HOW HARD CAN IT BE...

 

Listening to WEIR Killing Heidi 1999

Monster debut song for the group Killing Heidi

fronted by country Victorian kids Ella and Jesse Hooper

Once again both were extraordinarily young when this

song broke. Definitely needs to be at eleven on the volume knob!

KLR Ken and DR Dean find out how hard it can be!

It's just turned seven am and it's warming up already. Not gonna need this jumper on. I'm on the Wyndham road heading away from Kununurra meeting Ken at seven thirty at the Gibb River Road entrance. I've got forty kilometres to go in

Straight on Deano.

thirty minutes doing about ninety kilometres an hour. My brain is doing the calculating hashing it down to !@#ck it it's near enough I'll be right. The scenery along here is magnificent in the morning sun. Precious and I buzz up and down over a vibrant vista of red and green rolling landscape framed with solid blue black cliffs and outcrops of piled stone. It bodes well for the day and excitement wells as  I near the corner. This should be good. I arrive a minute late and oh oh...no one here. Shit...I hope we got our messages right. I park up where I can see about a kilometre down the Wyndham road while watching for other vehicles heading into and down the track. A set of tiny headlights appear in the far distance and silently materialise into a black KLR winging it's way across the plain towards me. Ken arrives in a flurry of blazing running lights and blatting Staintune muffler. Wow...his KLR is impressive fully loaded. He is carrying a lot of gear, about fifty kilo's I think, but it's extremely well thought out and looks a well balanced setup. Ken is on a proper unlimited time bike trip around Australia and even has his own You Tube channel (Kensbikestuff). As Ken and I have only really met for a short time on the street we reacquaint and get on instantly. We both are running the same blue tooth setups so we hook them up so we can chat as we ride, share expletives, and maybe even the occasional less colourful sensible part of the English language.

A couple of happy snaps at the famous 

track warning sign and we're off! 

Good to bad to worse to worst!

The start of the road is magnificent. It's bitumen for a little way and the scenery is epic ranges and rock formations. We toss about over the bluetooth stopping to take photos but figure there's gonna be lots of opportunities today so let's get some

You know it's early when
your legs are this long!

kilometres done. It's seven hundred and twelve kilometres from Kununurra to Derby and just over four hundred to Mount Barnett. We're headed for Mount Barnett today under the understanding that there's fuel food and lodging there. We both figure it's gonna be a push to get there but with the first seventy odd kilometres being bitumen and with an early start we're in with a chance. The bitumen eventually stops and I'm reminded of riding into the gravel on the Cape Yorke ride. Deep breath, bang it back a gear, steady throttle, scan whatever shit the road is made of and look ahead. The first part of the road is OK. Lots of really big rim bender rocks for kilometres with regular gnarley outcrops set into the road that demand constant attention.  Zooming along at about eighty kilometres per hour we chat over the bluetooth that this is doable as long as we don't hit the wrong rock and break something. Patches of red begin to appear on the road signalling the arrival of corrugations and sand but nothing as bad as the road to the tip. The Pentecost river crossing arrives and erm...it's bigger than I thought...and it's a rocky base underneath. There's a family with a 4wd and 

Drone tech conference...who can we get 
to go in first to test the depth...Deano!

camper on the bank waiting to cross and the husband is setting up a drone which signals an oh oh moment in me. Ken pulls up, rummages in his luggage and rips out a drone as well...hmm, ah well...I haven't got one so I'll go first then. I zoom into the water all dignified and composed and within seconds I'm bouncing all over the place with legs flying about lurching dabbing and splashing. It's bloody bumpy and deep but Presh and I make it out OK albeit with lots of steam and two boots full of water. After everybody makes it across I manage to squeeze my socks out as Ken has another  drone tech conference with the the 4wd driver. These wee flying machines take awesome photos and I wish I had to patience to use one. 

Picture of the Pentecost River crossing taken by an earthling (me)!

Picture taken by drone! You can see the scenery behind disappearing not to return.

I gun Precious out of the sand away from the river confident that, well, someone told me there's only one proper river crossing and that's gotta be it! The landscape flattens out to super ordinary dry grassland and the road steadily gets worse. There's the occasional small range to cross with maybe a little bitumen on the top but mostly we're banging along on a flat windy landscape with numerous signposted washout dips. There must be hundreds and hundreds of these dips showing how much water

We held each others bikes from behind on
this crossing to steady them over the
biggest rocks.

must be around in the wet season. Each dip demands standing on the pegs just in case it's sandy in the bottom or loose on the way out. There's very little traffic on the road so far compared to the Tip road so at least the dust is manageable.  Another smaller river appears with an extremely dodgy stony bottom so we dismount and hold each other's bike steady over the biggest rocks. The road slowly descends from road to track and it's obvious that there's been no maintenance on this end for a long time. The track deteriorates on a scale that gnaws away at our confidence and challenges our skill and concentration. It constantly changes from red corrugated sand to stony grey loose corrugations and then throws in a newey with some sort of loose shale for the biggest widest corrugations yet. The red sand is the worst and demands long sections up on the pegs. It's a choice of hammering through dust filled corrugations smashing the forks and wrists to pulp

Time for a break and to deflate my forearms!

 or ploughing into loose red bulldust  billowing clouds of ochre red fog and tank slapping on the way out.  About thirty kilometres before the Mitchell Falls turn off the corrugations and sand get so bad we are down to first and second gear and starting to crawl along. There is no safe speed with corrugations and sand this bad and there is no line anywhere to avoid it. We agree over the blue tooth that this can't last and we'll take it slow for a while which ultimately hammers man and machine even harder but feels safer. For the first time ever I get really bad arm pump when I'm standing up. My forearms and hands lose strength and feeling just when I need them most and I have to mentally will my hands to grip the pounding handlebars. It's the weirdest scariest thing and shaking them or stopping to rest doesn't seem to help. Precious is an old gem and soaks it all up saving my ass over and over. Huge tank slaps in the sand are gently slowed and we manage to keep a slim semblance of control. Ken and I battle on to the Mitchell Falls turnoff and finally have a decent break. Woa, !@ck that was as bad as the worst of  Cape Yorke but for far far longer.

We dissect the road over bottles of water and muesli bars...

...it must get better!

It's no longer how bad can it be...

...it's now the worst we've ridden!

We set off in good spirits hoping we've got the worst behind us but nothing changes....aaargh. The expletives exchanged through the blue tooth are hilarious and it really helps to share the pain. We occasionally find a good line and slip into top gear before once again tearing into another pile of red dust or grey rock and back down the gears. About thirty kilometres before Mount Barnett Station

Ah there's the promise of beer and
sustenance over the other side,
...in ya go Deano!

I'm totally buggered but a bit mentally angry..or maybe just a bit mental. The road opens up a bit with lots a big rocks and still lots of loose sand. !@ck it I'm over it. I channel all my years of watching the Dakar Rally on telly and Precious and I up the pace and go for gold. Rocks beat a symphony on the alloy bash plate and try to knock my feet off the pegs as my tired eyes and fried brain lock onto the road surface looking for any rock bigger than tennis ball size or any sand with deep wheel tracks...sand with deep wheel tracks !@&#n  watch out! Just before our destination we come to the  Barnett River crossing. Hmm. The water is crystal clear and there's a concrete bottom but erm...it looks kinda deep. Ah I'll go first...splash...shit shit shit aaaar I feel water in my boots again drdrdrdr aaand we're across, that was a deep one!

Now Mount Barnett...where's my reward...a cold beer and a good sleep please...

I deserve it!

Listening to WHERE THE BLACK TOP ENDS Keith Urban 2001

OK I'm a Kieth Urban fan. How did this happen? Well, his greatest

hits album somehow ended up on my bluetooth when I was crossing 

Russia and Mongolia back in 2014. That huge country stadium

sound he puts out is great for travelling,,,and, I was missing 

my Mrs and kids...and my dog...and my pickup etc etc etc

Mount Disappointment 

We pull up to the pumps at Mount Barnett station and fill up.  Another reason for this as our destination is that it's one of the only places that sells unleaded in the

I guess what we really needed most was 
fuel and that they had!

area. We are both absolutely exhausted. I'm so tired I actually feel a bit crook and a wee bit remote. We join a slow moving queue at the counter inside with great expectations. Ken is ahead of me and doesn't look happy...sooo no beer as it's a dry community...that's fair enough...no food as the kitchen shuts a two o'clock...hmm oh oh...aaand no accommodation...oh and the only camp site is seven kilometres away at Manning Gorge...for twenty five bucks pay here please. We're both so buggered we grab a couple of cokes and go sit outside to consider our options...which is pretty silly cos there is only one! Back inside, pay up, and grab a map to the Gorge. The track to the Gorge is seven

Ah yeh mate put ya tent anywhere ya like.
Hmm...what if I don't like anywhere?

kilometres of total shit. Deep sand which has us paddling along to stay upright, speeding 4wds squeezing past and covering us in dust, and even a slippery muddy section with a cattle grate in the middle. We arrive at the site and are surprised by how many caravans and camper trailers are there. The site is a really average dust bowl surrounded by dry prickly bushes and any half good places to pitch a tent are already taken by the vans . There's one tired grubby shower/toilet block run by a caretaker who checks your receipt on arrival. Ken is not happy!  He's been camping out for months all over northern Australia and is gobsmacked by how crappy this is! Aaaanyway nothing for it but to find a spot,

Dust and prickles...how relaxing

 pitch the tents, and see what we  can find in our bags to eat. I've got ring pull can of baked beans which actually goes down well with an Up & Go and muesli bar. At sunset we wander down to the gorge which is a beautiful water hole popular with many swimmers. There's a track on the other side and apparently the trick is to put your shoes in a plastic bag, swim across, and hike down the gorge. Aaaaah not for me...tonight I've got a job just to hike back to the tent to pass out! That night I sleep well. We're camped under a giant old baobab tree and tonight it's a full moon. I get up for a pee during the night and the light through the tree is pretty cool and spooky so I wander about in the moonlight trying to photograph it. 

 Jeez I really am fried!

I was so tired I would probably have drowned if I went in!

So you tog off, put your shoes in a plastic bag, and swim 
over before hiking off into the distance...
...aah too adventurous for me!

Ah this is the best I could do...spooky huh?

Just three hundred more!

We're up, packed, and back at the roadhouse early on the promise we can get breaky there from eight am. We wolf down egg and bacon rolls and what Ken calls the worst coffee he's ever had while we chat to other travellers. One is

If you're offering bacon and egg rolls
for breakfast we'll be there!

hastily trying to get a starter motor sent out for his Prado as his has shaken to bits, and another family is making their way back to Broome to fly home. Their camper trailer has snapped it's chassis and has been trucked to Kununurra. They're leaving their 4wd at the airport while the camper is patched and flying back later to tow it home ..on the bitumen! We're assured that the road gets better towards Derby with road crews at work fixing it, and we know the last one hundred kilometres is bitumen so we set off in high spirits . The first fifty kilometres is as bad as the worst we have ridden....aaargh no, and then finally, we come across the promised road building crew. It's a huge operation and it looks like they are going to seal the road 

Hmm, slightly better than yesterday.

all the way to Mount Barnett eventually. We scoot along a totally smooth rolled and compressed red runway for about twenty kilometres after which the fun's all over again. Oh dear. The road deteriorates once again into a nasty rocky back road for the next one hundred and thirty kilometres but a least the scenery picks up and we can make reasonable time. The bitumen arrives at the Tunnel Creek turn off...woo hoo! (That was a very tired woo hoo, more of a woo...sigh...hoo) Ken is heading down to Tunnel Creek on the recommendation of a family member and to film some stuff for his You Tube channel. We shake hands and part. I'm gonna miss our non stop banter and expletive ridden road descriptions. Thanks mate. Your fine company changed two days of totally risky hardship into a great silly adventure!

 Me though, I'm done with dirt! 

I'm hitting the bitumen, staying on there, and going to Derby! 

The only other  business along here is this guy 
who repairs tyres. There were dozens of blown
tyre carcases all along the way as well as various
 broken parts and luggage that had surrendered
to the road and shaken off vehicles.

Me!

Some scenery decided to return in the last two
 hundred kilometres...good of it really.

What's smooth and straight and hard...
...and what I've been waiting for!
(Bitumen road OK)

Listening to FLYING WITH THE KING Lee Kernigan 2013

Lee's true story of a chance meeting with Slim Dusty when he was 

a kid. Soooo country soppy and totally lovable!

 Ah get your hanky out...aargh, am I the only one with a hanky 

these days?

Reflecting.

I'm sitting outside my overpriced backpacker room in Derby waiting for the bistro (?) to open. Once again I couldn't come at a tiny patch of muddy ground at the same price as a caravan site in the caravan park. Soooo here I am blowing

What, no sentries or watchtowers...yet?

the budget again. I had a roam around the area when I arrived and it's pretty sketchy around here. There's a poor supermarket nearby that's most likely being mauled by the modern Woolies in the newer part of town. It has very little on the shelves and just having a customer is more likely to raise eyebrows than a profit. The lodge I'm in has monster sliding iron gates that are locked at night and any shops nearby are covered in mesh and bars. There's a flash upmarket pub over the road with rooms and units and also caters for vans. It looks like a modern high security prison at the back with cameras and mesh and wire etc. Hmm.

This place I'm in has it's own catering... I guess it's just so you don't have to venture out after the gates are shut at night...

...I dunno...hmm...in Australia...we really ain't so different are we...

Precious sits proudly in the carpark next to a huge roadtrain prime mover. She's covered in dust and mud from our small battle and appears to have

Road train prime mover next 
to a dirt road prime mover!

survived unscathed. I swear she's a smoother and happier bike after the thrashing she's just had. Her tank got many a pat along the way as she compensated for my lack of skill staying straight and upright despite the worn out old monkey flailing at her controls. I won't be washing her for a while just so she can wear what she earnt. It's no big deal for most people I guess...the road's just a man made (maintained?) thoroughfare, a road, a track, a way for humans to get from one place to another as they always have done...with rocks and sand and corrugations and stuff...hmm...so really,

...how hard can it be...weeell...for me...

...the hardest.

Reality check

I'm a long way from home...and I need to be there. The D strain of covid has changed the rules and there's high speed shutdowns happening everywhere. Western Australia is bloody expensive...mining town prices apparently! My budget is already fried and the price of travelling the north west coast of Western Australia has reformed my plans from here on in.

 I gotta head for home asap...non stop. 

Straight down and round to home!

If I get caught in an extended lockdown over here it will be eye watering expensive so it's time to get home. Motel prices up here are often up to a hundred dollars dearer than down south and food anywhere but Woolies is nuts. It's killing the fun. Because there's been no backpackers for over a year all that cheap accommodation has dried up. Aaah round about six or seven thousand kilometres I think...my ass hurts just thinking about it! Hmm...and half will be in freezing weather. Prec mate, some fresh oil for you and we'll be off!

Just like being half way along the the Gibb River road it's no use whinging, just gotta keep riding to the end! 

NEXT BLOG

TRYING TO GET DOWN THE WEST 

COAST BEFORE IT  COMPLETELY EMPTIES 

MY WALLET!

Thanks once again for your comments. They are always appreciated and I can't wait when I release a new blog to see if anyone has enjoyed it...or not!