Listening to FRIDAY ON MY MIND the Easybeats 1966
Evergreen hit written by Harry Vanda and George Young.
Has been covered many many times, even by David Bowie.
My fave version after the original is the rocking
version by Gary Moore.
Which way ya headed?
F!@#k it's cold. My frozen gloved hand fumbles around behind the GPS looking for the the bloody key before finally thumbing the starter. Drrr Drrrr..rr...r. The crank spins in cold oil, finds spark fuel and comp in the right places, and surrenders to physics of gas expansion. Duff duff duff. My foot bangs through the sticky clutch into first gear, and we lurch forward trowelling through deep gravel towards the park gate. The frosty air assaults my cheeks as I snick into second and swipe at my nose as a line of snot teams with the cold and gravitates sideways. Main street slides by in the frosty grey dawn, a damp blur of boarded windows, sagging guttering and graffitied doors.
This tiny town is not so much asleep as dead.
A lot are. Long closed shops, dilapidated houses, faded signs, struggling pub. An abandoned dried out historical husk, its soul long surrendered to a huge franchised van park and do it all multinational fuel supplier. At the entrance to town idling RVs and vans stretch out of the servo and down the highway, patiently awaiting their turn at exchanging electronic revenue for oily fuel. Boomers in faded Pink Floyd t-shirts and misshaped trackies mill about in the servo soaking up the warmth, thumbing phones, and draining weak lattes in brown takeaway cups. Production line twenty dollar hamburgers and buckets of chips flow from the well organised team of multicultural workers working oily hot plates and fat spitting fryers. I manage to jump the line as the ninety one pump stands cold and free, its refined goodness of no interest to the line of oil burners stretching down the road. My turn at the checkout arrives and my cold hands fumble about with the bloody credit card...f~!@k sake, does it go on the top or the side or the back or swipe...nah nah never have to swipe...aarr it's always different. As I feebly wave the card at the machine the tired looking middle aged lady working the till attempts an understanding smile with one eye on the growing line behind me. A bunch of faded Andre Rieu CDs decorate the counter next to her, curiously predating the slick modern money making operation going on around them. Hmm odd...wonder if Lara's Theme from Doctor Zhivago is on there...it crosses my mind to ask the till lady if it is just piss her off but then most of the people waiting behind me will either kill me or...actually know the answer!
Out the door into the freezing cold, ear plugs in, helmet on, gloves on, and....
"Which way ya headed mate?"
Hmm. The old boy in front of me seems to predate the ACDC Pink Floyd t-shirt boomer period. He's sporting a light green Lacoste polo shirt with white horizontal stripes and rocking an enormous pair of oversize cargo shorts pulled right up...shirt tucked in neatly of course. This outfit, including some sort of velcro secured sandals with no socks demands my shivering respect in this cold. Wow.
Aaaaarr not sure mate. South Australia's still shut and Western Australia's still shut...
...when I get to Three Ways I'll toss a coin I think....
He laughs, shakes his head and then fixes me with a serious stare...
"Watch out if your going that way mate.
You'd better rug up.
It starts to get really cold towards the centre!"
Listening to THESE DAYS Powderfinger 1999
Triple J chart topper and 2000 song of the year.
C'mon it makes you want to wave your arms and
sing along pretending you know the words!
Day by day
Two hundred k in two fifty to go
another dusty camp with no one you know
fifty buck donga shared shower and loo
piss off at dawn another five hundred to do
Dean
Seven hundred kilometres to make up my mind.
Gotta go. Five days in Cloncurry and I've...really gotta go. Buuut...so many variables. South Australia shut. Western Australia shut. New South Wales and
Queensland still recording new cases of covid behind me. Darwin and Alice Springs just opened but with at least another week of restrictions...although the Northern Territory should let me in...hopefully. Accommodation in Mount Isa up ahead crazy prices or non existent and tiny Camooweal under seige from vanners and people figuring their next move near the border. Hmm, and every vanner tells me Tennant Creek and other places towards the South Australian border can be unpleasant if I get stuck for a long term stay so erm, not keen to get stuck that way. Well, I don't have to make a decision until the Three Ways intersection on the Barkly and Stuart Highways, some seven hundred and fifty kilometres away, so let's fire up the DR and save my sanity!
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| Last day in the unit at the back of the van park in Cloncurry. Lovely people but I gotta go...now! |
Hopefully by the time I get there the world will turn
and sort an answer for me.
Mt Isa.
Sooo good to be moving again, even for a short hundred and thirty kilometres or so. The road from Cloncurry to Mount Isa is a beauty. The perfectly surfaced road
winds up and down through undulating big rock scenery and Mount Isa appears far to soon. Along the way I attract the attention of the highway constabulary who u turn and follow me for twenty kilometres or so obviously unaware how hard a fully loaded DR has to work just to crack the speed limit! I stop off at the Burke and Wills memorial along the way and chat to a young couple who have travelled all the way from Perth to pick up a new caravan and are now heading back...now that's thinking outside the square and even outside the state just to get what you want! On the approach Mount Isa you are greeted with enormous smoking chimneys...maybe not the best look in this global warming age! I zoom into the centre of town and spot a small Suzuki dealership. Hmm, as I'm not sure what I'm doing I decide to grab some oil and do a quick change. The people at the dealership are great, "Yeh no worries, do it in the driveway, we'll give you a container and oil out of the drum". So I do, and an hour
later I'm back in the local Maccas looking for somewhere to sleep using the phone, oil change sorted. Mount Isa has some seriously seedy motels...whoa...people sleep in there? And nothing less than a hundred and twenty bucks...aaaah nah, so back out to to the big franchised caravan park on the edge of town. Oh dear, thirty five bucks for a square of grass and back in the tent for another night. That night it gets really cold...really cold! The following morning a family in a camper nearby bring me a cuppa in sympathy as I'm packing up. A cold stiff wind springs up and due to the plethora of children in the park I demonstrate mature patience and calm trying to get the flapping !@#$%ing tent folded and back in it's !@#ing tiny little bag before I can !@#$ing leave...sorry...aaaah camping.
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| Welcome to Mount Isa |
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| When you see what these guys went through, I shouldn't whinge about the tent! |
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| Thirty five dollars for my own patch of grass. |
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| The rest of the park was super busy as usual. |
Listening to RIDE ON ACDC 1976
ACDC sings the blues...Aussie style
Bon sings from the heart and Angus rips on the lead.
As it should be.
Camooweal
It's a couple of hundred kilometres to the Northern Territory border. What to do. I fill in the online cross border form thinking I might get to Barkly
Homestead today, two hundred odd kilometres inside Northern Territory. A freezing cross wind hounds me as I head back into Mount Isa from the park to fuel up. I'm not savouring another frosty night in the tent so I jump on the phone (handy things) and surprisingly score a pub room at Camooweal which is just before the border. I set off in better spirits finally on a mini plan. I'm gonna ride two or three hours, stop at a pub, and there will be a warm bed and food for me, what can go wrong? Once you leave Mount Isa you know you're in Australia, yep, its big, it's red, and there's nothing much out there. Fortunately my brain has a big
neutral slot in it's gearbox and I can often go all day without thinking too much. Cue Hoodoo Gurus 'A thousand miles away'. The cold cross wind belies the clear sunny skies and constantly pushes me into the path of multi trailered road trains and swaying caravans. Its cold fingers probe at the the holes in my tattered jacket, prying at my taped repairs and sending chills up my arm. I roll into Camooweal and pull up outside the big verandaed, tin roofed Aussie style pub. There's a van park behind it and a big Puma servo near the edge of town aaaand not much else going on. The Publican is pretty stressed and lets me know there's no meals tonight as he flips me the key. A cheese and bacon pie in the warmer on the bar wins my five bucks and I settle in for a yarn with one of the
locals. Seems the pub is struggling to get staff since the backpackers dried up due to covid, working the owners to the limit, and losing business to the servo down the road. I grab my gear and head to the room, open the door, and...shit it's cold in here...seems to be a breeze from somewhere...maybe through the gap around the ancient air conditioner, brrr. Hmm, tiny room, usual towel on the bed, no blankets just a thin quilt...wee telly...no wifi...no phone...showers and dunny down a super noisy wooden hall and...no heating...aaargh! That night I pile all my bike gear and towels on the bed and wear my long johns to keep out the cold. Packing the bike the next morning I spy my sleeping bag still packed snugly in the right pannier,
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| Classic pub at Camooweal. |
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| Along Camooweal main street. |
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| Um, I think that's a milk cow. Surely you can't eat Daisy! |
...aaah good one genius!
Bouncing off the border and Tennant Creek.
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| Yer date's wrong, you'll have to go back to town and do it again...!@#z woo hoo... |
It's twelve frosty kilometres to the border. I fuel up and set off, cold sun on my back, rueing my decision to post my warm gloves and jacket liner back home from Queensland. The cross wind is kinda crossish tailish which bodes well if the day warms up. It's a couple of hundred kilometres to Barkly Homestead and five hundredish to Tennant Creek. Plan is, shit ride with the wind, Barkly Homestead, or good ride, Tennant Creek. The border looms with only a short line of vehicles waiting to have their border passes checked. A young officer checks mine on the phone and shakes his head "you'll have to go back to town and do it again". "You filled the date in for yesterday". Shit. The form says it's good for seven days but not here today. I offer there's no phone or wifi in town to be had
but am informed that all the people he sends back are able to use free wifi at the servo. Of course...the new heart of the town. Aaaaaaaar OK. My fault. I turn the bike and retrace the twelve kilometres against the frosty wind. I successfully attempt the world record on EPM (expletives per minute) and soon join several others in the servo thumbing their phones in deep concentration. Don't mess it up...another twelve kilometres back to the border and the line up now stretches back along the highway just to rub it in. Show the phone, all good, into gear, on the throttle and out into...nothing. Wow. So flat, so wide...clear unimpeded vision in every direction and a sense of being so small and so unimportant against this backdrop of hugeness. With the wind so slightly on my tail I flash across Australia feeling alone and slightly vulnerable...
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| Look closely, yep one hunfred and thirty kilometres an hour. Hmm. No good for the poor old DR unfortunately, even with a tail wind! |
...hang in there today DR, long way to
walk if you shit yourself.
Barkly Homestead is another clever outpost meeting the needs of most travellers. Classic farmhouse restaurant with the usual greasy staples, coffee, free wifi, clean
toilets, accommodation and a long line up at the diesel pumps. A veritable oasis. As the day slowly warms the DR and I dig the tail wind and Tennant Creek is in our sights. Marianne has cancelled her holiday plans for visiting Darwin so I'm thinking of heading home to spend the rest of her holidays with her. With South Australia still shut though, I'm not keen on having to hang around too long anywhere north of the border. I approach the intersection of the Barkly and Stuart Highways, take a deep breath, and turn towards Tennant Creek.
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| Barkly Homestead. Recipe - give people what they want - make money -simple! |
Hmm still no solid decision.
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| Aaaaar which way? |
To be honest, I also found the maelstrom of flashing blue lights, idle groups of people, and visible crude security measures on Tennant Creek main street unsettling as well. I do a loop of main street soaking up the vibe before turning at the bank and heading back out to the edge of town. I pull up at the Gday caravan park and wander into the office. Hmm looks good, and they have food and beer as well, I'm in! The staff are great and I even splash out a little and get a unit with...a toilet. It's the first time in five weeks I've had my own toilet...oh yeh! The park appears to be somewhat of an outpost on the edge of town with its own well stocked store, petrol, pizzas and even a country singer to entertain the caravanners after dinner.
Hmm. No reason to head back into town perhaps?
Listening to SOLID ROCK Goanna 1982
Great Aussie song From the Spirit of Place album which I still have.
Early attempt to highlight issues of land rights.
To be honest I listened to the song a million times
back then and didn't comprehend the vibe.
Times change.
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| This would be a another boring room pic but ...I'm standing in my own bathroom to take it! Woo Hoo! |
Heading north while waiting for the west.
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| Overland telegraph monument. Completed in 1872 reduced time for news from the UK from forty days to one! |
I have no reason to visit Darwin now that Marianne has cancelled her visit. With no borders open I decide to head north, hoping Western Australia relaxes it's border restrictions...soon please! If they do, I'd love to turn west at Katherine and head straight to Kununurra just inside the Western Australian border and cut out Darwin all together. The rumour mill amongst fellow travellers is tipping the tenth or eleventh for the border to open. Hmm, plan happening buuut once again a rubber spanner flies into works. The new rear tyre I fitted at Cairns and hoped might last to Perth ain't gonna do it. Crap. Less than three thousand kilometres on it and it looks half to three quarters shagged..aaaand it's four thousand plus to Perth. The front one has eleven thousand on it and should at least get to Perth but it's time to go rear tyre shopping. I zoom out some emails to towns ahead and only find a front at Katherine so, Darwin, here we come...surely they'll have a rear tyre? I select the trusty fingers crossed method for availability and factor in the extra six hundred kilometres up to Darwin and back to Katherine.
The extra time will hopefully allow the borders to reopen and Precious will have flash new boots to conquer the west...plan sorted!
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| It's been quiet and boring all day...what could possibly change? |
It's about four hundred kilometres to Daly Waters which augers for an easy day on the DR. The daily wind prevails but is now a southerly providing a pleasant tail
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| Time to park up and head in. |
...bam, I enter some sort of weird ass
Mad Max movie set!
Vans and 4wds queue at fuel pumps or idle about looking for van sites stirring dust clouds in the mid afternoon heat. Kids parents and boomers duck in and out of the dust and traffic, crossing between the pub, van park, and the line up of oddities on display across the road. A line up of old wrecked aeroplanes, cars, a motor museum with operating fuel pumps, and even a crocodile in an enclosure line the
road opposite the pub. The pub is the hub for everything, van park, petrol, entertainment, food, accommodation, all handled from the front bar. I park up right outside the entrance in the afternoon heat and wander in. Wow. The interior is a combination of organised chaos and a colourful visual assault. So much crap hangs from the roof and lines the walls it all melds into a weirdass visually blurring mosaic of the truly odd, all left by passing travellers over the years. The youngsters manning (peopling?) the bar demonstrate supreme patience attempting to sort the dozens of customers. I score a free beer as my room key is missing and I settle out front in the shade to people watch and chat with some other motorcycle riders staying there. This is a crazy place...cool but crazy! When the room key arrives I find the room hasn't been cleaned...hmm, ah what the hell, only one bed has been used so I commandeer the unused double and grab my gear. Easier 
than diving back into the front bar chaos. That night the pub turns on free entertainment for the dozens of punters with a couple of country singers attempting all requests...with mixed results...probably should have left April Sun in Cuba alone. The bar pumps out the usual pub meals including it's famous beef and barra and the dining area reverberates with a pleasant vibe. My uncleaned room is pretty rough, and the one tired bathroom is way over shared between a lot of people but wow, the whole place is quite an experience! The next morning I fuel up at the unmanned pump at the museum, take a photo of how much fuel I use, walk back to the bar and show the bar person, pay and leave! As I ride off back onto the Stuart Highway and head towards Katherine my brain is still disassembling the whole Daly Waters thing...
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| Everything happens at the pub, got it, everything! |
...errrm wow, that was different!
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| The entrance to the motor museum. Yep that's an old helicopter on the verandah! |
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| Organised chaos or chaotic organisation? |
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| Not sure if all the crap is on the walls or if it is the actual walls! |
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| Free night time entertainment...maybe stick to Dolly and Kenny and leave Jimmy and Dragon be! |
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| Of course they have a live crocodile...it's a circus! |
I think the owner is still waiting to get his room cleaned!
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| Maybe this happened to me..... |
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| The museum is like a miniature Australian version of the Wheels in Time museum in North Carolina. Very well done. |
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| Cool. |
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| Fill up, take a photo, go pay. Lucky I got a phone! |
Whilst in Daly Waters I give Marianne a ring to check in and my daughter Kim answers her phone " mum can't answer, we're at the travel agent and mum's rebooking her trip". Hmm. Kim's never been good with secrets and this one's over. Awesome! So the original plan is kinda back on the rails. I've gotta be in Darwin in three days and I'm going from tent to luxury hotel for a week...with a nice clean unshared toilet...free breakfast... silent air conditioning...clean bed...view of the water...free white fluffy slippers...laundry...and no dust or caravans.
Thumb the starter let's go!
I zoom the two eighty kilometres to Katherine and visit the local Honda dealer looking for tyres. They have a Heidenau front tyre which will get me back to Adelaide no probs but unfortunately no rear. I really really need a rear but with bird in the hand logic I grab the front anyway. Plan is another night in a van park donga (tiny tin box unit with no amenities) in the Katherine Caravan Park, then two nights in a really cheap donga (oh oh) on the outskirts of Darwin while looking for a rear tyre, and then step into luxury with Marianne for the next seven nights, woo hoo, where's my free slippers!
Listening to HOLY GRAIL Hunters and Collectors 1992
Fantastic Aussie anthem defined by the distinctive voice
of Mark Seymour. Often used as a fitting anthem by
the AFL around premiership time.
REALITY CHECK
So the world has turned as I'd hoped. Both South Australia and Western Australia have reopened their borders for the moment. Woo hoo! Marianne is coming to Darwin so our first holiday together for two years is a happening thing and I can continue west later. Precious is hanging in there. I keep away from using her vocal third gear too much and she's touchy with different fuels. She seems to like the non aromic 91 fuel they have here in the NT but for some reason hates their ninety five. She definitely wobbles a lot more fully loaded than when we left making off road forays a bit sketchy. Maybe the rear shock is tiring...hopefully no frame cracks. Hmm, maybe seven or eight thousand kilometres to go. I figure I'll need to keep two weeks in hand before I go back to work in case i have to quarantine when I get home. This tightens things up so I'll just have to keep plugging without wasting too much time...which suits me!
NEXT BLOG
SORRY MIGHT BE TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE NEXT BLOG AS I'M NOT SCHEDULED TO BE BACK ON THE ROAD TILL NEXT WEEKEND AND ERM...TRIP STUFF APPARENTLY NOT ALLOWED THIS WEEK!
THANKS FOR ALL THE COMMENTS LAST WEEK. EXTREMELY TIMELY FOR WHAT WAS A LONG WEEK ON THE ROAD. APOLOGIES AS
IT'S KINDA HARD TO FIND INTERESTING PHOTOS AT THE MOMENT...
LOTS OF STRAIGHT ROAD AND CARAVANS...
...AND LOTS OF STRAIGHT ROAD AND CARAVANS!
CHEERS DEAN
