Australia, all of it (pretty much) - Arse About Face
 

Inspired somewhat after reading 'BaldBaBoon's account of his antics in Oz, I remembered that I'd never posted my own account of the 44,347km I covered in Australia. Calling in at all the most extreme geographical points as well. (N, S, E, W and dead centre).

These entries were originally written on my blog and were intended more as missives home, rather than an actual ride-tale, so you'll have to forgive the style!

Anyway, on with it!

Entry 1
 

Lights will guide you home...
Originally published: 17th June 2006

...although in my case I'm also hoping a couple of pilots and a very large aeroplane will be involved as well.

So here I am in Western Australia. Armadale to be precise, just outside the city of Perth. Not a great deal to report as I've been spending most of my time pretending to be a web-designer. Not doing too bad a job too, even if I do say so myself. All this work does have a purpose (what work hasn't?), the fruits of my labour will be one of these: Which I will then proceed to take on a grand and frankly rather insane expedition around this:

Entry 2
 

Act two, scene one...
Originally published: 29th August 2006

...finds the hero of this tale somewhere else. So instead, I'll have write something...

Returned, briefly to the UK for a good friends wedding, also took the time to spend copious amounts of money on bike gear.


Managed to get myself completely kitted out with motorcycle equipment (see above, very dashing image) while I've been back, so I'll be ready to get on with adventuring as soon as I return to Australia. I'm hopefully due to fly out at the end of August. (Terrorist plots / acts of random paranoia permitting of course)





Other than a very short blast on a bike in New Zealand last year, I've not really ridden a bike since I passed my test! I'm sure it'll all come flooding back though. Just keep the round black rubber things in contact with the ground as much as possible I reckon, what could possibly go wrong?!




Oh, I always do all my reading in full bike gear, it erm...aids the concentration, yes that's it.

Entry 3
 

Go go Gadget cartographer!
Originally published: 24th October 2006



That, dear friends is what we in the business call 'bloody stupid', but I'm doing it anyway. That should hopefully give those that are interested a general outline of the route I shall shortly be embarking on (honest!) The only 'iffy' bits are the Cape York area, which is outlined as the toughest 4x4 track in Australia and involves many, many river crossings, the Gibb River Road and the Great Central Road as the distance between fuel stops may be stretching the bikes capacity somewhat. Still, there's only one way to find out! Of course it's not set in stone and I'm sure there will be alterations to the route as I travel around.

Work here in Perth is rapidly nearing completion and the final items of kit have just arrived in the post.
Gadgets! Gotta love em.





Hopefully I'll never have to use the EPIRB (Emergency Position-Indicating Radio Beacon), but it's good to be prepared for any eventuality. Plus of course it's another outdoorsie-type gadget, and you can never have enough of those.


I've decided to try and catch the train from Perth over to Melbourne via Adelaide, it'll be an interesting trip and it's only slightly more expensive than getting a direct flight. It does mean sitting in a train for about four days, but if nothing else it can be training (har har) for the buttocks in preparation for spending umpteen months in the saddle. I've also decided not to cut my hair as a scientific and social experiment, nothing to do with laziness honest. It will also answer the question that has been plaguing the minds of scholars everywhere across the globe...How much of a muppet will I look with long hair?


Also on this trip I will probably be addressing these important questions:

How long can you wear one pair of socks before they become self-aware?
Just what does a didgeri do? (aha! I crack myself up)
Just how deep a river can you cross on a motorbike before you float away?
What does a pie-floater taste like?
Is the duck-billed platypus taking the mick? I mean honestly it's a beaver with a prosthetic nose!


I will hopefully NOT be answering any of these questions:

What is it like to float away down a river on a motorbike?
What is it like to share a sleeping bag with any number of bitey and rather toxic insects?
Do crocodiles take good care of their teeth?
Any pressing questions you want answering, feel free to send them in! :-)
Ahh...the things I do for science...

Entry 4
 

Thomas the tanked up engine...
Originally published: 25th November 2006

OK, slight delay in execution of my plan to depart Perth. Erm...the train was full. Who would've thought? So the below post still applies, it'll just be one Sunday later than originally planned.

Just a short update this one as there isn't a lot to write about. Will hopefully be boarding the 'Indian Pacific' service from Perth tomorrow. 2659km and three nights later I will arrive in Adelaide and swap the 'Indian Pacific' for the shorter run of 'The Overland' service, a mere 828km to Melbourne. Bottom numbing stuff!

Once in Melbourne I will finally be united with the bike and I can get on my way and start providing a mobile buffet for all the flies in Australia. Seriously you can't stand still for more than a few seconds without a gaggle of flies making a 'bee-line' (aha!) for your ears, eyes and nose. I think I'll just take to wearing the bike helmet everywhere. Might get a few strange looks down the beach though.

Entry 5
 

Sand on the tracks and other such excuses...
Originally published: 16th December 2006



Spent an interesting couple of nights camping out in the mountains of the Grampians, letting my imagination run-wild about what horrendous beasties could be making all that noise in the middle of the night. I also started one morning (or not started, depending on your point of view) with a flat battery. Could find no reason for it at all, so I just hoped it was a temporary occurrence. I spent the next 45mins puffing and panting my way up and down a couple of hills in an eventually successful attempt to bump-start the bike.


So, not going into too much detail (as this is costing a fortune in internet fees), I now find myself in a town called Mount Gambier. I came here for one reason mainly, which was to look at a long-range fuel tank a fellow had for sale. I had a look, it would do the job, so I bought it. (thanks ma and pa for the early Xmas prezzie!) This has upped the fuel range of Gosling 1 quite considerably, and I now have one less thing to worry about when touring in the outback.


I even managed to fit the thing myself, with a few bits of free fuel hose from the local bike shop in Mount Gambier. Honestly, I have evidence:

Entry 6
 

There's a Beyonce in my helmet...
Originally published: 21st December 2006

Shame she's not real though. Not much worse than having a tune you don't know the words to stuck in your head while riding a motorbike. Heavens knows why Beyonce was in there... well I'm sure there were a few reasons, but they probably weren't musical.

No pictures this time round as it's just a short one to wish everybody that happens along this blog a very happy festive season. I'm heading down towards 'Kangaroo Island' for Xmas and probably new year as well, so it's unlikely I'll be able to do a proper update until after I get back. Will hopefully have some good photos by then though.

Bike is running well, coping with the heat (a mere 38deg yesterday) much better than I. Riding isn't so bad as long as you keep moving, prepare to sweat buckets when it comes to putting up a tent though.

Entry 7
 

What do you get if you cross a duck and a cat?
Originally published: 29th December 2006

A duck filled fattypuss! Ahah ha, I crack myself up. But seriously, Duck Billed Platypus (platypusses, platypi, whatever), they're cool and I've seen one. Add to that the Echidna I saw a few days back and I've chalked up two of the worlds five monotremes (that's egg laying mammals to you normal people), now to find the other three...



Anyway enough of my prodigious wildlife spotting abilities. Seasons greetings from Penneshaw on Kangaroo Island, or as I have come to know it 'Corrugation Island', due to the state of the unpaved roads. Talk about turn your bones to jelly...

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the island... There I was waiting for the ferry at Cape Jervis when I got talking to a bunch of people that had just arrived on a Cagiva and another Yamaha. Thoroughly bloody nice bunch, and to cut a long story short I ended up spending Xmas day at their place on Kangaroo Island. Nice bunch this biking lot eh?


Kangaroo Island has just the one paved road, which runs in a continuous loop around the island taking in most of the major attractions. It's somewhat like a kangaroo based Jurassic Park. All the tour buses are practically on rails, dropping off hoards of people at all the notable points, only to swallow them up again an hour or so later. Needless to say I didn't spend a lot of time on said road, choosing the more jarring experience of the extensive network of gravel, rock and sand roads. Much more interesting, and a good old learning experience to boot.


Ended up in some great secluded locations, mainly on the coast (hence the plethora of beach-based photos). I also spent quite a bit of time in the Flinders Chase National Park, where I went hunting for the elusive Duck Billed Platypus, amongst other wild creatures. From my time in the park and on the island in general, I have been able to learn three valuable things about the wildlife here:

1) The young of the Echidna are called 'Puggles' which, quite frankly is bloody fantastic.

2) Your average Duck Billed Platypus will surface for slightly less time than it takes for a Sony digital camera to switch on, zoom in and focus. Which is rather infuriating, and led to many 'Nessie!' style blurry photos of said beastie.

3) The isolation of living on this island has driven all the Kangaroos to suicide, and they will attempt to end their lives as often as possible in front of a moving vehicle. Usually when you least expect it and conveniently timed to cause maximum swearing.


Best camping spot would have to be West Bay, funnily enough on the far western shores. Marvellously secluded and a fantastic beach to boot, and it takes a lot to impress me when it comes to beaches. Coming a close second is the Cape Gantheaume Wilderness area on the south eastern edge, although the road leading there leaves quite a lot to be desired. I'm sure I have a photo around here somewhere, ah yes...


As for West Bay, check it out:
So I'm scheduled to leave tomorrow (30th), and will have to decide where to go from there. After talking it through with a few people and reading up a bit more, I have decided to save the 'Ooodnadatta Track' and the 'Great Central Road' for a bit later on in my trip. Mainly because now (Jan - Mar) is the hottest time of year in the middle, and I mean melt-your-tyres hot, not just "ooh that's a bit warm". That fact combined with Gosling One only being air-cooled (and me too come to think of it), and I have decided to delay that section to the 'shoulder season' when temperatures should be slightly less mechanically destructive.

However, that means I have a bit more time to bimble round the southern regions of Australia before heading west, so I feel a trip to Tasmania coming on. Not only is it VERY south, it'll also mean I'll be biking round every state in Australia. Score!

Now for some pictures:

Entry 8
 

He said "let there be stodge", and there was stodge
Originally published: 2nd January 2007

And lo, the traveller did combine the hallowed elements... two minute noodles with a cup-a-soup, and there was much revulsion.

Entry 9
 

A devil of a tale...
Originally published: 28th January 2007

Three weeks round Tasmania and only a single blog update, all my loyal readers (all three of you) have my heartfelt apologies. Although in my defence, internet access over here costs a kings ransom, and I had an expensive couple of days to begin with.

Allow me to elaborate...

As soon as I rolled off the ferry, I rolled straight into (not literally) the local Yamaha dealership in order to get the drive chain replaced on Gosling One.



Where the route was level it was fairly easy to weave in and out of the ruts and around the larger boulders. Where it got a bit more interesting was the ascent up the side of a mountain (and I'm talking steep), where the weight on the back of the back actually probably helped; and the descent down said mountain, where the weight on the back definitely did not help at all!



The track leading down was washed out by rain water, strewn with really rather large boulders and edged with slippery gravel and smaller rocks. This led to a slow and teeth clenched descent in first gear, with the rear wheel locking up most of the time as I tried to stop the bike running away down the hill. Of course, inevitably it went wrong. Although just the once! A bout of swearing, a few bruises and one hell of a workout picking up the bike on that slope later, and I was out! Felt rather chuffed with myself I must admit.

On checking the odometer whilst gathering my shattered nerves together at the bottom, it turned out I had covered about 24km in about 2 hours! Definitely an interesting, if not speedy route to take.

Feeling pleased with myself I took a bath in the River Mersey as I was passing.


http://members.home.nl/ramonbeschi

I also met my first live snake since being in Australia. Which to date makes three, count em three in total. All were Tiger snakes, so named because they can scare the bejesus out of tigers, they're that 'ard. Not really, but apparently they're ludicrously poisonous, and not at all scared of me it would seem.


I'd also like to mention that in true Australia summer behaviour, it snowed yesterday for about 15mins as I was riding back towards Devonport via the Central Plateux region. Seriously, it was so cold i've only just today started to get some feeling back in my fingers. Nothing like a bit of variety to keep you on your toes!

Jumping on the ferry tonight back to Melbourne, then it's west for me, over towards Adelaide, the Nullarbour Desert and Perth.

So, to sum up my time in Tasmania I present a little selections of images, as I've probably written enough for now. (anyone still reading this?)

Enjoy! (No sniggering at the back)


http://www.arseaboutface.com/journal.../gordondam.jpg
The Gordon Dam, bloody high up and also bloody windy. (Not the dam itself of course, but the area in general)

UPDATE: The Tasmania leg of my trip is the basis for a feature due to appear in Adventure Bike Rider magazine. Welcome to Adventure Bike Rider. Issue 4, due out the end of March 2011.

Read it, it'll be great, trust me.

Entry 10
 

Give me your money or else...
Originally published: 9th February 2007

... you'll probably spend it on something you don't really need anyway. Actually it's not me that's after it, it's MSF or Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders, to my American friends)

That's about it for now. I'll be going 'Mad Max' for a bit while I cross the desert to Perth, but with any luck I'll be able to avoid the Toecutter and the rest of his daggy gang mates.

Entry 11
 

My kingdom for a physio...
Originally published: 19th February 2007

Quick, call me a physiotherapist!

First person to leave a comment reading "You're a physiotherapist" gets a slap if I'm ever actually able to raise my arms again. :)

Just a quick one this time to report a successful traverse of the umpteen-million-squillion kilometres that is the Eyre Highway. Once again I am unable to upload pictures at the moment, as they have apparently only just discovered the wheel here in Esperance. But rest assured they are on the way!

I'm currently stuck with walking a bit like John Wayne as pretty much everything aches. Especially the posterior. Battling silly winds, immense trucks (and truckers) and various other unpleasant things, left the old body a tad worn out.

Thanks to all that have donated so far. It all goes straight to MSF, so don't think I'm running around spending it all on pies or anything like that.

I'm off for a bit of a lie down...

Entry 12
 

Desert? I'd rather have a dessert thanks very much
Originally published: 20th February 2007

I've come to the conclusion that there isn't a great deal of point to writing a great long post about crossing the Nullarbor Desert, because, well... there isn't that much to write about. It's long, VERY long, and also incredibly dull.

I got myself suitably energised before setting off on day one however:



Which generally led to most of the first day being a caffeine induced bender, something akin to playing a video game, only without the comfy chair and cup of tea.




There were a few opportunities to get off the highway and view a few sights, such as the Great Australian Bight. Or as I have now come to know it, the 'Great Australian Blight' (of flies). I also got the chance to play storm-trooper in the desert at the ruins of the Eucla Telegraph Station:


At a place called 'Belladonia' there was a dotted line marked as 4WD only, which cut across the 'Arid National Park', and down towards Esperance. This effectively was an alternative route to my destination. Being 1WD I figured I could probably make it. Standing up on the footpegs after sitting down for the last 1200KM was certainly a welcome relief!


Just east of Belladonia is the 2nd longest straight stretch of road in the world, or something like that. Not that you'd notice, it's just like the rest of the highway. Although, just my luck...roadworks! On the longest bit of straight road, it appeared to me as though they were installing a corner, just for a bit of laugh.


Mind numbing, arse numbing and a lot of other numbings to boot. That about sums up the journey really. Still, I'm back in Western Australia baby. Woo!

Extra piccies from the first couple of days:

Entry 13
 

Australia, now with dual-cyclone power!
Originally published: 9th March 2007

Never worry about emptying your dustbag ever again with the new model of Australia, with 'Dual Cyclone Power!'. Most probably because your dustbag, hoover, living room and entire house have been blown away.



Yes that's right folks, the northern end of Western Australia, and most of the Northern Territory is currently getting the stuffing kicked out of it by cyclone 'George' and cyclone 'Jacob'. The gruesome twosome are having a ball up there, wrecking towns, smashing up ships, upsetting peoples hair and generally doing cyclonic things. (That Dyson bloke has a lot to answer for)


That's about it for now. Coming soon (with any luck), will be an actual front-page to Arse About Face - 44347km (27556 miles) around Australia by Motorcycle - Book coming soon!. Hopefully it'll lend a bit of credibility to my fund-raising efforts, and get some more donations rolling in. Also coming soon (I swear!), is a proper photo gallery with a nice big selection of photos.

Watch this space. {------} <----That space right there, go on watch it...I dare you.



A smattering of pictures for you:

Entry 14
 

If it aint broke, fix it until it is...
Originally published: 22nd March 2007



So I've been spending the last week or so splitting my time between working to top up the petrol fund, and working on the bike to get all the niggles sorted out. Despite the fact that I didn't have much of a clue about working on the bike; a bit of common sense, a downloaded workshop manual (in Spanish mind you) and a large lump hammer saw me through.





Had a bit of occasional help from a fellow that knew his way around an engine though, so that helped head off any major dramas. Nothing like pulling apart the front suspension, and having the probably very vital parts spring out of the fork and roll under a car. Cue lots of swearing and grovelling under said vehicle.

All in all though, it went pretty well. No bits left over when I stuck it all back together either, which is always a good sign I reckon.

I managed to stick together a quick website for Arse About Face - 44347km (27556 miles) around Australia by Motorcycle - Book coming soon! With any luck it'll help persuade people that visit to donate, and that I'm not faking it all. I also took the plunge and made a little introductory video. Not very good in front of a camera, but I decided as it was for charity I would make the effort, even if I did feel a total gooseberry.

Check it out at Arse About Face - 44347km (27556 miles) around Australia by Motorcycle - Book coming soon! (click on the cinema ticket) I put it up on YouTube as I figured there were a hell of a lot of people using that site, and if even only a couple of them watched it and decided it donate, it'd be a good thing.

So spread the word oh yea faithful few readers!

Updates from the road will be coming soon, once I'm back on the road (or non-road as the case may be) of course.

Entry 15
 

Tally ho, chocks away etc etc...
Originally published: 2nd April 2007

Right then! Gosling One is all put back together, and rather remarkably still resembles a motorcycle. Fuel fund is topped up a bit, so hopefully it'll last me all the way round the rest of Australia. Food is packed in the panniers, although I can't say I'm looking forward to pasta meals again for the next few months, I miss fresh veg! I am looking forward to instant mash though, that stuff is truly the food of gods, and lazy motorcyclists.

Heading up north from Perth, hugging the coast to Exmouth, then East towards Darwin, along the Gibb River Road. (aka 700km of dust, corrugations, rocks, potholes and river crossings - waterwings on standby!)

Keep your peepers peeled for the next update!

Entry 16
 

Shock and ore...
Originally published: 17th April 2007

...iron ore that is.

Sorry, been spending a lot of time in iron mining country and it's starting to affect my mind, as well as the colour of the bike and everything else I have with me. Everything has gone an interesting Tango orange. It's the new black, trust me!

So, first post since the essential two week petrol/work break, and it's good to be back on the road again. My backside thinks differently however, the bike saddle certainly hasn't got any comfier while it has been off the road.

Put the bike back together and remarkably it all worked pretty much first time, nothing bounced off back down the highway as I set off from Perth at least; which I took to be a good omen. Sticking fairly close to the west coast it is pretty much the same monotonous landscape, all the way up to Exmouth. There were a few exceptions such as the Pinnacles, Shark Bay etc, but mostly it was beach after beach after beach, paradise you would think? I'm not much of a 'beach person' to be honest, as I think I mentioned before; so I found myself getting a bit fed up with all the bloody beaches after a while. Never get bored with the scantily clad young ladies you tend to find populating beaches though, so there is an upside to everything!

Called in to see the 'famous' Dolphins at Monkey Mia, as it is apparently against the law drive past without stopping; judging by the visitor numbers at least.

While I was in the area I thought I'd bury the bike in the sand, to see if it made a good castle substitute. Decided not, as it doesn't have the requisite number of turrets to be a proper castle.


This was the point I gave up in my attempt to reach 'Steep Point' (the most westerly point on mainland Oz). Loads of suitable excuses, but the best one is that it was the Easter holidays at the time, and all the passing 4x4s had churned the track into 30km of deep, deep sand. After getting stuck for the first three times, I decided my sanity deserved a break and I turned around. Good job too actually, as it started chucking it down with rain soon after. I'll be back to conquer that bit later though!

Exmouth and the road leading to it (there is only one), are in a ludicrously harsh and unforgiving section of the 'Pilbara' region of Australia. Similar landscape to that of the Nullarbour Desert actually, only with fewer trees. (if that is actually possible!) Aggressive heat, no trees at all and very limited water availability, meant it all got a little bit poetic on the ride north.

'Ode to a tree, by me':



Cook my brain, and it starts to come out with poetry. I think I need to get out of the heat more!

Exmouth is THE place to go swimming with Whale Sharks, or as the locals know them 'cash cows of the sea'. Everyone is in on the act, and all claim to be the 'world experts' on said beasties. Decided to take their words for it, as my budget definitely didn't stretch to the $400 for a 10 minute snifter. I contented myself with snorkelling on Ningaloo Reef and lurking at one of the more interesting beaches in the region.


From there I headed inland to the Karijini National Park, and the town of Tom Price. Iron ore mining country, complete with some fairly spectacular (and thankfully shady) gorges. Some of them even had trees, hooray! Grabbed a permit from the local mining company to ride up the 350km of their rail service road, as an interesting alternative to the highway. It was good fun as the track ran right alongside the railway, which was constantly in action. 2km long iron transport trains thundering along, with me riding alongside. Adrenaline charged stuff!

Have paused for a moment in Broome to get the bike a few presents, things like a new tyre and an oil change as she's been so well behaved recently. Might treat myself to a shower too. (Australia breathes a sigh of relief)

Lots of pictures below.


http://www.arseaboutface.com/journal...undownlake.jpg
Campsite before setting off for 'Steep Point' (not in the water obviously)

Entry 17
 

Das bike...
Originally published: 30th April 2007

A quick statistical rundown for you:

• Wheels left on bike: 2 (Excellent)
• Freshwater crocodile sightings: 7 (Good)
• Saltwater crocodile sightings: 1 (Good)
• Fingers remaining: 10 (Excellent)
• Toes remaining: 10 (Great!)
• Arms remaining: 2 (Spot on)
• Legs remaining: 3 (Fnaar!)
• Max number of rivers crossed in one day: 9 (Damp)
• Number of rivers I dropped the bike into: 0 (Mad skillz!)
• Number of working cameras in posses ion: 0 (Not photogenic)

After soaking up the tropical atmosphere of Broome for a few days, and kitting the bike out with a few bits and pieces (front sprocket, rear tyre and an oil change); it was time to get cracking on the Gibb River Road. "Oh no you bloody well don't!", cried the forces that were beyond my control. Turned out that due to a very wet last fortnight of the rainy season, a big chunk of the track was (and still is) closed. A big washout along the track, rivers running high and a closed roadhouse (read: no fuel), meant the only way to get along said track would be to overdose on Red Bull and grow wings.


Not being able to afford enough Red Bull, I decided to go around instead. This detour did mean that I got to experience the fun track into the Bungle Bungles National Park. The 50km long track into the park took about three hours to traverse, taking in all manner of hazards; including various river crossings. A chap watching me cross the 'Frank River' on the way in, managed to capture it on video, so hopefully I'll be able to upload that at some point!. It went surprisingly well, with Gosling 1 proving she has a submarine somewhere in her genetic makeup.



Getting out of the park didn't go quite as smoothly as going in, but I managed to make it with no major dramas. I only had to go with my emergency plan of "open the throttle and hope I fall off on dry land" once, and even then we managed to stay upright. Safely on the opposite bank I let the engine steam itself dry, as I emptied the rather concerned looking fish out of my boots. That's one of the problems with waterproof riding boots; they're fine as long as you don't have water up to your armpits, then they just tend to collect the damn stuff!

Squelched back onto the bike, and rode the final few km out of the park feeling as though I'd conquered the world. (Which is next on my list, so watch it)


So I'm currently in Darwin having a bit of a break from the road, and waiting for a part for the bike to come in. The nut that holds the front sprocket has disappeared somewhere along the way, I blame the knobber that put the new front sprocket on. Methinks I should've checked his handiwork more closely, but I was busy battling with the rear wheel at the time. Long story short, the only thing holding the front sprocket on, was the tension in the chain and a whole lotta luck.


Will get that one sorted out asap. and I'll do it myself this time! Not too many pictures this time as my camera is buggered (official technical term used by the bloke in the camera shop), so these were the ones I could salvage.

Entry 18
 

Wired...
Originally published: 8th May 2007

...or not, as is the case here.

Well I'm still stuck in Darwin, sans-camera, and more importantly, sans-motorcycle!


After resolving the first issue of the missing nut, I discovered a new one. A fault in one of the wires buried deep within the ignition system, which was causing the starter motor to fire constantly, even when the engine was running. This resulted in an annoying whining noise being emitted from the bike, and more worryingly the potential of a burnt out starter. Luckily I managed to limp round to the local bike place here in Darwin, where the problem was quickly diagnosed.


However, as usually happens with me and problems, it happened at the start of a three day weekend; hence my current status of being 'stuck' in Darwin. With any luck I should be picking up Gosling 1 today (Tuesday) at some point, so I'll be able to stave off the onset of cabin fever, and my growing desire to mow down the entire population of the town with a large machine gun.



To keep myself entertained I've trawled through my pictures to find a few more to post, which appear at the bottom of this text. Just a tip for any travellers arriving in Darwin: Don't stay at the 'Leprechaun Inn / Caravan Park' on the Stuart Highway. It's run by the most petty, small minded, self important and jumped up little Hitlers that I've ever had the misfortune to come across. There, my civic duty is done, consider yourselves warned.


Being stuck has meant that I've had a bit more time with the friends I made over in Broome, who recently arrived in Darwin; and I've also met two German couples, travelling from Germany to Australia over the course of a couple of years. They too are stuck without their bikes, as they are somewhere incarcerated within the bowels of a container ship, on their way here. A problem shared is a problem halved and all that!

Entry 19
 

Trip cancelled due to romantic involvement...
Originally published: 15th May 2007

...


....


Hah, gotcha! Actually I'm departing Australia for Singapore in order to renew my visa. With any luck it will take a maximum of one week. Then I can return and get the hell out of Darwin, and on with the expedition.

Damn this town gets me down. OK I'm off to wallow in self pity in the corner

Entry 20
 

I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go...
Originally published: 29th May 2007

..well, almost. I have returned triumphant from my visa renewal quest to Singapore and Malaysia, and have also unfortunately returned with a cold; courtesy of some smelly backpackers in Singapore.

My time in Singapore was spent mostly in a state of constant technogasm; wandering around marvelling at the huge range of technological gadgets and gizmos on offer. I actually encountered a grandmother of perhaps 90 years on the subway, simultaneously talking on her cellphone, listening to an MP3 player, and playing a puzzle game on a PSP; I was most impressed. Of course it's quite possible that she was a bit senile and thought she was still at home, wondering why the telly was showing nothing but stuff about the subway.

Malaysia was the exact opposite of Singapore, and it's also spelled quite differently. I spent most of my time in a town called Malacca / Melaka, attempting to master the Malay language. Most of my attempts were met with the sort of looks usually reserved for somebody that had just jammed a set of chopsticks in the other persons nose, and drop-kicked their last rice-ball into the roadside gutter. So, in the end, I gave up and resorted to being the ignorant tourist; which seemed to please the locals much more than my mangling of the local dialect.

The Australian immigration department has seen fit to grant me an additional six months in Australia, which should be plenty of time to complete the grand loop-and-a-bit. Unfortunately I'm no longer allowed to do any work; I say unfortunately because my petrol fund currently contains a grand total of $3 and 27cents. This alarming lack of substance has mainly been caused by the last round of repairs, and of course my unscheduled trip abroad. Think I'll adopt the attitude of the ostrich to solve this problem, and bury my head in the sand. If I can't see it, it can't be happening.

Fuel woes aside, I am about as eager as a small child with a puppy and an espresso, to get back on the road, and more importantly away from Darwin. I'm sure that if nothing had gone wrong during my stay here, I would have formed a different opinion of the place. Unfortunately, lots of things went pear-shaped, and thus the place, and the grumpy ass majority of those that reside within it's boundaries, can go and swivel for all I care. Of course not everyone was a sad-sack, and I'm sure other people would get a different impression of the town; but the best view I will have, is of the town disappearing in my rear-view mirrors.

Vying for a job with the local tourist board I am not.

Entry 21
 

Bullshit, bulldust and...well, bulls...
Originally published: 8th June 2007

So it was with a heavy heart that I bade farewell to Darwin, I'm not sure who's heart it was but it certainly wasn't mine. I should probably look into giving that back at some point.

I took a short trip into Kakadu National Park, because that is the done thing around these parts. A few waterfalls, some rock 'art' and a bit of bush camping later, and I was firmly back in the travelling groove. I have a hard time getting too excited about Aboriginal rock paintings, some are interesting, don't get me wrong, I just don't 'feel' it, if you catch my drift. I wonder if in years to come we will be touring round London underground stations, marvelling at the graffiti covered remains of the tube trains, wondering at who exactly Wayne and Tracy were, and what exactly it was that they 'did' there. Who can say?


Headed south from there down the highway to Mataranka, before breaking with the bitumen to head east on the 'Savannah Way', a mostly gravel, sand, water and dust track linking up with Queensland on the east coast. Certainly beat travelling via the highway at least, although the road-house at Roper Bar certainly knew how to take advantage of the location, by charging the most I've yet to pay for fuel in Australia.


A few encounters along the route with large (200m long or more) sections of the infamous Australian 'bull-dust', certainly served to keep the mind awake and the body aching.


Of course me being me, I thought it would be quite nice to have a bit of a lie down half way through one patch of bull-dust, just to get the full effect. Trust me, the places I ended up with dust in you don't even want to hear about.


If you don't know what this bull-dust stuff is, just think about riding through knee deep icing sugar, only without the potential for making tasty cakes, and you'll pretty much get the picture.

In addition to the bull-dust, there were also plenty of bulls, cows, kangaroos and various other critters that were determined to make the best possible roadblock they could.


All good fun, and despite their murderous intentions, I managed to make it to the lush and very, very green state of Queensland. Certainly quite a departure from the dry and dusty conditions in the Northern Territory, it's even been raining for the past couple of days, which actually makes for quite a refreshing change. First time in about four months that I've actually needed to break out the waterproof liners for the riding gear. Saves you getting wet from the rain, but you get just as wet from the sweat, so I'm not altogether convinced of the usefulness of said items at the moment.


I have a couple of days in Cairns, catching up with emails, doing some much needed washing (a service to mankind at this point) and hopefully sorting out Gosling One with some nice new rubber; in preparation for the stint up to the top of Cape York.

Entry 22
 

Fish in my headlight...
Originally published: 26th June 2007

I have returned triumphant, relatively in one piece and rather soggily from the very top of the Australian continent! I've tried to keep this update brief although it's still pretty damn long. I'll post as many pictures as I can, as apparently each one of those is worth at least 1000 words. So I can cheat and pretend I've got a massive word count.

Heading north from Cairns with new tyres front and rear, I stuck close to the coast up to the Daintree National Park and Cape Tribulation, in the heart of the 'wet tropics'. Who would've thought that with a name like that, it would actually be bloody wet?! Spent two nights camping at Cape Tribulation waiting for the rain to stop, as my route north would be impassable in the wet. (Due to lots of mud and hefty inclines)



With the rain finally letting up it was north along the 'Bloomfield Track' to Cooktown, past the Black Mountain National Park, and then west along 'Battle Camp Road' (a 4wd track) to join the Peninsula Development Road. 'Road' is a term which is open to much debate; the route was mainly sand, gravel, mud and some very large potholes. One of which, just outside the Archer River Roadhouse, I didn't spot in time to slow down or avoid. Cue a suspension testing, bone rattling, arse numbing descent into said pothole. Luckily, no damage done (or so I thought)

Rolling to a stop outside the fuel pumps I noticed quite a lot of oil dripping into the dust under fuel tank. Now I usually like my oil on the INSIDE of my motorcycle, so I was somewhat concerned at this development. Turned out the shock of the impact had cracked the frame just in front of the fuel tank, causing the oil (which is kept, normally, inside the frame) to leak at an alarming rate. Cue a large number of words not really repeatable in polite company, and a quick trip to the roadhouse workshop and a date with a welder. Of course the day was not quite done dishing out a beating. The welder managed to crack one of the fuel lines; so instead of oil leaking everywhere I was now faced with a fuel leak. Managed to fix it all together again though with the use of some 'quiksteel' and a few cable ties. (the motorcycle riders wonder-gadget) So I was now all set to get back on the track.



Just glancing down at the km reading for that part of the trip, and I kid you not, the readout was 066 6 as I rolled into the roadhouse. Signs of satanic influence? Who can say? Me, I can reasonably imagine the staff of the roadhouse out with shovels in the dead of night, deepening the pothole some more.

Headed north the next day to Bramwell Junction, where after hearing a few motorcycle riding horror stories from the proprietor (why do people think you want to hear that stuff?), I started up the infamous Telegraph Track. Now unless you've actually seen the track, or been along it yourself, it will be impossible for you to get an accurate impression of what it was like. Hopefully some of the pictures will help, but basically just think of the worst sort of surface imaginable, drop a few bombs on it, flood it, add liberal buckets of thick mud, fell some trees across it and crack the route into an intricate network of bike swallowing crevices; and you may have a close approximation.


In short, worst sort of road to ride along imaginable, and therefore quite a lot of fun! Took a lot of concentrating, and was pretty much soaked through for the entire trip, as there are many, many creeks and rivers to cross.

Came off on one creek crossing after hitting a submerged log. Of course motorcycles don't really like lying down in thigh-deep water that much, so this caused a few problems. Wouldn't start in the water, so I had to get it to the opposite bank somehow. Unfortunately the bottom of the crossing was sand and mud, which refused to relinquish it's grip on the wheels. So the only option for getting to dry land was to lay the bike down in the water, and haul it forcibly round, first by the rear wheel, then the front, then the rear, ad infinitum.


Once on some relatively firmer soil, but still in the water, I still had to push to the opposite bank. Words cannot describe how completely knackered I was at this point, as a water-soaked 180kg motorcycle is not the easiest object to manhandle through mud, sand and deep water. Luckily for me, just as I was about to commence pushing again, the support team rolled up!

I say support team, but it was in fact a group of two families I had met a few hours back along the track in their two 4x4s. Steve, Kerryn and Ashleigh, Robyn, Barry, Leanne and a little later also joined by Manny and Veronica. With a hand from this lot I was soon reunited with terra-firma, and could begin the task of getting all the water back on the outside of Gosling 1, and getting the engine back into working order.


Long story short, it took about four and a half hours of draining water, spraying WD40 over almost everything, and push starting up and down a small hill. The latter task was uncomplainingly undertaken by my new friends, for which I shall be ever grateful. It surely would have been an even longer and more odious task, had I been forced to do it alone.
Luckily for me, the bike finally fired back into life, albeit sounding a little unwell, and with cappuccino coloured engine oil (never a good sign).

Nolans Brook would be the final barrier before a turn-off onto a bypass road to join the ferry to cross the Jardine River. Unfortunately by the time I set off again, with the now officially official support team following a few KM behind, it had started to really belt it down with rain. I don't mean a light drizzle either, I mean headache inducing sized drops of rain and lots of 'em. This had the combined effects of a) making it very hard to see, and b) turning the track into thick sloppy mud.


A precarious 30mins or so had me finally arriving at Nolans Brook, a very picturesque and rather annoyingly waist deep, wide 'brook'. According to the map there was an alternate log 'bridge', not recommended for heavy vehicles, and a quick glance around showed what I thought to be the ruins of said bridge, lying in the brook. So the only option for crossing was to push across the water with the engine off, as it was definitely too deep for riding.


Between the support crew and myself we managed to get safely across to the other side, although this second drenching had the effect of stopping the bike from starting on the other side. I decided to set up camp for the night, try and let Gosling 1 dry out a bit and then attempt to carry on in the morning. Bidding my new friends farewell (with the promise that they would check back in a day to make sure I had made it out), I set up camp, and they continued up along the track. Of course it was at this point that I spotted the fecking bridge! It had been hidden from the opposite bank by a fallen tree, har bloody har mother nature.


The rain continued to pelt down, with me collecting the water for drinking and at the same time trying to keep the bike dry. Perhaps half an hour after leaving, I spotted headlights coming towards my camp from the direction that the support crew had left in, lo and behold they had returned! Apparently a few km up the track, the track had pretty much disappeared, now being closer to an ocean than a track. So, not being able to get through they had resolved to return and set up camp for the night with me. By this point we had also been joined by another couple (busy day on the track this!), Ronaldo and Sue. So we had a very cosy night in a rather cramped and damp campsite.

I have to admit, that for all the misfortune of the day, it worked out very well in the end; and I ended up meeting some great people and even spending more time with them once we reached the 'tip'. An 'up' side to every 'down' and all that.

The next day the track had dried out sufficiently for us to continue on, and it was the work of about 45mins to get off the Telegraph Track and up to the Jardine River Ferry.

Spent a few days recuperating, drying out and generally enjoying the company of my new chums. Definitely worth the trip up, met some great people, and now know how to re-start a completely sodden Yamaha XT. Although with any luck, I shan't need to use that knowledge again any time soon.


Am back down in Cairns now, just getting a few bits and pieces together; and of course doing another oil change just to be sure I've got all the water out. It's south from here on a wiggly route down the east coast. With any luck I'll be able to find time to get out onto the Great Barrier Reef too, can't get this close and not actually have a look. Will probably leave the bike on dry land for that one though.

Thanks again to the 'support team' and all the new friends I made along the route up to the 'tip'.


See you later!

Oh yes, I managed to get the whole 'falling off in the water' incident on video, so as soon as I have time and a decent internet connection, I shall upload it for all the world to chuckle at.

For now, more pics!

Entry 23
 

Due south...
Originally published: 31st July 2007

I wish to report that rumours of my death have been highly exaggerated, however rumours of my laziness in updating this blog are spot on. Sorry about that!

So, after recovering from my various underwater expeditions up on Cape York, it was time to get cracking moving south down the east coast. The weather had anticipated this move by me, and in a cunning counter-strike it decided to drop the temperature to "it's frickin' freezing out here Mr Bigglesworth!" levels. I kid you not, every night and morning since departing Cairns has been an exercise in important appendage shrinking exposure training. Chilly? I should bloody co-co!

I wound my way south mainly sticking to long since abandoned inland routes, as these proved to be far more interesting than the more mundane (but faster) coastal highway. Of course the route I chose had a tendency to wiggle its way up and around the Great Dividing Range, which meant the whole "argh I can't feel my fingers!" situation was somewhat exacerbated. Plus of course me being a clever bugger, I'd posted my thermals back to Perth way back when I was suffering in the oven like temperatures of the Northern Territory. Makes quite a nice change not sweating like a Swede in a sauna though.

I'll not go into too many details (as people may fall asleep), but I was stuck in Gympie for about a week, camping in a highway rest area. Turned out the problem was an air leak around where the carburettor joined the engine, meaning too much air was getting in and the bike was acting like a fish out of water. Gasping, coughing, spluttering and generally giving the impression that it was about to explode. (not that a fish out of water would explode, but you catch my drift)


With some help from a chap called Steve who I met in the camp ground (usefully a small-engine mechanic, what are the chances?), I was back on the road once again and the bike is now like a brand new machine. Runs well, more power, more efficient and it even makes the coffee in the morning. (ok so I made that last part up)

Called in at Surfers Paradise for a quick look-see, and spent most of the time drinking a coffee outside the Tiffany's store. I felt the atmosphere outside the front of the shop would benefit from having a dirty, smelly biker drop dust all over the place. Marvellous! I also managed to catch up with some of the members of the unofficial support team from Cape York, which was really nice. Good to see them again!

Compressing the last few of weeks into a paragraph means that I have now arrived in Sydney. I've also finally managed to get some new suspension for the bike, which I actually managed to fit myself without breaking anything, I must be getting better at this mechanic lark. So now I don't get a free spinal adjustment every time I venture onto unsealed roads, which tends to happen quite a lot.

Entry 23a
 

These images are from the post above:



http://www.arseaboutface.com/journal...enicecamp1.jpg
More relaxing, it's a hard life

Entry 24
 

I come from the land of ice and snow...
Originally published: 10th August 2007

Greetings oh loyal reader from almost Melbourne!

Three points down on my effort to reach all four extremities of the Australian continent, south was the most recently visited one. Could only ride to within 20km of the actual point, so I resorted to hoofing it through Wilson's Promontory National Park. A 40km round trip in one day, on foot. I certainly knew I'd been exercising the next morning I can tell you!


Will post an update regarding the bike engine operation as soon as I have news. It's like waiting next to a sick friends hospital bed! Perhaps she'd appreciate a bunch of grapes? Motorbikes like grapes right?

Entry 25
 

Someone shot my hamster...
Originally published: 17th August 2007

This is the new VERY fuel efficient model of Gosling One:



Unsurprisingly for a mechanical device associated with me, things became a bit more complicated than a simple top-end rebuild. Various seized bolts in awkward positions meant that the engine needed to be removed to gain access. (ordinarily this wouldn't have been necessary apparently) Of course getting the engine out proved to be an impossible task due to a seized bolt / axle in the swing arm. Hammers worthy of Hercules himself, and even heat applied to the problem area proved fruitless. Eventually the only option left employ a sharp object to cut the offending bolts off.

I'm assured by the doctor that it is all "downhill from here", although hopefully he was referring to the level of difficulty for the remaining procedures and not Gosling One's survival chances!





The most annoying thing about all this is that I can't get in there and assist. I think I'd make a good nurse, I've got the hips for one of those nurses outfits. I'm stuck getting updates via telephone and pressing my nose up against the plexiglass window in the workshop; I'm not allowed in because of the insurance risk annoyingly.


My wallet may require some CPR and a defibrillator after all this though.
Stay tuned.

Entry 26
 

Panoramamania...
Originally published: 22nd August 2007

Poor old Gosling One remains in hospital awaiting parts, although with any luck it should be no more than a day or so before she is back on her wheels. It had better be, otherwise I know of a few mechanics that could well be on the receiving end of a number of creatively explicit nouns.

To keep me from descending into premature insanity while I wait, I've assembled a few panoramas from their component photos, which you can take a gander at below this text; quite a lot of glue and sellotape was involved.


To give you a general idea of what is left to do, here is a little map. The route is very roughly indicated by the red line, the UK shaped blob is obviously the UK, and the blue line is the USA. That should give you an inkling of the distances remaining. I forget where the map came from, somewhere on the Internet though, so thanks to whoever came up with it in the first place!

Entry 27
 

Gentlemen, I was my hands of this wierdness...
Originally published: 2nd September 2007

A projected time-scale of five to six hours, eventually became a grand total of almost three weeks, but I have finally been reunited with Gosling One. She's looking rather dashing, even if I do say so myself. I even found a spot on the front wheel that was actually reflecting light, imagine that, a shiny bit on my motorcycle! Shiny!

My wallet however now resembles the head of the latest celebrity heiress, i.e only there for show, and filled with nothing of value. The parts list for all the work done ran to four pages, and a similar number of figures for the final bill. Still, it's good to have a bike that is 100% reliable for the up and coming desert sections of Australia. (fingers crossed at least)

The run from Melbourne to Adelaide will be used to 'break in' the new engine components, and hopefully that will be the full extent of any breaking going on. At least the mechanics seemed to have a sense of humour:


My eternal gratitude to the friends I met in Cape York, for letting me mess up their home by staying with them for the last few weeks. Without their hospitality I would probably have been sleeping on a park bench and eating squirrels. Cheers!

Stay tuned to hear how the run to Adelaide goes.

Entry 28
 

Who the #$*! is Alice?
Originally published: 2nd September 2007

I have no excuse for my tardiness in updating this blog; or rather I have many excuses, none of which will pass muster.

The run from Melbourne through to Adelaide went very well, with me retracing my tyre treads from the first run around Australia. That's right folks, once all the way around this very large country has been completed. Hooray! Now I just have to get back over to Perth...cake of piece.

As I mentioned, everything was trouble free for the most part, until that is the clutch cable snapped near Adelaide. Coincidence that it happened so soon after being in the mechanics? Perhaps, but I take solace in blaming them anyway. So I had a few days of cooling my heels near Adelaide. Once again, many thanks to the friends of mine, who valiantly put up with me watching all their DVDs and drinking all their tea.


Once said cable had been replaced, I headed north, up through the Flinders Ranges National Park, before joining the start of the Oodnadatta Track at Maree. Temperatures are now well above the maximum level for wearing clothes, although social etiquette demands that I continue wearing at least some. Bloody prudes.


Anyway, the run up the Oodnadatta Track was pretty interesting, sand and gravel for the most part, following the route of the old railway. This meant there were plenty of railway related sights to be had, the railway siding at Curdimurka providing a nice shelter from the desert nights.


The end of the Oodnadatta Track at Marla, saw me rejoin the highway for a spell, heading North. Called in at the very centre of Australia, near the Aboriginal community of Finke; also the home of the Finke Desert Race, although I was a little early (about 7 months) to actually enter officially, but it didn't stop me having a go anyway. :-D


So now I find myself in the tourist haven of Alice Springs, a small touch of 'civilisation' in an otherwise very deserty, desert region. Re-shod the bike with new tyres yesterday and am taking today as an 'off' day, to catch up on things like sleeping and eating. From Alice I will be heading over to Ayers Rock (Uluru) tomorrow, then down the Great Central Road through the desert, over to Western Australia.

Best desert fatigues all round, and don't forget the sun-tan lotion!

On another note, cheers to 'Trailbike Adventure' magazine over here in Oz, who kindly printed an email I sent them, any minute now the charitable donations will be pouring in...aaany minute now....I can feel it. There was also a mention in "Australian Roadrider' magazine, and '2Wheels' mag, although I've yet to be able to grab hold of a copy of those. But thanks to them too!

Entry 29
 

Seven days in the sun...
Originally published: 9th October 2007

Leaving Alice Springs with my lovely new tyres, I was faced with the problem of what to do with my old ones which weren't quite completely worn out (and that I was to be charged silly-money to get rid of). It goes against the grain to throw things away that are still perfectly usable, so, to that end I created a 'tyre cache'.

Any fellow motorcycle travellers or people near Alice Springs, this one is for you. There is a Bridgestone Trailwing TW41 21" front tyre, 65% worn and a Dunlop D605 4.60-17" rear tyre, 80% worn buried at these coordinates: S23deg 49' 21.8" E133deg 28' 25.7", opposite the turn-off for 'Glen Helen' at the base of a large tree. Hopefully someone will be able to use them for something, they just weren't quite up to getting me all the way back to Perth. Which was certainly proven by the state of my new D605 on arrival in Western Australia.


Anyway, back to business. I made my way down from Alice Springs over towards Ayers Rock (Uluru), because it's apparently an offence punishable by 50 lashes to not go and see 'the rock' when you visit Australia. I have to admit to being a little underwhelmed at first glance, I actually found Mount Conner (just down the road) a lot more visually impressive from a distance. It's hard not to be a little in awe of Uluru when you get up close though, it's sheer size in the middle of an otherwise fairly empty landscape, makes you stop and stare. That is until the millions of flies that are also on a holiday to Uluru find you, then you rapidly continue walking.


A note to prospective visitors: it is definitely not advisable to walk around the base of Uluru at midday, in motorcycle trousers. To say it was a little warm would be an understatement. The controversial question of "to climb or not to climb?" was answered for me, as the route to the top was closed due to predicted temperatures in excess of 36deg C. I'm pretty certain I wouldn't have done it anyway, it looked like bloody hard work!


From there I proceeded over to the other geologically knobbly feature of the area, the Olgas. This was also where I would join the eastern end of the Great Central "Road", which would take me through the centre of Australia over to the west. Of course mother nature (as always) had been watching, plotting and biding her time, so by the time I started out on the sandy track into the interior of Australia, the wind was blowing as hard as it could.


Normally this isn't more than a minor annoyance, however as the track was made up almost entirely of sand, and the surrounding landscape was predominantly desert; so the gusting wind was whipping up some evil sand storms. The photos don't do them justice, but it was almost a complete 'whiteout' at various points along the track; with me being unable to slow down as I needed to keep the speed reasonably high to be able to navigate the deep sand on the track.


Luckily, by the time I got about 200km along the route, the wind died down a gale-force or two and things became a little less heart-attack inducing. It was quite nice to be able to relax a little bit and not have to worry about crashing into stationary camels, road-trains, pyramids, egyptologists and other desert-related road hazards in the near zero viability.


Speaking of camels, to say there were a few would definitely be an understatement. Luckily they seemed to display slightly more road sense than your average cow, sheep or kangaroo. They've definitely mastered the art of the "dirty look" too; being able to stare you down with an expression that suggests they are thoroughly offended by your presence, and would quite appreciate it if you effed-off as soon as possible.


So after about three days of being looked down at by camels, fighting against the elements, getting ripped off for fuel and generally having a grand old time sliding about; I attained the western end of Great Central Road, by arriving at the town of Laverton. Pretty much the only other traffic on the track up to this point had been four trucks hauling mine equipment, and man were they ever big.


From here, the logical choice would have been to head straight for Perth; however I never made any claims about my grasp of logic, and besides, I had unfinished business to attend to. Up to that point I had visited four of my five targets: the most northerly, easterly, southerly and central points of mainland Australia. People with a good memory will remember that my initial attempt on "Steep Point", the most westerly spot; ended in me wussing out after getting continually bogged down trying to cross the dunes.


This time however, I was not to be put off so easily. After stripping the bike of every bit of unnecessary weight, I had another crack at it. It was basically 40km (80km round trip) of riding through, up, along and over various series of sand dunes. Luckily for me, it would appear that my time round Australia had given me a bit more of a grasp on the off-road skills required than I had last time (and possibly less weight too), so it actually turned out to be quite good fun once I got into the swing of things. I'd also like to mention that there were no bike droppages at all on that day. (Which would make it a rarity I should think)


With the westerly point attained, I now had the complete collectors set of Australian extremities! Unfortunately that also meant that I had to return to Perth, an easy couple of days ride to the south. Unfortunate because that would mark the end of the expedition, and I have to admit to being in no rush whatsoever to stop. I made the most of the time I had left, and was suitably grumpy when packing up my last campsite.


Whilst I wasn't pleased to be finishing, that's not to say there wasn't a certain sense of accomplishment. After all, the grand total was 44,347km or 27,556 miles around Australia. Not bad, even if I do say so myself.


So now I'm back in Perth, editing together a few video clips which I will post on completion, and hopefully earning enough cash to fund the start of my journey "home".

Thanks to all those that supported MSF during this adventure, we finally reached the fund-raising goal! Thanks of course to everyone that supported me too; before, during and after. You know who you are.

A few more additional pictures to tide you over:

Entry 30
 

All dressed up and nowhere to go...
Originally published: 20th October 2007

Just a short update to show that Gosling One scrubs up quite nicely when she's not being hammered around the outback. I'm a different kettle of fish entirely, it'd take more than a wash to get me looking respectable.

Right, I'm off for a shower...or seven.

Entry 31
 

Entries after this point are about my return to the UK through China. Not specifically motorcycle related, but I thought you might like to follow it through to the end :)

Planes, trains and floaty metal things...
Originally published: 1st December 2007

First up, apologies those few valiant souls that read this blog, for the lack of updates just recently; i've been doing some of that...erm, what's it called...horrible stuff...work, yes that's it! so there has been little to report.

My time in Australia is finally drawing to a close, and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all the people I've met along the way for their help, support and friendship. The expedition round Australia wouldn't have been the same without you.

I'd also like to offer my gratitude to those who helped support MSF during my motorcycle adventure, and also to mention that the donation page is still open for those that wish to contribute to the good works done by MSF.

What's going on then? Well, let me fill you in... Expiring visas and a bank account that echoes worryingly when you yell into it, means that the time has finally come for me to start the journey "home".

So, how does one get back to the UK from Australia? Direct flight I hear you say? Nay, not for me I cry! Sensible option that, but as I think i've mentioned before, I don't really do sensible any more.

So to that end, I present my route home: (or at least to Italy, from there it's anyone's guess as to how I'll get back to the UK)



Basically it's a flying cigar tube to Singapore (again), then on to Xiamen in China. With any luck from there I'll be catching a train for the 25 hour journey north to Shanghai. Once in Shanghai I intend to run around like a headless chicken, in an attempt to find which berth, and at which port my transport to Italy has docked at; the MV Al Fujairah:

Entry 32
 

Six demon bag...
Originally published: 11th December 2007

So after bidding a fond farewell to my friends in Perth and Australia itself, I was away to Singapore aboard a soaring metal bird. Arrived at 2am to discover that the mass transit system didn't begin running until 6am, so I spent most of the early hours lurking in the only open coffee shop in the arrivals hall.

After escaping the clutches of the airport, I took in the sights of Singapore (again); hardly felt like any time had passed since I was last stalking the ever so clean and tidy streets. Temperatures were high, and humidity was even higher; it was something like walking through a hot, damp sponge. Not particularly pleasant, trust me.

Returning to the airport on the last train of the night, meant that I was seven hours early for my flight, that's what you get for being stingy and not wanting to spend the extra on a taxi. It did give me plenty of time to practice yoga position in between two airport chairs, whilst trying to get a bit of sleep.

I turned out to be the only non-Asian person on the flight to Xiamen, which meant I ended up near the back of the queue for checking in as I lack the pointy elbows necessary to advance in the Asian queuing system. All checked in eventually though, and the airline even decided to have the safety briefing in English, which I felt was a little pointless.

Arriving in Xiamen I found myself a taxi driver who didn't understand a word of English, which complimented my lack of Mandarin skills quite nicely. We managed to understand each other for the essentials in the end though, and after a taxi ride through the city worthy of Grand Theft Auto. I stumbled out of the taxi and straight into bed. (Not literally though, his driving wasn't quite that bad!)

One sleeping beauty impression later, and I was off to explore Xiamen...which I've been doing for the last few days. No pictures at the moment I'm afraid, as we're not quite that advanced in this hostel. I'll upload some when I get to Shanghai.

Speaking of which, it's a mere 24 hours by train, leaving tonight at about 22:30 and arriving the next day at about the same time. I splashed out on a bed this time; I wasn't going to risk it, not after the buttock torturing experience of the long distance trains in Australia!

I'm finding it quite good fun being "in at the deep end", both culturally and linguistically. Don't have a clue what the hell is going on most of the time, and people on electric bicycles keep trying to flatten me. Eating is an interesting exercise, and I've been following the mantra of "if it looks good, I'll eat it". So far it's stood me in good stead, although I rarely have a clue about what it is I'm eating, until after the event. Nothing illness inducing so far though, just eat where the locals eat.

Stay tuned for pictures, bring on the iron horse!

Entry 33
 

Chasing the dragon...
Originally published: 15th December 2007

The train was good fun, although it did get a little monotonous after a while, especially not being able to talk to my companions in the carriage; however even if I had been able to, it seemed they were taking the opportunity to catch up on their sleep.


The dining-car had been taken over as an impromptu HQ for the Chinese military, so the options for food were diminished to the bloke with the handcart full of instant noodles. Getting my grubby little mitts on any was another matter though. I think he must have been training for the Beijing Olympics, as by the time you knew he was coming, he'd blasted past at a great rate of knots, and you were forced to run up the train to catch him.







Have been taking in the sights (glimpsed through the ever-present haze), and trying to organise where I need to be to meet my ship.



Somewhere on the river is about as far as i've got so far, and it's a pretty long river. Hopefully I'll be able to narrow it down by the time we sail, as it's a long swim otherwise, and I don't really fancy the look of the water around here.



Not having a lot of luck uploading photos, these are the only ones i've managed to get online at the moment:








This is probably the last update before I board the ship for Italy (at least I HOPE I'll be boarding the ship to Italy), so there will be a bit of a gap between now and the next update.

High seas hijinks...
Originally published: 16th January 2008

After what seemed to be days and days of talking to Chinese brick walls, I finally made contact with the shipping agent. First person he’d ever had embarking from Shanghai apparently, which didn’t fill me with the greatest confidence in his abilities. Turned out he did know what he was doing however, and I made it through all the vagaries of the Chinese immigration / customs system with nary a hitch; signed on board as a new engine technician no less.

Images from the previous post:


Here are some photos from the voyage:

When there's nowhere left to run...
Originally published: 11th February 2008

Just in case people get confused, I've updated the previous two posts to include the images I was unable to upload at the time; don't feel you have to read it all again just to look at the pretty pictures though.

So, let's see where was I...oh yes, lurking with family in the French countryside.

After spending so long in the heat of Australia, what do you do when you reach Europe in the dead of winter? Why you go out and play in the snow as much as possible of course!


Snowshoeing turned out to be huge amounts of fun, and I only looked marginally more ludicrous than normal whilst wearing them.



I also busied myself helping sort out various log-related issues, splitting, moving, stacking etc. and remarkably came away with all my digits accounted for. Not wishing to push my luck with an axe too far, I bade farewell to my family and headed back to Italy on the train, then up north to Switzerland. I was intending to do some more freeloading with family-types you see, and they live in Switzerland, where I could hopefully expand my collection of gold bars and cuckoo clocks.



Spent a week or so there, had a whale of a time. Surprisingly I ended up doing more wood related activities, this time with a chainsaw and a jeep however; so the potential for involuntary amputation was a little higher. Luck was still with me though, and I came away unscathed, despite my best efforts to make use of my travel insurance policy. There was a point behind all this chopping and hacking mind you, namely staying warm in the sub-zero Switzerland temperatures.



I re-awakened a long dormant love of waist-deep snow while I was there, much better than those limp wristed winters we get in England. (although even the lightest dusting of the white stuff seems to be enough to cause widespread panic and chaos)



Next stop after Switzerland was Germany, to visit a friend that I first met in Broome, Australia no less. That's one of the great things about this travelling malarky, the random encounters which then lead on to more encounters and more things. Spent a nice few days in the fatherland; before jumping (well, more like stumbling) onto a night train through Germany and France; and arriving at Dieppe in the dingy morning light, and the pouring rain. The weather, once again proving to be a suitable metaphor for my mood at the time.

A rather minuscule vessel (I'm used to bigger things now dontcha know), had me across the ditch (English Channel) in a little over four hours. I stepped out of the gloomy interior, into blazing sunshine, clear blue skies and onto British soil at exactly 15:47 and 36sec on 30/01/2008. Just short of three years since I left.




For those that don't like flying, the trip from Shanghai in China to Newport in England, was completed without leaving the ground once; not too shabby, even if I do say so myself.

This will be the final blog update for the foreseeable future. I'll be concentrating all my energies on trying to find work and making some money, ostensibly so I can buy a bike and naff off around Europe; but who knows how long that will take. If I get my finger out and crack on, I'll be trying to write something about the Australia bike section of the trip: if nothing else, it beats looking for a real job for a while. I'll also make a proper "ArseAboutFace" website, so stay tuned for that. (Although I recommend not holding your breath)

Many thanks to all those that donated to MSF while I was on the motorcycle expedition, and my eternal gratitude to all those I met along the way who made it such a pleasurable experience. You know who you are.

Be excellent to each other.

Made a few videos after the expedition as well, here's a sample one for you:



Feel free to check out the rest via YouTube or my own site at Arse About Face - 44347km (27556 miles) around Australia by Motorcycle - Book coming soon!

Current quest is now trying to get the book about the motorcycle expedition published. Easier said than done it seems, even if you've actually already written the damn thing!

If anyone read 'Adventure Bike Rider' magazine. There's an article appearing in Issue 4 written by me, based on the Tasmania leg of my trip. Should be out around the end of March I think.

It's great, honest it is. :) I reckon it'll be worth a read at least!

I'll post the panoramic photos in here as well (other than just on my site) when I have a sec to sort them out!

Tally ho!:scooter:

and the panoramic photos...
 

The panoramic images from the trip as well, click the link below each image to view the bigger version. (They're pretty big, so consider yourself warned!)


http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/smal...nshotcreek.jpg
'Gunshot Creek', Telegraph Track
Full size version:
http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/pano_gunshotcreek.jpg

http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/smallpano_logbridge.jpg
Creek crossing via log-bridge, Telegraph Track
Full size version:
http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/pano_logbridge.jpg

http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/smal...nolanscamp.jpg
Camping at Nolans Brook, Telegraph Track to Cape York
Full size version:
http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/pano_nolanscamp.jpg

http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/smallpano_capeyork.jpg
Cape York, the very top of Australia
Full size version:
http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/pano_capeyork.jpg

http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/smallpano_wurumadam.jpg
Full size version:
http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/pano_wurumadam.jpg

http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/smallpano_cairns.jpg
Cairns
Full size version:
http://www.arseaboutface.com/oz/pano_cairns.jpg

Happy trails :thumbup1: