afternoon in Perth, Simon rang again. He was delighted to tell me that there were articles in both The Telegraph and The Daily Mail, although neither of these had rung me. The Independent and The Sun had also run their pieces after speaking to me over the weekend, so I had made at least four of the UK national dailies. This couldn't possibly get any better, I thought!

I had had a few other calls from UK newspapers, and WHO? magazine in Australia had also called. Despite this I was not quite prepared for the next call, which came from the producer of Australian breakfast TV show Sunrise. They wanted me to come in the next morning and appear live on the show at around 8am. The time difference between Sydney and Perth meant that I would have to be at the studio at around 5:30am!! I cancelled the idea of going out to celebrate St Patrick's Day that evening!

I set off for the studio just before 5am, and was met by a cameraman and shown into the building. I was very surprised by how empty and quiet the whole place was. There was only myself and the cameraman in the studio. A sound guy fitted me with an earpiece and microphone and then disappeared back into a little control room. Other than the security guard who had let me in there was nobody else around.

I sat in the chair at the desk, with a photo-backdrop of the Perth skyline behind me, looked nervously at the huge camera pointing at me and listened to the show itself live in my earpiece. I have to admit I was pretty tense, but excited too. I took another sip of the glass of water at my side. Finally, in my earpiece, I heard a producer from the Sydney end of the connection ask if I could hear everything okay. "You're on live in 30 seconds."

I tried to relax, but couldn't suppress the nerves, and all of a sudden I was live on air, chatting to Mel and Kochie, the household-name presenters. I felt that I did pretty well, didn't stutter and stammer at all, and wasn't given any tricky questions. It was all over in a couple of minutes.

I was out of the studio before 6:30am, and went to visit Mel, as she lived close by. I was pretty high with excitement – I had just been on live TV on the east coast, and it would show here in Perth in about an hour. We watched the TV as I came on at 8am, and congratulated each other on a job well done. We had certainly created some publicity about the auction now!

My next port of call was at the rug shop on my way home. Jenny was very excited, but Dennis had a few well-chosen words of advice! "You looked very serious! It looked like you had a broomstick up your backside! Relax and have fun." I thought about this, and thought that yes, it is just meant to be fun, and if I ever got the chance again, I would try to enjoy the moment much more.

By the time I got home the message bank on my home phone was full and could accept no new messages. I had turned my mobile on after I left Mel's, and it had started ringing almost immediately. There was also a message to tell me the mobile phone message bank was full.

At home I turned my computer on and pressed "Send/Receive" on my email software. It took a while for the "receive" to complete, and when it did, over 1,000 messages had flooded in. As these downloaded, both my phones had started ringing again.

I tried to wade through as many of the emails as I could, but it was an almost impossible task. As soon as I hung one phone up the other would ring. Often both would be ringing together, and in the end I disconnected the home phone and just answered the mobile whenever it rang.

I soon got the chance to give my TV interview technique another try. I was invited to appear on a different Australian breakfast TV show the next morning, followed that afternoon by a live link-up with a UK breakfast TV show. I really tried to relax during both of these, and later my friend Karen told me that I had looked so confident and natural. I was really starting to enjoy all of this, but was panicking a little about all the unanswered emails and phone messages.

The next days were absolutely crazy. It was just non-stop. There were constant phone calls, interviews, photographers taking pictures for newspapers, and many radio show appearances. I was also trying to deal with the never-ending flood of emails. Calls started to come in from America and other parts of the world, and I appeared on US breakfast TV show Good Morning America.

I was absolutely worn out. I was often up before 5am to dash to a TV studio for an appearance, and then still doing interviews with US radio stations at 11pm. On many occasions people would call to schedule a radio interview time, but I explained that I could not really promise that my phone wouldn't be engaged, as it was ringing constantly. In many cases I was then asked if I could go live on air right there and then, and within 30 seconds I was in the middle of another interview.

One morning I woke up and thought, "Oh no, I've even started dreaming about doing interviews in the middle of the night!" But I paused for a moment, thinking, "Wait a minute! That feels a little more real than any dream."

I looked at my mobile phone, and found I had forgotten to turn it off before going to bed. I checked the call register, and discovered that I had received a twelve minute call at 3:30am. I had no idea who I had spoken too, or what I had said, but had a vague feeling that I had done okay. I just laughed – I had wanted some adventure and excitement, and I was getting more than I could have possibly imagined! I was going to try to enjoy every aspect of this experience.

But not everything was positive. The Daily Mail in the UK ran a huge double-page spread about the book I had written. They had obviously downloaded a copy from the website, and had gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. They had cherry-picked certain sections, choosing incidents and events from the story to sensationalise. Taken out of context, the parts the article focussed on made the book sound like a terrible warts-and-all exposé. The huge spread had featured a photo of Laura, and I had no idea where they had got it from. It was a picture I had never seen before.

I discovered later that they had turned up on my mother's doorstep back in England, and had hounded Laura's parents too. Laura called me, outraged firstly that I had told our story, secondly about the newspapers hounding her parents, but mainly about the fact that her photo was in the paper. "How did they get my photo? Could they have hacked into my computer? Or did you hack into my computer, steal it and give it to them?"

What?!! I tried to explain that this particular paper had never even spoken to me, that I had released the book simply as background, and still stood by it as a wonderful love story. None of this was being done to get back at her in any way. That had never been my intention at all. In regard to the photo, I had no idea how it had appeared in the newspaper, or where they had got it from. I tried to convince her it was certainly none of my doing. "I don't believe you, I don't know what you're capable of any more!" she said, and hung up.

I thought long and hard about my motivations for publishing the book. I had to admit that if I was completely honest, there was a somewhat cynical, financial element to my decision. I had thought I might be able to make some extra money from the book. But in my heart I also knew my intention had never been to cause anyone any hurt. It was obvious that I could not simply state that I planned to sell my whole life without providing some sort of background. The book would provide such detail, explaining how I felt about Laura, and give some insight into how losing her had affected me. I still stood by what I had written as a wonderful story of love triumphing over adversity.

I took the book down from the website, refunded everybody who had bought a copy, and cancelled all access to the material, which was password protected. I wrote an apology to any and all concerned, and published it online. I had been pretty naïve, I realised, about how it might be interpreted, but we all make mistakes and misjudgements at times, and this was one I was going to have to live with. I had done my best to put it right.

I was really surprised about the overall level of interest there was in me, and my reasons for taking this action. Most people seemed to perceive my decision to sell everything to be an extreme response to my situation. I really had imagined most of the interest would be about the lifestyle package that I was offering, not the motivations behind the package. Naïve again, perhaps?

In those early days I was also contacted by several documentary makers, all based in the UK. They all sounded very professional, and a few of them said they would send me discs of some of the TV documentaries that they had produced. It all sounded very exciting.

When I told Dennis at the rug store, he suggested I should talk to a friend of his who was a Perth-based documentary producer.

It was just before Easter weekend, and I arranged to meet up with Celia, whose company had quite an impressive resume of programs that they had produced. We got on pretty well, and she suggested that they were in a much better position to document what was happening, as they were right here in Perth, and could be with me much more than someone from the UK. She also suggested that they would like to start as soon as possible, as some amazing things were happening right now, and they would like to film over the long weekend. An overseas team would miss a lot of the initial early chaos.

I was in two minds about how it would be to have a documentary made about what I was doing. I took a bit of time to think about it, whenever I managed to get a few brief minutes of thinking time between calls and interviews. I quite liked the idea of being the focus of an unusual tale, I had to admit, but I also wondered about the downside of always having someone there with a camera in my face.

I spoke again with Celia, and she put my mind at ease, convincing me that they certainly wouldn't be there all day every day. Eventually we came to a tentative agreement that we would start filming over the long weekend, with no formal agreement as to where that may lead. This was something that we would be able to firm up over the following days.

I felt pretty comfortable with the arrangement, and met Britt, who would work as the main cameraperson and interviewer for the documentary. She would also occasionally use another camera team to record material if we went out and about.

Over the weekend Britt was at the house quite a lot of the time, and filmed much of what was going on. She would film me while I did interviews on the phone, and I found that it didn't take too long to forget, at times, that she was even there. Often, at the end of an interview, I would look up to see her filming me from along the corridor, and would be slightly surprised.

We did a lot of face-to-face interview-type of questions whenever the phone wasn't ringing. Britt would ask me a question, but wanted me to respond with the question included in the reply, so that the answers were fully self-contained statements. I found this a bit tricky to remember at first, as all the other interviews simply needed a response to the question. Eventually, with a bit of prompting every now and then from Britt, I managed to get the hang of it.

I really enjoyed the process, and Britt was very easy to get on with. It was quite different from the many radio and newspaper interviews I was still doing, where I found that I was often asked the same, or at least a very similar set of about five questions. I soon heard myself sounding a bit like a parrot, giving the same set of answers to the now familiar questions. I had found ways of expressing these answers that felt natural and comfortable to me, and tended to stick to these, trying some variations every now and then.

After a few days I told Britt I was about to do another telephone interview, and wondered if she wanted to film it? No, she said, as I would probably be saying pretty much the same stuff she had filmed me saying in most of the other interview she had seen me do.

I continued to enjoy Britt's face-to-face interviews, as she asked some fantastic questions, and really got me thinking about a lot of stuff that I hadn't given much consideration to recently. She managed to delve subtly into my past, emotions, motivations, relationships, future plans, and much more. It was quite a fascinating process to go through, and I tried to be fully open about everything. I did wonder in the back of my mind how it all might look when finally edited.

Over the Easter weekend, and during the weeks following, there were also developments in a new and very exciting direction. I had received a few emails from Hollywood production companies and independent producers interested in my story. I had responded to them and given them a contact number, but never really expected to hear any more from them.

My first inkling that there may be some serious interest in the possibility of my story being used as a movie script was a call from a guy in the US called Andrew Panay. I had a long chat with him, and he told me that he was one of the producers of the movie Wedding Crashers. Oh dear, I am not really a big Owen Wilson fan, but after our chat I did take a look at the movie, and quite enjoyed it. Andrew told me that he was in contact with Walt Disney Pictures, and the President himself there was very interested in the idea as a movie script.

I tried to retain a healthily protective scepticism about the whole thing, but over the next few days I received several other calls form both major studios and independent producers.

One of the more surreal conversations I had went as follows:

Movie Producer (very casually): "We see this project as a Tom Hanks-type of rom-com!"

Me (a quick, tongue-in-cheek response): "Tom Hanks? No, no! I rather saw George Clooney playing me!"

Movie Producer (not picking up on any of the humour in my voice): "Yes, we could possibly make that happen!"

Me (almost speechless with surprise!): "Riiiiiight....."

One of the best contacts I made during those first few weeks was with a guy who specialised in publicity for unusual internet projects. I received an email from Evan, and wrote back when I got the chance. We kept in touch, and eventually, when things calmed down a bit, I gave him a call to see what help he might be able to offer. He told me of his work with Kyle McDonald, who had created an unusual internet project. He had started with one red paperclip, and had swapped it for something else. He swapped the new item again and repeated the process over and over until he eventually ended up with a house. Kyle had just signed a movie and book deal, arranged through Evan, and another of his contacts, a movie agent called Brandon.

Evan, Brandon and I had a conference call one evening, at the point when there were quite a few emails and calls coming in from movie producers and studios. I had realised that if I was at all interested in following up with any of these potential offers, I really needed an agent who knew what he was talking about.

Again, I had spoken to Dennis at the rug shop, and he had suggested I should perhaps speak to an Australian-based representative, and gave me a couple of ideas of people who might be suitable. I eventually got to talk to one of these guys, and was quite unimpressed. He seemed completely confused by what I was doing, and had nothing to suggest other than perhaps selling the story to an Australian women's magazine. I told him about the movie studio contacts and the interest from documentary makers. He said he would think about it over the weekend and get back to me. I never heard from him again, and didn't bother calling him back.

I had a couple of further discussions with Brandon and Evan, and was starting to feel a bit pressured by the documentary makers with whom I was currently working. They were keen to make a formal agreement about the material they were filming. They were obviously inputting a lot of time and effort, and were keen to know that they had an end result to work towards.

I had put them in touch with a UK-based production company that had been interested in my story as an episode of an ongoing documentary series. An agreement had been made between a producer at the BBC and the Australian team about filming the episode for them.

I was quite excited and flattered. I mean, how often is it that the BBC wants you to be the central character of a forty minute documentary? But a problem was becoming apparent. I had spoken to Brandon about the documentary, and he had told me that there may well be a potential conflict between a movie being scripted, and a documentary being filmed.

I considered both possibilities at some length, and spoke to several friends about my dilemma. I was really enjoying the documentary process, and now felt pretty confident that the people making it would do a great job, and would present the story in a truthful and honest fashion. A movie would be quite a different matter, and, I imagined, would end up being far-removed from any of the reality of the story.

But there was one key difference, and several of my friends had asked me the same question. "How much would you get paid for each option?" Although my original intentions had been to sell my house and belongings in order to move along to the next phase of my life, there was of course a desire to sell my house for the best price I could get. And if I could maximise that through other options too, then that would give me the best possible start for the next part of my life.

I asked the documentary makers about any possible payment, and actually felt a bit bad about doing so. I mean, what a great opportunity it all was, and what fun too. I was informed that documentaries were never paid for, as it may have an impact on the impartiality of the final outcome. I understood, I told them, but in the back of my mind I thought it did seem slightly unfair. As several friends had also pointed out, everybody else involved would be getting paid – the camera people, the documentary company, the producers and the TV company.

I eventually appointed Brandon as my official representative with regard to any possible movie deal, and felt relieved that he could look after that whole side of the crazy situation. Any emails or contacts that came in about movie deals were forwarded straight to him. I was pretty confident that he would do a good job, as he worked on a percentage basis, and it was in his interests to do the best he could for me.

In the meantime I had worked out another deal with Evan, with regard to publicity for the auction. The publicity campaign that I had initially imagined had been achieved many times over in the first week after the launch of the website, but of course, additional publicity would not do any harm. Evan usually worked on a monthly fee basis, but I explained that I could not afford this, and would really have no idea how effective his work had been, as I had generated such a huge amount of publicity myself.

Eventually we worked out percentage-based deal, which would pay Evan on a sliding scale, dependent upon the final price that the auction raised. I was quite happy with this arrangement, as anything that Evan got paid would be out of extra money that I raised over and above my initial hopes and expectations. Evan was very positive about how the auction would go, estimating a low figure of $600,000, but suggesting that $1million could be a realistic possibility. My original target had been $450,000.

Brandon worked with all of the movie contacts I forwarded to him. He informed me that the original contact from Andrew Panay and Disney was looking like the most realistic possibility, but there would definitely be an issue with a documentary being made. I discussed this with the documentary people, and they argued pretty strongly that there was no reason why both could not be made, and would possibly even be beneficial to each other.

I went back to Brandon to argue their case, as I was still keen to make the documentary. He discussed it further with Disney, but eventually came back with the same answer. Disney would not permit a documentary to be made if they were to enter into a movie deal.

I felt caught in the middle of all this, and was feeling a little under pressure. Eventually I decided to take myself out of the equation altogether, and put the documentary people in direct contact with Brandon. A day or two later the documentary people decided that without a formal agreement at this stage they could no longer go on spending money in a speculative fashion, as it appeared unlikely they would end up with a finished program. I understood, of course, but felt that I had now burned my bridges, and hoped that something concrete would eventually come out of the extended negotiations with Disney.

During all of this, the craziness of the on-going media attention continued. I had returned to the rug shop to work, but would spend a lot of time answering my phone, and dealing with one interview request or another. On a couple of occasions camera teams from Australian or international news shows would come to the shop to do an interview, and Jenny, who loved all the publicity, made a couple of TV show appearances too.

I received an email from a producer at the Jay Leno Show in America, and was quite stunned. Now that really would be big time publicity! Unfortunately nothing ever eventuated from that, but a trip to the US would have been great.

I was also contacted by a producer at The Tyra Banks Show. I had never heard of Tyra Banks, and did a little internet research. I was somewhat worried by the content of her shows. It certainly seemed to be targeted firmly at the trashy, sensationalist end of the market! When I next spoke to the producer I raised my concerns, but he informed me that the show was a one-off, featuring people who had decided to make radical change in their life.

I made it very clear that I had never discussed publicly the details of the break-up of my marriage, and would not be prepared to do so on the show. I pointed out that I had only ever stated in any interview that I had made a discovery one evening that had blindsided me, and that our marriage had ended shortly afterwards. With this proviso agreed upon, it looked like I might be heading to New York very soon.

Unfortunately, the producer had left things until the very last minute, and although I was prepared to go on short notice, flights were very expensive. The show's budget would not stretch to that expense and another trip to America fell through.

I was continuing to write a daily blog about what was going on in the 100 days countdown to the start of the auction. Finding the time to do so was a bit of a challenge sometimes, but I knew it was worth it as it would serve as a great diary of these strange and interesting days.

Often I would write about what was going on, but I was always aware that part of the reason for the blog was as a sales pitch for the "product" that I was offering. Often my blogs were therefore about great days out in Perth, the wonderful weather, and the laid-back beach lifestyle.

I continued to receive a huge number of emails from individuals who wished me well, or offered support and encouragement. Probably about 95% of the incoming mail was positive, but there was certainly quite a bit that was very negative too. Some people suggested that I was an attention-seeking idiot. Why couldn't I just deal with my problems quietly like any normal person would, without having to tell the whole world about it? I think many people missed the point that I was not doing this for sympathy, merely in order to sell up and move on. I had simply told the story about how I had reached this point as background, to explain how I had arrived at my decision.

The bulletin boards on the website were proving to be equally interesting. Again, a huge part of it was positive, encouraging and supportive, but there was a small and very vocal minority that were very negative too.

I had one particularly enthusiastic detractor who accused me of being a hoax and a fraud, suggesting that the auction would never happen, and that I was conning the world's media. For what purpose, I wondered, in response? Other people wanted to know the ins and outs of my finances, my personal relationships, and other private details. My reluctance to divulge absolutely every private detail about myself was taken to be some sort of proof that there was some big fraudulent scheme developing here.

I quite enjoyed the negative comments and criticisms. They gave me a chance to respond to issues that many others must be wondering about too, and an opportunity to show people that all was exactly as I presented it on the website and in the press. But as I was to discover, there really is no convincing some people!! I didn't worry about it too much.

Although I tried to avoid it as much as I could, it was impossible to avoid my private life being dragged into the press. One unusual and somewhat surprising story appeared in the local Perth newspaper. I thought that the Australian press had a bit more integrity than much of the UK's gutter tabloid press, but the article was a bit of a disappointment.

Mel and I had been in a relationship for about a year by this point. We had met over a year after my separation, and enjoyed a pretty easy-going relationship. I was often asked if I had a current partner, and never really answered directly. Firstly, Mel did not want to have any part of the publicity, and secondly, I believed that any current relationship was nothing at all to do with the sale.

However, one local reporter did not see things that way, and went and did some digging, quizzing colleagues at my skydive club. The article that was written was not very positive, and suggested that the "heartbroken" man selling his life on eBay was perhaps not all that heartbroken after all, as he was in a happy relationship. What was not pointed out was that this was now two years after my separation.

On the bulletin boards, my favourite critics picked this up as proof that all was not right here. If I was lying about this, what else might I be lying about? I decided to address the issue head-on, and linked directly to the article myself, pointing out that a couple of years had passed since my marriage had ended. I asked how long I was supposed to wait until I began looking for a new partner, and some new happiness in my life. Also, after some discussion with Mel, I pointed out that our relationship had not quite been the blissful union that the news article had suggested, and that we had in fact now separated. Mel had eventually lost patience with my lack of commitment to the relationship, and had decided to move on. I really didn't like having to make such personal matters public, but had to be somewhat realistic, and accept that this was part of the down-side of all the publicity.

After a few weeks the publicity died off a little, and things started to return to some semblance of normality. A couple of friends from the east coast of Australia had moved over to Perth to start new careers in the mining industry, and they stayed with me for a few weeks. Another friend from the UK came and stayed for a while too, as he visited several companies with a view to getting a job in Australia, and moving over with his family to live here. It was nice to have some visitors who were also making some huge changes in their own lives, who understood my position and actions, and offered plenty of encouragement and support.

In the calmer days after the initial craziness died away, Mel and I made up and got back together again. We had discussed our relationship, and what being together again might mean. I had been at pains to point out that I really didn't want anything too serious or involved, and hoped to keep things very much on a casual, friendly basis. Mel seemed happy to agree to such an arrangement, and a little sense of normality returned to life as things settled back into some sort of routine, and I resumed my duties at the rug shop.

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I was still doing occasional interviews, answering the same set of questions that I had been asked hundreds of times before. In most interviews the series of questions was very predictable, and my answers had become pretty automatic. This generally is what I would be asked:-

"Can you tell us what you are doing?"

"Why have you decided to do that?"

"How much do you think it will all sell for?"

"What will you do afterwards?"

"What do friends and family think about it?"

Sometimes there would be other questions included, such as why my wife and I had separated, or what she thought of the whole idea. Another favourite was about how I could sell my friends. I was always very keen to explain that I had never, ever said that I was selling friends. I was simply offering, as part of the package, an introduction to a wonderful circle of people who would be prepared to offer a warm welcome to a newcomer.

I must have been getting a bit too comfortable doing these interviews, as I really enjoyed it when something a little different happened. I particularly enjoyed the breakfast radio show type of interview, where there would be a panel of two or three presenters, and laughs were their main aim. They were much more challenging, and a lot more fun. You really could have anything thrown at you, and had to be pretty quick on your feet with a snappy answer.

It was the fourth question on the list that always gave me the most difficulty. I had been asked so many times in interviews and on the ALife4Sale website forum what I thought I might do once I sold my life. I didn't really have an answer, even for myself. My usual glib response was that I would be able to do anything I liked!

But in the back of my mind, I wondered what it was that I really would like to do. One day I was chatting on the phone to Evan, the US-based internet publicity guy. He suggested that after the auction, when I came out to LA, we would go skydiving together, and he would show me what his city had to offer.

"Great," I had said, "but I guess that depends on how the finances look, and where I am working at the time."

"Work?" said Evan. "No, no, no! You don't understand! This is your chance to never have to work again!"

"Well, I like your thinking Evan," I replied, "but I haven't got a clue what you're talking about! How would I do that?"

"Well, you have to come up with a follow-up project. Something that is internet-based, is quirky and interesting, that follows on logically from what you are doing now, and most importantly – and this is where your money comes from – has a book deal in it!"

"Righto. Sounds good. So what is that then?" I asked.

"I have no idea, that's up to you, buddy!" Evan had laughed.

"Hmm, okay, I'll get to work on it."

This advice sat in the back of my mind for the next month or so. People continued to ask in interviews what I planned to do next, or where I intended to go, and I always answered that I still didn't really know. All I knew was that I wanted to do some travelling.

One day on the ALife4Sale website, a forum contributor called Tess had asked if I had any sort of a "life-list", or set of goals. I did have an old list somewhere that I had written out a few years earlier.

Not long after I had searched unsuccessfully for my old list, Mel and I spent an evening together at her house, and were well into our second bottle of wine. I could still remember many of the goals from my original list, and told her with enthusiasm about many of the things that I had always wanted to do or see. I estimated that out of the list of 100 things I wanted to achieve in my life, in five years since I had written them down, I had only ticked off perhaps six of the goals. That obviously wasn't going to work. If I maintained the same rate of achievement, I was going to die one day with the larger part of my list still incomplete.

In one sudden flash of wine-fuelled inspiration, an idea came to me. As soon as I sold my life, I would set off to achieve all of the things on my list. I would re-write a list of 100 goals, and give myself a time limit. And there it was, almost fully formed, the idea for my next two years – 100 goals in 100 weeks.

As soon as the idea flashed across my somewhat inebriated mind, I thought, "That's it!!" It perfectly filled Evan's criteria, and it would be incredibly exciting to do too. I knew immediately that this is what I would be doing next. My future was looking very exciting indeed.

However, in my excitement, I didn't notice Mel's crest-fallen look, and when I look back on this occasion, I can only imagine the hurt I must have caused.

Mel, as always, supported and encouraged me. She threw herself into designing another new website, cataloguing the goals, designing search options, setting up blog, photo and video pages, and much more.

As I added text to each of the goals, and background to the reasons behind my choices, I became increasingly excited and focused on making this all become a reality.

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For almost as long as I can remember, I have always had goals, even when I never fully grasped the importance of doing so.

When I was very young, I can remember watching a documentary about Ernest Hemingway, a writer born in 1899. He lived a full life, settling in different locations for several years at a time to write, and then moving on. Inspired by his visits to Spain, in 1926 he wrote his first novel, The Sun Also Rises. When the documentary covered this part of his life, it showed quite a lot of footage of the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. I can clearly remember sitting and watching those people running wildly through the streets with bulls thundering around among them, and thinking to myself, "I'm going to do that one day!"

When I told my parents they smiled and wished me luck. They were always supportive of anything my brother or I wanted to do, but I don't know if they believed I would ever do it.

As I started to gather my list of 100 goals, including things I have always wanted to do, and places I have always wanted to see, I thought of that day, probably over 30 years earlier. Of course, on the list I started to make, running with the bulls at Pamplona went right at the top!

There were many other things that I had often said I wanted to do, but had never managed to find the time to get around to doing. It was time to put that right. Once everything sold I would have little to tie me down, and hopefully plenty of cash from the sale. My list of goals started to grow.
Chapter 3

The Auction

My idea was to break the news of my goal-achieving new plans just as the auction finished, with publicity at its highest. I would hopefully kick-start my new adventure in fine style.

As the end of June approached, interest from the media began to increase again. By the time the auction started, I had stopped working at the rug shop again in order to ensure that all went smoothly with the sale, and to complete work on the 100goals100weeks.com website.

However, the start of the auction didn't quite go according to plan. I had been contacted by eBay, who had seen some of the publicity about the auction, and had allocated me my own personal eBay rep. Matthew was there to help me with any issues that may come up, and his first requirement was that the sale be listed under "Real Estate", as the house was the major asset included in the whole "life" package.

This meant that the eBay auction could only offer an introduction between buyer and seller, as house sales were covered by many different laws in each state. Ultimately any final bid would not be binding on either the buyer or the seller. This sounded great to me, as eBay could therefore not charge an end-of-sale commission, and the total cost to make the listing online would be a mere $49.95.

I asked how we could deal with the potential problem of fake bids, and Matthew suggested that we set up the sale as a "Registered Bidders Only" auction. Anybody wanting to bid would have to answer whatever questions I cared to ask, and I could choose who would be allowed to bid. This would enable me to weed out people who looked like they may not have made any sort of arrangements to have finances in place, or considered whether they would need any sort of visa to come to Australia. Anyone from abroad would, as a minimum, have to at least be familiar with the requirements of the Foreign Investment Review Board.

Out of the hundreds of potential bidders I imagine I rejected about a third, mainly because many of these had made no sort of plans should they be the winning bidder. I thought I had every eventuality covered.

On the morning that the auction began, many friends came round, and there were a few bottles of wine, and even one of champagne too. There was a wonderful celebratory atmosphere, and at noon Mel and I set the auction in motion! Matthew had told us that once the auction had started we would be able to switch on the "Registered Bidders Only" option, and Mel said she would do this as I raised the first of many glasses in celebration.

A short while later Mel asked me to join her. She couldn't get the option to switch on, and at the moment it was a bidding free-for-all. Bids were already at over $100,000, having started at just $1 only minutes before. The "Registered Bidders Only" option didn't seem to be available, but I said that it shouldn't be a problem, as I would just give Matthew a call. Ah, but eBay help was only open during working hours on Monday to Friday. It was now just after noon on Sunday. We tried the online help system, and Mel struggled for a while, messaging back and forth with a help rep somewhere else in the world. She was told that the option had to be turned on before the auction started, and couldn't then be selected afterwards.

No problem, I had said, I would just speak to Matthew on Monday morning and get the issue resolved. I suggested that Mel should join me with the others happily downing the cheaper wine now that the champagne had been consumed.

By mid-afternoon bids had reached around $350,000, and I confidently predicted that they wouldn't go any higher now. By the time we went to bed the top bid was $650,000.

I had to be up very early the next morning for a TV interview, and with a couple of spare minutes, I decided to take a look at the auction's progress. I was absolutely astounded to see a bid of $1.9 million. As I sat there in amused disbelief, the screen refreshed, and the bid was now $2 million. Laughing to myself, I shut down the computer and headed for the TV studio.

By the time I was interviewed the bids were at $2.2 million, and I was asked what it felt like to become an overnight multi-millionaire. Let's all just stay calm here, I had suggested. I hadn't had a chance to check out the veracity of these bids, and had no guarantee that they weren't fake. I explained the issues we had had with the registered bidders fiasco.

Later in the morning Matthew resolved the issue, and together we looked at the bids. He explained how I, as the seller, could access full details on any bidder, including home phone number, and I got to work.

I made several amusing phone calls that morning, including one to the aunt of a fifteen year old lad in England. Was he there, I wondered?

"No, he doesn't live here," she explained in a broad Geordie accent. "He only uses this number because he doesn't have a phone of his own."

"Right," I sighed. "He has been bidding on a rather expensive item on eBay. Does he often do that?"

"Oh yes, he often buys stuff off the internet."

"Okay, would he be in a position to pay over two million dollars?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, his current bid in a pretty high-profile auction is $2.2 million. If he doesn't follow through, I imagine it will be your door that the world's press will be knocking on shortly!"

"Eeee! I'll kill the little bastard!"

And so it went on. Eventually, I had weeded out all of the idiots, and cancelled all of the bids that looked in any way suspect. By mid-Monday morning we were back on track, and the top bid stood at $150,000.

It had been fun to be a multi-millionaire though, even if it was only for a couple of hours.

The rest of the auction week was equally incredible and entertaining. There were live TV interviews first thing every morning, and radio and newspaper interviews for the rest of the day. There was a wonderful sense of build-up to the finale, and friends would call round regularly to see how things were progressing.

I arranged a party for the Saturday evening, as a "thank you" to all my friends who had supported me over the previous months. On the morning of the final day of the auction, the house was an absolute mess.

With Evan's help in LA, we had set up a live video feed from the house, and were streaming the last hour or so live over the internet. By 11:30am there was a house-full of friends, many still there from the previous evening. We were live online, had two TV news crews setting up gear in the living room, a Japanese TV crew filming everything that was going on, and a helicopter circling overhead looking for a place to land.

After the initial drama of the $2 million-plus bids, the auction had progressed in a much more sensible fashion. The current high bid was $399,300, just a few dollars short of my unstated reserve price of $400,000. I was hoping, as often happens on eBay, that there would be a final flurry of bids in the dying seconds of the auction, and the price would be pushed up a bit higher.

The clock ticked past noon, and the auction was over. My computer was being fed through the projector onto the large screen on the living room wall, and I refreshed the eBay screen, eager to see the final bid.

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To find out what happened at the end of the eBay auction, and to follow the amazing two-year adventure that followed, get hold of a copy of "A Life Sold". It is available in both paperback and digital format at all good online book retailers. Search for either "A Life Sold" or for "Ian Usher" at your favourite online book outlet.
