As for my old friend Mad Mick 15 year in the jungle living rough he average profited 1.6 grams of gold per day. 415 k gold which he got a good deal with Chinese still living in Rabaul. Old and tired my friend. He had a hard unforgiving life. Many years ago He fell in love with women that took him for everything and lost the plot leading him to hit the drink real bad for awhile. He Went feral into the jungles. At one stage we thought he was dead. Until an Indonesian official from west Papua offered to bankroll Crow to take a truce to Mad Mick about 10 year ago to get him out of their territory.
Crow the old bum did a hell of lot to keep mick alive. Even went looking for him. Crow jokes it was a apocalypse now type trip deep into rain forest to find mad Mick living with group of tribal warriors fighting the Indonesia army. Crow had operated on Mad Mick and saved him from losing a leg in jungle many years ago before. The Indonesians knew that mick would come out from hiding to see crow as they was old friends as thick as thieves. Crow told me he had many WTF moments on that journey. In fact it was first and only time he went out into the jungles by himself...You see there was sense of loyalties forged in blood sweat and tears.
Crow played his cards well and BS to Indonesians who said he could not find him even when he knew an Indonesian commando group was following him through jungle for 2 months. In truth contacted Mick via natives of the situation and Crow a free trip around Iran Jaya. In the end Mick escaped an Indonesian trap via using Crow as bait. Mick suffering from malaria shifted further into jungle to where even the Indonesians feared to tread. With no support from the west for arms he was screwed into an uncomfortable stalemate. As today he has once quietly emerged from the wilderness content with gold he has and more peaceful retirement of a rather restless soul.
One thing old mad mick was true to his word if you do the right thing by him he would walk over broken glass to help you.
It is a unbroken code of honor people such as these have.
And yet here he was like a lost soul loitering around Rabaul. He has no identity papers. His Australia passport long since run out. He cannot even go back to his own country as officially he is listed as dead. Even if he manged to convince him he was still alive? They do not want him as he is an embarrassment to Foreign policy and The Indonesian would force them to prosecute him. Yet that is the last thing they would want as the truth what was really going on would have to come out. So a village in new Britain has become his new abode. No longer the jungle threat to those in power in boardrooms of the jungle of glass and steel.
While I was first in port with repairs to the old "Love Tub" He offered strait away without hesitation was use of vehicles and equipment.
It may seem like a dog eat dog world my friends but there are still loyal old dogs still out there that have long ties fostered in blood stronger than notions of self interest.
These people rather rough downtrodden pieces of humanity have more soul and honor, more than many if not all our fearless leaders in power my friends. And perhaps that is good thing that some of these old dogs are still out there living on the fringe margins of society.
Jeff there are treasures out around Solomon, new Guinea and New Britain, small caches of treasure from pieces of history. But the biggest treasure out there is Freedom that we have long since lost in the west my friend,.
Ipuk, Doc, Don Jose and others
There comes a time for this old dog to realize its time to let his son take the role of captain of the old love tub. That last few months you may of been wondering my ongoing issue of leadership style of my son? As all young men do at one stage begin to feel their fathers know nothing. Well apparently I have learned hell of a lot in the last few months. Now my son realizes the old boy knows a lot more than he ever shows. Yet my friends he is ghostly reflection of myself was when I was his age. yet I beginning see him become more attached to the "Love tub" AKA Drumbeat. Her habits and her soul. And the perennial struggle with wind sea and waves. My wife has long since resided her self that I have a mistress, as she has sailed on her many time to far away places and even to her our ship is some thing more than a ship.
It is our home our little country our own little Empire in a spirit of freedom as we wander the earth as roving sea Gypsies.
I will be charting a course to Don Jose old stomping ground and hopefully we will beat the tropical storm in the Channel between New Ireland and New Britain.
Once again I saying goodbye to my old home town, A good by to my parents graves now long buried under the slops of the volcano. If you wants to see a smoking monster looks like this is it.
Adios amigos....
Kanacki