My name is Stanley Mataichi Sagara. My Christian name was given to me by my first grade teacher who was probably from the Midwest and had never had an experience with Orientals. Apparently my Japanese name was too hard to remember for roll call so all the Japanese children in my class were given Christian names which we carried through out our lives.

Having been born in August I have just turned 81. I have visited 66 countries, however some of these countries are no longer separate, such as Macau or Hong Kong. Likewise Taiwan may revert back to China in the near future.

Some of my foreign travels were while I was on military duty and some were when I was on eye care missions with Volunteer Optometric Services to Humanity (VOSH), and the balance were when I took tours to these countries. Several trips have been repeats. I still consider Japan as my favourite country, the birthplace of my father and mother. I still have a number of third cousins in Japan as I have second cousins in Brazil. My second choice would be Austria, where I was when WWII ended.

I was in D Company, 506th Pcht Rgt, 10lst Airborne Division. When the war ended eight Japanese-American paratroopers were transferred to the 82nd AB Division because the l0lst was scheduled to go to the Pacific Theater to help defeat Japan. Due to our race we were assigned to Europe, hover about 6000 Japanese American GIs were assigned to various units in the Pacific War as Interpreters-Translators. Each was assigned two big Caucasian GIs as body guards who accompanied them everywhere (even to the latrine) so they would not be mistaken for an infiltrated Japanese soldier.

I would very much like to visit Scandinavia, I have only been to Denmark so far. I have been to Copenhagen and Helsinki on several occasions but only in transit.

My special travel equipment is a nylon bath cloth made in Japan. It is helpful to remove dead skin and helpful to scrub my back. ($6.00). In my travels I try to keep my carry on suitcase under 28 pounds which I send as checked baggage. In addition I carry a shoulder bag which can be converted to a small back pack where I carry my shaving kit and other items that I need at my first hotel, in case my checked bag goes astray. In this way I do not need to access my checked bag for three days if necessary. I actually weigh my packed bag and may remove some items if the bag is too heavy. I try not to take any item again if I did not use it on my trip, except clothing to suit the difference in expected weather conditions. I also live out of my packed suitcase for a week prior to leaving for the trip so that I do not forget some important item or if I think I can do without an item, it is left at home. If you cant carry your own bag, its too heavy, Better repack! I do not take whole tour books, only those pages that are pertinent. I like maps and take good ones which are helpful to help write my travel journals. A small compass is very helpful, especially at night or in such places as subways.

The longest travel trip I have taken was for 38 days, which is about the most I want to take. They say “When you start to look like your picture in your passport, its time to go home! Australia had many surprises for me. I knew it was a big country and that we would only see a portions of it but a lot of country is a desert. I did get cleaned out of my essential possessions while in Oaxaca, Mexico. As it usually is, I have to blame myself. I kept everything in my shoulder bag which I set down on the floor while I paid for my parking fee at a public garage. Less than a minute was all it took. No one saw anything, so they told me.

I have trapped pickpocket’s hands in my pockets, once in Sao Paulo, Brazil and again in San Miguel de Allende, GTO, Mexico. I learned that its better to chalk it up to experience rather than involve the police. They can tie you up for hours taking statements, by someone who is not fluent in English and they may want the money or article involved as evidence, which you will probably never see again since you will be moving on in a day or so.

While visiting in Korea I purchased several bargain priced sneakers which were irregulars or factory over runs. They were about two or three dollars a pair. I gave the salesman a US ten dollar bill and waited for my change. He asked me how I was fixed for sport socks and placed a bundle (probably 10 pairs) on the counter. I said I’m OK and still waited for my change. He puts another bundle of sport socks on the counter, still no change. I hesitate, he places a third bundle on the counter. I think he is not going to let that US ten get away from him. It became amusing to me the way it was turning our, when I should have been angry at the salesman. I finally took the several bundle of sports socks, the salesman kept my US ten and I have still a good supply of Korean sport socks (one size fits all).

As an American of Japanese decent we were not permitted to enter the US military service. In fact the ones who were in the service were given early discharges, except the few that fell through the cracks.

Later when the all Japanese-American Regimental Combat Team was formed we were permitted to volunteer to join. I was attending college at the time and was later drafted at Ft Leavenworth, KS. I was given the Japanese language test (we all took the test) but I did not pass so I went to Infantry basic training in CampShelby, Hattiesburg, Mississippi. On my first pass to Hattiesburg I got off the bus and had to use the restroom. I only saw signs for BLACKS ONLY and WHITES ONLY but nothing in between. My first experience in the segregated south. I used the toilet in the local USO which had no colour bar.

Upon finishing basic training I volunteered for the Paratroopers, mainly because I could double my pay (Jump Pay was $50.00) My parents and younger siblings were in a government operated concentration camp near Cody, Wyoming with any income so I was sending them part of my pay check each month. They could purchase some items in the camp canteen or order from the catalogue sales or ask their friends to do the shopping for them outside the camp.

After the war I transferred over to the newly formed US Air force and completed my 20 years of military service. I joined the Lions Club soon after I retired and one of the projects we had was collecting donated eye glasses. No one could tell me what happened to the eye glasses after we collected them.

I later discovered that the Volunteer Optometric Services to Humanity (VOSH) a group of eye doctors and lay personnel actually go on eye care missions to third world countries to examine patients and give out recycled eye glasses, at no cost. I have been on some 16 eye care missions to some very interesting places, such as India, Thailand, Ecuador, Peru, Paraguay, Bulgaria, Ukraine, Russia, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico and many other countries.

I must point out that we do pay our own way but sometimes we get reduced air fare or our sponsoring organization may take care of food and lodging. On each trip we have the option of taking a side trip to visit some interesting places.

I also joined Friendship Force International, an organization started by Pres Jimmy Carter. There are clubs all over the world. We visit other club members as a group and they in turn visit other clubs around the world by mutual agreement. Usually a week of hosted family visits. I went with the club to Russia for three weeks and on another trip I went to Freiberg, Germany in the Black Forest and to Oltzysn, Poland where we met some very nice people who really like Americans.

Apparently I do not have a face that people think of as typical American. Although I tell them I’m from America they still question my origin so to make it uncomplicated I just tell them “Mongolia” which satisfies their curiosity. There is more to this story, but this will have to do for now. Maybe later I’ll think up some more things about my travels. Stanley Mataichi Sagara (the Mongolian).

Footnote by Mac: The ‘Arab’ in the picture is Stanley Sagara. He brought the Arab outfit in Tangiers and it is genuine although I think it is Palestine rather than Moroccan garb Another friend William “Mike” Westfall took the picture and put in the caption. It was taken at our small AFRH-W Halloween Party. We do not dress like that every day (I do but not the others!)

If you would like to contact Stanley, he is happy to answer e-mails on: smsagara2@aol.com

1. The Czech Republic has more Internet Service Providers than any other non-English speaking country.

2. Andorra has no unemployment, which is just as well because they have no broadcast TV channels either.

3. Andorrans live the longest, four years longer than in neighbouring France and Spain.

4. China's labour force stands at 706 million people, almost three times that of Europe and twice that of North and South America combined

5. China has the most workers, so it's a good thing they've also got the most TV's.

6. Clipperton Island wins our prize for the most unusual looking country.

7. Israel enjoys a GDP per capita 21 times that of the Palestinian West Bank and 33 times that of the Gaza Strip. Its military spending per capita tops the world.

8. North Korea spends the most of its GDP on its military.

9. Luxembourgers are the world's richest people – and also the most generous.

10. Indians go out to the movies 3 billion times a year.

Source:

Globetrotter meetings have temporarily ceased until further notice due to a bereavement in Christina’s family. If you can help Christina resurrect the Texas meetings, as she would really appreciate some help, please contact Christina on texas@globetrotters.co.uk

We are sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still e-mailing strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of Mac reminiscences including those about a hotel room with a vibrating bed and an Indian astrologer.

I am reminded in my correspondence about travel of a vibrating bed I found one time on checking into a budget hotel in Hong Kong. I discovered after I had checked in that it was a rendezvous hotel for Chinese older citizens. No young people checked in but older Chinese that wanted a romantic interlude. I was slow to catch on. There were mirrors on the ceiling and on the wall and I thought gee this is unusual for a budget hotel. I laid down and thought I was switching off the light switch and I switched on the switch that started the bed to rumbling. I at first thought it was an earthquake. I am always slow to catch on.

I one time was on a bus in Mexico City when there was an earthquake and I thought it was just a rough road and bus with bad springs. When I got to my destination everyone was out on the street from that budget hotel. I knew a lady there that had been in same hotel in San Miguel De Allende. The hotel in Mexico City was run by a religious order something like the Quakers. She volunteered there and laughed when I asked her why everyone was out in the street to greet me! Incidentally the hotel in Hong Kong was called The Hilton. They swiped the name from the more expensive Hilton Hotel. It is like calling a hotel The Ritz when it is anything but the Ritz. I really liked that hotel though. It had windows you could open and look out on very busy street. I had been on a package tour where the four or five star deluxe hotel in Hong Kong that was included had been so cold and I could never get the air conditioning off. My cheap hotel had overhead fan which I liked better. The deluxe hotel had a mat in elevator that gave you the day of the week each day woven into the mat. They had a grand piano on a float in pond but for some reason I was never comfortable there so at the end of the tour I moved into the unusual budget hotel and was happy there. It was in a less touristy part of Nathan Road at maybe in the direction of Nathan Road. Just ask for the other Hilton.

I just read that a writer wrote that Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris is a “Third World Airport” It brought out some travel memories. After getting radiation for prostrate cancer I started travelling before I was completely well. At a stop on a tour bus in southern India I started to get up from my seat when I realized I had bled from my rear end onto the seat. I didn’t want to panic the Indian tourists so decided I would sit in my seat until they were all off and then run like hell. All were off but one Indian gentleman who stopped by my seat on way out and asked if I was alright. For some strange reason I blurted out my problem. It turned out he was an Indian doctor who was a cancer specialist at Sloane Kettering Cancer Hospital in New York City and just on vacation in India. He gave me some medicine to stop the bleeding and gave me address of where he was staying in New Delhi if I needed more help.

I continued on to Paris and at Charles De Gaulle airport I started bleeding again. Although I had a ticket on Air France for security reasons they would not let me use their toilet. I went down the street to a police station and by hand motions (not an easy thing to do) asked if could use their toilet. They did not arrest me for obscenity but directed me to their toilet that they evidently had criminals use. It had no door so they at desk could watch the prisoners when in toilet I guess.

I did not want them to know I was bleeding so had to wipe myself as far as possible out of their sight. I then went to a Protestant church (closer than Catholic) and by chance there was an American Protestant minister there and I asked him if there was a military hospital or American hospital. He tried to get thorough to American Embassy but couldn’t to ask them. By this time I had stopped bleeding and went back to airport and still made flight out. On that experience I too call Charles De Gaulle airport a turd world airport.

In New Delhi at the YWCA (they took men as well as women) I had to share my room with another Indian doctor. This time a dentist. He said he could tell my fortune but had to wait until the sun came up in the morning. He told me I had cancer and that I had been in the military and some other things that I had not told him (unless I talked in my sleep) That too was a little strange.

Another experience I had with Air France was that in South America they have a cheap flight from French Guinea to France. People from all over South American go to French Guinea to catch this flight. The flight started in Peru I believe but I picked it up in Northern Brazil (the town on the Amazon I cant think of its name) There was only three of us passengers on this huge 747 and all they gave us was a stale roll. When I asked if I could have a second one I was told they did not have enough. So much for French cuisine. Maybe they picked up their food in French Guinea along with most of the passengers.

I was only going as far at French Guinea. They had French Foreign Legion at their airport as guards. They wanted each of us three to go in separate taxis into town. I showed them my retired military ID and they let us all go then in same taxi. Maybe they thought I was an official. The hotels were full so we had to stay in a French whore house. People from British guinea would come over to use it. It was a hotel but the girls were upstairs. We could not get a room until three AM when night’s activities were over. I got to my room and I got a phone call and I was told I had to go to a doctor. I was told that the girl from that room was sick. I said there has been no girl in this room. They apologized. I went down stairs as it was now about six Am and there was the other two from airplane and we decided to walk into town to see if we could find open cafe. The other passengers were a European that ran a taxi in New York City. He would work long enough until he had enough money to travel and then he and his wife would travel. The other passenger was a European writer for Mad Magazine. He was delighted with our unusual hotel and said: “this is just like in the movies!” Travel can be fun, well, at least interesting!

If you would like to contact Mac, he is happy to answer e-mails: macsan400@yahoo.com

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This is the first in a series of trip reports sent to the Beetle by Globetrotter Steve who is travelling around South America and Easter Island, the lucky chap! So, if you are planning trip to South America or are interested in knowing more about it, you may find Steve’s trip reports of interest.

The bus to La Serena was comfortable and the road a paved dual carriageway so the journey wasn’t bad. The countryside became slowly drier. Near Santiago roadside stalls were selling bags of oranges, lemons and avocados which looked very colourful. Nearer La Serena the countryside was very dry and the stalls were selling goat cheese.

La Serena is Chile’s second oldest city. It’s quite a small place with lots of old stone churches. They often have towers or spires that don’t match the rest of the building, a consequence of earthquakes I imagine. A mile away is a big sandy bay developing as a sea side resort with high rise buildings but it isn't the season so the beach is empty.

The weather has been cloudy and cool with a cold breeze from the sea. Yesterday I caught a local bus up the Elqui Valley to Pisco Elqui. The valley floor was covered with irrigated vineyards with the vines supported on a lattice of steel wires to keep the grapes about six foot above the ground. The leaves are fresh and green at the moment as they are just starting to grow after Winter. The steep valley sides were bare rock rising to rugged mountains. There was little vegetation and you could see the strata in the rock faces.

At Pisco Elqui the distillery was closed to visitors so I wandered round, had a lunch and caught the bus back. It filled with school children and agricultural labourers going home and I was a bit of a curiosity. Tomorrow I fly to Arica and then head for the altiplano.

Three days in Arica! It is the most Northern town in Chile and is surrounded by the Atacama Desert where it never rains. The driest place on earth.

The flight here went smoothly. After leaving La Serena I had to change in Santiago, which meant backtracking a bit. The Santiago – Arica flight called in at Iquique on the way here which made it quite a long flight. I had a window seat on the right side which meant I had views of the snow-capped Andes all the way here. On the left was the Pacific, and beneath for most of the journey was desert with occasional green valleys in the early stages of the journey. When the plane landed at Iquique I realised my reading glasses were missing. I’d worn them to look at the newspaper earlier in the flight but they had disappeared. I started to panic when they couldn’t be found but then they were recovered from about four rows in front. They had slid off the seat during the landing. It acted as an icebreaker as a group of elderly Chileans bound for Arica on holiday (The city of Permanent Spring) started to joke and chat, which was fun.

The next day in Arica, being a Sunday, everything was closed except the archaeological museum where they had an excellent display including four Chinchero mummies, the oldest ones ever found in the world. The dry conditions have also preserved textiles buried in graves and they are some of the oldest existing textiles in the world – knitting, weaving, braids and knotted items. It’s remarkable how skilful they were.

Today, Monday, turns out to be a Bank Holiday so again nothing is open. Am I ever going to be able to leave here? Having seen most things in town I’ve had time at the beach. It’s warm and sunny in the afternoon although mornings have been cool and overcast.

Arica has a lot of soldiers who stroll round town all the time in desert combat gear. If I find an army surplus store I want a pair of their desert boots. It also has a large harbour. The fishmeal plant has closed, which is a blessing, and there are several large rusting trawlers berthed at the edge of the town. When I went to the harbour there was a flock of pelicans snatching up the waste from the stalls were fish was being cleaned and in the sea were several marine mammals looking very like large sea lions, perhaps walrus. When I walked to the beach there were fish leaping in the sea. They weren't flying fish, more like mackerel, but they jumped clean out of the water. I think something below the waves was having a good feeding session.

Our friend Antonio Macedo phoned and invited us to a special night out in Cruzeiro do Sul in The State of Acre (the back of beyond in Brazil). He wanted to introduce us to 'Daime', a very Amazonian drink that would awaken our minds, or did he mean blow our minds?

We were taken to a small clearing at the edge of Cruzeiro to a big wooden building. Inside was a large wooden table with benches either side on which twenty or so people could sit round. The decorations reminded me of a small Catholic Church, with its figurines of saints and lit candles. The congregation consisted of a few rubber tappers and a complete cross section of the people of the town, in both position and money. The town people and Brazilians generally call this drug “Santo Daime” and mix it into a sort of semi-religious, Catholic ceremony.

The Yawanawa tribe, on the other hand, think religion is nothing to do with Daime, but that it a necessity for the tribe to take it once a month too clarify the mind and get their heads together for the coming weeks. Daime is not banned in Brazil for it is a drug of a very different nature with a very special effect.

A plant that grows in the ground is mixed with a creeper that falls from a tree, thus the symbolism of the drug is that it is the sky mixed with the earth. We filed into this large hut and sat around the central table. The candles were lit around us and we were introduced as visitors who were about to go into the forest to visit the Yawanawa tribe. First Antonio spoke to the people about having great care in demonstrating against the Governor, as there was no point in upsetting him too much or many more would end up in prison, or worse, rather than solve any problems it would just add to them (another story for another time).

The ceremony proper then commenced with a general prayer for God to help them in these perilous times and then we rose and formed a queue as if going to communion. The Daime was poured out of bottles and each of us had a glass given to us and then made our way back to our seats. The drug started to take effect. We had been warned what to expect but we thought it all slightly ridiculous..

There was silence after we sat down and started to wait for Daime to take effect, the sight and smell of the flickering candles, the only light there was to see around this strange church like place. A few people were sick. This seemed an unusual start to what I had been assured was a great experience! I had been slightly unwell during the day and thought I was going to have bad case of the trots and this seemed to be the last thing I needed!

Daime has two effects and one reason it is not on the banned list is that it is remarkably good for any sort of stomach disorder. That was the good news, but the bad news was that while it cured my problem quickly, it also at the same time stopped me from enjoying the Daime in the way that I was expecting; and the real reason that Adam Baines and I were taking Daime this night.

Still, I had more opportunity to observe the others and see their reactions to the drug. Amazingly, it seemed that after being sick outside on the grass, people tended to have another dose of Daime and on being sat down again, this time it took hold. Thoughts seem to whirl around in time and space with all your life with its, good, bad, family, friends, work and pleasures in a maelstrom in which confusion you seem to be about to be engulfed. Over the next hour the confusion lessens and gradually you start to find that everything is falling into place and you become aware of what exactly you should do, to get your life in order.

At any moment during this time, you can open your eyes and feel completely free of the Daime but as soon as you close them you’re back sorting out the files in your head. Finally the drug clears the system after a total of about an hour and a half. The so called congregation sitting quietly outside, enjoying complete clarity of mind and thought, contemplating under a magnificent starry sky, in the tropical warmth, with the singing of the ‘cigarras’ intermingling with the croaking of the frogs. Everyone, whether Indians or locals, thought it extremely important to take Daime so as to get one’s life in order at least once every six weeks. All believed that it made men and women take control of their lives and less likely to have breakdowns or behave in an anti social manner. The next day I was able, with my stomach now fully recovered, to observe without too much of a sickening feeling, the roaches crawling on the ceiling above the frying pan that was cooking my breakfast!

Stanley: I recently (September 2004) visited my friends in Veliky Novgorod, Russia and stayed in their flat for about a week. There is a requirement to submit a entrance document as well as an exit document upon departure. The exit document must be stamped on the back to be valid. My host in Novgorod took me to the local Russian Government office to take care of the necessary exit stamp and we were told that we must register at a local hotel where they will affix the necessary stamp on the back of my exit permit. The one night at a local hotel cost me 310 roubles for a room I did not need or use just to get the required exit stamp.

I discussed this procedure with my host who just shrugged and I understood that it does not make any sense but this is Russia! It’s best to be forewarned for tourists travelling to Russia. I had a Russian accompany me on two trips to the local government office to translate for me otherwise I would not have understood the procedure to acquire the necessary stamp on my exit permit. E-mail: Smsagara2@aol.com

Mac: Retired Military 81 year old Stanley Matachi Sagara has passed on to me these military tips and experiences. He has visited 66 countries. “I like to take capped ball point pens when I travel. It protects ink from accidentally soiling my shirt pocket (it ruined several shirts before I switched). Someone is always lacking a pen when its time to fill out arrival cards. I loan them my ball point pen but retain the cap so that I have some assurance of getting my pen returned. If not the borrower will have an ink stain in HIS shirt pocket.

Carrying buttoned and folded clothes to eliminate wrinkles in clear plastic zip lock bags makes it easy to locate an item of clothing and makes it easy to pack and repack when necessary. The air in these plastic bags kept his suitcase afloat when his suitcase onetime fell in ocean but did not sink. (In asking what travellers carry I find that zip lock bags is one item that is mentioned again and again) Sagara carries a suitcase with roller blade wheels with nylon bearings the one type that is dependable for easy movement over rough services.

He gave me a nylon bath body cloth that he likes. It is 14 inches wide and about '30 inches (l meter) long. It removes dead skin and is invigorating, comes in hard, medium and soft. He says it is long enough to scrub the back completely without having to shower with a friend. In Japan about US$6.00. In Taiwan and China for about half that price. Since it is made of nylon it can be packed damp in another one of those zip lock bags and it will not mildew.

I did not get this from Sagara but read elsewhere that some of the French policemen along Boulevard St Germain in Paris are now on rollerblades (roller skates) and that all trashcans in Paris are now plastic (zip lock?) bags.

Happy Travelling. Mac

Back in January 2004 Martin Wright, one the club’s most sociable regulars at the London Meetings, royally entertained a packed Crown Court with tales of his marathon cycle ride to Australia! Many in that audience will remember his great photos, distinctive narrative style and his thirst for adventure. Well Martin is at it again – this time he’s go back to the land down under to ‘pick up his bike and have a look round’. I think too many cold winter nights provided the motivation to get back on the road! This is the third in an occasional series, based on Martin’s emails, and charts his offbeat approach to the road ahead.

14 September: “Hello everybody… far as I remember the last time I wrote was way back in Exmouth some weeks ago. Quite a lot has happened in that time and I will try to recount some of the moments.

On leaving Exmouth I had a shocking headwind for two days which made me wonder why I left and why I do this sort of thing. Somebody suggested I must be a 'bloody stupid pommie masochist'. No prizes for guessing it was an Australian ! The distances between towns were now as much as 600 kms with a couple of roadhouses in between, which were very convenient in that I could buy supplies and have a shower but the prices were pretty bloody steep and things like bread and milk were usually out of date ! Even Mrs Mac's famous beef pies had usually been warmed through for the 10th time and as a result were almost inedible… One of the roadhouses wanted to charge me $19 for a camping spot on solid ground with no shade – I asked for a discount and was told 'if you don't like it you can xxxx off.' I did xxxx off and about 10kms along I found a very nice spot in the bush for free at which I was later joined by a French family who served me tea made with tea leaves from a teapot. Fantastic !!

Bumped into a few interesting people on the way and was almost bumped into by road-train drivers and some of the less capable caravaners. Throughout the state of Western Australia the government set up many rest areas some of which are for overnight stays – they vary in standard and size. Some you can camp a long way from the road so the noise from the passing road trains is minimal. Some are situated next to rivers which can be good for fishing or swimming but some have crocodiles in so it is advisable not to swim in these unless you are a tour bus driver and trying to impress the females on your tour… Many times I was fed and watered by the caravaners who are obviously very good drivers – sometimes the meals produced were quite amazing. At one stop I was given a starter, main course and a sweet. Beer and wine was also consumed, after I had arrived thinking I would be eating three day old sandwiches and noodles. In Broome I stayed at the Roebuck caravan park and met an English couple who fed me. I was on a mission here to fatten myself up and ate almost non stop for two days – it was a mistake as it made me feel very sick. Further on I met an English hippie called Jupiter who really was from another planet.

I was a little behind time so I had a few big cycling days ahead of me in order to get to Darwin and renew my visa. The ride from Broome to Derby was very hot but allowed me my first sighting of the Baobob tree in various shapes and sizes. The older ones having a huge girth were used by the early settlers or police to imprison the Aboriginals in the hollowed out tree trunks. Also hundreds of thousands of termite mounds abounded, some of which are thought to be over two hundred years old. Quite a few termites in each mound I reckon… The ride from Derby to Fitzroy Crossing, Halls Creek and on to Kununurra was very spectacular. As I was in a hurry I had no time to go visiting some of the famous sites of the Kimberleys – Gibb river road, horizontal waterfall, Geikie gorge, Bungle Bungles, Wolf creek crater. Maybe I will come back some day and purchase a four wheel drive vehicle…

The ride across to Katherine was also very good… was lucky now as I had a tailwind which made cycling very easy. I met six cyclists in two days: a German named Pierre?, an Australian named Ricky and an American named Rob who also camped overnight at the 62 mile camp rest area. I was quite jealous of him as he is riding a bike which I have dreamed of having for sometime – my next bike will be the same. Next day I met three more cyclists. A man & a woman on a tandem and soon after I met Gary who was riding his recumbent cycle. Rode on to Katherine where I had time for a rest day and again fed myself very well and drank a lot of beer. A hot spring ran alongside the Victoria river behind the caravan park… very nice place to relax for a while.

The ride from Katherine to Darwin was with a tail wind so I cruised along quite nicely to within 8 kms of the city centre where I found a caravan park in which to pitch my tent for a few days. I have since renewed my visa so I can stay for another six months which is plenty of time for me to cycle down to Sydney. A little fattening up here then I will be on my way…

15 October: “Hi all ! Have made it as far as Mount Isa in the police state of Queensland. Intended to stay just a couple of days although have now been here for four nights and still not ready to leave. I am staying at a place called, 'tourist haven', which is a backpacker’s hostel and sleeping in a bed for the first time since Perth, about three months ago, was an absolute delight. I had forgotten just how soft and comfortable a mattress can be ! No hard ground, no stones piercing through my sleeping mat, no ants finding their way into my food bag & sleeping bag ! No bugs flying into my tent due to the fact that it can no longer be zipped closed due to a buggered zipper ! Actually the tent is in need of replacing more due to the struggle to get out when I wake up for a pee in the middle of the night. This has resulted in my falling onto the poles and snapping three of them… also fallen onto the tent when returning to the tent after being forced to drink too much beer!

The road from Darwin to Tennant Creek I had travelled two years previously. From Tennant, I road back to a roadhouse called Threeways, across the Berkley highway to Camooweal and on to Mount Isa. Only one roadhouse before Camooweal and a few rest areas with water tanks so I had to carry a lot of food. I met Shirley once again – she is the 72 year old woman who makes me tea all the time and talks at you constantly, often repeating herself! I feel like a verbal punch bag. She often drove behind me on the road for a few kilometres, protecting me she said from the vehicles driving at a high speed. I had to pull over and make her drive on and I was glad to reach Camooweal where I was able to escape her by staying in a caravan park, while she camped down by a river. In Mount Isa I was in the presence of true greatness – his name, Heinz Stuck, who had been cycling since 1963 and visited every country in the world. Overall he’s cycled 500,000 kms and is now age 64 and still going strong ! We drank a lot of beer together and got very, very drunk…

22 October: “Hi all. Since writing from MountIsa I have had a torrid time. It was hard to leave, not because it was a town of beauty or interest – it is a mining town with very little to offer apart from a good salary if you work at the mine. It was hard to leave because I would be leaving my very comfortable bed with the thick, soft mattress. Now it was back to my tent with the broken zips, holes in the fly sheet & inner and holes in the ground sheet. The ride from MountIsa to Cloncurry was a mere 120kms but it was the hardest days riding I have had to date… It was bloody hot; 42c ! I had a headwind which kept my average speed at around 16kph, so it was a long day in the saddle. My water tasted terrible when cold and even worse when warmed by the sun. On arrival in Cloncurry I bought 2 litres of full fat milk which was drunk in very quick time… of course made me feel very sick. At the caravan park, after putting up the tent, it was straight into my sleeping bag and I slept for twelve hours.

Had a rest day before cycling onto Mckinlay, site of the Walkabout Creek Hotel, made famous in the Crocodile Dundee movies. This is a town of about 12 people and one bloody great big Goanna which seems to have the freedom to walk up & down the main street as it takes care of the snakes in the area. It frightened the living daylights out of me ! Next day was a short ride to Kynuna… to here is the site of the Billabong made famous in the Waltzing Matilda yarn by A.B. Paterson. There’s also a famous pub in town called, the Blue Heeler Hotel. A bloody good pub, with many items of clothing hanging from the ceiling and walls left by people travelling through town. Next up a very big ride followed all the way to Winton…167 kms of the most tedious landscape in Australia. The road from one horizon to another seemed exactly the same and as the morning ride was into a headwind, I thought I would be riding well into the evening.

Luckily the wind changed after a short lunch break and the afternoon ride was almost effortless. Winton is an interesting little town and the population has been increased due to a film crew in the area about to make a film. I found good food here and a pub which sells Guinness so I will partake of a few pints this very evening…

Source:

In a forest. In a bee suit. In the middle of Tanzania. 100 miles away from Mikindani. With Tony Herbert’s reputation. Most contrapuntal by anyone’s standards but after spending five days with our beekeeping mentor we knew better than to be surprised by such a situation. Our quest to obtain two stocks of bees had started on Tony’s arrival on the Saturday but this particular episode had begun at 5am that very morning.

The objective of our trip to Masasi, a settlement known for its history of beekeeping, was to purchase two hives and colonies of bees to get the apiary up and flying. With six of us packed tightly into the Land Rover we set off West with the sun on our backs basking in the ever more magnificent African sunrise. After breakfast at Mnazi Mmoja (literally translates as “coconut one” but why, no one seems to know) we reached the Regional Resources Office in Masasi at about half past ten following another particularly bruising journey on the roads of Tanzania. After being promised a meeting with the regional beekeeping liaison you can imagine our surprise to find out he had left the office not more than half an hour prior to our arrival. Needless to say, his phone was either turned off or more likely, out of signal. Had our quest for the holy pair of hives been scuppered by the absence of one man?!

Despite this set back, we were offered a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel by a man named Rodney, the temporary liaison for Natural Sciences in the Masasi district. He knew of a small village called Lipupu, around 50 miles beyond Masasi that was notorious for its beekeeping activities. It was a long shot but with Tony on board we knew that anything was possible and so the decision was made to press on.

Sure enough, faith has its rewards. We found it without any problems and were pointed straight towards the village beekeeper’s house, signified by the array of unused bee hives and interesting looking logs suspended outside his house. One problem… occupant was nowhere to be seen. We were ushered in to the woods by a group of locals keen to show us the hives kept by the owner of the intriguing house and were promised that he was not too far away and that he only left about half an hour ago. Despite being sure that we had heard those words before that day we set off in to the middle of nowhere to investigate the bees that we had been promised. We could not believe our luck when the owner of the hives appeared from within the bush and after many furrowed brows, tense looks and careful negotiation we purchased our two colonies of Apis Mellifera Scutellata, the African honey bee, to be complemented by a further two log hives worth of sting less bees. After all the setbacks of the day we felt we has earned our luck in finding this beecon (sic.) of beekeeping in an otherwise uninhabited part of Tanzania. So, as we set of widdershins, driving in to the rain, spirits were through the roof. The smile on Tony’s face produced by this accomplishment never disappeared for the rest his stay and it really was the culmination of a tiring but wonderfully productive and enjoyable week. For this we will be eternally grateful for the hard work and never ending enthusiasm of one man. Thank you Tony.