Ok, ok. My own parents I can ignore, but not those of my friends. So a little update on what me and K-sticks are up to. After Continuing the the road trip up the east coast from Duneden (yes, there was surf, aswell as generally arseing about, doing hammer-time in car parks, lots of press ups and hold your breath competitions), we stopped at the ranch for a regroup,a bit of fishing and then Wellington, yeah. My old flatmate kris meet us off the no-food-ferry, and he and his family were excelent hosts, giving us use of their beautiful home overlooking the city. At this point Big-B decided that he wasn't ready for the city living, packed up and continued on the wve-chase. For up dates on his awsome adventure see www.offexploring.com/barneywalker Kris and I decided that, as sweet as it was up on the hill, we needed flats and jobs and living in the city would give us the motivation to do so. Thinking that we would meet like minded actionizing people, we checked into the Rosemere backpackers, which at first glace seemed plesent and social but under the surface was a lot more sinister. As well as hosting backpackers from the four corners of the earth, it also acted a s a half-way house for local, nar-do-wells. Conversations went abit like this "hay man, where you from?" "Welington" "oh, have you been away for a while, you now, just come back to town, ha?" "No" "So how long have you been staying here?" "seven months" "Ok, bye" I've been around some screw-balls in my time, but three people who talk to them selves is my limit. Anyway, moved out today. I have taken up the kind offer to stay with four lovely ladies, whilst Kris has chosen to stay in a shed on the edge of town. Seriously, guys, Kris lives in a shed. He even, phoned me up earlier on to tell me how sweet it is, apparently there is a heater and every thing. I think I'll just stay where I am thank you very much. However, we are both working, Kris is up at 7 each morning (a first) and spends the day landscaping, I have installed myself in the local wholefood store and spend my day bagging and tagging, packing and stacking, as well as listening to the usual customers disorders, intolerences and general grumbles about their bowels. We had a little adventure on the weekend, which Kris has worded so beautifully that I feel the need to add it to the bottom of this post. I could tell you what happened, but anyone who knows the boy will now that no-one tells a tale like our Krissy-boy. Anyone who enjoys the folowing, I prepose that we set up the rascal with his own travel log and will match any cashpledges from you out there to do so. So from me, goodbye, and enjoy. Kris' words- "how i spent my afternoon instead of writing a C.V shame on me " Life goes on in "Casa curioso" the loonballs keep trickling in and there apears to be no shortage of beds for there weary heads. Me and Teva jump at any chance to leave the asylum yesterday we took up a drunken offer from your last night to go fishing with Our friend Chris and his companion Captn Dave. Whilst shopping in New world for what we thought would be a pleasant Sunday at see, Teva purchased a large bunch of certified Organic Bananas to purge our drink sodden souls along with some delicious hummus, olives 2 french sticks a ripe Brie and a little Goose Pate. On arriving at the Mariner Dave and Chris readied the boat whilst we bussied ourselfs taking pictures of our Gourmet picnic and loading the deck down. About 2 mins into the water my feet became wet and finding the source at the back of the boat it became apparent no one had seen fit to replace the bung at the bottom of the tin craft used to drain it whilst on dry land, Ahh the Auspices did not look good, an evil wind picked up and soon we found ourselfs in choppy waters heading into wellington Harbour about three Kilometers out to sea. It must be said here, i can't swim, infact i'm terrified of large, deep bodys of water, and the same mantra kept running through my head "Kris what the f*** are you doing? Kris what the f*** are you doing!" my only relief being Tevas for ever smiling face, he is a strong swimmer after all, though even his smile seemed to wane when the rain came down and the waves went up. We switched off the engine dropped anchor and began to bate our rods i couldn't help noticing the only two other boats our side of the large island in the center of the harbour rapidly drifting away and mentioned this to the Captn who's slightly worried face, in the by now heavily bobbing bath tub, turned to sheer horror when he noticed Teva placing a ravaged salty Banana skin into the food box. Who brought the f***ing Banana? he yelled throwing the comical yellow skin overboard, Would you like one came the confused but polite reply, their organic we've got a bunch in the box. f*** no i don't want one, were doomed man, bringing a banana on a boat is like......... i can't even think of a comparison. Teva with trembling lip lowered the offending fruit back into the box, get rid of them, but there organic, not cheap either, get them off the boat Now. Not sure if it was some old Seamans joke T half heartedly threw them to the fishes, only to watch them float back to our small craft like metal shavings to a magnet. At this point things were still rather jovial and laughter distracted my mind from fear. Pulling up anchor the Captn beckond us to tug the ripcord on the motor, Chris tried to no avail and i too found it stuck fast, oh dear, everybodys eyes turned to Banana Man, who's own eyes were pointed in the oppisite direction focused on, we later found out the largest container ship this side of the Hemisphere, about a kilometer away steaming at good speed into the port and dwarfing a Ferry so big it can carry a train. Prehaps we should flag down the other boats i ventured? Captn Dave using choice words seconded the idea and all four of us imeidietly began flapping arms, whistling and shouting. Luckily three of us were wearing bright yellow waterproofs purchased from Wharehouse "where everyone gets a deal" the rain was decending heavily now and visibility wasn't to good. The two other boats slowly made there way to us both having smaller engines than our own, more imortantly however they knew how to use theirs. Offering to phone the coast guard who i would welcome with open arms the Captn asked about the possiblity of a tow into calmer waters to inspect the faulty engine, the two boats circled us like indians a wheeless wagon, shouting words and sea talk alien to my ears. Whilst the Drama unfolded and my heart steadied knowing are new friends had at least a little knowledge of the sea, another larger sturdier i'm not ashamed to say sexier looking boat pulled up in dramatic fashion, gunning both 4 stroke 100 horse power engines. More sea talk flew back and forth, followed by a sturdy rope which was hastilly lashed to either the starboard or portside, which i cant be sure needles to say we were being dragged in the write direction, landword bound. Half way back me and Teva were transferd to the good ship saviour and given a stern dressing down. Your the kind of people who end up in the Newspaper was one sentence that stuck in my mind. No bilge pump, flares, radio only three life jackets. They informed us even if we did dodged the giant tanker all we had to look forward to was the 5th most feared stretch of water in the world. We also had some bananas on board Teva mumbled looking shoe ward. When we finaly stomped Terrafirma i handed $40 to the skipper for a slab of beer and thanked them whole heartedly. Making a personnel vow never to set sail again, in anything smaller than a ferry large enough to carry life boats bigger than the retchid little tin can. The friendly fishermen were kind enough to share some of there haul and we walked away, with fish lining our pockets instead of money, alive a little shaken at what could of been, but breathing air instead of water, as God had ment it to be!