Woohoo! The first of what will be many more to come, I got interviewed on the Radio Show, Cash Flow with James Martinez, or AchieveRadio.com, and it’s now podcast. I talk about the fall of Argentina, economic destruction of the USA, and bicycle expeditions in far flung, remote places in this show. The link to Cash Flow with James Martinez, July 25th, guest speaker David Nghiem is here.

It’s finally out. One crazy expedition across Latin America, and eight years of work later, the book is now out on the book shelves. You can get your own copy at Booklocker.com

So what next? Hitting the Radio and TV interview circuit. Well, mostly the radio interview circuit. I’ll let you know when I come to a radio show near you!

Wow. I can’t describe what it feels like to physically hold my book. I just received the galley today. A book galley is printed version of a book that’s sent to the author for final approval. Here it is. Ain’t it gorgeous?

That’s it! I’ll let you know when you can order it online, which will probably be in a week or two.

WOOHOO!!!

And here’s a look inside.

Well, that’s it. After so many years of writing, editing, the works, the book is now complete. The publisher is lined up, and a final inspect is on the way. In the mean time, I’d like to introduce you to the preface of the book. Please note, you can download the abbreviated version of the book for free from mininova.org on bittorrent, just look up jackfruit. Stay tuned, I’ll let you folks know when the actual paper printed book comes out of the presses.

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Preface

I lay sweating on my back in the tent, naked, my diving knife clutched in my right hand, and a can of pepper spray in the other. The strong wind rattled my tent, shaking the flaps, poles and ropes so violently the nylon fabric popped, sounding like sporadic gunfire. I stared at the dark, domed ceiling and shook with terror as a high beam from a vehicle slowly lit, and then left my tent. Could it be a bandito, a murderous ex-contra prowling the hills and valleys that lay in the shadow of a live volcano in the distance? Or was it a land squatter searching for a quiet place for a home and hearth? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. In the depth of my fear, I was ready to stab anyone who entered my tent.

I closed my eyes in the dark, only to confront an even deeper darkness. Why was I doing this? What sort of thing drove me to commit this mad, lonely act, to ride a bicycle across Latin America? It seemed so simple at first. It was supposed to be a leisurely three-month joyride across South America from Lima, Peru to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Instead, I was on the side of a road in an desolate stretch of north western Costa Rica, hiding from vagrants and highwaymen, perched on a cliff in front of a volcano, worn from my inability to sleep, and scared out of my mind.

I put the cold, steel blade on my bare chest, and wiped away a tear. I was thousands of miles from home, in an alien, hostile place, alone, exhausted, and overwhelmed from seven months of intense trials through three third-world countries.

A confluence of unforeseen events had forced me to extend the length of my trip several times. And then there were the three mysteries that entrapped me: my strange intuitive desire to come to Latin America, a visit to a forbidden, sacred, symbol-laden site that almost killed me, and a new personal interest – borne from September 11th – in the geopolitical interaction between the USA and Latin America. These three subjects became my inexorable obsessions, and as with any irrational desire, my path was dangerously full of pitfalls and obstacles.

I held the cool, slim tube of the pepper spray, and checked the nozzle. I looked at the door of my tent as it shook. I glanced back at my watch, as the hour hands glowed a dim green. It was three in the morning, and I hadn’t slept at all. I had just two more hours to endure before I could greet the sun, and the security and relief that it represented. I covered my eyes with my knife arm, and touched the cold metal tubes of my bicycle frame. I reminded myself that survival wasn’t just enduring the elements, it was also about enduring my own emotional obstacles.

And it would be two more months before I would find the link in El Salvador that would help me resolve the mystery of the symbols.

I finally caved into it. I finally did it. In a mad, mad world, I put my work of nonfiction up, the thrilling recount of my 2001-2002 expedition through South and Central America up, for free for you readers to download and enjoy. So, why am I doing this? Why, after 7 years of hard work, sweat, tears, surviving the expedition in the first place, then attempting to put it into written word that would entertain, enthrall, and enlighten, would I EVER decide to give this away for FREE?!! Have I lost it?

Well, I didn’t exactly get to this decision lightly. You see, for the past six months, I’ve been busy trying to get this published. I sent out proposals, with a lot of marketing statistics and data, you know, the kind of stuff that would make an agent start to salivate. I mean, come on, I’ve had almost 39,000 blog page views… not withstanding that one of my most popular articles, about the Bora Bora tribe accounts for the large percentage of views. Interestingly, the search words for that article that I’ve seen consistently involves the words naked and amazon tribe, or naked amazon tribal women breasts. Yes, interestingly, there are many individuals with odd fetishes for brown primal women in a rain forest. Hey, what ever floats their boat, right? Well, jungle minded perverts aside, my proposal included analyses into the asian american, hispanic american, and spiritual minded american english speaking audience, which is a rather large audience. It included facts and figures on my latin american television appearances, appearing across latin america as well. You’d think that the idea of selling a spanish language version of my book to a half billion latinos would make the agents think some more about my book.

Alas, all my effort, to this date, is of no avail. I’ve received countless rejection slips, and several nibbles that ended in, “we’ve seriously thought about your book. No, really, we did! Or at least, I did. Unfortunately, the market is sooo competitive that we can only accept a limited number of projects. Have a nice day.” signs the agent.

I remember a quote by a famous publisher, O’Reilly, that the greatest threat to an author, isn’t piracy. It’s obscurity. With that said, I’m pirating myself. I’m pirating my work. I’m giving it away for free, mainly so that it at least finds its proper audience, but also to prove to those foolish agents, that people want to read this book, especially in light of these times, filled with financial crises, global climate change, and general end of the world talk. The work is protected under a Creative Commons License.

I mean, with dark times like these, who wouldn’t want to read a book that has a light at the end of the tunnel? So here it is. Come and get it. Read it, and enjoy. And let me know what you think about it. Prepare to be enlightened.

Addendum – August 3rd, 2009 – After several months of having the book available for free online, I became aware that because most people have trouble reading even a hundred pages of an ebook, that my 420 page book was intimidating. So, in the interests of the reader, I shortened the book for easier reading, and it’s coming out in print from Booklocker.com. So you can download the the book from Mininova.org.

I became the first foreigner to ever see the “Lost” Quartz Llamas of Choq’e Kiraw. EAT THAT Indiana Jones!

Oh yeah, and we almost get killed in this last episode of The Expedition to the Cradle of Gold, Choq’e Kiraw. Sundrenched Pt. 15.

Here’s part 2

Here it is, the first of a three part series, about the ill fated expedition to the Cradle of Gold, Choq’e Kiraw.

An Ancient Entity I met long ago, when I and my expedition partner, Marco, almost lost our lives on top of a 5500 meter mountain, shows up in the remote wilderness to greet me.

I recognized Her right away.

She was the ancient Incan Earth Goddess, known as the PachaMama.

I took off on the rough, back country track of the Iscachoka Ayacucho pass, a difficult, high mountain road that winds through canyons, dangerous cliffs and bluffs, and spectacular climate zones.

As I made my way through the country, I was set up to meet someone very special, whom I hadn’t seen in almost five years.