Curiosity, athleticism, devil-may-care vibes and her mother’s belief led Jorja Creighton to cycle solo the world over. So how exactly has she ended up on a cattle farm in Walcha, designing cycling routes across the New England?

I can’t even imagine what it feels like to walk in Jorja Creighton’s shoes.

That’s partly due to the fact she rarely walks, she cycles, and I can’t remember the last time I was on a bike. But it’s also because she has this inbuilt fearlessness of the world in a way I’ve never known.

She’s fearless of others’ opinions, of walking away from things that don’t serve her, of female body image, of shadows in paddocks late at night and of cycling solo across the world.

She says it’s because she’s been built up her entire life by her mum, leading her to walk in the world with an overconfidence to go and do anything, try anything and be anything, even if it’s above her skill set.

I say, well done to mum. And to Jorja… tell me more.

The maverick

“I’d describe my upbringing as fenceless – we lived on five acres of subdivided farmland in Kenthurst, northwest Sydney,” says Jorja.

“I had three older brothers, parents who knew what was best for us and a heavy duty swimming schedule. It was my whole identity as a teenager, but I suspect it was designed to keep me out of trouble more than anything. I was almost floating through it and never had dreams of being a professional.”

Regardless, she was good – one of the strongest swimmers in her age group nationwide. In 2008 she even took part in the Olympic trials, but an injury at the age of 18 led her in a different direction.

“I finished school and applied for a position at the Sydney Fashion Design Studio. You had to submit a portfolio of work and sit an interview, but I didn’t make it the first year. So I went away and focused on my sewing skills – the next year, I got in.”

I know what you’re thinking, bit of a curve ball. But Jorja says you’d often find her poolside, notepad and pencil in hand, scribbling off the wall designs on the pages within. While she adds that her sewing quality was terrible, she did score high marks for her designs due to their originality. There’s that devil-may-care vibe again.

“I’d always come up with something different, it didn’t look like everybody else’s, the teachers seemed to like that – I’m not sure they liked me very much though,” she laughs.

“Looking back now I can see there was some arrogance there, but it wasn’t backed by enough talent to really get away with it. Still, I had fun. It was hard work, but it was also the first time I really learnt how to apply myself. When I was done there, I needed to shake things up again, so I moved to London.”

She gets itchy feet this one, an attribute she puts down to the fact her family relocated every two years, “doing up shitboxes” before moving on again. Jorja thinks it’s created a restlessness in her adult life. I can see that, but I also see an adventurous soul who knows when it’s time to seek more.

So that’s what she did… by bike.

The warrior

“I’d always loved cycling, it came into the mix when I started doing triathlons as part of my swimming training,” says Jorja.

“So when I got to London the first thing I did was buy a bike. I used to ride through the streets with no sense of direction, no map, no real plan – I’d just decide what I wanted to try and find that day and ride in that general direction.

“Hours would go by, sometimes I’d never find what I’d set out for – I just couldn’t stop cycling.”

As luck would have it, there’s a job for people like Jorja. One fateful day, she met a bike courier on the streets of London and ended up joining the crew. She can’t find the words to tell me how much she loved that job. Even in the hardest of London winters, she’d be there, seriously lacking in suitable wet weather gear, donning a pair of hole-ridden Converse and a smile.

“I was obsessed. I’d never felt more challenged, or more fulfilled. My motivation? The fact that so few women were doing it. In moments like that I’m more than happy to work double, triple as hard as the men to prove myself,” says Jorja.

“I started taking on more jobs than them, getting paid more, working all hours and not complaining. Unlike swimming, I was putting all my energy into it. I have an inkling it has something to do with having three big brothers – I seized the chance to finally prove I wasn’t a cry baby.”

Jorja thrived on that feeling and wanted more – so she set her heart on long distance cycling in Europe.

Enter a man nicknamed ‘Bambi’, who happened to have his heart set on the same thing. The pair kicked off the original incarnation of Jorja’s beloved ‘Jambi Jambi’ website while riding across Europe. But what started as a way to communicate with their family and friends back home morphed into something so much more for Jorja.

“I was documenting every step of the way, writing blogs, photographing and filming our adventures, I just couldn’t get enough of it,” she says.

“Next we made plans to cycle around the world. But first we moved back to Sydney, picked up bike couriering jobs and saved for three years to make it happen.

“We started in Japan. Reached the border of India. Then we broke up.”

I know. It really packs a punch.

Not one to give up easily, Jorja kept going, cycling in the same direction as her now ex, but separately. She rode completely solo across Thailand, rejoined him at Myanmar for cultural reasons, before carrying on alone to India and to the border of Pakistan. She was 24 years old. Some of her accommodation along the way? Roadside camping. Her biggest challenge? Discovering the feeling of real fear.

“India in particular was really tough,” she says.

“It was the first time I experienced fear I think – blood draining fear. I was getting harassed fairly frequently, as a solo traveller sure, but particularly as a woman. The worst place in India is the roads, and as a cyclist, that’s where you’re spending the majority of your time.

“I shaved off all my hair, wore really big clothes to try and look bigger and started carrying knives.”

Yes, she said knives.

“Because there are moments when you’re alone and you get caught by someone who has ill intentions. So I did what I needed to do to protect myself. I changed my physical appearance and avoided eye contact. I became aggressive. And in the end, I wasn’t having a good time. So I left.”

To this day, Jorja doesn’t regret her solo cycling tour. While it impacted her view of the world, she’s glad she did it.

“I’ve toured extensively alone, I prefer it in so many ways. And despite those moments, I would absolutely do it again. I still think the world is inherently good.”

The entrepreneur

After some serious R & R in Italy, she headed to Copenhagen for the world messenger championships. Yep, turns out that’s a thing. Bike messengers from all over the world congregate, compete and wait with bated breath to see who will be named best courier in the world.

Surrounded by friends and once again doing the thing she loves most, Jorja recovered and refuelled. She started cycling long distances again and continued documenting every little part of it on Jambi Jambi.

As it turns out, her friends and family weren’t the only ones keeping an eye on her content.

“An American bike company reached out to me. They liked what I was doing and started supplying me with not only the bikes, but the motivation and inspiration to keep going. So I headed to the United States.”

Described by Jorja as “the coolest place on earth to ride your bike”, it was along the West Coast of America where she was introduced to an entire subculture of bikepacking and bike touring. She loved it – hard. And before long, her next business venture was born.

“I’d been sewing various things along the way too, just to keep me going. Then I made a new friend,” she says.

“He was unique and funny – he had really quirky ideas, so we combined those ideas with my merch to launch ‘Kook Exchange’. We were just two Aussies in the States, selling t-shirts and cycling spoof products, putting out video content and collaborating with other designers to make people laugh.

“Back then, there were a lot of people in bikepacking who were completely forgotten about in the industry. The focus was on speed, fast gear and the build up to your next race. But the fact of the matter is, the majority of people bike touring don’t give a fuck about that. It’s slapstick comedy chaos out there, people are just trying to make it to the end, and that’s the real beauty of it – the humour and the fun. They’re the people we were trying to cater for, and it worked, it became a really successful little merchandise business in the end.”

But there’s a theme, adds Jorja. That friendship ended too.

“It came to an end naturally if I’m honest. I was a bit hungrier than him and it burnt out. People would come into my world, fall off, then I’d just keep going.”

And she did. Kook Exchange was rolled into Jambz Distro under her existing Jambi Jambi brand and her reputation as a primary Australian distributor for US cycling products grew. Today, Jambi Jambi is the dominant down under supplier for all things bike touring and cycling. Jorja imports small brands who are making big changes in the industry to help fellow bike-riding lovers cycle with flair. But the business is so much more than a moneymaker, it’s a connection to her passion and a way to keep her restless soul moving, even since moving to Walcha, NSW.

The pathfinder

It’s a story shared by people the world over – a massive life shift triggered by COVID. For Jorja, that meant returning to Australia after living her US dream. While visiting family in Armidale, she decided to head south to Walcha and catch up with her friend Henry, a fellow bike courier from Sydney days gone by.

Spoiler alert: she had the biggest crush on him. Second spoiler alert: she hasn’t left Walcha since.

“We hadn’t spoken for years, but I knew he kept an eye on the content I was creating online,” she says.

“I came to his cattle farm and never left.”

Today, Jambz Distro headquarters is run out of a manager’s quarters on a separate farm just 15 minutes from Walcha. When she’s not distributing the best cycling gear this side of the Pacific, Jorja is using her seriously refined cycling nous to design routes for local councils both in Walcha and further afield, in Tenterfield.

“I keep finding new ways to do what I love, and a big part of that is route making for people throughout the New England – while I love bush-bashing and finding my own path, I appreciate a lot of people would prefer to have that served up to them, so I’ve been doing that for a couple of years now. A special project has been creating the 1000km route around the New England to bring bike packers and tourers up to see the big sky country – it’s been a slow process, but the end result will be magic.”

Along the way, she’s also redefining the way women in cycling are portrayed. And while it might not have been a deliberate act, it’s a clear message she’s thrown into the mix with grace, humour and that no fear attitude we now know and love.

“I know young girls have demons about the way they look, I’ve been there. I just can’t be bothered spending any energy on that anymore, because it gets you nowhere. It’s something I’ve worked on, I’ve redesigned my mental space around it and have made the decision that whether people are looking at me or not, I’m going to do what I want anyway.”

The enduring confidence still gets me, it’s addictive to be around. But what I love even more is how this woman knows herself. She knows what she’s done right, she knows what she’s done wrong, and she knows what she needs to do next.

“Life is morphing into something different now,” she says.

“I want to be here with Henry, but that also means making sacrifices and finding ways to cope with my innate restlessness. I’ve done all these things, I’ve travelled the world and I’ve been so lucky to live out some very real dreams of mine.

“But I also recognised a few years ago that I was lonely. So after my last relationship ended because I made the choice to go overseas and pursue my cycling career, I decided that next time, when the opportunity arises, I will make the opposite decision.

“That’s what I’m doing right here and now, on this farm with Henry. I don’t want this one to fall off, I want him in my world.”

So these days, adventure to Jorja is a state of mind. Every morning she wakes up and asks herself, ‘What’s something new I can do today?’. While it might not be as big and exciting as it once was, she’s making an active choice to slow down and savour the smaller moments in her own backyard, rather than feeling like the entire world is something she has to see and do.

She’s also working on her “evil plan” to bring more cyclists to the New England.

“It’s hard being a cyclist out here, I get it, there are a lot of barriers like the weather, the isolation, the lack of cycling groups,” she says.

“I just try to lead by example. My fitness goes up and down and while sometimes it can be embarrassing, since technically I called cycling my career, I’m not ashamed to do it my way. Even if one person is watching me ride my bike out on these country tracks and is encouraged to give it a go too, that’s all I want.”

Her top tip? Don’t take it too seriously.

“If you want to do it, just go. You don’t need all the gear, the perfect route or ideal weather. You can literally walk out the door, hop onto a shitbox of a bike, fall off a couple of times and there you have it, you’ve done bikepacking. You don’t need experience, just the willingness to take what comes your way and doing it anyway – that’s what creates the best stories.

“I think a lot of people are driven by how cool something is or how good they look doing it. But to me, I think the coolest thing is to do it ugly.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m off to buy a bike.

Website | Instagram | Photography Jim A. Barker