There's a cool breeze coming through town. Rare for this time of year but it's more than welcome. It sends my hammock into a side to side sway and gives a fresh blast of mist from the garden sprinklers every so often. Just enough to cool me down from the warm, humid air. The birds are playing in the water and the only sound in the air is of their persistent calls to one another along with a bit of City and Colour and London Grammar softly playing from my speakers. The sun is setting as a backdrop for a typical remote Australian landscape. Everything seems in its place but my subconscious says otherwise. My name is Sim Davis and I'm "excitedly lost."
My life consists of change, change and more change. Every once in a while I'll meet somebody that inevitably grounds me just long enough to realise that I can't live the typical "settled" lifestyle. Figuring this out has taken me over ten years of moving from one place to another, craving life in as many ways possible.
In 2009 I met, who I thought, I was the love of my life. We got engaged and we shared a passion for change. Although we had all the right materials to build a partnership for life, it wasn't to be. After our split I was forced into a world of pain, loss and uncertainty. I had just retired from the sport that I loved and had lived for the past sixteen years. I had given up a lot of what made me who I am in the hope I could find something better. I had to find a way to reinvent myself.
At the time I was living in a remote coastal indigenous community called Maningrida. Maningrida is one of the largest aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory with a total population of close to three thousand people. During my time there I experienced what it's like to feel isolated. Cut off from my usual every day existence.
I really had to search hard to find myself and battle through the toughest year of my life. Although I had a few amazing people behind me in such trying times, I had to rely on me, myself and I. This is quite hard for me. I'm addicted to socialising. I'm the kind of guy that'll call you randomly just to see what you're up to in the hope you want to drink wine and watch Star Wars too, only to be disappointed when you tell me it's 3 o'clock in the morning and that you have to work. I crave social interaction. So you can start to imagine what it's like living in the red dirt of remote Australia where the best form of entertainment is watching Lucy and Leny (the local bull and goat) knocking over garbage bins together.
I learned my biggest life lessons in Maningrida. I learnt a completely different way of life. I learnt about pain, sadness, culture, compassion, perseverance, love, happiness and everything in between.
Being in such a place was never going to be forever so after a while I was embarking on a new journey. I'd survived but only just.
My heart belongs in Canada. Beautiful British Columbia where the mountains are endless and everyday can be a completely new adventure. No day is the same and change is easy. I can walk out my front door and decide between a thousand different ways of experiencing this once in a life time rotation of the sun. It's here where my passions collide in such a way that I'm sometimes anxious at the thought of making that daily decision, "what to do today"? Friends, bikes, snow, outdoors, pubs, picnic by the lake, hike through the forest you name it. It's here that I can do almost what ever I like.
I returned to my new found home of BC after about a year in the Australian outback. It's always hard starting again, especially after losing almost everything but I made the most of this new chapter. Anything was mine for the taking is what I would tell myself and took I did.
After another 3 years in Canada I felt I wasn't getting what I wanted out of life. I felt a slump. I realised that I had begun to settle. I wasn't travelling as much. I wasn't meeting new people or experiencing new things. I began to fall into a mini depression. After bringing my walls down for a girl who I lost faster than I could blink, my walls were constructed faster than they had come down. I shut a lot of people out and closed myself off.
During the Summer the one thing that makes me happy is riding downhill mountain bikes. It's my outlet. After the first second on my bike, nothing else matters. I'm a bit of an adrenaline junky. We can blame my father for that. Waterskiing, wakeboarding, motocross, BMX, mountain biking and anything that makes me feel like a little bit of wee might come out is what I enjoy most. So as you would expect the risk is high. Injury isn't "if" but "when". So inevitably I decided to slam straight into two different trees at high speed on, two different occasions, breaking my hand twice. This put me out of work and I couldn't do what I loved most. So what to do now? Change, big change.
I left the mountain resort of Whistler and trekked back to my home wakeboard stomping ground of the lovely Osoyoos, BC in the Okanagan Valley. It was here that my Canadian journey began. I was 23 when I first arrived here. Young and passionate about my wakeboarding career. I was a big part of building a wakeboard school called Wakepilot (best school in Canada) the main reason I left this school a few years before hand is that I didn't feel challenged anymore. As much as running a wakeboard school and being out on the water sounds like an appealing lifestyle, I found that it produced a massive strain on my life. My physical and mental health became a detriment to my wellbeing but here I was again. With a broken hand, coaching on the water again became my fallback. I got to work and keep an income while I was continuing my hard work from previous years in building such a prestigious school for up and coming wakeboarders. The real question would be "Will this be the same as last time? Can I be happy once again, here doing what only two years before hand help me to quit the sport I loved?" Long story short, no, it would be no different.
Elbert Einstein once explained that doing something over and over again and expecting a different result was his definition of insanity. Was I insane for trying again? In my defence it had been two years since I left Osoyoos and things had changed a little but did I really expect them to be that different? No, but I took a risk which has cemented the idea that being there and living that profession isn't for me anymore. So where to from there? I decided that with my hand back on the mend and the bulk of the wakeboard season coming to a close that it was time to move back to Whistler.
Whistler wasn't the same this time around. A lot of my friends had left, I wasn't financially stable and my Canadian visa was coming to an end. The stress of the unknown was taking a toll. Broken promises and broken dreams had left only a thread of hope that in a few months time I would still be in the country, a country that I had just begun to call home.
It wasn't to be. In October of 2014 I had a defining accident in the Whistler bike park. A grade 3 AC separation of the shoulder was the verdict. With little money and even less time to organise a solution I was forced to pack my bags. This is the first time in my life that I have really had no knowledge of what was to come. Would I go back to Australia forever? Would I mend, gather a bit of coin and return? Would I go to another country instead? Nothing was certain and once again I was on a downward spiral where my subconscious would torment me from day to day.
I'm an impatient person. I think 99% of people on this planet are but I'm a new kind of impatient where sometimes I live and dream in the future. It's a huge flaw that I try to combat everyday. Once I had returned to Australia, I made my home back with my parents. Yep I was 29 and living with Mum and Dad once again. Don't get me wrong, I love my family more than anything but this didn't sit right with me. I couldn't see anything in my future just yet so this is where I was and there was nothing I could do about it just yet. I had to be patient. I had to live day by day, moving forward as fast as the universe would allow. I'm not religious but sometimes the stars seem to just align. I'm a smart guy. I know how to get what I want. I know how to find ways past obstacles better than most I know. It's a great resource. I put this to use in a way that would change my life forever.
With no money at my disposal I found a way to get some free, government funded education. I've always been pretty handy with heavy machinery. Skid steers, bulldozers, excavators. That kind of thing. I decided to go and finally get my tickets as proof instead of just saying I could operate them. After three months I had my Certificates in Civil Construction and Driving Operations. These were a solid base to get any construction job in the country. The big question was, "Where?"
I looked at remote work again. Hesitant to go back to the land of isolation I decided I'd only apply for the best jobs or nothing at all. In the end I only sent off an application for one job. One job in the whole of Australia was good enough for me. I can be a picky dude! After a couple of weeks waiting for the verdict I was called to be congratulated of getting the position. I was now the Municipal Services Supervisor and acting Council Services Manager of Umbakumba. Umbakumba is a small community on Groote Eylandt in the Gulf of Carpentaria. No cell service and very little internet. I once thought I couldn't be more isolated than Maningrida. I was about to learn otherwise.
I've been here for over a year now. It's been an incredibly trying time. In that year I've been pushed to the wall with pressure from none other than myself. I've seen and done things that I wish I hadn't. Things that have stayed with me. It can be a hard life up here when your all by yourself.
Growing up, I always has border collies. Jess was my first. She was in the family before I was even born. Long black and white fur. Very switched on. Very intelligent. Then there was Pepper. We named her after the colour of her fur. Mainly gray with a slight brown tinge. Very easy to train. You could have a chat to her and it seemed like she listened to every word, every emotion. Bella came next. Mostly white with a partial blue eye. She was the most hyperactive dog I've ever seen. I trained her to do many things including acting like she'd been shot in the most dramatic way that you'd think it was real. There was never a pause button. Unfortunately we lost Bella about 9 months ago to cancer. She was just 5 years old. I wasn't at her side when it happened as I was here on the island. By now you'll have guessed that dogs have always been a part of my life. The 3 I've had have been family.
Here in Umbakumba and most indigenous communities, dogs are a part of the families that reside here. The difference is the way that the are treated. Maningrida was especially heart wrenching. Most dogs have irrepairable joint and bone injuries along with heavy scars from machetes and spears. They are malnourished and suffered mange in the worst ways possible. It was hard to see. Here on the island it's not so bad but there are the occasional families that torture their dogs either intentionally or neglect.
I was given the task of helping the vet, Sasha, in her search to find and "destroy" certain neglected, stray or vicious dogs. We spent a whole day using tranquilliser darts to put them to sleep and load them into cages. We transported twelve in total out to an area near the garbage dump. If you are an animal lover and don't want to hear the details I'd recommend skipping to the next paragraph from here..... As Sasha unloaded the dazed and confused pups I began to dig a grave with the backhoe. This was the first, but not the last grave that I would dig in my time here. I dug for about an hour. Enough room for each of them to have their own space once they were resting inside. Once I had finished I shut the machine down and walked over to where Sasha was. All the pups lined up for their injection, all crying as if they knew it was the end. One by one we held them and tried our hardest to console them as they passed. We would talk to them and stroke their poor little heads until there was nothing. Sasha tried to hold her tears back but I could tell how she was feeling as my tears also rolled, only behind sunglasses in an attempt to hide my emotion. To this day, seeing them pass like that is one of the worst experiences I've even been through. What makes it worse is the fact that four of them were just unwanted by their owners. There are so many unwanted dogs on the island it's impossible to send them off to homes. Once we were done we collected the bodies and placed them into the grave. We both said a brief goodbye before a fired up the machinery and filled in the hole. After that we were silent.
I've also had to bury people out here. It can be seen as an honour for a Balanda (which means white person in many indigenous languages). Here they have kept a lot of their traditions and culture over the past few thousand years. Generally speaking, the person to dig the grave of the deceased should be of aboriginal decent or a family member. On a few occasions I haven't had my main operator, Anson, to dig the grave. Anson is my unofficial second in charge. He's smart, switched on and understands the meaning of hard work and being a strong leader. Unfortunately the reason he was unable to operate the machinery was because the deceased was his own teenage daughter. In cases like this I am sometimes accepted to be involved with the burial. Something I don't look upon fondly but something I am honoured to do for the families.
Death seems to possess this island at times. I've been here for 15 months now and already some 40 plus people have passed away. That number is staggering considering the small population.
I am lucky to reside in quite a relaxed community. Not a lot of trouble here. There is another community on the island that is not as fortunate to have such peace and serenity. Angurugu which is located 30 minutes to the west of Umbakumba has lost its way. Violence and unrest is a common sight. Feuding families will bicker frequently. These feuds will often turn physical. Mostly a few punches thrown and the occasional blind throw of a machete. In November last year the bickering escalated. Two were left dead in the end. A 19 year old hit in the chest with a spear. His killer had Karma descend on him almost instantly. Speculation and rumours suggest that retribution from the young man's family was cast and carried out swiftly. These are not common occurrences but the violence is beyond what we "outsiders" consider humane.
The latest occurrence is the suspected murder of a 12 year old girl by hanging. It's a hard place to even consider sitting back and accepting this as normal. In the eyes of the law it is wrong but in the eyes of a minority here the violence is acceptable. The people here have a long way to go and they have to do it by themselves. I'll write more about the people of the island and my experiences in depth at a later date.
Over the last 6 months the isolation has begun to show its fangs. In a few short months I'll be saying goodbye to the people of Groote Eylandt but until then it's a fight against my subconscious self, to refuse it to control what my conscious self already knows. Up here isn't just a battle for a lifestyle but a battle of the mind. Almost everybody here has a partner. Somebody to come home to. Someone to help them through the experiences, both good and bad. Someone to share those experiences with. I made the mistake of thinking I could rekindle something with an old flame. So I brought her here. She came all the way from England and as much as I had good intentions, it wasn't to be. I failed. Wrong time and certainly wrong place to reignite an old flame. So as heartbroken as I am I have to move on and move forward. I'm already making new friends back in Canada and I'm not even there yet. I have a lot to look forward to. So here I sit, in my hammock, battling my own thoughts but optimistic about the future. Excitedly lost.
