GOING STRAIGHT...

Listening to 

GET BACK HOME

Max Merritt and the Meteors

Here's a rare one! Nah you'll never have heard of it. 

I've got it on a DVD of the 1972 Sunbury pop festival. 

Pull it up on You Tube and capture some free love boomer

 vibe from the Sunbury festival. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIlnhIlZ6GM

What's it all about then?

Corners...at last! The tyres squirm in confusion and scrabble for traction as I tip into the first decent corner after thousands and thousands of kilometers of straight road. I'm smiling and cheering in my helmet as the road finally challenges my concentration and skill after the drone down the west coast of Western Australia and across the Nullarbor Plain. A cold useless sun presides over beautiful rolling countryside as I crest rises and bank through perfect curves on the almost deserted road towards Yacka. My mind appreciates and absorbs the stunning myriad of green, yellow, and brown hues the patchwork quilt farmland presents before me in the glassy cold clear morning. I spy once magnificent farmhouses down muddy lanes, all smoking chimneys, crooked bullnose verandahs, and rusting galv roofing. I'm maybe two hundred kilometres from home between Crystal Brook and Clare and hmm...shit, we're almost done. In an hour or two I'll pass the Broken Hill turnoff on the Clare road I passed tennish weeks ago on my way north...roughly completing the circle, hmm...hang in there Precious. Wow, almost there...some questions for reality check perhaps...what do I know now I didn't ten weeks ago...what do I regret...what would I change...

...would I do it again...

...what was good...or...was there anything good? 

I roll over some more ranges and wham...the stunning vista that is the Clare Valley is laid out before me in a left to right panorama that takes my breath away and brings me to a skidding halt in the roadside mud. I shut Precious down, put the music on hold and flip my visor. My breath condenses in the freezing air as my head rotates from horizon to horizon drinking in the view. Two things I know right then and there...my shitty photography or any pictures, film, You Tube, blog or telly show, ain't ever really gonna capture this or any other real travel experience and...after being all over and seen a bit (sorry real bad English).

I still love South Australia best!

See, this is South Australia...why would you leave?

Listening to THE REAL THING Russell Morris 1969
C'mon does it get any more Aussie than this?
Written by Johnny Young, produced by Molly Meldrum
 and sung by Russell Morris, with all sorts of other 
folks having input along the way. There is so much weird stuff swirling around in this recording it's a marvel it even works as a song let alone becoming a no.1 hit and an
all time Aussie iconic tune.

Testing Times

I'm sitting on my bed in Bridgetown Western Australia eyeing off my bags stacked by the door. I've just opened the outside door and been assaulted by the wind and rain blowing back in at me. Aaargh. It usually takes at least three trips in and out the door to get everything onto the bike and there's three flights of wet

Three slippery flights down and
it's rainig...yeh nah I'll wait. 

  concrete stairs down to Precious. Yeh nah. I feel like shit today and going ass over head down the stairs is my speciality even on a good day so erm...I think I'll wait a bit. I finally set off towards Manjimup in grey wet conditions. The plan is to stay on highway one through the forests and then head down along the coast to Albany. After a killer sore throat overnight I'm obviously contracting a cold so my mood matches the grey conditions as I sit in the spray of the mild morning traffic towards Manjimup. I'm wearing so many layers I'm actually quite snug although it'll take two hours on the operating table just to locate the body inside it's textile cocoon if I chuck it away again. I've even donned a free hi vis jacket a delivery guy gave me for free at work and feel curiously safer in a smug kind of way...hmm...some sort of safety placebo perhaps. A lot of the traffic turns east at Manjimup onto the 102 towards Albany. I stay on  highway one as it plunges south into the forests and becomes quite narrow and  is mostly signposted at ninety kilometres per hour. There is very little traffic except for oncoming logging trucks, often running wide through the curves, sending me teetering towards the boggy verge and cursing in my helmet. The road is super slippery and with the off road tyres I've been running on Precious since Darwin my concentration through the curves is 

Drrrr...sniff shiver...drrrr...sniff sneeze...

at eleven on a scale of ten. The forests are dark dismal and damp and exude a strong oily odour, almost like a gearbox oil kind of smell. There are occasional glimpses down muddy side tracks of teams of loggers undoing natures work (small greeny type statement) and culling the giant trees in an apparently sustainable way (small tongue in cheek). It would be a beautiful ride in summer and I imagine a lot busier as well but in late July, in the wind and rain, it's just me. After cutting through the ranges before the coast we turn east towards Walpole and the rain sets in even heavier. I stop off for lunch in tiny Walpole hoping the weather might blow over while I demolish a pie and coffee at the bakery. Oddly my cold seems to like the crap weather and diminishes

Wet Walpole

when I'm riding only to return filling my head with goo when I'm trying to get warm and comfy. Voices in my head are arguing over whether I should get a covid test. The voice my mum inserted from day one, you know the one, insists I have to get tested and do the right thing whilst the other one lays out all the easier scenarios...the ones probably responsible for the shit the world's in right now! Aaaargh Ok. I'll mask up and stay away from people till I get tested...maybe Esperance will do. I pile back onto the bike and zoom down the pretty South Coast Highway towards Albany. The sun appears and the brisk Northwesterly helps more than hinders as we now head east. My newly purchased generic cold tablets kick in and the south coast road through Denmark is a ripper. Albany appears all too soon affording me ample time to make a silly wrong decision.  Hmm...it's early afternoon, I'm in a pleasant place with accommodation and maybe a testing clinic, it's freezing, I'm crook, the westerly wind is strengthening and it's still four eighty kilometres to Esperance with very little in between. Yeh nah I'll keep going...wonder which voice said that? 

Listening to BETTER BE HOME SOON Crowded House 1988

Hmm Kiwis or Aussies...arrr near enough to the same thing.

Not sure most people acknowledge the craft and skill 

these guys had as songwriters and performers. Each

song a finely honed gem afloat amongst the flotsam

of discarded pop.

One for the memorable shit ride list!

The road out of Albany rises in a north easterly direction slowly turning north till Jerramungup a couple of hundred kilometres along. Someone alerts Mother Nature that something pale and sick has strayed and she sends her best westerly wind to test the weak. As I zoom out of Albany I start getting blown about straight away. Shit. Fortunately there's plenty of roadside trees and vegetation to break it

The people at the pub here were super 
friendly...it's just kinda hard to figure out
how to book in! Oh yeh, next quiz night 
question, where's Jerramungup!

up a bit and erm, can't last all afternoon can it? After the first one hundred kilometres my neck feels like it's swollen to the size of a F1 driver and I'm totally buggered. Hmm cmon give me a break. Huge chilly westerly gusts are blowing me across the road and I'm acting like an old sailing boat tacking and jibing and beating my way forward. I lower my speed to seventy kilometres an hour just to give me more recovery time should a giant gust blow me in front of an oncoming roadtrain. This of course adds to feeling I'm getting nowhere and joins the long queue of negativity I'm working through as I curse the entire world beginning with my stupid self. There has been a lot of rain along here recently and the sides of the road are often completely under water or chewn up mud just to add to the fun should I veer off. Aaaargh. Thirty kilometres from Jerramungup

I think I'll relax here for a couple of nights 
and get worse...relaxing is overrated!

I'm totally done...I'm stopping and staying there no matter what. I arrive at about three thirty and pull into an old motel next to the servo. I walk around looking for signs of life but it seems totally deserted and I really can't figure if it's still in business. Hmm, and there's a pub next door but I can't tell if that's still open either. Ah crap, no one around and no one to ask. Ok  I'll try the caravan park then. I zoom around to the caravan park and although that seems to be in business, there's no one there either. Shit. There's  no phone service out here so I ring the doorbell off the hook, try emailing them on their own park wifi, even facetime Marianne on the park wifi and then she tries to ring from Adelaide aaaand...nothing. How hard can this be...arrrr what a top day!

OK back to the servo next to the motel...maybe they'll know something. 

"Yeh there'll be someone at the pub after

 five o'clock if ya want a room" 

That night I'm safe and snug in a pretty good cheap room with a comfy pub next door. I decide to spend an extra night optimistically hoping the wind will blow over and my cold will improve. Unfortunately neither happens and my first cold for years worsens, urgh. Two mornings later I set off into the freezing air along the next three hundred kilometres to Esperance.  I've resolved to do the right thing and go straight to the hospital when I arrive and get a covid test. The road after Jerramungup turns easterly again and the wind is once more favorable. My cold clears as soon as I resume riding and I'm pretty much back on my game again as Precious and I wing through the open farmland in southern Western Australia. We arrive at Esperance and it kinda looks like a large version of Victor Harbour. It obviously pumps tourists in the summer time with a beautiful waterfront and

Esperance...a lovely place for a holiday in
the summer. Maybe don't get sick!

 multiple motels and hotels. However at this time of the year it looks pretty deserted, not much going on here. I head straight to the hospital emergency department and zoom straight in through the electric sliding doors...let's get this done. I forget to mask up and the emergency receptionist freaks and dives for cover till I get my mask on and then looks totally dismayed (well as much as you can with a mask on) when I explain I've got cold and would like to get tested. Hmm not a good start. "Do you need a doctor" "No I've just got a bit of a cold and would like a covid test" "There's a phone number on the door you should have rang if you want a swab"  "Er sorry I seem to have missed it" "Ok give me your phone number and please wait outside in the garden till I phone you"  I pass through another sliding door outside into the garden and wait. A misty rain starts to fall and I stomp about miserably sniffing and blowing my nose while awaiting my fate. My phone rings and I'm asked again if I need a doctor. "No it's just a cold" "Ok well do you realise if we test you you will have to self quarantine for at least three or more days while we wait for results?" "Erm I'm alone on a trip back to Adelaide with nowhere to stay, it it possible to speed things up a little or something?" 

" Maybe you would be better off getting tested when you get back to South Australia perhaps" 

"Er Ok...umm thankyou".

Hmm, I walk back out and give Marianne a ring before I leave to let her know I'm still upright but untested. I'm torn...have I made enough of an effort? I dunno, maybe not...the do the right thing voice isn't happy...anyway I'll just keep masking up and distancing I guess. That afternoon I'm back on the bike and knock out the final two hundred kilometres north to Norseman on the edge of the Nullarbor. I shack up in a comfy motel, stay away from people, and book the next night at the border village at the South Aussie border. South Australia...it still seems so far. It's a gonna be a bloody long way tomorrow but once again optimism overrules sense...how long can this wind last anyway?

Listening to BERLIN CHAIR You am I 1994

You am I are a band I know quite well but always struggle

to remember their songs. A huge band in the nineties but I think 

I always remember this song cos of the guy in the film clip 

busting moves wearing a crazy sparkling suit!

Really...an Adelaide sign...at last!

Dobedobedobedobedo...for about an hour and a half!

Ok Ok it's just a servo, I didn't take many photos...I felt like shit...
the weather was shit...the wind was shit...you get the picture!

Null and void on the Nullarbor

I set off east from Norseman in the early dawn into fine misty rain for the first couple of hundred kilometres. The landscape is surprisingly quite wooded for the first hour or so but my mind is locked onto the tarmac strip ahead and just getting this done. I set little mental bites of one hundred kilometres at a time, grit my teeth, and click my mind into neutral. I stop off at Balladonia to refuel and tackle Australia's longest piece of straight road to Caiguna...which is...do be do be do...hmm...a straight road! On through Cocklebiddy and over the Madura Pass the wind steadily strengthens to a nasty northerly steadily sapping my energy. The Madura Pass is quite surprising seemingly rising out of nowhere giving great

The Madura pass suddenly there, suddenly gone,,,
did I really see that?

panoramic views before dropping down onto a different coastal plain. Out between Madura and Mundrabilla, as Precious and I battle a never ending side wind, Precious decides to have a little engine miss now and again...aaaargh not now! Drrrrrrrrbabebadrrrrrr and then nothing for another fifty kilometres and then again. Sooo, with two hundred klometres to go, with hardly any traffic, on one of the most remote plains in the world in a howling cross wind, good old Prec decides to scare the crap out of me...please...maybe fifteen hundred kilometres to complete the lap, hang in there old girl. I find the road at the end of the Western Australian section a bit of a drag.

I'm mentally drained and find the never ending ranges on my left hand side just never seem to end! On and on and on the same as I pass Mundrabilla and press on to Eucla to refuel in the late afternoon. I've filled in my simple South Aussie cross border form the day before but in good old South Aussie fashion, there's no one at the border to check! Of course the Western Australians are hard at work checking vehicles on the other side of the road but South Australia...well we might check you five hundred kilometres further on at Ceduna but if we miss you there, you're good to go! That night I'm so tired I can't even drag myself out to get food. I rummage through my bags and once again a can of good old baked beans comes up trumps and with all fruit I can smash down before the fruit fly inspection point, it's probably the healthiest meal of the trip! 

The South Aussie West Australian border. As long
as you eat all your bananas c'mon in we don't care!

The South Aussie end was pretty good straight away
...look at that blue sky...hmm not for long!

Now c'mon, after droning through the west
and suddenly there's this on the
South Aussie side...welcome home.

Listening to THE DAY YOU WENT AWAY Wendy Mathews 1992

Hauntingly beautiful song from Canadian

 born Aussie Wendy Mathews. Everybody knows

Canadians are Northern Hemisphere Aussies anyway...

or is it the other way round?

Aaah South Australia

The next morning the wind is down and the sun's out. Woo hoo! I've got five hundred kilometres to my brothers house in Ceduna and am keen to get going. Within a couple of kilometres epic views of the coastline appear and I enjoy the ride all the way to Ceduna

Just another couple of fills ole girl. We 
averaged around 19 to 19.5 per litre
of ninety one most days

. I stop off at the Nullarbor Roadhouse which is clean inviting and modern, totally different to when I last visited it some twenty odd years ago. Aside from ridiculous road work signage limiting the speed limit to eighty kilometres an hour for almost a hundred kilometres and the return of heavy rain for the final fifty kilometres it's a much more scenic and enjoyable ride along the Nullarbor on the South Aussie side. I stay at my brothers house for four days recuperating and cleaning myself up. My brother is a superb cook and feeds me up and spoils me rotten. Just having a toilet in the house is still a treat! The cold, the weather, and the long hard kilometres spent on the DR in the past couple of weeks have really worn me down and staying with Ken before I get home is a treat. I decide to ride the coastal route around Port Lincoln on the way home and

My brother Ken's house in Ceduna with 
working internal toilet, heating
 and well stocked fridge!

spend a night in Whyalla before heading home. It's a pleasant ride through light showers down past Streaky Bay and round the bottom of Eyre Peninsular and up to Whyalla. Precious behaves herself perfectly although I'm now a little anxious for her to keep going...we're so close! We leave late on the final day. As we near Port Augusta the beautiful Flinders Ranges loom ahead capped all along with  mid grey cloud banks accentuating dark brooding range. Aaah South Australia.  Port Augusta is a melange of traffic and roadworks and after scabbing a free coffee at a mates house I'm glad to be off. I run down along Spencer Gulf before heading inland at Crystal Brook bound for the beautiful Clare Valley. At Clare I find myself sitting outside Subway on a public bench staring at the ground in deep contemplation.

I'd like to be excited...woo hoo lap done....

buuut can't help thinking...

...that was just bloody hard work! 

Oh well, one hundred and twenty kilometres to go, let's finish this job...

...I'm sure I've got some rose tinted glasses somewhere!

There ya go, 65277 when I left so erm, in my head 
without a calculator...19361? 
Good on ya Precious!

Hey some dishevelled old guy is stealing 
the Maynard's dog...yeh nah looks like
 Deano's home at last!
(No more hi vis after this shot either!)

Listening to IT'S A LONG WAY THERE Little River Band.

Used this heaps on my first blog when I crossed the world on 

Precious along my mate Ron on his DR. Song means a lot to me and always makes me stop and think about that crazy trip across far off lands meeting great people and

 seeing amazing things.

FINAL REALITY CHECK

I guess to put this trip into perspective I have to consider it was made at a time like no other and couldn't really be planned for properly. In the months leading up to my leaving it appeared covid was in check and Australia was extremely stable, none of this covid "D" strain stuff. My late decisions and lack of proper planning beforehand also exacerbated the mess I often found myself in. I kinda counted on "Hey this is Australia, how hard can it be" ...only this time it was hard. I had serious misgivings about the bike along the way. After I left the second time heading towards Broken Hill I stopped on the side of the road about one hundred kilometres along and had a good think about whether I should turn around. She had an unsettling gearbox vibe that didn't bode well for the task ahead. I was wrong. Oddly it either never really got much worse...I swear it's running sweeter now than when I left...bloody thing! Having said that Precious is not something you ride for pleasure. It's a handy tool, like an axe or a shovel or something. It'll sit in the corner of the shed waiting for the next job at hand, always being returned with a few more battle scars from another job well done. Possibly the best all round bike I've ever owned.

Handy tools for chopping, mowing, digging, raking, 

and round the world trips! 

OK so what was worst. 

The worst was the lack of cheap accommodation. Because of covid almost all backpacker hostels and almost any forms of cheap accommodation have evaporated due to the lack of low end tourists. I hadn't figured this and I'm not sure what I could have done even if I had. Also because governments are chucking huge amounts of money at roadworks all over Australia anything cheap or reasonable is mostly sold out to the road workers all over the country. Aaaargh. Having said that I do find crappy motels pretty hilarious, and, we in Australia have some of the worst in the world! Oh dear...but should we pay so much for the "experience" instead of the service? Hmm...most wouldn't. Most camping spots in caravan parks have been turned into van sites to cope with the enormous influx of caravans out on the road leaving only expensive powered site options for tent owners. Sleeping in a tent is cool in perfect conditions but otherwise it sucks and I really wasn't set up for long term off grid camping. (I'm too old and not an imaginative cook...or any sort of cook really)

So what was good. 

Well, standing right at the top tip of Australia was weirdly cool. Absolutely worth it. Sitting in Derby looking at Precious seemingly running better than ever after smashing along the Gibb River road made me smile. Doing the lap of Mount Panorama in my own time to stop and appreciate each corner was something to remember. Winding my way through the back of New South Wales and down Thunderbolts and Buckets way were ticks on the list. Chipping the ice off Precious before leaving Inverell after spending the night trying to sleep above the pub dance floor still makes me smile. Hmm there is a fair bit actually. Erm, the Daly Waters pub...everyone should stop off there and the company of the two lads on the way to the tip gave me stories to tell for life. Staying in the pub at Mount Molloy was pretty good. Of course finally meeting Marianne in Darwin after juggling the covid restrictions was great and pretty lucky considering what's happened since. So plenty really...I like a good yarn and plenty of good and bad ammo for bullshit sessions here....only it'll be true!

Oh and most of all...I've done a lap!

If you get here on a bike...you've earned it!

The day at Adelaide river...amazing!

In ya go Deano...the Gibb River road.

Daly Waters Pub. Unexpected mayhem!

Cool overnight stay in Queensland.

Me and the person who puts up with me!

Would I do it again.

Nah not in this format in this time span on a trail bike again. Hmm, that's the first time I've said that about any of my trips but there you are. I might do it again on a comfy tourer with a big ass windscreen with someone else along to share accommodation costs while sticking to the bitumen...but, I dunno...hmm, nah I'm getting bored just thinking about it. Well really, in Australia you really need your own accommodation and your own way to carry food. We really are way more expensive than anywhere in the world I've travelled and rarely set up for solo or moto travellers. We really aren't a good value bang for your buck destination with all our famous sights along the way sooo far apart separated by sooo much nothing. Probably need twelve months and a bank vault full of money...or two...a Goldwing with a camper trailer perhaps? 

Ah I surrender, it's a country perfectly set up for bloody caravans!

So what next?

I'm sitting here in my shed banging this out surrounded by motorbikes...all erm, mine...and I've spotted another that might come to stay. Some have been apart for years, some should really be sold, some like Precious are in retirement and of course most need time and money thrown at them...bloody things. 

If only they weren't so much fun!

Hmm Would love to go riding in India one day 

but with covid...arr might never happen!

Outside in my driveway lies an old Jayco campervan. It's a clumsy old wind up thing Marianne and I have been trying out to see if it works for us. We've been away a couple of times and had a few laughs in it and even the dog (Marianne's arch enemy) gets to come along. Marianne surprisingly seems to love the flimsy old thing (not me...the van) and new caravan brochures decorate our side board after each caravan and camping show. 

Oddly I'm on board... 

Gonna take a while to get the hang of this...the seat's rubbish
and the handlebars are kinda loose. It does have a fridge and 
somewhere to sleep though....

Yep...a shed full of motorbikes and, a caravan...

..luckily I'm getting oldish...

...maybe more riding and erm, more towing...

 ...and less working perhaps?

Hmm, guess I'll have to brush up on some tips from
 the experts on the ultimate caravan movie! Do 
yourself a favour, watch this hilarious movie.
Lucy and Desi....that's Marianne and I right there!

Last One.

 Listening to WIDE OPEN ROAD The Triffids 1986

Used this song to end my South American blog as well. 

Love the song, it's Aussie, it's cool and it just fits right here perfectly. 

Pull it up, turn it up, and dream your next trip!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7N5akOOlGTI

,

Cheers for all your comments 

and thanks for reading my blog,

Deano

 

Lap Under the Sun