#heywire winner

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Anyone up for a 3,000 km run?

Yeah, me neither. But Nakita Sobczyk is bang up for it.

She'll be running from Byron Bay to Cape York, covering 3,000 km's in about 100 days. Champion!

Why is she doing this to herself?  To raise funds for SANE Australia because she is passionate about raising awareness about mental health.

Read the full story at ABC North Coast NSW and check out Nakita's winning Heywire story to learn more about what stoked her passion.

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This is What I Remember

It's surprising how far and fast you can run when there is so much at stake. Not for a blue ribbon or a gold medal, but rather, for a life. That is what I remember. Sprinting so fast, feeling my life is about to come crashing down, as a rope lies in my Dad's arms, as he walks with purpose towards a tree. "Please, oh God, please don't," I cry, but he looks at me, and with an almost sadistic tone, says, "Why not? What have I got to live for?"

He speaks with such ferocity that it sends me down to the ground in despair.

This is what I remember. The feeling of total devastation that your unconditional love is not enough, will never be enough, compared to the child that no longer lives. No matter how much you try to give them something to be proud of and to live for, it will never be enough. The fear etches itself all the way down my spine as I think, "What if? What if I can't stop him?" I suddenly fall step in step with him and steal away the rope, hoping to dear God that he will stop. Just stop.

"You bitch, you bloody bitch."

With a turn of mind, he pivots and walks away towards another source of danger, choosing the largest stone he sees. With a dead man's adrenaline, he heaves it high above his head. This is what I remember. Mum screams, "Stop it now, stop, just stop" as she races towards the man who holds no care for his current world. She pushes the stone away from the shattered hero and it comes crashing down like the pieces of his soul.

The sheer agony from fighting with someone else's depression takes its toll, pushing pain like a wedge deeper and deeper into my heart.

The fight, the battle and the struggle with my father's depression. This is what I remember. Take a look at Emma-Lee's Heywire entry and view the other winning entries for 2012. If anyone reading this wants to talk to someone about depression, remember that Headspace, Lifeline (13 11 14), Kids Helpline (1800 55 1800) , Reachout and BeyondBlue are all good places to start.

[abcheywire-blog]

Lost in the Cape

A diet of rotten meat cooked on a shovel was all that kept Luke Audas alive when he found himself stranded in flooded Gulf country last March.

It was my 19th birthday, and with my mate Solomon, I was travelling west of Cairns to a remote community in the Cape for work. Day one: we crossed Gregory River... the water came up over the bonnet of the 4WD and a few inches up the wind screen. But we made it... Phew! Next challenge Elizabeth Creek... straight away we knew it wasn't crossable, so we set up a camp for the night.

We were confident we'd cross the next day.

Day two: the creek was at the same level... bugger. Stuck...with limited fuel and a raging river...we decided to walk to Doomadgee and loaded up with water, a utility tool, a lighter and 10 muesli bars.

By late afternoon we knew we wouldn't make it.

Bowethorne was 30km closer, so we turned left. That night it bucketed down. We caught some sleep laying on red dirt with water flowing under us. Day three: We had no food, incredibly sore feet and one bottle of water. We decided to walk back to the car... after 14 hours we finally made it!

The ice had melted and the meat was starting to turn in the esky. We feasted and slept well that night!

We didn't know but on day four a fellow worker realised that we hadn't shown up in Doomadgee. Two choppers, six planes and a heap of ground vehicles were sent out in the afternoon... only to return unsuccessful that day. The only thing that we saw was a jumbo jet. Night came and our spirits were low. Day five was the hardest morning, with both of us desperate to get out of there.

The creek dropped low enough to expose an old truck tyre; we set it on fire. With the black smoke filling the sky, a plane circled around the camp.

A helicopter landed nearby, and just like that we were heading to Doomadgee to recover in hospital. We started wondering how we were going to get our car back, when a co-workers walked in and said there were three local Aboriginal boys out the front. They had packed up our whole camp, got the car across the river and drove it the rest of the way to Doomadgee.  These fellas did this without anyone asking.

We tried to offer money but they said, "We thought you boys were in need, and we are happy to help out anyway we can."

I'll never forget my 19th birthday! Take a look at Luke's original Heywire entry here.

[abcheywire-blog]

Fishing is My Life

Some kids want to be a fireman, a doctor or a vet. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be just like mum and dad, and go fishing out in the big, blue, open sea.

I've lived on a twenty metre Spanish mackerel fishing boat in the Gulf of Carpentaria since I was five days old.

The family photo albums show that fishing is something I've always loved. At every opportunity, I've had a hook and sinker on the bottom of the ocean, keeping the good fish for dinner while kissing the little ones and gently placing them back. When I was eleven, I finished my distance education schoolwork early for the year and the family business was down a crew member, so I was asked to supervise the back deck and watch the fishing lines.

This was what I dreamed of.

I did well, pulling in fish that were up to120 centimetres long. Any bigger and I would have been pulled over the side. In 2007, it was time to go to boarding school. Now, boarding school isn't as bad as most kids will make out. You make really close friends who you live with 24/7. Still, I felt left out of what was happening on the boat. But everyone at home would keep me updated on the day's catch, sights such as a whale with its calf and what they were up to, such as anchoring behind an island and snorkelling. So you can see why I was so keen to get back for the holidays. I began to consider leaving school at the end of year ten to be a fisherman. Most of my teachers didn't like that. They said I was bright and could achieve anything.

It took a while to explain that I was, in fact, going to be a fisherman. I guess not many kids do that.

So after year ten, I said my goodbyes to all my friends (teachers included) and received wonderful goodbye cards and gifts. So here I am, still fishing and breathing the salt air that I was practically born into. My brother and I are now fourth generation fishermen, fishing alongside our parents.  Every day is a new adventure.

I do things every day that people pay to do once in a lifetime.

But trust me, I don't take it for granted. Fishing is my life. Watch Elspeth's Heywire video story.

[abcheywire-blog]

The heart of gay marriage in Tasmania

Lochsley Wilson is a Launceston College student and gay rights activist. He writes to show a teenage perspective on the same-sex marriage debate. 

Here's his winning story that scored him a place at the Heywire Regional Youth Summit in February 2013.

I've been married twice.

The first was in preschool, when I was three years old. She was a ballerina. I was a stay-at-home dad. After only two years passed, I had become an architect and my new wife, a doctor. Marriage is something we grow up watching on TV, reading in novels, role-playing with our friends and hoping that, in the future, we'll be able to marry the person we love. It was only after I trudged through the trials of puberty that I realised, like all homosexual Australians, I could not see this dream fulfilled. Between the spelling tests and slumber parties, my introspective adolescent brain sought answers.

Why would my love be less valid than my heterosexual peers?

Am I not supposed to want monogamy? And how can people be fighting "for the children" when their words hurt more than the bullies at school? In reality, denying people their legal rights on the basis of their biological characteristics classifies as discrimination. Take the example of the women who sought the right to vote. Or, perhaps, a black man who was denied from not only voting but sharing a beer in the same country pub as the white folk. In contrast, discriminatory discourse, even when placed next to offers of love and a place at someone's dinner table, is destructive. It's destructive to the loving same-sex couples who long for a legally recognised wedding.

Though, more to the point, it's destructive to the gay kids in our schools, already the target of hate, who see that even once they leave the schoolyard, they're still treated as second class citizens.

Without legal parity, how can we hope for social equality? "Oh, deep in my heart I do believe," sings Joan Baez in her civil rights anthem, "We shall overcome, some day . . . We'll walk hand in hand, some day." And I hope that when that day comes, a ring will be on my finger. Take a look at Locksley's Heywire entry and read his blog post at ABC Open. If anyone reading this wants to talk to someone about depression, remember that Headspace (headspace.org.au), Lifeline (13 11 14), Kids Help Line (1800 55 1800) , Reachout (au.reachout.com) and BeyondBlue (beyondblue.org.au) are all good places to start.