Thursday, September 7th - after departing Vancouver International on Air Canada Flight 35, my wife Mary and I arrived at Brisbane International following a 13+ hour flight aboard one of Boeing's impressive 787 Dreamliners, a large passenger jet that flew the entire 12,000+ kilometre stretch without re-fueling.
After a long but uneventful flight which for me included taking in three movies on the in-flight entertainment system, we arrived at Brisbane airport where the plane's carry-on luggage compartments - and collaterally, its passengers - were subjected to a mandatory onboard de-fumigation process using an allegedly-harmless-to-humans insecticide.
We picked up our luggage at the carousel and muddled our way through the Airport's automated but nonetheless clunky immigration and customs control systems, which were rendered even more convoluted by the typical bad signage in airports and the slow processing speeds of our sleep-deprived, jet-lagged brains.
On emerging from this process I managed to reach by phone Christine, the local Bike Round Oz (BRO) rep from whom the Gang of Four will collect our rented BMW motorcycles eleven days hence. She cheerfully agreed to store my large green dry bag and heavy riding jacket at the BRO depot situated at her home in the southeastern suburbs of Brisbane.
Mary and I bought tap-on/tap-off GoCards for use on the local Brisbane Translink system, hopped the train for the City, then made a remarkably easy switch to the Cleveland line to take us out to the BRO depot in Alexandra Hills. Upon arriving Wellington Station, the young female attendant helpfully called a cab which drove us the 3.2 kms out to the BRO depot where I dropped off my bag and jacket, then rejoined the cab for the ride back to the Station where we caught a returning train back into the City.
At Park Road Station, we switched to the the Gold Coast line and made our way down to Nerang Station, which is the main jumping off point for transit into Gold Coast proper. We took a frigid 745 bus and then a short taxi ride to the San Mateo Apartments in the north end of Broadbeach District, and with the aid of a remote attendant removed the key from the lock box then made our way up to our third floor room, which turned out to be a smart-looking, well-appointed one-bedroom apartment overlooking Old Burleigh Road.
After showering up, we doubled back by foot along Old Burleigh Road, strolling along the seaside promenade, admired the green parrots and other large indigenous birds in the local parks, then stopped in at the Kurrawa Surf Life Saving Club where we enjoyed a late lunch (they called it a "snack", but the serving size was voluminous!). After our lunch spent overlooking the beach, we made our way across the street to the Oasis Mall where we bought mainly seafood items like lobster and prawns at the local "Woolies" (Woolworths). We also picked up three bottles of wine.
We carried all these items back up the 20-minute walk along Old Burleigh to the San Mateo, put them in the fridge, decided we were both dead tired, and against all advice for how to deal with jet lag, went to bed where we both fell into a long, deep, unrelenting sleep. It was 5:30 pm local time. 12,000+ kms, by air, train, bus, cab and foot.
Friday, September 8th - consistent with our battle against jet lag, Mary and I awoke early around 4:00 am to the melodious sounds of one or more tropical birds singing their morning ritual. The complexity of their song was unlike anything we had heard before, and the idea that this phenomenon could be produced by nature brought joy to my heart. At the same time, the notes seemed to come from a minor scale, making the song a tad melancholy.
After the reception desk opened, we formally booked into the San Mateo just after 9:00 am and, importantly, secured instructions on how to sign up for the paid Internet offered by a third party. For $15.00, we picked up one gigabyte of data use over three days. In the several hours it had been that we lacked effective access it became abundantly clear just how dependent we had become on the Internet - for news, correspondence, maps, tourist information, blogging, etc.
We spent the morning catching up on the news, phoning or corresponding with friends and family, and dealing with a few business matters. We then booked a local canal tour for the following day, threw some burgers on the grill by the pool - an unusual, smooth-surfaced, stainless steel "Barbie" made in Australia - consumed our lunch and headed off to central Broadbeach in search of the Dessert Art Centre - only to find it closed and vacant.
In consolation, we wandered around the core for a spell admiring the many fine bars and eateries, stopped in at Woolies to pick up some more essentials, including coffee, then made our way back to the Kurrawa Surf Club where we each enjoyed a local brew on the balcony while watching the passersby below, the activities of the beach patrol, and the distant surfers.
Returned along the promenade to the San Mateo where we enjoyed a lobster and prawn dinner, read briefly and, still weathering the effects of jet lag, fell asleep at 8:00 pm looking forward to our canal cruise in the morning. 3 kms, by foot.
Saturday, September 9th - we awoke at 4:30 am, read for a spell, then fell back to sleep until the alarm went off at 7:30 am. Had breakfast comprising scrambled eggs, prawns and some baguette, then headed out north by foot to Wyndham Cruises 2.5 kms away in Surfer's Paradise.
I had reasonably high expectations for the canal cruise and wasn't disappointed. The Gold Coast is impressive in multiple dimensions, including the the beautiful sandy beaches, the formidable array of high rises, the surprisingly good quality of the public infrastructure, and the genial and accommodating nature of the inhabitants. All these things were reflected in the cruise.
Evidently, the Gold Coast has more canals than Copenhagen and Venice put together, and our voyage along the Nerang River provided some insight into this actuality. The canal areas are also clearly upmarket, with innumerable high end residences including a vacant building lot that recently sold for AU$9.2 million, which is definitely not in my league. In fact, I couldn't help but reflect on the fact that the closest I'll ever get to that AU$9.2M building lot is by being on the Wyndham cruise I was currently enjoying!
We left the cruise at the foot of Cavill Avenue and made our way a few blocks east to "The Esplanade", immediately adjacent to Surfer's Paradise, the renowned beach and surfing area. Walking along the Esplanade and seeing the professional lifeguards on duty, one thing finally became clear to me: professional lifeguards are to Australia what professional lumberjacks or lacrosse and hockey players are to Canada. They are a cultural phenom!
In fact, during our lunch at the Surfer's Paradise Surf Club on the Esplanade, while I was ordering lunch at the kitchen, Mary briefly conversed with a 75 year-old professional lifeguard who had recently re-certified to stay in the game. She stated that he was in "great shape", and so even though I am 14 years his junior, I nevertheless felt a brief pang of jealousy, figuring that he may have been trying to hit on her!
After enjoying dark ales and our shared $10 fish and chips meal at the Surf Club, we continued our walk down the Esplanade and eventually opted to take the light rail system back to the San Mateo, passing by the formidable Q1, the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere, en route.
Ensconced back in the San Mateo, we took a nap, made up some burgers and prawns for dinner, watched some rugby and Australian rules football on the telly, and went to bed looking forward to traveling back to Brisbane in the morning. 8 kms, most by foot, part by light rail.
Sunday, September 10th - still feeling the effects of jet lag, Mary and I woke up early (before 6:00 am) and finished off the last of the eggs and prawns for breakfast on the patio of our 3rd floor suite at the San Mateo. Shortly before 10:00 am we quit the Apartments and walked a few blocks to the northwest to catch the light rail line 2.5 kms down to the Broadbeach South Station, where we picked up the 745 bus to ride the 11 kms or so to Nerang Station.
There we caught the Brisbane Airport/Gold Coast rail line to the Fortitude Valley Station back in Brisbane, a distance of 73 kms, and commenced the 1.5 kms walk to our hotel, the Oakwood, adjacent to the Story Bridge - named in honour of a prominent Queensland public servant! En route we stopped and dined al fresco at the Monk & Grind on Barry Parade where I ordered the lunch special, a very commendable $8 cheese and bacon burger.
We checked into our 8th floor suite at the Oakwood Hotel and Apartments where we discovered that it offered some amazing vistas overlooking the Brisbane River far below, the impressive towers of downtown Brisbane to the west, and the very nearby Story Bridge, which at dusk was lit up with hundreds of bright, neon-pink lights.
Flagging by mid-afternoon, we both napped, falling asleep while admiring the Brisbane River and environs through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our apartment bedroom. We awoke at 5:30 pm and decided to make our way the 1.5 kms to the Queen Street pedestrian mall in the CBD, in search of some Moreton Bay Bugs, a renowned local delicacy. These we found at the Pig and Whistle, an open air restaurant located at the eastern entrance to the mall, where we were served by two young women: a Canadian from Calgary, and a red-headed Irish lass, both visiting Australia on one-year work visas. As anticipated, it was a delightful dining experience.
We ventured back to the Oakwood, en route calling 000 emergency services to assist a large shirtless man passed out on the sidewalk, but he eventually woke up and stated he did not need an ambulance. We left him sitting up on the sidewalk, but nevertheless looking dazed and confused. Everybody's got a problem. Something to do with self control...
We also stopped in at a convenience store to pick up some creamy milk and strawberries for our breakfast cereal in the morning, a mix of raw oats, chia seeds, hemp seeds, buckwheat, cranberries and sliced almonds. Utterly delicious once your micro-biome gets retrained to want it! 93 kms, 73 by train, 11 by bus, 2.5 by light rail, 6.5 (or so) by foot.
Monday, September 11th - Mary and I quit the Oakwood Hotel, found the footpath under the Story Bridge, then made our way to Brunswick Street which, after a kilometre or so, leads directly to the Fortitude Valley Rail Station.
We caught the Sunshine Coast line heading north and rode it the 104 kms to Nambour Station where, even though the train arrived 20 minutes late, the 631 Bus into Noosa Junction still waited. We "tapped on" using our Go Card and careened our way along 38 kms of windy roads, innumerable traffic circles, plus short stretches of the Bruce Highway, part of the national A1 Highway network on which I will travel with the Gang of Four in a week's time.
The 631 dropped us at Key Court directly opposite our motel, the Noosa Parade Holiday Inn. When booking this room on Booking.com months ago, I had assumed it was part of the international chain of the same name, but this turned out not to be the case. Still, the room was more than adequate - spacious and functional, though a little sparsely appointed.
Settling in after four hours of travel time, it was now mid-afternoon and we realized we were hungry. Finding no restaurants close to our hotel, we walked along Noosa Parade just over a kilometre to Hastings Street where we dined at the Noosa Heads Surf Life Saving Club, featuring a beautiful location overlooking Noosa Beach.
The burgers all started at almost $19, so figuring "in for a dime...", I ordered the Kahuna Burger priced around $22. What arrived was the largest burger I'd ever seen, including chips (French fries), which I washed down with a couple of pale ales. Mary's chicken burger was of the same scale, so after our meals we both felt like Mr. Creosote from the Monty Python skit.
By this point we both wanted nothing more than to return to our hotel room and take a long nap. Instead, Mary went down to the beach to take some pictures, we took a short stroll down Noosa's famed Hastings Street, then walked the 1.2 kms - mostly uphill - to the local IGA at Noosa Junction to get some groceries, picking up a couple of bottles of wine at one of Australia's ubiquitous BWS liquor stores along the way.
After shopping, we grabbed a 631 bus back to our hotel where I promptly fell asleep, exhausted and still labouring under the lingering effects of jet lag...and the Kahuna burger! 147 kms, 2/3rds by train, 30% by bus, and the remainder by foot.
Tuesday, September 12th - today was a "consolidation day" (meaning we didn't get up to much!). Amazingly we both woke up around 7:00 am, signalling that our bodies were finally overcoming the effects of jet lag. It took five days!
I attended to some business in the morning, helping Dogcow set up the fundraising post for our blog, posted the first four of these daily updates to it, and dealt with some administrivia with the good folks at BAO, from whom the GO4 team will be renting our motorcycles in less than a week's time.
We also got our washing done in the motel laundry, something I was increasingly desperate for given the paucity of clothing I have with me. More than that, I miscalculated on the ambient weather conditions. It is still somewhat cooler here than anticipated, and so I have not yet worn either pair of my Bermuda shorts, but rather have been quite dependent on both my long pants and but two long-sleeved shirts plus, to a lesser extent, my rain shell. Thinking on it today, Australia hasn't yet reached its spring equinox (September 23rd), so technically is still in its winter season.
Later in the afternoon we enjoyed a soak in the motel's not-very-hot hot tub, and for dinner we cooked up some chicken kebabs on the barbie. We are looking forward to visiting the Noosa Heads National Park tomorrow, the walking trails through which commence just past the Noosa Heads Surf Club. 1/10 of a km - to the pool area and back, twice.
Wednesday, September 13th - well, speak of the devil! No sooner had I finished whinin...er, lamenting the cool ambient temperatures than a warm front shows up with temperatures in the mid-20 degrees C. Break out the Bermuda shorts!
At mid-morning, we ventured forth from the Holiday Inn along Noosa Parade toward Noosa National Park. We passed Main Beach, anchored by the Noosa Heads Surf Life Saving Club, and continued on toward the Park and its headlands. As we progressed along the Coastal Track, we passed by many fine beaches and learned that this area is considered among the best locations in the world for "small wave surfing". We decided to make for Hell's Gates, a precipitous sea-facing gorge 2.7 kms from the Park entrance. Mary broke off in search of koalas, which are rumoured to inhabit the Park, while I continued on toward the Gates (and no, I opted not to enter them!), then returned via the 3.8 km Tanglewood Track over the top of the headlands.
Walking alone along the Tanglewood, I recalled my cousin Scott Flavelle, an acclaimed adventurer, relating to me a description of the Australian death adder, one of the most venomous snakes in the world, which hides itself under a pile of leaves leaving the tip of its tail exposed and wiggling it to attract unwitting prey, then strikes as they approach to investigate the lure.
It was originally called a "deaf adder", because unlike most snakes, it refuses to move off when approached by humans, but rather waits to launch its secret attack. When folks began to understand how deadly the snake was, its name morphed into "death adder".
Being the paranoid person that I am, I naturally assumed a death adder was probably lying in wait for me somewhere up the path. As I moved along, it gave me comfort to meet the odd individual - or better yet, a couple - walking toward me since it meant that there was obviously no death adder on the track for the next 100 meters or so since, if there was, I wouldn't be greeting these good folks - at least probably not standing or walking.
In any case, as I walked along I assiduously avoided anything resembling a pile of leaves on the trail for fear a death adder lay hidden beneath. My preoccupation with the deadly snake clearly detracted from my enjoyment of an otherwise pleasant walk through a wonderful tropical rainforest. Thanks, Scott, I owe you one, dammit.
Following our hike, we wanted to lunch at one of the fine restaurants along Hastings Street. Unfortunately, the first one we came across overlooking the beach seemed to be experiencing some kind of cyclonic-force onshore winds. And besides, even in my self-indulgent mood, I couldn't bring myself to order even the cheapest lunch offering on the menu of the place, a $30 plate of fish & chips for one! So we continued a few meters along the street to find Zachary's which, for the same dollar amount, offered a seafood share plate featuring prawns, smoked salmon, calamari, deep fried fish, salad, and chips!
After lunch we hopped a bus up to Noosa Junction where we bought some prawns for dinner at Coles, Woolies' arch-rival in Australia, plus some salt and pepper and a couple of bottles of wine. We headed back to the Holiday Inn for a soak in the warmer-today-but-still-not-yet-hot hot tub followed by a very satisfying prawn dinner. 16 kms, 12 by foot, remainder by bus.
Thursday, September 14th - I've never particularly liked having medical procedures performed on me. I like them even less when I have to perform them on myself!
Shortly before departing Canada, I had a lesion cut from my left forearm that required seven stitches. The doctor told me that after ten days, I should go to a clinic in Australia and have them removed.
This being day 13 or so (I kinda lose track because we lost a day when we crossed the international date line), I began to suss out local medical clinics who could attend to the procedure. But apparently, tomorrow is the start of a Queensland state school holiday, so for reasons beyond my full understanding, all the clinics were chock-a-block full and couldn't see me today and were closed tomorrow.
I also read that if you don't get the stitches pulled out at the right time, it can lead to complications: too early, and you increase the risk of the wound reopening; too late, and you risk the suture threads growing into the skin, ultimately making it difficult to extract them.
In the event, I checked out Wiki How and sure enough there were some fairly detailed instructions on how to remove sutures yourself! I made a list of the necessary supplies, and together with Mary made my way to the chemist shop in Hastings Street, where we procured the necessaries: rubbing alcohol, cotton pads, antiseptic ointment and bandages, which together surprisingly tallied in excess of $60. I consoled myself with the realization that I was probably buying these supplies from a chemist situated on one of the most expensive streets in Australia.
Mary and I returned to our room at the Holiday Inn, sanitized the surgical instruments - tweezers, a small set of scissors, and fingernail clippers just in case - shaved and sanitized the wound area, then set about removing the stitches using the tweezers to pull each of them away from the skin, the scissors to cut them, and then the tweezers again to pull out the almost microscopic threads. I convalesced with the help of a couple of guava-flavoured vodka "cruisers" and a glass of Chardonnay, a kind of post-op general anesthetic if you will.
Tomorrow I am looking forward to reuniting with Wallis and Geoff Edwards, who by happenstance I befriended three years ago during an Australia dairy industry deregulation study tour I undertook on behalf of the Consumers Association of Canada. 2.7 kms, by foot.
Friday, September 15th - Geoff and Wallace picked us up at the Holiday Inn on Noosa Parade and we drove the 20 minutes or so to the Eastern Beaches, where we dined at the well-regarded Cinque Terre restaurant in Sunshine Beach. We ordered Arancini Balls for a shared appetizer and Mary, Wallis and I enjoyed the Red Snapper lunch special as our mains. Geoff opted for a lamb pasta dish.
Munificent hosts, Geoff and Wallace took us on a lengthy driving tour through the Sunshine Coast to ultimately arrive in Godwin Beach at their rambling 1930's era "Queenslander", a style of home characterized by a raised main floor that allows cooling air flows to pass below, moderating inside temperatures.
Along the way we stopped to inspect the magnificent beach at Coolum, passed through the charming seaside community of Mooloolaba, stopped in to pick up some fish and prawns at the smallish but nevertheless impressive seafood market at Caloundra, checked out Steve Irwin's Australia Zoo in Beerwah, and traversed the seaside community of Toorbul to see the wild kangaroos, some eating the grass on peoples' lawns, others standing only a meter or two from the car on the side of the road.
Geoff and Wallace are committed conservationists and heritage preservers. To this end, they have purchased sizeable plots of land both in Victoria and Queensland with a view to preserving them in their natural state for the benefit of both the flora and fauna, and future generations of humans. In addition, in 2012 they transported in two halves their heritage Queenslander home to its current location, hiring construction specialists to tie it back together; they continue work to refine it.
After settling in at Godwin Bay, Mary baked up some delicious Barramundi (Asian Sea Bass) for dinner while Geoff prepared a formidable salad entailing an extensive ingredient list; I remember the olives and avocados, but I'm sure that they together comprised only about one-quarter of the ingredients. I washed up the dinner dishes while Geoff prepared a magnificent dessert of fresh mango slices, topped with passion fruit, and accompanied by a rich, near-solid dairy cream. I think I can honestly say that after six decades on the planet, I have never had that particular dessert before; it was also unequivocally delicious.
We closed the evening by watching some Australian rules football and I was gratified to finally have a native Australian in the room - Geoff - to explain the game to me. Guesstimate 150 kms, by car.
Saturday, September 16th - we took breakfast on the Queenslander's veranda overlooking Moreton Bay, then headed out with Geoff and Wallis on a day trip to visit their conservation property off the Pedwell Road 42 kms to the west in the D'Aguilar Range. They bought the 40 acre property in 1992 and have been husbanding it as a family project ever since. En route we stopped by a garage sale where we picked up some items to add to Geoff's extensive collection of miscellany.
Geoff proudly gave us a walking tour of the property explaining the works that had been completed over the years, and describing the wide variety of trees and shrubs that had taken hold, including pines, eucalypts, bamboos, palms, gum and fruit trees, some of them planted by man, the rest by nature.
From the patio of the rustic shed on the property we admired the view of Brisbane's suburbs and Moreton Bay to the far southeast while enjoying a picnic of delicious King Prawns. Geoff and I then planted a small bamboo tree in the ravine behind the shed, apparently in honour of Mary's and my visit, which I thought was a kind-hearted gesture indeed.
As we entered the thick underbrush of the ravine, Geoff would call out to the Black Snakes, Brown Snakes, and Taipans (listed in ascending order of deadliness) that periodically inhabit the property, "It's OK snake, move off now", in an effort to allow them time to move along without becoming surprised, in which case they evidently become especially ill-tempered!
In egressing the place, one of the horses the Edwards agist on their land stubbornly blocked the car's path and I was obliged to get out and play horse whisperer to get him to move.
We went for tea at the nearby Birch Restaurant on Mount Mee Road and then drove to the Gantry Day Use Area in D'Aguilar National Park, 13 kms to the southwest, where we walked along the the interpretive path through a wondrous eucalyptus and subtropical rainforest.
We descended a spur of the D'Aguilar Range on the Mount Mee Road passing some wallabies, rabbits and cattle along the way, then traveled back to Godwin Beach by way of Caboolture. Back at the Queenslander, for dinner we baked up a second large filet of Beeramundi and had another of Geoff's fine salads followed by fruit salad for dessert. After a full day we all retired early. Guesstimate 130 kms, most by car, 4 by foot.
Sunday, September 17th - after breakfast on the veranda, we bid farewell to Wallis and then Geoff kindly drove us to Caboolture Station, making a quick stop at the local nature reserve in Godwin Bay en route. At the station, Geoff accompanied us to the platform where his zoology training kicked in as he noticed a mistletoe growing in an adjacent tree. He explained that the mistletoe is a parasite whose growth will eventually kill the host tree, but meantime there is a specific species of butterfly that only feeds off the mistletoe and, in turn, a species of parasitic wasp that survives only off that butterfly. The circle of life...
We bid farewell to Geoff on the platform and rode the train for an hour into Fortitude Valley. There we disembarked and made our way to a nearby laundromat, endeavouring to catch up on our backlog of dirty clothes. At the laundromat we met three younger men, two with good-sized beards, who were also doing laundry. By their accents, I could tell that they were not native Australians but rather either from Canada or the US. Turns out they were Americans visiting Brisbane for a number of weeks.
Thinking this a bit unusual from an affordability standpoint, I asked what they did when not visiting Brisbane. The young man from California explained that they were in the US Navy, but currently working for the Air Force. I asked if he was allowed to share more details. In a manner that emphatically seemed to imply that I wouldn't be interested (think Obewan Kenobe with his mind control over the Imperial Storm Troopers), he offered that it was actually quite boring work. I took this to mean that their work was classified and that further enquiries along these lines would probably be met with stony silence. We changed topics to climate change, Hurricane Irma, and Canada-US border security issues.
Laundry dried, sorted, folded and packed, Mary and I headed back toward Fortitude Valley Station stopping for lunch at an award-winning Malaysian satay restaurant at the entrance to Chinatown. Preemptively, a young server immediately plopped down in front of us two Coke Zeros with drinking glasses filled with ice, in a manner that suggested these came free with the meal. Mary and I never touch diet drinks, but eventually succumbed thinking, "When in Chinatown...".
For a bit, I actually contemplated if perhaps Coke Zero had somehow become Malaysia's national drink. Mary checked the ingredients label and sure enough, prominently highlighted was an unpronounceable chemical that she claims she used in her university chemistry classes to initiate reactions involving other chemicals. Definitely not good, to my mind. When Mary went to pay our bill (she was treating me to an early birthday lunch), there was a $7+ charge for two Coke Zeros.
We returned to Fortitude Valley Station where Mary caught the airport train while I took one in the opposite direction, but not before she came racing along the platform as my train was pulling in yelling something about "my bag, my bag!". As I boarded, I handed over her Mac computer which I had been carrying for her since we arrived in Oz.
I rode the train one station south to Central, then exited in search of the Best Western Astor Metropole, located 250 meters to the north, where I met up with the other members of the Gang of Four; actually, Gang of Three, since it turns out that Space Cowboy has had to bow out of the trip due to significant business commitments.
In the event, Hector, Dogcow and I headed out for some Morton Bay Bugs at a lovely restaurant on the Brisbane River, George's Paragon, then dropped in for a few brew at The Buffalo on Edwards Street prior to returning to the Astor. Tomorrow, at long last, we commence our motorcycle journey. 79 kms, 24 by car, 52 by train, 3 by foot.
Monday, September 18th - we all awoke early, around 5:00 am, each excited to get on the bikes. For my part, I was also anxious about driving on the left for the first time in decades. The breakfast options at the Astor Metropole didn't suit, so we relocated to the WickEd Cafe at the Mantra Hotel about 70 meters to the north of our location.
A few minutes before 8:00 am, we caught a taxi van the 25 kms out to the Bike Round Oz depot in Alexandra Hills. The bikes were waiting in good order, and after Christine, the co-proprietor, greeted us, we "signed ze papers old man", re-packed our bags, and took a couple of practice spins around the neighbourhood to get used to driving on the left-hand side.
We asked Christine about kangaroos. She told us that they were most active two hours after dawn, and two hours before sunset. She also told us that in the backcountry, they like to hop along beside your motorcycle with you then suddenly jump out in front of it! How messed is that?!
She cautioned us that our motorcycles had new tires, so as typical we should be cautious cornering with them for the first hundred kilometres or so, since they tend to be slippery when new.
Finally, she mentioned that we should never put our helmets on the ground, since "there's too many things that wanna bite you in Australia, an' if they get in yer helmet, it can cause you some havoc when you get back on the road."
With Dogcow's rented GPS, we made short work of finding the M1 heading north over the Brisbane River, past Brisbane's international airport, beyond to the Sunshine Coast, and finally out into the Queensland hinterland. We made Bundaberg after 5.5 hours and 387 kms, obliged to ride in the "Missing Man" formation given Space Cowboys absence.
We located our hotel, the Smart Hotel Bert Hinkler - named in honour of an early Australian aviation pioneer- after which we promptly made for a local tavern. I ordered the 150 Lashes pale ale (figuring it to be a fitting brand name for a former penal colony!) - after which we bought a bottle of Bundaberg's renowned original rum to share back at the hotel.
Labouring under the effects of the rum, we opted to dine in the hotel dining room, enjoying passable steaks and, in Hector's case, a superior prawn Bengal currie. We returned to our rooms looking forward to our significantly bigger day tomorrow - more than 600 kms! 414 kms, 25 by taxi, 389 by motorcycle.
Tuesday, September 19th - we quit our rooms at the Bert Hinkler at 7:00 am and headed west for 50 or so kilometres to Gin Gin, passing by sugar cane fields and the associated processing plant which was billowing out smoke and steam. At Gin Gin we rejoined the Bruce Highway (A1) heading north and, at 8:30, stopped for a hearty breakfast at a roadhouse on the outskirts of Colosseum, the middle-aged proprietress of which was warm, kind-hearted, and well travelled.
Around midday we passed through Rockhampton with its beautiful St. Joseph's Cathedral and by 4:00 pm, after a physically draining ride (read: sore butt), were at our destination, the Paradise Lodge Motel in MacKay.
We went around to the local jar store and picked up some wine and beer. One of the clerks was so enamoured of our Gang of Four t-shirts and circumnavigation expedition plans that she insisted on having the web address of our blog. I obliged her.
Unfortunately, back at the Motel the legs of Dogcow's patio chair collapsed underneath him sending him crashing down striking his head, back and elbow on the wall and floor of the balcony, almost necessitating a call to emergency services. We patched him up then took dinner at the nearby Austral Hotel where two of us enjoyed passable steaks. 644 kms, all by motorcycle.
Wednesday, September 20th - given the long riding day ahead, we decided to quit the Paradise Lodge Motel early, at 6:30 am, and made our way back to the Bruce Highway (A1) continuing north toward Cairns.
At Bowen - "at the top of the Whitsundays", a famous tourist zone on the Great Barrier Reef - we found our way to a beachside restaurant on Horseshoe Bay for breakfast. It was 9:00 am and we had already put 185 kms on the odometer.
Along the way, we passed untold kilometres of sugar cane plantations and their associated refineries, interspersed with cattle ranches. One hundred kilometres or so south of Cairns, the cattle ranches gave way to banana plantations. The bunches of bananas hanging from the trees were wrapped in plastic bags, which I presume may be intended to protect them from excessive moisture at this stage in their growth cycle, as we often do with harvested hay in Canada.
We passed through a few minor mountain ranges - more like hills, really - until a few dozen kilometres outside of Cairns where an impressive, cloud-enshrouded range rose up. This included Mount Bartle Frere, or Chooreechillum as the aboriginals call it, Queensland's highest mountain.
Except for the cane fields and cattle ranges, early in the day much of the countryside resembled the dry East African savannahs. But as we approached Cairns, the vegetation became thick and much more verdant. This turned out to be the start of the Wet Tropics of Queensland, a World Heritage Site.
At 5:15 pm we pulled into the Coral Tree Inn, cleaned ourselves up, and went for dinner at the local veteran's club on the Esplanade, a few blocks away, after which we returned to the hotel and published Dogcow's first blog post. 744 kms.
Thursday, September 21st - the cost of the day tour to the Great Barrier Reef was very likely the best $200 I have ever spent! The Seastar Cruises day tour met all my expectations, which were very high!
It had a fun, youthful, multinational crew and overall was a very high quality service offering. I saw giant clams (bi-valves) which, seriously folks, were two to three feet across, of the kind that Lloyd Bridges and his compatriots routinely got one of their feet trapped in during episodes of Sea Quest, the 1960s-era television series about SCUBA diving adventures.
I saw an abundance of brightly coloured fish and corals, a turtle that went on casually feeding even though a group of us were within 10 - 15 feet (3 - 5 meters) of it, and an interesting upside-down jelly fish about two inches across with no tentacles; it seemed like some kind of submerged, ocean-going Oreo cookie.
The Great Barrier Reef is thousands of kilometres long, is the largest living thing on the planet, has about 500 species of coral, is a World Heritage Site, and like the Great Wall of China can be seen from space! If you're at all interested in nature, this place may be the most important pilgrimage you could make in your lifetime.
Friday, September 22nd - as we reached the outskirts of Cairns making for Normanton in the interior, the thought entered my mind that I've wanted to visit the Queensland coast for probably forty years or more - so now I can finally check that box...now that's delayed gratification for you!
We headed south, picked up the Kennedy Highway leading southwest, and at Mount Surprise joined the Savannah Way westward toward Normanton near the Gulf of Carpentaria.
Not far out of Cairns, we started to climb the Great Dividing Range, coming upon one of the most challenging technical roads I've ever ridden. With hundreds of hairpin turns, we were forced to ride in second and third gear (out of six!), using compression braking coming into the turns, then accelerating at high revs out of the turns to maintain effective control. In terms of manifesting my technical riding skills, it was a personal best.
Entering the sparsely populated interior of Queensland, we had trouble finding an eatery for breakfast. By the time we found one at 9:45 am in Mount Surprise, we had put almost 300 kms on the odometer!
After leaving the Wet Tropics on the windward side of the Great Dividing Range, we passed through rolling hills on the leeward side that looked very much like the hills of the Galician Massif, including even a sizeable wind farm! Cattle ranges once again rose into prominence before giving way to the dry savannahs and scrublands of the Savannah Way. By day's end, we had effectively traversed the base of Australia's Cape York Peninsula, a significant geological feature by any measure.
Back in Brisbane, I had asked Wallis Edwards why there were so many pickup trucks and SUVs with air intake snorkels that come up to the top of the cab allowing air to reach the engine while the vehicle is passing through bodies of water. She dismissed them by suggesting that "they just want to look tough!".
But along the Savannah Way in the interior of Queensland, it became obvious why such snorkels are needed: the highways routinely flood here, and at Croydon, the proprietor of the gas station we stopped at explained that the last rain they had - amidst a six-year drought - brought five inches in a single day! Most of the flood-prone areas even include a helpful one-meter depth gauge to inform you how deep the flood waters are that you're about to drive through!
As we proceeded inland across Australia's interior plateau, the temperature got progressively warmer, basically doubling from the 19.5 degrees at 6:30 am back in Cairns, to almost 40 degrees by mid-afternoon - and that's on the last day of winter! The effect of the heat was withering, sapping both physical and psychic energy.
At Normanton, about 80 kms from the Gulf of Carpentaria, we entered our modest room at the Central Motel to find brightly coloured green frogs residing in our toilet...welcome to the Outback! This being Australia, we assumed they were probably poisonous and gave them wide berth, but later learned from the proprietress that they were tree frogs and "would only hurt you if they perhaps jumped on your butt during your ablutions and caused you to hit your head on the ceiling as you leaped up in surprise". 678 kms.
Saturday, September 23rd - we left Normanton at 6:30 am, shortly after dawn, and proceeded at moderate speed to reduce the risk of colliding with wildlife. Just as we had been warned, the wildlife was active, with tens of wallabies either by the road or, less frequently, crossing in front of us. There were probably a few small kangaroos in the mix as well, but I haven't learned how to distinguish small kangaroos from large wallabies yet.
Along with the the wallabies, there were large flocks of white birds - probably sulphur-crested cockatoos - some good-sized herons, as well as three unusually large birds standing about a meter or more in height, which were likely brolgas (Australian cranes). In addition, there were innumerable scavenger birds - probably wedged-tail eagles - feasting on the frequent road kill, mostly wallabies. A little later in the day we saw some smaller flocks of the beautiful grey and pink galahs, aka rose-breasted cockatoos, one of my favourites.
At the small settlement of Burke and Wills, we pulled into the roadhouse for breakfast with almost 200 kilometres on our odometers. Dogcow and I both ordered the $15.50 bacon and egg breakfast plus a coffee, with a choice of having our eggs scrambled, poached or fried. We both chose scrambled. My tab came to $23.50, implying that the coffee was $8.00, which I thought was steep even for The Outback.
I asked Dogcow how much his tab came to, and he confirmed it was also $23.50. We agreed that certainly made for an expensive cup coffee. Just then I pulled my meal chit from my pocket. It showed my coffee was only $6.00, but in addition there was a $2.00 charge for scrambling the eggs. I'm not kidding! Welcome to The Outback.
Just outside of Conclury, an unprecedented event in the "History of The Gang of Four" took place, when Dogcow, who has been fearlessly leading our group across the Australian hinterland, pulled over on the roadside to check out an HISTORICAL MONUMENT.
Wait, did you say HISTORICAL MONUMENT?! Yes, I actually said historical monument, an event unprecedented in the ten years I've been riding with the group! It was a small cairn in commemoration of Burke and Wills, who in 1861 endeavoured to find a route from Victoria north to Karumba on the Gulf of Carpentaria.
Privately, to himself, Dogcow admitted he had made a mistake, one he vowed never to repeat.
We saw our first road train back in MacKay, then a few more yesterday, then quite a few today. The highway warning signs indicate they are 53 meters long, so basically over half a football field in length. During World War II, my dad served in the North Atlantic theatre on ocean-going naval corvettes - basically small destroyers - that were less than 35 meters long, so 53 meters truly strikes me as a very long road vehicle.
But the Fates were kind to us and didn't oblige us to pass one until mid-afternoon, on the approach to Mount Isa. Despite months of personal apprehension about passing the road trains, it ended up being a non-event. We easily passed it in probably under ten seconds on one of the many, many long, straight stretches of highway in Australia's interior plateau.
Around 3:30 pm, we pulled into Camooweal, not far from the Northern Territory boundary, filled our tanks, then checked into the Post Office Hotel-Motel across the street, which we had booked through the proprietress at the Central Motel at Normanton the previous evening, our own internet and even telephone connectivity being spotty in these parts. Hector and I both refreshed ourselves in the hotel's small pool under the intense Australian afternoon sun. 684 kms.
Sunday, September 24th - we left Camooweal at dawn knowing we had a long day ahead of us, intending to cover at least 800 kms if all went well. We went westward down the Barkly Highway with a beautiful morning sunrise showing in our rearview mirrors, and soon crossed into the Northern Territory.
We made 273 kms before stopping at Barkly Homestead for breakfast, gassed up with premium at $1.86 per litre, then continued 186 kms to the junction at Three Ways where we turned north toward Katherine and Darwin beyond, both still hundreds of kilometres distant. In fact, from Three Ways one is still closer to Alice Springs in the centre of the Continent than to Darwin.
Excepting the early morning hours, the road today was long, straight, remote, hot and tedious to ride, with about one in every four vehicles we saw a road train.
In Daly Waters, we pulled into the combination gas station/bar/restaurant/motel/caravan park - a common business model in this sparsely populated part of Australia - ordering the "World Famous" Beef and Barra dinner special in its bar and restaurant, regionally famous as a "happening place", a meal that helped compensate for our crowded accommodation which had the three us sharing a small, mosquito-infested room plus a bathroom down the hall that was shared with the other hotel guests.
Sometime during the night, one of the other hotel guests with poor aim puked in the single shared toilet leaving vomit strewn around the bathroom floor, much of which you could avoid if you stepped gingerly. Welcome to The Outback! 819 kms.
Monday, September 25th - we pulled away from Daly Waters at dawn to make for Darwin, traveling 165 kms before arriving at the Mataranka Roadhouse where we enjoyed breakfast on the covered outdoor patio. Once again, we passed wallabies and even a couple of kangaroos en route.
Across the Outback these past days we have seen what must literally be millions of termite mounds of varying shapes and sizes, some less than a foot (20 cms) in height, some deep red in colour, and others more greyish-brown. But Near Katherine, an important junction where you pick the main highway heading toward Western Australia, the termite mounds are unusually large, measuring 3 - 4 meters in height.
These are the abodes of Compass termites which build their mounds in specific directional orientations to modulate the internal temperature of the mound. Evidently, termites play an important role in the Outback ecosystem, consuming large amounts of vegetation that in other parts of the world would be consumed by large herbivores.
Above Katherine, we stopped in at the Emerald Springs roadhouse. The proprietor, an outspoken, in-your-face Aussie, began chastising us for advancing across the country so quickly, failing to visit some of the natural wonders on the various side roads along the route.
Eventually, Hector suggested that the proprietor was "shaming us", and the conversation suddenly became a bit "edgy". Without missing a beat, Dogcow loudly proclaimed, "We've earned your shame!", and then immediately repeated it again even louder for emphasis. His disarming declaration produced smiles and chuckles all around and defused the situation entirely.
At Emerald Springs we also met young Emilie, a Canadian from Cobourg, Ontario who came to the Northern Territory six years ago, found her love interest, and has stayed put ever since. But she and her boiler-making partner, who works in the local gold mines, are now contemplating a return to Canada, and she was keen to learn about their potential employment prospects there.
The Northern Territory is by far Australia's most sparsely populated state. Excluding the two main population centers of Darwin and Alice Springs, which together represent more than two-thirds of its roughly quarter-million population, the density in the rest of the 1.4 million square kilometers is only about one person per 20 square kilometers. But from what we've seen, even this seems an optimistic estimate!
To give you a sense of just how remote this place is, when we left Normanton a few days ago, we rode for 200 kilometers to the small settlement of Burke and Wills where we stopped for breakfast. During this two hour time span, we only passed a single vehicle and met only two coming in the oncoming lane. Plus, we saw a lone rancher/cow poke at the only obvious station (ranch) along the way.
Along the highways, small settlements or roadhouses are typically spaced 200 or 300 kilometers apart. This makes planning for fuel fill-ups and top-ups a key preoccupation. And combined with afternoon temperatures approaching 40 degrees C., all this increases the severity of the risks associated with mechanical breakdown. I've been carrying some extra water to contend with just such an eventuality, although if and when actually needed I suspect it may prove only a modest and transitory advantage.
At Adelaide River north of Katherine I visited the Commonwealth War Cemetery where mostly Aussie casualties from World War II are among the several hundred war dead buried there. But there is also one Canadian from WWII plus the only soldier from the Northern Territory who died in Vietnam.
Starting around Elliott, north of Threeways, there are a number of relic WWII-era military bases and airstrips. Although 75 years has passed, I personally felt there is a lingering sense of trauma here from the threat of Japanese invasion during the war. The invasion never transpired, but Darwin and other parts of northern Australia were bombed.
Around 3:30 pm we pulled into our attractive 2-storey, 3-star hotel in downtown Darwin, The Cav(enaugh), anchored by a good-sized swimming pool and adjoining bar overlooked by most of the hotel's rooms. We took dinner at the Char, a 4-star steakhouse on the Esplanade reputed to be the best restaurant in Darwin. The agreeable conditions at the Cav were marred by terrible Wifi connectivity at the hotel, which made updating our blog exceedingly difficult. 589 kms.
Tuesday, September 26th - I remember, 40 or 50 years ago, being totally grossed out when my dad told me he had gone to the doctor in New Westminster to get the wax cleaned out of his ears. How gross is that?! Turns out the affliction is hereditary.
During our visit to the Great Barrier Reef a few days ago, I tried to impress Hector, and get recorded on his GoPro for posterity, a snorkelling dive down about 50 feet where SCUBA divers were passing deep below.
The dive came off more or less as planned, but I noticed as the day proceeded that I was having difficulty hearing. I quickly deduced that the ambient pressure of the ocean water at 40 or 50 feet had dislodged the wax in my ears and blocked the channels, something that had previously happened to me in Maui yeas ago.
I rode for several days with plugged ears and impaired hearing, but looked forward to the upcoming planned day of respite in Darwin when I could visit a drop-in medical clinic to hopefully get them cleaned out.
After an unsuccessful effort to get an appointment at another clinic, I managed to secure one with the Darwin City Medical Clinic. The doctor I saw, one Dr. Tonga, was an amusing and mildly eccentric character but worldly-wise and seemingly an old soul.
We spent the first 20 minutes or so chatting about his travels, the international non-profit organization he leads to save our oceans, and his deep connections to members of the political class in Tonga and other places spanning thousands of kilometres around the South Pacific.
Eventually he asked me about my ailment, which I dutifully explained. He stuck an otoscope in my ear, confirmed my suspicions, scribbled something incomprehensible on a small office form, and directed me out of his office while uttering something unintelligible that I deduced meant give this form to the receptionist.
When I presented it to her, she at first seemed mildly curious but then perceptibly recoiled and rolled her eyes as she realized she had drawn the short straw: she was the one that was going to be washing the wax out of my ears! (Poor thing.)
Together we spent the next 25 minutes implementing the procedure, with the aid of a syringe, warm water, a stainless steel tray for the outflow, a plastic apron plus paper towels to sop up the spillage. She was clearly dismayed at the amount of wax that came out and so I told her the story of the doctor in Maui who, while performing the same procedure years ago, said I had enough wax in my ears to start a candle factory!
In the event, I was gratified to have my ears put right after days of impaired hearing. I have enjoyed the full day of R&R in Darwin and am looking forward to us making our way to Western Australia tomorrow. Despite its challenges, I am slowly but surely becoming beguiled by this land. 0 kms.
Wednesday, September 27th - we left The Cav in downtown Darwin at 6:30 am when the ambient temperature was already reading 27.5 degrees C. As we reached the suburbs, our route took us east heading directly into the attractive red-orange ball of the rising sun.
After 100 kms or so we reached Adelaide River where we gassed up. Hector and I were keen to have our pictures taken next to one of the unusually large termite mounds along the upcoming stretch of the Stuart Highway, so Hector temporarily took over leadership of the Gang in order to find a suitable mound.
Through a bizarre twist of fate, when we arrived in Katherine, a community of 10,000 people located 200 kilometres further south, we were informed by "Zane", a local tattoo artist, that unnoticed by any of us Dogcow had lost one of his panniers, that Zane's father had recovered it back up on the Stuart Highway while en route to Darwin, would be back in Katherine tomorrow morning and would bring the pannier back for Bob!
Since Dogcow had been riding in the rear of our group, we were all completely oblivious to the loss of his pannier which fell off when two of the steel welds on its mounting frame broke. When I explain to you the bizarre sequence of events that led to this situation, you may be inclined to believe that I am fibbing since they seem so unlikely. In fact, they seemed so improbable that Hector and I are of the view that some form of divine agency must be at play.
Key considerations:
- so far we've ridden about 5,000 kms during which Dogcow has been riding in the lead during all but a few hundred kms.
- when we arrived in Katherine, we initially checked the Victoria Highway which heads west for gas and a breakfast place, but finding nothing suitable returned to the Stuart Highway that serves as Katherine's Main Street.
- after fueling up at a Shell gas station in the high street, we asked the proprietor to recommend a restaurant and he pointed us to "The Coffee Club", a place back up a block or so on the opposite side of the street.
- when we parked our bikes across the street opposite the restaurant, we unwittingly positioned then in front of Zane's tattoo parlour, and he was waiting on the sidewalk as Hector and I dismounted (Dogcow, in his usual lickety-split manner, had already dismounted, crossed the street, and entered into the Coffee Club).
- Zane, noticing Dogcow's missing pannier, informed Hector and me that his dad had found a pannier on the highway, was taking it with him to Darwin, and would be returning very late tonight or early tomorrow morning.
- upon finding the pannier, Zane's dad, Gordon, had phoned Zane and told him to keep an eye out for three motorcyclists, one with a missing saddlebag, in Katherine - a community of 10,000 people - not long after which we by chance parked our bikes immediately in front of Zane's tattoo shop!
Ask yourself: how many unlikely things had to happen for these events to transpire as they did? To wit:
- in a rare change from our usual riding order, Dogcow was riding in the rear of our group which meant the loss of his pannier went unnoticed;
- two steel welds on Dogcow's pannier mounting frame failing simultaneously;
- Goron found the pannier while traveling north to Darwin, cared enough to stop and pick it up, then phoned Zane back in Katherine to inform him of the situation;
- our wanting to stop to eat breakfast in Katherine, finding nothing suitable along the Victoria Highway heading west and returning to the Stuart Highway which runs through the centre of Katherine;
- the proprietor at the Shell gas station on Stuart Highway recommending The Coffee Club for breakfast, located across the street from Zane's tattoo parlour;
- our parking our motorcycles within easy view of Zane immediately outside his tattoo shop.
What are the chances of all those things happening? Each one in itself has a relatively low probability, but combined?! It's one in a kazillion!!
Informed that the pannier would not be be back in Katherine until the following morning, we made the best of a bad situation. We booked into the high-end (for The Outback) Ibis Styles Katherine Hotel, identified and consulted with a suitable welding shop, visited the Nitmilik National Park 30 kilometres away where we had a beer and unexpectedly encountered and photographed literally thousands of bats hanging from the trees, then returned to the Ibis to update our blog and take dinner in the hotel restaurant, whose excellent food was diminished by the high school cafeteria-style ambience of the place. 394 kms.
Thursday, September 28th - we breakfasted at our Ibis hotel then at 8:00 am made our way the 4.2 kms to Goran and Zane's house where we picked up Dogcow's lost-but-now-recovered pannier. It was a high-spirited reunion, both between the men involved and Dogcow with his pannier.
Dogcow gave Goran a respectable financial reward, we strapped the pannier onto the back of his bike, then made our way to Hohn's Welding in Katherine's industrial park a few blocks from our hotel.
At Hohn's, Brandon, a visibly competent young welder took charge and, in short order, Dogcow's pannier was remounted on his bike and, as a precaution, Brandon re-welded a couple of joints on my own pannier mounting brackets which were visibly cracked from fatigue. They had clearly been repaired at least once before.
By 9:00 am we were back at the hotel loading our bags and booking rooms in Kununurra, more than 500 kilometres away in Western Australia (WA).
Traversing the Atacama desert in 2012, the Gang of Four learned a valuable lesson, which was that just because there is a small circle on the map indicating a community that looks like it probably has a gas station, that doesn't mean that it actually has a gas station! In fact, assume it doesn't unless specifically told orherwise!
Unfortunately, today we forgot this important lesson and left Katherine without topping up, assuming we would be able to gas up at Willeroo, 132 kms distant. Shortly after passing up Willeroo, which showed no signs of human habitation, I pulled over to consult with Hector and Dogcow about my suddenly increased range anxiety.
We agreed that Dogcow and I, who have smaller gas tanks, couldn't make Timber Creek, the next most obvious place to gas up. But at the same time, we had traveled too far from Katherine and if we tried to turn back were likely to run out 20 kms short.
Ted mentioned a sign we had seen a few kilometres back indicating there was a roadhouse at Victoria River, but the sign had been posted on a tree a good distance from the highway and was faded and partially erased by the elements. How much faith to put in it?
Ever the optimist, Dogcow enquired of Hector, "Did it say roadhouse?". Hector responded in the affirmative. Dogcow responded, "Well it's got gas then, that's the definition of a roadhouse!". Dogcow pulled out his map and we confirmed that Victoria River was only 90 kms distant; we could make it.
Which was significant, of course, if there was gas there. But we had no way of knowing for sure! Was the roadhouse still operational? Did it still offer gas? Were its gas storage tanks stocked up? Who knew?
Almost against my better judgement, we proceeded down the highway and, sure enough, we started seeing official highway signs for Victoria River that confirmed there was food, gas and lodging there! We filled up and, despite temperatures of up to 40 degrees C., we had fun making our way through the hot scrublands to Kununurra.
At the NT/WA frontier, we were required to stop for a quarantine inspection. Australia is obsessed with agricultural biosecurity and invasive species, for what must be very good reason, and certainly there are some very unfortunate historical examples of why it should be of concern. Currently they are battling a fire ant infestation in Queensland and, judging by the roadside signs we see, cane toads in Western Australia.
After crossing into Western Australia, to our surprise we gained 1.5 hours in a time zone change, so when we pulled into Kununurra Hotel it was relatively early in the afternoon. We went into the hotel bar to get some hydration, got ourselves cleaned up, and went across the street to use the free Wifi at the entrance to a local bank since the hotel's Wifi was unserviceable.
In the hotel dining room, where Dogcow and I enjoyed the tasty duck dish, we met an interesting group of locals including an older couple who had travelled overland on their own from Turkey through Iran and the Stans to Mongolia. We were mutually inspired and impressed! Being brewery owners from Broome, which we plan to visit in two days, they bought us a round of beer so we could sample their wares, including a very spicy (hot) chilli beer which DC enjoyed but not me. 521 kms.
Friday, September 29th - we left the Kununurra Hotel at 6:30 am and joined the Great Northern Highway making for Fitzroy Crossing, almost 650 kms distant. During our early morning run, there was a lot of beautiful scenery comprising vibrant yellow grasses, verdant acacia-type trees, and red rock land formations.
At the start of the day, I had confidently declared that there was gas service at 100, then a further 100, and then a further 160 kilometers beyond that along our route, this being the intel I had picked up from the locals the previous evening.
But after driving for more than an hour without encountering any services, I experienced a crisis of confidence: was this the intel I had picked up about the Great Northern Highway the previous evening from the locals, or that which I received the previous day about the Victoria Highway from the proprietor at one of the road houses along the way? Evidently the time zone change, fatigue and the searing heat were starting to play games with my mind. I flagged Dogcow over and explained the cause of my uncertainty.
Back a few kilometers, we had all seen a sign saying there was gas service at Doon Doon, but no one caught the distance, if it was listed at all, and there was no such place indicated on our maps. As a precaution, we slowed our ensuing speed to 100 kph, keeping the revs as low as practical to conserve gas. Fortunately, after a few more kilometers, the official road signs confirmed that the Doon Doon roadhouse lay only 20 kilometers or so up the road.
So...interesting, this is the opposite of the lesson we learned crossing the Atacama: sometimes gas can show up in places where it's not expected!
After topping up at Doon Doon, we continued on to the Warmun roadhouse for breakfast, having put almost 200 kms on the odometer since leaving Kununurra. Along the way we saw our first dingo, which crossed our path not far ahead.
It's 289 kms from the Hall's Creek road house, where we filled up with gas, to Fitzroy Crossing, which is getting close to the range limit for Dogcow's and my GS's, so once again we slowed our speed to conserve gas until we were confident we could make the distance, then we increased speed up to the 110 kph legal limit.
At a remote rest area by Mary's River, an elderly gentleman struck up a conversation with us and he was soon joined by his wife and their cute little Australian Terrier. They live on Bribie Island, northeast of Brisbane and close by Godwin Bay, where Geoff and Wallis Edwards live, and are on a continental circumnavigation journey of their own, but over six months by caravan (SUV-towed trailer).
When they learned that we were from Vancouver they said they had friends in a suburb of Vancouver called Coquitlam. In an odd coincidence, we explained to them that all three of us grew up in Coquitlam.
They further explained that their friend was a fire chief in Coquitlam by the name of Doug Johnston. We don't know Doug, but we all know Gary "The Hawk" Falcon, son of a previous Coquitlam fire chief, Bunny Falcon. So here's a shout out to Doug and his son Dave, if any of you reading this know either of them and can relay this message.
We arrived in our cabin at the Crossing Inn in Fitzroy, two kilometers off The Great Northern Highway, to find - count 'em - FIVE green tree frogs living in our toilet, which we did our best to dispatch through repeated flushing, but one proved particularly tenacious and remained a permanent resident! Welcome to The Outback.
On a more positive note, there is an attractive view overlooking the Fitzroy River from the back of our cabin, and just before sunset there were five small wallabies grazing in our back yard!
We each enjoyed imperfect but passionately-prepared meals - lamb chops and chicken penne - at the hotel restaurant, then made our way to the Friday night hootenanny where I teamed up with a young Aboriginal local, Josey, for two games against Hector and Dogcow, with each team winning one game each.
We then joined the party with 150 locals, 90 percent aboriginal, in the adjoining bar featuring a DJ playing rock 'n' roll and pop songs with the accompanying videos projected on a large wall beside the dance floor. 648 kms.
Saturday, September 30th - with a shorter riding day ahead - under 400 kms from Fitzroy Crossing to Broome on Australia's west coast - we slept in, bid farewell to our pet toilet frogs, and departed at 7:20 am, almost an hour later than usual.
Over the past two days we have seen a large number of the unusual thick-trunked Boab trees and many of the large, boulder-shaped termite mounds, some of the bigger ones up to ten feet across. The combination of the two along the side of theGreat Northern Highway made for an interesting landscape.
By 10:00 am we stopped for breakfast and gas 230 kms from Fitzroy Crossing at the Willare Bridge Roadhouse, the base for an annual 400 km enduring motorcycle race.
After filling up, my range indicator said I had enough gas to make 374 kms. This is the highest read-out I've seen on the bike so far on this trip, and it substantially reduced my range anxiety.
Upon reaching Broome we went the The Roey, a regionally famous bar where a couple of hundred people were enjoying the championship game of the Australian rules football league. When we left the bar, Richmond was handily beating the Adelaide Crows by dozens of points.
We pulled into the Palm Grove Holiday Resort just off Cable Beach in Broome, cleaned ourselves up, wrestled unsuccessfully once again with the Internet and our computer systems to try to update our blog, and then dined close by at the Divers Tavern Beach Bar where Dogcow and I both enjoyed sizeable rump steaks that were tasty but too sinewy. 414 kms.
Sunday, October 1st - given that this was going to be a big riding day, and that dawn was coming earlier now, we decided to leave the Palm Grove Holiday Resort at 5:45 am instead of the usual 6:30 am.
We were initially elated by the cooler temperatures. Dogcow actually had to put his riding jacket on for warmth after riding for a week without it due to the unusually warm temperatures.
Only 30 kms out of Broome, we topped up at the Roebuck roadhouse in order to be able to reach the Sandfire roadhouse, where we planned to breakfast, which at 327 kms from Broome approached the range limit of Dogcow and my GS's.
Shortly after Roebuck, my onboard thermometer showed an ambient temperature of only 16 degrees C. This was the lowest recorded since leaving Brisbane two weeks ago, and was a welcome respite from the high temperatures we experienced in recent days across The Outback.
Our relief was short-lived, however, as temperatures climbed throughout the day to reach 37 degrees C. by mid-afternoon - but thankfully, this was still 2 - 3 degrees lower than the highs we had been experiencing in the past few days.
We breakfasted at Sandfire, took additional breaks at roadhouses along the way, then arrived at the Sampson Beach Chalets at Sampson Point after a ride of more than 800 kms.
​
We then we took dinner at a local tavern where we celebrated Dogcow's birthday, watching the National Rugby League championship game in which the Melbourne Storm handily beat the North Queensland Cowboys, based out of Townsville.
About 80 kms before Port Hedland, a small bird intersected Dogcow's leg and exploded into a cloud of feathers; he reports feeling something resembling a piece of paper hitting him.
Today's ride was long, monotonous, mostly straight, and generally unremarkable. It feels like we have been riding through undifferentiated scrublands of The Outback for thousands of kilometres. Thinking on it, we have!! 816 kms.
Monday, October 2nd - at 6:30 am we left our finely-appointed chalet in Point Samson, possibly the best accommodation the GO4 has ever had, rejoined the North West Coastal Highway and gassed up a few kilometres down the road in Karratha.
It took us a bit to find a fuelling station and I remember thinking it strange that in a part of the world where gas stations are so infrequent and yet so necessary, they actually make it surprisingly difficult to find them!
At 10:00 am, we pulled into the Nanutarra Roadhouse for breakfast after putting 333 kms on the odometer.
We often buy water, electrolyte-enhanced drinks (Powerade, Gatorade) or Red Bull as we progress down the highway, and always look for recycling bins for our empty containers, but have never found any in the Outback.
Even when we offer our empty containers back to the store clerks, they always seem to dutifully take them but never offer any assurance that they are actually going to be recycled.
Dogcow says this is because scientists have done the calculations and have figured out that it will take more than a billion years to fill up the Outback, by which time humans will have colonized innumerable other new planets and galaxies.
As the day progressed, temperatures rose from a coolish (for riding) low-20s degrees C. in the early morning to an uncomfortable 37 degrees by mid-afternoon, but then dropped to a much more satisfying high-20s as we approached the coast at the end of the day.
During the day we passed a roadside sign marking the Tropic of Capricorn.
At Carnarvon, we pulled into the Carnarvon Motel not far from the Indian Ocean and, after some margs, dined at the motel's surprisingly good hot rocks restaurant.
We finally overcame some of the computer technical issues we've been facing in the Outback, including woefully inadequate internet connectivity, and so happily were able to update our blog today. 689 kms.
Tuesday, October 3rd - we left the Carnarvon Motel in sub-20 degree C. temperatures that for comfort required that I wear a long-sleeved shirt under my riding jacket for the first time since leaving Brisbane more than two weeks ago.
We pulled into the Overland Roadhouse for breakfast with almost 200 kms on the odometer. Before we got there though, we saw more road-killed kangaroos - some of them still quite fresh - in the space of a single mile along the Brand Highway than we saw live or dead ones while riding the entire way across the country from Cairns on the east coast.
There were also free ranging live sheep and goats in significant numbers along the way, which prompted us to moderate our speed to reduce the risk of a collision.
We subsequently passed a road sign indicating 26 degrees of latitude, which the Aussies regard as the dividing line between northwestern and southwestern Australia.
Throughout the day we had sub- and low-20s temperatures which came as welcome respite after more than a week of Outback temperatures in the mid- and high-30's that periodically reached 40 degrees.
Along with the lower temperatures came more interesting terrain as we transitioned onto the Coastal Highway - rolling hills with winding roads - and more dense, greener vegetation including hay crops, the first I've seen since arriving in Australia.
I find Aussies generally friendly and gregarious, but today I encountered one of their sociopaths. At the small settlement of Binnu on the North West Coastal Highway, I pulled into a service station in case Dogcow, who had been complaining about "the nods" (getting sleepy while riding), wanted to pick up a Red Bull.
But he waved me off, saying let's continue on to Northampton where we had agreed to gas up. At the edge of the highway where the dirt met the pavement, there was a ledge a few inches tall that required a blunt angle of attack - more or less perpendicular to the road - lest the front wheel get caught on the ledge and cause the bike to drop.
Just as I was executing this maneuver at comparatively slow speed, I noticed a truck approaching from my right, so once on the highway I immediately pulled over onto the left shoulder. But the driver of the vehicle gave me no quarter, even though there were no approaching vehicles, and instead hugged the left side of the lane close to me, and leaned on his horn.
A few minutes later I was positioning close behind this driver to commence a pass, and he hit his breaks to warn me to back off. When I finally did pass him, he purposefully sped up in an effort to thwart the maneuver. As a result, he closed off the interval between vehicles and Dogcow, who had followed me into the pass, couldn't get back into our lane and instead had to gun it to also pass the next vehicle ahead.
We later saw the burly guy driving the subject vehicle at a gas station, and he looked to me like the type of individual who has probably spent some time in prison. If he hasn't, he almost certainly should.
After we reached Geraldton, an attractive coastal town, we started to pass through dense, low-lying littoral vegetation which was periodically interrupted by white sand dunes and vistas of the Indian Ocean.
We pulled into our B&B in the heights above Jurien Bay, which unfortunately lacked any views of the ocean and offered no nearby dining, so we ventured forth a few kilometres into downtown Jurien Bay where we dined at the Sandpiper Tavern. 675 kms.
Wednesday, October 4th - given the short ride into Perth today, we allowed ourselves the luxury of an extra 15 minutes of sleep and after a Continental breakfast of fruit, yogurt and toast, left our B&B atop the Jurien Heights around 7:30 am, continuing down the Indian Ocean Drive.
Passing by the dense, low-lying coastal vegetation, we again saw sand dunes looming, including a huge one that may have been as tall as a five- or ten-story building.
Hector reported that he had seen one or two kangaroos some distance from the road, and even one or two emus. A short time later, we crested a hill and saw a flock of four or five emus in a field perhaps 75 meters from the highway.
As one would expect, starting 100 kms or so north of Perth, there was increasing traffic congestion and signs of economic development, including a dairy farm. I had not not seen one of those since we left Queensland.
With the aid of Dogcow's trusty GPS, we found our way to the Travelodge on Hay Street in downtown Perth, dropped off our luggage for temporary storage, then rode the bikes out to the Bike Round Oz authorized service depot 17 kms away in the southeastern suburb of Maddington.
After dropping off the bikes, we walked a few hundred meters to the Maddington Station and caught an Armadale Line train back into Perth, checked into our room and, in light of our light breakfast today, went in search of an eatery to tide us over until dinner.
Oddly, while downtown Perth is well supplied with casual dining establishments and cafes including many serving ethnic Chinese, Malay or Indian food, it seems surprisingly bereft of smart, mid-market dining experiences similar to our, say, Cactus Clubs or Joey's, even in the sizeable pedestrian malls on Hay and Murray Streets. We wandered for quite some time before finding something passable - and only just passable - at the very end of the Murray Street mall, a few blocks away from our hotel.
We returned to the Travelodge to update our blog using the hotel's free wifi, which proved so inadequate as to be a non-starter. So we bought a high-speed internet access package for $20 for three days. This helped our cause initially, but eventually even it clapped out, and our persistently dysfunctional experiences with Australia's internet infrastructure continue.
A cursory investigation revealed that unlike Canada, Australia allows "throttling" of its internet system which gives priority to certain uses, presumably those which can pay the most for the service. This is a bone of much contention in North America, with some lobby groups calling for throttling to be introduced, while others want to preserve "net neutrality", i.e., equal access for all.
Personally, I have to date been agnostic on the question, but after my experience with Australia's dysfunctional internet system, I am now squarely in the net neutrality camp.
Interestingly, each of us in the Gang of Four is of the opinion that the Internet access we had five years ago in Peru, a developing nation, was vastly superior to what we have been able to obtain in Australia in 2017.
We took dinner at the pub at the Grosvernor Hotel, about two blocks down Hay Street from our own hotel. The food was quite good, but the real standout was the live performer, Rick Steele, whose persona and sound resembled an outstanding mix of Leon Redbone, Bob Dylan and JJ Cale. We so enjoyed his music and performance that we wished we could take him home with us to Canada.
In another interesting coincidence forged by the Fates, it turns out that Rick is also the father of Luke Steele, lead songwriter and guitarist of Australia's famous "Empire of the Sun" electronic music band, one of my and Mary's favourites. Estimate: 230 kms.
Digression #1: On Scrublands
I have run out of adjectives (notice I didn't say superlatives) to describe the Australian Outback. And the reason is not what you might think: how many words are there in the English language to describe largely undifferentiated scrublands running for thousands of kilometres? It doesn't take long to run through all of them and then there's no real point in continuing on, right?
Back at the bar in Daly Waters, after three days of traversing the Outback wilderness where virtually all of the river and creek beds were bone dry, Dogcow asked a me a thought-provoking question: "If someone offered you 150 acres of The Outback for $150, would you buy it?"
Ever on the lookout for a deal, I began to ponder the investment merits of the proposal. But in less than two seconds, Dogcow interrupted my train of thought to provide the correct answer: "Of course you wouldn't!", he exclaimed. "There's nothing there! There's no water! What would you do with it?!"
That got me to thinking. Yes, there are some beautiful and unusual vistas in The Outback, but they are spread so far apart in space and time or are otherwise so repetitive in nature, that from a tourism perspective the point of diminishing returns is reached rather quickly.
Consider this: let's say your bank offered you a free $10 bill. That would be good, right? But what if they then told you that you had to walk ten kilometres to get it. Not really worth it, huh? That's basically the scenic bargain that The Outback offers.
Not that there's nothing in The Outback. The thousands of bats in the Katherine Gorge were a sight to behold, and the millions of termite mounds - some three or four meters tall, others just as wide - were an amazing curiosity.
At other times we would round a bend to see a low-lying mountain range looking a vibrant red in the early morning sun and, contrasting with it in the foreground, pale yellow grasses intermixed with medium- and dark-green acacia-type trees that were in turn contrasting with the deep red-coloured soil on which they had taken root. Such vistas were sublime.
But despite the dreary visual monotony of The Outback, there is more to it than meets the eye. The roadhouses and caravan parks located every 150 to 300 kilometres are the most obvious things. Less obvious are the cattle stations (ranches), of which there are many, typically located at the end of red dirt track roads that stretch for tens of kilometres off the main highway, and largely invisible to passersby.
And what about the many road trains we saw? How do they pay for all the diesel fuel that keeps these massive rigs rolling unless they're carrying something of significant commercial value?
On the wall of the tavern in Point Samson was a "resource map" for Western Australia. To my surprise, it showed a significant number of mines sprinkled across the state: precious metals, base metals, rare earths, industrial minerals and so on, plus extensive oil and gas deposits. It turns out that, like western Canada, Western Australia is a resource cornucopia.
In fact, a mining industry promotional ad in a Perth newspaper told me that Western Australia has more than 40 operating gold mines (compared to about 5 in British Columbia), including 11 of the world's largest, employing more than 20,000 Australians. So activities associated with these resource industries - mining, ranching, oil and gas, etc. - provide strong clues as to what the road trains must be carrying.
Interestingly, as we approached downtown Perth, two of the City's tallest skyscrapers had the names of the world's second and third largest mining companies emblazoned prominently across their peaks: BHP Billiton and Rio Tinto. The Outback is by no means a wasteland.
Thursday, October 5th and Friday, October 6th - spent the past two days "consolidating" in Perth, resting up, doing a bit of laundry, and updating our blog (finally with some passable but still way too frequently unreliable wifi).
While we had some difficulty finding a suitable eatery for lunch on Wednesday when we arrived in Perth, this issue quickly disappeared once Dogcow got to focus on the issue. As a restauranteur (in addition to being a CPA) he has an uncanny ability to quickly size up the quality of an establishment and the GO4 team benefits consistently from this skill.
For dinner on Thursday we found a solid bar down Hay Street, the Stable Bar, featuring a lively, professional ambiance (lots of folks in business attire) and some live music. On Friday evening we dined at the Sentinel on St. George's, down the street from Government House with its extensive grounds and opposite the 200 meter skyscraper bearing Rio Tinto's name.
On our return to the Travelodge, we stopped in for a nightcap at the Hula Bula Bar, a fun, retro tiki bar with a creative menu of exotic tropical cocktails. Dogcow, who has designs on establishing his own tiki bar one day, absconded with one of the menus in the interests of "R+D".
Earlier on Friday, we went on the commuter train back out to Maddington to pick up our serviced motorcycles from Jeremy at Perth Motorcycle Works. My bike was the only one of the three that needed a new tire, a back one, after our ride across the Continent.
Hector and Dogcow suggested it was because of the extra non-muscular mass I have on my corpus; I countered that it was because I was carrying all the extra tools that we would need when their bikes broke down. Imagine, the effrontery...
Tomorrow we start our return journey back across the Continent, but not before heading south - and actually a little bit even further west, believe it or not - to Margaret River, Western Australia's famous wine-making region (not that GO4 is interested in wine, of course). 16 kms on the bikes (back from Maddington), plus more by foot.
Saturday, October 7th - with a short riding day of just a few hundred kilometres ahead, we slept in an extra 15 minutes.
I started my day by commending Hector on what I consider to be an epic, potentially award-winning blog entry comprising interesting expository prose, great pictures, an exceptional YouTube video featuring the fearsome Australian Doonlop Rubbarubbadile, and an extraordinarily creative Fairy Tale about an adventure of the mythical Royal Riders.
Dogcow, by his own admission, is a very light sleeper - anything can awaken him and disrupt his sleep. I, on the other hand, snore when I sleep, but try hard (unsuccessfully) to deny it. Not a good combo for sharing a room, especially since Dogcow doesn't hesitate for an instant to let me know - very loudly and in the middle of the night - that I am snoring and need to shut up! It is a very unproductive combination since we both end up losing sleep, which in turn increases the risk for both of us on the bikes the following day.
Last night was the worst instance to date, and I actually found myself in need of a nap this afternoon to make good on my lost sleep,a development not really consistent with the Honey Badger attitude espoused by the Gang of Four.
I did the arithmetic and figured out that for perhaps an extra $50 per night for the remaining 20 days of our expedition, Dogcow and I could secure separate rooms for the rest of the trip...so, $1,000 total. Cheap at twice the price!
We discussed it and agreed to try to secure separate rooms whenever possible for the remainder of our adventure. They say that money can't buy happiness, which may be true, but in this case it might at least buy some peace!
We headed out of Perth through low- and mid-teen temperatures and eventually some moderate rain, the first real rain we have experienced since coming to Australia. We stopped to zip in our rain liners, along with the thermal liners, into our purpose-built Revit adventure riding jackets.
As we left Perth, I reflected on the merits of the place. First off, it is probably the cleanest city I've ever visited - absolutely no litter that I could see. And almost no used gum splattered on the sidewalks (in some parts of my home town of Vancouver, you can measure the number of used gum splotches in dozens per square meter!).
Perth has also done a great job of preserving its heritage buildings and integrating them with the modern built environment, such as glass-shrouded skyscrapers, in visually attractive ways.
Although I didn't have a long time on target, my general impression is that the City works well, from the well-functioning light rail system, to the seemingly reasonable traffic flows, attractive parks, clean streets, and attractive built environment. I concluded that if I had to choose a place in the world to live other than southwestern British Columbia, Perth might well be it!
After leaving Perth, we made our way along Australia's southwestern coast in search of attractive vistas, on the way passing Fremantle, Perth's seaport, and then Henderson, home to a large shipbuilding complex. Close by on Garden Island is HMAS Stirling, Australia's main naval base on the west coast.
As we moved further south it seemed like we were going back to the future, with the vegetation thickening, taller trees, and looking increasingly tropical much like we saw back on the Queensland coast.
As we moved away from Perth's metropolitan agglomeration, the countryside evolved into low, undulating hills with many dairy and sheep farms and, as we approached Margaret River, Western Australia's famous wine-making district, numerous wineries with their vineyards began to displace the dairy farms. At Margaret River, we checked in at the quaint but quite serviceable Admirable Stirling Inn.
My initial impression of Margaret River was that it's fairly unremarkable. But this changed somewhat when we went to the large and crowded Settlers Tavern for dinner. It was packed, including many families with young children, just as the other eating establishments along the town's main road had been.
Clearly this place is some kind of Western Australian tourist mecca, but with ambient temperatures in the low- to mid-teens, it eluded my understanding as to precisely why that should be the case at this particular time of year. I subsequently checked the school calendar for Western Australia and, sure enough, learned that this weekend marks the end of a two-week statewide school holiday. 319 kms
Digression #2: Young Foreign Workers in The Outback
Recall that back in Brisbane, Mary and I met a young woman from Calgary and an Irish lass who were serving our table at the restaurant on the Queen Street Mall where we enjoyed our Morton Bay Bugs. Both were in Australia on a temporary work visa for one year.
When I asked the young Irish women if her one year visa could've extended, she replied in the affirmative, but explained only if she was prepared to accept "regional work". When I asked what that meant, she looked uncertain and suggested it meant, for example, working at one of the Outback "stations" (i.e., a cattle or sheep ranch).
As GO4 crossed the northern Outback, we encountered a significant number of these young foreign workers, starting with the young Virginian woman at the remote Roadhouse in Burke and Wills.
Following breakfast, I asked her if I could trouble her for a glass of water. She abashedly explained that water was scarce here and expensive to bring in, so the Roadhouse's policy was that customers had to pay for water, which I did. Welcome to The Outback.
But as she explained it she looked apologetic and slightly bewildered, adding that she had "never heard of anything like that before". I came away from the encounter wondering through what set of improbable circumstances she had ended up here, seemingly marooned in the remote Australian Outback.
But as our trip continued we encountered more of these young foreign workers, most of them female, working as store clerks, servers and cooks throughout the Outback. And the list of countries from which they harked was to my mind intriguing: the United States, Canada and Ireland, of course, but also France, Belgium, Argentina, Israel, Germany, Chile, and the list goes on.
And I thought to myself, what a great photojournalist assignment that would make: to travel around the Outback, interviewing and photographing these young foreign workers, learning their backstories, and trying to forge a deeper understanding of what motivated them to purposely choose the harsh and remote life of the Outback, even if only temporarily. I admired their personal courage and adventurous spirits!
Related to this, what is the public policy logic for the program under which these young people ultimately migrate to the Australian Outback? Overall its effects seem salutary, to be sure, but I suspect there is some interesting program history there.
Sunday, October 8th - with a short riding day ahead, we slept in and at 7:30 am left Margaret River on Hwy 10 making our way south and then southeast to Hwy 1, which would then allow us to travel closer to the coast. Our route took us along winding secondary roads through verdant, rolling hills reminiscent of the home counties south of London, with dairy and sheep farms and tall deciduous (Eucalypt) forests.
With Dogcow leading, at one point Garmin directed us along a single lane, paved road though open fields and forests. In one of those forests, a large kangaroo suddenly bounded out across the roadway about 30 meters in front of Dogcow's motorcycle. From my no. 2 position, it was easy to see why motorists are at such risk of colliding with these animals. Much closer and there would have been no time to react.
At Northcliffe, with about 150 kms on our odometers, we stopped at the Hollowbutt Cafe for breakfast. It was there that we agreed that in spite of the light rain the morning's ride, with its many curves and beautiful scenery, had been the best since we arrived in Australia.
At Albany, we checked into the Best Western in the early afternoon, washed up, drank some Margaret River Sauvignon Blanc, then made our way to the local tavern, the Earl of Spencer, where we enjoyed top-notch meat pies and a
good but relatively expensive red wine, Cherubino Laissez Faire Syrah.
Tomorrow we make for Norsemen, considered the Gateway to the Nullarbor, through which passes the Eyre Highway, considered one of the most dangerous roads in the world because of its long straight stretches that put drivers to sleep. 374 kms.
Monday, October 9th - we quit the Best Western in Albany at 6:30 am with a relatively long riding day ahead of us, almost 700 kms to Norseman, with ambient temperatures in the high single-digits Celsius, the coldest we've experienced since arriving Australia.
At 8:45 am, with 180 kms on our odometers, we stopped at Jerramungup for breakfast. Later in the day, we made a rest stop at a funky roadhouse in Ravensthorpe where the proprietress enquired as to our direction of travel. When we explained we were heading east, she sounded a bit surprised and advised, "Be careful." We almost dismissed her caution but then thought the better of it. Belatedly, Dogcow asked, "Why?" She responded simply, "Lots of animals...kangaroos."
The countryside today was an interesting mix of agriculture (grains and dairy), ranching (sheep and cattle), Eucalyptus forests, and scrublands. Essentially a bit of everything, but giving way to a greater proportion of scrublands as we moved eastward.
Attractive overall, but also a bit foreboding, since the scrublands were reminiscent of our travels across the northern Outback more than a week ago. I expect scrublands will again become dominant once we start down the Eyre Highway from Norseman tomorrow.
At Norseman, we took up our temporary residence in a "cabin" at the Gateway Caravan Park. Certainly serviceable, with a good shower, but given the close quarters I'm expecting another "land use conflict" tonight on the light sleeper/snorer axis. Unfortunately, no better sleeping arrangements were available to be booked in Norseman this evening.
We took dinner at the Great Western Motel, adjacent to our caravan park. The chef, who we met earlier in the afternoon while reconnoitring the place, abashedly claimed it's the best restaurant in town. We had no reason to doubt him and so enjoyed some respectable lamb and prawn dishes brought out to us by a slightly crazed, hyperactive middle-aged woman who kept us bemused but also a bit wary. 689 kms.
Tuesday, October 10th - we left the Gateway Caravan Park in Norsemen at 6:30 am and by 8:40 were enjoying breakfast at the Balladonia Hotel 188 kms down the Eyre Highway.
When we left Norsemen the ambient temperature was 16.5 C., but by mid-day it more than doubled to reach 39 C. as we started across the Nullarbor Plain.
Nullarbor is Latin for "no tree", but in fact there are trees, at least at the western end of the Plain, albeit intermittently and they're usually not very tall.
We saw no live kangaroos today but lots of dead ones along the road, at least hundreds and more likely thousands in varying states of decay. At first I was saddened by this but in time became inured to it.
Just past Balladonia the Eyre Highway cuts a straight line for 146 kms to Caiguna, the longest stretch of straight road with no curves in Australia.
As scrubland, this part of The Outback is visually quite attractive. The problem is, there's too much of it, so the novelty quickly wears off.
I saw something that told me the population of the Nullarbor, which is more than 1,200 kilometres across, was 86 in the 2006 census. Presumably most of these folks work in the roadhouses, which seem to be more closely spaced together in the Nullarbor compared to the northern Outback.
Gasoline is relatively expensive here with Premium (98 octane rating) selling for as high as $1.97 per litre, almost a third above the usual going rate.
In the afternoon, strong winds started to buffet both us and our motorcycles, to the point of causing Dogcow neck pain. In fact, we encountered other motorcyclists who had pulled up short on the day, booking in at one of the roadhouses along the way to escape the high winds. I think the fact that GO4 had previously endured the powerful winds of Patagonia enabled us to carry on today like the Honey Badgers we aspire to emulate.
During the day, I suffered a couple of serious bouts of the nods, having to resort to repeatedly yelling at myself inside my helmet to "stay awake". In both instances, consuming a can of Red Bull helped put me right for a spell.
After 700 kms we pulled into the Eucla Motel in Eucla, which bills itself as the Gateway to Western Australia, having lost 45 minutes on our watches due to a time zone change. Weird.
We are now only 12 kms from Western Australia's border with South Australia, and more than 1,400 kms east of Perth on the west coast. Tomorrow we continue our trek across the Nullarbor. 704 kms.
Wednesday, October 11th - we left the Eucla Motel a few minutes before 6:30 am in mid-teen temperatures which warmed to the high-teens and low-20s as the day progressed.
With lower riding temperatures and a shorter distance to travel - less than 600 kms - today would be less physically and mentally draining than yesterday.
We quickly came to the border with South Australia, which lies only 12 kms east of Eucla, then before taking breakfast at the Nullarbor Hotel, 183 kms down the track, we stopped at a lookout providing an awe-inspiring vista of the Bunda Cliffs which rise vertically for what seems hundreds of feet out of the Great Australian Bight.
By this point, the Nullarbor truly has no trees, but is rather an endless plain of densely-packed low-lying shrubs, none more than a meter in height, stretching to the horizon.
At the eastern edge of the Nullarbor, somewhere around the Nundroo Roadhouse or Penong, the Plain starts to give way to grain farming and a bit of sheep farming. Eventually, the grain farming dominates, which means you have reached the eastern edge of the Plain.
At Ceduna, the official end of the Nullarbor, we passed through a brief agricultural inspection checking for fruit. Judging by a poster I saw, evidently fruit flies are a concern in SA.
We then turned south on the Flinders Highway down the western edge of the the Eyre Peninsula, making for Streaky Bay on the coast, where we pulled into the eminently serviceable Streaky Bay Motel, overseen by a smart, plucky Scotsman harking from Inverness. Interestingly, Streaky Bay and Inverness share some commonalities: windswept, ocean-facing, on a low-lying coastal plain. 598 kms.
Thursday, October 12th - we awoke at 5:45 am for a 6:30 start, but shortly after 6:00 Dogcow knocked on Hector's and my motel room door to report that his credit card was still back at the Streaky Bay Hotel where we had taken dinner the previous evening.
Against Dogcow's better judgement, the restaurant in the Hotel had held onto his card so he could run a tab, which he never ended up doing.
We were worried that we might have to hang around in Streaky Bay until mid-day when the restaurant was slated to open for the day, but as luck would have it the hotel office opened at 7:00 am and by 7:10 Dogcow was back at our motel with his credit card in hand.
Meanwhile, we hadn't considered the implications of the previous day's 1.75 hour time zone change (Yes, you read that right, 1.75 hours! Welcome to The Outback!), which meant that today the sun didn't rise until about 7:00 am in any case. Since we don't ride before dawn or after sunset, we were no worse off as a result of the delay involved in Dogcow recovering his credit card.
Subsequently, Dogcow did a good job leading us under difficult morning riding conditions, with ambient temperatures in the high single-digits and a low-hanging rising sun shining directly into our eyes for the first hour or more of the day.
After putting 235 kms on our odometers, we pulled in for breakfast at the Kimba Roadhouse on the Eyre Highway, about two-thirds the way along the top of the Eyre Peninsula.
Not long after breakfast we passed the Iron Knob, a hill-top metal mine readily visible from the road on the otherwise flat plain.
We completed our traverse of the Eyre Peninsula at Port Augusta, located at the top of the Spencer Gulf. Just south of Port Augusta, clearly visible from the road, is a large 20-hectare advanced greenhouse complex powered by a concentrated solar power system.
Wikipedia tells me that it is the first system of its kind to provide multiple energy streams – heating, fresh water (desalination) and electricity – for horticultural activities, and that it is backed by venture capital interests.
As we traveled south down the A1 toward Port Wakefield, our destination for the day, we saw what appeared to be a couple of good-sized dried-out lakes, but they were distinctly pink in colour. Turns out they are man-made salt flats using evaporation to harvest salt from the seawater available from nearby Gulf St. Vincent. Apparently the algae that inhabit the flats absorb reddish-coloured beta carotene, which accounts for the striking pink hue of the place.
Around 3:00 pm we pulled into Port Wakefield at the top of Gulf St. Vincent which is about one hundred kms north of Adelaide, the capital of South Australia. After being erroneously double-booked at the Port Wakefield Hotel, we were redirected to the Port Wakefield Motel, right on the A1, whose accommodations we found very satisfactory, especially since we could get two separate rooms thus avoiding any land use conflicts (read: snoring/sleep disruption issues).
We returned to the Port Wakefield Hotel for dinner where their quaint heritage dining room was quickly overrun by an incoming team of 25 university engineering students from the University of New South Wales who had just competed in a 6-day, 3,000+ km Darwin-to-Adelaide international race for student-designed solar-powered vehicles. The Dutch won both categories: speed and practicality (think family sedan). 598 kms - which is weird, since it is exactly the same number as yesterday!
Friday, October 13th - we broke camp in Port Wakefield at 7:00 am making for Mount Gambier on the southeast coast of South Australia, very near the border with Victoria. Ambient temperatures were in the high single-digits and climbed to the high-teens as the day progressed.
We headed south about 100 kms to do a drive-through of Adelaide - unfortunately, in the morning rush hour - to get a general impression of the place. It was overcast when we entered the City and transitioned to moderate rain as we headed out of it eastward into the Adelaide Hills.
The overcast and rainy conditions probably dampened my first impression of the place, which nevertheless was still quite positive: moderate in size, great heritage buildings and green spaces, impressive public amenities such as the large sports stadium near the downtown, and so on. To my mind it seemed like a blend of Canada's national capital, Ottawa, and British Columbia's provincial capital, Victoria. I hope to have the opportunity to return someday.
After traversing the Adelaide Hills in the rain we had difficulty locating a suitable venue for breakfast so continued on to Tailem Bend where we stopped with almost 200 kms on our odometers.
At Tailem Bend we turned south on the B1 past the Coorong National Park on Long Bay, an important sanctuary for both migratory birds and other birds during Australia's frequent droughts.
Since Penong on the eastern edge of the Nullarbor and across the Eyre Penninsula, the predominant landform has been flat plains dominated by grain farming, with the large Viterra-branded - formerly Saskatchewan Wheat Pool - graineries to prove it.
But along the B1 the land use transformed to sheep and cattle ranching - mostly the former - utilizing the extensive lush green grass pastures in evidence. Since it is spring in Australia, there were many young lambs among the sheep herds.
After arriving at the Mount Gambier Hotel to one of the best and most expansive accommodations GO4 has ever enjoyed - with wainscotting, no less! - Hector and I took a short ride to the Blue Lake, an impressive extinct caldera on the south side of town that filled with water to form an attractive lake.
While there, I noticed that part of the back tire on Hector's RT glistened in the sun. Say what? A motorcycle tire with 12,000+ kms on it glistening in the sun? That's not right. I mentioned to Hector that I think I had bad news: his rear tire had worn through to the steel radial belts!
It was relatively late in the day, past 3:30 pm, but demonstrating impressive pluck, Hector set out to find a tire shop where he could get a new back tire installed by the end of business, which to my great surprise he did: a Bridgestone shop located only two blocks away from our hotel! He picked up his bike with the new tire installed at 4:45 pm, just before the shop closed for the day.
Despite his success, I couldn't help wondering if perhaps Hector had put on some weight since Perth? 553 kms
Friday, October 13th - we broke camp in Port Wakefield at 7:00 am making for Mount Gambier on the southeast coast of South Australia, very near the border with Victoria. Ambient temperatures were in the high single-digits and climbed to the high-teens as the day progressed.
We headed south about 100 kms to do a drive-through of Adelaide - unfortunately, in the morning rush hour - to get a general impression of the place. It was overcast when we entered the City and transitioned to moderate rain as we headed out of it eastward into the Adelaide Hills.
The overcast and rainy conditions probably dampened my first impression of the place, which nevertheless was still quite positive: moderate in size, great heritage buildings and green spaces, impressive public amenities such as the large sports stadium near the downtown, and so on. To my mind it seemed like a blend of Canada's national capital, Ottawa, and British Columbia's provincial capital, Victoria. I hope to have the opportunity to return someday.
After traversing the Adelaide Hills in the rain we had difficulty locating a suitable venue for breakfast so continued on to Tailem Bend where we stopped with almost 200 kms on our odometers.
At Tailem Bend we turned south on the B1 past the Coorong National Park on Long Bay, an important sanctuary for both migratory birds and other birds during Australia's frequent droughts.
Since Penong on the eastern edge of the Nullarbor and across the Eyre Penninsula, the predominant landform has been flat plains dominated by grain farming, with the large Viterra-branded - formerly Saskatchewan Wheat Pool - graineries to prove it.
But along the B1 the land use transformed to sheep and cattle ranching - mostly the former - utilizing the extensive lush green grass pastures in evidence. Since it is spring in Australia, there were many young lambs among the sheep herds.
After arriving at the Mount Gambier Hotel to one of the best and most expansive accommodations GO4 has ever enjoyed - with wainscotting, no less! - Hector and I took a short ride to the Blue Lake, an impressive extinct caldera on the south side of town that filled with water to form an attractive lake.
While there, I noticed that part of the back tire on Hector's RT glistened in the sun. Say what? A motorcycle tire with 12,000+ kms on it glistening in the sun? That's not right. I mentioned to Hector that I think I had bad news: his rear tire had worn through to the steel radial belts!
It was relatively late in the day, past 3:30 pm, but demonstrating impressive pluck, Hector set out to find a tire shop where he could get a new back tire installed by the end of business, which to my great surprise he did: a Bridgestone shop located only two blocks away from our hotel! He picked up his bike with the new tire installed at 4:45 pm, just before the shop closed for the day.
Despite his success, I couldn't help wondering if perhaps Hector had put on some weight since Perth? 553 kms
Saturday, October 14th - with a relatively short riding day ahead of us, we left the Mount Gambier Hotel at 7:30 am making our way to the Great Ocean Road, a famous tourist attraction southwest of Melbourne. We quickly passed into the State of Victoria and picked up an additional half hour on our watches and clocks.
In terms of scenery and riding, I personally think this was the best day of the entire trip so far. The southeast part of South Australia entering into southwest Victoria has a great combination of rolling hills covered with lush green grasses and a mix of both evergreen and deciduous trees that is reminiscent of southwest British Columbia, the place I call home.
Ambient temperatures started out in the high single digits Celsius and never climbed above the mid-teens. Coolish for motorcycle riding, but quite comfortable if you have sufficient layers on, which we did.
The Great Ocean Road, the B100, fully met expectations, with wonderful natural rock formations such as arches and "The Twelve Apostles" carved out of the sandstone coastline. Unfortunately, the ongoing assault of the elements means the twelve have been reduced in number over the years - but what is left is still gorgeous to witness.
The last 70 kms or so of the B100 heading into Apollo Bay, our destination for the day, has marvellous "twisties" through undulating hills offering periodic vistas of the distant Great Southern Ocean. The twisties combined with the moderate temperatures and beautiful vegetation and scenery to my mind made this the best riding day of the trip so far.
We stayed in a modern two-bedroom suite at the Seaview Motel in Apollo Bay and took dinner at one of the two taverns in town. But with a terrible, loud musician, we quit the place shortly after dinner. We moved along the high street a block or two to the other tavern featuring an accomplished guitarist/balladeer from Ireland, Darren, who during one of the breaks in his performance came by to talk to us to learn our backstory. It ended up being a fun night! 371 kms.
Sunday, October 15th - with a short riding day ahead of less than 200 kms into Melbourne, we slept in and departed the Seaview at 10:00 am, taking breakfast at a trendy eatery on the high street. I had the eggs florentine with smoked salmon and avocado. A true biker's breakfast if ever there was one!
We continued along the winding, coast-hugging Great Ocean Road. But the going was slow. With all the hairpin turns and other vehicles on the road to contend with, it took an hour-and-a-half to cover the 75 kms up to Anglesey. But the scenery was rewarding, with many vistas of long, sandy beaches with powerful white breakers running ashore.
Past Anglesey the B100 climbs up and away from the coast, along more conventional roads, and eventually we made our way onto the M1 heading into Melbourne. We rode in close formation to keep other vehicles from disrupting (inserting themselves into) our group.
The Garmin made short work of finding our hotel, the Great Southern, which is conveniently located in the CBD close by Melbourne's massive Southern Cross Train Station and within easy walking distance to the popular Southbank Promenade along the Yarra River which features many trendy dining establishments.
We took dinner on the Promenade at the P.S. Bar + Kitchen then retired early to our rooms at the Great Southern. 184 kms
Monday, October 16th - a consolidation day off the bikes in Melbourne. At 9:00 am I wandered up to the Southern Cross which houses a Woolies, picking up some muesli, milk and yogurt. With all the restaurant meals we've been having, and breakfasts dominated by bacon, eggs and sausages, it has been difficult to eat healthily during our adventure. I miss my raw oats in the mornings.
At 10:30 we headed out on a self-guided walking tour, making first for the Victoria State Library. The natural choice for a biker Gang, no? There on the fifth floor is a permanent exhibit on Ned Kelly, a Robin Hood-style anti-hero and Australia's answer to Canada's Louis Riel, and of about the same vintage.
The exhibit includes the iron suit he fashioned for his final shoot-out with the authorities. One of the signs in the exhibit mentioned that Ned Kelly was "a national icon with broad appeal, speaking to politician and biker...". Hey baby, you got that right!!
We continued our walking tour visiting the old Melbourne gaol (hey, when in a penal colony...) and the state parliament buildings, then Hector and I went to the Lightening Ridge Opal Mines shop to learn more about opals, where they explained that more than 90 percent of the world's supply comes from Australia.
We returned to our hotel for some respite from the day's heat, which reached 28 degrees C., then at 4:00 pm Dogcow joined us to plan and book our rooms for the next four days which will see us through Sydney.
For dinner we returned to the Southbank Promenade where we dined at the suitably-named South Bank Melbourne, another of the fun, trendy restaurants overlooking the Yarra River.
We stopped in for a nightcap at the Crown entertainment complex, a massive casino stretching two long blocks along the Promenade, with an adjoining hotel.
While in the sports bar there, we caught part of an NFL game between the NY Giants and the Denver Broncos. Reflecting on it, while I like the continuous, helter-skelter action of Australia-rules football, I prefer the orderly discipline and emphasis on execution of American football.
Tomorrow, we start to make our way the 1,000+ kms toward Sydney, but plan to spend two nights in smaller coastal towns and villages along the way.
I find Melbourne a highly agreeable city, combining the best of, say, Toronto and Vancouver. It is large, sophisticated, attractive, trendy and well-ordered - including free trams in the downtown core! I would return here anytime.
Tuesday, October 17th - with a relatively light riding day ahead of us, we left the Great Southern Hotel at 7:30 am making for Mallacoota on the northeast coast of Victoria.
Throughout the day temperatures bounced around from a tad-coolish 20 degrees C. to a starting-to-get-uncomfortable 30.
Getting out of Melbourne was made ugly first by some kind of emergency services incident on Flinders Street which took 15 minutes to clear, then by the morning rush hour congestion which took another hour to clear through Melbourne's suburbs.
Then the Garmin started acting up, taking us off the M1 into adjacent rural towns and villages for no apparent reason. After a few hours, at Lakes Entrance, we finally cleared most of the traffic and entered the Australian Alps, which provided wonderful riding through winding roads on rolling hills which to me somehow seemed to be constantly descending.
As we approached Mallacoota on the A1, it was once again acting up and tried to take us down an erroneous road, the intersection of which which was unfortunately for Dogcow covered in an unusually large amount of dark, hard-to-see gravel. Although it was at slow speed, in an instant Dogcow's GS was down, on its side, with him labouring to get his leg clear.
After positioning our bikes free of the roadway, Hector and I lifted Dogcow's GS upright, made sure he was still functioning physically, then we reversed course a few hundred metres to find the correct route into Mallacoota which lay at the end of a side road a couple of dozen kilometres off the A1.
Partway along the road into Mallacoota, Hector waved us over after noticing something wrong with Dogcow's left pannier: it had been knocked off its moorings and was hanging precariously from the side of his bike.
As we worked on the problem at the side of the road, after a few minutes some Victoria state police showed up in an SUV offering to help, which we accepted. They took Dogcow's pannier plus a bolt requiring a missing cotter pin (or the equivalent), and agreed to meet us in Mallacoota a few kilometres down the road.
We found our way to our rented cabin for the night and before we could finish booking into the place the police showed up with a new cotter pin for Dogcow's pannier and the older of the two immediately assumed the lead role in getting the problem sorted for us, using tools provided from our own supply as well as the landlady's husband.
After 25 minutes of hammering, bending, screwing, vice-gripping, bail-wiring, and other techniques, Dogcow's pannier was good to go. As for the police, I have never seen such a clear example of service above and beyond the call of duty; the two officers involved deserve a commendation.
Dogcow secured an ice pack for his bruised ankle from our landlady, Sue, then Hector and I went to the local jar store to obtain some general anesthetic to assist Dogcow's recovery.
Eventually we took dinner at the local tavern, a 400 metre walk from our cabin. There we met Isobel, a young Australian who had worked in Canada under a 2-year work visa, including at the Sun Peaks resort near Kamloops in British Columbia.
After dinner we stopped in the adjoining bar for a nightcap where we met several Australian men, one of whom was an older gentleman who said he had seen a lot of Australia. He was clearly impressed and enthused about our Near-complete circumnavigation accomplishment over the prior four weeks and said as much. It finally felt like we had met someone who actually understood what we had done.
Walking back from the tavern in the dark on our street, we suddenly noticed a troop of five kangaroos, including some good-sized ones, standing on the boulevard not ten meters away from us. This was more live kangaroos than we had seen at any previous time during our trip. 518 kms.
Wednesday, October 18th - with another light riding day ahead of us, about 300 kms to Bateman Bay on the east coast of New South Wales, we left our tidy little cabin in Mallacoota at 10:00 am with Sue, our landlady, and Ian, her partner, bidding us farewell.
The weather was fine throughout the day, with temperatures again ranging from the low- to high-20s, more or less perfect riding temperatures.
After rejoining the Princes Highway (A1), it wasn't long before we crossed into New South Wales. The terrain continued as rolling hills, but became dryer with more sage grasses despite periodic vistas of the Pacific Ocean far off to the east.
As we traveled toward our target for the day, we came across some attractive coastal villages, any one of which would make for an agreeable retirement location. And our ultimate destination, Bateman Bay, fit this bill as well, featuring large seaside parks and fine views of the Pacific Ocean.
Upon arriving at the Kon Tiki Inn we were met by the proprietress, an affable but disciplined woman around our age, who pushed her pet shitzu, Miss Molly, around in a pram.
Despite this odd behaviour, I wouldn't really describe her as eccentric. She was on top of her game and the well-appointed, 2-bedroom suite we occupied for the night reflected her attention to detail.
We took dinner at the award-winning steakhouse two doors up the street where Hector and I enjoyed the barramundi with prawns, with Hector relishing the mashed potatoes, of which there has been little in Australia since the default option always seems to be "chips" (French fries) here. 300 kms exactly.
Digression #3: The Stench of Death
I've heard that phrase often enough over the years - in movies, books, or perhaps even in documentaries or newscasts - but I never truly understood its meaning until I rode through The Outback in temperatures approaching 40 degrees C.
I have been blessed by living a life spared from direct exposure to war, famine, plague or other natural or man-made calamities that cause death, so have never had significant exposure to the smell of rotting flesh.
And I certainly avoided any profession - doctor, nurse, mortician, fireman, homicide detective, highway patrolman, paramedic, etc. - that would bring me into frequent contact with the dead or dying.
Even including open-casket funerals, I think the number of human corpses I've seen in my life might be numbered on one hand.
And as far as dead animals are concerned, the closest I usually come to them is visiting the meat counter at the local grocery store.
So the smell of death was completely foreign to me - until I traveled through The Outback.
The amount of roadkill there boggles the mind: wallabies, kangaroos, wombats, birds, reptiles...sadly, I think I even saw a koala. And in high-30s temperatures, it doesn't take long for decay to set in with its accompanying putrid smell.
By contrast, in Canada there is not only less roadkill, but with its generally milder temperatures there is a slower rate of decay and less off-gassing.
Unlike some other things, the stench of death is not really something to which I eventually became inured. The smell was as bad the 250th time as it was the first.
Sometimes you could see the roadkill in advance, especially if the carrion birds were feeding on it, which meant if you were quick-witted enough (which often I wasn't because of the psychically-depressive heat), you could hold your breath for a few seconds before and after encountering the carcass, bypassing the stench.
Other times, the carcass was already largely decayed, so only a small amount of rotting, off-gassing flesh remained. In those instances, the smell was but a whiff of death.
Still other times, the carcass had been thrown by the initial impact into brush on the side of the road, rendering it invisible to passersby. In those cases, the stench came up suddenly and without warning, so there was no defence against it.
Death, and the stench of it...a plague on our times, and all others.
Thursday, October 19th - we said our goodbyes to Miss Molly, the shitsu, and left our agreeable room at the Kon Tiki Inn in Batemans Bay around 9:30 am with a relatively short riding day ahead of us with less than 300 kms into Sydney.
The ambient temperature started out in the comfortable mid-20s C. but climbed into the less comfortable high-20s as the day wore on.
The road was again windy as we passed through coastal hills. Not long after leaving Batemans Bay the Princes Highway (A1) broadens out into a four lane divided highway, and around Wollongong, almost 100 kms south of Sydney, it joins the M1 motorway.
During this and the past couple of days we have passed hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of motorcyclists traveling south on the Princes Highway. We learned that they are traveling down to Phillip Island, southeast of Melbourne, for the 2017 Australian Motorcycle Grand Prix this upcoming weekend. I'm sure many of them thought it odd that we were heading in the wrong direction!
Garmin did a credible job of leading us through a convoluted series of streets and turns to arrive at our hotel, the Ibis on the west side of Sydney's famous Darling Harbour. For an extra $20, I decided to upgrade to a room with a Harbour view.
After we washed up, we went for a walk around the Harbour, crossing the Pyrmont pedestrian bridge then headed up the esplanade and across the CBD toward the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Circular Quay, over three kilometres distant.
Part way along, Dogcow reminded us that he was still nursing a sore ankle from his spill earlier in the week, so we instead headed back to the Harbour for a bite and some happy hour drinks at one of the many trendy bars and restaurants along the esplanade.
For dinner we went to the pub at the nearby Pyrmont Bridge Hotel, a rambling heritage structure that is quaint but has seen better days.
After dinner we did some work on our blog, then called it a night, looking forward to taking a water taxi to the Circular Quay the following day. 274 kms.
Friday, October 20th - GO4's luck ran a little thin today as Sydney experienced an impressive day-long rain storm that broke a 76-day dry spell, the longest recorded in 29 years.
Ever resourceful, the Gang of Four took advantage of the situation by buying half-off "rain day" tickets for a Yellow water taxi which took us from Darling Harbour around to the Circular Quay, several kilometres distant. There were only the three of us as passengers.
Along the way, the taxi captain, Jason, a former chef who harks from New Jersey (immigrated to Australia a dozen years ago), stopped in the harbour northwest of the Sydney Harbour Bridge for a photo op, since at that particular location the Bridge frames the architecturally renowned Sydney Opera House.
Upon arriving Circular Quay, docked coincidentally in port was the Celebrity Solstice, a giant cruise ship on which Hector and his better half, Marcia, will be cruising to Melbourne and New Zealand in just over a week's time. From the Quay, we walked back across the CBD toward Darling Harbour, with Hector and Dogcow ultimately peeling off to shop for souvenirs.
Late in the afternoon, I hoofed it back from the Ibis to the CBD for a couple of beers with my fast friend, Robert Ingui, whom I met on the approach to Leon, Spain while walking the Camino de Santiago in May 2016. Fully reflecting Australia's national culture, he was both gracious and gregarious during our fun-but-far-too-short visit; I hope we can get together again soon.
For supper I met up with Hector and Dogcow at the Hunter and Barrel, a steakhouse across Darling Harbour from our Ibis Hotel. The food was very good, the ambience was highly agreeable, but our server was a disaster, aggressively trying to up-sell us on our wine selection and persistently invading our space with his annoying, affected, haughty mannerisms.
When the time came to pay the bill, he asked Hector for a "gratuity". Hector declined, a decision I fully supported: he was singularly the worst server I have encountered in a handful of decades.
We retired early in anticipation of a moderate-length ride tomorrow of more than 500 kms up to Coffs Harbour on New South Wales' northeast coast.
Saturday, October 21st - we departed the Ibis at 7:00 am, in my case thankful as I suddenly realized we were leaving Sydney on a Saturday morning, which meant no weekday rush hour. But I was surprised at the number of vehicles on the roads on a Saturday morning at 7:00 am! Although the traffic flowed reasonably well, it still took us more than half an hour to clear the City's congestion, finally hitting open country on the M1.
Parts of the M1 were truly impressive, with rights-of-way blown by dynamite though massive mountain spurs to make way for the roadway. Some of the cuts measured what appeared to be over one hundred feet (30 meters) in height! Seeing them made me truly appreciate the efforts that engineers and tradespeople put into building our roads. Unfortunately though, there was a fair amount of road construction along the way which slowed our progress.
Temperatures throughout the day ranged in the mid-teens, requiring thermal liners and then, after encountering moderate-to-heavy rains, our waterproof liners. The riding was uneventful, mostly four-lane divided highway (dual carriageway), basically the same idea as our freeways. At times it felt like we were riding along one of the large American interstate highways.
At Nabiac, we stopped in to see Australia's national motorcycle museum. I don't think any of us was chaffing at the bit to see it, but it seemed to dishonour the sport if we didn't, especially since it was only a few blocks away from where we were gassing up. Moreover, there was a native Australian motorcyclist at the gas station who gave us directions to help keep us honest!
We pulled into our somewhat dated but otherwise finely appointed two-bedroom apartment at the Bentleigh Motor Inn in Coffs Harbour and, after washing up, went to the local pub for dinner. I enjoyed a passable lamb shank, Hector a pasta dish, and Dogcow a perfect steak after which we watched a rugby test match on the large tavern TV between the Wallabies from Australia and All Blacks from New Zealand. Tomorrow we head for Surfer's Paradise on the Gold Coast. 528 kms.
Digression #4: On Water-led Economic Development
Near Kyancutta, about halfway across the Eyre Penninsula on the A1, we pulled into a rest stop on the side of the highway. When we got off the bikes, lo and behold there was a small, foot-high historical marker that had initially gone unnoticed by Dogcow; he had inadvertently broken his own vow to himself!
​
The brass plate was labelled “Goyder’s Line”, and it went on to explain that in 1868 the Surveyor-General for South Australia, George Woodroof Goyder, had drawn a line crossing though this point to indicate “the limits of lands considered safe for agricultural development”. He had arrived at this determination after analyzing the most northerly reach of rainfalls occurring during a recent drought.
​
Seeing this reminded me of a conversation I had had with Geoff Edwards back in Queensland at the beginning to the trip. To paraphrase, Geoff had suggested to me that the social, economic and political history of Australia was largely driven by the realities of water availability and scarcity.
We have a similar concept in Canada surrounding “staples”, a theory developed in the mid-20th century by a renowned Canadian economic historian, Harold Innes. His idea was that Canada’s social, economic and political history is largely the result of the export over the centuries of different kinds of raw commodities, starting with the cod fishery on the east coast, fur pelts further inland, wheat in the Prairies, and timber, coal and minerals further west. The resulting patterns of economic development went on to substantially influence the overall demographics as well as the social and political culture of the country.
While the staples theory arguably has some applicability to Australia, I couldn’t help but think that water – its availability and scarcity – may be an even bigger factor. After all, outside Antarctica, Australia is the world’s driest continent, and about 85 percent of Australians choose to live within 50 kilometers of the coast.
It is also one of the most urbanized large countries in the world, with almost 90 percent of its population living in urban centres, presumably reflecting the need for reliable sources of water for human consumption. But of course, agriculture and many other industries are also highly water-dependent.
After passing through The Outback including the Nullarbor Plain, and seeing the vast expanses of desert scrublands as well as the large number of dried-up river and creek beds – approaching 100 percent of them in many areas – it became clear to me just how transitory the supply of water is in much of Australia. Even Australia’s longest river, the Murray, has been known to run dry during severe droughts. To me, this all indicates just how much water availability (or lack thereof) could have shaped the economic, social and political history of the continent.
Sunday, October 22nd - after awakening, we belatedly realized that we would be gaining an hour when we passed into Queensland today, so with a short ride of just over 300 kms ahead of us, we dilly-dallied at the Bentleigh Motor Inn in Coffs Harbour until shortly after 10:00 am, then went to a trendy restaurant near the waterfront for breakfast.
The Australians make what has to be some of the best bacon on the planet, similar to what we call back bacon in Canada, but for them it is the standard fare, and it's delicious! The problem is that I've had so much of it here that I don't have the stomach for it anymore. I look forward to having it again when I return to this country some day, but for now I'm baconed out!
Meanwhile, it's a running joke between us that Hector has been unable to find pancakes in the five weeks he's been here. To be fair, there have been a select few restaurants, mainly in the larger cities, offering pancakes, but in general they are rarer than hens teeth in Australia.
I'm thinking the market could be ripe for a chain of International House of Pancakes franchises in Australia, but Dogcow claims there must be a reason they're not here. We don't know what it might be, but certainly caution is in order after the cautionary example of Starbucks' initial failure in the Australian market.
Most of the A1 was dual carriageway today, but there continued to be a significant amount of road construction where the highway narrowed to only two lanes with many 80 kph or slower zones, which slowed our progress. Temperatures ranged in the low- to mid-20s, about optimal for riding a motorcycle.
From South Grafton to Tyndale in New South Wales, the A1 follows the Clarence River through unusually attractive farm country including some sugar cane plantations. What made it especially beautiful was the lush green pastures, made verdant by recent rains, punctuated by the vibrant - indeed, almost luminescent - purple blossoms of jacaranda trees along the way, all against the backdrop of an intense blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Personally, I thought it might be the most beautiful scenery I've seen during the entire trip.
Once again Garmen led us capably to our accommodation for the night, the modern Island Boutique Hotel in Surfers Paradise, where we watched the final race of the Melbourne MotoGP competition. I was dismayed to learn that the motorcycle riders competing in such races travel at more than 300 kph along the straightaways. I frankly can't imagine it!
After the race we went for a walk to the beach and esplanade, discovered a competent local live band playing upstairs at the Surf Life Saving Club, enjoyed a beer while listening to them, then went for Mexican food at the The Aztec Montezuma restaurant near our hotel, the taste of which proved a tad underwhelming.
Tomorrow our journey winds to an end as we return our bikes to the Bike Round Oz depot in Alexandra Hills, a suburb of Brisbane, where we picked them up five adventurous weeks ago. 320 kms.
Monday, October 23rd - we left the Island Boutique Hotel in Surfer's Paradise just before 10:00 am and immediately hit significant traffic congestion due in part to fan traffic associated with a Gold Coast auto race.
Next, before hitting the M1 for Brisbane, a heavy lightening and rain storm broke out immediately overhead causing us to take refuge under the canopy of a Coles gas station.
Eventually the storm moderated enough for us to continue and we rode the 80 kms or so into Brisbane where we dropped off our bags at our respective hotels. I chose the Best Western Astor again given its proximity to Central Station and the Airport Line, which I would be taking the next morning. Hector and Dogcow, who would be staying several days in Brisbane, opted instead for the Ibis on Elizabeth Street, 1.3 kms away from the Astor.
Lightened of our luggage, we made our way out to the Bike Round Oz depot in Alexandra Hills, stopping for lunch at a roadside tavern along the way.
Christine met us, inspected the bikes for damage (they passed muster), recorded the mileage, and then drove us to the local train station in Cleveland so we could make our way back into the City.
Weirdly, my odometer read exactly 44,000 kms, and during the trip we put on exactly 15,400 kms, which is exactly what Dogcow had estimated it would be a day or two earlier. Very weird how those numbers worked out.
We got back to our respective hotels around 5:30 pm where I repacked by bags for tomorrow's flight, washed up, then walked down to the Ibis to meet up with Dogcow and Hector for dinner.
We settled on the Communal Bar and Eat House, close by to the Brisbane River, where we enjoyed a bottle of sparkling wine to celebrate our circumnavigation achievement.
After dinner we checked out the very large neoclassical structure opposite the restaurant which turned out to be the magnificent but sadly under-utilized Treasury Casino & Hotel, a huge heritage building which formerly housed the state treasury (department of finance) for Queensland.
We wrapped up the evening with a nightcap at Irish Murphy's Pub, which bills itself as a "drinking consultancy", located on the corner of Elizabeth and George Streets. It featured a guitarist/singer whose natural voice range was too high for my liking, so we didn't stay long.
We walked back along Elizabeth Street to the Ibis, bade our farewells, and I ventured back to the Astor mentally readying myself for my flight back to Vancouver tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 24th - decamped from the Astor at 7:15 am, trundled the 200 meters down to Central Station with my heavy dry and sports bags, found my way to the Airport Line and, after a minor cock-up with the train service requiring a switch to another train, arrived at Brisbane Airport's international terminal in plenty of time for my 10:40 am flight. Oddly, due to the international date line, I left Brisbane on a Tuesday at 10:40 am and arrived in Vancouver the same Tuesday at 6:35 am.
After an uneventful flight, Mary picked me up at Vancouver International and we made our way to Horseshoe Bay for the ferry voyage to Vancouver Island where we will be taking up temporary residence at the Madrona Resort in Parksville, which features a beautiful vista overlooking the Strait of Georgia and the BC Mainland. 12,000+ kms, mostly by plane.