When most people get an email from Amnesty International, it doesn't lead to anything more substantial than a signature on a petition. When Dave Zwolenski got an email from Amnesty International, it led to him and best mate Redd Peterson dressing up as vikings, cycling around Cambodia and firing rocket launchers.
“I'm only on the [Amnesty] list by default, by accident,” Dave — known to TV audiences as the host of Dave In The Life and Embedded With Sheik Hilaly — explains. “I am, by no means, a charity pig. But this email came through asking if people wanted to ride around Cambodia for charity. Immediately, I was like, 'yeah, that sounds great'.
“You know, there are charities that specialise in this kind of thing, but Amnesty had never done a bike riding challenge like this before. This was their first one. So there was actually a group of people that went on this trip, but we kind of did our own thing.”
To say Dave and Redd “kind of” did their own thing is something of an understatement. With the help of director Dan Wedd — the unsung hero of the project — the pair set about filming a series, Viking Biking, that documented their once-in-a-lifetime journey. As well as riding 500 kilometres in 10 days, they faced off in a series of challenges that fell somewhere outside the Amnesty brief. “We went over there without much of an idea of what the doco was going to be,” Dave admits, “but we knew we were going to do it as a team. Me and Redd were in it together. The first thing we shot was a piece to camera where I explained that we were in Cambodia, and we were going to ride through it together as a team. I don't know what came over Redd, but he goes, 'yeah, yeah', and then he kicks my bike, pushes me down and rides off.”
“It was just organic,” Redd counters. “It felt natural to me at the time.”
Like a petty thief working his way up to mass murder, Redd soon escalated from kicking Dave's bike to placing a live tarantula on his face.
“Putting a tarantula on Dave's face was probably the best day of my life,” he says, with no small amount of glee. “Dave's arachnophobic. He got chased out of his bathroom by a Daddy Long Legs when he was... I'm not sure, were you 21 or 8?”
“It wasn't like that!” Dave shouts. “When I was a kid, when I was 7 or something, I was living in England and playing near a pond. On that pond was a spider web, and on that spider web was a little round ball. So I poked it and prodded it because I didn't know what it was. It expanded really fast, and I ran inside screaming. I was like, 'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' And my mum said, 'David, why are you swearing?' Then I started to get really scared because she was angry with me. So that's how my arachnophobia started.
“I told Redd this over in Cambodia, in confidence, and he said, 'let's go find a tarantula'.”
“We went to a place called Spider Town,” Redd says. “Or at least, the locals call it Spider Town. In Dave's defence, he did overcome his fear. And sometimes, facing your fears means... literally putting your fears on your face.”
“Redd was pretty proud when he thought of that.”
“Anyway, he saw a tarantula the next day and didn't even budge.”
“Yeah, I walked right up to it. I was like, 'what's up, tarantula, you dickhead?'”
“He punched it out. It was great.”
“I didn't punch it. That's cruel.”
Dave's respect for animal life doesn't stop at spiders. Incredibly, he turned down a chance to explode a cow with a rocket launcher when he had a perfectly good opportunity to do so.
“When you're riding through Cambodia,” he says, “there are always guys who ask, 'hey, you wanna boom boom lady? You wanna boom boom blonde? You wanna boom boom brunette?' And we were like, 'nah, we're cool. We don't need to boom boom any ladies.' That became a thing: 'You want boom boom?'
“And then we went to see these people who had rocket launchers and guns and stuff, and as we're driving out there, the guy says, 'so, boys, you wanna boom boom cow?' We were like, 'what? No! I don't want to fuck a cow!' He said, 'no, no, boom boom – do you want to blow up a cow?' That was much better, obviously.”
They passed on blowing up the cow (no animals were harmed in the making of the documentary), but footage still exists of the pair, in a foreign country, firing rocket launchers at a mountain range. Aren't they worried this could be their David Hicks moment?
“That's a good point,” Dave says, suddenly struck by the thought. “You think that could get us into trouble, huh? No, I don't think so. I think having the viking helmet on makes it clear it's a joke.”
“I think we've probably stumbled onto something great here,” Redd laughs. “When you're wearing a viking helmet, you can get away with a lot more stuff. I've been walking around town in Melbourne, wearing my viking horns, just stealing cars.”
At it's heart, Viking Biking is a bromance. And in any bromance, the bros will inevitably turn against each other for a while, before realising that the power of their friendship conquers all in the end. Did Dave and Redd turn against each other?
“I haven't told Redd this,” Dave reveals, “but I was concerned that would happen. We've known each other for ten years, but we'd never travelled together. What if we killed each other?”
“I had none of those concerns, by the way,” Redd responds. “I thought it was all going to be sweet. So this is awkward.”
“Well, Redd was right. It was sweet. But you never know! You never know what's going to happen! I tell you what, though, on the first day when we were riding... Redd brought arse cream. I was like, 'arse cream? What a loser; what a douche, bringing arse cream'.”
“If you ever go on a long ride, you always have to take the arse cream.”
“I thought that was the lamest thing ever. There was no way I was doing that. Four days later, I was red raw.”
“I literally made him beg, in our hotel room, for the arse cream. I made him say, 'Redd, you were right, you're amazing'. He actually got down on his knees and begged for the arse cream.”
“This was off camera.”
“If it had been on camera, it might have changed the rating of the whole doco.”
With hours upon hours of footage in the can, Dave and Redd are looking to bring Viking Biking — or at least the parts they're legally allowed to show you — to a TV screen near you. To do that, they'll need your help. The pair have started a Pozible campaign raising funds to cut the pilot together. They still need to record narration, add music and titles, distribute it to networks and create a pitch document, among other things, and these things cost money.
They're making it worth your while. Starting at $20 (your name in the credits and admission to the Viking Biking club) and topping out at $1000 (you are the VIP king or queen, heralded on a pub crawl with a crown, sash, sword, free food and drinks, and speeches at every bar about how great you are), incentives make it worth your while to donate.
The greatest incentive, of course, is the chance to actually watch the show.
“We wanted to make it funny and entertaining,” Redd says, “but also inspire people along the way.”
“Yeah, we inspire people,” Dave agrees. “To pick up rocket launchers and put tarantulas on their faces.”
To support Viking Biking, head here.
