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On the 18th May, 6.47am a childhood and lifelong dream was realised when I reached the summit of Mt Everest (8850m). For a glorious 45 mins i stood on top of the world. And while i had so many things that i had to do whilst on the summit. I also allowed myself the luxury of "just taking it all in" aswell.    My journey to Everest has been a long one. Born in Melbourne, Australia  the travel bug bit early in my life. By the time i was in my early teens I was already entrenched in a world of constant travel.     Intially the goal of all my travels was for surfing. Constantly chasing the perfect wave I journeyed to the 4 corners of the globe. Born into a surfing family it was to now ones suprise that both my brother and i took to surfing and the ocean like ducks to water. My father was one of the early surfing pioneers of the area where i grew up in Torquay, Australia. Home the world famous Bells Beach. He is widely credited for having ridden the largest wave ever at Bells Beach	Plumes of ice crystals get ripped of the summit of Everest (8850m) early March 2006.
Over a 10 year period i was fortunate to visit Europe, North America, South America, South East Asia, South Africa and Western Africa  to name just a few places i stayed in whilst travelling the globe. Many times i returned to the same place over and over again. Other times i just passed through the one time. but on 8th August 1998 my place was set to change forever.    Whilst on a surfing trip to a remote part of Indonesia on the island of Lombok i was camping on the beach with a small group of friends awaiting  perfect which were due to arrive the next day. Inever got to surf those perfect waves.In the early hours of 8th August i was attacked by a group of local Indonesian thieves.A group of bandits set upon me whilst i was walking along the beach in the early hours of the morning to go warn my friend that there were thieves around.

 

    In a split second i made a judgement error and instead turning a fleeing. I chose to stand and fight. Horribly outnumbered i was attacked by a half dozen Indonesians. My right arm was 90% hacked off. My back and head also cut by the machete blows.

   Fortunately i was with friends at the time.I was carried along the beach.Placed in a car and endured a  3 hour  4WD ride to get to the closest thing they had on the island that you would call a hospital. It was then a very bumpy and turbulent plane ride to the isalnd of Bali and finally, some 13 hours late. A hospital that i could recieve proper care in.

   After 3 days in hospital i flew home to Australia. I though upon arrival my troubles were over. Little did i know they had only just begun.....

    On the 3rd day back in the Melbourne hospital the pain in my right shoulder was too much to bare.I had stopped taking pain killers after the 2nd day. When i removed the bandages i was shocked to see that the machete wound was horribly infected.I was to endure a further 4 weeks in that Melbourne hospital and 4 operations to clean and rebuild my damaged right shoulder. Which by the way was full of sand from the beach where i was attacked.

    For days it send ineviatable that the right arm would have to be removed if my life was to be saved. Everytime i awoke in my hospital bed post-surgery my father was waiting in my room for me. I always thought this to be odd. Until finally i realsied here was there to give permission to the doctors to amputate my arm should they deem it to infected and too damaged. i remember before my second operation telling the doctor that under no circumstances was he to take of my arm  off. As far as i was concerned I had had a great life. Had no regrets...except this one off course. And if i was to die, then i died knowing i lived a ful and happy life.I was not prepared to start my life again with only one arm.

    After the 3rd and most crucial operation which beforehand it had seemed likely that i may lose my arm. I remember waking up in my hospital  room and the first  thing i did was reach and feel for my arm. It was still there. The rest after this was easier. I survived the infection and kept my arm.But had to endure months of rehabilitation and depression before getting my life back on track.

   I had been told i would never be able to lift my arm above my head again.And that i would never be able to surf again either. 3 1/2 months after the accident i was back in the water surfing again.It was with great apprehension that i returned to the water.But it was not long before i was back surfing and strength was return to my withered arm and shoulder.It would never be the same.But at least i could do what i loved most of all.

   It was not long before i was back on the road travelling again.Almost 1 yr to the day i returned to the scene of my worst nightmare. All my friends were back again, and as  i paddled out into the surf, they all welcomed me back. As a set of waves came through they parted and let me take the first waves out of a sign of respect for what i had been through and where i had come from to be back in the water surfing again. It was a very proud and satisfying moment for me riding the first wave,and reflecting and how i had felt  1 yr earlier when i felt that my life asi had known it had come to an end.