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“TO TRAVEL IS TO DISCOVER THAT EVERYON

E IS WRONG ABOUT OTH

ER COUNTRIES.” ALDOUS H

UXLEY|ARGENTINA

|AUSTRALIA|BAHAM

AS|BOLIVIA

|BORNEO|GERM

ANY|INDIA

|IRELAND|LAOS

|PHILIPPINES|SW

ITZERLAND|SOUTH AFRICA

www.getlostmag.com

10

INDIAAC/DC IN THE BAHAMAS

PHOTOGRAPHY TIPSAN ARGENTINEAN STEAK OUTSWISS CROSS COUNTRY MARATHON

DUBLIN IN 24 GUINNESS’S

HAIRY TALES FROM

WORLDWIDE 2006ISSUE #10 $6.95

TRAVEL CULTURE>GST INCLUDED

+

THE BERLIN LOVE PARADE

IN LAOS

IN BOLIVIA

IN THEPHILIPPINES

IN SOUTHAFRICA

SEX IN THE CITY

CAVECRAWLING

WRESTLEMANIA

AREAL CASTAWAY

GOWILD

WHITE WATER

FRENZYIN CAIRNS

GL10_COVER_06.qxd 16/8/06 5:44 PM

#40 get lost! ISSUE #10 get in the know! 98 episodes of Gilligan’s Island were originally screened in the US from 1964 to 1967.

Your very own island? No, it’s not an impossible dream. With a bit of hard work and organisation, Cheyenne Morrison has shown that man can indeed be an island. Warning: this story contains scenes that may thrill and excite some readers.

castaway confidential

text: thomas hunter

images: cheyenne morrison

philippines

M2658_PHILIPPINES PG 40-44.qxd 15/8/06 4:30 PM Page 40

get in the know! Mel Gibson reportedly purchased a private island in Fiji with the proceeds of his film, The Passion of the Christ. ISSUE #10 get lost! #41

THE DIAGNOSIS IS NOT LIFE THREATENING, BUT‘islomania’ – an addiction to islands – is not a condition to be taken lightly. According

to the psychologist, you’ve been exhibiting thesymptoms for some years now. You may havethought that the constant daydreaming aboutempty beaches, palm trees and a limitless supplyof coconuts was merely a response to life in thebig city. Wrong. Support groups might assist youin your struggle or perhaps you could buy a self-help guide at the local bookstore. You know thetype: put the CD on, lie down in a dark room, closeyour eyes and 12 hours later you’re cured of yourisland addiction. Or maybe a hypnotherapistwould be better: “You are getting very sleepy inyour hammock, peering up through the leaves ofthe coconut palms fringing your beach, as the suninches towards the horizon of your private ocean.”

You know your situation is serious when the onlything that ends your island daze is the sharp slapfrom your boss’s hand across the back of yourhead, or booking a ticket to a patch of lost landknown only to migrating gulls and pirates. Well, thegood news is you’re not alone. Cheyenne Morrisonalso suffers from islomania, having battled thecondition since he was ten years old. Indeed, ifislomaniacs were paid by the hour to dream aboutislands, Morrison is the Donald Trump of islomania.He’s in control of it now, but like anyone battling an addiction, he had to confront his demons. Thatmeant spending a year alone on an uninhabitedtropical paradise. And no, don’t pity him. Envy him.

After waking every morning, Morrison steppedout of a bamboo hut – not dissimilar to those thatGilligan and his fellow castaways lived in – onto hisown beach. The fine white sand would spill between

his toes while waves of pristine turquoise waterlapped the shoreline just a few metres away. Nobus stops. No junk mail. No neighbours. “My islandwas basically a 330m-tall limestone cliff with a tinybeach on one side, about an acre in size, and a tinyhut. The owner of the island left his fishing boatsthere, but they were quite a way from where myhut was. Basically, I had it all to myself – the beach,the water, the jungle, the cliffs, you name it. Therewas also an underground cave that ran 700m fromone side of the island to the other. Jacques Cousteaudived through there and discovered albino lobstersliving in it.”

Morrison says that arriving at the island for thefirst time was a surreal experience. “Before I gotthere, I had a photo of the island, and getting thereand stepping from the boat was like stepping intothat picture, except it was much more beautiful.


#42 get lost! ISSUE #10 get in the know! Only seven per cent of the Philippine islands are larger than one square mile and only one-third have names.

philippines

My hut was perfectly situated, right on the end ofthe sandspit with a 180-degree view of Malapacaoand Langen islands.” As the sole inhabitant ofPinagbuyatan, one of the El Nido chain of islands in the Philippines, life for Morrison was pretty idyllic,even without the so-called modern conveniencesthat fill our lives. “Life on an island is simple andsatisfying – if you are the right kind of person for it,” he says. “I didn’t have any electricity; I hadkerosene lamps; I had a charcoal stove; and I had to cart my own water from the well. If you’re thekind who must have the morning and eveningpaper, a cinema around the corner, your favouriteshow on the TV and all the other stuff of urbanlife, stay at home. But if you are the sort whocraves adventure and needs new experiences to keep yourself feeling alive, you will find inislands a happiness that is inexpressible andsomething that you will never forget as long as you live.”

M2658_PHILIPPINES PG 40-44.qxd 15/8/06 4:31 PM 2

get in the know! Sir Richard Branson is the owner of Necker Island, located in the British Virgin Islands. ISSUE #10 get lost! #43

Morrison’s simple and satisfying lifestyle beganwith breakfast. “My biggest worry was whether Iwould catch the right fish. That’s how my day wouldstart – with a spot of spear fishing. I would usuallyhave caught and cooked breakfast by about 9am,and then I would retire to my hammock to do somereading or writing, before cooking lunch and thenheading out for the afternoon. There were 52 islandsaround Pinagbuyutan, with hundreds of little bays,and I’d just go exploring. My time was actually reallybusy.” On one of those expeditions, Morrisondiscovered a 17th-century Spanish fort that hadbeen swallowed by a jungle. When he first arrivedon Caseledan, Morrison and some intrepid friendsasked locals if they knew where the fort was. Theywere pointed to the other side of the island, butgiven no further information. “The western side ofthe island has two large bays; each of these bays isthen divided into a further five smaller bays. Finallywe saw a small bay with a beach dominated by a

large hill; a deep anchorage extended into the bay.After a few minutes of pushing our way through the undergrowth I spotted the first stone wall,which was only two feet high; this was the edge of the outer rampart which surrounds the fortressproper. As we entered a very large gate, a stairwaywas immediately to our left; we took this up to theupper ramparts of the fortress and with difficultymade our way all the way around. As we stood onthe upper parapet and gazed down into the bay, I could almost feel what it must have been likebeing a Spanish soldier in one of the most remoteoutposts in the world.”

Morrison’s adventures didn’t end there. He mettribal people who had never seen a white manbefore. He also discovered a Spanish shipwreck in shallow water and salvaged a load of SungDynasty porcelain, which was later sold to a dealerto finance further adventures. But life wasn’talways as laidback as it sounds. As a voluntary

castaway, Morrison had to deal with Mother Naturemore or less on his own. With storms lasting fordays and a monsoon pouring water onto his littleencampment at a dangerous rate, his shelter’ssturdiness was a constant concern. “One stormtook five days to blow itself out, but after the firstfew days I had run out of food and had to make a trip in my small boat to the nearest town. Thatwould usually take about 15 minutes, but on thisoccasion it took me more than 45. My boat gotflooded three times. I barely made it to town, butwhen I got there I had to stay for three days untilthe storm passed.

“Tropical ulcers and mosquito bites are anotherfact of life. When it’s hot it’s so hot that you onlyhave to walk six feet and you could sweat to death.When it’s the monsoon it can rain solidly for up to a week. Then you go stir crazy from not being ableto go out and do anything.” The year of isolationMorrison spent on Pinagbuyatan may not have

If you’re the kind who must have the morning and eveningpaper, a cinema round the corner, your favourite show on theTV, and all the other stuff of urban life, stay at home.

’’

’’


#50 get lost! ISSUE #10 get in the know! Nacho Libre is a new feature film starring Jack Black as a monastery cook who has a secret life as a Mexican wrestler.

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get in the know! The luchadores (fighters) are divided into two camps: rudos (the bad guys) and técnicos (the good guys). ISSUE #10 get lost! #51

bolivia

David Atkinson gets ringside to sample the sports crazecurrently sweeping Bolivia.

text: david atkinson

images: christian lombardi


#52 get lost! ISSUE #10 get in the know! Masks have been worn since the mid 1930s when pioneer wrestlers such as El Enmascarado (The Masked Man) made them popular.


get in the know! Even popular fighters make only US$13 from bouts and have other daytime jobs. ISSUE #10 get lost! #53

IT IS SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT A BREEZEBLOCKgym in El Alto, the poverty-stricken slums thatloom above the downtown area of Bolivia’s

administrative capital, La Paz. As the lights flareand the ancient PA system cranks into life, JohnPeralis, today’s master of ceremonies, takes themicrophone and climbs into the ring. A skinnyman with a tight-curled perm and implausiblyshiny shoes, he announces the first of the day’s seven 20-minute bouts of luche libre(freeform wrestling).

Young couples, having paid an entrance fee of US$1, sit ringside, spitting mandarin pips onto the floor. Aged grandparents, dressed in thetraditional garb of flowing skirts and bowler hats, prepare to lob popcorn at the competitors.Anticipation sweeps across the stadium as the pre-match music reaches its crescendo and the crowd start shouting the names of their favourite wrestling stars. This is no ordinary wrestling bout. The biggest cheers are reserved for the female wrestlers.

“Luche libre was born in Mexico around 1930,” says the event’s ebullient organiser Juan Carlos Chávez. “It has developed a huge

following in Bolivia recently, especially since wefirst allowed women into the ring last year. Life is tough in El Alto and people are poor, but luchelibre lifts our spirits. It’s a battle of good versusevil - just like real life,” he adds.

Bolivia is the poorest country in South America,and has a long tradition of ritual fighting. ‘Tinku’, a harvest festival event to celebrate the end of the agricultural year, is a a colourful clash ofCatholic and pagan beliefs that draws on therituals of the indigenous communities. After two days of dancing and drinking, the third day often ends in a blood-splattered punch up.

This afternoon’s no-holds-barred grudge matchtakes the traditional Tinku and gives it a twist ofWWF-style glamour. First up is a men’s round. Luxormakes a dramatic entrance in a devil suit, whileopponent, Picodo, dressed like a member of metalband Slipknot, arrives to a backing track provided

by the German industrial band, Rammstein.The fighting style is ‘anything goes’ with

gouging, low blows and dirty tricks all activelyencouraged. As the bell rings to break the initialscrap, referee Barba Negra, a Grizzly Adams type

with a flowing mullet, tries to bring a semblanceof order. The bout becomes increasingly surrealwhen the wrestlers roll out of the ring but carryon fighting regardless.

The action comes to a climax when a visibly tiring Picodo reels from a heavy blow to thewedding tackle and the crowd responds byscreaming, “Give it to him.” Luxor obliges andPicodo hits the mat, spitting teeth. The first blood of the day is spilt and a young mother lifts her baby onto her shoulders for a better view.

Triumphant, Luxor stands astride the ropes,dripping sweat and blood. “I am the best,” hehollers. “I am the best.” As his opponent tumbles

Satanica... takes to the ring wielding a flamingtorch to the strains of Black Sabbath.

’’

’’

bolivia

It’s a battle of good versus evil – just like real life.

’’

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#88 get lost! ISSUE #10

IDON’T RIDE MOTORBIKES. I DON’T KNOW HOW.But when I’m on holidays and someonepresents me with a scooter, I always saddle

up. It could be the heat, the oversized helmets, or the sunglasses... I don’t know. But as soon as I squeeze that throttle, I enter the world of1980s television.

I am on the island of Langkawi in Malaysia. It’ssix letters and a million miles from LA, but withan engine between my legs I suddenly becomeone half of the TV cop duo from CHiPs. My friendhas already bagsed Poncherello on account ofhim having a similar skin tone to Erik Estrada, so I end up being the character played by LarryWilcox whose name no one ever remembers.

But names and engine sizes don’t matter. I’m on a bike in the sunshine, cruising the islandroads with the wind and the insects in my face. My confidence grows and it shows in my bike

handling – I’m banking around banana trees, andovertaking minibuses on the wrong side of theroad. But I always stay on the right side of the law – I’m one of the good guys, remember.

I spot a fancy hotel around Tanjung Rhu. I sidle up to my partner and ask him to pull over – thishighway patrol business is thirsty work. The hotel is so exclusive we have to bluff our way pastsecurity, and the beach is so white the sand couldbe sugar. From the restaurant’s veranda the view of the limestone outcrops is spectacular. We hangup our helmets and let the tax-free beers fly at us.

I am soon aware that if I don’t stop drinking, I’llbe breaking the law when I get back on my bike.The smiling waiter asks us if we would like moredrinks. A tough one. The real CHiPs would sendhim packing. But I’m tired of being a good guy, so we order again and again. We don’t plan ondoing a runner – it just happens. The waiter

Crime doesn’t pay? Tell that to Mark Butler as he tears it up on the island of Langkawi in Malaysiawith his hairdryer on wheels and enough gumption to make both Erik Estrada and Tom Selleck blush.

get in the know! Even though Larry Wilcox and Erik Estrada didn't get on during their time on CHiPs, they still keep in touch for ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ type conversations.

confessions

text: mark butler

image: mark butler

presents Poncherello with a bill, a pen and a look of expectation. “Would you like this charged to your room, Sir?” he asks.

Ponch looks at me. I can’t resist. “Let’s charge it to my room,” I say. And it is at this point that I remember my name. I take the pen and sign the bill, “Officer Jon Baker”, from Room 218.

The waiters move slowly in Malaysia, and thisbuys us just enough time to sneak through thegardens, around the pool, past reception and outinto the car park. My bike is still there but I now seeit for what it really is – a hairdryer on wheels thatrefuses to start. Poncherello’s bike starts the firsttime, but mine only splutters when I kick it.

The security guy is big. He has an earpiece. He walks over. My heart skips like a kindergartenteacher. I’m ready to confess.

“You need to use the choke,” he tells me. AndI’m back on the road.

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