WHAT A TRIP! BIG JOINT HEADS FOR BIG SMOKE

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.