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

THREE THOUSAND DOWN

Listening to WAY OUT WEST Dingoes 1973

 Here's a song where the words still remain

relevant with our mining background today. Love the James Reyne

 and James Blundell version from 1991 that somehow

polishes and improves but remains faithful to 

the original version.

Neil sent me.

I'm sitting on the kerb, legs stretched out, frowning at my phone. I'm next to a walkway leading up to reception at an accommodation centre in Port Hedland. The sun's going down and shadows are lengthening but it's still pretty warm. Precious shares the carpark space in front of me. She's still fully loaded and making metallic tinking noises as she cools after

Ten dollars a night...in a mining town
BARGAIN!

her seven hundred plus kilometre journey today. Folks  clad in mining hi vis and regulation yellow boots say gedday and nod as they file to and from their accommodation in the dozens of self contained caravans behind the reception building. I've just been in and inquired about staying a night in their least expensive room and at two hundred and thirty one dollars it's not even close to my pay scale. Oh oh. I've already done the caravan parks and received the usual "computer says no" answers so now I'm on the phone to Marianne in Adelaide to see if she can find somewhere to stay on her laptop. It's getting pretty desperate. So far nothing under two hundred dollars...shit...a huge country full of nothing and nowhere to

Incubators for hi vis coloured humans!

 sleep. A guy with a couple of little kids stops and asks what I'm up to. I tell him about the trip and my present  accommodation predicament. He smiles and says sometimes the ladies inside forget they're actually running a caravan park and not just mining accommodation. Go round the back and put your tent up anywhere there's grass, then go back inside and say Neil sent you and ten bucks will do....oh and there's a pub about a hundred metres that way when you want dinner...phew...

...saved...for today!

Three thousand down, three thousand across.

I'm in Derby at the top of Western Australia. It's time to complete the lap and go home. Covid is closing in again with three states in lockdown so the plan is to ride as hard as I can to get back to South Australia, hopefully before any more lockdowns trap me in Western Australia.  It's approximately three thousand kilometers down south, and then three thousand east to Adelaide. The riding I'm good with, although Precious is far from the ideal tool for fast long distance riding...

...it's the faffing about with accommodation every day I hate!

Goin Down

Throttle hand steady, at a hundred and five

day after day, mile after mile

red ribbon tarmac, straight as a die

no nothing to see, no feasts for the eye

Sweated my ass off, been chilled to the bone

 hurrying down south, all on my own

wind rain and other shit, I've been through and known

throttle hand steady, takin me home

Dean

I don't do Broome.

I've not wanted to go to Broome since I left. I just don't find touristy places appealing. Every time there's a travel show on the telly blah blah blah Broome...yeh nah. Marianne really wanted to go though and we had a plan to 

Back onto highway one for the rest
of the trip.

meet there but lack of accommodation, flights, and crazy prices dictated we chose Darwin instead. It's only two hundred and twenty kilometres to Broome from Derby so bypassing it would be a no brainer buuuut it's seven sixty to the next town Port Hedland, and if it's windy or...aaah nah I'm going to Port Hedland...I've gotta get serious now and get these kilometres done. I set out early and make my way out of Derby in the early morning mugginess.  Stray dogs, a few local wanderers, and some early bird caravanners are my only companions as I pass the shuttered shops, awakening servo, and the dusty industrial park on the way out of town. My jacket and pants, awaiting the drying airflow of the open road, bond to my skin as today's sweat mixes with the stored product from months of hard riding under the sun. After rejoining highway one I set off southwest just inland from the coast with only a slight headwind to work out the neck muscles. After fueling at Roebuck servo at the Broome turn off there's only one more stop for me at the busy Sandfire Road House. It's a long and boring ride. Definitely one to put your brain in neutral and not look at the clock. The approach to Port Hedland is heralded by a proliferation of super long ore trucks heading in and out of town and...a modern clover leaf highway loop on

Sandfire Roadhouse..a must stop...
or you'll run out of fuel!

the way into town...which is kinda weird way out in the middle of nowhere. I guess both help signify the kind of money going through this place, yep straight out of the ground, onto a boat, ker'ching billions of dollars. That night after finally finding a tent site I eat at the pub by the mining camp. It's an interesting atmosphere. There's an air of confidence and well being throughout the pub and despite sky high prices the money is flowing over the bar at a phenomenal rate. 

Although being the only one not wearing hi vis in the pub I feel quite comfortable and have flashbacks from the scene from the film Red Dog expecting the whole pub to break into a rendition of "Way out West"!  

The next morning I head into town to grab a coffee at the Star Cafe. My mate Terry works here in Hedland as a train driver FIFO and has recommended it so I give it a run. It's located in an old railway carriage set in gardens in the old part of town and definitely worth a look. While I'm there I check out the ships in the port waiting to be loaded and am amused to see a Chinese vessel near the shore called the "Trust Shanghai"!  

Hmm...well I guess they pay their bills...lucky for us!

Star cafe Port Hedland

Trust Shangai.  Erm, do we get a choice?

Port Hedland. More ker'ching on the way to China!

If you get bored or have lots of time you can
spice up your day and pass one of these on a DR650!

Listening to HELP John Farnham 1980

OK it's a Beatles song, but John belts this one out of the park.

So one our greatest singers, sings one of the 

best songs from one of the greatest bands. 

Can't go wrong really!

Karratha on down.

There used to be a silly thing called pole sitting that originated way back in the nineteen twenties. It was a test of endurance and involved sitting on a chair way up at the top of a pole for the longest possible time. I seem to remember it still popping up in 

Oh look...some hills!

the seventies and eighties as a bit of a stunt as well. Sorry...but this is what comes to mind when travelling down the west coast part of highway one. Oh dear, I will get pummelled by locals and caravanners and touristy types here but...it's a long long stretch...of not much. It's pole sitting with a throttle! Drrrrr, oh look some bushes... drrrr, oh look some mounds of dirt...drrrr, oh look a river...yawn...yeh arrrm wide open spaces tick are we there yet? Sure there's bits with interesting land formations and wild flowers along the road buuuut...I'm thinking the hundreds of kilometres of nothing are helping to make these look pretty good!

 Now, there's a few places to turn off and look at like Eighty Mile Beach and Monkey Mia and other bits but in the words of the Little River Band...

...it's a long way there. 

For the next few days I keep Precious pinned and heading down the coast. The wind is a constant Westerly or South Westerly and the weather is pleasant mid

The Dampier motel. I whinged about the 
price to someone from WA and he 
thought it was cheap! Ah mining prices.

twenties. I stay at the Port of Dampier after finding Karratha way too windy for camping and way too expensive for a motel. Karratha appears very modern with lots of new houses but I found the town centre to be a bit cold and soulless. The next day it's a big day of pole sitting all the way to Carnarvon which is a lovely little town. I finally score a cheap room in the caravan park and take an extra night to give Precious her last oil change before home. OK...a dilemma. The good weather is about to end. Aaaaargh. When you get round the curve half way down the west coast of Australia the weather turns to shit...dramatically! I'm sitting in my room in Carnarvon watching telly and

The port of Dampier is quite exotic looking.

 Western Australia is about to be hit with it's biggest storm this winter...in the wettest July this winter...all just a few hundred kilometres down the road. Hmm can't wait it out as the seven day forecast shows no improvement in the near future...so no dilemma really, just gotta jump in...

...so here we go....

...winter is coming...again!

Geraldton is the next major centre down but when I do a bit of an accommodation scan on the computer it's kinda pricey. I figure I'll see how I go but plan to keep going as long as I can every day and with every extra couple of

Look who's turned eighty!
Better get her an Astra Zeneca shot!

hundred kilometres travelled every day will hopefully be a day less on the road down the track. As you approach Geraldton the landscape slowly changes...obviously it rains here! Crops start appearing, there's trees, houses and towns...all the stuff that water brings to make humans prosper really. The clouds close in and the temperature begins to drop as I pass through Geraldton which appears to be a pretty big place. There's traffic lights, freeway quality roads and lots of traffic which flag the 'keep going too complicated' signal in me. I zoom through and hit the GPS lodging search which has been a bit of a failure so far. It finds a motel at a place called Cataby and I make up my mind, well, it's freezing and about to rain, so no matter what it's like I'll just pay and go

Hmm, wonder if there's a tropic of Pisces?

 with it. Hmm...it's called Glassy's Hat Hotel. I finally arrive as it's getting dark...well, it's erm, rustic. A hundred bucks but I'll pay just to get some warmth. The girl in the pub is lovely and I grab the key and head to my room in the middle of the line about fifty metres from highway one. Open the door and it's wall to wall woodgrain...no really...whole woodgrain walls! Eek. Ok....there's an air conditioner but no heater...look in the cupboards aaaargh no heater anywhere. Hmmm. Ok let's jump in the shower and warm up. Yep awesome hot water pressure, aaaah warmth at last...doo be doo be dooo....hmm...the water's seems a bit deep...aaah !@#$k the drain's blocked. In my haste to jump in I've chucked all my

Bring your own plumbing tools!

 clothes on the floor...my only warm clothes that is...which is now awash with water from the blocked drain. For  @#$%s sake. Shit...OK bathers and singlet on, out the front door in the freezing cold and back to the bar...which is now filled with hi vis clad road workers. Er, the drain in my shower's blocked. "Well the cleaner didn't say anything" Huh, not sure what you mean. "Well if it was blocked the cleaner would have noticed". ....(long silence with bad body language)..."OK here's the key to no. 3, try that one."  I walk back half naked through the road workers, drag all my gear into no.3 and try the shower. Hmmm, the drain looks suspiciously like it's in line with the old no.4 drain. I hit the taps and find it's got about half the pressure of the first shower giving the drain just enough time to do it's job while hardly getting me wet...aaargh oh dear !@3k it I give up. The next morning after a freezing night with all my clothes on in bed I find a heater in the back of the cupboard next to the telly. Good one Deano

Winter is coming...again.

Listening to BABY PLEASE DON'T GO ACDC 1975

Really interesting song first recorded in 1935 by Big Joe Williams.

Been done a zillion times by everybody but none come close to 

 the kick ass ACDC version with Bon Scott!

Perth and Bridgetown

The next day I set off in cold and clear conditions to Perth. Normally I would avoid cities like the plague but I have a couple of trade customers who have become friends over the years that I want to meet and put faces to. I have known these people for nearly twenty years so I've got to do it! I plot their addresses on the GPS and

Amazing rainbow on the way out of 
Perth...photo just not doin it!

 set sail. The ride from Cataby to Perth is extremely pleasant reminding me a lot of the farmland on the way to the Clare Valley where I was brought up. A cold sun highlights the vivid yellow canola crops and misty countryside as I zoom along and my heated grips remain flat out keeping my pinkies warm.  The moment I hit Perth it starts to bucket with rain...great! I hate cities...I hate the cold...I hate rain...and I've never been here before. To be honest, motoring through Perth was dead easy. I found the network of freeways they have there seemed to work extremely well with the route I was following. Unfortunately it rained and rained negating any decent

Something I might be able to afford 
at mining town prices perhaps?

photographic evidence of my visit. At one point I peered through the rain and traffic to find I was going over the Swann River, one of the more scenic parts of Perth...but ah well not today...another time perhaps. After surprising and catching up with my buddies I hit the freeway out of town towards Bunbury. I'm gonna keep on highway one and find a motel out of town for the night..hopefully a better one! The showers of rain keep coming interspersed with clear sunny periods. I turn inland at Bunbury happy with how easy it has been to get out of town and get some kilometres under my belt. As usual I keep going a little too long and finally end up at a town call Bridgetown. This is a pretty place with lots of touristy historic looking buildings. Marianne would like this kind of place to wander about and explore...but now it's winter, and 

The mighty Freemasons Pub. Cold on the 
outside, warm on the inside!

freezing and dripping everywhere. It's getting late so I do a lap of the long main street and park up. I stomp into the first big pub and ask about rooms. Aaaand they're a bit pricey, but to their credit (or just to get rid of me) they recommend the Freemasons Hotel across the street. The barmaid there shows me a room, I waver for a moment, she drops the price and I'm in. That night I'm snug in a nice warm room above the bar in a classic hotel in  one of the colder parts of Western Australia. To be honest though, I'm pretty worn out from the constant days on the road and starting to feel a bit old. Hmm. Tomorrow I'll be on the road early again to hit the bottom of Australia and turn east towards home. I really hope the constant bad weather cycle breaks and eases before I cross the bite...Great Australian one that is!

REALITY CHECK

On the way to Port Hedland I lifted my visor to scratch my nose and got hit by some sort of huge squishy bug. Splot, right into my glasses on the right hand side exploding and depositing yellow crap all over my eye and face. Yech. I stop and clean it all up with a wet ones wipe and keep going. Fixed sorted.That night my right eye

So what are the odds, of lifting your visor,
getting hit at that precise moment,
with a bug carrying a gallon of infectious
yellow crap?

 becomes infected with something grotesque and glues itself shut...oh oh..here we go. I clean her up in the shower that morning and keep going, she'll be right. I can still see a bit and I've got the other eye as a spare. Of course Marianne lectures me on going to the chemist and getting blah blah so of course I don't and, you know, it slowly gets better. As it gets better though I then get some !@#$en throat infection...!@#$K me...which turns into a chest thingo...aaaargh...I've got kilometres to do here piss off. 

So here we are.

 The bike's got fresh oil and tyres to go the distance and although she's now over eighty she's a pretty spritely eighty...

...but the rider, weeell, I'm a bit knackered. It's gonna be a tough three thousand kilometres to home in the rain and notorious Nullarbor wind...

Listening to 

MOST PEOPLE I KNOW THINK THAT I'M CRAZY

Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs 1972

Billy Thorpe died early, but anyone who saw

him perform had to know that someone who performs

with that much intensity could not but 

flame out early. Turn it up!

NEXT BLOG...LAST ONE!

BACK ACROSS THE NULLARBOR TO HOME

 C'MON PRECIOUS JUST THREE THOUSAND MORE!

MANY THANKS FOR YOUR COMMENTS. 

ANY HOME CONJUNCTIVITIS REMEDIES USING ANY OF THE FOLLOWING INGREDIENTS, MUESLI BARS, PANADOL, 20\50 MOTOR OIL, CHAIN LUBE, APPLES, SNICKERS BARS, SOAP, DEODORANT OR TOOTHPASTE WILL BE GREATLY APPRECIATED!

CHEERS DEAN

LAP UNDER THE SUN