Adventure #236

s a m o a
SAMOA:
BUILDING AN
ADVENTURE CAREER
ebikes at Falealupo
Don't spend your health on
your career," we were advised
at a lecture on health for
CEOs. The final challenge
was: “You can all write
business plans. This time write
a life plan."
My response was my 50/50
plan: spend 50% of my time
running adventure tours
around the world, 50% as a
business and IT consultant
with some additional time
studying risk management.
And to achieve this by the time
Kayaking in Antarctica. amongst
the brash ice.
I was 50. I was then 49 and
had became bored with the
repeating cycle of challenges
in winning and delivering
complex IT projects.
Our holidays had always
involved cycling, tramping
and rafting adventures. Now
that the kids had left home, I
had been forced to look wider
for willing participants, and
the trips had become more
extreme. I enticed my running
club mates into a month-long
adventure in South America,
By Ross Bidmead
where we ran the Inca Trail,
cycled into the Amazon and
swam with the pink dolphins.
The trip was extreme in
terms of physical and mental
effort, but also rewarding
watching the group extended
themselves and grow.
Frances, my wife, was
comfortable with the reduced
income and pleased with the
thought of a less stressed
husband. However, she
pointed out that this was 150%
of my time commitment.
2,887KMS
Distance from New Zealand
4HOURS 4OMIN
By air from Auckland
13° 45' 29.92"S.
172° 06' 17.16"W.
GPS Location
192,001
Population
Our first commercial trip,
chartering a yacht and sailing
to Antarctica to explore with
the kayak, was an exuberant
introduction to the new
lifestyle. The trip began with
an extreme stress test. Our
yacht, Spirit of Sydney, was
knocked down by a wave on
the preceding voyage. The
damage, including a bent mast
and destroyed electronics
and heating systems, had
necessitated a stay in the
Falklands for repairs. Our
group arrived in Ushuaia,
Building our house and workshop
was all hands on deck. Ross in
yellow shirt.
Argentina, to find the yacht was still
a day away from limping into port.
Decidedly concerned about the large
amounts I had been paid by each trip
member and what I would do if we
couldn't sail, we improvised exploring
the nearby National Park.
Once Spirit arrived, the crew worked
magic, provisioning the yacht, and
replacing much of the electronics in two
days. A stormy crossing of the Drake
Passage bonded our group, and as the
seas calmed, a cooking competition
developed as we sought to bake the
best bread and cook the best meals
when our watches corresponded with
galley duties. The Antarctic peninsula
exceeded our expectations as we
kayaked amongst whales and leopard
seals, spent a day in a remote penguin
colony and camped out on a glacier.
The Antarctic trip occurred before I had
found a CEO to replace me, but in 2008
I handed over the reins. To celebrate,
Frances and I chose a warmer
destination and cycled independently
around Savai'i, Samoa, on a journey
of surprising discovery. My images of
the Pacific Islands mainly had been
formed by reading "Pacific Adventure"
by Willard Price, and I imagined and
hoped for pristine white sand beaches
beside crystal clear lagoons fringed
with palms and occasional simple
native huts.
Our trip to Samoa was the least planned
and researched adventure we ever did,
and initially, we paid the price. The plane
landed at midnight at Faleolo Airport,
an hour from Apia. My quick glance at
a map before we left showed an airport
in Apia, but Fagalii Airport in Apia was
tiny, and all jets landed at Faleolo.
Eventually, we found a bus that would
take our bike boxes, and we made it to
our backpacker’s hotel by 2 am.
In the morning, we assembled our
bikes and started cycling towards what
we thought was the ferry terminal.
But the road ran out at the end of the
peninsula, and we sheepishly returned
to town to hunt down a better map.
Finally, on our way around noon, we
cycled in the midday heat back out
past the airport on the busiest road in
Kayaking through the mangroves out to the
turtle lagoon.
Samoa to the ferry terminal. There
were no beaches along the way and
continuous villages on both sides. We
were tired and sweaty and beginning
to wonder if this was one of our better
ideas.
Eventually, after a short ferry
crossing of the Apolima Strait, we
arrived at a small resort in Salelologa
on Savaii, just a kilometre from the
ferry terminal. The bar was humming,
serving unbelievably cheap drinks
to a mostly younger and lightly clad
clientele. After a long refreshing
swim, we relaxed on the covered jetty
as the sun set. It seemed perfect, but
the best was still to come.
Cycling out of Salelologa the next
morning was completely different
from the first day. There was very
little traffic on the well-sealed road.
We rode slowly in the morning
cool, admiring the numerous family
meeting fales [far-lays] set back
from the road behind immaculately
maintained gardens bursting with
colour. The road soon joined the
coast, and we cycled beside a
sparkling lagoon.
Descending Lemaire Island in
Antarctica.
The Beach Fales at Lano had a slightly
abandoned look, with the dining fale
undermined by a recent flood. As we
wondered what to do, the proprietor
appeared and welcomed us. We quickly
unpacked and jumped into the warm
sea, getting out only to grab our masks
and snorkels to explore the numerous
coral outcrops teeming with fish. It was the
perfect place to gain confidence
in snorkelling, and we swam for an hour and
were lucky enough to spot a turtle.
Beach Fales are Samoa’s equivalent of
campgrounds. Located on village land and
usually run by a family, the fales have a
wooden sleeping platform, thatched or steel
roof and matting sides. The sea breeze
provides air conditioning and is far more
comfortable than tents. They cost less than
a basic campground cabin in New Zealand,
but the rental includes dinner and breakfast.
That night we were treated to a fiafia
(traditional show). The traditional dances
had similarities to kapa haka but somehow
felt more personal, and we felt privileged
to be allowed to participate. The fiafia
culminated with a siva afi or fireknife dance
where a traditional fighting axe with blazing
petrol-soaked rags tied to the handle and
blade was twirled at high speed. Drums
beat out a fierce tattoo at an ever-increasing
tempo, and the siva complexity grew with
the dancers spinning a knife in each hand. It
looked dangerous, and all the dancers had
new knicks and burns.
The rest of our cycle around Savaii
continued in the same way, with each night
at a stunning beach. We would cycle in
the mornings and swim and snorkel every
afternoon. The bikes also introduced us to
the locals who were always interested in the
bikes and where we were going.
The mountain bike track we are building from our base
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