Ulysses Club - Clarence Valley Group

"GO WEST OLD MAN" By E.Eckert,

About April 2004 ,1 received a phone call from my riding buddy Judy, asking me if I would be interested in riding with her to Bunbury W.A. in July of that year.

It transpired that her nephew was getting married there and rather than fly across with some of her family, she thought it might be a good opportunity to ride there , but wasn't keen on going it alone. I pondered a while at the sugestion , only recently having returned from riding around Tasmania and Victoria, then accepted the invitation with gusto. Hell, nobody had to twist my arm , since an opportunity like this only happens occasionally and I have always wanted to visit the west having seen lots of travelogues on T.V. and read magazine articles on our great western state.

I mentioned my proposed trip to my brother, an experienced 4W.D. traveller who had recently crossed the Nullarbour and he furnished me with maps and brochures of the area for me to study. I was quite surprised to read of all the available accommodation en route and by this stage I was getting more excited about the pending trip. Over the next two months Judy and I did a lot of planning and decided it would be too cold to camp out but we agreed to take our sleeping bags to use in "on site vans" and in addition she decided to take her tent that we could both share in case of emergencies. We also were aware of the short range her Virago gave being only 150 Km. on a tank full of juice so I agreed that since she was carrying the tent, I would take a jerry can in one of my panniers. According to my calculations the longest distance between fuel stops across the Nullarbour is 190 Km

Judy booked accommodation at a caravan park at Bunbury for three nights and we decided to take ten days to reach our destination,  which would give us enough time to explore the Eyre Peninsular in S. A., before crossing the Nullarbour, then do some sight seeing in the southern region of W.A. , spend a week or so in the west and then return via Kalgoorlie, Nullarbour, then Adelaide and return to Grafton early in August.

We managed to squeeze in a weekend away with our Ulysses pals for Christmas in July at Stanthorpe in Qld. just prior to leaving for the west. This event had been booked and paid for months ahead, and we did not want to miss out on the fun. I had all my clothes, maps and other gear for the W.A.trip all ready to load onto the bike on the Sunday night after returning from Stanthorpe, ready for an early start the next morning. It so happened it was my daughter, Jenny's, birthday the day we left, so my friend Gwen and I called in on her on our way home from Stanthorpe with a gift and birthday wishes.

I agreed to keep Jenny and Gwen informed of our progress along the way as well as my neighbour "Zeke" who had become my resident caretaker since I joined up with Ulysses.

He ensured that my garden was well watered and my cat fed, mail collected etc. while I was gallivanting around the country side.

DAY 1

Judy called for me at 8.50 a.m. after having a new air cleaner filter fitted to her bike that morning. It was a pleasant morning, not too cold and not raining so we had a good ride on the Armidale Rd, up the mountain to Ebor, being very cautious negotiating some of the damp bends between Nymboida and Billys Creek. Ebor was our first fuel stop, and as always in the winter and often in the summer a biting south -westerly wind was blowing. We cruised along Waterfall Way to Armidale , stopping there for more fuel and an early lunch. Waterfull Way is a fantastic road and at times it is difficult to stick to the speed limit. Fortunately, we only saw one highway patrol car and he did not bother us. After lunch we rode on again, stopping at Tamworth, then on to Gunnedah, once again stopping for fuel ,then reaching our destination for the day at Coonabarraban at about 3.30 pm.Before the cold evening closed in,  it was starting to get cold in the shade. The traffic travelled a lot faster once we left Tamworth as the road was good, except for minor road works in a few places. I could not help but notice the country side was distinctly browner by now. We booked a room in the Imperial Hotel, in the main street, and parked our bikes in the rear of the hotel with other guests vehicle and some workmens utes, one of which had a savage dog tied to it. Although I consider myself a dog lover, I kept my distance well and truly from this brute. On making enquiries from the barmaid, Judy was able to leave her swag in a lock up machinery shed to avoid lugging it up the stairs to our room.

After a walk down town for a bit of exercise, we went back to our room and watched T. V. for a while till the pub dining room opened at 6.30 pm, where we enjoyed a nice home cooked meal followed by an early night.

DAY 2

It had been a cold night outside for the bikes but we were cosy in our room with our strip heater and electric blankets. There is a lot to be said for "Pub-stay hotels". We ate our breakfast of cereal and raisin toast in the guests breakfast room on the upstairs enclosed verandah, which reminded me of the B&B I stayed in at Nowra, on the way home from the Snowy Ride in 2002.

We removed the frost laden bike covers and managed to start both bikes under protest. It was cold riding, mostly on the feet and hands, but the road was good with a lot to see, as I had not travelled this section before. The first fuel stop was at Gilgandra at a truck stop where I discovered I had lost my 35 year old sleeping bag . It had been lashed to the top of my pannier bag with ocky straps and somehow had fallen off. I had checked it a few times that morning and had no idea where I had lost it so decided to put it down to bad luck and continue on. I must admit that it was high time I replaced it, since for some years now it had been molting heavily, so much so that one morning years ago when I woke up, I had been told I looked as though I had slept with the chooks. True story.

Our next stop was Warren, where Judy filled up again and I had a warming coffee and a walk around to warm my feet. Our lunch stop was at Nyngan, where we sat in the sun outside a cafe and enjoyed our meal. Judy had a bit of shopping to do, so I walked across the road to the old railway station which had been converted into a museum since the rail service has been discontinued. Apart from relics of the past on display, there was a video showing the devastating floods of 1990, when practically the entire township population had been air lifted out by helicopter to higher ground at Bourke.

The weather had warmed up by now and the afternoon ride to Cobar was quite enjoyable, although we had to be careful not to hit any wild goats or sheep and cattle that strayed onto the road. It seems there are not many road fences in this neck of the woods. We rode to the western side of Cobar, where we knew from the previous years trip to Broken Hill, that there was a caravan park on the approaches to town.

We booked into a cabin in the park and while Judy decided to do some washing, I went for a walk around the park and discovered a huge aviary with all sorts of local and exotic bird life on display .1 had no trouble finding it as the noise was deafening when they all started screeching. That night we dined in the Caltex service station, remembering it from our last visit, then walked the short distance back to the cabin. Having lost my sleeping bag, I slept with all my clothes on and wrapped myself in the bed cover that was fitted over the mattress. The only form of heating was a useless bloody strip heater which only stayed on for 15 minutes at a time before automatically switching off. I managed to sharpen a match stick to jamb in the switch so that it stayed on, but was not game enough to leave it on all night in case of overload. It was bitterly cold during the night, when I needed a nature call and although we didn't carry a thermometer I think the temperature must have been close to zero. I was thankful we were not in a tent.

DAY 3

It was a cold, frosty morning, but after a nice hot breakfast at the same service station, we were on the road again by 9.30 am. It was a sunny morning, but we were hampered by a strong westerly wind which we were riding directly into. Judy's bike ran out of fuel at 140 K's. so I siphoned some out of mine to get her the 8 K's or so to the strange little road house at Emdale where the petrol pumps were locked up between use. It is a popular stop, being the only fuel available between Cobar and Wilcannia. Our next stop was Wilcannia, where we both took the same amount of fuel and by now I had decided to top up my tank every time Judy refueled, in case there was a repeat of the mornings experience. I also decided that from Broken Hill on, I would keep the jerry can full.

We did not linger at Wilcannia which was once a majestic flourishing town but sadly has been allowed to run into a state of disrepair and has a third world look about it. Between Wilcannia and Little Topar roadhouse, Judy, who was leading, encountered five kangaroos hopping across the road, but managed to avoid contact with them . We still saw a lot of wild goats, but not as much road kill as I expected. We stopped at Little Topar which is a fuel station, diner and hotel all housed in the one low level building. We had a bite to eat there and a chat with a Broken Hill Ulysses chap travelling by car, who informed us of the best hotel to stay in at Broken Hill. We found it without any trouble and booked a room for the night. He gave us a 10% discount and provided under cover parking for the bikes, which is quite rare at old country pubs. After we settled into our room, we walked down town in search of an A.T.M., then to the local camping store where I splurged and bought a sub-zero cocoon style compact sleeping bag and a woollen beanie. I assured myself I would not endure another cold nights sleep like the previous night. The old pub provided a very comfortable T. V. lounge room and after a good meal at a famous food outlet, we watched the news to see what was happening in the rest of the world before climbing into bed.

DAY 4

We ate a light breakfast in a room adjacent to the kitchen, chatting to a lady and her children on their way back to Adelaide. On packing my bike, I made sure my new sleeping bag would not fall off by strapping it right around the pannier with a webbing strap I carried in case of emergencies, in conjunction with two ocky straps.

The ride started off in cool, sunny weather, but rapidly deteriorated and by the time we reached Manahill, across the border into South Australia, we were riding into bitterly cold westerly wind again. Manahill is a quaint little one horse town with a petrol bowser (locked up of course), a pub and general store combined and a few houses and an abandoned railway station of brick structure. I walked over to the railway station to admire the colonial architecture (and to warm my feet), which to me seemed totally out of place in this comparative wilderness ,yet was a constant reminder of past days. I gather that at some time it had been a busy rail depot which was evident by a network of tracks and sidings and a stationary hand operated crane rusting away. Just before we left, the Indian Pacific train passed through and we raced off to catch up with, it which we eventually did, and clocked it traveling at 110 K.P.H.

  At this stage the weather turned bleak and extremely cold and by the time we reached Peterborough, we were bitterly cold and decided to put our wet weather pants on and any other warm clothes we had with us. This of course meant a lengthy delay, but so what, we weren't in any particular hurry to face the cold again. Judy had so many clothes on that I had to lift her leg over the bike seat for her to mount it. It was worth stopping, because the ride from then on to Port Augusta was a lot more pleasant, as we passed through a mountain range with a few nice sweeping bends. We rode through a few scuddy rain squalls and eventually stopped at a servo at Port Augusta for lunch and fuel, where a bottomless mug of piping hot coffee was of great comfort. We had decided to head down the Eyre Peninsular south from Port Augusta and stop at Wyralla for the night, where we soon found the tourist information centre and enquired about a cheap pub. They were most helpful and gave us the names of, and directions to,  two such pubs and told us that if we had arrived half an hour earlier we could have joined a guided tour of the frigate H.M.A.S. Wyralla, which was up on blocks right at the information centre. Apparently this ship, a world war 2 corvette, was the first ship built at Wyralla's B.H.P. shipyard in 1941 and now housed a maritime museum.

We rode the short distance to the first pub, which had no vacancies, but had better luck with the second one and secured a pleasant two bedroom suite and soon occupied it for the night. We parked the bikes in a private car park opposite the back of the pub, and although a business man leaving the car park warned us that it was not for hotel guests, and was patrolled after hours, we left the bikes there, locked up and covered, then lugged our gear up to the hotel suite. After settling in we took our usual stroll down town to stretch our legs and check the place out. We bought a snack for tea, which we ate back in the rooms and had an early night. We had traveled 500 Km. that day and were glad of the rest. We decided that if the weather had not improved by morning, we would forfeit our ride down the Eyre Peninsular and cut across to Iron Knob, and then on to Ceduna and the Nullabour and perhaps , if time permitted, we would tour the peninsular on the way home.

DAY 5

As it happened, it was a fine morning when we woke, so we decided to revert to plan "A" and head south. After breakfasting in our room on rations we carried with us , we were soon on our way. Our first stop was the seaside village of Cowel, where we visited a museum for about an hour. I found it most interesting, as I do most museums, and learnt a lot about the area by listening to the old chap who gave us a personal conducted tour of the museum. The area is renowned for its fishing and agriculture, as well as gold mining in its earlier days. It was first settled in 1853 and was given its present name in 1880. Back on the road again riding south, we encountered strong westerly gusts of wind which forced us to lean the bikes over to prevent being blown off. In spite of the wind, which we treated as a challenge, we enjoyed the country side immensely being rich in agriculture and with an interesting road that led us through sometimes hilly terrain, and, it seamed,  in no time at all we reached Tumby Bay, where we stopped for lunch at a seaside fish cafe.

This area is renowned for its fishing as well as its grain production and in fact was an important grain loading port as far back as 1874 when the first jetty was constructed there . In those early days the grain was shipped to Adelaide and other cities but now road transport has taken over and it is mostly transported by ship from Port Lincoln .

Having read through some of the brochures we were starting to accumulate, we thought we would inspect a blacksmiths museum about 40 Km. north of Port Lincoln set in the picturesque Kipio Hills .We found the turn off and had a great ride into the hills but lOKm. from the museum the road deteriorated into rough gravel, and since by now it was starting to drizzle , we gave it a miss and rode back to the highway and on to Port Lincoln where we booked a room for the night in on old pub in the docks area with grain silos in close proximity.

There not being any shortage of museums in this town, we settled on a shell collection, which was housed in a building in the retirement village and like a lot of private museums, is maintained by retired people . We had no trouble in finding it but it was closed, so Judy had to enquire at the office of the village as regards to getting the museum opened for our inspection. She seemed to be away for quite a while doing this and I figured she was chatting to some of the old folk (which after all is part of her job), when, after a while, an old lady toddled down with her knitting under her arm and opened the museum up for us. The collection of shells was unbelievable and we spent quite some time there inspecting them . There were thousands of shells from all over the world, as well as star fish sea urchins, model boats and a nice collection of children's dolls and countless other items. We both found it to be a fascinating display and something different to what we had seen before. Back at he hotel we rested till tea time, then enjoyed a nice meal in the dining room, finishing it off with sticky date pudding .The meal was so enjoyable, 1 felt the need to compliment it with a glass or two of their 'house red' wine.

While talking to a permanent resident of the pub later in the night over a cup of coffee in the T. V. lounge room, I was informed that the silos we saw contained wheat and fertilizer . He was a knowledgeable fellow and at one stage in his life had worked in the tobbaco growing industry in Myrtleford, Victoria, so we had a good chat about the towns of Bright, Harriotville and Mt. Hotham closeby, where I had visited in a previous life many years ago , but that's another story.

DAY 6

We woke up a little later than usual (my excuse was the red wine) to a wet and windy morning. Yuk!!! We had come to expect this by now, realizing that it was the wrong time of the year to be touring on a motor bike across the bottom of Australia ,not all that far from the Antarctic, but that another opportunity may never present itself. After a quick brekky in the T. V. lounge come breakfast room , we loaded the bikes up for another days sight seeing. Judy was sick of lugging her gear up and down the stairs at these old pubs, so she threw it over the balcony for me to catch. We both had a bit of a bitch that morning about the rain but once again were pleased we did not have to pack up a wet camp. There was a lot to see in this town and we left with great reluctance, as our time was limited, if we wanted to get to Bunbury in time for the wedding. Rather than hang around town, we decided we would call in at some of the tourist attractions on the way up the west coast of the peninsular, on our way to Ceduna.

On the way out of town, we discovered a very quaint little sheltered bay to the south-east of town,  where the water was bright blue and the fishing and pleasure craft were moored in complete safety, from the rough sea. We lost our directions once but asked some passers by and were soon directed to the Flinders Highway, which led us to Coffin Bay, a very popular seaside destination for holiday makers . I never did find out how it got it's name. Travelling on through squally rain and sun showers, we stopped for fuel at the little village of Elliston, where the toilet block and Tourist information centre outer walls were totally covered with murals depicting bygone days. Fortunately, it had stopped raining and we were able to walk around and have a good look at them. Our next stop was about 40 Km. south of Streaky Bay, where we inspected Murphy's Haystacks, a pink granite outcrop of boulders standing upright in a most prodigious manner. They are reputed to be over I5OOmillion years old and resemble hay stacks and are a unique tourist attraction, hence the name . The poor Irish cop it again.

Streaky bay was our lunch stop, then we refueled at the Shell roadhouse, come tourist information centre, which housed a life size fiberglass model of the great white shark which is prominent in this region. Heavy rain between Streaky Bay and Ceduna caused my speedo to work intermittently, as it did earlier in the year in Tassie. I still had my rev. counter to guide me so all was not lost. Most of the day, the country was green and fertile and we enjoyed the day in spite of the rain. It was raining heavily by the time we reached Ceduna late that afternoon, and the lady at the servo suggested we stay at the hotel / motel which has a lock up area, rather than the caravan park. Being of a suspicious nature , I sometimes think they work on a commission, although we took her advice and booked in there. It was a very posh motel about, three star, and we enjoyed the luxury of hair dryers to dry our wet boots and gloves and a clothes dryer to dry Judy's wet riding jeans. A plastic security card was used to open a sliding grille gate to get in and out of the place. The room had a big T. V., toaster, jug, the lot and we indulged ourselves in the luxury, although the bistro prices were a bit rich, which prompted us to walk down town to a fish cafe where we enjoyed a nice meal. We were convinced that this may be the last night in home comfort ,and I am glad to say that we were so wrong, for we were soon to discover the Nullarbor crossing offers something for everybody, in accommodation and scenery.

DAY 7

We left Ceduna at 9 am. after having our complimentary breakfast, in the dining room, with plenty of other guests ,as it was school holiday time and the place was a buzz with tourists. We rode through a few light showers and were thankful that the heavy wind had abated. The country side was still green and fertile almost to Penong, with very little wild life except for one mangy looking dingo . We had lunch at Nullarbor roadhouse where the landscape changed dramatically. By now there were no trees in sight and the scrubby landscape had browned off and it reminded me of the country we had seen between Cobar and Broken Hill, earlier in the trip.

We stopped many times that afternoon and rode the short distance south off the Eyre Highway to inspect and photograph the beautiful coast line of the Great Australian Bight. I particularly remember the Bunda Cliffs which were as spectacular as the Great Ocean Road, of Victorian fame. There were no safety fences on these cliff tops and there was a notice warning not to stand too close to the edge, especially if there was a northerly wind blowing. I guess that covered them for litigation in the event of any accidents. At one of these stops we met a lone motorcyclist on his way back from riding a Honda ST1100 right around Australia We took his photo with his camera and he took ours with mine. We stopped at the border town of S. A. and W. A,  to refuel and have a coffee, before we passed through the border check point into W. A. where any fruit carried had to be confiscated. Judy asked the customs guy where the hell he thought we could carry fruit as loaded as we were ?. We rode on to Madura that afternoon, where by which time, we needed our headlights to find our way. Riding into the spectacular sunset was an experience I will never forget with the dark clouds fringed by the rays of the setting sun. We booked a cabin at Madura, a funny little place with nothing much there except the roadhouse hotel / motel although in close proximity in 1876 there had been a station which bred horses for the British army in India.

We chummed up with a Canadian couple we had met earlier in the day who had also stayed at Ceduna the previous night .They were suitably impressed with the Nullabor. A nice meal offish and chips and two cans of W.A. beer at $5.40 ea. finished off what had been the nicest day travelling so far. As a point of interest, Madura is mid way between Adelaide and Perth, and have their own water distillation plant, the water being most acceptable,so we filled up our drinking bottles. I don't like buying water.!!

DAY 8

On leaving Madura, we climbed up a mountain road, in the middle of the Nullarbor Plains, which came as a complete shock to us , and it was exciting after the hundreds of kliks we had travelled in the past few days on flat terrain. We found out later it is known as the Madura Pass. Another interesting feature of the Eyre Highway is the Royal Flying Doctor Service emergency landing strips, which consist of a section of the road widened to form an air strip. Having unlimited time to reminisce , they took me back to 1950 when we used to ride our old bikes on Mount Druitt Air Strip (Sydney), before it was made into a racing circuit and subsequent housing estate in later years. One has plenty of time to ponder while travelling the Eyre Highway and I found that I had to be careful not to loose concentration and come to grief. We had been warned the previous night that this section of road between Madura and Cocklebiddy would be splattered with road kill caused by over night transporters and this warning proved to be correct.

The rear tyre on the Virago was wearing rapidly and needed replacement, so as it happened, the garage proprietor ,himself a motorcyclist, suggested we ring ahead to Esperence and order a new tyre to be fitted the next day. Judy took his advice and discovered they had one in stock and would keep it for her. After leaving Cocklebiddy we rode 64Km. to Caiguna , refueled then travelled 146Km. in a perfectly straight line , being the longest stretch of straight road in Australia. Even this was not boring due to the change in scenery from time to time. We had to call on my jerry can of fuel several times that day and it soon became known as our "friend in the fridge".

Just out of Balladonia, our next port of call, we came across a burnt out semi trailer smouldering on the side of the road. I found out later it had been caused by a seized trailer wheel bearing which allowed the tyre to overheat and burst into flames. The accident had happened the previous afternoon and fortunately the driver had managed to escape uninjured.

Balladonia road house is a most interesting place to visit. Apart from fuel, grog, and great food, it houses a cultural heritage museum using the latest in computer controlled interactive technology to recreate the areas history. Aboriginal dream time, pioneers, Afghan camel drivers, the Redex trial and the crash landing of N.A.S.A.'s Skylab in 1979 are some of the features depicted.

The terrain started to change dramatically after we left Balladonia, with some trees starting to appear, then thickening up, and with the Frazer range to the north which is surrounded by the worlds biggest eucalyptus hardwood forest. The Frazer Range station nearby, which we did not get to see , is currently stocked with meat sheep produced for the export market.

  Next stop was Norseman, where we took the Esperence Highway south, arriving in Esperence by late afternoon. We had no trouble locating the bike shop having been given good directions, and while Judy was having a rear tyre fitted to Vivian (her chosen name for the Virago), I rode to the caravan park on Esperence Bay and booked an on site van for the night. The annex to this on site van was something else . It was a big carpeted area with glass sliding entrance door, and housed a dining table and chairs a T.V. and a three piece lounge and it was reasonably priced. even if they required a $50 deposit on the key, as we were to find out later on the trip, was common with most caravan parks we visited in W.A. We bought food at the caravan park store and cooked our tea, just for a change. The remainder of the evening after tea was spent writing up our diaries, map reading and browsing through the many travel brochures we had accumulated. The T.V. reception was lousy so it offered us a good opportunity to plan our stopover points till we reached Bunbury.

DAY 9

After doing our homework the previous night, we discovered that Esperence has a population of 14000 and is nestled on a beautiful island filled bay, obviously known as the Bay of Islands and the scenery is just as spectacular as its namesake's in New Zealand's north island. One of the many tourist attractions there is the Tanker jetty built in 1935 . Before breakfast we walked to the jetty and right out on it as far as it went and we watched the sun rise over the bay. Wouldn't you know it I left my camera back at the camp !! There were fishermen there catching squid which we found interesting to watch. I don't know what they were using for bait or for that matter if they were using any bait at all, but they were catching quite a few. On the way back we bumped into a fellow Ulyssian from Perth, holidaying in the area, and exchanged greetings with him before heading back to the van for breakfast.

It was 8.30 am. by the time we left the caravan park and light misty rain was falling as we rode to lookout point at the southern end of town. The lookout there offered a 360 degree view of the most unusual islands, some with very high peaks and surrounded by the brilliant blue water, while in contrast the view inland displayed glorious green hillside with mansions dotted here and there. It is indeed a beautiful place . We rode the scenic drive around part of the bay intending to continue on to the next town but we enjoyed the ride so much we turned around and rode back again to Esperence. On the return trip we stopped close by the enormous wind turbines. I had seen wind turbines before, but being so close to them their size impressed me as did the quietness of their operation.

One sight I will never forget was the storm clouds with a single ray of sunlight shining through and lighting up a small island in the middle of the bay. Unfortunately by the time I had stopped to take a photo, the sunshine had gone, but the spectacle remains with me. It was 10 am. by the time we reluctantly said farewell to this fair city, for there was so much to see there, but we still had a long way to ride and the weather was turning sour. We rode in drizzle for most of the morning, stopping for lunch at a servo at Ravensthorpe , before riding the 110 kliks of straight road in exactly one hour.

We arrived at Albany by 4.45pm. and were directed to the visitor centre, where a kind lady rang around and located accommodation at the nearby backpackers lodge. We parked our bikes in the rear of the pub nearby, locked them up, and covered them before lugging our gear up the stairs to our modest room which was a contrast to our accommodation of the previous night. After settling in, and chatting to some of the young quests, we walked to town and ate in a kebab cafe where we enjoyed a very nice meal and pleasant conversation with the proprietor, or one of his staff. A phone call to home, a visit to an A.T.M, and the walk back to our room, completed another adventurous day with plenty more to follow. It was exciting, because that night I was to try out my new sleeping bag.

DAY 10

Well, now to report on my new sleeping bag. It is plenty long enough and warm enough but I found it a bit restrictive . I could not turn over in it, but it is after all called a cocoon and I believe the whole lot, body and bag, is intended to turn over together. After sleeping in wider bags on and off for the past 60 or so years, it took a bit of getting used to . Judy made the comment that I looked like a big grub rolling over. I slept till 5am. before needing a wee walk and Judy went for a long walk for an hour or so while I lay in bed, dozing and listening to the A.B.C. on my wireless. The complimentary breakfast left a lot be desired, consisting only of tea or coffee and toast and no cereal or fruit, however, it filled a hole . We rode off in search of the dog rock, which is a popular tourist attraction but could not find it, so we gave up the search and instead we visited a lookout Gwen had told me of the previous night while on the phone. Like Esperence it also gave a panoramic view of the whole area. Albany is a big city spread over a huge area. Once again, Islands were dotted here and there in the bay but we did not consider it as attractive as Esperence. We rode out of town to the Natural Stone Bridge and admired the spectacular blue ocean crashing against the volcanic rock formations. Next stop was Frenchman's Bay Whaling Station, that has not been used as such since the legal slaughter of these magnificent animals ceased in 1975. The whole complex has been lovingly restored and converted into a fantastic museum to retain part of our heritage. We watched a " miniature dialogue" performance depicting life in the early days of whaling right up to 1975. After that, we watched three movies of the whaling industry with all it's hazards and excitement, and a lot of bloody hard yakka. Uniquely, the movies were shown inside old whale oil storage vats which had been cleaned and converted into reasonably comfortable theatres which had some very interesting lighting effects. After the movies, we climbed all over the moored whaling vessel, the Cheynes IV, to inspect the engine room, chart room, harpoons, galley and sleeping quarters. Believe me, those guys did it pretty rough.

We left Albany and rode on and grabbed a bite to eat at a servo at Denmark then continued on to inspect the " Tree top Walk" in the Valley of the giants, Walpol -Noralup National Park. It was quite different to anything I have ever experienced, walking along a suspended swinging platform, 40 metres above the tops of very old Tingle and Karri trees, but no Jarrah trees in this area. Apart from gaining a spectacular view of the magnificent trees, the construction of the walkway impressed me greatly the way it fitted in without any detriment to the forest. Building it would have been a mammoth engineering task. The tingle tree has a huge buttress type trunk and we went on a walk, at ground level, where the path passed right through the tree trunks that had been subjected to bushfires god knows how long ago ,yet were still standing like giants watching over their domain. After a pleasant hour or so there, it was getting late and time to seek accommodation for the night so we rode the short distance into Walpole, but the motel prices there were a bit rich for our budget, so we retraced our steps to a road we had seen earlier in the day, which led to a nice quiet caravan park on a lakes edge, where we rented a cabin for the night at half the cost.

It was very comfortable after a busy day and the amenities block was close by and spotlessly clean. A hot shower went very well before cooking a snack from our larder, complemented with raisin bread from the camp kiosk right opposite our cabin.

DAY 11.                        

I woke up early and read for a while before going for a walk through the camping area, admiring the scenery, for half an hour waiting for Judy to wake up. By the time we ate our usual light breakfast and packed the bikes it was 9am, before we left the caravan park after a very restfull stay. We fuelled up at Walpole and I had a craving for fresh fruit, so bought four pink ladies (apples) and munched into one immediately. We had a particularly scenic ride that morning through heavily timbered trees, which I think must have been Karri, which the west is renowned for. It was an eventful ride in many respects as we saw an emu in the wild, a parrot flew into the crash bars on the bike and disintegrated, and I almost ran over a black Kelpie pup who tried to commit suicide by running in front of me. I was thankfull the A.B.S. brakes on "Braun" worked well. We refueled once again at the quaint little village of Pemberton where I could smell coal burning. I remembered that smell from way back and before long a steam train started up in the distance and shortly after it appeared on the scene and crossed the road in front of us belching smoke and steam and proudly blowing it's whistle. I would like to have ridden on it for old times sake, but time did not permit, so we took a short cut to get onto the Mannup Road, which brought us out onto the Bussell Highway and before long we reached Margaret River. We rode into the town and took shelter from the drizzling rain and munched on a meat pie for lunch. It struck me as a very pretty area, but the weather could have been a bit more inviting for us. There are about forty or so vineyards in the Margaret River area and consequently plenty of wineries and eating places, but touring around in the rain, visiting them, wasn't on the agenda. Maybe I will return there some fine day. Judy had been asked by a friend back home to inspect a house at Margaret River and report back on its appearance from the outside. We found it without difficulty but it did not impress us; however, she had done what she had been asked to do, so we continued on our way. We rode on pretty smartly towards Bunbury and picked up the Ocean Drive, which took us straight to the tourist park, where we had pre-booked a cabin for the next three nights , to allow Judy to meet up with her relatives and attend her nephews wedding. It was a good set up, with self contained units close by, where some of her family were booked in, having flown over from Grafton. I met them all and was invited to go to tea with them, but did not want to impose , although I was most welcome, so I elected to stay in camp, keep an eye on the clothes dryer, cook a bit of tea and have an early night. I fell asleep watching telly, which is something I do quite often at home, and only vaguely remember Judy returning, but was soon in the land of nod again after yet another exciting day.

DAY 12.

That morning Judy's mum and sister came over to our cabin for breakfast, as they had not yet been shopping since arriving in Bunbury. We left the bikes covered up all day and gave them a well earned rest, since the only problems they had given us so far was a blown headlight globe, an intermittent speedo, and a tyre replacement and I regret to say the first two faults were on the Beemer.

After breakfast we all walked back to the apartment block and met up with more of Judy's rellys and some of the brides. Judy's brother and sister in law had driven across the Nullarbor from Griffith in their camper van and had gone north at Norseman and on to Kalgoorlie, then direct to Perth and Bunbury. Apparently they were a couple of days ahead of us and had experienced the strong westerly wind across the "big paddock" that we encountered on the Eyre Peninsular. Judy and I spent the rest of the morning walking to the shops, stocking up on groceries and learning a bit about Bunbury and environs from the tourist information centre, that is housed in the old railway station building, which has also been converted to a bus terminal. I had a snooze after lunch, my first "power nap" since I left home ,and then did some map reading while Judy visited her family again.

I made a very important phone call to Dongara, just south of Geraldton, to Ken, the son of our mutual friend Gwen . He had offered to put us up for the night on our return trip, after visiting Perth, so we made final arrangements for this meeting. Later that afternoon, I went for a long walk with Judy's brother and her brother in law, looking for a ships chandler without any success, then back to their apartment for a few beers, before returning to our cabin. That night Judy and I returned to their apartment for a nice three course meal and a few more beers, and after dinner we were entertained by watching photos Robyn had taken with her new digital camera on their trip across . Due to the miracles of modern technology, we were able to watch them on T. V. which beats falling asleep watching colour slides as we did years ago. After a very pleasant evening in a homely atmosphere, we strolled back to our cabin and were in bed by 9.30pm.

DAY 13.

The day of the wedding had finally arrived, but never the less, we decided to do a bit of sight seeing on the bikes in the morning. We packed a picnic lunch and travelled south to explore the seaside town of Busselton, which is famous for its two kilometer long jetty, jutting out into a sheltered bay in the Indian Ocean. The jetty has a train track with a small train taking tourists out to an underwater marine observatory . We elected to walk the jetty rather than take the train ,only to find out when we reached the end of the jetty that unfortunately the observatory was closed in the winter months, which was a bit of a disappointment, as there was no mention of closures in the glossy advertising brochures. There was however a modern souvenir shop right on the jetty closer to shore which we found very interesting. Apparently over the years the jetty had been wrecked several times by severe storms and at one stage had been partially destroyed by fire as the graphic photos on display indicated.

We located a bike shop in Busselton where Judy was able to buy an oil filter for the Virago to fit when we reached Ken's place at Dongara. I carried one with me for my bike together with the B.M.W. tool required to change it. It was a nice day and we enjoyed the ride back to Bunbury, visiting a few lookouts before arriving back at our cabin.

By mid afternoon it was time for Judy to dress for the big event. To avoid carrying her wedding clothes on the bike, her mum had brought them with her by plane and she looked very smart when all dressed up. I even took a photo of her in her "posh clothes" before she went off to meet the others to attend the wedding service. I elected to take myself for a long walk, it being such a nice afternoon, in search of a museum I never did find , and after walking for about three kilometers I turned back. Bunbury, from my observations ,is a strange town with new buildings in the central business district, close to where we were staying, and older houses and churches in what appeared to be the industrial and commercial area on the outskirts of town. It is spread over a large area and a push bike would sure be handy there. I arrived back at the cabin at 5.30pm. to have a rest and write up my diary, for I must have walked ten kilometers that day. Judy came back from the wedding ceremony with tired and sore feet from shoes she was unaccustomed to wearing, so she changed into her comfortable riding boots, with her slacks pulled over the top of them to help conceal them, prior to attending the reception which was conveniently located in a yacht club nearby. She enjoyed the reception amongst family and new found "in laws" and arrived home exhausted in the wee small hours.

DAY 14.

We awoke to another nice sunny day. It wasn't an early rise as we did not intend travelling very far and Judy needed the sleep after a late night. She relayed the previous nights festivities to me while we were munching on eggs and bacon and it appeared that a good time was had by all. I had been teasing her for days that she would have to make a speech, but it didn't eventuate.

We packed our bikes and rode the short distance over to the units , said our goodbyes to her relatives and left Bunbury at about 10.30am, headed for Perth, to spend a couple of nights there, before going on to Ken's place at Dongara. Somehow we became separated on the way to Fremantle , due to a misunderstanding, but the mobile phones came to the rescue and we were soon reunited and on our way again. There were a lot of bikes on the road that day, in groups and singly, as it was a perfect winters day for riding. The 110 K.P.H. speed limit in W. A. seemed to satisfy most riders and drivers and we certainly enjoyed it as there was a very small police presence on the road. We had only seen one highway patrol car since crossing into W.A. a week ago.

We enjoyed the ride, passing through a lot of new housing estates, near Mandurah, and stopped at Rockingham, for fuel and a snack. An old bloke on an equally old B.M.W. boxer was interested to hear about our travels. Most times we stopped for fuel in W.A, someone would see the N.S.W plates and Ulysses badge and be on for a yarn, as was a Ulysses lady at Fremantle, our next stop, where we enquired about the ferry to Rottnest Island.

We decided against visiting the island, as the short time we had would not do it justice and we both wanted to spend the time in Perth. I was amazed at all the building development on the west coast, and on enquiring, was told they were screaming out for building tradesmen.

Leaving Fremantle, we bypassed Perth city, mostly travelling on the West Coast Highway, except for getting lost a few times, but as my old Grandpa used to say, you're not lost while you have a tongue in your head. We had been studying the location of caravan parks on the outskirts of Perth for several days now, but happened to stumble across one near Scarborough, about mid afternoon, where we booked into an ancient, yet comfortable, on site van for the night. The lady in the office, come store, was most pleasant but knew very little about the caravans since she had only started working there that day and obviously had very little training. She made a phone call, however and soon directed us to our van and I was quite surprised that for the second time now in W.A. they required a $50 deposit on the key, and I thought I had an honest face. The joke of it was that after all this, we then had a hell of a time getting the key to open the lock .

We soon settled in, and while Judy caught up on some sleep after her previous late night, I went for a walk to the Scarborough seaside village. Perhaps it is wrong to call it a village, as it was more like Surfers Paradise on the N.S.W. / QLD. border with its high rise apartments, busy streets, and people of all ages everywhere you looked. There was a car parking area between the buildings and the ocean, where a lot of young people were gathered, with their flash cars. It was a surprise to see armed security guards on patrol there in the middle of the afternoon, presumably to prevent any wild behavior, while close by, in contrast, middle aged and elderly people sat in open cafes sipping their chardonnay and cafe latte. On doing a bit of research, I was to discover that Scarborough Beach is the closest surfing beach to Perth, and in the summer time is even more crowded. I assimilated it to Bondi beach, one of Sydney's most popular beaches.

The caravan park store was well stocked, and we bought snags and tinned veggies for tea, cooking them in our van, then we watched a bit of telly, before turning in for an early night. We needed our rest, as the next day we were heading into "town" by public transport to explore Perth and environs, and were quite excited at the prospect.

DAY 15

After breakfast, Judy did the washing, and hung it up on the Hills hoist, there being no clothes dryer available. We then walked a short distance up the road to a bus stop where we caught a bus into Scarborough, then changed onto another bus, which took us right into Perth City terminal, which links up with the rail system there. We had read about a red ,open top double decker, sightseeing bus, which drove tourists around the city, but no one seemed to know much about it, so we decided to hoof it through the city, and down to the Swan River, that I had heard so much about from my early school days. We also enquired at a couple of high rise city buildings, as to whether any tall city buildings had a viewing gallery, and we struck a blank there also, as it seemed none existed in Perth. The city was bustling, as all big cities are, with people of all nationalities hurrying to work, and by this time it was peak hour. The central business district is elevated from the Swan River and is well planned, with streets running parallel at decreasing levels right down onto Riverside Drive, where lo and behold, the red double decker bus was waiting to depart on the tourist drive of the city. We were pleased we had stumbled onto it, and immediately bought our tickets and boarded it only minutes before its departure. It took us all over the city, right out to the picturesque Kings Park which offered a perfect view of the Swan River, back again via a different route to the 24 hour casino complex at Burswood . The commentary was good and we spent a pleasant morning, sitting in the sun, absorbing the culture of this beautiful city, with its old buildings with modem skyscrapers intermingled. The bus stopped at quite a few places, enabling passengers to hop on and off, before it finally came to rest at the Esplanade, where we had caught it an hour and a half earlier.

We inspected a very modern bell tower incorporating the "bells of St. Martins" and for good luck, rubbed the kneck of two bronze statues of black swans at a fountain nearby.

Feeling a bit peckish by now, we walked back up the hill to William St. and joined the lunchtime queue at Hungry Jacks for a burger and drink. It was a busy place, with Macdonalds take away housed under the same roof. Being school holiday time, it was packed with tourists as well as business people on their lunch break, and we had a job to find a table . I noticed a lot of dark people of Indian appearance and a splattering of orientals, but very few people of Aboriginal extraction.

To walk our meal down, we strolled through several arcades and explored some of the many souvenir shops, looking for bargains, which we eventually found and bought up big for the folks back home, on the other side of this vast continent. By mid afternoon we'd had enough of crowds, so we walked back to the bus terminal to catch our transport back to Scarborough before the peak hour traffic started, both of us glad we had not attempted to ride our bikes through the city. We discovered a "Subway" food outlet at Scarborough, so ate healthy that night, after taking the clothes off the line at 4.15pm. when we reached the caravan. That night we studied our maps, to determine the best way out of Perth, to take us on the next leg of our journey, then marked up maps to use in our tank bag display panel.

  It was a run down older type caravan park with a lot of "permanents" but conveniently located. The showers left a lot to be desired, for I nearly scalded myself when the handle fell off the cold water tap, and the hot water increased in temperature at the same time, but these are some of the joys of budget accommodation. In spite of these little drawbacks, we thoroughly enjoyed our short stay in Perth and she certainly turned on the good weather for us.

  Having enjoyed our brief stay in Perth, we were anxious to get on the road again, and the route we chose to get out of the suburbs proved to be successful. We had no trouble finding the Great Northern Highway, and after refueling the bikes somewhere near Ellenbrook, we were off again, riding in the drizzling rain till we reached the Windmill Road House, by which time the weather had really deteriorated to heavy rain and a cold wind, blowing off the Indian Ocean. At this point, we donned all our wet weather gear, after having a hot drink to warm us up. It was very disappointing, since we had so much been looking forward to visiting the Cervanties on the coast to photograph the unusual rock formations there, so we agreed to give it a miss, and possibly see them on our return trip from Dongara. It is not much fun sight seeing in the pouring rain, on a motor bike.

Our lunch stop was at Eneabba, about 80 km. from Ken's place at Dongara, and I was able to give him a call on a public phone,(there being no mobile phone reception there), to let him know we would be arriving earlier than expected. He gave us final directions, and, after another hour or so ride in lousy weather conditions, we eventually arrived at the turn off to his property, where he piloted us to the shelter of his huge shed, and subsequently, the comfort of his house. The track into Ken's place was very muddy, and I nearly dropped the Beemer turning into his shed. We were very pleased to have finished riding for the day. Judy was wringing wet, and she jumped into a hot shower to warm up. My wet weather gear had kept most of the rain out, and, while Judy was showering, Ken and I had a cuppa and got to know each other as we had not met before. The rain had stopped by then, so we sat on an old lounge chair on his front verandah and yarned away till "happy hour", which he insisted starts two hours earlier in W. A. due to the time difference. Who was I to argue? He makes a mean drop of home brew, and I found myself completely at home in these surroundings. I have been making home brew for a long time now, but after inspecting his brewery I learnt a thing or two.

The rear tyre on the Beemer needed replacing before the return trip across the "paddock", so we ordered one in Geraldton, and arranged to have it fitted the morning after next, which gave us a full day to service the bikes and do a bit of sight seeing around Dongara.

Ken lit the open fire in the lounge room, and after a very nice fish meal he prepared for us, we spent a pleasant evening in front of the fire, listening to country music and chatting, before turning in for a well earned sleep.

DAY 17.

After breakfast, we climbed into Ken's mobile home bus and he drove us into Dongara, to buy engine oil for the bikes, and he took us sight seeing to the "Obilisque", a monument built in 1869, dedicated to those seamen who had lost their lives to the cruel sea in local shipwrecks off the rugged coast. Recently a board walk had been erected in the vicinity of the "Obilisque", and viewing platforms provide a perfect vantage point to take in the panoramic ocean view.

This area offers great surfing beaches and is a popular tourist destination in the summer months. Speaking to my daughter Jenny by phone the previous night, I had been given strict instructions, that having travelled to the other side of Aus. I had to dip my toes in the Indian Ocean. The water looked bloody cold and uninviting, but having made a promise, I took off my boots, rolled up my duds, and had a paddle. Although it was a cold, windy day, the water was surprisingly warm, and I had Judy take a photo to prove my actions. The crayfish industry is quite active in this area, but being the off season, all the fishing boats were moored in a bay, protected from the rough sea by a man made breakwater. We bought the oils of our choice for the bikes, shopped in the supermarket, then drove back to Ken's place.

Ken's huge garage was perfect for servicing the bikes, and he came to our aid with oilpans, rags ,funnels, the few tools we did not carry with us and he even loaned me a pair of overalls to wear, even if they were a bit tight. Having helped us with the bikes, Ken fired up his old four stroke Yamaha "chook chaser" and I had a short ride on it. It certainly had some grunt, but the brakes worried me a bit. Ken has the bike road registered and rides it to town in good weather to do the shopping, instead of taking his mobile home bus.

After a late lunch of the biggest chook and salad sandwiches (including beetroot at Judy's request) that I have ever got my mouth around, Ken drove me over to a neighbour's place in his 'paddock basher' to inspect a collection of tractors, in all stages of restoration. The old chap was not at home, so we were not able to see the fully restored ones in the garage, but never the less, I found it very interesting, since my neighbour and I had recently restored an old grey Fergie tractor we share. Ken's neighbour also had the remains of a huge old stationry engine that occupies a complete shed. It used to be used somehow in conjunction with the old brick kiln which still remains, even if in ruins. There is a lot of history on that property and indeed in the whole area.

Next stop was a visit to John, another neighbour close by, who was in the process of building a "rammed earth " house, using steel roof trusses he and Ken had manufactured recently. I was particularly interested in the wall construction method, which basically consisted of special sand, cement and lime mixed and rammed dry into formwork, and I found John to be an interesting fellow to talk with. I had heard of this type of construction but this was the first time I had seen it. By this time it was 3 pm. and for my benefit, happy hour started, with Ken, John, Jim the electrician and me getting to know each other over a couple of social ales. When we arrived back at Ken's house, we descovered that Judy had been preparing a nice roast beef and vegie meal with all the trimmings, and after another session of home brew tasting, we did the meal justice. The rest of the evening was spent the same as the night before, relaxing in front of a log fire. I could get quite used to this.

DAY 18.

We left Kens place about 8.30am, after spending half an hour searching for Judy’s earplugs, which meant partially unpacking her bike , untill she eventually found them in a safe place. I was reluctant to leave, as we had enjoyed the break and the hospitality immensely, but we had a long way to go and a lot more to see. It rained heavily again on the coast, before we reached Geraldton, and due to major roadworks, we somehow missed a turning and ended up on the docks on the waterfront.We found a ships chandlers shop and parked our bikes partly under an awning and sheltered from the rain. We were wet, our bikes were wet and worst of all, our maps were wet. The shop owner gave us directions to the suburb where we were to have the tyre fitted on the Beemer, and before long the bike was in the workshop and I was enjoyong a hot coffee in the waiting room. They claimed the tyre they had intended fitting had not arrived, so they fitted another one, which was supposedly to have given better mileage. It was a lot more expensive than the price I had been quoted, but I was a long way from home and in no position to argue, for I was anxious to get on the road again. We had intended to take the time to have a look around Geraldton, which is a very big city, but, as previously, the weather was not conducive to sightseeing, so as soon as the bike was ready, we left Geraldton. We took a back road to Mingenew that Ken had told us about and, needless to say, did not return down the Brand Highway and across the coast to visit the Cervanties.

At Mingenew, we joined the Midlands Road, after having had a snack in a nice warm bakery cafe . We were getting further away from the coast by then, and the rain had stopped, the scenery was magnificent with undulating plains, crops and farm houses and we even saw  a few clumps of wildflowers, with a purple tint. Bugger me, it started raining again, but I was well prepared for it, and it did not stop me from enjoying the ride that afternoon (since I now had a full tread on my back tyre), and the strong wind had abated.

We rode through a lot of pretty little villages, till we reached the township of Moora, where we took a recently sealed wide road with nice sweeping bends and very little traffic all the way to Wongon Hills, on Highway 115. After a fuel stop at that town and a look at a huge statue of a farmer hauling a bag of wheat, we took a photo of a mural on the wall of a shop, depicting farming, as we were now in the wheat belt of W.A. We struck very little traffic that afternoon, but did come across two halves of a house being transported separately, on low loaders . I found out later thet they were possibly workmen's huts being transported to a different job location. A short ride from Wongan Hills brought us to the township of Goomalling, where we booked a room for the night in the old pub. I had a couple of drinks at the bar and struck up a conversation with some of the locals and workmen, who had been doing some restoration work on an old historic farmhouse, while Judy had a shower to warm up .

That night we had a particularly nice meal in the pub dining room, that had an open fire burning, and before very long we went back to our room to study the map for the next days ride. It was a freshly painted, cheery room, with comfortable beds, but oddly enough there were no windows or any other form of ventilation , although we had no trouble sleeping that night. It would have been a stinker in the summer.

DAY 19.

The complementry breakfast that morning was very good and much better than that memorable one we had at the backpacker's hostel in Albany, on day 10 of the trip, which seemed like months ago, as we had seen such a lot in a short space of time. We packed the bikes, and had a yarn with the same workmen I had been chatting with in the bar the previous afternoon. They were young fellows, and were very interested in our journey, and I think would like to have been riding with us. They gave us directions to leave the town, and take the road to Northam, to join up with The Great Eastern Highway, which would take us to Kalgoorle- Boulder. We rode through heavy fog, which lifted by the time we reached Meckering. Not long after we set off,  we rode into a flock of Galahs, on the road in the fog. They managed to get out of the way in time although reluctant to stop feeding on the spilt grain on the road.

We stoped at Cundering, and had a look at the Ettamogah Pub, complete with truck on the roof. I think there must be several of them in Aus., as I have seen the identical pub in Queensland. There was a water tower for the old steam trains, and a tractor museum there also . We got talking to an elderly couple, travelling with an old caravan in tow, and I happened to notice one of the caravan tyres was worn down to the canvas. He was pleased I had noticed it and was replacing it as we rode off.

Lunch stop was at a roadhouse at Southern Cross, about halfway between Perth and Kalgoorlie- Boulder, where we both refuelled. In spite of this, Judy's bike needed more fuel before we reached Coolgardie , and as luck would have it, we came across the funny little town of Bulla Bulling, with an old pub built right on ground level, a petrol bowser and not much else. There was a sign on the pub awning which read "Rock Tavern.. last chance ice cold beer and petrol for long long time",which I found equally as amusing as the crumpled up little old lady who served us.

Coolgardie was our next stop, and we found it to be very interesting. It had once been a very prosperous town, which was evident by the magnificent old stone buildings, the town hall having been converted into the Tourist Information Centre. One of the pubs had a chainwire fence around it for security reasons, as it had been vacant since 1965 . There was a sign indicating that it had been one of the 23 hotels in town in it's hayday. Apparently it had been put up for auction in 1965 , but there were no bidders, so it was simply abandoned and is now a tourist attraction. I bet it could tell a few stories. The roofing was missing off the first floor verandah and there was a big sign advertising that the building was air conditioned, which tickled my fancy.

Over the years fires had destroyed a lot of the shantys in the town, as there were vacant blocks everywhere, with the streets still intact, and much of the area had been turned into parks and gardens.

We rode the 40 or so kliks onto Kalgorlie- Boulder, and booked a cabin for two nights at the first caravan park we came to. We unpacked and Judy did the washing and used the clothes dryer. She even shamed me into washing my black skivy that I had been wearing under my jacket thermal liner for the past 18 days. At this stage my air pillow that I had been carrying in the pannier bag, with the jerry can, had somehow managed to get petrol spilt on it, so we washed it by hand and hung it up to dry, but I never did get the smell out of it. The caravan park had a well stocked store, as they mostly do, so we bought something to cook for tea, after which we read up on the tourist brochures we had gathered, to formulate a plan to see as much of this fair city as we could the next day. We watched an interesting movie on telly then had a good nights sleep. I used my new sleeping bag for the second time and was very pleased with it.

                                                                                                                                                              Day 20.

Our first tourist attraction to visit was an old chemist shop in Boulder, which was still trading as a modern shop, but had some very interesting artifacts and medicine bottles in the pharmacy museum side of the shop. Judy's husband, John, collects old bottles and she reckoned he would have liked to have seen them. Next stop was to have been a railway tour, not far away at an old railway station, but it was not operating, so we headed to Kalgorlie to the Prospectors Hall of Fame. We were too late for the 1 am. mine inspection, but had a good look at the mineral exhibits, housed in a very modern building, that had a lift that took us to the roof, to observe what an old mining town looked like. Part of it was original and authentic and some had been built especially to simulate the early days. It reminded me of Sovereign Hill in Ballarat. We witnessed gold being heated up in a crucible, to be poured into ingots, then quenched in cold water, the entire operation being described by a  learned ex miner. After this, we queued up till it was our turn to be lowered down a mine shaft in a cage, to walk around the labarinth of tunnels way below the ground. There was also a demonstration of a pneumatic jack hammer in use, chipping away at the walls, for the ore to be carted up to ground level for crushing. It occurred to Judy that she and I had now been down a silver mine in Broken Hill, an opal mine in Lightening Ridge, and now a Gold mine.

We were told a lot of stories of the early miners, one of which I will relate. Apparently the toilet facilities were primitive, and the dunny cans had to be emptied daily, which was the responsibility of one man, usually a retired miner. The story goes that stolen gold from the mine was wrapped in hessian, and concealed in the dunny cans. This was not discovered till such time as the "dunny man" showed signs of extreme wealth, having emptied the cans and sold the gold. I guess this may be how the term "nuggets" originated.

The next attraction we visited was the Golden Mile Super Pit, the biggest working open cut mine in Australia. The huge dump trucks, bringing the ore up from way down below, looked like "match box "toys from the viewing platform. We learnt that each vehicle was worth four million dollars and one tyre, about four metres in diameter ,cost twenty five thousand dollars, and I thought my bike tyre in Geraldton was expensive!! We rode back to the main street of the city where the W.A. Museum housed a lot of mining relics. We were able to join a conducted tour, which lasted half an hour, explaining a lot of the exhibits in detail, as well as showing us the government mint relics in the vault in the building basement. An elevator took us to the top of the building, which incorporated a mine head and the view of the city from this point was spectacular. Adjacent to the museum, and in recent years forming part of the museum, is the narrowest two storey hotel in the southern hemisphere, being only 3. 2 metres wide. It is called the British Arms Hotel and houses rooms as they were in 1899 complete with all furnishings, and it is reputed that the ghost of the landlady who mysteriously "fell" to her death down a flight of stairs in 1913 resides there to this day. We did not see her.

In the early days, Kalgoorlie and Boulder were two separate towns, however, as the years advanced and the towns expanded, it is now known as Kalgorlie - Boulder, a bit of a mouthfull, hence all the locals simply refer to it as "Kal" . The day was drawing to a close, so we visited a supermarket on the way back to the caravan park, to stock up on provisions for our ride back across "the big paddock", as the locals refer to the Nullarbour Plain. One of Judy's nephews, who lives in Kal, visited us in our cabin, and they had a lot to talk about, having both attended the wedding recently in Bunbury. He works in the mines at Kambalda, about 75 k's. from Kal. and he told us of his work there.

Although we only had a brief visit to Kal., we both enjoyed the sight seeing, and the history of the area, and the weather was kind to us which made all the difference.

DAY 21.

So much for the fine weather !! It was raining when we woke up, but eased off after breakfast, long enough to enable us to pack the bikes without getting wet. Having been caught once too often on this trip, we wore all our wet weather gear, which resulted in being to our advantage. Rather than ride back through Coolgardie, to join up with the Coolgardie- Esperence Highway, we rode through Kambalda, then joined the highway. We refuelled at Kambalda, and made sure my jerry can (Judy's friend in the fridge), was topped up. Choofing along at a fair rate, in and out of the showers, we got about halfway to Norseman, when Judys bike started to missfire and loose power, so much so that she pulled over to the side of the road. Between us we had the necessary tools to remove the plugs, and I discovered the rear one had practically no gap at all. Judy delved into a secret compartment on the Virago, and found two old spark plugs she had been carrying. While she was in the scrub removing numerous layers of clothing to visit nature, 1 had ample time to fit “new” plugs to the bike. We set off once again, and the bike didn't miss a beat for the rest of the trip, although she did replace the plugs with new ones when we reached Adelaide.

Judy's brother Richard, and his wife, who we had met up with in Bunbury, were travelling back the way we had ridden over, and we had tentatively arranged to perhaps meet up with them on our return journey . We reached them by mobile phone at Norseman, but they were over 100 K's away, so after refuelling and having a snack, we set off back across the Nullarbour, getting as far as Baladonia, for a late lunch. Having stopped there on the way over, we knew the tucker was good and inexpensive, and whilst there, we had another look at the museum in the same building as the road house. The rain had stopped, and we had a fairly strong tail wind, which was not causing us any problem, but later in the afternoon, riding the straight stretch between Baladonia and Caiguna, the wind swung around to the south, and the bikes were leaning over to counteract for the wind. The weather turned very cold, and in spite of me wearing my thick socks, that I had bought earlier in the year in Tasmania, my feet were practically numb. We reached Cocklebiddy by 4.30 pm. (Perth time), and booked a self contained room on the older section of the motel. We bought some take away food, and together with food we were carrying, had a nice meal in the warmth of our room. There was no T.V. in the room, so we read in bed, and had an early night to rest up for the 600 K. ride to Nundoo, the next day.

It was a lovely calm fine morning, so after saying goodbye, and thanking our young friend,  who had directed us to the bike shop in Esperence on our way over, we set off for Mandura, where the fuel at $ 1.41 per litre was the dearest on the trip. At that time, it was around a dollar at home. Having had a slower ride on the way over, by deviating to the coast sightseeing, we did not waste any time, and made it to the Nullarbour roadhouse for a late lunch. Not far out of Nullarbour village, we took a turn off to the " Great Australian Bight Marine Park" , bought our permits to enter, parked our bikes, and walked down to the whale viewing platform to do some serious whale watching. It proved to be quite successful, as we saw about ten whales, some with their young, and quite close to the shore. They were Southern Right Whales, and are usually seen in this "Head of Bight" when migrating north between June and October. It was a first for us both, and it was fascinating, watching them romp around in reasonably close proximity. lt was a wild and windy afternoon ,but with our beanies on, and wearing our riding jackets, we had the laugh on a lot of the other tourists. At about 4.15 pm, it was time to leave, and we rode to the Aboriginal run roadhouse at Yalata mission, but no accomodation was available, so we continued on a further 52 K's. to Nundroo, arriving in the dark, and managed to book a motel room for the night. I had trouble with my visa card, which showed "pin number rejected", so Judy settled the account. The dining room in the motel was comfortable, and we enjoyed a nice home cooked roast beef and vegie meal, then returned to our room to watch T.V. for a while, before falling asleep to dream about whales.

DAY 23.

We ate separately that morning, Judy had a hot breakfast in the roadhouse, while I settled for a light breakfast in our room, to use up some of my provisions. Our first stop was for fuel at Penong, and just after leaving there, we stopped to look at the many wind mills of all shapes and sizes scattered around the outskirts of town. It is known as the town of windmills, of which there are about 100 (far more than I saw in Holland years ago). Shortly after this -quess what ? -1 ran out of petrol before the next planned fuel stop, which was Ceduna, so had to call on "the friend in the fridge" . On reaching Ceduna, we both refueled, and topped up the jerry can, and I tried out my visa card. It not having worked the previous night, I was a bit concerned, but it worked O. K. there, and has done ever since, so who knows what went wrong ? I was relieved that I did not have to go through the hassles of contacting my bank to report it.

The weather was fine and the scenery rural, with vast wheat fields and silos, with small townships adjacent. We stopped at one such township named Poochera, for fuel and a hot drink. I struck up a conversation with an old local chap, who was having his breakfast in the roadhouse. He spoke of his working days at the silo, and had lived in the area all his life. On leaving, he staggered into his walking frame, which he hooked onto the back of his four wheeled battery powered scooter, and bid me a safe journey. On paying for my coffee the lady told me he was a regular customer who had his breakfast there every day and was delighted in meeting people and having a chat. She told me he had been crippled with arthritis for years since his retirement, and it occurred to me how fortunate I am, not having his complaint, and still being able to ride. I was even more pleased that the Ulysses Club donate to this debilitating disease cure.

We rode on into the day, stopping at the township of Kimba, where there is a souvenior shop, with a huge statue of a galah out front. I have seen Coffs Harbour's big bannana, Ballina's big prawn, The big cherry at Young, and now here was the big Galah .The photos of its construction were on display in the shop, and I found it very interesting. It was built purely as a tourist attraction, and I would say it is very successful. I remember that shop for another reason . As I brought the bike to rest and felt around for the side stand, the arm fell off it, and I had to call on Judy to help put it down for me, before I could get off. I managed to have it welded back on again at an engineering shop in town, but unfortunately, the guy who fixed it, did not fit it properly and to avoid it swinging out and causing an accident, I rode the rest of the trip with it secured with an occy strap.

On leaving this town, the lady at the servo warned us to watch out for hoppers and coppers, and sure enough, a highway patrol car was parked just over the crest of the hill, just out of town. Fortunately, although we were travelling at about 115 K.P.H, he did not flag us down. It had been a cool day, especially in the afternoon, but the interesting road took our minds off the weather, and before long, we arrived at Port Augusta and booked in to an on site van in a big caravan park. That night we ate in the servo opposite, after which Judy rang her nephew, Wayne, in Adelaide, and jotted down instructions to get to his place the next day. On our return to the van, we marked up our maps of the route Wayne had told us about, and went to bed, looking forward to our ride into Adelaide the following day, now that we had put the Nullarbour behind us. I had met Wayne the previous year in Broken Hill, when he had spent a few days camped with us, and I was looking forward to renewing our acquaintance.

DAY 24.                                               

The morning was overcast, but not raining, so we considered that a bonus. It was only about 300 Ks. to Adelaide, but we did not fancy handling the traffic in a strange city in the rain. As we left Port Augusta, we saw a lot of Harleys travelling north, and assumed they were joining the rally to the "top end" that we had heard about. Travelling south, the sun was peeping through the dark clouds that shrouded the Flinders Range to the east, with its peaks bordered by a fringe of blue sky. It was a sight to behold. We refuelled twice, to avoid having to do so in the heavily built up area of the city, and about 10 Ks. or so out of Adelaide, the heavens opened up on us. We sheltered for a while at a huge service station, but soon had to move our bikes, to avoid holding up customers. The rain persisted, but we had no alternative but to move on. Judy took the lead and did a marvelous job, leading us to the South Road, which skirts the city proper, and eventually led us to the southern suburbs, where Wayne lives. She even managed to find a Yamaha shop on the way, and bought new spark plugs, as spares, in case of further trouble. As luck would have it, she was tinny enough to get hold of a battery cover (the only one in stock and the right colour), to replace the one that fell off some time ago on a previous trip. The rain had stopped by now, and we were quite relieved. We stopped at the golden arches for lunch, not wanting to arrive at our host's place right on meal time. We overshot the last turn off to Wayne’s place, and became lost, but managed to find the house eventually, arriving at about 3.30 pm, to be greeted by Wayne’s partner, Sandy, and their flat mate, Scott, who was just leaving for work as we arrived. Sandy is a charming lady of Aboriginal descent, with one of the most infectious smiles I can recall seeing. Soon after, her daughter, Jemma, arrived home from high school and we made pleasant conversation after we had invaded their lounge room with all our gear. Wayne arrived home from work about 5pm, and it was nice to meet him again.

For exercise, Judy and I walked the kilometre or so to the shopping centre, for juice, fruit and an A.T.M. after which Sandy and Wayne cooked us all a lovely meal of veal schnitzel and vegies. We watched T. V. and chatted, before setting our air beds up in the warmth of the lounge room . It was a great night and good to be in the comfort of a warm home.

DAY 25.

Wayne had talked his boss into letting him have the day off his shop fitting job to show us around Adelaide, and eventually, when we were all up, showered and dressed, Wayne took us to a trendy little donut house for breakfast. It sounds funny, eating donuts for breakfast, but these were different. They were filled with egg, bacon, cream cheese and dried tomato and were delicious. Wayne had previously frequented this particular cafe while fitting out a fast food outlet nearby, and was cracking his neck to introduce us to this "Donut Delerium", as it is called.

After this huge breakfast, we walked for a while, window shopping, then bought a few items in a "cheap as chips" retail shop. That's the name Sandy gave it. The suburb was named Torrensville, and judging by the shops and the lingo of the locals, it appeared to be predominantly occupied by Greeks and Italians, and was like being on the continent.

We then went for a scenic drive around the foreshores of Saint Vincent Gulf, which provided miles of ocean views, and offered stacks of holiday accommodation, as well as fancy apartments. We ended up at a beaut pub named the Seacliffe, where we met up with Wayne’s mother and step father, and enjoyed a few drinks with them, before sharing a nice meal with them on the first floor balcony, taking in the seascape. The sun came out for a while and I was able to take a few shot of this beautiful area. We sat, ate ,drank and talked till 3pm. Judy had not seen Wayne’s Mum for years, and they had a lot of catching up to do. I had expressed a desire to visit the National Motor Museum, at Birdswood, while in Adelaide and Wayne was kind enough to take us there, after a tour around the outskirts of the C.B.D.. He pointed out Parliament House and Hyde Park where the really posh estates are. The traffic was very thick by that time, being the start of the peak hour period, and after a pleasant drive into the hills of Adelaide, we eventually arrived at Birdwood at 4.30 pm. The museum closed at 5.oopm. and the two elderly gentlemen looking after the show, on learning we had come all the way from Grafton, refused to take any money from us, as we only had half an hour to inspect the hundreds of exhibits. Naturally, I headed straight for the motorcycle pavilion, where there were some magnificent bikes on display. Most of them were in pristine condition, although fewer in numbers than at the Nabiac museum, closer to home. I was thrilled to see a 1938 Harley outfit, similar to the one my dad used to own, when I was very young, an old Indian, similar to my first bike and heaps of old British bikes that brought back a lot of memories.

The car, bus and truck collection was equally as impressive, and needless to say, half an hours inspection did not do it justice. The drive back to Adelaide was pretty, with waterfalls appearing after the heavy rain of the two previous days, as we wound our way past olive groves and vineyards in abundance. To add to my list of big monuments, low and behold we came across the Big Rocking Horse, with just enough light left in the day to capture it on film. Unfortunately, Judy did not enjoy the drive back, as she was suffering from car sickness . Wayne stopped a few times, for her to recover, on the way through the built up areas.

A light meal that night of coffee and fruit was all I could manage, having eaten well all the day . Another pleasant night was spent in their company, and I went to bed that night with a fondness for Adelaide and its surrounds.

DAY 26

We waited till 10am. before leaving Adelaide, to avoid the heavy peak hour traffic. Before Wayne left for work, he made sure we had the right directions to leave this fair city . He had gone out of his way to give us a good time while we were there. His flat mate Scott appeared on the scene before we left, and it was quite sad saying goodbye to Sandy, who had not known us, yet made us welcome in her home.

It took one and a quarter hours before we were through the suburbs and headed for Renmark. The scenery changed instantly, and as we came to a rise, there was a spectacular view of the Barossa, with its 50 or so vineyards. Judy remarked that night that she would not have been surprised to have seen a "big grape" monument.

  Our next stop for fuel and lunch was at Blanchtown, on the Murray River, then yet another fuel stop at Renmark, where we met a local Ulysses guy riding a bike like mine, who invited us home for a coffee. I thanked him, but declined the offer, since we had a lot more k's to clock up before nightfall. We saw two highway patrol cars that day, but neither of them bothered us, even though we were taking advantage of probably the best riding conditions since we left Bunbury in W. A, with nice sunshine and not a breath of wind. Not far out of Mildura, we came across a paddock literally covered with flocks of Galahs, and we could hear their piercing screeching above the exhaust noise of the bikes.

We booked a cabin at a caravan park in Mildura, that was conveniently located just across the road from a shopping centre, which we visited to buy frozen meals to heat up for our dinner. There in lies a story. There was no microwave oven in the cabin, and the automatic igniter on the gas stove was not working, so we rolled up a piece of newspaper to make a wick, and eventually managed to light the oven, not before scorching a bit of the lino, in front of the stove. We were able to disguise our accident, by placing the floor mat over the scorched area, and both agreed it would not have happened if the bloody thing had been working properly. Out of sight, out of mind, we enjoyed a nice meal and after making a few phone calls, and watching telly for a while, we turned in.

Day 27.

On the road again by 8.45 am, after some difficulty starting the Beemer. It took 5 attempts before it fired into life, and I put it down to the extra cold morning and an aging battery. Our first fuel stop was at Euston, after which the  scenery changed again, and became rather like the Nullarbour and the barren country between Cobar and Broken Hill.

Our lunch stop was at a roadhouse on the outskirts of Hay, which happened to be right opposite a crazy looking modern building, that we soon realized was the Shearers Hall of Fame. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in architect's minds. I have never had a liking for modern architecture, which is one reason why I retired early in life, but I am digressing. By now, we were in the heart of the sheep country, and having a bit of time at our disposal, why not visit this museum?. The artifacts housed in this crazy looking building took us back a step in time, as it depicted the old hand shearing method, right up to the present day method of shearing, and was well illustrated, with plenty of memorabillia and photographs. Some of the innovative machinery for sharpening the old shears fascinated me. Having spent a while in the museum, we walked over to the shearing shed in the paddock, to watch a shearing demonstration. We both found it very interesting, and although I have seen sheep shorn once before, I found the running commentary, explained by the retired shearer who performed the task, of great interest. He also gave us a crash course in wool classing, after throwing the fleece on the classing table. He was only too willing to answer any questions we put to him, and in so doing he told us the history of this very shearing shed. Apparently, it had been dismantled and transported from the Murray Downs property at Swan Hill, and rebuilt here as recently as 2002, as a tourist attraction, to help preserve some of Australia's heritage. I would highly recommend the visit to all tourists and at $15 admission ($10 for pensioners),it is very reasonably priced. I will collect my commission later.

Next stop for fuel was at Goolgowi, where I befriended a lovely grey cat, similar to my own "Little Puss" at home. It showed a great interest in my bike, and for a brief moment, I felt quite homesick. We arrived at the historic gold mining town of West Wyalong by late afternoon, and were lucky enough to secure one of the last remaining cabins for the night. I walked to a corner shop for provisions for tea, and to make a phone call (no mobile phone reception again), and together with an assortment of food I used from our own food supplies, I made a nice meal. I couldn't see much sense in taking food back home with us. Since it was the first of August the following day, which is Swiss National Day, and is celebrated with a cheese fondue, I also bought a packet of cheese, and finished off my meal with melted cheese on toast, cooked in the microwave oven. This was the closest thing I could manage to resemble a fondue.

It had been a particularly pleasant trip that day, and as I lay my head on the pillow that night I had plenty to reflect on as I dozed off, having had a good meal and just the right amount of anesthetic to drink.

DAY 28

We awoke to an overcast morning and although it was cosy in our cabin, it was bitterly cold outside. I gave Judy a pinch and a punch for the first of the month, and in return she gave me a hit and a kick for being so quick. After we packed, and managed to start both bikes O.K, we went for a five minute walk, to warm our feet up before setting off at 8.15 am. It was a very cold ride to Forbes, where we refueled at an old corner garage opposite a park. We left the bikes at the garage and took a short stroll around the park, to warm our feet up once again. The weather warmed up a bit as the sun came through the clouds, and by the time we reached Dubbo, for our next stop, it was a nice day. Since we were making good time, we decided to pay the old goal a visit. We had both passed it on previous trips, and had not had the time to stop and inspect it. Apparently it opened in 1871, although not completed, had its last hanging in 1904, and closed in 1966. It was made into a museum in 1974. We had a good look over the place and were particularly impressed with the reality of the animotronic figures representing prisoners and wardens . There was also a ghost like display on the life of "nosey" the hangman . The whole thing was a bit depressing, but never the less, quite educational. You're never too old to learn.

After finishing our tour of the gaol, we strolled across Macquarie Street, to one of our favourite healthy food outlets, for a bite to eat, after which we were soon on our way again, intending to make our overnight stop at Gunnedah. We had a brief stop a Coolah, for the Virago to fill up, then pressed on . I had ridden this section of road three times now, in as many years, and still enjoyed the scenery, consisting mostly of flat country, with a few rolling hills and the beautiful Warrumbungle Range in the distance.

We decided when we reached Gunnedah, that it was too early to stop for the night, and in plenty of light we reached Tamworth, managing not to bounce off any wildlife. I knew this fair city pretty well, having been there five times in three years, on weekend rides, and to country music festivals and was therefore able to lead us directly to the caravan park, on the river, where we booked a cabin for the night. This was our last night of the trip, and we walked a short distance to a popular take away food place and "ate in". We had a sumptuous meal, finishing off with what has become the traditional "last night treat" of sticky date pudding.

DAY 29 The last day.

Not having a very long trip home, and Tamworth being the home of country music, we hung around until the Tourist Information Centre opened, then visited their most popular display which is " Walk a Country Mile". This consists of a walk down memory lane, with displays of country music artists from way back, with video films on their lives, and memorabillia associated with the music industry, all very interestingly displayed. I had seen it the previous year, yet I enjoyed it just as much the second time, as it is a bit much to take in in one visit. Judy enjoyed it also, as she did most of the other museums we visited on this lengthy trip. The Beemer only just started, and at one stage I thought I would be needing a new battery to get me mobile. Apparently the morning was colder than I realized, although the sun had appeared, for there was a strong wind blowing. As always, it's a good ride up the Moonbies on a powerfull bike, and with two lanes, there is plenty of room to corner hard or overtake. We stopped for fuel at Armidale, then had a traffic free ride on the Waterfall Way to Ebor, where we stopped for a bite to eat. We said our goodbyes at this point, reflecting on the wonderful trip we had just undertaken. I let Judy go ahead, faster than me, knowing I would not be breaking any speed limits on the descent down to Nymboida.

I arrived home at 2.45pm. and was instantly greeted by my old cat who was very pleased to see me. After making a few phone calls I came to the worst part of any holiday and that is the unpacking.

To summarise, we were away for almost a month, of which there were only three days that we weren't riding. We had travelled 11,100 kilometres in that time and although at times the weather was lousy, the good times more than made up for it. We had seen a lot of new territory and met a lot of nice folk on the way. I had always wanted to travel to the west and now I have fulfilled an ambition, thanks to a phone call Judy had made to me four months earlier. Having taken a lot of photos and gathered heaps of maps and brochures on the way, I know I will be re-living this ride over and over again.

THE END