And this is how I really get around!

This is a video of Drews and I on our panheads rolling Long Beach and San Pedro. I am very proud of this clip because I don't have much footage of my friends and I riding in the areas we hang out in. Thanks to Toru, Makoto, and Shige for taking the time to work with us on this. Plus, this shows Drews on his ride to and at work which is what Drews is about-  crushing the Vincent Thomas Bridge and the Pedro docks. Drews on his green pan and I on my new version of the pan I crashed on the 405 and Seal Beach Blvd exit in '96. Music is classic Reason to Believe, track is Fr I Fl. Early musical influence for both Drews and I. 

This is how I get around.

I think that my car will soon be driven by someone else so I'm going to post a video of how fun it is to drive in it. You may not get the same feeling that I do when I'm running around in it but it'll be nice for me to look back in a year and play this. I have driven this car as my only mode of transport (non-motorcycle) for the last two years and thinking back, I have had many adventures in it. Every trip is interesting. I'll have to get a new and fun car to replace this one. I really don't think the 47 panel will be as interesting to drive. I really love the panel but I can only go what? 60 max with the new 3-55 rear-end gearing? I'm not into that and my trip to San Diego for Coast Guard certification was a blast apart from 43 mph down and back.

I thought I was going to Ireland! WTF?

Well it's coming near to the end of this leg of the journey. What a trip it has been! I'm not too sure what the craziest moment was. I'm looking forward to getting back so I can get some miles on the panhead and see everyone. I'm sure the babies at my house have grown a lot since I split. I can't wait to give them a squeeze. My flight is at freaking 4 a.m. tomorrow so I guess I'll just drink till then. I spent most of the day at the vintage military shop getting a dozen custom engraved zippos done for Japan. I picked out the images and the sayings last night and some old vietnamese dude is going to spend the next 5 days engraving them and giving them the ol' vietnam era patina. I think they will turn out very cool. I thought this photo of the motorbike trailer was interesting. Not much to it. They just weld on some thick all-thread and hook that trailer up and get to work! The fish merchant was another thing altogether. It looked really cool when it passed by. I didn't see any dead fish. Did you?

Well, unless the plane crashes and I live and walk myself to civilization to let you know what happened, I'll probably put this site off until the Japan trip in December. Who knows? Maybe I'll get stuck in another jam before then. I wouldn't bet against it. See ya. g

A brief overview of the hell that is Jakarta, Indonesia

I left Kuta, Bali, Indonesia and I had a one night layover in Jakarta, Indonesia. It seems that since I went thru a travel agent in Saigon, they got me the crappiest route back to Saigon from Bali. I shouldn't say that Jakarta is bad. It really isn't. I don't care where you are in Indonesia, the people are so nice and so helpful, even if the situation is grave and shitty, the people around you are so laid back and want to give you a hand. That is, unless you work at the ticket counter at Lion Air in the Jakarta Airport. I had a 4 hour flight from Bali and since I had no idea where I was or what to do when I got off of the plane in Jakarta, i just walked outside the terminal and struck up a conversation with the first person I saw. It happened to be an old Indonesian guy who worked at the airport and having been in the Indonesian Navy, had been to the U.S. ports and wanted to discuss each port in detail. I was fine with that. He was really excited to talk about his time in the Navy and speak english so we sat down for a bit and had a chat. It turns out that you go outside of the terminal and hop on an hour long bus to a tourist area called Jalan. It's three streets connected together and full of bars, restaurants, used book shops and hostels. Lots of backpackers hanging out. (How's that salon sign? I won't be getting a haircut there.) I arrived to the bus station and as I stepped off of the bus, I was overwhelmed by all of the taxi and motorbike drivers wanting to give me a lift, all yelling prices and destinations at the tops of their lungs. I made it thru the throng and started walking beside the row of busses, trying to get a driver alone so I could get a fair price. I got to talking to one guy and he told me that the minimum price to get from the bus station to the tourist hotel area was 2.50 u.s. due to the fact that it is pretty far away. I tried to talk him down on the price but he was pretty adamant about the cost and started walking away. I figured 'eh, he must be telling the truth', so I started making small talk as he walked away. I followed him into the terminal food area: a big tent loaded with rolling carts full of nasi goreng and nasi champur, all of the ingredients in bowls in display but unfortunately with flies all over it. That's the way it is here so the driver and I sat down and we each had nasi champur. It was 22,000 rupiah, which is a special tourist rip-off price but I hadn't eaten since the plane so I found a cold rhino can drink (grape this time and the best yet) and chowed down. We finished and I hopped into the cab. I needed a bank so he stopped at a couple banks but I'll be damned if all of the banks in Jakarta close at 3pm and since it was 3:10, I was shit out of luck. I had enough rupiah to pay the cab driver (on a side note, the bus station was in fact directly across the street from this tourist area but he took a long route and gave me the tourist burn) so I said later to the cab and walked hotel to hotel till I found one that took a credit card (there was only one) and I had a room and a hot shower. I got sorted out in the room and made it out to the street at about 7pm. I put down a couple beers with the last of my rupiah with the hope that I had enough for the tax to leave this place in the a.m. My flight was at 7:50 a.m. so I was going to have to get up at 5 a.m. to get a motorbike ride to the bus station ($1.00), the hour bus ride to the airport ($2.00) and I figured a $10.00 tax to leave Indonesia. So I walk around for a bit and hit the sack. Up at 5 a.m. and make it to the bus station and into the terminal and up to the lion air counter. The guy at the counter smiles and tells me that I cannot get on the flight since my visa to Saigon is expired. I explain that I can purchase an emergency visa at the terminal when I land in Saigon. He has a powwow with a few other employees, walks around the terminal, comes back and tells me too bad, I am will not make my flight AND my ticket is no longer valid if I don't make the flight, meaning I will need to buy another ticket. And he also tells me that I only have one more day left on my Indonesian Visa so I am screwed. Each day you overstay a visa, it is $20.00 u.s. He tells me that the only way to fix this is to take the hour bus back to Jakarta and beg the Vietnamese Embassy to grant a temporary visa so I can get a flight the next day. No guarantees, though. I asked for a later flight that day. No later flights. Also, no credit cards. I needed cash. I was out of that almost so I left the terminal and my flight left without me. There were no banks in the terminal so I hired a motorbike to take me and my heavy assed backpack and box of hand carved picture frames about 15 minutes from the airport to a building that housed a few travel agents and luckily, a bank branch. I was able to get money from the bank and that was a relief. I walked next door and sat down with a travel agent. How much to LAX today? Right now. Direct. $900.00 u.s. How much to Saigon tomorrow. One way. Remember, I still have a return ticket from Saigon for September 1st to LAX. So thru the travel agent, another ticket for the next morning is $400.00 u.s. Shit. Thru the Lion counter it's $139.00 u.s. but I had so much trouble with them that I was afraid that they would, thru their incompetence, not sell me a ticket or bump me at the last minute. The whole time they bumped me from my first flight, they were laughing, not really understanding or caring that 1. I could get a temp visa in Saigon airport and 2. missing my flight would cause me to have to buy a whole new ticket to Saigon. Fcuked. Well, it's 9:30 a.m so I catch a motorbike back to the airport, catch the hour bus back to Jakarta, catch a tuk tuk (see photos- it's the three wheeled, enclosed vespa) back to the tourist area and into an internet cafe for the address to the Vietnamese Embassy. I got that written down and caught another tuk tuk from the tourist area to the Embassy. I walked in, sat down at the window and pled my case to the man in charge, a Vietnamese guy who laughed the whole time at my predicament. Needed all kinds of paperwork that I didn't have like the address and room number I was staying at before I left Saigon, the address and room number I would be staying at when I arrived, a copy of my ticket for September 1st, a passport photo (which I had, I couldn't believe it) and 40.00 cash. Well, I happened to have the reciept for the room I stayed in in Saigon before I left but the guy accused me forging it. I didn't have a copy of my U.S. return flight and I wasn't going to be able to get that for him. He shook his head and said "too bad, next!"
"WAIT!", I yelled. "What if I write a statement with all of the facts so you can show the man in charge?" He stood there for a moment and thought about it. He looked around the empty office. Said something in Vietnamese to the security guard. The security guard shrugged his shoulders. He looked back at me and said "ok." He gave me a blank piece of paper and a pen and I went to work. Two long paragraphs later I slid it back thru the window to him. He took some time to read it and slid it back. In his broken english, he got it thru to me that it hadn't expressed how sorry I was that I put myself into this situation on paper. Man, I didn't know what to say to that. I was so beyond being shocked that I asked for another piece of paper and in a nutshell, wrote that I was a total idiot and should not travel, would check myself into an insane asylum when I return to America and I hoped that they would feel sorry for my disasterous vacation and grant me a visa, good for six days so I could exit Indonesia, enter Vietnam, exit Vietnam and enter the U.S. I passed this revised statement thru the slot, he took it, said "Lunch. Two hours. You come back then. No guarantee.", pulled down the shade and that was that. I just stood there and stared at the glass. I was dumbfounded. I had some lemon cookies from the night before so I went outside the embassy to the street and the tuk tuk driver, who was waiting, and I sat there for the two hours and shot the shit as best as we could, eating lemon cookies and hot water out of his bottle. Two hours goes by and the shade goes up.
"Bad news" he says. "Denied." "Just kidding!" Big laugh from the security guard. I just had to laugh. It was all so retarded, I couldn't do anything else. He took my $40.00, gave me my passport back with the new visa inside and told me to have a good day. I was very relieved but knew I had to take that hour bus ride back to the airport to deal with Lion Air again. I wasn't looking forward to that. Well, get it done. I had the tuk tuk guy take me back to the bus station, on the bus for an hour and into the airport terminal and up to the Lion Air window. Oh shit. These guys were something else. I stood there at the window for two hours arguing with them as they ate food, smoked, laughed and had a great time, all the while telling me that the visa was no good, the dates were wrong, I needed a different visa from the embassy and whatever else they could think up. I was starting to think I was going crazy. These bastards sent me to the Vietnamese Embassy to get the new visa, which I could have gotten in Saigon had they just let me on the plane, and then when I get it they tell me it's no good. I finally noticed that one of the employees was not participating in this game and when she came out I cornered her and asked her to help me out. She went inside the terminal and spoke to someone who came out and stepped into the office where all the employees were having a good old time on my account. They saw this guy and they all straightened right up. This guy was screaming at the top of his lungs, out of the 5 of them, a girl and a guy started crying. It was great. I guess they were just fcuking with me and wanted to see if I would give up and leave. The supervisor gave me my passport, ran my card, gave me my ticket, apologized and I there I was, owner of another valid ticket for the next morning's flight. I flipped the 5 employees the bird and walked back to the bus, got on for the hour ride back to the tourist area, found a cheap hostel room and hit the sack. Up again at 5 a.m. for the motorbike ride to the bus station, the hour bus ride to the airport and into the terminal and up to the Lion Air counter to check in. I couldn't believe it. They started telling me that my Vietnamese visa wasn't valid and my Indonesian visa was now expired so I couldn't fly. I just sat down and shook my head. I took a few minutes to calm down, went back to the counter and pulled one person aside, showed them the dates closely on the Vietnamese Visa, explained that the date on the Indonesian Visa was valid for the day I was flying and somehow talked them into letting me thru to the terminal. But it wasn't over yet. Oh no. So before I could go thru to the boarding area I had one more checkpoint for the Indonesians to knock me. They look at your visa and I'll be damned if this guy didn't tell me I owed him $20.00 because I was flying on the last day of my visa. I tried to explain that I was permitted to fly and he looked at me square in the face and said "You want me to cancel your ticket? Give me the money." Screw it. Here's $30.00. You win. Let me the hell out of here. He took it. I walked. I made it on the flight and wouldn't you know it, the freaking pilots invited me into the cockpit halfway thru the flight to hang out. I couldn't believe it. I grabbed my digital camera and shot video of my shocked ass as I went in and LANDED WITH THEM!!!! Are you serious? I couldn't be more stoked. Ok. So that was Jakarta. In a nutshell. The photos are as follows. The top two are of some shaft drive bmw's that I thought Rodney would like. They were just sitting in front of some closed business a street over from the tourist area. The third is of two three wheeled motorbikes. Cool chassis. There was an aftermarket chassis like that you could weld on to your harley in the 40's. A modern version here. The car here was the only V8 that I saw in Indonesia but the two I saw were well taken care of. They sounded tough and the body style was very cool, slightly lowered and both black. The chicken photo I thought was funny 'cause it's on a banner in front of a restaurant but the chicken photo does not make me hungry for chicken. It is plump. I will say that. The next is of a common toilet in Indonesia. That's what you get. Do your business squatting over that bowl, for gods sake don't slip and fall or touch anything and when you are done, there is no toilet paper, you just grab that scooper in that filthy water and splash up on yourself...explaining it is grossing me out. I had to show you the level of disgusting using the toilet is here. 12 on a scale of 1 to 10. The next photo is of naturally green eggs. I had never seen a green egg so I took a photo. I shot a photo of the 'green sands' cans for Roland. They named a drink for you here. It should be in one of those stubby cans, though. I guess you look taller in photos. Then there is a photo of the tuk tuk and a frame by frame when it broke down on the way to the tourist area. A little side of the road clutch cable repair. Those tuk tuk's are Vespa powered and too cool. I loved it. As we were reparing the cable, the locals ran up to have their photos taken. The one guy insisted that I shoot a pic of him posed down on the chair. I loved it. The locals are just great. So friendly. Not one frown in the whole month I have been here. Nobody angry. It's so different from home. People are just so cool to each other here. Lastly, a model of minivan not offered in the U.S. which I thought had a cool looking body style, some green eggs, the side of the van is for Jason Ryder. The power of underwear! And the last video is cruising in the tuk tuk. I had to. It is just too cool. It's coming up to the end of my trip here. Let's see what happens next. I'll be as surprised as you.

Could this be the high point of a crazy trip?

This was pretty awesome. I was invited into the cockpit of the jet we were on... at 37,000 FEET! I'm sure it is pretty obvious I am super stoked. It almost makes up for the torture I had to endure at the hands of the Lion Air ticket agents and the Indonesian Visa guards. No, it did make up for it.

a night out with the international crew and Ricky from the hotel

I took Ricky who works at the hotel out to all you can eat tapas last night. We met up with a small group of people that I met the night before. Joseph was from England, Amy was from South Africa, and there was another guy who was from Italy I think. I forget his name but a cool guy nontheless. They just came from Laos and will be in Bali for another few days and then they are off to Darwin, Australia where they plan on picking fruit for the next six months. Jesus! The night ended in a neighboring alley at a small shop called 'Green Box' with a tray of Arakin front of us, which is a seriously strong liquor similar to ouzo, my favorite licorice liquor. The shots were only .50 u.s. and we each had 5 or 6. I tried to read when I got back to the hotel but I was a mess. Today I had a motorbike guy take me to Denpasar so I could buy some hand carved picture frames. I stopped off at a vespa restoration shop on the way back and shot a video for Drews of the ghetto restoration process. They purchase Thai repop parts for the bikes. I asked him about the difference between Indian parts and Thai and he said Indian is junk and the Thai is licensed by Piaggio. The finished product is very, very nice. A completely restored '60's vespa is under 2k u.s. shipped to Los Angeles. That is very cheap. I have a few other odds and ends to buy before heading out to Poppies to sell my board and pack up for the flight to Jakarta in the a.m. One night there and two in Saigon and I'm back in good ol' U.S. of A.

drunk australians like fire

I was in Billabong across from my hotel, upstairs, on the couch in front of the big screen tv they have set up and snapped a photo of the row of boards. I was foaming. In the evening one of the employees puts on a recent billabong flick with the directors audio on so I sit my ass down like it's my living room and watch. They don't seem to mind at all. Actually, they come up one at a time and hang out. The boards with the artwork were at another shop and they reminded me of Ross' Morgans painted boards so I snapped a photo of them. He did a shipwreck series one year which was very cool. The two vespas were just on the street. The red one was a piece of crap but the painted one was nuts. This guy had a matching helmet for himself and his kid! There are a few shops here with nicely painted vespas in the display windows. I'll try to get a shot of those if I can. The vid is of the fire dancer guys in front of the restaurant I was at. Most of the nicer restaurants along Legian Road hire this crew to swing fiery ropes around. Without fail, some drunk Australian guy will come up and try to grab one of the flaming ends. The flame guys hate this and I saw one of them hit a guy with an end. I had to get a shot of them. I have a few more days here and then off to Jakarta for a night, two days in Saigon and back to sunny California. I'm thinking LaSelva Beach. I am really missing Northern California. Where from there? I have no idea and that is a nice way to live for now.

I am having motorcycle withdrawls.

I am missing my motorcycle. I love this photo.

...and I thought my old job had management issues!

This Kartika Plaza Hotel place is brutal! I saw this sign on the door leading to the personnel department. Damn. I guess if you are willing to submit to a rectal swab at work, you certainly aren't going to complain about some overtime or working weekends. Good way to weed out the troublemakers! I shot over to the Plaza again last night to catch the beach screening of 'A Fly in the Champagne', the new Irons surf movie but my damn hotel didn't fix the clock after the last power outage so I was an hour late and the movie was an hour long. Plus it rained on my the whole ride over. Still, I'm in Bali so no big deal. I went out to the beach anyway to see if there was anything going on and they were setting up a balinese rockabilly band on the beach. The lead singer was one of the Kuta lifeguards, I was told. I did like that a little kid jumped up on stage and danced thru a couple songs and the singer ended up picking the kid up and telling him to get off the stage. That was funny. So much for family fun. I got to talking to two girls who I recognized from the night before at 'The Drifter' premier. Tara and Ray. They had led the beach yoga before the movie. I asked how that went and they said nobody showed but the orphans that came for the movie. The hotel must have kicked all the orphans out after the film because I didn't see one orphan walking around. They girls were really funny and we had a good laugh. Hopefully I'll run into them Saturday at the Matt Archibold documentary. Ray has sarcastic humor that I really like. My mother and Carlos have the same dark wit. H-bomb does too. But then he shows you the duct tape and carpet in his trunk and the joke has gone too far. Anyway, they gave me a lift down to Poppies and I walked up to the hotel and ordered the Nasi Champur, a Mi Goreng and a melon drink, posted up in the hotel and read half of Gorky Park and one quarter of The Exorcist III. Exciting! Or not. The Macho Man is a powder that they sell where I get my melon drink. I like that it says 'top instant'. HA! How much is that?

The surf is small but the surf movies are good.

It turns out my illness was due to bad noodles and sauce, not deadly mosquitos. That's a relief. Last night was a good time. I got a pass to the screening of the Steele/Machado film 'The Drifter', which was run at the Kartika Plaza Hotel. It was a very nice affair with jim beam served before and after. There was no q and a but I was able to corner Taylor Steele after and pick his brain for a while. On my way over I took a photo of my favorite surfer, Kassia Meador, wrapped on a quicksilver delivery van. I bought a pass to the screening of her new film, 'Dear and Yonder' for the end of the week there at the Kartika. I also got a shot of a custom gas tank off of a rigid triumph that was parked on the side of the road. I would have taken a shot of the whole bike but the owner's friend decided to jump on and tear ass down the street. I was late for the show so I took off after the tank photo. That ran till 10pm. I caught a ride on a motorbike back to the hotel and dug into some Nasi Champur and the new Mario Puzo book I just traded the Dumas book for. Tonight the film 'Fly in the Champagne' is screening on the beach for free at 9 so on comes the deet and off I go. I'll catch a surf at dusk, come back for the usual dinner and hitch a ride over to the show.

Off to Lombok and really, really good waves

So anyways, I had to split because at that moment I was going to sit or heave. Pick one. I shot back to the room, took an immodium and a tradol, laid down and pulled a little shao-lin don't puke focusing. Don't move a muscle cause the medicine will come up and we'll be at square one again. I woke up a few minutes ago and was able to walk here without any stomach drama. I hope it was just the greasy chicken carbonara I ate last night topped off with a chocolate and a vanilla shake. I'm crossing my fingers. So last we spoke I was just getting my debit card sorted out. I had purchased my earplugs and the guys at the hotel gave me a ocean and earth boardbag that fits the 6'2" I bought used. I had to get a new plastic zipper put on but that $5 saved me $40 off of a new one. I picked up a new long sleeve rash guard off of Poppies also. I saw something cool at the Hurley store, where I stopped to look for the earplugs. Little Scott Stopnik was posted up on the wall in an art exhibit they put together on the second floor. I took a photo for ya. I told one of the girls who works there I knew him and she gave me a kiss. HA! Nice to see someone I know here even if it is just a photo. Carito had called the hotel the night before and told one of the three guys at reception that she would be arriving the next night so I waited for her to see if she wanted to shoot out to Lombok by rickety auto ferry and on to Kuta Lombok by mini-bus. She showed up and was all for it. As long as she was back by the 17th to split Bali to meet her guy somewhere, she was on board. We hit Legian street, which is the other main drag that cuts across Poppies II to make a reservation for the ferry and for pickup the next morning at 6:30 a.m. Got the pickup with no snags. We were driven in a cramped 8 person rickety minivan to the nearest port and waited on the street with a crowd of about 600 people for the ferry to start boarding. I didn't sleep very well the night before so I wanted to try to get a sleeping berth from one of the ferry crew. I had heard a rumour that I could ask anyone in a uniform for a berth and they would rent their own bunk out to you for a small fee. There was a big crowd forming on the dock as the ferry dropped it's roll-on auto ramp. Carito is a charger so she jumped into the middle of it waving our tickets and as they decided who was going to board this grossly overloaded ferry, she cajoled her way past the crowd and freaked the gate guy out with her broken columbian/english. She got thru and somehow I shimmied past all these yelling people and made it thru the gate, up the haggard looking auto ramp and up into the gaping maw where they park the cars. I felt like I wasn't doing my part so I hit up the guy for the berth and he led us up to the wheelhouse deck and into a 4 berth cabin. 100,000 rupiah was his first offer. Carito stepped up, being the brutal negotiator that she is and got it knocked down to 50,000 rupiah, or $5. We each had a bunk to ourselves plus two to spare so of course, she bolted out to try and sublet the other two. She dragged two super hot French girls in to look at the cabin but they balked so I calmed her down and told her to look at the bright side. At least if the ferry rolls over, it will be a quick death for us. Everyone else was piled upon each other in the aisleways and on anything they could stretch out on. It was wild. They would be tossed into the sea and devoured by sharks. We always had the chance of getting Poseidon on it. I would play the part of Ernest Borgnine, of course. So we got comfortable and woke up 4 hours later sweating and half boiled alive from the humidity in the cabins. The ferry arrived in port and we were off to find our shuttle to Kuta Lombok, another 2 hour ride across the island. During the ride we got to talking to a New Zealand couple who were on vacation from their boutique winery. Rough life. Very nice people and they had the same list of hotels we had so we searched the small town of Kuta Lombok together for pair of rooms or a room to share since every place was booked solid for the next week. We finally found a place called Kens Hotel. They were willing to rent us the employee quarters. Dirty but accomodation nonetheless. There was only one and of course Carito was first to the desk and had the transaction on lock within moments at a reasonable price. The New Zealanders were assed out by the other crowd that arrived in a shuttle moments before. We offered to split the room with them and they accepted. After a moment getting settled, the hotel opened up one of their nicer rooms for them so they hopped on that and we continued on in the employee quarters. That night the New Zealanders came out to dinner with us. We found a place called Lombok Cafe, right on the beach where they offered a Baracudda steak with all the fixins for 45,000 rupiah. Needless to say I ate that all three nights we were there. It was cooked with some special indo bar-b-q sauce that I could have bottled and sold at home. A few Bintangs and we hit the hay, ready to go exploring by motorbike the next day. The morning found Carito dashing across the street to see if there was any accomodation available at a little homestay/cottage we had been turned away from. Of course, she weaseled us in and we had a very nice room with hot shower and flushing toilet for 22,000 per night with bannana pancake breakfast included. We moved our stuff, rented a motorbike and we were off thru the Lombok hills towards a beach called Mawun. It turned out to be a picture perfect bay with a right and a left on each side of the opening. Not working that day but we were told by some Germans we met who were off surfing around that the next beach, Maui, was hitting and was good. It was getting late so we decided to head back to town and to hit Maui in the morning. We did that and oh shit. Look at the video. I wish I would have had everyone there with me. It was a solid swell so only the left was working but I saw during the smaller sets that on a smaller swell, there was a head high peak that rolled in with a perfect right and left bowler peeling right into the bay. The rights on the other side of the opening to the bay weren't working due to the tide but they were large and breaking a bit like San Ono on a really, really big day. Spent most of the day there and then back down the road towards town. It's a 40 minute ride from Kuta Lombok to Maui beach. The road is half paved, half dirt rutted from ox carts and totally dangerous. I didn't take this road at night but I guarantee someone has died taking one of the hills too fast. There are ruts, water buffalo, chickens, rabid dogs, monkeys, giant rocks, giant holes, and super steep inclines and declines. Add an incredible view everywhere you look and it's almost impossible to keep your eyes peeled for either one of those animals bolting out of the bushes to take you out or riding into a hole large enough to stop you dead in your tracks. Another think I noticed is these Indonesians live way way way below any poverty line we might draw. When we stopped the motorbike for a photo, little kids would come out and ask for water, not money. Every little village we passed thru, groups of kids would gather and wave as we rolled in and out. Everyone smiling and wanting to share the english words they know. Certainly the nicest and friendliest country I have ever been to. We made it back to the hotel just before nightfall and ran over to the restaurant where they have the incredible barracuda dinner. We caught a beautiful sunset, drank our share of Bintangs and took a cruise down the coast for an hour or so towards the largest hotel in town, Novatel Resort. This place is really well designed. Almost like a Gaudi sculpture. Full of spires and high peaked thatch buildings, temples around all of the bungalows..very nicely done. On the road I would get behind a slow moving truck or bike and kill our lights so other than the lights ahead of us, it was pitch black aside from the stars above. More stars here than on a good night in the desert. Breathtaking sky and you could hear the surf pounding on the shore. After an hour of cruising around on the motorbike, we headed back to the hotel. I had purchased the dvd's Ulu 32 and Bruno from Kuta Bali and Carito wanted to see Bruno but we didn't have a dvd or tv in our room. There was one in the hang out area at the hotel reception. We took the video up front and it was packed with all of the backpackers and tourists. There was a long table that seated about 15 people that everyone was sitting at with the dvd setup on a bookcase right at the head of the table. I asked everyone if they minded that I put on a movie and nobody seemed to care. There were about 4 french and spanish girls, 5 german guys, 4 french guys and the whole family who owned the hotel sitting around. I went up and fiddled with the wires, got the dvd in the player and hit play. I took a seat right up front and Carito sat beside and behind me a bit. I hit the volume to drown out the guy playing guitar and oh shit. I haven't been so freaking uncomfortable in a very, very long time. The movie is one step away from a gay porno. At one point it was full frontal dong for about 10 seconds on the screen and I could only guess what the French and Spanish girls were saying as they rushed out irate and swearing in their native languages. These people weren't expecting this. It was so funny, I died laughing when we made it back to the room after it was over. On a side note, the germans loved it. I'm not surprised. That was our last night and we were picked up at 9:30am by the shuttle to take us to the ferry and the ride back to Kuta Bali. We got a lot of icy stares when we were paying our bill. I ended up giving the dvd to the germans. HA! Figures.

this is how long you can sit when you feel like shit

Before I get into the gory details I must share some of the dreams I have been having. I think it's due to the deet mosquito repellent I rub into myself morning, night and afternoon. Either way the dreams I am having are wild and so vivid, I wake up and wonder if it was real or not. The latest was great. I was outside of a house in a neighborhood just south of Trask on Beach Blvd. in Westminster, CA, where I live. I was standing with some people in the front yard and two indonesian guys came up and asked if I wanted to buy some cocaine. I said no and turned to the people I was standing with and told them I suspected it was guys sent by the Westminster P.D. trying to set me up. I split from that place and next I'm riding up to a bar on the Kill Yourself pan/shovel. I'm going to throw up right now so I will have to continue this later. Ok I'm back. So a group of guys pulls up on their newer bikes and I tell the bouncer, who is standing outside that I suspect it's the P.D. again and start rolling my bike back to split. The new guys ride up and take offense to this and block my way with their bikes. One guy gets off and grabs my arms from behind and the other guy steps up in front of me. I reach back and pluck out the eye of the guy behind me and then reach forward and do the same to the other guy. They lie writhing on the ground in the parking lot as I back my bike out and split. THEN I'm standing on a street with Drews and a 1960's Customline van pulls up, faded blue, and stops on the street. The side barndoors open and it is packed with the about 6 of the Hells Angels from all of the Roth Posters. Buzzard, etc. Buzzard jumps out and gives Drews a hug and pulls him into the van where I watch them all talk for a while. Drews then jumps out and pulls me up to the van. He says that the Pres has some words of advice for me. I look in and George Christie is sitting there among the older Angels from the posters. He motions me to jump in and I do. He looks me square in the face and tells me "Next time get some punches in. You pluck a guys eye out and it's all over. Where's the fun in that?" I agree and get out. I woke up thinking, "shit, did I poke a guys eye out last night?" I can usually trace my dreams to things that happened to me the previous days. I was wishing I could find a copy of the Deadwood series in Saigon so that takes care of popping the guys eyes out. I also came across a Vietnamese guy in the backpacker area who was totally covered in tattoos. I asked him if I could take a photo with him for posterity. He agreed and when I looked on his back, I was stunned. He's got no idea what the tattoo means at home. To him, he's just saying 'screw society'. That's only one of many really cool dreams I have had. Probably pretty boring to the reader but they are so vivid, I actually feel like I was in the van talking to these guys. It's crazy. The brain is so cool.

the battle with citibank operators

The next few days are spent walking around Kuta trying to get Carito straightened out with her diving trip she is taking, hanging out on the beach and trying to kick the ear infection. The ringing is unbearable and the pain is painful. Still, I am in Bali. So Carito gets dialed in to head up to Northern Bali where she is meeting a guy so while sitting on the beach I strike up a conversation with a guy from the Santa Cruz area who is here surfing and he tells me what I need to know to get the ferry over to Lombok and off to Lakey Peak, where I plan on staying for a while. Talk to some people there and maybe head to Timor. Well, cancel that. Carito is getting her stuff together and I can't for the life of me find my goddamned debit card. WTF? I just had it. I never put it down, ever. It is always in my back pocket. I value that thing more than my passport! Well, it's not here. I still have my credit card as backup, thank god. Carito and I head over to the local bank and I'll be damned if the freaking card didn't expire in 2006! I never use it and haven't ever looked at the...ah forget it. I cut that thing in half and I talked Carito into spending her last night getting me sorted out with her Skype account. Making a call here is totally expensive-.80-1.00 per minute and I know that calling Citibank is going to take a while. We got over to the internet cafe and I how wonderful! I connected right away with a helpful and caring Citibank operator who understood my plight and truly wanted to help! Oh happy day. Carito wisely brought along the card for the hotel so I gave the hotel address, phone number and even the hotel owners email address to the operator and she assured me that a new card was being sent out right then! She would personally put it in the mail and it would be there by Thursday. It was Monday night. Well, I checked my pockets and I still had about 11 bucks in Rupiah so hell. No problem. A couple days posted up in the room, eat cheap. No beers. I can wait it out. Carito offered to loan me some cash but I put up my hand and proudly declined. I can wait a couple days. She was off in the morning and I did the usual. Off to the small cafe down the street for a bannana pancake and some strong coffee. About 4 bucks. That leaves me 7 bucks. Have a 3 buck dinner and I'm down to 4 bucks. One day to go. Thursday comes. And Thursday goes. No card and not nearly enough money left to make a call to Citibank. The three guys that work at the desk are aware of my delimma so they offer to pick up some dinner when they go to get there own. The usual meal here morning, afternoon, and night is either nasi goreng: spicy rice with a small bit of chicken, mi goreng: spicy noodles with a small bit of chicken or nasi champur, my personal favorite: rice with some sauce, bit of chicken and a small piece of tofu. Sometimes you get a little piece of eggplant if a piece accidentally gets caught up with the other stuff as the cook puts it together. The meal is wrapped up in a folded piece of construction paper and you eat with your hands. Mi goreng costs 5k rupiah, or 50 cents, nasi champur costs 75 rupiah, or 75 cents. I got down with the nasi champur. I also bought a can of melon juice with a rhinocerous on it. It tastes exactly like fresh honeydew melon. There is a photo of both. Well, Friday passes. I get one meal. Saturday passes. I get one meal. Sunday passes. I get one meal. Still no card. I pool all of my money and I have just over one dollar left. I head out to the internet cafe and get the number for Citibank. I then go to a couple local vendors and find one who will let me use their phone to call a toll free number. The next ten minutes I spent trying to convince the citibank employee that I was on a borrowed phone and she had typed my password in wrong, transposing two letters. If I could have reached thru the phone, I swear to god. I finally convinced the lady and she put me on hold. What? AAAAAAAAH! All the while the phone's owner is trying to get me to give her the phone back but I am almost there. They are going to tell me where the card is! Almost there! 5 minutes later the lady gets back on the phone to tell me that the address I gave her was incorrect and that UPS tried twice to deliver but could not. "Where is the card now?", I ask. "I don't know", she replies. "What do I do now?", I ask. "I can't tell you", she replies. I'm beside myself at this point. After I explain to her what a shitty situation I am in, she asks me if I want the tracking number. No. I don't want any possible solution to my problem. What's wrong with you lady? I get that out of her and hang up. I hand the phone back to the lady, who is visibly upset. I thank her profusely and make my way back to the internet cafe. 30 cents to use the internet long enough to get the address of UPS in Denpasar, where my card MIGHT be. No dinner that night. Monday morning rolls around and I head out to the road to get a motorbike driver to take me to the Denpasar office. Problem is I only have 10,000 rupiah left, or $1.00. It's past the airport and when I got here, it cost me 3 bucks just to get into town from there one way. I'm needing a round trip ticket here. I finally find a guy who is willing to take me. I don't think he knows how far it is and if I get the card from this office, which is no guarantee, I plan on kicking this guy some extra. Can't make that promise, though. This is my last buck. Were off and 30 minutes later we pull up to the UPS office. Up to the counter and I show my tracking number. The lady shrugs her shoulders and walks into the back. I follow her to the doorway and watch as she digs into a big pile of boxes. I'm looking for a credit card here. After a few minutes she reaches the bottom of the pile and pulls out an envelope with my name on it! Bastard! I have a look and the stupid Citibank operator didn't put the complete address. Whatever. I take out the card and try it in the closest atm. Nope. A second atm. No dice. It seems I need to call citibank to get it activated. I just have to laugh. I ask the guy to take me back to the lady with the phone. I'm leaving it up to her. If she says yes, ok. I get the card activated. No, I break the fcuking thing go sell my surfboard and my ipod on the street. We get back and the lady is in a great mood and hands the phone over to me! Nice! I get Citibank on the phone and again, with the password! Just activate the damn card so I can go to the atm. What do you mean it's not an atm card? They didn't send me an atm card, they sent me a credit card. I don't have a credit account with Citibank. WTF? Who decides how much $ I get? I just want my own money at this point. Citibank waves a magic wand and tells me to go to a bank and hangs up on me. WTF again. I cross the street to the closest bank and they don't do cash advances there but the other branch does, a mile away. I get the feet going and make it to this other branch. I show my card and my passport and they hand me money. I should have been more careful with that damn debit card.

an interesting change of events

Third day and i'm getting it together. I wake up around 6am and shit. There's that motorbike guy again sitting in a chair at my door. The curtain is open so he can see right when I wake up. I slowly roll over and go back to sleep, hoping he'll leave. I get a few more hours sleep and open my eyes again at 9. Damn. The guy is still there! I have got to piss badly but I really don't want to deal with this guy so I lay there for another hour in pain with one eye cracked waiting for him to make his exit. Finally I see him get up and walk away. I hear a scooter and BAM. I'm up, I take a desparately needed leak and bolt out the door. At the reception area a French guy is talking about buying a surfboard with the owner. I chime in that I want to do the same so after the customary greeting, were off. All the while I'm just waiting for the motorbike guy to come busting out of the bushes to join us. I have waited him out so I get a brief reprieve. We get a bite to eat and hit about 10 shops. I can buy a board at any of these shops. The majority on the used racks are what I ride anyway. 6'3", 2 1/4, narrow as hell. The frenchie though, of course he needs a fish, which is not too popular here and not on the used racks at all. We check every single used board rack before he finally finds a new board and gets to haggling about the price and he also gets a big-assed board bag, extra leash, rash guard, track top, etc. Good god, man. Each thing he's haggling on. Forever. Oh shit. From my seat watching this unfold I see the motorbike guy slowly riding past the shop. Damn! I pull a board in front of me to block the view and he passes. We finally get out of there and hoof it back to the hotel, drop our stuff and wait a bit. The frenchie has another frenchie coming in. This guy shows up and off we head for Kuta Beach and a break called 'halfway'. The beachbreak here on a crappy day is better than a really good day at home so we got out and there was a small crowd but not too many people bobbing around. I do need to say the local talent here is so good, it's crazy. Every section they kill it, airing out of every wave. Even the littlest kids are out there ripping. So anyway, I get a few waves and then a clean up set comes thru and I get thoroughly thrashed. My eardrum pops again and I get all disoriented. I can't see straight and it hurts like hell. I don't know if I am coming or going. I grab my board and just hope I'm pointed in the right direction. I make it back to the beach and have a seat for a half an hour or so before making my way back to the hotel around 4pm. That's it for me so I decide I need a set of good earplugs if I am going to be in the water. I fall asleep and wake up at 3am to that damn motorbike guy humming outside my door. Shit. I roll over and I can't sleep until 6am. The guy is still sitting there. He's gone when I wake up though so I get moving quick and get myself out of there. From the reception area I can see him posted up at the end of the alley so I lurk back to the rear of the hotel and hop the wall (some genius has cemented broken glass along the top of the wall so I have to be very, very careful. I would rather take a chance slicing myself up than deal with that motorbike guy. I get over and make my way to Poppies Lane and the travel agencies to inquire about the ferry to Lombok and Dili, hoping to get over to Lakey Peak. Inside one of these agencies I run into a really nice Columbian girl named Carito who looks so much like my old girlfriend Danielle that it is almost creepy. Fortunately Danielle was very beautiful so Carito and I decide to go off and have a drink and discuss our travel plans. She's travelling alone thru Indonesia also. Before we part she tells me she is paying 14 dollars for a room with hot water, ac, a beautiful pool, etc. and she says there might be vacancies. We go by and there are no vacancies but out of nowhere she offers to split the room with me. Off I go to get my stuff. That first night I dreamt I was on speed and as I stood over a sink in a dirty old house, I watched pincher bugs crawl out of the skin on my forearms. In my dream I was thinking "hmm, this is what it's like on speed?" I had also picked holes in my face too. I woke up with a big mosquito bite on my cheek. Little did I know the bottom was about to drop out on me.

off to kuta bali

u

So I got out of Saigon on the 29th, 4 connections later and I'm in Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia. I had planned on staying in Saigon for a surgery to repair my ruptured eardrum and a layup of 3 weeks. After taking a tour of the local hospitals, I decided that I would rather do the procedure myself with some bactine and some sharp q-tips than lay in one of those dirty places for any length of time. There is really not much to do in Saigon so I figured, where else would I like to spend the next month? It was another grand to change my flight in any way so I dropped the 400 bucks and now here I am. There I was, I mean. On the 29th I was in the Denpasar airport, standing on the tarmack outside of the plane 'cause in these countries you are actually standing on the runway outside of a 747 while another takes off 500 feet from you. My flight landed at 1:30 am so I ran with the crowd up to the ticketing platform and just as I spotted the money changing office, they turned out the light and walked out the door. Shit! The town of Kuta Beach is about 20 minutes on the back of a motorbike and without the local currency, the Rupiah, you will get ripped using dollars and the walk into town is sketchy, dark, and looong. I only had two one-hundred dollar bills in my back pocket that I was meaning to change over to Rupiah so I found a dark corner and tore my backpack apart for some smaller bills. Stuffed into some shorts at the bottom of my bag were three one dollar bills! Stoked. I got all my crap stuffed back into backpack and then out to the throng of taxi and motorbike drivers, calling out to everyone who looks foreign. I had to get there in three dollars and had no idea how much to get to Kuta from the airport. The prices change at 1:30 am since the only other option is walking an hour and a half into town so I was getting hit with 50k, 80k, and even 100k Rupiah (one u.s. dollar is equivalent to 9800 rupiah). I pulled one motorbike driver to the side and we did a bit of negotiation. I offered three u.s., he feigned indifference, we parted, he countered, I snubbed, he waved the helmet, I showed the money, he accepted, I hopped on and we were off. Holy crap. There was still lots of traffic on the road, even at that late hour and this guy was a madman. Pulling across the center line to pass, directly into the path of whatever was coming up. Even if we didn't need to pass, he passed. I almost wished I had passed. We finally made it into Kuta and geez, it's so completely built up, it's hard to take it all in. There's a Hard Rock Cafe on the main road along Kuta Beach and Poppies II and Legian, two of the main streets in Kuta are now built out to 110 percent. Shops, Starbucks, McDonalds and in between, the local Indonesians trying to make a buck off of noodles, hats, belts, surfboards, wooden dongs, bumper stickers and whatever else they think the tourist may buy on their walk to and from the beach. So I told the driver to take me to the cheapest hotel in town. He dropped my right at the entrance to town and pointed and drove off. He wasn't pointing at a hotel, he was pointing at nothing so he could leave me wherever and get back for another fare. Dick! I started walking. First hotel. Full. Second hotel. Full. 15th hotel. Full. Damn. I was totally lost, totally tired and sick of walking. All the while, guys are standing along the streets offering rides, weed, etc. I didn't know who knew what so I just kept walking. Another 10 full hotels and I think I hit every one. No dice. Walking back down Legian at 3 am, a guy hit me up and said he knew of a hotel cheap and with a vacancy. I was out of $ and told him but he said pay later so I hopped on the back and off we went. The first place he stopped was the first place I was told no vacancy. Then he went to another I had already gone to. And another. "Dude", I said, "I already went to all these places. " So we start riding and after a few more lefts and rights, he pulls into the darkest alley I have seen yet. He's doing 15 mph down this alley and I say shine and slip off the back and onto my ass. He stops, looks back, laughs at me and points to the end of the alley. He pulls to the end of the alley and out of sight and a light comes on. I see cars and a sign with rates on it so I get off of my ass and pull a carol-anne. I go towards the light. The driver is in negotiation with the hotel owner for a 10 dollar room. I tell him I'll take it and off the motorbike driver splits. I get my key and go into my room. No a.c., no sheets, no sink or hot water. Cool. No mosquito repellent either so not cool. They were unmerciful but I wrapped myself in my towel and didn't wake up till 10 the next day. Who is sitting outside my room? None other than my motorbike driver from the night before. Creepy but he has a motorbike and I need to change money and get my bearings. I get up, clean up the best I can and hitch a ride with him to change a hundred. I pay him a few bucks for the night before and a few for the day and we're off. We finish riding around midday and I tell him thanks and I'll see him another time. He wants to schedule another ride around Kuta but I'm thru with that. I want to go to the beach. I tell him no a few times and he splits. Off to the beach. There are waves and there is beer and there is sun. Ok. Things are getting better. My first wave bodysurfing and pop. My eardrum lets water into my ear canal, I get completely disoriented and have a hell of a time getting back to the beach. I almost have to ask for help to lead me back up to the sand. As for the photos, one is of what you need to get here, one is of a full sized panhead carved out of wood and hanging in a bar somewhere here and another is of the first hotel I stayed at. It was primitive as hell.

a video and photos of motorcycling in saigon

So the days consist of getting up at 3 am because I can't get a sleep rhythm with my ear infection, walking across the boulevard to get nitro coffee and walking over to the local vespa repair shop to spend the morning. I read the rest of the day away or play guitar. The gas tank was on a yamaha or a kawasaki. The big-twin looking bikes usually have a bit of flair. This is a great airbrush of a chick with a machinegun. Represent! Also, here is a photo of a tiger gas cap. I hear it's going to be all the rage next year. I'll get one for me and one for Poon cause he has the eye of the tiger anyways. The longer I hang here the more I realize that all of us in the U.S. are not even close to committed motorcyclists. The Vietnamese start riding on the way home from the hospital! They put their kids, pets, grannies, sheet of glass, groceries, tank of propane and whatever else will tie or strap on and head from point a to point b. The kids usually start riding alone to wherever they need to go from about 10 years old on. And they ride till they are old and die. No car ever in their lives. I saw a guy transporting snakes and a gecko on his scoot yesterday. I saw 10 propane tanks. A drum of gasoline. I knew it was a drum of gas cause it was leaking and I could smell it. I saw a guy with 6' X 3' sheets of glass destroying his lane! He was owning it and smiling all the way! I saw two babies and three adults on one scooter. Super hardcore. No paint, no WM1, no bates, just two wheels gas, air and a spark. Damn. I give these people mad respect. And they never flip each other off when they get cut off. Ever. Tonight I'm going to video the rats.

last night before flight

Here is a video from my drive up to the airport from Pnobscot, Maine. This is one of Maryanne's family homes. Beautiful location with one of two saltwater pools in the state.

suspension due to boring life

It looks like I'm going to discontinue the blog since I am off the ship till next year. (hopefully I can get back on for another voyage somewhere other than westminster, ca.) It seems that my life is actually pretty boring unless I'm risking my neck. I guess my last post will be this. I'm in Nha Trang, Vietnam looking at a really dirty hospital. The bus ride was 12 hours to get here. I had to walk a mile with all of my shit from the ship to get to the hospital. It was so dirty and unsanitary, I walked in and out cause I didn't want to catch anything and walked back to the bus scheduling place. I bought a seat for the 8pm 12 hour bus back to Saigon. Shit. The hospital in Saigon is the cleanest I have seen but there aren't as many french doctors as there were a few years ago. I'm sure the Vietnamese doctors are good but I ain't taking the chance. Since I don't have insurance, it's cheaper to come here to get my eardrum fixed for a couple grand than take the 20k life ending bill that is sure to come after a surgery of any kind in the states. The damn ear won't heal in this sweltering heat. I'm short on cash and have 8 hours till the bus gets here. Life is an adventure, whatever happens. All I can do is sit on the curb, smile, and shake my head. Thanks for all the nice comments you have left while you watched my sailing plans implode.

I have got to say that this Vietnam place sucks to be stranded in. It's hotter than hell and so humid you end up swimming in your own sweat most of the day. I'd split but recent developments at home have left me with an empty bank account so now I'm too poor to leave and too poor to stay. No matter what, I can always take a step back and laugh at how crazy the situation turns out. I'd bang my head against the wall but I don't have insurance.

skocich peninsula drive

Tony and I took a nice drive up the peninsula to skocich and a nice view of the open ocean. Here is what I found.

well this was unexpected

So 7 days ago and two days out of Boston enroute to Bath, Maine I came down with a nasty ear infection. It seems I popped my eardrum again descending into either Seattle or Newark airport and when water got into it up in the rigging, it became infected. I tried to recuperate down in the bunks, which are in the hold of the ship but the hot and damp environment made the infection much worse, causing the infection to spread to my eye. I stayed in my bunk about 20 hours and when we docked in Bath, Maine at the Maine Maritime Museum, a really nice museum volunteer named Peter drove me out to the local hospital where I was admitted to the emergency room. Kick the infection or lose your hearing. Get a graft for the eardrum or the infection will return as soon as I get more water into it. No more ship until I can get the surgery. The doctor tried to keep me there in the sterile room so I could kick the infection in a clean environment but without insurance, that was a no-go. I left the hospital and checked into the Rodeway Inn across the street. 36 hours in bed at the Rodeway Inn and Tony and Maryann from Hidecore make the 3 hour trip from Penobscot, Maine to pick me up and get me out of that 89.00 a night nightmare. Made the drive and pulled into their beautiful compound that you can see at http://www.bayviewhomesale.blogspot.com/ I felt good enough to get out for a walk today and was picked up about a mile from the house by a woman who could tell I was lost. I was looking for a trail to the ocean but the road that I was walking on did not allow crossing over by foot...all private property. She let me jump in and she drove me to her house about two miles up the road. The video shows how beautiful her place is. She just dropped me off in the yard and told me to enjoy myself and that she would pick me up and drive me back if she saw me on the road later. I spent about 3 hours in a hammock overlooking the ocean, thinking about my crappy turn of events. I have come to terms with not crossing the Atlantic now and am trying to figure out the best way to get this eardrum fixed with no insurance. (and limited $) I can always hop aboard next year now that I have my Coast Guard Certification. Until then, I am here with my good friends in a warm and positive environment and I am looking forward to the next chapter of my adventure. We just got back from the grocery and are making a big pot of Maine fish chowder.

some photos of town and the bel espoit docked beside us

It's the 4th of July and I woke up at 6 a.m to take a leak and decided to get another entry in before we sail. Tonight there will be two fire boats beside us shooting fireworks off. I thought we would be out sailing around but it looks like we are docked for the night. I was hoping to be sailing around the Statue of Liberty but no go. Here's a photo of Lucky at the bar the night before I left, one of me painting in the galley, the crew, a little v-twin engine on the dock, some photos taken while walking from Union Square to Times Square and a photo of The Bounty's deck in the morning and the French ship tied up beside us, the Bel Espoit. Yesterday I walked back to Times Square with Dan, Svetta, Andrew the Brit to see if there was an acoustic/electric there. I found a 199.00 model but it was a round plastic backed guitar. The sound was great but I thought it was a bit expensive. I did get a really small waterproof video camera from one of the little shops along Times Square. I had a good time negotiating with the guy. The people in New York are cool once you corner them. Other than that they seem like they are really stressed or in a hurry. This city is really cramped. I look forward to Boston and Maine.

I arrived on the ship and now it's work nonstop

I arrived on The Bounty the 29th at about 5pm. It's just about at the full complement of crew now, which is 20. My previous berth, which was a top bunk and totally show and large was taken since I was gone so long so I am relegated to a bottom bunk with plastic bags nailed up all over. When the ship is heeled one way or another when we are underway, the bilge water sloshes from side to side and comes up into the bunk thru the cracks. Did I mention that the bunk also leaks from above? I'll fix all of that here in a day or so. I'll have the most kick-ass bottom bunk on the ship. That I promise. I'll start by pulling all of that plastic down and filling all holes and seams with a sealant of some sort. I'll then make a mattress extension since the berth hooks to the left. That will make it so I can lean up against the hull for reading or whatever. I'll also buy some air freshener because the 4 man berth I am in smells like a 4 month old cast dunked in toilet water. Not much air circulation down there, unfortunately. I will say that I am surrounded by great people that are teaching me how to be a competent sailor, which is what I am here to learn. My friend Svetta is here. She and I took the Coast Guard Certification together last month. Adam, Sara, Gabe the younger are here. Caleb and Rebecca, who I first met in San Pedro are here for the night. They are on vacation but will be joining us in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The last few days had the crew sanding and varnishing brightwork, recieving and stowing 6 months worth of food for a crew of 20, and this afternoon in the pouring rain I mastered 'seizing'. That is where you take a length of twine 1 and 1/2 your outstretched arms length and use it to securely tie two lengths of line together. Today we secured the shrouds, which had been tightened up for our voyage. That keeps the masts from moving around. I have a bit of a sore throat but hope to be well enough to go to Time Square in Downtown NYC to visit the Sam Ash Superstore. I want to buy an acoustic-electric guitar. Caleb left his beautiful Takamine on board, which I found out this afternoon when they arrived. They had it stashed in their closed-up cabin. I would like on that is electric, though. Yesterday after our work was completed and dinner was over I walked to a Guitar Center at Union Square, which had no good deals. I then walked to the Sam Ash at Time Square but they had closed. Toys R Us was across the street so I went there looking for the Tony Hawk Helmet Cam but it was discontinued a few months back. The computer in Customer Service noted that there was one on the floor so of course I took an hour and a half looking everywhere for it. No dice. They finally kicked me out and I walked back. I walked almost 6 miles and all I got were some batteries and some cookies. Oh yeah. So I left Pier 66 on this journey and it was humid so I took off my shirt and started walking. I noticed that nobody else here had no shirt on but I didn't really care. I hooked a right at 8th ave and two or three blocks down and I'm in the middle of gay new york city. All the bars on the ave are open to the street and I'm getting fully harassed by dudes hanging out the windows. I put on my shirt and high stepped it out of that zoo. Those guys are nuts! That happened to me in San Francisco about 10 years ago but they gave me walking directions to the bar where I was to meet my friends at and they sent me straight thru the castro district. Bastards. I'm off to plan my bunk renovations.

Seattle enroute to Manhattan to meet The Bounty

I was able to stop off at my parent's house on the Puget Sound in Seattle, Washington overnight before coming out to the ship. Here is a video of the front yard and a photo of the logs which come up near the house during storms.

Two all-nighters and I fired the pan first kick. And THAT feels good.

Shoot. Two nights ago I attempted to wire the bike off of a Robinson drawing but crossed something up and when I turned the key, one of the wires started smoking and then turned cherry red along the center downtube! AAAAHH! Thanks to Syd's quick thinking of throwing oily rags on it, we got it out without any damage but a hurt ego. I pulled all the wiring and consulted Rodney when he showed up the next day. He tried to talk me out of it but I refused to split and had him draw me a diagram for the wiring before he went home. I stayed up all night and knocked out the wiring, all the while referring to all the things Ralph at Mesa Cycle has said over the years about doing show wiring. One main line along the top tube. Hide all zips. Cover all ends with shrink so no wire shows at all. I got it done and filled the fluids. Slept on a cement floor and went at it three hours later. Rodney figured out the brake and we pulled it off of the lift. I twisted the wick a time or two and it fired first kick. That was a proud moment for me. That means that I get to go to Japan with my good friends Roland and Drews and Cole and Kutty and we get to party our asses off with Mochi and Gaku and all the NFK guys. I am so stoked. Keith Coffin is here at the house now with the Moloch brothers from Norcal and alot of my friends are coming over tonight to check out the bike and see me off. I fly out tomorrow at 11:30AM for Seattle and day after that to Newark, where I will make my way to The Bounty in Manhattan for the beginning of my adventure across the Atlantic Ocean. Enjoy my trip. It's gonna be crazy.

I was too busy to bring in the camera last night...

So I got the petcock and a single plug from Scott Craig after driving all the way out to L.A. downtown and on the way back, picked up the other missing plug from Candy so my tank is now fitted, installed, and ready for fluids. Oil bag is mounted, plumbed, and ready for fluid also. I began on the electrical  by wiring the headlights back and the taillight forward. I ran the generator wire to the battery. The key switch with one side to all accessories and one to the battery positive. Ran the other side of the coil to the distributor. Zip ties hidden. Shrink tubing in all the right places. Turn the key! Oh SHIT! Smoke! That wire is turning CHERRY RED! AAAh. Pull the positive on the battery. Pull out the offending wire as it's burning hot. Check the paint. No damage. Just some smoke and  buzzed up nerves. The wire that ran from the key to the positive on the battery was toast as well as one of the two headlight wires. Hmmph. Where's Rodney?  Sick. He would know. I'll try again this afternoon. 

controls and whatever else. just a little bit more to go but only 72 hours left!

Thanks to Ralph at Mesa Cycle for the advice and to John at Banzai Machine for dropping everything when I walk in to tap or turn down something holding me up. Rodney and Stretch are always standing there to lend a hand or pull off some fabrication miracle. Mason hooked me up with some banjo adaptors for the police oil bag. He had them sitting right there on the bench like he knew I was coming over for them or something. Here's a few shots of my progress today. You think I'm stressing? Never. Back to the shop. This will be an all-nighter. 

John Candy working on the paint and a sneaker of the finished product

I'm on the home stretch but damn! The little things kill ya'. It took all day to hunt down the correct belt drive components since the primo stuff isn't interchangeable 64 to 48. Rivera discontinued the front tapered shaft pulley I needed so instead of just buying a pulley for 40 bucks, I had to buy the whole 400 dollar pulley-basket-belt updated system. I'll just go get that money out of the bushes here. Just a sec. Candy did a great job on the oil bag and fender. I took some shots of him working and here's a good one. Vid is a quickie of the parts together. 

some photos of the ship I will be sailing on across the Atlantic Ocean

Stretchy Stretch, in his search for obscure photos, has come across these gems. Here are studio shots from 62' when the Bounty was built for the movie Mutiny on the Bounty, starring the late, great Marlon Brando. This is the actual ship I will be on as we make our way across the pond to the land of red hair and freckles. Check them out! 

jun odashima dealing with the clutch basket

Jun and I dealt with the transfer of the Kill Yourself clutch basket and belt drive to the panhead. Here's a photo of Jun looking for the odd bolt to make the puller pull. Thanks for the hand Jun.

here's a mock-up photo

Here's the panhead at The Kennedy's shop the day I made the sissybar and cut down the bars. Pokey helped me figure out the hidden fender and tank mounts. Gettin' there.

Certification for international ocean voyage completed

I'm back from San Diego where, on the Navy Base, I took the Coast Guard Certification course that allows me to sail into International waters. It was a five day course that covered firefighting, emergency medical, disaster at sea, abandoning ship, etc. Let's hope I never have to use this stuff. I also got to go onto the Star of India, which is docked in the bay. It is an incredible square rigger from the 1800's. A "cape horner" some would call her. She is the oldest working ship of her kind. I wish I were born back when those ships ruled the seas! Brutal! Also, I threw in a video of my sleeping quarters for the last week. I drove the 1947 Chevy Panel Truck from Huntington Beach to San Diego and back. Not a problem whatsoever. This truck is a trooper! Comfortable, too!

Close-up of master cylinder and video of Rodney's contraption

I wanted to eliminate the stock master cylinder commonly used on Harleys and I wanted it to be as small as possible but still stop the P.M. 4 piston caliper that Roland gave me. I have never liked the fact that the front down tube and part of the cam cover is covered by this part. Those frames are so cool looking. I wanted to open that up. Rodney suggested we go with something off of a sportbike so we checked out a couple laying around the shop and went with this. I think it came of a GSXR. I could be wrong. What is not wrong is the placement of this thing. Sideways and tucked under the transmission. Is that ruling or what? Also, here is a video of this crazy contraption that Rodney built. It is battery powered and you use a toggle to direct it where to go. Pshhht. 

Setting the motor into the frame.

Sheesh. Had to take the motor to the shop in the 34 today with no way to tie it down. Hang on! Literally. So these aluminum rocker boxes are a bit bigger than the stock pan covers and I tried to put the motor right into the cradle but no-go. I took off the front head...no-go. I took off the rear head and it fit right in. Cock the rear head a bit and it slid onto the barrel. Slide the front on and uh-oh. The third mount for the stock gas tanks between the front legs is in the way! Shoot. So out comes the cut-off wheel. Slice and on it goes. A little semi-gloss and good as new. Took all day but the motor is in the frame. Get everything cinched up on the motor tomorrow and put the inner primary on and hopefully get the brake sorted out. Got to get it moving. Only a week of working time left. UPDATE: I got the bike over to Rodney's shop, The Nest yesterday to sort out the engineering of the brake and clutch arms I bent up. We put a sportbike master cylinder under the trans so we had to work out a cable and attach it to the arm. There's a photo of Father Stretch installing the exhaust and of Rodney in contemplation over the brake assembly. Also a photo of Pat checking out the finished product. I'm off to San Diego for a weeks worth of Coast Guard Certification so when I get back we'll get this bike started. Just need to install the throttle cable, clutch basket and pulley, wiring and oil bag, fender, and oil bag mounting bracket...and oil lines...and fix all the stuff that is going to go wrong, right? I'm off to San Diego in the 47'. 44 mph down the 5fwy. HA. Sad but true.

Rocker boxes back from Tay

Here are pics of my rocker boxes before I bolt them on and set the engine and driveline. Again, Tay did incredible work. The lids were the finned aluminum but I had John at Banzai Machine face them so I could throw some engraving on 'em. The Klan image is by muralist Thomas Hart Benton. It was part of a mural done for the 1933 Chicago Exposition in the Indiana Pavilion. The title of the mural is 'Parks, The Circus, The Klan, The Press'. I added it because it reflects the lack of minority representation in the club.

Video of Harpoon blasting off.

Here's Harpoon on his Pan doing what he does best. He is out every night crushing the pavement till all hours. Splittin' lanes and takin' names! Do it Poon!

Picked up cam cover from Tay today.

Here is the cam cover for the Panhead. It has elements of The Heathens stories from the documentary slipped in here and there. Tay Herrera is the best engraver out there and I didn't have to sit there and try to explain the whole thing. I drew out some ideas, told him what elements I wanted and he just got it. My most important request was that it be traditional colt/remington gun style engraving, which he has 20 years of experience at. My Pan lids are still there with him and he will be done with them tomorrow. The craftsmanship speaks for itself. Between Tony and Maryann at Hidecore Leather and Tay Herrera's engraving, my head is going to explode just from the great artwork on this machine!

Artwork at HoSumBistro in Newport Beach, CA

How cool is this? A local artist painted on a HUGE canvas an image of my car in front of the Avalon Bar in Costa Mesa. It is hanging in HoSumBistro in Newport Beach, CA. The guy is a great artist with an excellent choice of subject matter, obviously. 

Finished gas tank for the panhead

Here's the finished product. The tank was an original Hap Jones that I had Pokey lower the tunnel a few inches on. John Candy shot it in fine silver flake. I then took it and adhered recycled glass to it. After that I covered it in surfboard resin and then 5 layers of clear. It is crazy. I got the idea from an old David Mann painting. I'm not going to give the exact painting away but it's a good one. The story behind the seat is this: Duster, member of The Heathens now but in different clubs thru the years since the late 1960's shared this priceless tale with me in Sturgis while we were filming the documentary. Duster is no nonsense, loud, funny and has lived the club life and only the club life the last 40+ years. I'll try to tell the tale but when you watch it it's gonna be a thousand times better. So Duster has just gotten home from Vietnam. It's 1968 or 9 and he's around 20. He's out putting around on his panhead and pulls behind a local bar, midday, just looking to kill some time. The entrance is around the front so he puts the bike out back and starts off around the corner of the building. Down the sidewalk towards the front of the building, two cops are ratpacking a Satans Slave who is handcuffed and on his back on the sidewalk against the wall. Duster casually walks towards the scuffle and kicks one of the cops in the face and knocks him out. The other cop grabs his gun but is too close to the slave's boot. The Slave kicks him in the face and knocks him out. So now it's Duster standing there, a Satans Slave on his back in handcuffs and two unconscious cops laying on the sidewalk. Duster grabs the handcuff key off of one of the cops and unlocks the Slave. They split to the Slaves clubhouse and Duster doesn't come out for three days. That's three days of chicks, drugs and what else. Why did he get involved? "Two on one," he says. "It wasn't a fair fight." Sweet.

songs written on The Bounty

On the front page of this blog I have installed songs that you can download. They are songs I wrote when I was last aboard The Bounty. I plan on playing these and others that I write as we cross the Atlantic at bars in the ports we stop at in Ireland and the Netherlands. I have a good amount of Lemonheads songs under my belt now and will mix those in as well. 

two friends taking off on skinner lake run

I dropped by John Candy's house as Grant was pulling up for their skinner lake run. The 47 Chevy Panel in the background is my latest find and one of my dream cars. 

Pasadena City College Swap Meet with Stretch

Stretch and I went to the P.C.C this morning.  I took two of the lamps I made in the hopes of being mobbed with buyers fighting over the chance to own my handiwork. No. I did score a Harbour "Trestle Special" 9'11" longboard! $50. A little new glass and I'll be in the water at uppers displaying some fancy footwork. I also got a photo of Stretch with the Hamburglar. I thought he was living in Uruguay. 

Another study on slag lamps.

The slag lamps getting easier to complete. I plan on a few different sizes with a large 3' round by 2' tall piece as my largest and a few more small round and square pieces to perfect my technique. I would like to do a 6" round tube by 4' but have yet to order the material. Here is my latest color and shape. 

On a maritime note, Svetta called today and told me she has confirmed her berth on the Bounty for the voyage across the pond. That is exciting. She is very nice and a competent sailor. I feel better knowing she is going to be up in the rigging. Svetta is currently crew aboard a masted yacht in the Sausalito area up in Northern California. 

a favorite photo of a favorite person

I took some photos of my friend Drews earlier this year and this is one of my favorites. 

Killing time before returning to the ship.

I have been trying to fill my days lately and knocked out a couple slag glass lamps. Along with numerous trips to the chrome/polish shop, I have few new ways to kill the hours until I answer the call of the sea. Custom panheads and vintage lamps. 

I have left the Bounty and I don't like it on land!

So I left the Bounty Thursday morning. Caleb drove me to the Clearwater airport where I picked up a rent-a-car which I drove to Orlando. I caught a flight to Seattle and my Sister, Terae picked me up and took me to our parents house. In the morning, my stepmother, Teresa, and good Aunt Corina piled into the mercedes and we three drove out to downtown Seattle to hunt down that Custom Ford LTD, in the hopes of making an offer on it. After driving around a while, we found the house and unfortunately, no owner home. I did get more photos of the car, though. Enjoy the 4 switches, hydros, Daytons, detailed frame, and I even saw a plaque on the dash for the 35th L.A. Roadster Show Entry. This car is the bomb but is slowly being lost to the elements. I also saw a 65 micro deluxe vw bus one block away in another driveway rusting. Great neighborhood! 

I need to rent my two empty rooms back at home before I can sign myself away for the trip across the Atlantic. It's odd just dropping into what amounts to a tiny apartment with 10 people you don't know to learn a trade that nobody else but you and this group cares to keep alive. As difficult as it might be, you get used to the rhythm of the ship and the characters you see 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You get attached to the same faces you know will be in the galley looking for a chess game or to another one late for the morning capstan meeting without shoes...again. I can count the number of times on my hand that I left the St. Petersburg pier during the three weeks aboard and while away, I was usually trying to think of reasons to go back on board. I know that I need more work up on the yards and although I read about the rigging and lines till my head just about exploded, I really can't get it right unless I have my hands physically on the rigging and am pointing out where lines go while standing on deck trying to shake the right line to knock off the noisy birds. I guess I had better post photos of my rooms on Craigslist and get these people paying rent so I can get back to my friends in Florida...Viva Le Swamp, Eh?

painting the ship

Here's some footage of me hanging off the side of the ship painting more red. Two days straight. 

Detail on the use of oakum, cotton, and sealant from Dan and Adam

This is on the port side of the ship at the waterline with Adam and Dan. They describe in detail how to correctly seal between the ships planking with oakum, cotton, and sealant. This is an old method and was taught to me by Caleb, the ship guru, mate, officer, and bosun. 

this deadly spider was in the galley (kitchen)

Oh for christ's sake. Look at the this spider!!! It is deadly, that is obvious. It's also huge and jumps.

describing a task

Our Bulgarian friend Svetta with a little help from Dan describe a task on board The Bounty.

Doing this takes some nerve, let me tell ya....

Adam, Sarah, and I were out working on the lowest fore yard today, which is what the lowest and largest sail hangs off of on the forward mast. We were all over it. Sitting, crawling all around. I gotta say that it takes balls to do this tied to a dock at the lowest height. I still can't fathom being at the topmost yard like the topgallant or royal during a storm at night in heavy seas. In the dark. What the hell? Here's a video of us on the fore yard today. Enjoy.

Working up in the rigging.

Here's a video I shot of me up in the rigging adding tar to the braces of the mizzenmast (the rearmost mast)

A short video of the deck of the ship and the cabins we sleep in.

This is a video showing the top deck at dusk, the capstan, wheel, binnacle, down the aft hatch, thru the great cabin and into the crew quarters on the lowest deck. We also get to see our Bulgarian friend Svetta doing a traditional dance on the 'tweendecks. Life could be worse.

I called Joe and Pokey today and got to talk to them for a second. That was fun. I miss seeing them and going out to the shop. Most of my time is taken up by ship-related duties so it is nice to get away and talk to friends. I also miss riding my motorcycle. I can't stop thinking about my panhead and getting it completed. I catch myself daydreaming constantly about engraving, paint panel patterns and what to polish and chrome. I want to be splitting lanes again! I know Drews is in the wind every night in my place.

The morning routine in detail and some working photos.

The mornings start at 7am. All hands report to the galley (kitchen) where we either make a breakfast dish that is shared or every man or woman for themselves. 8am we meet at the capstan on deck for our duties for the day, which may change depending on the needs of the ship. After the 5 minutes or so discussing the days duties, we either stay on deck to do a deckwash or go to the 'tweendecks to sweep and mop stem to stern (galley to great cabin). After that is all done we usually pick up on the job from the day before. Yesterday I painted cabins on the lowest deck and today I laid tar upon the bracing which supports the masts. I used a paintbrush to cover all areas on the bracing where it was not black. That took most of the day. I also made it up to the main topgallants (the top of the second of three sets of rope ladders leading to the top of the mast) today but didn't venture further. It is VERY high! Sheesh. I was freaked out to think I may be up there in a storm, heeled over with the wind and rain trying to pull me out and drop me in the drink!! It is really nuts to think that people in the past did all of this with NO safety gear whatsoever. Jesus, they were tough guys.

The white dog was being walked past the ship so I jumped off to take a photo of this poor beast. There is another photo of Sara and Svetta repairing sails. That was fun to learn. I'll have to take some detailed photos of this process later. We're being taught the same techniques used over a hundred years ago to repair sails! There are a couple of photos of the deckwash in action. We spray the whole top-deck down and scrub it with coarse brushes.

adam painting

Here is a photo of adam painting the stern scrollwork. He left this morning to make his court date. It seems he participated in a swamp protest/sit-in a few months back and when the police moved in to disperse the peace-loving crowd, he broke out a bike lock and locked himself to some other dude's neck. Viva Le Swamp!

great cabin and sailors chest

Here are some photos of the great cabin at the stern of the ship. Also, there is a photo of a sailors chest, with a painting of a ship on it's top.

the days are blending together

The last two days were spent repairing sails and pounding oakum. Two new crewmembers came aboard and one departed. Here is a photo of my favorite tattoo done by my friend Tim Hendricks, a view of the ship from the great cabin forward, and a book I am reading titled 'The Age of Sail'.

some photos from the ship

Here are a few photos. One shows the ship the first day I walked up, one shows my bunk pre and post paint, and possibly a photo of me up in the rigging.

Oh jesus look at this car. FULL show and hidden in Seattle, WA

This is the 1970's Ford LTD that I was talking about. I saw it while driving with my sister in Seattle. I went back twice and will return in March to try and buy it. Wow. The paint is incredible. Can Harpoon relate? Does Candy dig? Is Trevelen misting up? This is the real deal.

Wow. This is really something else.

Unfortunately I am unable to upload any photos yet but must share what I have done up to now. On my last night, The Heathens played an incredible show at The Avalon Bar in Costa Mesa, where I have been helping out. So many people showed up and I was so flattered. There were so many incredible motorcycles out in front and along the side of the bar. We played what felt like a blistering set, precluded by Mr. Ryan Ritchie and his public address, which was a great success and great to hear. We also were able to play a Naked Soul cover which is one of my favorite songs that Mike Conley, who built the Avalon Bar, wrote during his time in that band. It felt good to play that one as a thank you to him and to Sid, who has been such a very good friend to me and has been so supportive during this transition. I had only a few hours of sleep before driving 100 miles-an-hour to LAX to make my flight to Seattle, Alaska Airlines hub and home of my sister, Terae. She picked me up on the 1st of February and we drove around Seattle, where I saw the most incredible 1970's Ford LTD full show custom that had been put out in a driveway to rot. I took video and when you see it, you will die. Drews will die. Trevelen will die. Harpoon will have a stroke. This is the real deal. I can't wait to post it up for everyone. The 34 Ford is now officially up for sale.

I flew into Orlando on the second of February and rented a car from National. Since my flight landed at 9:30pm, it was drive the two hours to St. Petersburg, where the ship is docked, or sleep there at the airport. I chose to drive and aside from having to run an unmanned tollbooth for lack of exact change, there were no problems all the way to the St. Petersburg Pier. I did stop at the tollbooth and wrote a note with a dollar attached to it. I tried to stuff it under a door but they make it so you can't do anything like that...presumably so they can say you didn't try to pay after going thru so they can charge you 40 dollars penalty. Frustrating but I still left the note and dollar at the toll door. So on to the pier. I arrived about midnight and parked on the Pier. Walking up was odd. The ship was silent and is docked right at the end. I didn't dare to get too close. It was dark and what an interesting feeling to think I am going to be on that old ship for a month. I wondered if back when the original bounty was in Florida in the 1800s', was there a guy looking at her docked at midnight before boarding the next day thinking and feeling the same way I was. Interesting mix of emotions but as excited as I was, I was certainly tired and knew that I needed to get some sleep before showing up the next day. Off I went to find the Clearwater Airport. The closest and only National Rent a Car in the area. I found the airport about 20 minutes away after driving lost for two hours, pulled behind a Motel 6 and slept uncomfortably until 8:30am, February 3rd. After dropping the car off, I proceeded to walk a mile to find 49th Street, where I caught a bus to the St. Petersburg Pier. A short walk and I was standing on the gangplank looking onto the ship and a blonde guy and a shaggy, dark haired guy working on lines. I hailed and the blonde guy looked up and asked if I was Gabriel. I said I was and he said he was also. Neat. He was working with Adam, securing rigging. Much of what they were working with I was lost on but recognized the masts, some rigging and some other details I had drilled into my head over the last month or so. They welcomed me aboard and sent me to the tween'decks, which is below the top deck or the middledeck to find Rebecca, who is the girl I met when Rodney and I first saw the ship in San Pedro, California at the Tall Ships Festival. We were out for a fun drive in the 1967 International Scout I had just finished dialing in and came across the festival. Rodney and I went aboard and I asked some questions of Rebecca. She told me to take a brochure and send a resume if I wanted to work aboard ship. I sent the resume as soon as I got home. She and her husband Caleb have been aboard for the last 5 years and were tween'decks to greet me as I came down. She introduced me to the Captain, who happened to be aboard at the time and to her husband, who she had previously spoke about. They were all very nice. As far as the Captain goes, all my reading up to now has said that only Officers can speak to the Captain unless he speaks directly to you. I don't think it is as strict as that here but just to be on the safe side... I put my bags down and asked Rebecca to put me right to work. She had shown me the crew quarters, which were on the lowest level of the ship and would have been storage originally. One level below tween'deck. There was a four-bunk room that was primered but not painted. There are four-four bunk rooms in all in the cabin area, no more than two sets of bunks, upper and lower, facing each other. Think two bunk-beds with 12 inches of space between them and that's it. I asked if I could paint on of the rooms to start and Rebecca had no problem with that. It actually took me two days to complete but everyone was so nice up to this point that I figured that I would haze myself and take a crappy job to start it all off. Before I cornered Caleb to show me the 'bosuns area, where the paint and tools are stored, Rebecca took me up into the rigging for the first time. I'll be honest. That is a crazy feeling to be so high up and just hanging on by a net. I later went up with Gabe the Younger and he's all over, crawling WAY up, finding holds where I don't even see them to pull himself up. I am sure this all comes from experience but he says he has only been on this particular ship a month. I hope that I can become more confident climbing around. It is still nerve-wracking up there.

I finished the painting project Thursday night after dinner and turned in. During the day, the crew members give guided tours of the ship on the half-hour from 11am to 4:30pm. At the end of Wednesday, I gave my first tour. Trial by fire, I guess. I had followed a couple of them on their own tours to see exactly what they said and maybe copy a bit of it but you get your own rhythm and after a while, the 30 minutes seems like 5 minutes. Thursday I helped Adam and Gabe the Younger to secure some lines and ran a few tours. Today, Friday, the 6th of February, Caleb and I attached a plywood bench off of the side of the ship and from a foot off of the water, proceeded to hammer a large chizzle between the planking along the length of the ship, near the fore, or front. Into this space we will be laying oakum, a thready substance which looks like dirty cotton and smells like tobacco along the seam and hammering it into the seam to keep out water. That, I think, is a priority.
Since my motorcycle accident, my shoulder muscle isn't what it used to be. With my broken scapula, the nerves have been blocked which allow the shoulder muscle to regenerate. I was worried about my strength and notice it is slightly weaker than my right arm but really feel it in my elbow after pulling myself up twelve feet by rope to get from the platform back to the deck of the ship. I'll survive and hope the flexion and extension I am putting it thru will help it to become stronger. I also dove off of the ship into the water after we stopped working. My right eardrum blew out when I hit the water and when I came up for air, I was noticeably out of it, almost like vertigo. I could also taste the saltwater coming thru my ear canal, which I didn't like. I swam back to the ship and swore off the water until I can have that looked at.

We have been eating very well, Caleb and Rebecca cooking large dinners for the five of us. I have not really had time for anything but eating, sleeping, reading up on lines and the ship, and work. I miss talking to all of my friends but know that I will be back in March, where I can spend some quality time with my friends, get some projects completed and hopefully get my rooms rented and come back for the Atlantic crossing.

taking off with my friends from the Avalon Bar after the show

The Heathens played the Avalon Bar tonight and I am very proud that so  many of my friends showed up riding their motorcycles. Here is a shot of us riding off after the show. Too cool. I got two rooms for rent...anyone interested?

riding the chopper on Newport Coast Dr. towards PCH

So my last day here in town was spent with my close friends and my family at house#1 at Crystal Cove Cottages in Corona Del Mar, CA. I rode my motorcycle down and took the scenic route along Newport Coast Drive to PCH from the 73 freeway. I took some footage on my digital camera as I was riding so you could get an idea of how beautiful of a ride that is. It is breathtaking. I have to be on stage at 10:30 tonight at the Avalon bar in Costa Mesa so I am tying up all my loose ends here at the house. After the show it's straight to bed and LAX at 6:30 am tomorrow morning. First stop: Seattle. Then on to Orlando and a two hour drive to meet the Bounty in St. Petersburg Florida on February 3rd. for one month of training. Almost there.

practice your needlework

After reading up on sailing square-riggers in the 1800's, I found that the average sailor was usually extremely skilled with needle and thread, having spent countless hours repairing sails and other fabric aboard ship, not to mention repair of their own garments. I made this attempt at cross-stitching to sharpen my skills. I just chose a thread color, fabric color, laid it out on paper and found it is all just counting stitches. I made this to document Alexa's first day standing up on a surfboard and completed it in a 16 hour marathon stitching session so it could be shipped last minute to the East Coast, where she was vacationing for Christmas. My roommate Johnny thought I was crazy until he saw the finished product. 

sailor's valentine detail

how to pass time aboard ship....allegedly

Here is a sailor's valentine I made a while back. It has a stained mahogany octagonal frame, shells have been carefully glued into position to fill the frame with color and a layer of glass covers the fragile shell panel, protecting it from damage and shifting. The February, 2007 issue of Antiques and Collecting magazine has a great article on the history of sailor's valentines. My example is novice compared to those shown in the article! Wow!  http://www.maritimeheritageeast.org.uk/museums/the-peter-coke-shell-gallery/shell-art/sailors-valentines-2 So after reading the article, very few sailors actually made these. Most were made by islanders in Barbados for the souvenir trade and sold to passing sailors to give to loved ones upon return to port. It was still really cool making it and taking the time to build the frame and collect the shells. Gluing them all was time consuming but I really liked doing it anyway since I got to think about alexa for 6 days straight. 

A little bit more about me

So here is a video of the interior of my home with a shot of my roommate Junko. Can you find the two-headed chicken?

I am OUT of here. February 3rd its rope and sails from here on out.

So I decided to drop my usual life of being tortured by a horrible boss and become a sailor on a tall ship. A ship where you have to climb up the rigging and set the sails. Saltpork and biscuit. Ropes and sails. My life of the last 4 years has consisted of riding my chopper on the sidewalk, filling my house with furniture from the antique swap meet, surfing, and driving my 34 Ford around. Apart from being driven insane by a sociopathic supervisor, I enjoyed working as a City inspector and truly enjoyed public service for the 8 years I spent employed there. Why the sea? After living in congested, cemented Los Angeles/Orange County for the last 36 years of my life, I decided to find the complete opposite of that environment. Sailing history has been a passion of mine for many years and I can't escape the idea of sailing on a ship like the ones used to 'round Cape Horn in the 1800's. This picture is of my house. My mother designed the front garden. I'll miss pulling weeds and training the vines on the trellises over the windows and on the arbors. The other photos are of my car and motorcycle. The motorcycle is a 1964 Harley generator shovel and the car is a 1934 Ford 5-window coupe that has been channeled and had a chevrolet motor and transmission swapped in for reliability. I like old stuff a lot.

So I have never been up in the rigging on a tall ship. I have been in boats many times but marlinspike seamanship I have only read about in books and watched on youtube. I figure that many sailors over time have started out with no experience whatsoever and have survived. I am going to meet the ship February 3rd and spend the month learning as much as I can about rigging, sails, knots, and whatever else I can soak in. I will then return home and go back to the ship mid-March if I am offered the position of crew aboard the ship. I have nobody to ask what I should bring so I am reading Richard Henry Dana, Jr.'s Two Years Before the Mast, Fredrick Pease Harlow's The Making of a Sailor, and John Harland's Seamanship in the Age of Sail. The latter being an incredible storehouse of information on ship handling and sailing square-rigged ships. From the photos of sailors inside, I have an idea of what clothing to bring. I think I can read until my head explodes and I still won't learn as much as one trip up into the rigging. I wonder if I will freak out. I wonder if I will get seasick. I am excited to find out. That tiny photo at the top is the ship I am sailing on.