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9
- 8 - 2006 The Simple Life
 Lucy
and I have been living in the campervan for 8 months now. Two years ago, we
had both begun to realise that our whole society had become slaves to an economic
system - the success of which depends on us all competing with each other.
It had been gradually dawning on me that this great big competition (I think
it's called the Free Market Economy) has the appearance of creating a stable,
peaceful society when in reality that society had become a money-hungry monster,
feared by all its enemies. When well-fed, this monster seems benign, but at
the slightest threat to its economic security, the beast will destroy anything
and anyone in its path.
By the time I was sacked from my job in
2005, I had become thoroughly convinced that capitalism was based on
 greed,
and was thus diametrically opposed to generosity and love. All around me were
people with real needs, yet their needs could not be bought with money. I knew
people who had never gone hungry, yet were starving for real friendship, desperate
for a dose of unconditional love. How could such people be helped? The monster
was useless: We'd all been too busy working for money to stop and care. And
yet, here we both were, out of work, time on our hands and a desire in our hearts
to 'make a difference'... So we had an easy choice - quickly find another
full-time job before next month's mortgage payment was due, or get out. We got
out!
We sold the house, paid all our debts
and bought a campervan. Sinc e
then we have been finding out how to live a simple and frugal life - using
as few resources as possible and trying not to feed the 'monster' of capitalism
any more. We park on the street, survive healthily on thrown away food and look
for opportunities to do good and useful stuff with 'no strings attached'. The
'no strings' bit is quite important to me. I am desperate to escape the 'deal'
mentality that has governed my life for so long - I'm trying to learn how to
love people unconditionally, and not be so ridiculously dependent on whether
I'm paid or rewarded in some way.
Our choice of lifestyle has been influenced
hugely by the life and teachings of Jesus. We have both been thrilled and transformed
by this man. He taught and lived a radical new way of living motivated by love,
and consistently warned against the pursuit of wealth as if it were an
 addictive
drug that would ruin us all. Looking back at my life, I can see that he was
right - an obscene amount of my time and energy has been absorbed
and controlled by a disease I never knew I had - Affluenza! Jesus made the most
outrageous challenge to his followers - to sell what they had and give to the
poor. He assured them that they didn't need to worry about whether they'd have
clothing and food - because God would provide it. He reminded them that birds
don't even have jobs or larders, because God feeds them. I am beginning to see
that this is not religious pie-in-the-sky, but true. It is also the only
way to live a life free from slavery!
There was a time when I believed that
working for money was a human responsibility, and I was angry with those who
didn't 'pull their weight' and contribute financially to the society they lived
in. But it is becoming increasingly evident to me that my neighbour's greatest
need is not financial support, but love. My working life effectively
disabled me from living a life motivated by love for my neighbour,
and actually increased my desire to live for what I can get, rather
than what I can give. My decision to 'quit the rat-race' and live a frugal life
is simply the result of a growing awareness that I'm a lifelong addict
in desperate need of detox!
Lucy and I share a desire to be radically
engaged in living lives motivated by love, as Jesus did. However, we have found
such idealism to be shockingly impossible! Despite the disappointment, I am
sure of one thing: I am finally through with that foolish notion that money
has any real value. It cannot buy faith, hope or even love!
My lifelong addiction to affluence - being
able to have what I want, when I want it - has left scars - I have been both
blinded and crippled by a lifetime of addiction. But I'm not dead! I'm even
getting some sight back... even if it's only far enough to see my own disability.
And the wonder of it all? It's alright being disabled! This partially sighted
cripple is being set free... free from having to have something, be
someone or get somewhere. I am sitting at the side of the road writing
this, and somehow, inexplicably, I am feeling richer and more alive than I've
ever been in my whole life!
16 - 8 - 2006 Stealing
Nobody's perfect - we'd all agree with that. But when it comes to vices, most
of us seem to believe that there are two types - ones that we'd rather describe
as 'faults' or 'weaknesses', and those we'd categorise as 'downright wrong'.
The former group of failings are usually the type from which we ourselves have
suffered on various occasions, while the latter are the kind of stuff that scoundrels
and criminals get up to.
Most 'law-abiding citizens' (whether religious
or non-religious) would include stealing in the 'downright wrong' category.
Religious folks will generally know that 'do not steal' is the Eighth Commandment,
they may call it an 'abomination to God' and may say that they wouldn't associate
with anyone who steals. Non-religious people are more likely to argue for a
need for 'law and order' and the prevention of 'antisocial behaviour'. But whatever
our beliefs, most of us would argue that there's something fundamentally wrong
with taking what isn't ours.
The funny thing is, we all do it every
day, all the time! We have a deeply ingrained notion that we 'own' things,
but we don't. The whole concept of personal ownership stems from our greed:
if I 'own' an orchard, I can have all the fruit for myself, or make money out
of people who don't have orchards. But nobody really owns land - If you
own property you may have title deeds and you probably paid a lot of money for
it, but somewhere down the line the land you call yours was stolen. Landowners
are simply in possession of stolen property.
At the moment, nobody has dared to
claim ownership of air. But that doesn't mean we're not stealing it by taking
more than we need, by spoiling it, by failing to conserve it. 'But,' I hear
someone say, 'it's free - it's there for us all to share'. OK then, shouldn't
we each only use the air we need for life? Shouldn't we conserve it,
preserve it, and stop loading it with hydrocarbons from our cars? How many sheets
of toilet paper can you use from the public toilet before you're a thief - One?
Ten? The whole roll? How many days sick can you justly take from your employer
- just those when you're too sick to be any use at all? How much attention can
you receive from your GP before you're abusing the system, how many favours
from a friend (or minutes of his time) before you'd call yourself a thief?
The shocking truth is that there is
not one person who does not take what isn't theirs! Not one! Even
more shocking is the realisation that every vice - once you pull it out of its
box and have a close look at it - is common to us all. We all lie, we all lust,
we all hate, we all covet. Yet we continually kid ourselves into thinking we
don't - or at least, not as much as the riff-raff down the street!
My purpose of writing all this is not
to burden anyone with guilt, but to help us to see ourselves as God sees us
- in all our naked helplessness. Because then we'll be leaning on Him, and I'd
guess we'd be a whole lot slower in condemning each other.
16 - 8
- 2006 Latest travels - London to Cornwall to London.
 Lucy
and I attended a couple of StoptheWar demonstrations in London
(photo) to campaign for peace, before heading down to Cornwall. We've been
enjoying the relaxed way of life of the people and exploring the
beautiful countryside. We stayed at our friends Beth and
Alan (photos) for a bit - they run a smallholding
just outside Newquay and have three children, Kezziah, Oak and Ocean. We then
did a bit of travelling around, mainly looking for places to paraglide. We had
some lovely flying over the dunes at Perran Sands a few days ago, and found
a gorgeous site called St Agnes Head a few miles further down the coast yesterday.
I had a couple of blissful hours flying above the rugged coastline and took
quite a few pictures from the air. At the top of the cliffs is the picturesque
 remains
of an old tin mine - an attraction for walkers - and at the bottom ragged rocks
and foaming sea. Taking off near the mine, I soared along the ridge over-flying
Chapelporth beach (photo), and watching surfers riding the waves far below
(photos). At one point a Peregrine falcon flew past
me and later another bird of prey I didn't recognise. It was a truly amazing
experience, and I snapped away with the phone camera, feeling tremendously privileged
to be up there.
20 - 10 - 2006
Difficulties in loving
I hated my wife today. My anger burned and I just wanted to hurt Lucy
for her apparent indifference to my feelings. And I did. I'm sure many people
will want me to explain why I didn't walk away, why I didn't pray for grace
or count to ten. But in that moment I had no desire to be gracious. That's the
power of anger: Something in me said, "That's it! Enough's enough - you have
every right to explode!" and armed with such justification, I exploded.
For those who don't know me, I just want
to say that I'm sold out on the idea of unilateral forgiveness. I hate my attitude
when I'm unforgiving and resentful. I have no wish to justify myself, nor do
I see any benefit in self-recrimination. I am repulsed by the utter selfishness
I displayed today and my reason for dragging this whole sordid thing out into
the open is the hope that it will somehow help me (and you) to live a peace-filled
life.
After a lot of thinking, my conclusion
is that I can't help myself. I am not saying I wouldn't wish to be different.
I do. But I seem no more able to stop myself hating as I can make myself loving.
This conclusion has been curiously liberating for me. For a start, if I can't
change me then only God can, and if he's not changing me, it must be because
it's OK that I'm like this right now. This fact preserves my sanity, saves me
from getting disappointed in myself and defends me from guilt. But the truly
liberating aspect of seeing my utter inability, is a growing awareness that
this is the very cure for my problem! Looking back at all the times I've
tried to persuade people to be kind (or forgiving or generous or hospitable
or truthful), I realise that my big mistake was thinking that by their own resolve
and strength they could improve their character. And the supposition that people
can improve their character - but deliberately choose not to - is the
very thing that justified me for being angry with Lucy in the first place.
29 - 10 - 06 Identity Crisis
For the last year I've been adjusting to the life of a man who is thoroughly
committed to never working for his living again. This takes a lot of explaining
to most people - much of the time I feel misunderstood and sometimes I feel
scorned. I think I understand such reactions - I wouldn't have understood myself
a few years ago! I just wish I could persuade everyone that the greatest need
of every person is not to succeed, not to become anything, not to obtain, but
simply to love. For me, my deepest longing is to live a life of love, and anything
that dulls this longing is not worth keeping.
But as I argue the case for living by
faith, and try to tell people about how good it is to be free from being measured
by what I do for a living, I find a fatal flaw in my argument: I am constantly
tempted into trying to justify my new life and validating the way I spend my
time. More than ever, I feel a need to find evidence of the good I am now doing
for humanity and prove how much more productive my life has become since I stopped
working for money. So here I am, still shackled by PRODUCTIVITY.
Yesterday, as these thoughts raged in
my mind and hopelessness engulfed me, Lucy read out a section from the book
she's reading - Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution:
"What would a twenty-year-old Jesus have said if they asked him, "what
are you going to do when you grow up?" I don't know, maybe something like, I'm
going to turn the world upside down. I'm going to hang out with prostitutes
and tax collectors until people kill me." Or what would Peter have said? "Well
I was going to be a fisherman, but then I met this dude, and he messed all that
up."
I was hugely encouraged. We'd just been
given the book by a friend we met recently called Lucy Smith. I felt instantly
very grateful to my wife for reading me that section, to Lucy Smith for giving
the book to us, to the author for writing it, and so on. All of a sudden the
clouds cleared, and I could see that none of them had acted out of obligation
- to prove their value to the world. All they were each doing was acting out
of an impulse as natural as breathing - the impulse to love!
8 - 1 - 2007 Computer
Problems
Some things you just can't do without, can you? I have been computerless for
eight weeks now, and for all my wanting to be less materialistic, I have sorely
missed my laptop. It would have been bearable if it had been flyable, but I
haven't had my glider out for nearly two months, and I'm pathetically fidgety
when I haven't got off the ground in a while.
The laptop's been a marvellous way of
keeping in touch with friends, playing games, watching films, keeping this blog
up-to-date, playing music, etc. It has become our little communications and
entertainment centre in the camper, so the last two months were clearly a necessary
lesson - if only to show that life actually does continue - with or without
paragliders and laptops! Anyway, computer problems are getting sorted, and I've
had some thoughts I'd like to put down and some adventures to report, so watch
this space!
16 - 1 - 2007 Stealing
- Revisited
When we first started using unsecured wireless internet connections, we had
people asking questions on the legitimacy of using a service we hadn't paid
for. We thought about it, and concluded that if we knew who the subscriber was,
it would be good to ask him. But as we didn't, we treated wireless connections
like water taps - if it was obvious who owned it, we'd ask. If not, (and it
wasn't being used for something else) we would just take what we needed. People
with principles rooted in Capitalism found this attitude disgraceful, and I
guess some of the internet subscribers would be offended if they knew that their
connection had been used in their absence by someone who hadn't paid for the
privilege. However I have heard of one person who deliberately left his home router
unsecured so that 'wardrivers' could use it.
When petrol money gets tight, we tend
to stay in one place, and when we do, the batteries go flat. We have often parked
on a hill (which is less comfortable for sleeping) so that we can start the
vehicle if the battery's dead. There are times when I've wished people were
more open to our parking in their drive so we could hook up overnight and charge
our batteries. The cost of electricity would be pretty negligible. Parked right
under a street lamp the other night, it occurred to me that we were next door
to a ready supply of electricity! I did a bit of research (basically inspecting
every street lamp in the area) and discovered that once inside the hatch, connecting
up is easy. The hatches have a variety of basic locks (mostly of the triangular
key variety) and inside is a simple, fused 240v ac circuit. The easiest way
to connect up is to pull out the fuse. This method leaves the light out (and
leaves the cable to the van electrically unprotected) so I'm currently trying
to figure out a better solution.
While furtively conspiring to access a
Kennington lamp post last night I discovered that I attracted a lot less suspicion
by avoiding all efforts of furtivity. I adopted a street lighting technician's
swagger (if there is such a thing!) as I loudly clunked the lid onto the pavement
and unravelled my cables! I have often been quite forceful in my arguments for
sharing, and quick to point out that stealing is the waste and abuse of resources,
not the failure to pay for them. And so I felt rather hypocritical as
I got into bed at 2 AM, realising that I'd squandered over five hours of free
electricity aimlessly surfing the net and downloading stuff I definitely didn't
need! The next day someone stole our mobile, and as always, Lucy was
pointing out the hypocrisy of my anger, and suggesting that the thief might
actually be more deserving or worthy of the phone than ourselves. Hmm.
17 - 1 - 2007 Child support?
Lucy and I went to a park to play tennis and as darkness fell we got into a
conversation with a boy and two girls aged between 10 and 12. They seemed intrigued
when we told them we lived in the camper, and came over to have a look. It was
windy, dark and cold, and Lucy asked if they wanted to get in. They declined,
but we showed them the interior, talked about our life and showed them some
of the food we'd salvaged from supermarket bins that day. A park warden arrived
to lock up, so one of the girls suggested we moved the bus outside the gate
to carry on chatting there, so we did.
The boy was nervous of the warden, and
said he thought he was calling the police. After a couple of minutes they said
they had to go, and the moment they'd gone, the warden parked his van right
behind us (blocking us in) and tapped on my window. He asked if we knew the
children and wanted to know why we'd be making conversation with children we
didn't know. I told him we did it all the time, and he said he'd called the
police. He told me he was concerned for the safety of the children and suspicious
of the way we'd behaved towards them, and insisted we stayed there until the
police arrived. His concerns seemed genuine, and I felt curiously pleased that
he'd taken such a bold decision, and told him so. We chatted for a while (with
me trying to allay his suspicions) until the police to arrived.
The police asked similar questions to
those the warden had asked, checking me for any police history, and ending up
advising us not to engage with random children in future, and certainly not
to invite them to get in. Lucy asked why it could possibly be wrong, and the
policeman just said that we'd only end up being arrested if we did, so he was
advising us not to. As the police drove away, the children suddenly reappeared.
The'd been watching from behind the hedge for about an hour, and wanted to know
what had happened. After we told them the story, they had to go home. As they
left, we sat and pondered how crazy the world has got, where normal interaction
with children is regarded as inappropriate, and violators of this unwritten
rule treated with fear and suspicion.
I thought it was good that the warden
acted to defend the children from a perceived threat, but that his judgement
was clouded by our society's collective conscience. We live in a climate of
fear which causes people to jump to conclusions and overreact to perceived dangers.
The warden had called the police before even talking to us - or the children.
It is highly likely that he also judged me by my appearance, my age, my campervan,
the fact that I'm male, etc. Mixed in with all these negative stereotypes is
a fear of abnormality: If I'd lived in a house, had a 9 - 5 job, had shaved
that morning, not been wearing a woolly hat (and sandals!) I would have posed
a less threatening figure.
But the most worrying thing for
me is the safety of children growing up in an environment in which they are
socially segregated. The average citizen is becoming increasingly reluctant
to engage children, lest they be perceived by society as some kind of 'pedo'.
They defend such reluctance as a necessary step to ensure the safety of children,
but really their behaviour is deeply harmful to the children they are claiming
to protect. By discouraging adult interaction with children, we are isolating
kids from a wealth of warmth and wisdom. Thus isolated, they inwardly crave
the smallest sign of attention and interest, which puts them into a far more
dangerous position. The few who pose a real threat to kids now have a huge advantage:
Children deprived of friendship, love and attention are the most vulnerable
prey of all.
10 - 2 - 2007 Flying again!
It was such a delight to be back in the air this week after such a long
gap (see picture below - taken from campervan window). The high pressure over the UK looked
 like promising predictable flying
weather, so we set off for Devil's Dyke. Camping on the hill is relatively luxurious
at the Dyke: There is a wonderful view, level ground and - in the restaurant
- a proper toilet! We stayed a few
days, and experienced excellent flying conditions in a light N - NE wind. The
air was cold, the sun warm and when the inversion dissipated the thermals
were quite demanding and punchy. I felt in an adventurous mood and suggested
to the other pilots that we head West along the ridge to Tottington and back
(about 7k round trip) but nobody wanted to come. It can be a very long trudge back if
you land out (I know from experience!), so I understood their reticence.
Anyway, I set off down the ridge on my own, covering 3k in under 10 minutes
(thanks to a tailwind), not at all sure I'd make it back against the wind. The return
was quite a challenge, but the thermals supplemented the unreliable ridge
lift and 40 minutes later I was back at the Dyke.
I'd forgotten
how wonderful soaring can be, and definitely forgotten that complex mix of emotions
which make soaring so special: During flight, most pilots feel a sense of
vulnerability. The view is frequently breathtaking. The air is fluid,
complex and hard to predict and there is a constant need to plan ahead to
allow for variation. Often you are flying near other pilots or close to
the ground, so you need to maintain a high level of mental focus and spatial
awareness. When landing there is an immediate sense of relief. After a few seconds this
feeling fades (a bit
longer if the conditions are difficult) and is replaced by a sense of
general exuberance. Then, over the next few minutes (and hours!) the flight is relived - the mind now free from the
constraints of responsibility. (Above: view from the camper window. Below:
3D GPS tracklog
of flight in Google Earth)
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14 - 2 - 2007
Boycott Valentines Day!
I have been called Scrooge quite a few times in my life. In fact,
I'm quite infamous for not giving Becky so much as a card for her birthday
and considered as a negligent father for failing to furnish her with
presents at Christmas. Many years back I came to the conclusion that such
traditions were generally unhelpful, but it took a few more years before I
started to feel brave enough to risk the disappointment of my daughter (and
the scorn of everyone else) and put my belief into practice. Since then I
have become gradually bolder, although my heart has occasionally felt pangs
of guilt, especially when I would overhear Becky trying to explain to a
concerned friend why her Dad didn't get her anything for Christmas. But with
every obligation-free year, I have become more free - free to live from the
heart, to be spontaneous, to be the "odd man out", to work out for myself
what and when to give. I'm still pretty stingy, but I am free - free to not
feel bad about my stinginess!
Yesterday, it seemed as if the whole
world (well the whole of Brighton anyway|) was gearing up to celebrate St
Valentine's Day. I wondered how my single friends were coping. I know some
of them well enough to know that it would be their hardest day of the year.
I also know that annual UK suicide figures peak at Christmas, and it got me
wondering how many hurting hearts hide behind closed doors each Valentines
Day. There has been a growing international campaign against buying into the
Christmas hype called
Buy Nothing Day,
and I wondered if we could have a similar idea for Valentines Day. Yesterday
I took a look at my old friend Steve Whiffen's website,
Take the Red Pill and
was heart-warmed by an article succinctly entitled "Stuff
Valentines Day" which seemed to be echoing my thoughts. Thanks Steve -
I'm not alone!
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6 - 3 - 2007 Freecycling
We came across the concept of "Freecycle" a couple of years back. The
idea is to keep useful stuff out of landfill by offering it as a gift to
other people in the local community, and communicates this through internet
groups, such as
Freecycle Brighton. The ethos of Freecycle is clear and uncomplicated
(although imperfectly implemented!) and I have been heartened by the
willingness of some people to give away valuable things to strangers. A
couple of months ago we had our mobile phone stolen halfway through an
18-month contract with 3G. The company sent us a new sim for nothing, but
wanted a fortune to replace the phone. We asked Freecyclers if anyone had a
3G-compatible mobile they didn't need and were absolutely taken aback by the
willing response. We are now back on our old number with a fully-functioning
mobile phone! Freecyclers even gave us bikes to replace the one stolen a few
months ago, and such unconditional generosity has sparked a desire in me to
be more generous myself. We all have stuff we don't need or would be more
useful to others, so let's get
Freecycling!
12 - 3 - 2007 Brighton
We have been kicking around in Brighton for the best part of 6 weeks
now, and I feel it's time to describe our
 adventures
and explain ourselves a bit. We came for a day or two but met some
 good
friends, and in particular a man with a kindred spirit, Simon (photo right
with wife Isabel). I have been delighted to meet someone with longings so
close to mine, and have spent as much time as possible in Simon's company.
Apart from this affinity, we got to know a couple of guys whose friendship
we came to depend on. Widnes Wayne made his flat a place of welcome and
Leprechaun Mark (temporarily homeless) made music with us and gave Lucy his
violin. Mark parked his car next to ours each night and would pop in for a
peppermint tea before turning in. Lucy and I were pleasantly surprised by
the people of Brighton's general acceptance of our nomadic lifestyle and
dishevelled appearance. They even
 seem
to accommodate the sight of a grubby-looking camper parked outside their
house without instantly phoning the police - quite a contrast to Bromley!
The town is quite central to a range of good flying sites, so I have enjoyed
a number of hours soaring over these beautiful downs and coastal cliffs
(photos; Devils Dyke takeoff, over Mount Caburn car park). Some of the
flying was in fairly thermic conditions, and it was really exciting learning
to cope with the surges and centre on the thermals. Hooked up to a Brighton
streetlamp, we were rumbled by a street lighting electrician, who, after the
initial shock of finding a cable leading from his lamp post to our camper,
was delightfully non-judgemental of our "parasitical leeching of taxpayer's
resources". He even appeared to be impressed by my wiring, saying, "you're
quite a sparky, aren't you?"
26 - 4 - 2007 Cornwall Again
We came to Cornwall to house-sit for our friends Beth and
Alan (see
16 - 8 - 2006 Latest travels)
while they went on holiday. It seemed a nice idea - to spend time in a house
and enjoy Cornwall again. Yet somehow the simple task of house-sitting
quickly turned into running a small farm! Since our last visit, Beth and
Alan had accum ulated
more chickens, planted some vegetables and acquired some ducks. One of their
cats has just given birth to kittens, and... they now keep goats!
Goats are strong-willed creatures that require regular milking and feeding.
They like to escape. If they don't want to be milked, the kick and struggle
and make your life hell. The only reward for this long and bitter struggle
between man and beast is a pale of pure, fresh and nutritious goats milk -
at which point the goat artfully side-steps and puts her contaminated hoof
into the pale. Goats plan mischief. They bleat plaintively when you come to
them with food, but as you leave you can see them whispering
conspiratorially to each other, planning their next escape. They know
exactly where there's a fault in the electric fence, and climb through it.
When you finally track down the problem and repair the fence, they jump it -
cleanly and easily, just to demoralise you and make you realise your time
was wasted. Despite such treachery, Lucy and I have come to love these
devious animals, and we can't quite imagine life without them now. (Picture
right - Lucy the goat girl)
This coastline is riddled with gorgeous soaring sites, and I've done quite a
lot of flying. It is a year now since I enrolled
 with Andy Shaw at Green
Dragons as a trainee paragliding instructor, and I have been keen to observe
other schools and instructors in operation. I first met Senior Instructor
Graham Phipps at last
year's BHPA instructors conference and hooked up with him on arriving in
Cornwall. I've hung out at his hang gliding / paragliding school whenever
possible, learning lots, mucking in with a bit of teaching and marshalling
and getting some winch tows in. Graham's school offers tandem flights
(picture right) and teaches both hang gliding and paragliding to Club Pilot
level - almost exclusively on tow. Students are then offered hill launch
conversion endorsements once CP qualified. I have felt really privileged to
feel so befriended and included by these people, and I am learning a
lot from them. Among Phippsy's lesser-known skills is an ability to
simultaneously keep an eye on students in the air while spotting four-leaved
clovers on the ground (picture left). See other pictures
here.
2 - 6 - 2007 Spain
We're just back from a wonderful couple of weeks in
Spain. Lucy's parents paid for us both to
fly out to see her nanny and granddad in Motril, and even gave us some money
to spend too. Most of it immediately went on hiring a 125cc scooter so we
could go exploring, and off we headed into the back roads, enjoying
the little Spanish villages and having our breath taken away by the
mountains.
 One of the main highlights of this trip for both of us was
our visit to a remote hippy community called Beneficio. We had heard about
this group of people living up in the hills and outside "the system" and rode to Orgiva to
search them out. While searching for hippies we came across a disheartened Johann, Andy
and Nico in their broken down VW LT. They were French, spoke little English
and didn't know how to find the commune. But they were desperate for any help to get their bus on the road, as they had been stuck there for a month
since attempting to replace a leaking fuel pipe. We spent a few hours trying to work out
w hat was wrong w ith their engine and helped them get it started before
hurrying back to Motril in the gathering darkness. Lucy's nan knew tha t the Beneficio hippies descended on Orgiva
on market day, so we returned to the area on Thursday to find a lively
Spanish market and a whole bunch of interesting people. Lucy spoke to a
Czech girl called Merca who lived at the commune and she showed us how to
find them. As the market closed, the commune members could be seen gathering
the unsold fruit and vegetables and bringing it together in the middle of
the square. They all then joined hands in a ring of thankfulness around the
feast and began to eat the fruit. The rest was put in a van to be taken up
to the commune.
  Arriving at Beneficio for the first time is quite an
experience: The rough dirt track gives nothing away until you round a bend
and come to a car park full of well-travelled vans and buses. At the far end
of the car park a little footpath winds up the hill beside a bubbling stream
and under a canopy of Eucalyptus trees. As we climbed the track up the
ravine, we could see little dwellings dotted here and there among the trees
- tepees, bamboo huts, yurts, sheds, tents, and buildings I wouldn't know
how to describe! The variety of buildings reflects the variety of people:
From Buddhist monk to cannabis-smoking Rastafarian, there seems to be a huge
spectrum of personalities, languages and cultures represented at Beneficio.
We were warmly received, generously fed and left with a sense that these
people were on to something.
The Sierra Nevada is covered in narrow and twisting
mountain roads, a truck driver's nightmare but a biker's paradise! Above Ortiva, the road twists crazily down the steep mountainside, a gauntlet
clearly thro wn to seduce the rider, a challenge no true biker could refuse.
We only had a little scooter, but before long I had convinced myself I was
Valentino Rossi, leaving my braking later and later, leaning the bike
further and further and getting the power on earlier and earlier... The
moment the centre stand touched the road we were going down. In slow motion
I watched my bare elbow scrape the tarmac and saw the bike slide across the
road on its side and into the Armco barrier, bits and pieces falling from
the topbox. We were both grazed quite badly and we nursed our wounds while I
silently cursed our lack of a first aid kit
and my error of judgement. I was wondering how we'd get ourselves to hospital and
if the bike was even rideable. Luckily the scooter's damage seemed
superf icial,
and we set off very gingerly towards civilisation
to clean ourselves up. We clearly didn't realise what a state we looked,
because the moment we arrived at MacDonald's in Almũnecar, a man was insisting on taking
us to the hospital.
As our wounds began to heal we turned our attention to
the bike. Fearful of incurring some huge penalty, I bought filler, paint and
polish and set about repairing the damaged fairings. Despite my best
efforts, the finished paint job looked dodgy in places, so before taking it
back we got it as dirty as possible. This ruse backfired, as they told us we
needed to clean it before they'd accept it. We returned with the clean bike,
the defects looking glaringly obvious. But the lady inspected it and seemed
happy, and we scuttled off like naughty children!
 On our last visit to Spain in 2004 Lucy had her first paraglider flight,
riding tandem
 with a pilot called Andy Fluhler. Since then she has qualified
as a Club Pilot, and we brought a paraglider in the hope she could fly the
same hill - solo! We were rather foolish to go so unprepared as it took us best part of a
week trying to find local clubs, find out about sites and connect with a guide.
But eventually Lucy and I, together with a cheerful Austrian pilot called
 Stefan
(see photo right) were
being driven at high speed up a steep and precarious dirt track by a guide
called Herbert. At take off, it seemed strange to me that we were the only
pilots there, and I was more than content to let Stefan (a far more
experienced pilot) launch first. But
within ten minutes he was thermalling upwards and I couldn't wait to join
him in that big blue sky! This was my first flying experience outside the UK,
and as I was preparing for take off I wondered how I would respond to this
new environment. But within a minute of launching, I began to feel at home,
hunting lift and chasing eagles.
See YouTube video
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