Dave Cornthwaite | The Creative Explorer

‘I’ve been here for five years and this is only the second time there’s been a clean sweep from the media, you’re a big deal,’ said Jen, all sunglasses and hair and PR savvy, she knows her stuff and the cameras now dispanding were proof of the pudding. To be fair though, I kept my head size down after that comment, the first clean sweep of the media had been the mayor getting on a treadmill!

It was a lovely day, one that started with 17 paddlers from a number of Memphis organisations joining Tom and I for the final 20 mile approach into Memphis, Tennessee. Four WWII aircraft played in the sky above us, a news helicopter buzzed us on the river, circling twice before departing with a wave. Over 400 Blue Miles were accrued on the water in all, earning everyone involved a place on our leaderboard. This was a fitting end to Tom’s final day on the Mississippi. He had never Stand Up Paddled when he landed in Minneapolis once month ago, but now he has 1120 miles under his belt, a super effort. At 21, he may well have a career in adventure ahead of him, but for now follow his progress on the Exceed Possibility blog.

A huge crew joined Dave and Tom into Memphis

Tom was replaced by a more familiar face, to me at least. My brother Andy swooped into Memphis to join me for 500 miles of the river, all the way to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. We cycled around town, soaking up the calm of Memphis. Visiting the Lorraine Hotel, the spot where Martin Luther King JR was cruelly taken, his memory and the peace he fought so long to provide echoing around the place. There is a sense of history to this city, yet it doesn’t have any pretence at all. It undoubtedly has much to do with the friends we’ve made here, but rarely have I felt this much at home in a strange place.

I’m on a seemingly endless search for a place to settle one day. Still 21 x 1000+ mile expeditions lay ahead, but I’m always keeping an eye out for future residences. Memphis has just entered the bidding, and in no small part it has been due to an incredible welcome. Strangers, the lot of them, pulling together and adding more than just a little bit to this dream of mine. The paddlers on the water, shunning the perpetual warnings about the Mississippi offering nothing but danger. Smiles galore, hundreds of Blue Miles were amassed on Sunday 14th August, boatloads of new friends, then offerings of accommodation, food, company, drinks emerged from all sides. I’ve been overwhelmed with kindness from all sides this week, extra layers to a snowball that has been developing for two months despite record-breaking heatwaves.

Seven TV segments, a couple of newspaper features, several restaurants, one hotel, one machine shop called Big River, a talk at a museum, a swift visit to Graceland to source an outfit that was to eventually embarrass me no end and more than a dozen handfuls of new friends. I couldn’t end this blog with anything other than a list of thank yous. Memphis, it has been a pleasure, see you soon, promise.

Thank you to Rachel King, Jen Jaudon, Tom Roehm, Carmen Jones, Boyd Wade & Lucy Hardy, Kooky Kanuck and Shawn Danko, Bluff City Coffee, The Green Beetle and Mark Tedford, Gus’ Fried Chicken, Huey’s Restaurant, the River Inn, Folk’s Folly, Mud Island River Park, the Wolf River Conservancy, Memphis Stand Up Paddle Rentals, Ghost River Rentals, Outdoors Incorporated and last but not least, Jonathan Brown - it takes one good person to make a whole lot of things happen, and you’re that man.

Thanks too for the donations from: Eric & Sam Grottlieb ($30), Boyd Wade & Lucy Hardy ($20), Chris Austin ($20), Harry Babb ($20), Richard Sojourner ($15), Jeff & Eileen Sojourner ($20), Luke Short ($20), Sandra ($20) - your money will be split equally between the AV Foundation and CoppaFeel.

I am part of a small but well-formed group of Adventurers who regularly blog for each other. This week’s guest blog is written by my good friend Sarah Outen, who is currently circumnavigating the world under her own steam by bicycle, kayak and rowboat. It’s tough to find someone more motivating than Sarah, and her blog below suggests that when there’s a dream to be chased, you gotta give it a Gao!

I am currently in Beijing, 4.5 months into a 30 month expedition with 13,300km on the clock and most of the world to go. I have been on the road, cycling East for most of those 4.5 months, crossing sandy deserts, slogging up mountains or whizzing along river valleys. I have met all sorts of people between here and London – on the road and off it; wisened ancients, calm and content; excitable young things exploding with energy; tired travellers; bubbly truckers; interested folks; grinning hellos; bemused folks and a whole lot of other faces whom have disappeared as quickly and quietly as they arrived in my transient life on the road. This diverse cast list has shown me that we are all as different as peas from carrots in some respects, but as similar as similar things in others. Our lives may be different and our cultures colourfully so, but at the root of us all seems to be a similar set of values and genre of hopes.

One thing that I have heard many times from London to Lauterbach to Coburgh to Qyzylorda to Hami to Beijing is, ‘I wish I could do what you’re doing… ‘ or ‘I have a dream too…’ This is often followed by a huge ‘But….’ And a reel of reasons (or excuses) as to why the dream lies unaccomplished and the sighs linger on. My language skills sometimes prevent me from saying exactly what I want to say but here is the crux of it, proffered from one weary, happy roadie to y’all. If you want it, then go and make it happen, whatever it may be. No one else is going to do it for you. If you have ‘buts’ then figure a way round them or readjust your priorities and make some sacrifice. Tomorrow is full of future and hope, but often it never comes and the opportunities will have passed before you know it. Have a think about it, make a little plan as to when you will make those dreams happen – can now be the right time? If not, then why not? I think a lot of it comes down to people not committing, for whatever reason. Maybe they are tied with other obligations. Maybe they don’t know how. Maybe they are afraid. Maybe they cannot commit. Who knows, but what I do know is how satisfying and powerful an experience it can be when you jump straight in and start swimming for your goal. Madly, excitedly, eyes wide open, splashing and figuring out how to keep floating, and hooping and hollering with the joys of the journey.

4,000 km ago a young excitable Chinese guy bounded up to me and my bike Hercules and declared that he wanted to cycle to Beijing with me. He had met me 10 minutes beforehand, had never cycled further than 10km and didn’t even have a bike. Having tried to put him off to start with, I then thought I would give him a chance – the guy had energy in bucket loads and a whole lot of pluck for even suggesting this to me. 35 days later, after daily challenges and some of the toughest terrain I have ever cycled, Gao – my impromptu Chinese companion – wheeled into Beijing alongside me, mission complete. He had grown from nervous boyish floppy-haired youth into a confident and accomplished cyclist, eyes wide open and hooping and hollering with the joys of the journey, eager for more. It was a magic moment and I know he will go on to pedal some great journeys on his own now – he is in love with adventure.

Sarah and Gao on the road

So, if you’re reading this and are twitching uncomfortably about that dream of yours lying dormant at the back of your mind and To Do List, then why not dig it out and give it a little Gao. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t turn out the way you hoped – at least you will know you gave it a shot. And if now really is not and cannot be the right time for you, then get out the calendar and make a plan for when and how you will make it happen. Good luck and go well

This article was written by Sarah Outen as part of the Adventurer’s Blogging Chain. The previous post was Adventures Great and Small by Tim Moss.

In 2001 Rod Wellington and his long-time adventurous friend Scott McFarlane paddled out of Lake Itasca, MN in a Canadian Canoe, their aim being to travel the length of the Mississippi River. Starting on Monday June 20^th, I’ll be joining forces with Rod and Scott as they will be re-posting diary entries from the 2001 expedition at the same time as I post updates from my own Mississippi journey, which will be happening in real time.

This is a great opportunity to see just how different two apparently similar expeditions can be. Just ten years apart, I personally can’t wait to hear about Rod and Scott’s journey down the very river that is about to claim my 2011 summer.

Please check Rod’s blog out on http://zeroemissionsexpeditions.com/

And if you’d like to follow my journey hit my website, Facebook or Twitter

Last night I crept into the Melbourne rain to meet a man who could quite happily reflect on his twenties as being a decade well spent. Hap Cameron set himself the challenge of working on every continent before he turned thirty in November 2011, and now, with just a few months left until that milestone, he has one continent left.

In two weeks Hap sets off for Africa, and this time he’ll be taking on a human-powered cycle journey before setting up a bicycle workshop on the banks of the Zambezi. This final leg of a cracking project is best described through this video - I watched it and felt a pang of jealousy that I hadn’t thought of something similar. Inspirational, life-grabbing stuff, Hap has just signed a book deal so you’ll be able to read about his adventures in full next year.

For the time being, here are some Hap-related links:

• Hap’s take on our meeting
• Hap’s official website
• Hap’s Twitter Account

In early October 2004 a former Geography teacher named Rob Lilwall left the Russian city of Magadan on his bicycle, and headed for the freezing wilds of Siberia. Rob was accompanied by a University friend, Alastair Humphreys, who had reached Magadan halfway through his own round-the-world cycle and was to pedal with Rob through Siberia. Ultimately, both would cycle home to England, but in Japan they split off in different directions.

Rob went south, through Korea and China, Hong Kong, Indonesia and Papua New Guinea before coming to Australia. Somewhere on his ride down the East Coast Rob caught wind of another Australian journey that was about to begin on the Western coast. He decided he wanted to meet the protagonist, who was strangely attempting to push a skateboard across the country from Perth to Brisbane. Me!

The Eyre Highway, near the Nullarbor Plain Roadhouse

Of course, Rob and I had never met, but our courses seemed destined to converge somewhere on the Eyre Highway, regarded by some as the loneliest road in the world. Between Ceduna, SA and Norseman, WA the Eyre Hwy is the only road, stretching almost as far as John O’Groats to Lands End through the fabled Nullarbor (no trees) Plain, a barren leaf-less desert inhabited mainly by things that can kill you with a swift bite. On a daily basis there was barely anything to block the horizon from view, so the chances of Rob and I missing each other were ever so slim. Somehow though, we did.

It might seem an anti-climax, writing a blog about not meeting somebody, but the chances of us passing by each other were ever so slim. Rob knew I was on the way thanks to the Nullarbor Wire, a wholly natural phenomenon that transpires when everybody you meet has travelled along exactly the same path as you for hundreds of miles and is desperate to share any glimpse of the original. ‘He’s a few hundred k’s back’ they’d tell him, then day by day the distance would get shorter until the unimaginable - ‘he’s past here now mate, came through yesterday.’ It wasn’t even as if we were lone figures passing in the night, I had three vehicles with me for goodness sake, decorated to the nines with ‘BoardFree’ stickers. The conclusion, simply, was that Rob had decided to lunch behind the only rock on the Nullarbor just as I skated past. So close…

You may wonder, as we didn’t meet on our respective journeys, how I even heard about Rob. I was preparing to attend a night of Adventurous lectures, which just happened to be organised by Alastair Humphreys, when an email came through from an old school friend of mine, telling me how he’d just read a book by a chap called Rob Lilwall and I’d got a mention. That evening, at the function, one of the speakers was Rob, and finally, back home in London, we met. I thoroughly recommend Rob’s book, Cycling Home from Siberia. A wonderfully written and tacitly honest account of the trials one experiences on such a mission, and from what I could see there was only one mistake in Rob’s story which might just offer another reason to why we missed each other on The Plain - he had been expecting to meet a Welsh skateboarder!

Buy Cycling Home from Siberia from Amazon

Read Rob’s Online Diary from his journey

Visit the Official BoardFree website, Skating Australia, and buy the book, BoardFree, from Amazon

Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t met Sebastian Terry. Right now, as we research the damaging effects of sleep deprivation, this is one of those times.

This might possibly be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I won’t speak for Seb, but staying awake for 72 Hours is No. 72 on his list of 100Things, so this is all his fault. Tomorrow morning (Sunday 28th) we will wake early, and then attempt to stay awake until the same time on Wednesday morning; I feel like crying.

On a personal level, I have absolutely no reason to stay up that long except to support a mate through a challenge, and right now that’s a perfectly decent reason (however sad it makes me!). It’s difficult to imagine, but doable all the same, and here lies a direct comparison to endurance journeys: staying awake is going to be a psychological effort dependent on my wanting to make it all the way through. Next year I’ll undertake at least three 1000-mile expeditions on three continents, so I’m treating the next few days as a little bit of mental training for some longer journeys to come.

The Countdown Awaits

We’re setting about the 72 Hour Project part-methodically. I say part, because while we’ve recognised the need to fill the days with activities that will both keep us busy and give us something to look forward to, we’re also waking up in Sydney and then flying to Melbourne – a recipe for disaster for me, as having tipped past 31 years of age a month ago I now tend to fall asleep whenever I’m put into a chair.

Should we make it to Melbourne tomorrow night without napping, the schedule below will hopefully keep us motivated until Wednesday morning. In the meantime, any good company or suggestions for activities in Melbourne would be gratefully appreciated, and words of support through the Internet Wires will all serve to keep us going. As always, there’s a touch of charity here, we’re raising money for Camp Quality’s work with kids who have been affected by Cancer, and the AV Foundation’s ongoing efforts to supply drinking water to communities in Sub Saharan Africa. If you fancy pledging a few pence per hour we manage to stay awake, you can do so at www.justgiving.com/expedition1000

72 HOURS AWAKE: THE SCHEDULE

Sunday 28th November
6am: Wake Up in Sydney
6:30am: Go Fishing in the Pacific Ocean
6pm: Plane to Melbourne
8pm: Dinner with Friends
9pm: Luna Park Rollercoasters

Monday 29th November
9am: Meeting with scooter company who are supporting Seb’s Scooter Across Oz
10am: Buy water pistols to keep each other awake
10:30am: Visit Doctor for professional advice
11am: State Hockey and Netball Centre, giving inspirational talk to children
12pm: Wheelchair Basketball @ State Hockey & Netball Centre: Seb & I captain opposing teams featuring Aussie celebrities and members of the Australian Paralympics basketball team
8pm: 3 minutes each on stage @ Stand Up Comedy at Spleen, 41 Bourke St
9:30pm: Radio Interview with Sports Entertainment Network, 1116khz

Tuesday 30th November
4am: Drive to Warragul, Gippsland
6am – 10am: Breakfast Radio with Star FM, including making a sandwich called ‘Seb Terry’, filming a TV Commercial
12pm: Teaching Paralympic Athlete Kathleen Kennedy to surf
6pm: Salsa Lessons @ Amber Lounge, Lonsdale St
8pm: Speed Dating (a special event organised by www.fastimpressions.com.au)

Wednesday 1st December
6am: Bed time!

I write from Hervey Bay, the northernmost tip of our Australian Hundreds & Thousands Speaking Tour. These are heady heights for me, but alas! No more of the whimsical ‘ah, I recognise that rest stop, skated there back in [insert necessary date] 2007’ moments that have long since driven Seb to distraction. The road clear of Brisbane has been refreshingly new and our schedule has deliciously compacted, feeding our joint eagerness for experience.

For the sake of spicing up our tour documentary Seb and I have decided to have a bloke-off, pitting ourselvs head to head in a variety of very serious disciplines. Heading north we came across a Go Karting track and popped in, a chance decision that resulted in a five-lap race between the two of us and Charlie, a ten year-old with a sharp mouth and a predictable nickname – Stig! Sadly, being a non-driver, I was pipped to the post by both Seb and Charlie in the karts, but revenge was on the cards when we brought the skateboards out. A one-lap race (for which I gave Seb a little head-start) ended in him stacking face-first into the grass and then being mauled by a large dog. Quite funny. Thanks so much to Hervey Bay GoKartTrack for their welcome, it made our day!

Charlie challenges Seb and I to a karting showdown

Later on that day in Hervey Bay we briefly met Gabriel, who had driven down to loan us a FreeCross, a cross-trainer on wheels upon which I’ll travel a thousand miles across Europe next Spring (watch this space for more on the Freecross). Then to dinner with Hazel and Andy. Hazel had been a great help at the beginning of my Murray paddle last year and showed me her new iPod, upon which she’d engraved the words ‘It’s Time’, the same motto embroidered onto my trans-Oz skate shoes.

It's Time - is there a better motto for life?

‘What is it with you and all these random gadgets?’ asked Al, who I’d just bumped into on a Waterloo back street inciting a most puzzled look to appear on his face. I was stood high on a brand new contraption called a Freecross, which had been developed by some stereotypically efficient Germans to replicate the physical benefits of a cross trainer - but in the great outdoors as opposed to a stuffy gym.

Al, having cycled around the world and walked across Iceland amongst other things, is not avoid of experiencing fresh air or enjoying adventure, but I can see incredulity in his eyes. And I get his point, I’m used to it. In the past I haven’t always chosen to travel in a way that would satisfy the purists. Skateboard, Aquaskipper, and now this. A Freecross? Really?

Well, yes. You see, if you can travel in a new way, everything else becomes new and different, the planet gleams in clean light. Give me a road with some ups and down and trees at the side. Let me skate along it, stood sideways when not pushing. And then I’ll go back and cycle the same way. And then again, perhaps on a pogo stick. Varying experiences, each one. Same road. Your body reacts differently to the stresses of alternate travel, those who pass by double-take in entirely different fashions, even at a simple level; I see the road from a different height and speed. As someone who bores easily, travelling by new means is a drip of happiness, one made easier by my indifference to anyone who might consider me to look like a plonker.

Al had been out for a wander, looking to pass a few minutes before a meeting, so the game was set. On a Freecross he jumped. A familiar, initial confusion at how it works, and then he’s off over a speedbump and down the road. We’re all cautious at first, unsure of how it balances, turns and progresses. But then it clicks, how fun! He was smiling when he returned, although it might have been a silent laugh aimed in my direction.

The Freecross is next on a long list of non-motorised methods of transportation that I’m preparing to take one thousand miles. After four years of grafting away at individual projects, Expedition1000 has given me long-term focus in my Adventuring career. Twenty-three more journeys await, they will take me all over the world to every continent, both poles and across every ocean. This isn’t a suggestion, it’s going to happen. I will occasionally become acceptable by jumping on a bicycle or rowing a boat, but there will be times when I stray from the beaten track and cross an ocean by pedalo, or, as we will see in March 2010, I might ride a Freecross 1000 miles through Europe.

Which leads me to an answer for Al’s question. Firstly, I have forged a career out of travelling, writing, speaking, filming and, most importantly, playing with new toys. That sounds quite fun, doesn’t it?! I love that I can walk down a high street in London as I did in Camden one month ago and spot from afar a thing on wheels that looks like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Then, before approaching and assessing the situation, I feel completely at ease when deciding to travel 1000 miles on this thing that is still about 50 metres away. I made the decision, I approached, thankfully I liked the look of it, and this time next year I daresay that anyone visiting my website will be much more familiar with a Freecross because it will have been the focus of a quite enjoyable - if not sometimes difficult - expedition. To start you off, and to finish the blog in one foul swoop, here’s a video of a group of us enjoying the Freecross experience on London’s Southbank a couple of weeks ago. Thanks to Tobias Mews for the edit.

I knew he’d be trouble the first time he wrote to me. ‘Dave, I’d like to ride a scooter across Australia….’ Sebastian Terry told me. I attract his kind, but most of them finish writing and decide that they were being stupid. Not Seb.

That was in 2008. Two years later we met in person, and the first thing we did was take most of our clothes off and break lots of eggs together. Three days later Seb broke the world record for the number of eggs crushed between big toes in 30 seconds. Pretty standard behaviour for a man ticking off a list of 100Things he’d quite like to do before he dies

A month after that we Stand Up Paddleboarded some 85km across Lake Geneva, and since then the ideas have been flowing. Just last week Seb called me, at 2am. I was asleep. The message he left was quite wonderful, though, and fuelled by what I’d imagine to be things beginning with B and ending with EER. As someone on the lookout for non motorised ways in which to cover 1000 miles, it was quite a tasty message, here it is:

Check out www.davecornthwaite.com for the Expedition1000 story so far

On Saturday 3rd July the old paddleboarding double-act links up again, when Sarah Outen and I deliver a joint lecture at this year’s Blue Mile: Race For The Environment. Come along folks, you’ll dig it.