Free Sample - Chapter 1 from Volume 1
This from Wayne Murphy:
There is a new moon today. And it is St Patrick’s Day. Celebrating Irish heritage and being generous is on my mind with Ian Cairns right now. So here is a free gift from Ian and me to all our Facebook friends, the first chapter of Kanga. Ian has Irish ancestry too, mixed with his strong Viking and canny Scottish genes. The sailing ship image is a painting of the Lady Kennaway. It is the vessel Ian’s great grandparents George and Margaret Cairns arrived to Australia aboard in 1850. George Cairns left his home in Ireland because of the potato famine. He and his wife landed in Geelong and settled in Victoria. You can read a little more about Ian’s early years in Melbourne (below) and why the Cairns family moved to Sydney. That’s where Ian first learned to surf, at Avalon, before relocating to far away Western Australia in 1966. Ian’s great grandparents had set the tone for adventure. It's a big part of what this book is about - a sports biography, some surf history and an adventure wrapped into two volumes. You can order the book from our link at the end of chapter. Ian and I will be posting some surf history-related stuff during the next few weeks to promote the book before our official launch at the Margaret River Masters in April. In the meantime, here is the first chapter. We hope you enjoy it. And a happy Saint Patrick’s Day to you all. Slainte.
Chapter 1 – Hunger
The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread - Mother Theresa, missionary.
How did it come to be? The chief executive of professional surfing, targeted by gangsters in Hawaii, bravely testifying in court against them, having to hurriedly depart the fateful island he loved dearly, the place he’d shone so brilliantly, thinking he’d never go back there again? It began where all things start for each and every human experience, at the age-old natural beginning, squeezed and pulled from dark to light to inhale that first important breath, the precious intake of air, a magical element that would save him many times from disastrous wipe-outs and deep water hold-downs in his coming years.
Walter Ian Cairns roared at the shock of having his infant bare arse slapped upon entry into the dense physical world. He drew into his tiny lungs the invisible element that starts and sustains all human life beyond the womb. His weary mother placed him gently upon her chest and lovingly smelled his newness. Mary Cairns prayed silently. She thanked her God and wondered what sort of life this fourth child of hers would lead. After he was cleaned and wrapped securely in swaddling cloth, she guided her newborn’s mouth towards what he hungered for. Mary and her husband Wally had survived the Great Depression as kids. They served their country as young adults in World War II and were married after. They promised each other their children would never go hungry, unlike how they and their forbears sometimes had.
Hunger is ancient. It is a powerful, motivating force that can drive people to do things they normally wouldn’t. Ian Cairns had an insecure childhood from living in various homes in three different cities. He hungered for security, to be settled somewhere, to make friends and be accepted by his peers. As he grew older and learned to surf, he yearned to be respected among the world’s best wave riders. He hungered to be noticed and successful. His driving ambition as a young man, to surf the biggest waves possible, to prove himself most worthy, helped satisfy that strong, inner hunger.
Ian’s appetite for food was well known too. He’d stuff it down to anesthetize himself, to put away bad feelings and insecurities. In the early 1970s, when surfing contests still had funky prizes like the “Best Wipe-Out Award”, Ian and some of his fellow competitors would compete in raucous food-eating contests. Ian’s meat-eating exhibitions at Jack McCoy’s Summerhouse Vegetarian Restaurant near Bells Beach astounded onlookers, especially the regular customers. These were the early hedonistic years of professional surfing, when future world champions like Peter Townend lined the restaurant tables with flaming shots of purple flyers, when fun-loving surf writers like Phil Jarrattt were discovered fast asleep among piles of empty wine bottles and beer cans the following day. At these outlandish gatherings, Ian Cairns and others from the surf tribe all hungered for attention, fellowship and good times.
It was hunger in its rawest form that drove Ian’s great grandfather to Australia in the middle of the 19th century. George Cairns was born in Ireland, 1826, at Newtown-Adds in County Down. As a young man he saw all around him how tough life was. The potato famine ravaged the Irish population in the late 1840s. More than a million people died of hunger. Millions more were forced to emigrate. George Cairns and his wife Margaret migrated to Australia on an assisted passage. It was an arduous three month sea journey paid by the British government for people looking to start a new life in the expanding colony Down Under. A blacksmith by trade, George Cairns settled in Victoria where his children became farmers around Skipton.
One of his many grandchildren, David Baird Cairns, wasn’t keen on working the land. As soon as David turned eighteen, he joined the Australian Imperial Forces fighting in World War I. He was shipped to Europe, ostensibly to shoot and kill Germans dug into the trenches on the Western Front. David Cairns was one of the luckier volunteer soldiers. He lost an eye in battle but survived the slaughter at The Somme. He returned home and married Stella Muriel Paull, a farmer’s daughter from Yackandandah in northeast Victoria. They moved to Melbourne where David got a job working on the wharves. After paying rent and buying food, he spent the rest of his weekly earnings drinking at his local pub, and gambling on horses and greyhounds. His children followed suit and became good drinkers and blue collar workers too. All of them, except for clever Wally, a determined lad who surprised his family when he won an academic scholarship to prestigious Wesley College.
Walter Baird Cairns, born 1921 in Melbourne, knew education was the only way to break the cycle of poverty and get ahead in life. Wally was a fine scholar and footballer. He was a champion rower and athlete too. He got accepted to the University of Melbourne to study for a degree in engineering. But his academic life was interrupted when World War II was declared. Wally didn’t join the Aussie soldiers fighting in Africa and Europe. Japanese forces were winning battles with ease throughout Asia while pushing ever closer to Australia. Wally served in the sweltering heat and hostilities of New Guinea. He was a sapper, building landing areas and helping maintain the ships that supplied the Kokoda Trail. Wally was a good soldier and rose to the rank of Lieutenant. At Charters Towers in Queensland, he met Australian army nurse Mary Petersen.
Dedicated to her profession, Mary Petersen grew up on a farm along the banks of the Clarence River in northern New South Wales. She was stationed at Charters Towers nursing injured troops from New Guinea. Mary always asked the soldiers for news from the front lines. When Mary met Wally Cairns, she typically inquired if the Japs were going to invade Australia. Wally assured her that the mangrove swamps, snakes, mozzies and crocodiles up north would put a stop to any Jap invasion. Besides, he said, brave Diggers and well-equipped Yanks would never let them land. He informed her how the Americans had a fleet of aircraft carriers in the Coral Sea. He said this naval force and General McArthur would soon have the enemy retreating all the way back to Japan.
Mary felt good being around Walter Cairns. He knew how to humor her and make her feel secure. He was a man of integrity, with the same honest values and Presbyterian faith as she had. And his surname was a good Scottish one, like her maternal grandfather’s name, McKenzie. Wally felt the same about Mary. He liked her practical ways and strong work ethic. They kept corresponding throughout the war. When the fighting ceased, Wally went back to University and completed his engineering degree. He met Mary again. They hooked up in Sydney and got married. The newlyweds were soon on their way to Adelaide for work, hitched to Wally’s star, chasing his practical dream. They were going to build a fine home where they could raise a family and live in peace, all of them prosperous and happy.
David Cairns - I was born 1948, in Adelaide. Our sister Sue was born there eighteen months later. We had an older sister Denise, but she died of leukemia. It was terrible for Dad. She used to meet him at the door every night. Dad wore a hat and Denise would take it off him when she greeted him after work. Dad never walked through that door again. In fact, he never talked about Denise again at all, ever. We left Adelaide and moved to Melbourne soon after that. Ian was born in Victoria in 1952, near where Dad’s parents lived. Not long after, we moved out to Dandenong where Dad started his own manufacturing company.
Ian Cairns was a rambunctious youngster. At two years of age he showed early signs of resilience when he emerged from the bushes by the back of their house. “Bitey, bad bitey,” he informed his Mum while pointing to the tell-tale puncture marks on his little arm. Ian proceeded to identify a small snake that bit him. Mary Cairns quickly killed the serpent with her garden spade. Later in the hospital, Wally Cairns looked with incredulous eyes at his youngest son sitting up in bed. The blonde-haired kid was full of vigor, bright-faced and laughing. He seemed perfectly fine. The Cairns household was mighty relieved knowing adventurous little Ian had dodged a bullet. They all marveled at how calm the boy was in the face of danger. The last thing Wally and Mary wanted was another of their children to die at a young age. Wally smiled at his son. Then he looked to the heavens and thanked the Almighty. He knew his youngest kid could communicate well, and that he was a tough little bugger too. But Wally had other things to worry about. His engineering business wasn’t going well.
DAVID CAIRNS – Dad was really into athletics from his younger days when he used to compete at Wesley College and University. When the Olympic Games were in Melbourne he took us to some events. We saw Emil Zatopek win the 10,000 meters run. We left Victoria not long after. There was a credit squeeze in the late 1950s. Dad went broke. We moved to Sydney to start afresh.
When the Cairns family arrived in Sydney they settled on the northern beaches. Surfers there were now riding new-look foam and fiberglass surfboards, thanks to the Olympic Games in Melbourne. Before 1956 most Aussies rode sixteen-foot-long hollow paddleboards without fins. These were dubbed “toothpicks” because of their pointy appearance. Surfboard technology hadn’t changed for decades, until World War II, with advances in technology including new plastics. In 1949, Californian surfer Bob Simmons constructed a surfboard with a Styrofoam core that was encased in a thin layer of plywood. It had balsa rails and was coated in fiberglass. By the late 1950s, surfboards shaped from polyurethane foam coated with resin and fiberglass skins were fast replacing balsa boards.
The 1956 Olympic Games in Melbourne saw an international lifesaving carnival held at Torquay Beach. It was staged as a demonstration sport alongside the Games. Lifeguards from USA, Great Britain, South Africa, New Zealand, and even Ceylon, were invited to compete against State teams from Australia. There were some keen surfers in the visiting Hawaiian and Californian contingents including Greg Noll, Tom Zhan, Bobby Moore and Mike Bright. They brought with them their lighter balsa and fiberglass surfboards, hoping to sample some Aussie waves. A year later Greg Noll would become one of the first surfers to ride Waimea Bay on the North Shore of Oahu. The legendary big wave pioneer fondly recalls his journey Down Under, “We had come to race paddle boards. As it turned out, our surfboards became the real attraction.”
At Bondi Beach that summer, Aussie surfer Scott Dillon rode waves on one of the new balsa and fiberglass semi-gun designs. He was applauded by a large crowd. The board belonged to California’s Philip “Flippy” Hoffman. He was one of the first surfers to camp at Sunset Beach on Oahu and surf there regularly with Bob Simmons. Hoffman was in a Sydney hospital recovering from a bout of jaundice before heading down to Torquay for the surf carnival. Other Bondi Beach surfers, including Bluey Mayes, also rode Hoffman’s board while the American was away. The lighter board was a revelation in the surf with its responsiveness to turns. Sydney surfers loved the new design so much they made sure the board was hidden from Hoffman when he returned. The Americans and Hawaiians competed in more lifesaving events that summer at Sydney’s other beaches, including Maroubra, Avalon, Cronulla, Dee Why, and Colloroy. The demonstrations were filmed and screened at cinemas and surf clubs all around Australia. The infectious surf bug was quickly spread further afield. Many of the American surfboards were sold to eager Aussies when the visitors departed. Greg Noll recalls a conversation he had with Aussie world champion Midget Farrelly some years later: “Midget told me he saw me riding at Avalon when he was thirteen, and there and then made up his mind that he found what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. It was an honour to be told that by such a great champion.”
Surfing had grown in popularity when Wally Cairns and his family arrived to Sydney in the late 1950s. Wally was intent on establishing a new engineering business in the big smoke with a larger clientele. He chose a comfortable house to rent at Avalon. Mary Cairns had a sister already living there. Wally’s new dream was to build a big home by the sea after his business was up and running. His oldest son, David, suffered bronchial problems. As a nurse, Mary Cairns knew getting him swimming at the beach would help strengthen his lungs. David and his younger sister, Sue, enjoyed the beach immensely. They quickly adjusted to Sydney life. Being the new boy at school wasn’t easy for young Ian though, especially after he shit in his pants one day in the classroom and immediately became the object of cruel childhood jibes.
In the early 1960s, Wally and Mary Cairns observed their youngest son was becoming introverted compared to their oldest boy. David, four years Ian’s senior, had settled perfectly into Narrabeen High School. He was an A student, a State champion cross country runner, a star athlete, and popular with all the lads. David was on his way to becoming the school’s head prefect. Ian, on the other hand, preferred his own company. He was pretty much a loner. He was always getting injured too, or finding his way into some sort of trouble, like when playing with Richard Ponsford in Avalon’s surrounding bush land. The Ponsford boy was Ian’s only childhood friend. They were taking turns pretending to be pirates and Aboriginals. The boys had fashioned together some wooden swords and spears. Ian immersed himself fully into character. He imagined he was the brave and fearsome Sydney native warrior Pemulwuy. He aimed his spear with deadly focus at Richard and hurled it with all his might. The sharpened weapon just missed Richard’s head. The boy screamed in pain with a little spear hanging out of his shoulder. He ran home crying as blood oozed from his wound. The boy’s father was a respectable gentleman who owned the clothing store in Avalon. He was furious. He and his wife were horrified at what Ian’s ideas were of having fun. Both agreed there was something very different about the younger Cairns boy. Ian was barred for life from playing with Richard.
There was another incident not long after. Ian dragged his scooter all the way to the top of Avalon’s highest hill. He wanted to test himself and his scooter to the upmost limits of their combined ability. He jumped on and began to hurtle down the road at break-neck speed. Ian was delighted with the velocity he’d achieved and the thrill it was affording him, until he hit the wobbles, veered violently off course and crashed into a tree. The scooter was mangled. Ian suffered some scrapes and bruises after flying onto the gravel and into the bush, his first of many prangs.
IAN – One of my front teeth was knocked out. The dentist stuck it back on, but it turned black, which resulted in further ridicule at school. I was well accustomed to the taunting by then. I was a blow-in from Victoria, a total retard, little Mr Misfit who was always fucking everything up. But in the eyes of my great aunt, Agnes Alberta Paull, I was a good boy. She was a school teacher from Warrnambool. Dad was a favorite of hers because he had been to University. She regarded the rest of the Cairns clan as uneducated larrikins. Aunty Berta took a liking to me because we shared a love of reading books. When she visited I was stoked to be getting some extra attention.
One day Mum and Dad were away. Sue and I and David were fighting like crazy. I was an easy target because I was the youngest and smallest. Sue was pissed off that I was Aunty Berta’s new favorite. There was some tension between them because Aunty Berta was butting into Sue’s business. They were sharing the same room. We had this massive blue. David bashed me and Sue locked herself in our parent’s room. I attacked the door with a broom and put a hole in it. Then I got some firecrackers, big tuppenny bungers, and blew the back door off its hinges. The noise killed the budgies in the cage by the wall. I was thinking, okay this is it, I am going to cop a hiding, so I ran away. I bolted over the hills at Bilgola and ended up at the Newport rubbish tip. Mum and Dad got home and it was obvious there had been a fight, the back door was off the hinges, the budgies were dead, and I was nowhere to be found. I was the culprit of course (laughter).
There was this constant niggling and bickering between David, Sue, and I, sibling rivalries as we sought attention. I am mellow most of the time, but when I am pushed, I blow up. One day out the backyard, David and I were fighting. He was chasing me. I spotted this pile of bricks on the ground. Something snapped inside of me. I stopped and picked up a brick. He saw it in my eyes, that I was going to fucking kill him. He turned and ran. I hurled that brick and nailed him square in the back. It felt so good. I was eleven and he was fifteen. That was the last time David ever laid a hand on me.
Ian’s insecure young world began to change for the better when he got a gig as a junior crewman. One of David’s friends, Paul Gannon, was sailing small racing yachts on the Pittwater. He needed a forward-hand to work the sails and help balance the vessel. Ian was happy to quit the boring sea scouts and take up proper sailing instead. He loved the feeling of the wind in his face while flying along the Pittwater on the speedy little yacht. Slicing through the chop in a strong north-easterly breeze, when a storm was brewing and the southerly buster suddenly arrived, was the most exciting thing he’d ever done. Paul Gannon took his sailing very seriously. His older brother, Jimmy, and his mate, Ron Beschal, were on their way to becoming world champion sailors aboard the super fast eighteen footers.
IAN – There was something about sailing that really appealed to me. I was reading books about early explorers and loved the idea of traveling to unchartered waters. It seemed to me that if I was ever going to embark on some sort of big adventure, like the explorers I admired, then I needed to learn to sail. Inevitably though, I would accidentally drop the spinnaker into the water, slow the yacht down then cop a verbal barrage with an occasional thumping from Captain Paul on the tiller.
Paul Gannon stuck with Ian. The pair ended up coming third in NSW in the Vaucluse junior class. Around the same time, Wally introduced Ian to the fun and cheap thrills of bodysurfing at Avalon. Next he showed him how to ride waves using a Surfo-Plane. Ian was instantly drawn to the joy of speeding shoreward on tumbling whitewater, though a bit embarrassed at having to share an inflatable mat with his Mum. Mary Cairns joined in too, weaving through the swimmers and bathers while riding on her belly. Paul Gannon rode a home-made kneeboard which Ian graduated to. One day Ian’s attention was drawn to some surfers at the southern end of the beach. Something different was going on there. He perched himself on a rock shelf. He observed closely as Stewart Ware and Avalon’s best surfers navigated their surfboards over the shallow reef and sped shoreward along the tubular waves. Ian’s eyes and mind opened wide as the inviting surf beckoned him more. It was May, 1964. He was eleven years old.
Only a few coves further south, at Manly Beach, Sydney’s Midget Farrelly had just won surfing’s first official World Title. Bondi’s Rob Conneeley defeated Nat Young in the junior division. The results were everywhere in the news. That night Ian thought about the surfers he’d seen at Avalon. Standing tall on their surfboards, he recalled how the riders looked so dignified. He saw their unique art form and individual styles as cultivated self-expressions. Ian made a firm decision before sleeping. There would be no more belly riding or knee boarding for him. From now on he would stand up and ride waves like a real man. He too would become a wave artist. Next day, he began thinking of ways to get hold of a surfboard. More than anything now he desired to join the elite crew like Midget Farrelly who drew beautiful lines on waves and surfed so elegantly.
Surfing had evolved significantly when young Ian watched the surfers at Avalon and decided he wanted to be part of the scene. In preceding years, Joe Quigg and Matt Kivlin led the way in the use of new materials. Another Californian, Dale Velzy, used the available knowledge to introduce more modern designs, then mass produce and sell them commercially at the world’s first proper surf shops. By the early 1960s, surfboards were between nine and eleven feet long. Designs were basic streamlined, around twenty-two inches wide. The emphasis was riding across the wave while standing on a moving platform upon which surfers performed different tricks. There were very few radical turns and nothing vertical. Riding deep inside the tube on such bulky equipment was near impossible. A head dip under the curl was considered a good tube ride. At iconic point break locations like Malibu in California, with its perfect long waves, surfers like Lance Carson, Miki Dora, and Phil Edwards were gracefully walking to the front end of their boards and placing their toes over the edge to hang ten. The Californian style of “hotdog” surfing on these “Malibu” surfboards was being replicated around the world. This aesthetic form of wave riding was where the pursuit of surfing was largely at when Ian was magnetically drawn to it.
Ian’s surf plans in 1964 were put on hold when Mary took the Cairns kids for another holiday to her parent’s farm. Mary’s dad, Thor Carl Petersen, was of adventurous Viking stock. Thor’s father, Alfred Petersen, and his Danish brothers migrated to Australia in the 19th century. They settled at Woodburn in northern New South Wales and worked as farmers, horse breakers and laborers. Mary Petersen’s mother, Annie McKenzie, was born at Palmers Waters near Maclean. Her maternal grandfather, Angus McKenzie, worked his way to Australia aboard various ships. His family was Highlanders from Plockton in Scotland where they worked as fishermen and seafarers. Ian was already tapping into this marine part of his ancestry as he holidayed with his Mum’s family again. The pace of life on the Petersen farm at Woodburn was very slow. Thor and Annie Petersen were simple down-to-earth people. They worked hard and lived frugally. Almost everything they ate they grew or butchered themselves.
IAN – The farm houses were jacked up on stilts because the Clarence River flooded every few years in the cyclone season. I remember the smell of the local bakery in Woodburn. There was no fancy packaged bread coming from Lismore. Everything was produced locally. If we wanted chicken dinner we’d have to go out to the shed, catch a chook and lop its head off then watch it run around headless with blood spurting everywhere before helping pluck the feathers. Mum grew up at Woodburn during the Great Depression when swagmen, guys out of work, would come knocking at their backdoor asking for food in exchange for doing odd jobs, like chopping the wood or milking the cows. Dad’s family had done it fairly hard in Victoria too.
At our dinner table there was often talk about it. You could never waste food in our family. Leaving food on a plate was utterly unforgivable. We had to eat whatever was served up to us because Mum and Dad had lived on bread with lard dripping and offal when they were growing up. The thing about my Mum, there was absolutely no bullshit. She drummed it into us that we had to tell the truth and stand up for ourselves regardless of the consequences. If we didn’t, then we’d have to answer to her, and she was made of tough stuff.
When Ian returned to Sydney he put his plan into place to become a real surfer. He began hanging around the Avalon Surf Life Saving Club where his brother David was an active member. Ian had no interest in rescue patrols or marching along the beach in Speedo briefs wearing them silly looking caps. All he wanted was to latch onto any surfboards lying loose and get amongst the waves. Sailing no longer interested him. The surf bug had bitten Ian hard.
IAN – I got hold of a surfboard from the clubhouse and dragged it down to the sea. On my first wave I managed to scramble to my feet in the white water and ride it to shore. It was such a buzz. With that stoke came a profound feeling of discovery I will never forget. From that moment I knew I was heading in a new direction with the realization that this exciting new pastime, this thing called surfing, would take me somewhere adventurous where I wanted to go. For the first time in my life I was onto something amazing that fully suited me. I felt more in tune with it than anything else I’d ever done. I didn’t need anybody to enjoy it or express myself with. It was just me, a surfboard, and the waves.
As Ian entered his delicate teenage years, his surfing quickly improved. In December 1965, for his Christmas present, he received a brand new 9’6” Dale surfboard. He was hardly out of the water that summer. Ugly board bump calluses formed on his knees from all the paddling he was doing. His wind-burnt lips and permanently bloodshot eyes, worn like a badge of honor, were testimony to his strenuous sessions in the surf. Ian was no longer a lonely kid looking for lizards playing childhood games in the sandstone outcrops behind Avalon. He was a Sydney surfer, keener than anyone, his primary focus the ocean with all its moods and an endless supply of waves.
IAN – We lived in a rented a house at Bellevue Avenue behind the school. Dad bought this block of land on top of the hill at North Avalon where the bush reserve started. It was our family mission to get a new home built there. Ground and second floor slabs were laid, steel beams were in and the roof was partially up. It had a magnificent view of the entire beach. You could keep an eye on the surf all day long. Koala bears lived in the trees by the windows. It would have been a great place to live if we finished it.
Ian’s new and exciting amphibious world at Avalon was threatened unexpectedly one night when Wally dropped a bombshell at the dinner table. His business had gone bust again, though he kept that information from the kids. Instead he proudly informed everyone of a fantastic job opportunity working in the north of Western Australia. Engineers like Wally were required to build railroads for the emerging iron ore industry. The pay being offered was too good to refuse. After much discussion, the Cairns family all agreed to follow their Dad’s newest dream. They would move to Perth, but on one condition. Wally must find a good house close to the sea with surf nearby for Ian.
In January 1966, the Cairns family prepared to make their long journey west to start another new life. Ian’s surfboard was tied onto the roof of Wally’s tightly packed Ford Falcon. Three excited teenagers crammed the back seat. They waved goodbye to Sydney as they trekked over the Blue Mountains towards the desolate Nullarbor Plain and beyond. Mary was seated in the front alongside Wally, fulfilling her role as chief navigator and road map interpreter. From the esky beside her she had just enough room to prepare and dispense of food for hungry mouths along the way. Their provisions consisted of Spam, sliced and served with rations of bread and butter.
With less than one third of the tiresome journey completed, and the smelly farts getting worse with each can of Spam, Ian decided enough was enough. He led a backseat revolt. His older brother and sister joined the rowdy chorus, all three of them chanting loudly: “No More Spam, No More Spam.” The noise was near deafening for the older occupants in the front seat. Ian had exerted his willfulness. There was no backing down. Wally was forced to pull over with an unscheduled stop at the next town. In blistering mid-summer heat of dusty Broken Hill, he took his family into the local pub. He ordered a cold beer for himself, icy lemon squashes all around, and a huge mixed grill for everyone. Lamb chops, steak, bacon, sausages, eggs, hot chips, fried onions, and tomatoes, the whole shebang. It was the best tasting meal Ian had ever eaten. Willpower had overcome his hunger for something better. Ian’s big life adventure had begun.
There are another 37 chapters in Volume 1. You can go to www.kangacairns.com to order a book and read more. Thanks for your time.