Don't Stop Believin'

by Olivia Newton-John

  We stocked up on the basics, including boxes and boxes of crackers, which came in handy during our breakdown on the way to the professor’s house. Maybe I forgot to mention that we also bought our own bottle of vodka for our travels, but couldn’t find paper cups, so we used plastic cookie containers. Beggars can’t be choosers! I’m not ashamed to say that all of us (minus our driver) drank vodka the entire way to the professor’s house. The drink made up for a faulty van heater that only worked on and off.

  During this once-in-a-lifetime journey, I found myself wanting to stop all the time and look at the amazing architecture and huge statues of Stalin that stood 20 feet tall in the air. You could say that they left quite an intimidating impression.

  And forget about the glamour of five-star hotels. Our accommodations were very basic. At our suburban Moscow hotel, there was a severe-looking lady in a grey uniform with her hair pulled tightly into bun. Announcements in Russian would play over the hotel PA system every twenty minutes, day and night. It was enough to make Madonna, Michelle and me feel a bit uncomfortable. From the first night on, we decided to sleep in one room together. The bathroom included a rusted-out sink and a toilet and a rusty shower that was dusted with cockroach powder. And there was no need for an alarm clock. At precisely 6 a.m., loud music came on through the public-address system indicating it was time for the whole hotel to rise and start the day.

  No one recognised me in Russia, which was why we thought it would be okay to explore a bit of the nightlife scene. We were taken to an underground nightclub where the music was overwhelmingly loud. Like everything else, it was a bit scary and seemed to be run by the Russian mobsters.

  I met so many lovely Russian people who had incredibly simple existences by Western standards. They were warm and welcoming, which wasn’t surprising to me – my mother had Russian friends who spent time with us when I was little and I loved their company.

  I met more amazing people when we ventured to a Russian farm for part of the shoot to stay with a couple who raised orphaned baby bears after their mothers were shot by hunters. The husband, who was a professor, wouldn’t touch the babies, but he would feed them and make sure they were safe, hoping that they would be self-sufficient by the time they were returned to the wild. It made my heart soar to watch these adorable little black bears follow the man around as if they were his own children. Our cameraman even donned the professor’s khaki hooded coat, which smelled of him, and the baby bears began to follow him into the forest. I walked behind the little bears who stopped when we arrived at a tree that contained a honeycomb.

  I’ll never forget those baby bears running up the tree to get a sweet treat. What we didn’t expect was the traumatised bees who came flying out, but they weren’t that interested in the bears. Instead, they went inside our cameraman’s hood and stung him about thirty times.

  Very soon, he went running back to the little farmhouse with the bears in tow. The professor’s wife took one look at him and nodded – the idea of needing treatment ASAP wasn’t lost in translation. Luckily, he wasn’t allergic to bees, but the sting spots felt as if they were on fire.

  And what do you think they treat bee stings with in Russia? Why, of course, she reached into the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of vodka! It wasn’t long before she was dabbing the vodka on him with a little white rag. Wouldn’t you know it? Soon he felt much better!

  That night, we sat outside the farmhouse by a roaring fire that reached up to touch the star-filled sky. It was one of those moments in life when you stop and reflect on how far you’ve come as a human being on the planet. The little Aussie girl was literally on the other side of the world having the most magnificent experience under unknown skies.

  I felt invigorated and grateful.

  As entertainers, we have a way of starting conversations due to our celebrity. This is one of the best parts of being in the public eye: even world leaders want to meet you. In my case, Mikhail Gorbachev, the leader of the former Soviet Union, consented to do an interview with me for my show.

  Diane Simon, a dear friend of mine who created environmental organisation Global Green with Gorbachev, arranged for me to go to a grand Russian hotel to interview him about environmental issues in Russia and the world on camera for the show. I have never been shy in front of power, but this man was a little intimidating. What I remember about Gorbachev was that he had one eye that was kind and compassionate, while the other eye was strong and piercing. Maybe you need both to be a world leader.

  There were many times during the interview that I didn’t think he was looking at me. He seemed to be looking through me.

  I can’t really remember much of our discussion, but when we were finished, he embraced me in a strong bear hug, which was warm and friendly.

  What an experience – I’ll be forever grateful. I felt like Barbara Walters for a day!

  After all of our international adventures, it was only natural that I bring my Madonna and Michael Jackson, plus our director and crew, to my homeland for a little Aussie holiday and corresponding shoot. I knew that this might actually log in as one of our most adventurous stops and made it clear to the director that I had a few caveats when it came to shooting in the wilds of Australia – because things can get pretty dicey.

  ‘I don’t do heights or the ocean,’ I informed him. ‘In fact, I’m terrified of both.’

  He reminded me that I had ‘done heights’ before on the show when they’d placed me on the top of some very tall trees in the gorgeous Costa Rican rainforest.

  ‘That was a one-off,’ I assured him.

  The way he smiled and nodded, I knew that he wasn’t exactly listening as the wheels in his mind began to turn. What’s better than a slightly unsure ONJ in nature? A terrified ONJ! It would make for some great TV!

  I had no desire to repeat my day up in the trees in Costa Rica: I’d been shaking in my boots! From my vantage point above the rainforest canopy, in one of those little orange baskets attached to a hoist, I could see where the birds lived and heard them singing from their nests. Every few minutes, there was a rustling that needed immediate defining – I was assured that it was just the local monkeys coming around to see what was happening.

  Once I got up there and cameras rolled, I could barely speak, but I finally managed to say a few, very short sentences. When I arrived down firmly on terra firma, I thought the danger was over – but silly me. We went down to the beach for more filming and Matt decided to pick up a snake called a fer-de-lance. This was an extremely venomous little guy who belonged to the viper family. One bite can be fatal to humans. Yes, Matt actually picked up this lovely snake, brown in colour with a series of black-edged diamonds on its side.

  I reacted the way any woman would under those circumstances.

  First, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  Second, I began to run. In the opposite direction.

  Matt wasn’t the least bit afraid, though, even though he had a history with snakes. When I had my baby shower for our daughter, I was at Pat’s house celebrating this wonderful time in my life. Between little sandwiches and presents, I got an emergency call from my brother-in-law saying that Matt had been bitten by a baby rattlesnake. Who knew that the baby ones are more venomous than their bigger family members?

  ‘How does a rattlesnake bite a human being who is biking?’ I frantically asked. Oh, what a silly question. My brother-in-law replied calmly, ‘Your husband decided to get off his bike and pick one up.’

  It turns out he was allergic to the antivenin and soon found himself at UCLA Medical Center where they treated him successfully.

  Whew!

  But back to our memorable experience taking the Human Nature show to Australia. One evening, I glanced at the production schedule for the next day. Many times, I had no idea what we were about to shoot, and that element added to the drama of the series.

  This wasn’t surprising, though. It was shocking! The one who was afraid of water (and all the creatures in it) woul
d be shot diving into the Great Barrier Reef to feed giant potato cod who called this area home. These fish can weigh between six and thirty kilograms, and they were often fed by divers who loved to photograph them. But their numbers were rapidly declining as the site became more popular and people disturbed their natural habitat. Cod Hole was one of the best-known dive sites in the world and the subject of a heated debate locally over reef management.

  There was only one problem. I had never been diving – and it really wasn’t something I wanted to do. The only thing worse for me than going to the top of the rainforest would be going under the ocean.

  I knew that these gentle fish weren’t the only wildlife that frequented this area. Three words struck fear into my heart: shark-feeding frenzy! I was terrified of seeing even one shark, but my director convinced me that it was totally safe. One deep breath and I decided to take this on as a challenge. A warm sunny morning later and I was sitting on a boat in the Pacific Ocean, with the stunning aqua-blue water giving me a (short-lived) peaceful feeling.

  The captain of the boat came out to meet me when we got close to the cod hole.

  This is not happening!

  I went underwater and fed the cod, and still couldn’t believe I was doing this. The feeding wasn’t uneventful. One of the people in our group was bitten by an eel who had arrived unexpectedly to eat the food. I was told that, although a bit uncomfortable, she would be fine.

  I was so proud of myself when the captain pulled me onto the boat. I took off my mask.

  ‘So, what do you think about swimming around shark alley?’ he asked me.

  Shark alley?

  ‘They’re mostly harmless,’ the captain said.

  I was focused on the word ‘mostly’.

  When we looked down, a few sharks were swimming around. Luckily, I didn’t see any when I was underwater with the cod or I’d still be screaming.

  Our delightful captain was only too happy to set the record straight because he said I was one of his favourite singers and he didn’t want me to be otherwise known as shark food. It turns out the Great Barrier Reef is home to numerous species of sharks including bottom-dwellers known as wobbegongs, and larger, even more terrifying ones like tiger and hammerhead sharks. There are even sharks named for the place, called white-tip and black-tip reef sharks.

  ‘The good news,’ the captain said with a smile, ‘is that the white and black-tips feed on fish and pose no danger to divers. They’re even considered quite timid.’

  I would have to take his word for it.

  As the boat lurched back towards shore, I saw even more sharks.

  Back on dry land, I had to laugh. Because of this show, I had faced and conquered two of my biggest fears: heights and water. I did it and I was proud of myself.

  I learned to face my fears and do it anyway.

  Another environmental mission close to my heart took me back to Australia: to fight for the continued existence of the ancient trees. Some of the most pristine forests on the planet are located there, and this is where some of the tallest, primordial and most treasured trees in the entire world can be found. Some of these trees are over 500 years old and up to 90 metres high. They’re filled with nooks, holes and crannies that are like a history book. These ancient trees are not just majestic, sturdy and awe-inspiring, though. On a very practical level, they are also the place many species of local animals and birds call home.

  I strongly encourage anyone to spend a few hours getting lost in the trees. A sense of tranquility and peace will come over you, providing a welcome relief from your daily stresses. The sad part is that tree logging is still a flourishing industry in Australia.

  I returned home to tour these ancient trees, including one major stretch of forest that had been hacked down. The devastation was frightening and sad. This once thriving, lush and untouched area actually looked like a war zone. Instead of being a place of life with a canopy of trees reaching skywards, indigenous plants and an animal habitat, there were just piles of rotting wood left over from the chopped-down trees. It brought tears to my eyes as I toured these former wonderlands, knowing I wouldn’t ever be able to take my daughter to see these 500-year-old treasures. And future generations of Aussies had forever lost such a life-affirming part of their culture.

  The stats were not good. Over half of the Australian forests had already fallen victim to this kind of deforestation.

  What could I do to help? I joined forces with environmentalist Jon Dee of Planet Ark to bring attention to the plight of the forests there, and even worked to plant one million new trees on National Tree Day to help replace those that were lost. Jon and I began to spread the word that the trees needed to be saved. ‘There is more money to be made from Australian tourism and people visiting the trees than the pennies brought in from the wood chips,’ Jon said, adding, ‘I’ll forever be grateful to Olivia for shedding light on this subject. We exposed this issue and saved so many of the ancient trees for generations to come.’

  I’ve planted over 10,000 trees on my property in Australia. When I wander among my trees, it’s almost a spiritual experience for me. It’s going to nature’s church.

  I’m proud to say our efforts resulted in planting millions of trees.

  One of my favourite moments on my global travels to save the planet was in the seventies, long before I was married or had Chloe. I was invited to take part in a TV show that would take cheetahs back to Namibia in Africa. The numbers were quite devastating. Only a hundred years ago, there were 100,000 cheetahs on earth, but by the mid 1970s, over 90 per cent of these amazing cats, the fastest land animal, were gone.

  A dedicated woman named Laurie Marker was working on a plan to save them by repopulating a part of the world where their survival was more likely. The cheetahs Laurie brought were born in captivity in Oregon and were used to being fed, so the experiment was to bring them back into the wild to teach them how to hunt for their own food, breed and replenish the species.

  My mum had come along with me to Namibia because she loved adventure, animals and photography. It was the perfect trip for her. It was a long and arduous journey, travelling in planes big and then small, before riding by jeep across the most beautiful land where hundreds of free species of every kind of wild animal roamed. What a sight!

  All of us stayed in a small house that had a pool, but you couldn’t just dive in. The first moment we arrived at the house, I casually walked past the pool and saw that there was a cobra snake in it. The cameraman went to film it, got a little too close (as guys like to dare themselves to do), and the cobra responded by hissing and darting in his face. Luckily, we had the camera between him and the venom. He got the shot, but at what risk!

  I knew at that moment this was going to be a challenging shoot.

  Laurie was there with us. She was a special woman who was a native of Oregon, and had moved to Namibia to oversee the Cheetah Conservation Fund. One of the exciting parts of her program was tracking these cheetahs that were being released, so she would know where they were located and if they were still alive. Each morning, to teach them to hunt and survive, we would rig an animal carcass to the back of the jeep and drag it behind us for two very young cheetahs to chase. This was the way they would learn to hunt in the wild.

  Our cheetahs, who were used to being served a few nice meals a day in captivity, didn’t want to hunt anything at first, but instead would play with the carcass and chase their friends – us. I would wake up early in the morning and sit by the waterhole with my purring cheetah Cayahm while antelope were frolicking nearby. I would say to him, ‘Go hunt! Look at that antelope over there! Look at that deer! It’s called breakfast!’ This went against the grain for me, though. I didn’t want to watch any beautiful animal kill another one. I loved all of the animals, but had to remember that this was the circle.

  Finally, and very slowly, the cheetahs learned to look at the outdoors as their home in every single way. Unfortunately, this was after we left.

  Mum
loved the trip. I really believe I inherited my love of travel and wildlife from her. Brave and daring, Mum wanted to get out there and see everything.

  One night in Africa we were doing a night shoot and driving around in the jeep when our aide, Adolph, stopped on a dime in the middle of the desert.

  ‘Don’t move,’ he said. I didn’t need to be told twice!

  I watched as he walked out into the darkness, where anything could be lurking, and used his long nightstick to pick up a snake that was in our way. It was a 10-foot-plus python, but Adolph wasn’t concerned. He was used to python roadblocks, and simply put the deadly snake in a brown hessian sack and placed it in the back of the truck. The next day we were filming and they wanted something dramatic as I drove past. They put the non-venomous snake in the tree.

  I had a new co-star.

  We filmed another segment about the white rhinoceros, whose population was and is in serious danger. Farmers in Africa have thousands of acres of land each and if a rhino ends up on someone’s property, they get poached. Our mission that day was to relocate a rhino who had wandered onto the wrong piece of land and was in danger.

  Our little group included men on horseback in front, Mum and me in the jeep with our director, and Adolph driving very cautiously. We not only spotted a very large white rhino, but he also saw us and decided to charge our vehicle. I remember his massive horn butting the lower part of the jeep and Adolph flooring it so we could take off. I was scared for the horses, who luckily did manage to outrun their rhino ‘friend’. In the end, we did move that rhino back to his rightful home instead of having him drift off into one of the farms to meet his demise.

  Animals have been one of the great delights of my life since I was a little girl. I’m drawn to them, sometimes more than I’m actually drawn to people. When we lived in Cambridge where I was born, the love of my five-year-old life was a beautiful Irish setter called Pauly-Auly that lived next door. (Can’t believe I can still remember his name after all of these years!) I found any excuse to hang out with him. As a little girl, I was also given a little green tortoise as a pet. My Uncle Gustav knew that I had the mumps and brought the little guy to me in a brown paper bag, so my dad couldn’t see what was happening until it was a done deal. I was allowed to keep him as a pet, but that was it until I was old enough to have my own home.