Media
Release 17 May 1999
What
a trip!
Big joint heads for big smoke
By GREG BEARUP, Sydney
Morning Herald Journalist
 The journey to Sydney began almost on time and in fine style. Dr
Winifred Mitchell, from the Nimbin Older Women's Forum (and Bob Carr's old university
mentor) cracked a coconut shell as a symbol of good luck while hundreds of well-wishers
lined the street, chanting, clapping and dancing.
A mantis-like German holding the Hemp Olympics Torch — fashioned from the stem of an
enormous hemp plant, painted in Aboriginal dots and flamed with hemp oil — led the
procession down the main street, dressed only in a pair of silk underpants emblazoned with
the Australian flag.
The German made it to the top of the first hill outside Nimbin and waved goodbye to the
bus and its support vehicles.
The bus crossed the valley and broke down on the second hill, mercifully out of sight of
the appreciative crowd. It had fuel-pump problems. It was going to be a slow trip.
There had been an enormous amount of energy and discussion at the Nimbin Hemp Embassy on
how best to move its 12-metre joint from Nimbin to the Sydney Drug Summit as part of their
struggle for drug law reform. Should the joint be placed toke-end first for aerodynamics?
What would happen if the cops raided? Which way would they go?
Having said that, there was not a lot of planning. The Leyland bus, which had been painted
and transformed into the Cannabus, had been someone's home earlier in the week. ("The
owner assured us it had a good motor — it got them around Australia"). And it
had been manufactured a decade or so before the 1973 Aquarius Festival.
The bus broke down a further 12 times before limping into a diesel mechanic shop at South
Lismore on Friday afternoon and disgorging its cargo of old hippies, writers, small-time
dope growers, artists and a few young blokes who came for the annual Nimbin Festival,
Mardi Grass, and never left.
Like millions of people across Australia they had one thing in common — they had all
committed a criminal offence because they smoked cannabis. They think the law is silly and
they want it changed. They also think that cannabis might be forgotten at a summit
preoccupied with heroin.
Gerald Taylor, who has lived in Nimbin for many years and makes his living importing hemp
clothing, surveyed the crowd of 20-odd.
"I think we are lucky, mate," he said. "I think there are only two
certifiable fruitcakes on this trip. Sometimes in Nimbin it can be fifty-fifty."
Later in the journey, Mr Taylor realised he had been too kind and extended the list.
Michael Balderstone, a former Melbourne Stockbroker who now runs and owns the Nimbin
Museum, is the de facto leader of this motley crew — a good man, funny and endlessly
optimistic.
He reckoned they'd have the pump fixed in an hour and we'd be past Grafton by night. The
bus was fixed and drove off and broke down again. By dusk all five vehicles on the journey
had become separated. This, I was assured, was only to be expected in hippy land.
A new fuel pump was installed and somehow all five vehicles were reunited at Little Italy,
30 kilometres south of Lismore, for camp at 6.30pm.
By morning, with the motor running hot, Newcastle was in their sights. First there was a
stop at Grafton jail, where it was reckoned there'd be more than a few inmates who'd been
slotted for growing and using. The response from the guards was ambivalent. It had
also been another disappointing stop for fund-raising.
Then it was on to Coffs Harbour to see how the Big Joint stacked up against the Big
Banana.
Tourists leaned from the balcony with their video cameras, laughed and joked with the
hippies. It seems that the general public is not afraid of a big joint.
After the Big Banana there is a big hill into Coffs Harbour and as we started the descent
the brakes failed. Popeye, the driver and only straight person on the bus, was a quick
thinker. He veered it into cement railing where it halted after collecting a massive
Changed Traffic Conditions Ahead sign.
The passengers were rattled. Popeye was cool. The police arrived, looked under the bus and
gave them the number of a good brake mechanic.
That was Saturday afternoon. By yesterday afternoon the crew was still in the Target
carpark at Coffs Harbour. Another support bus had arrived from Sydney and a friendly
mechanic was under the Cannabus. Mr Balderstone was optimistic.
They'd be in Sydney by this morning - "no dramas, mate".
"Look, we've got all these idiots talking about drugs and none of them have ever used
them. We need to be there. We've got to be there, to offer them our experience. You can't
buy drug experience like we've got."
If things have gone to plan, The Big Joint should be marching on Parliament House this
morning. It will have been an epic journey.
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