09-01-2011, 06:20 AM
Joined: Aug 2008
Location: Albany Western Australia
I've had dinner so back to the keyboard.
The welcoming rays of the next morning’s sunrise unfortunately revealed a flat rear tyre on the TT350. To say that I was annoyed at my incompetence in pinching the tube when putting it in the previous evening would be an understatement. Unleashing a few swear words makes a bloke feel better for sure and in this case they proved effective. After repairing the tube the long and winding road beckoned us once more to head east.
The long and winding road.
A good bit of riding saw us once again on the coast and reaching Red Rocks Point, but not before a Kamikaze roo launched itself into Fred’s Husky. It left a bit of blood as a calling card but both marsupial and Husky pilot escaped relatively unscathed. I questioned Fred as to wether he had “exploded the exhaust box at him” (****). The coastal track from the point to the border was a beauty winding in amongst dunes then across Samphire clay flats and so on. I was enjoying the ride until stopping and just about falling over when putting my feet down. The surface was slippery! Ignorance is bliss as they say. So it was from then on, a case of again “go soothingly on the grease mud, for there lurks the skid demon”.
Navigation equipment can't get you around a roo.
The sun had set by the time we reached the Western Australia/ South Australia border at Border Village, back on the Eyre Highway. We had made it to the half way point with very little bitumen being traversed and only a few wayward marsupials to contend with. At the border there were many other motorcyclists who had ridden to the same venue from the western or eastern parts of the continent. These silly buggers then intended to turn around and head back in the direction from hence they had come. We partook of beers with them and later, across the road around a campfire, a friendly fellow by the name of Harry forced us to commit cerebral damage by offering to fill our stubbies with some port flavored nectar that issued forth from a five liter plastic Jerrycan!
Remnants from a pre-multicultural Australia struggle with 21st century technology.
‘Twas a late start the next day, but no matter, we were now heading back to the west and the sun was also going in the same direction. In keeping with our theme of avoiding paved surfaces, or indeed the “raising of the hand by a Policeman” (*****), we turned north at Eucla and followed an old coach road to Madura. Its notable features were the large holes near the track and tall grass in places making it almost invisible. We camped in the vicinity of Madura before once again joining the road trains and caravans travelling along the Eyre Highway.
Not a good campsite.
Mc found some wire.
"Little Madura Pass"
Here we go again.
The repaired tube on the TT350 eventually failed enroute to Balladonia so it was time for some more lever work on the road side. Riding motorcycles in the bush is a good way to develop hands that make it look like you’re a “working man”! Arriving at Balladonia it was almost time to camp, but after some discussion we decided to head south on a bit more dirt. This was an arse puckering traverse as the old skid demon was once again on the lurk. We pulled up at dusk at an old stone station building. It had been tidied up a bit by the owners and visitors welcome to stay. After a day of cool and sometimes wet riding it was a pleasure to crank up the open fireplace and enjoy the luxury of the great indoors.
Nice little still life arrangements.
Another old station building on the way back. Plastic Jerrycan panniers worked well.
The last bit of dirt.
This is probably the last time I'll use these panniers. They are not tough enough to handle the type of country I often ride through.
The final day was uneventful as we continued on our way home to our respective abodes via the south coast town of Esperance. All in all an excellent bit of riding, jockeys and sickles all intact, with only a few flesh wounds and minor bruising as evidence to show our loved ones. In effect we were able to “place our jolly dream on the seat of our motorcycles and have a good ride”.
Honda Safety Rules
Taken from a 1962, Honda Motor Cycle Owner's Manual. Translated by Honda
for the "American Motorcycle Rider"
"If you read this manual fully you will be able to place your jolly dream on the seat of your motorcycle and have a good ride”.
1. At the rise of the hand by Policeman, stop rapidly. Do not pass him by or otherwise disrespect him.
2. When a passenger of the foot, hooves in sight, tootel the horn trumpet
melodiously at first. If he still obstacles your passage, tootel him with
vigor and express by word of mouth, warning Hi, Hi.
3. Beware of the wandering horse that he shall not take fright as you pass
him. Do not explode the exhaust box at him. Go soothingly by.
4. Give big space to the festive dog that makes sport in roadway. Avoid
entanglement of dog with wheel spokes.
5. Go soothingly on the grease mud, as there lurks the skid demon! Press
the brake foot as you roll around the corners, and save the collapse and