Our friend Antonio Macedo phoned and invited us to a special night out in Cruzeiro do Sul in The State of Acre (the back of beyond in Brazil). He wanted to introduce us to 'Daime', a very Amazonian drink that would awaken our minds, or did he mean blow our minds?

We were taken to a small clearing at the edge of Cruzeiro to a big wooden building. Inside was a large wooden table with benches either side on which twenty or so people could sit round. The decorations reminded me of a small Catholic Church, with its figurines of saints and lit candles. The congregation consisted of a few rubber tappers and a complete cross section of the people of the town, in both position and money. The town people and Brazilians generally call this drug “Santo Daime” and mix it into a sort of semi-religious, Catholic ceremony.

The Yawanawa tribe, on the other hand, think religion is nothing to do with Daime, but that it a necessity for the tribe to take it once a month too clarify the mind and get their heads together for the coming weeks. Daime is not banned in Brazil for it is a drug of a very different nature with a very special effect.

A plant that grows in the ground is mixed with a creeper that falls from a tree, thus the symbolism of the drug is that it is the sky mixed with the earth. We filed into this large hut and sat around the central table. The candles were lit around us and we were introduced as visitors who were about to go into the forest to visit the Yawanawa tribe. First Antonio spoke to the people about having great care in demonstrating against the Governor, as there was no point in upsetting him too much or many more would end up in prison, or worse, rather than solve any problems it would just add to them (another story for another time).

The ceremony proper then commenced with a general prayer for God to help them in these perilous times and then we rose and formed a queue as if going to communion. The Daime was poured out of bottles and each of us had a glass given to us and then made our way back to our seats. The drug started to take effect. We had been warned what to expect but we thought it all slightly ridiculous..

There was silence after we sat down and started to wait for Daime to take effect, the sight and smell of the flickering candles, the only light there was to see around this strange church like place. A few people were sick. This seemed an unusual start to what I had been assured was a great experience! I had been slightly unwell during the day and thought I was going to have bad case of the trots and this seemed to be the last thing I needed!

Daime has two effects and one reason it is not on the banned list is that it is remarkably good for any sort of stomach disorder. That was the good news, but the bad news was that while it cured my problem quickly, it also at the same time stopped me from enjoying the Daime in the way that I was expecting; and the real reason that Adam Baines and I were taking Daime this night.

Still, I had more opportunity to observe the others and see their reactions to the drug. Amazingly, it seemed that after being sick outside on the grass, people tended to have another dose of Daime and on being sat down again, this time it took hold. Thoughts seem to whirl around in time and space with all your life with its, good, bad, family, friends, work and pleasures in a maelstrom in which confusion you seem to be about to be engulfed. Over the next hour the confusion lessens and gradually you start to find that everything is falling into place and you become aware of what exactly you should do, to get your life in order.

At any moment during this time, you can open your eyes and feel completely free of the Daime but as soon as you close them you’re back sorting out the files in your head. Finally the drug clears the system after a total of about an hour and a half. The so called congregation sitting quietly outside, enjoying complete clarity of mind and thought, contemplating under a magnificent starry sky, in the tropical warmth, with the singing of the ‘cigarras’ intermingling with the croaking of the frogs. Everyone, whether Indians or locals, thought it extremely important to take Daime so as to get one’s life in order at least once every six weeks. All believed that it made men and women take control of their lives and less likely to have breakdowns or behave in an anti social manner. The next day I was able, with my stomach now fully recovered, to observe without too much of a sickening feeling, the roaches crawling on the ceiling above the frying pan that was cooking my breakfast!

Back in January 2004 Martin Wright, one the club’s most sociable regulars at the London Meetings, royally entertained a packed Crown Court with tales of his marathon cycle ride to Australia! Many in that audience will remember his great photos, distinctive narrative style and his thirst for adventure. Well Martin is at it again – this time he’s go back to the land down under to ‘pick up his bike and have a look round’. I think too many cold winter nights provided the motivation to get back on the road! This is the third in an occasional series, based on Martin’s emails, and charts his offbeat approach to the road ahead.

14 September: “Hello everybody… far as I remember the last time I wrote was way back in Exmouth some weeks ago. Quite a lot has happened in that time and I will try to recount some of the moments.

On leaving Exmouth I had a shocking headwind for two days which made me wonder why I left and why I do this sort of thing. Somebody suggested I must be a 'bloody stupid pommie masochist'. No prizes for guessing it was an Australian ! The distances between towns were now as much as 600 kms with a couple of roadhouses in between, which were very convenient in that I could buy supplies and have a shower but the prices were pretty bloody steep and things like bread and milk were usually out of date ! Even Mrs Mac's famous beef pies had usually been warmed through for the 10th time and as a result were almost inedible… One of the roadhouses wanted to charge me $19 for a camping spot on solid ground with no shade – I asked for a discount and was told 'if you don't like it you can xxxx off.' I did xxxx off and about 10kms along I found a very nice spot in the bush for free at which I was later joined by a French family who served me tea made with tea leaves from a teapot. Fantastic !!

Bumped into a few interesting people on the way and was almost bumped into by road-train drivers and some of the less capable caravaners. Throughout the state of Western Australia the government set up many rest areas some of which are for overnight stays – they vary in standard and size. Some you can camp a long way from the road so the noise from the passing road trains is minimal. Some are situated next to rivers which can be good for fishing or swimming but some have crocodiles in so it is advisable not to swim in these unless you are a tour bus driver and trying to impress the females on your tour… Many times I was fed and watered by the caravaners who are obviously very good drivers – sometimes the meals produced were quite amazing. At one stop I was given a starter, main course and a sweet. Beer and wine was also consumed, after I had arrived thinking I would be eating three day old sandwiches and noodles. In Broome I stayed at the Roebuck caravan park and met an English couple who fed me. I was on a mission here to fatten myself up and ate almost non stop for two days – it was a mistake as it made me feel very sick. Further on I met an English hippie called Jupiter who really was from another planet.

I was a little behind time so I had a few big cycling days ahead of me in order to get to Darwin and renew my visa. The ride from Broome to Derby was very hot but allowed me my first sighting of the Baobob tree in various shapes and sizes. The older ones having a huge girth were used by the early settlers or police to imprison the Aboriginals in the hollowed out tree trunks. Also hundreds of thousands of termite mounds abounded, some of which are thought to be over two hundred years old. Quite a few termites in each mound I reckon… The ride from Derby to Fitzroy Crossing, Halls Creek and on to Kununurra was very spectacular. As I was in a hurry I had no time to go visiting some of the famous sites of the Kimberleys – Gibb river road, horizontal waterfall, Geikie gorge, Bungle Bungles, Wolf creek crater. Maybe I will come back some day and purchase a four wheel drive vehicle…

The ride across to Katherine was also very good… was lucky now as I had a tailwind which made cycling very easy. I met six cyclists in two days: a German named Pierre?, an Australian named Ricky and an American named Rob who also camped overnight at the 62 mile camp rest area. I was quite jealous of him as he is riding a bike which I have dreamed of having for sometime – my next bike will be the same. Next day I met three more cyclists. A man & a woman on a tandem and soon after I met Gary who was riding his recumbent cycle. Rode on to Katherine where I had time for a rest day and again fed myself very well and drank a lot of beer. A hot spring ran alongside the Victoria river behind the caravan park… very nice place to relax for a while.

The ride from Katherine to Darwin was with a tail wind so I cruised along quite nicely to within 8 kms of the city centre where I found a caravan park in which to pitch my tent for a few days. I have since renewed my visa so I can stay for another six months which is plenty of time for me to cycle down to Sydney. A little fattening up here then I will be on my way…

15 October: “Hi all ! Have made it as far as Mount Isa in the police state of Queensland. Intended to stay just a couple of days although have now been here for four nights and still not ready to leave. I am staying at a place called, 'tourist haven', which is a backpacker’s hostel and sleeping in a bed for the first time since Perth, about three months ago, was an absolute delight. I had forgotten just how soft and comfortable a mattress can be ! No hard ground, no stones piercing through my sleeping mat, no ants finding their way into my food bag & sleeping bag ! No bugs flying into my tent due to the fact that it can no longer be zipped closed due to a buggered zipper ! Actually the tent is in need of replacing more due to the struggle to get out when I wake up for a pee in the middle of the night. This has resulted in my falling onto the poles and snapping three of them… also fallen onto the tent when returning to the tent after being forced to drink too much beer!

The road from Darwin to Tennant Creek I had travelled two years previously. From Tennant, I road back to a roadhouse called Threeways, across the Berkley highway to Camooweal and on to Mount Isa. Only one roadhouse before Camooweal and a few rest areas with water tanks so I had to carry a lot of food. I met Shirley once again – she is the 72 year old woman who makes me tea all the time and talks at you constantly, often repeating herself! I feel like a verbal punch bag. She often drove behind me on the road for a few kilometres, protecting me she said from the vehicles driving at a high speed. I had to pull over and make her drive on and I was glad to reach Camooweal where I was able to escape her by staying in a caravan park, while she camped down by a river. In Mount Isa I was in the presence of true greatness – his name, Heinz Stuck, who had been cycling since 1963 and visited every country in the world. Overall he’s cycled 500,000 kms and is now age 64 and still going strong ! We drank a lot of beer together and got very, very drunk…

22 October: “Hi all. Since writing from MountIsa I have had a torrid time. It was hard to leave, not because it was a town of beauty or interest – it is a mining town with very little to offer apart from a good salary if you work at the mine. It was hard to leave because I would be leaving my very comfortable bed with the thick, soft mattress. Now it was back to my tent with the broken zips, holes in the fly sheet & inner and holes in the ground sheet. The ride from MountIsa to Cloncurry was a mere 120kms but it was the hardest days riding I have had to date… It was bloody hot; 42c ! I had a headwind which kept my average speed at around 16kph, so it was a long day in the saddle. My water tasted terrible when cold and even worse when warmed by the sun. On arrival in Cloncurry I bought 2 litres of full fat milk which was drunk in very quick time… of course made me feel very sick. At the caravan park, after putting up the tent, it was straight into my sleeping bag and I slept for twelve hours.

Had a rest day before cycling onto Mckinlay, site of the Walkabout Creek Hotel, made famous in the Crocodile Dundee movies. This is a town of about 12 people and one bloody great big Goanna which seems to have the freedom to walk up & down the main street as it takes care of the snakes in the area. It frightened the living daylights out of me ! Next day was a short ride to Kynuna… to here is the site of the Billabong made famous in the Waltzing Matilda yarn by A.B. Paterson. There’s also a famous pub in town called, the Blue Heeler Hotel. A bloody good pub, with many items of clothing hanging from the ceiling and walls left by people travelling through town. Next up a very big ride followed all the way to Winton…167 kms of the most tedious landscape in Australia. The road from one horizon to another seemed exactly the same and as the morning ride was into a headwind, I thought I would be riding well into the evening.

Luckily the wind changed after a short lunch break and the afternoon ride was almost effortless. Winton is an interesting little town and the population has been increased due to a film crew in the area about to make a film. I found good food here and a pub which sells Guinness so I will partake of a few pints this very evening…

In a forest. In a bee suit. In the middle of Tanzania. 100 miles away from Mikindani. With Tony Herbert’s reputation. Most contrapuntal by anyone’s standards but after spending five days with our beekeeping mentor we knew better than to be surprised by such a situation. Our quest to obtain two stocks of bees had started on Tony’s arrival on the Saturday but this particular episode had begun at 5am that very morning.

The objective of our trip to Masasi, a settlement known for its history of beekeeping, was to purchase two hives and colonies of bees to get the apiary up and flying. With six of us packed tightly into the Land Rover we set off West with the sun on our backs basking in the ever more magnificent African sunrise. After breakfast at Mnazi Mmoja (literally translates as “coconut one” but why, no one seems to know) we reached the Regional Resources Office in Masasi at about half past ten following another particularly bruising journey on the roads of Tanzania. After being promised a meeting with the regional beekeeping liaison you can imagine our surprise to find out he had left the office not more than half an hour prior to our arrival. Needless to say, his phone was either turned off or more likely, out of signal. Had our quest for the holy pair of hives been scuppered by the absence of one man?!

Despite this set back, we were offered a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel by a man named Rodney, the temporary liaison for Natural Sciences in the Masasi district. He knew of a small village called Lipupu, around 50 miles beyond Masasi that was notorious for its beekeeping activities. It was a long shot but with Tony on board we knew that anything was possible and so the decision was made to press on.

Sure enough, faith has its rewards. We found it without any problems and were pointed straight towards the village beekeeper’s house, signified by the array of unused bee hives and interesting looking logs suspended outside his house. One problem… occupant was nowhere to be seen. We were ushered in to the woods by a group of locals keen to show us the hives kept by the owner of the intriguing house and were promised that he was not too far away and that he only left about half an hour ago. Despite being sure that we had heard those words before that day we set off in to the middle of nowhere to investigate the bees that we had been promised. We could not believe our luck when the owner of the hives appeared from within the bush and after many furrowed brows, tense looks and careful negotiation we purchased our two colonies of Apis Mellifera Scutellata, the African honey bee, to be complemented by a further two log hives worth of sting less bees. After all the setbacks of the day we felt we has earned our luck in finding this beecon (sic.) of beekeeping in an otherwise uninhabited part of Tanzania. So, as we set of widdershins, driving in to the rain, spirits were through the roof. The smile on Tony’s face produced by this accomplishment never disappeared for the rest his stay and it really was the culmination of a tiring but wonderfully productive and enjoyable week. For this we will be eternally grateful for the hard work and never ending enthusiasm of one man. Thank you Tony.