The road out of Mt Isa is pleasant enough and it's only a short ride to Longreach. The town of Longreach is famous for having a 747 parked in the middle of a paddock. It's a tourist attraction and for a nominal fee ($79!!!) you can get a guided tour of the cockpit, the wings, etc. Dave seems fairly excited about the prospect but I'm unexpectedly uninterested. There's something not quite right about a plane that doesn't fly. It seems dead, or broken, or something like that. To me it's like paying money to see whale carcasses on the beach rather than watching whales swimming in the ocean.
Dave is resolute on ending the odyssey early. He's had enough of traveling and he wants to go home. His brother lives near Brisbane and he's about to go overseas, so Dave wants to stay there for a few nights before heading straight back to Canberra. Dave invites me to his brother's place but I think that would be an awkward situation. I consider the idea of continuing the odyssey by myself although the idea of going home has a strong attraction. I'm seen everything I wanted to see - Kakadu was the last thing I had on my list - and I really hate the thought of more camping! I sleep on the decision.
The next morning I've made up my mind: I'm heading straight down through the centre of Queensland and New South Wales towards Canberra. Dave is going a slightly longer route via Brisbane so here's where we part ways.
Dave reckons it'll take me three days to reach Canberra so I challenge myself to make it in two days. The roads in Queensland are much better than Northern Territory and it's easy to keep the pace up, although the long hours in the saddle are wreaking havoc on my rear. As I travel south I can feel the air getting colder and colder; yesterday around lunchtime I'd be sweating yet today I've got the heated grips on full bore! I'm no longer enjoying the benefit of Dave's GPS so for only the second time since starting the trip I pull out my maps. My navigation skills are slightly rusty so it's a miracle I don't get lost.
After a long day of riding, most of it roughly approximating the speed limit, I reach Bourke with daylight to spare. The next morning I'm in a cheerful mood because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's absolutely freezing so I suit up with all the winter gear that hasn't been worn since Perth. Even with all the extra clothing the cold wind bites through my arms and chest and my teeth start to chatter. I see storm clouds towards the south and I hope it isn't raining in Canberra; I couldn't bear being this cold and wet as well.
The transformation in the landscape is astounding the further south I travel. Fields are greener, trees are taller, and there are farm animals everywhere. Only four days ago I was in the desert of the Northern Territory where the grass is brown, the trees are stunted, and the only animals I saw were dead ones by the side of the road. I begin to appreciate how lucky I am to live on the east coast. I've seen the sunburnt country and the sweeping plains and it's not my cup of tea. You need to be a special kind of person to love that kind of land.
The road winds through a shady forest and I almost weep with joy because I haven't seen a forest for weeks, much less ridden through one. The road starts to get twisty as I pass Boorowa with crests and hard turns. It's narrow and bumpy and I suffer a moment of panic because I'm no longer used to this kind of riding. It would be a disaster to crash the bike this close to home. I go wide on two corners and I'm almost collected by a truck before I force myself to slow down. Better to get home late rather than not get home at all.
I turn onto the Hume Highway near Yass and suddenly I feel like the trip is over even though there's at least an hour to go. The rest of the ride is merely bookkeeping. As I pull into my driveway I can hardly believe that the odyssey has ended. I park the bike, get off it gingerly, and step inside my house.
I'm home.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Lost Highway
Kakadu is superb but the next leg of the Odyssey is entirely unappealing. The interior of the Northern Territory is immense and punctuated only occasionally by rundown roadhouses and tiny towns. We have to cross 1500km of desert and even during winter it's intensely hot during the day.
Dave is concerned about his tyres and insists on riding really slowly. I prefer riding quickly and standing into the oncoming wind to cool off. After lunch we agree to separate for a bit and use our phones to catch up later. There's only one possible direction for the next several hundred kilometres so it's not like we'll lose each other.
That night I managed to lose Dave. Woops.
There's no mobile coverage so I can't contact him by phone. However he will be at one of the roadhouses near where I'm staying tonight and he'll probably reach Mt Isa by tomorrow night. It's no big deal. I'm awake early the next morning and I'm making great time when I pass Three Ways. I briefly consider stopping for fuel but I've got enough to reach the next roadhouse.
When I reach the next roadhouse there's a big red sign saying "Sorry, No Fuel".
Oh shit. It's too late to turn back to Three Ways. I slow right down to conserve fuel and when I see the green sign that indicates 20km remaining to the next town, I breathe a sigh of relief. That's when the engine goes suddenly silent. There's no sputtering or coughing; the engine just stops dead and the bike rolls to a stop.
Well this is a fine mess. Middle of the desert. No fuel. I wonder briefly how this will be written on my tombstone: "Here Lies Nathan, Eternally Resting, Just Like His Bike, Which He Didn't Refuel at Three Ways, What An Idiot". I'm not actually worried about thirst or hunger - I've enough food and water to last a week - but I feel like dying from embarrassment.
Fortunately this is a well travelled road so I start waving down passing motorists. Every single one of them stops and offers to help, although every one of them only has diesel. It takes a dozen failed attempts before a Queensland farmer named Brian stops, and he keeps a jerry can of petrol on the back of his truck. Hooray.
Brian generously refuses to accept payment for the fuel. He just seems pleased to help me out. I'm back on the road and only a few hours behind schedule. I make it into Mt Isa as the sun is setting and I catchup with Dave at the campsite. I tell him about running out of fuel and he has a good laugh at my expense. I'm still not seeing the funny side.
Over beers at the nearby pub, Dave says he's not that keen to travel much of the eastern coast because he's travelled those roads heaps of times. He wants to start heading home. I'm not entirely convinced - I haven't seen much of anything above Sydney - but it's something we can work out tomorrow.
Dave is concerned about his tyres and insists on riding really slowly. I prefer riding quickly and standing into the oncoming wind to cool off. After lunch we agree to separate for a bit and use our phones to catch up later. There's only one possible direction for the next several hundred kilometres so it's not like we'll lose each other.
That night I managed to lose Dave. Woops.
There's no mobile coverage so I can't contact him by phone. However he will be at one of the roadhouses near where I'm staying tonight and he'll probably reach Mt Isa by tomorrow night. It's no big deal. I'm awake early the next morning and I'm making great time when I pass Three Ways. I briefly consider stopping for fuel but I've got enough to reach the next roadhouse.
When I reach the next roadhouse there's a big red sign saying "Sorry, No Fuel".
Oh shit. It's too late to turn back to Three Ways. I slow right down to conserve fuel and when I see the green sign that indicates 20km remaining to the next town, I breathe a sigh of relief. That's when the engine goes suddenly silent. There's no sputtering or coughing; the engine just stops dead and the bike rolls to a stop.
Well this is a fine mess. Middle of the desert. No fuel. I wonder briefly how this will be written on my tombstone: "Here Lies Nathan, Eternally Resting, Just Like His Bike, Which He Didn't Refuel at Three Ways, What An Idiot". I'm not actually worried about thirst or hunger - I've enough food and water to last a week - but I feel like dying from embarrassment.
Fortunately this is a well travelled road so I start waving down passing motorists. Every single one of them stops and offers to help, although every one of them only has diesel. It takes a dozen failed attempts before a Queensland farmer named Brian stops, and he keeps a jerry can of petrol on the back of his truck. Hooray.
Brian generously refuses to accept payment for the fuel. He just seems pleased to help me out. I'm back on the road and only a few hours behind schedule. I make it into Mt Isa as the sun is setting and I catchup with Dave at the campsite. I tell him about running out of fuel and he has a good laugh at my expense. I'm still not seeing the funny side.
Over beers at the nearby pub, Dave says he's not that keen to travel much of the eastern coast because he's travelled those roads heaps of times. He wants to start heading home. I'm not entirely convinced - I haven't seen much of anything above Sydney - but it's something we can work out tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Kakadu
Three days ago we rode from Litchfield to Kakadu. The ride was short yet exhausting and utterly mind numbing. I call it an early night soon after arriving at the campsite.
Which is just as well because I'm awake at 5:30am the next morning for the famous Yellow Rivers Boat Tour. The boat is another one of those stupid aluminium crocodile feeding platforms. But this time they're vicious saltwater crocodiles! Over 250 of them!!! The tour guide jokes about the futility of the life jackets and the captive audience titters dutifully. I am not laughing! Get me off this thing.
Unluckily for me the boat has left the dock and I'm trapped for the next two hours. Almost immediately we are spotted by a gigantic Nathan-eating crocodile which swims right up alongside the boat. Argh. The tour guide tells us that only last week this very same crocodile leapt out of the river and snatched a bird off a tree branch. Double Argh. The croc stares up at us, no doubt thinking we look somewhat like a tin of sardines. I try my best to appear unappetizing while snapping photos.
The rest of the tour is mostly bird watching. It's interesting in small doses and I did enjoy the spectacle of 5000 ducks simultaneously taking flight from the wetlands.
The next day is another early start for the 4wd tour out to Jim Jim Falls and Twin Falls. Dave had considered (or at least joked about) riding here and I'm glad common sense prevailed. There's a road only by the very loosest definition imaginable. It's actually more like two rough ruts where 4wd vehicles have previously driven.
It takes two bumpy hours, a short boat ride, and more rock hopping to reach Twin Falls. It's a serene environment; the red cliffs, the green foliage, the blue river, and the crashing white water. Even during the dry season the falls are active; it's not what I expected from this hot, dry region.
Jim Jim Falls are even harder to reach as there is far more difficult rock hopping involved. The tour guide promises a great swimming hole under the falls called the Plunge Pool. The falls actually stop flowing for the dry season and the water in the plunge pool receives almost no sunlight so it is freezing. Four people, including Dave, dive into the pool, howl in shock, then clamber quickly out before hypothermia starts. The tour guide has a good laugh; what a rascal!
The guide shows us to the real pool which has a tiny sandy beach, so it's called Beach Pool. Why are park rangers so unimaginative when naming? The water is very warm and crystal clear. The pool is bordered by 100 metre cliff faces and sits within natural rainforest; I couldn't ask for a better location. The relaxing swim is pure bliss after the exertion of getting here.
Ahh, Kakadu is good.
Which is just as well because I'm awake at 5:30am the next morning for the famous Yellow Rivers Boat Tour. The boat is another one of those stupid aluminium crocodile feeding platforms. But this time they're vicious saltwater crocodiles! Over 250 of them!!! The tour guide jokes about the futility of the life jackets and the captive audience titters dutifully. I am not laughing! Get me off this thing.
Unluckily for me the boat has left the dock and I'm trapped for the next two hours. Almost immediately we are spotted by a gigantic Nathan-eating crocodile which swims right up alongside the boat. Argh. The tour guide tells us that only last week this very same crocodile leapt out of the river and snatched a bird off a tree branch. Double Argh. The croc stares up at us, no doubt thinking we look somewhat like a tin of sardines. I try my best to appear unappetizing while snapping photos.
The rest of the tour is mostly bird watching. It's interesting in small doses and I did enjoy the spectacle of 5000 ducks simultaneously taking flight from the wetlands.
The next day is another early start for the 4wd tour out to Jim Jim Falls and Twin Falls. Dave had considered (or at least joked about) riding here and I'm glad common sense prevailed. There's a road only by the very loosest definition imaginable. It's actually more like two rough ruts where 4wd vehicles have previously driven.
It takes two bumpy hours, a short boat ride, and more rock hopping to reach Twin Falls. It's a serene environment; the red cliffs, the green foliage, the blue river, and the crashing white water. Even during the dry season the falls are active; it's not what I expected from this hot, dry region.
Jim Jim Falls are even harder to reach as there is far more difficult rock hopping involved. The tour guide promises a great swimming hole under the falls called the Plunge Pool. The falls actually stop flowing for the dry season and the water in the plunge pool receives almost no sunlight so it is freezing. Four people, including Dave, dive into the pool, howl in shock, then clamber quickly out before hypothermia starts. The tour guide has a good laugh; what a rascal!
The guide shows us to the real pool which has a tiny sandy beach, so it's called Beach Pool. Why are park rangers so unimaginative when naming? The water is very warm and crystal clear. The pool is bordered by 100 metre cliff faces and sits within natural rainforest; I couldn't ask for a better location. The relaxing swim is pure bliss after the exertion of getting here.
Ahh, Kakadu is good.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Litchfield Park
I've spent the past two days in Litchfield and I loved it. I've seen waterfalls, rock pools, termite mounds, and hiked numerous bushwalks. Everything is only a short ride from the campsite, so we head back there each day for lunch from its superb cafe. It's the perfect combination of getting to know nature without giving up the modern comforts.
I was particularly impressed by Wangi Falls. This waterfall flows strongly all year around and it empties into a huge basin. The basin is regularly cleared of croocdiles so it's a popular swimming hole for tourists. The grassy area near the falls is entirely covered with swimsuit wearing tourists, baking in the sun. It is an amazing sight, seeing this many people seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
However for me the most exciting thing in the park is the road. I haven't written much about bike riding recently because the roads in WA and NT are just terribly boring. Not the ones in Litchfield National Park! The main road dips, weaves and twists through the ranges. The signs all suggest 80kph; we interpret that as a challenge to go as fast as possible. I lap it up while I can; this will be the last decent ride until I get to the east coast.
I was particularly impressed by Wangi Falls. This waterfall flows strongly all year around and it empties into a huge basin. The basin is regularly cleared of croocdiles so it's a popular swimming hole for tourists. The grassy area near the falls is entirely covered with swimsuit wearing tourists, baking in the sun. It is an amazing sight, seeing this many people seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
However for me the most exciting thing in the park is the road. I haven't written much about bike riding recently because the roads in WA and NT are just terribly boring. Not the ones in Litchfield National Park! The main road dips, weaves and twists through the ranges. The signs all suggest 80kph; we interpret that as a challenge to go as fast as possible. I lap it up while I can; this will be the last decent ride until I get to the east coast.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Survival Of The Fittest
Yesterday was a short trip from Katherine to Darwin. Sadly I'd woken up that morning with a runny nose and a sore throat so it was a miserable ride as far as I was concerned. Darwin has a miniature CBD with cafes and shops that I would probably appreciate more if I wasn't sneezing. As it stands I currently hate the world and everything in it - a natural reaction to being sick I suppose - so I had crawled into my sweltering tent before sunset to get some sleep.
This is about the time when I learn that Darwin's 24-hour international airport is directly opposite the camp site. Planes are taking off and landing well past midnight and the noise is deafening. As if that wasn't bad enough the Germans in the nearby tent cope with the impossibility of sleeping by partying all night. The music is bad enough but do they have to sing along? I gleefully imagine one of the jumbos crashlanding on the Germans, which would solve two immediate problems. Unfortunately that doesn't happen so I'm forced to endure euro pop and roaring jets, until ...
... the sun rises. It's morning already and I haven't slept a wink. Dave and I agree that this sucks - Darwin might be alright but the campsite is crap - so we move the schedule forward a day. We're going to Litchfield National Park.
It's a brief ride to the park but what a difference! The flora has a tropical appearance and the smells are clean and refreshing, even through my blocked sinuses. Darwin was stinking hot yet it's pleasantly warm at the park. Best of all.... it's so quiet. The campsite is spectacular; lush green grounds, great facilities, and a licensed bar!
I drink several bottles of full strength medication to help get to sleep. I'm taking no chances tonight!
This is about the time when I learn that Darwin's 24-hour international airport is directly opposite the camp site. Planes are taking off and landing well past midnight and the noise is deafening. As if that wasn't bad enough the Germans in the nearby tent cope with the impossibility of sleeping by partying all night. The music is bad enough but do they have to sing along? I gleefully imagine one of the jumbos crashlanding on the Germans, which would solve two immediate problems. Unfortunately that doesn't happen so I'm forced to endure euro pop and roaring jets, until ...
... the sun rises. It's morning already and I haven't slept a wink. Dave and I agree that this sucks - Darwin might be alright but the campsite is crap - so we move the schedule forward a day. We're going to Litchfield National Park.
It's a brief ride to the park but what a difference! The flora has a tropical appearance and the smells are clean and refreshing, even through my blocked sinuses. Darwin was stinking hot yet it's pleasantly warm at the park. Best of all.... it's so quiet. The campsite is spectacular; lush green grounds, great facilities, and a licensed bar!
I drink several bottles of full strength medication to help get to sleep. I'm taking no chances tonight!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Crocodile Rock
My draw card for Katherine is the nearby Nitmiluk National Park. The park has some impressive gorges and hiking trails. Hiking sounds like too much effort so I've booked for the riverboat tour.
It's another obnoxiously early start so I'm surprised to see at least 100 people at the park's boat ramp. Half of them hire kayaks - that's madness; the water is ice cold and full of freshwater crocodiles - while the other half have some common sense. The sensible half are herded onto feeding platforms for crocodiles aka aluminium riverboats.
Our tour guide is a confident and charismatic local called Russel. He shows us the aboriginal rock art, local wildlife, river flora, rock formations, and makes the tour interesting with stories and jokes. Some of the jokes seem a little too well polished; I suspect he's done this tour more than once or twice.
There are five gorges on my tour and the boat cannot pass the shallow water between them in the dry season. At the end of each gorge we leave the boat and go "rock hopping" to another boat in the next gorge. The first two hoppings are easy but the difficulty increases as we move further into the park. Some of the older tourists are having trouble. I think it's fun, especially when rocks slip out from under my feet. Our guide warns that injuries do occur from time to time. But I've got air ambulance cover and an injury means another helicopter ride. That would be awesome!
Along the way our guide has been pointing out freshwater crocodiles swimming near the boat or sunbaking on the rocks. I'm terrified of crocs - they're carnivorous beartraps with legs - so I'm gobsmacked when at the fifth gorge he tells us we can go swimming. He assures us the crocs are more frightened of us than we are of them. Bullshit. I stay back on the shore, my limbs safe from evil eyed predators.
After a barbecue lunch we head back the way we came. A combination of the heat and the lunch makes the return trip more exhausting. I'm delighted to reach the final boat and enjoy the relaxing cruise back to the park's boat ramp. This was without doubt the best tour I've been on for this trip.
It's another obnoxiously early start so I'm surprised to see at least 100 people at the park's boat ramp. Half of them hire kayaks - that's madness; the water is ice cold and full of freshwater crocodiles - while the other half have some common sense. The sensible half are herded onto feeding platforms for crocodiles aka aluminium riverboats.
Our tour guide is a confident and charismatic local called Russel. He shows us the aboriginal rock art, local wildlife, river flora, rock formations, and makes the tour interesting with stories and jokes. Some of the jokes seem a little too well polished; I suspect he's done this tour more than once or twice.
There are five gorges on my tour and the boat cannot pass the shallow water between them in the dry season. At the end of each gorge we leave the boat and go "rock hopping" to another boat in the next gorge. The first two hoppings are easy but the difficulty increases as we move further into the park. Some of the older tourists are having trouble. I think it's fun, especially when rocks slip out from under my feet. Our guide warns that injuries do occur from time to time. But I've got air ambulance cover and an injury means another helicopter ride. That would be awesome!
Along the way our guide has been pointing out freshwater crocodiles swimming near the boat or sunbaking on the rocks. I'm terrified of crocs - they're carnivorous beartraps with legs - so I'm gobsmacked when at the fifth gorge he tells us we can go swimming. He assures us the crocs are more frightened of us than we are of them. Bullshit. I stay back on the shore, my limbs safe from evil eyed predators.
After a barbecue lunch we head back the way we came. A combination of the heat and the lunch makes the return trip more exhausting. I'm delighted to reach the final boat and enjoy the relaxing cruise back to the park's boat ramp. This was without doubt the best tour I've been on for this trip.
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Early Bird
There's one last thing to do before leaving Kununurra; I've booked a scenic flight over the Bungle Bungle Ranges. The flight is scheduled for 6am which is an obnoxiously early time to be awake. It's still pitch black when I stagger, bleary eyed, onto the courtesy bus.
The airplane is a Cessna Caravan and it's an ugly looking thing; it looks like a minibus with wings. The pilot offers the copilot seat to one lucky passenger. Dave and I both shoot our hands up... but I was that much quicker. Whee. Banks and banks of humming machinery. I've never seen so many knobs. I resist the urge to play with them.
The flight takes us over Lake Argyle and the view is all the more impressive because I can now see the shoreline in all directions. Flying at over 300kph it takes about an hour to get across the lake to our destination; the Bungle Bungle.
The Bungle Bungle stand between the featureless desert of the interior and the rugged ranges to the north. Millions of years of erosion have shaped the ranges into beehive like domes. Bacteria has eaten the rocks to create horizontal stripes of alternating colours. Deep gorges cleave through the landscape and separate the beehive domes into tiny clusters. The odd scenery looks like an alien world. I can almost imagine the domes are homes for the aliens.
The plane flies back to Kununurra and there's no reason to stick around, so we waste no time racing to Katherine. We cross the Northern Territory border at noon then the speed limit increases to 130kph. The roads seem ill suited for the higher speeds; they're narrow and very rough. However I'm dripping sweat inside my gear and I can't wait to finish this section. I belt along the road as fast as I can.
When I reach Katherine it's the hottest part of the day and I think I'm suffering heatstroke. I can barely think. It takes nearly an hour to find accommodation before I can strip off the heavy gear. I collapse, exhausted.
And this is winter!
The airplane is a Cessna Caravan and it's an ugly looking thing; it looks like a minibus with wings. The pilot offers the copilot seat to one lucky passenger. Dave and I both shoot our hands up... but I was that much quicker. Whee. Banks and banks of humming machinery. I've never seen so many knobs. I resist the urge to play with them.
The flight takes us over Lake Argyle and the view is all the more impressive because I can now see the shoreline in all directions. Flying at over 300kph it takes about an hour to get across the lake to our destination; the Bungle Bungle.
The Bungle Bungle stand between the featureless desert of the interior and the rugged ranges to the north. Millions of years of erosion have shaped the ranges into beehive like domes. Bacteria has eaten the rocks to create horizontal stripes of alternating colours. Deep gorges cleave through the landscape and separate the beehive domes into tiny clusters. The odd scenery looks like an alien world. I can almost imagine the domes are homes for the aliens.
The plane flies back to Kununurra and there's no reason to stick around, so we waste no time racing to Katherine. We cross the Northern Territory border at noon then the speed limit increases to 130kph. The roads seem ill suited for the higher speeds; they're narrow and very rough. However I'm dripping sweat inside my gear and I can't wait to finish this section. I belt along the road as fast as I can.
When I reach Katherine it's the hottest part of the day and I think I'm suffering heatstroke. I can barely think. It takes nearly an hour to find accommodation before I can strip off the heavy gear. I collapse, exhausted.
And this is winter!
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