Out of Perth...Sort of
Well as usual I've been trying to get back on the road after a week or "relaxation" with our old freind Clare and Co. and it's taken at least an additional 48 hours. I haven't been able to sort many of spares etc I needed for the next leg of the journey.
Sucsesses:
- New Rear Tire (last being replaced in Adelaide - it lapped the front!)
- New (1987) reservoir bottle.
- GPS unit has risen from the dead.
Failures:
- replacing busted odometer
- replacing busted gear shift lever
I suppose we're at least
leaning on the favorible side!
Perth is a funny place. I may have mentioned that it's quite suburban and spread out like our fair Eh-Marican towns, and that's seems quite lovely in that it's fairly clean and people seem friendly. However, these same people when asking you how you find Perth will invariably answer your question for you "Pretty boring huh?". What pittiful self asteem. I think it might be the season. I hear summer is the time to be here. And they must be right because I haven't had an enjoyable days weather since I've been here - nine days already!. It's
inconsistency is marvelously consistent however. Every day is windy and it's going to have sun, sprinkles, showers and buckets. IN NO DECERNEABLE ORDER. Not very good for motorbiking or taking pictures (3 thus far). There seem to be plenty of surfers, and the pubs get good business though. When in rome eh? Did I mention I don't surf?
So with any luck I'll be out on the road tomorrow up the coast as far as Geraldon, and then up To Denham (Monkey Mia) by Thursday evening. We'll see though. My track record at leaving a major town in one mechanical piece is...yeah.
Perth
Ah, here we are, about a quarter of the trip under the belt.
I'm the moment I'm residing in the good graces of former Brunswick street housemate Clare Dowling and her flatmates Tom, Gary, and Tassiano. Musos, dancers, entrepenurs, and all around great blokes they are.
Getting into town was interesting enough. With only a rough map of the city in my atlas and an address I cruised into town and found my way to Cottsloe just on the beach, nestled just between Fremantle and Perth. Only running a half hour behind schedule I looked for the center of town. Meanwhile, Clare and a bunch of her mates were about to settle in at the local pub for the Tri - Nation's Rugby Australia vs. UnZud. She picks up her phone to call and find out where I am when a dashing red motorcycle pulls on to the same street and I see a manic blonde running through the parking lot waving. How's that for coincidence? So suffice it to say it was drop of the bike at the appartment and make the 3:30 kick off down at the pub. Then a house party and making some new friends before setting out to the club later that night. The best moment for me came when I wasn't allowed into the club at 3am because I was still in shorts. One of the eight Kenyans I'd met at the house party blurts out I GOT JEANS in DA CAR MAN, and in perfect unison the whole group starts singing the footballer's chant "OLE OOOOLE OLE OLE OLE OLE" as we march back to the car so I can get dressed.
Pretty darn good start to the week.
So I've been ammusing my self in perth - when it's not raining - by working on the bike. Fluids, filters, and changing out this broken coolant res. bottle, as well as trying to track down a new gear shift lever so I don't have to keep having the one I got re-welded. Ian over at Maddington Motorcycle Wreckers has been instrumental here, letting me change the oil in his shop and sourcing the shift lever for me (fingers crossed). He even had the res bottle from an 87 KLR hanging about the shop. Perfect fit. First class service, second hand prices. Love it.
Also trying to resurect my GPS unit which was forwarded to me. It seems to be working but needs a trial run. The rest of the week will be more of the same, lightening the load by sending warm clothing back to base in Melbourne and gearing up for some long days up the coast. BRING ON THE SUN! And of course some Salsa, Regaee and Funky Samba music out at the clubs the next few nights. All courtesy of this weeks flat mates from Sambalicious http://www.tropicalfunkmerchants.com/
Hard bein' me. I tell ya.
Sing "Welcome to the Hotel Cali..ah hmm Kalgoorlie..."
Yeah, so we weren't good as gold as reported in Ceduna. Just after writing that and driving around the block the patch failed and I was spewing coolant out the rervoir once again. Not to worry though, cause I'd bought the boys a six pack to say thanks and now they were pretty embarassed so they got done up smart quick when I came back a second time!.
Highlights:
Crossing the Nullarbor. Boring to some definatley. But hey Dingos meet you at the Nullarbor Roadhouse and that was novel. Watching wales frollic in the ocean is pretty good too. Otherwise; Long straights and scrub. And if your lucky get the chance to leave a rubber mark 46 paces long and clip the tail of red roo which bolts out of the scrub at mach looney, hell bent on getting to the otherside of the highway for no good reason other that greener grass of which there's none to speak of.
Kallgoorlie
Ran up from Madura in an epic day (700K) to visit my friend Scott (aka Loyd Christmas which makes me Harry _?_ ) in the mining town of Cal - goo - lee, the biggest gold mining town in the country, home of a "Super Pit" Goldmine which is a wonder to see. It's also a wonder to hear how much money you can make driving a dump truck. How does as much as 3.5 grand a fortnight strike ya? Kal is wild west town. Every dirtbike in the street wheelies when they pass eachother and girls are flown in to most of the local pubs to pour beers in Lingere which they -
The Skimpy - remove as soon as the "Titty Kitty" is filled by the night's patrons. I spent nearly a week here. Now I'll admit the scenery was nice but it wasn't a weeks worth nice. Again I tried to leave town and I broke down - this time a dead battery. But it gave me the chance to meet a great German couple traveling two up on a Honda Africa Twin. Jan left GER on the bike in 2004 convinced Cloudi to meet him in India and have been on the bike together ever since. They're a wonderfully inteligient funny and inspirational pair. Oh and kind too they helped me push start the bike twice - the second time because I let it die. Thanks guys.
With a brand new battery in place, I've arrived in Esperance and don't have a clue what to do with my self. Maybe I'll go for a walk on the beach.
Westbound once again, as I've just picked up the motorbike from the shop. I've been in Ceduna for two and half days now while the coolant reservoir was patched up. I was literally saddleing up to leave town and I could smell coolant burning. A familliar smell to me, as the res had damaged by heat last year. Thanks to Mark Haugh's enginuity and his locksmiths van full of ods and ends we were able to fix it about 4000 miles and a year ago, but she finnaly gave way. The local boys have weleded a new plastic nipple on the tank and added a bit of heat sheild to the tank, so we should be 'GOOD AS GOLD MATE'!
I've a written a bit in the last day but mostly I've only gotten some pictures loaded up so have a look at those if you like.
If you click on this small slide show you can back out to see more - New Wilpena Pound photos and a portion of the Coober Pedy, and Oodnadatta photos I was able to put up. I only have about four rideable hours left in the day so I'd beter get to it.
Today: Cactus Beach, Fouler's Bay (CAmp?) or Border Town.
Tomorrow. Head of the bight and Whale watching, Eucla telegraph
Thurs: Nullarbor
Friday: Kalgoorlie?
We're away.
Seeking the Old 'Ghan
Week three on the road placed us into the heart of South Australia. From ancient mountains in the Flinders into the former oceans and barren soils of the Lake Eyre (Lake "Air") region. My main objective to run the southern third of the Oodnadatta track, reputed to be the most intresting of the outback tracks thanks to a bit of history and the ocasional thing to stop and look at. Look at what? Well The Old 'Ghan route, once a Trainline which earned it's name from the imported camel wranglers from Afghanistan. Of course before that there were the explorers Stuart and Eyre. And of course all they were doing was following old Aboriginal trade routes.
Rough route: Wilpena, Blinman, Parachilna, Leigh Creek, Marree, William Creek, Coober Pedy.
Leaving the Flinders ranges and swooping down onto the flats as I moved north was the top of the rollercoaster. And it's about all you can do in this situation to repeat "You're in Australia. You're in F@#$%^G Australia." to your self inside your helmet. You say it subtly though almost as a wispered thought because it may not be true and wouldn't that be dissapointing. And a lot of the places I've been over the last couple of weeks are Aussie, yes, but they're coastal cosmopolitan, and first world, and I'm used to the accent so in a way it's no big deal. Things are getting very big now however. Even when you know it's a big country, when you're used to hours in the saddle and a horizon that seem endless, like driving West Texas, you realize it can only get bigger and it certainly does. Australia will never dissapoint those looking for more, I can say that and I've only covered 3000 miles of it.
Well, The Oodnadatta as Chris Scott, author of the Adventure Motorcycling Handbook, describes all the major tracks, is a large 'Dirtabhan' and that's certainly true. The road is in incredible shape for where it is. Hard pack dirt, well grated with very little corrugation. Good traction and it's easy to see up ahead when that changes and you can adjust accordingly. For the most part I was curising right along at 60 mph 90 to 100 kph. Now if things got wet that would all change, it would be come impassable, and you can see the hardened but smoothed over ruts of the last time it rained, but they're rarely deep and don't really threaten to knock you off line.
It's beautiful country. The grandness is it's scale and the transitions of colors and textures of the earth that gradually change as the miles roll beneath you in their tens and twenties are almost meditative at hwy speed. It pays to stop and while away a few quite moments in the wind while you putter about an old trestle or siding building.
Now as interesting as historic, flat, barren, moonscape is it's all the better when you recieve a hero's welcome in camp each night. For the three days between Leigh Creek and William Creek and the two nights spent at Coober Pedy I was adopted by a six couples, not so grey nomads. Each night I was fed, given grog, and even placed in a couple of arragned marriges. I think the first engagment party will be in October. It was a wonderful experiance, to be taken in with such hospitality and shown such generosity. So thanks to all of you.....Susie & Rodger, Hellen & Greig, Hellen & David, Mark & April, Colleen & Darren, Con and Maria... it was a wonderfull pick me up that I really needed after being on my own several weeks. I think my mom Carolyn is even more thankful.
On the move.
Just a quick note here.
Leaving Coober Pedy (desolate s_it hole), for far greener pastures. It would have been pretty misrable had it not been for my new surrogate family of 15. Over the last three days I was taken in by 6 couples traveling together in their campers and was shown incredible hospitality. More on that soon, but for today I am on the road to Port Agusta.
- D
Wilipena Pound
Hello, hello. Here we are in Wilpena Pound South Australia, a small camp in the Flinders Range National Park. A site of great significance to both black fella, and white fellas alike. It's pretty stunning no matter how ya look at it. Imagine leaving the coastal regions of California and then more or less driving into wine country, before things start drying out reverting back in time with each dot on the road map. Things get rustic quick, and then once you think you're getting close to the outback these ranges appear like knarled lips on a dog, folding out of flat barren country into parallel ridges - maybe more like overwarn sawthoots then a knarled lips - anyway they run more or less side by side and then open up in a great uplifted basin like a spoon lying flat on the earth.
Natives described it as cupped hands, and within them a great oasis has grown and been cultivated by settlers for about a hundred and twenty some odd years. No one works the land now but begining at the turn of then nineteenth century families were doing their best to raise sheep and cattle in valey , a natural 'pound'which watered and fed the stock while holding them in one place.
I had a stroke of good weather after early morning rains which developed out of no where. When I left the tent to tend to some thirsty bushes at about 545 there wasn't a cloud to obscure the full moon, but by seven it was spitting. Midmorning I decided i wasn't here to sit in the tent so I braved the wet trails and was rewarded with several hours of sunshine in the valley floor. I picknicked with Kangaroos - well insight of, at least they looked like the roos I had scared off with the camera they could have been treestumps, or boulders they look the same at first, then one bounces. And maybe it's Warner Brothers that's ruined me, but it seems so strange not to hear some sort of spring noise. In fact they're quite silent creatures. They can hop through your camp and you'll miss them.
Well it was a really good day. My legs are quite rubbery.
Tomorrow I'll head up the road to Leigh Creek a major coal mining operation and then settle in at the pub in Maree before heading out on the Oodnadatta track for a couple of days of Outback isolation. http://www.exploroz.com/TrekNotes/Deserts/Oodnadatta_Track.asp
I'll most likely camp before reaching William Creek and Lake Eyre, then west to Coober Pedy.
Adios
