John Baxter

Merry Christmas!

I know it's a bit late, but I thought I'd let you know I finally got around to buying your Christmas presents!

I was thinking I would donate gift moneys to the Salvos (they do lots of Christmas stuff), but was immensely put off by their values and mission statement. I know they do lots of good stuff, but I couldn't stomach the thought of donating to an organisation whose official primary purpose is evangelising. I do think that evangelism is a great thing for people to go out and do, but not with my money thank you very much.

Mission Australia, on the other hand, is coming from the same sort of religious background (hence being very appropriate for Christmas time), but their official purpose is focussed on looking after people, rather than looking after God. In practice there might not be much difference, and the distinction is only subtle, but it is significant. I don't believe in God, don't forget. Donating to the Salvos would feel like giving money to the Easter Bunny.

The Mission Australia website was also very convincing. They clearly uphold the same kind of respect for accountability and responsible use of resources that I do. The decision, thus, was easy. If you're wondering what you actually got for Christmas, I'll be happy to forward you their annual and financial reports and you can see it for yourself. : )

Merry Christmas!
And a Happy New Year for someone that needs it.

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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

I just wrote the last post because I sat down to write an update of the trip and didn't really feel inspired to write about anything.

Not to say I haven't had any good times. Ningaloo/North West Cape/Exmouth was great, some really good snorkelling, some good time up the range. The range of fish there is astounding, far, far in excess of the day I spend on the Great Barrier Reef, though the coral formations of the latter were pretty good. The coral close to the coast in Ningaloo was largely basic (all in a narrow shallow water lagoon). But fish! Wherever you went!

On from there I'm in Carnarvon for the weekend. Not much to say about it really. It's an average sort of place, little town, a little bit feral but nice enough. Was thinking of looking for work and staying a while (there's a range of semi-tropical agriculture along the Gascoyne), but there isn't much work for the minute, and... well Carnarvon? One weekend's enough.


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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

Perils of slow internet.... I'll fix up some of that formatting soon.

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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

19/10/2009

ODO 96,000!

I'm back on the road again (no longer on The road, though I'll come to that). And the world is as it should be. I have a day to be in Broome (which I'm just outside), and I've done most of my chores. Not the ones that involve water (because I only have enough for me), but enough to derive some sense of satisfaction.

Going back, way back, to my last entry, I was in good old Katherine. I hung around Kath about two hours too long - which was perfect for setting the mood. The road out was warm, and with some good progress made a stop at Top Springs was definitely in order. On the map this place is a rather large dot. When you arrive you find a tiny roadhouse with $2/L unleaded. That says a lot about this stretch of land. It's not that there's nothing here (you don't have servos for nothing), but the roads all lead to cattle stations or indigenous communities, so it isn't exactly urban. Once you get off the main drag, that's what the NT is all about - that and the odd mine.

I won't go into too much detail, but I was heading out back to visit Dan and Alex (uni bike club) doing toadbusting research on a cattle station. The couple of days was a treat - despite some inexplicable antipathy for actually doing stuff (sorry Dan). On the Cox trip I was spoilt for volume of food, but here I was just plain spoilt. Thank whoever for their generosity. And it was great to get out and learn a bit about the bovine blood that feeds the NT. So the visit was more than just toads!

It would have been sad to leave had the road out not been so beautiful. So much so I was actually inspired, despite excrutiating heat, to take a few photos [http://www.flickr.com/photos/jsbaxter/4036606106/]. I headed North from Top Springs, past the Victoria River Downs station (the only life on the road for a couple hundred kms), where I duly stopped to top up the liquid of health (water!) and to ask about the roads. The track in passed three choppers outside a shed - with a fourth inside. Quite a few for one station - they're a maintenance depot, as it turned out. A couple of the guys came out as I arrived to say hello and check my insanity ("Well... there's probably been a couple of other roadbikes in my time here" - six years!), and work out what the bike was. Despite only dropping in for a two minute pit stop, I could not have been made more welcome. I was flattered at being offered coke and beer, while the slice I didn't say no to. Waiting in the shade for the sweat to cool off Hillke approached to ask if I wanted to accompany Tass - moving one of the choppers around the back! I didn't say no to that either! And didn't complain when 'moving it around the back' meant taking a five minute flyover of the main station! They're funky little things, mustering choppers. Just sitting in it and watching the startup procedure, the range of guages and instruments - thoroughly enthralling. So I was back on the road with a special little memory of Victoria River Downs - thanks to Hillke, Tass, Andrew and the Other Guy (75% is a pass), it was a stop I won't forget.

The approach to Jasper Gorge saw an increasingly beautiful backdrop to the quite solid dirt road, and I was on the lookout for a view to stop and record when I noticed an unscheduled campground by a billabong. Only when I pulled in and got off did I realise how rooted I'd gotten - less than 300km covered, and by lunchtime I needed a shower, bath, swim, steak, ice cream and 2.25L bottle of Gatorade. In reverse order. So out came the billy for a liquid lunch - and by that stage the place had obviously become a winner for that night's camp. I was in no state to continue on without some rest.

The next day proved no less arduous, but I paced myself to handle it better. I hadn't planned it, but since I'd made such an early start I figured I'd turn right towards Victoria River (roadhouse and river valley). The decision paid off with some of the most beautiful surroundings of the trip [http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2546/4035870243_997d90d539_m.jpg]. It almost seemed a cheat - the only thing that would have made it better would have been doing it on a lonely dusty track, rather than a trafficed tarred highway. I was in Timber Creek in time for a lazy lunch - plan being to sit out the heat. The pub turned out uninviting, but rising cloud cover signalled an early departure for a quick trip into the (Western section) Gregory NP. Now I love [savannah woodland [http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2594/4035869405_9687fb78fd_m.jpg], and the top end has so much of it, but it had never really hit the right note until travelling through it on a twisty little park track. The quality was pretty good - I didn't really get the '4WD Recommended' until shortly after one particular 'Dip' sign, reinforced later by a 'River Crossing' which talked me into turning back early - that and the increasingly ominous sky. Two days prior at the station (Camfield, not VRD), all the talk was of rains - which never looked like coming, and didn't while I was there. These clouds though, they definitely looked like coming. They had been gathering from quite early on, and by this stage in the afternoon they were well and truly present. Thing was, though, after really struggling in the sun for two days - more than I had at any time previously on the trip - I was willing to look past the inconvenience, and forward to the prospect of cool, wet relief cascading from above. The don't call this season the build up for nothing.

In the end, rain fell - but not on me. The clouds had proven as reluctant as those from earlier in the week, though through sheer weight they did appear to inundate the highlands a few kms to the south of camp. I'd set up camp just in time to catch what did come, but the few drops were little more than symbolic - the night was as stuffy as ever, and as usual I woke with myself the only soggy object.

The next morning was the last little trot into Kununurra. After an hour or two riding through escarpment-bordered valleys the WA border approached with a change of scenery as much as any man-made formality. By the time the border was reached the land had taken on a dryness so much more stark than anything else in the NT - only the country around the Gulf of Carpentaria had the same feeling. The whole of the NT was dry - but the plants seem resigned to it, almost happy with a restful parching. Out here though it feels like the country is struggling with it - even as the road got nearer and nearer the sea.

That is not to imply there was any less beauty in it - the rocky hills on the road to Lake Argyle would have overshadowed any lesser lake. But Argyle! I suggest you look it up on a map - the quantitative comparison to bodies like Sydney Harbour does it no justice. Check out [some of the photos I took [http://www.flickr.com/photos/jsbaxter/4036631462/]. You see before you a huge lake - what's amazing is that the water does not stop with the valley, but extends through headlands to left and right as far as the eye can see. The section the dam and lookouts overlook is about a quarter of a tiny section near the top - perhaps itself ten percent of the total surface area. It is classed, apparently, as an inland sea, and the moniker is not unjustified - if you didn't know better you might assume it extends out into the Indian Ocean. Perhaps the most startling fact is that this whole area was brought about by a relatively small dam on one modest river about fifty years ago. A river, no less, which would have been more or less dry at this time of the year (hence the need for a dam). Wow.

Kununurra proved to be quite a nice little town. One of the county's newest (built to service the dam construction, and then the farmland that it irrigated), it has many different faces for such a little place. It has a bit of the sunshine/holiday of the Gold Coast, the getaway/resort of Noosa, the community of Tennant Creek, the agricultural variety of Atherton, the laid-back feel of the NT and the culinary feel of Darwin (well, a tiny bit). And it's built right up against a national park which rivals Kakadu for sheer, rocky gorgeousness. If you wanted to drift away from it all you shouldn't have much trouble getting work in tourism through the dry ('winter'), or agricultural stuff at many other times of the year. It's one of only two places off the East Coast which I'd describe as 'liveable' - Alice being the other. The only downside is that with 5/6 thousand people it is, despite its many faces, far to small. No aspect is developed enough to really engage. But that said, if you like small - or just want to get away from everything else - it'd be worth a try.

The only place I could think of better to spend a weekend catching the Phillip Island GP is the Island itself - a couple thousand kms less of a journey and that's where I would have been. Stoner having duly won it - a blow against his critics as much as against his competitors - it was time to head off - down the might Gibb.

Ask anybody that knows it and they'll respond with an understanding nod and a smile - the Gibb River road has an aura about its name. Part of that aura is the treachery and the challenge - the boss at Kununurra bike shop (cheers to Neville for letting me use the drill outside working hours!) declared in no uncertain terms "yes, you'll be breaking levers on that thing". A random ex-biker in Tennant Creek is still watching the news for the crazy biker from Sydney lost in the Kimberly. I was told even before I left that there is no way I should do a round trip on an SV, "because you will have to explain when people ask, why you didn't do roads like the Gibb."

For other people (mainly in 4WDs who've just done the journey), the first thing they tell you is about how amazing the trip is, how it's the most beautiful country in Australia. How it's hot, it's hard - but it's worth it. How you won't forget it - presumably, like they won't. And these are the people that tell you it's not as bad as others might say. "A roadbike!?" they might exclaim - but "brave" is their assessment, not "suicidal".

It doesn't take long to realise the assessments of 4WDers need to be taken with due respect to the their looking glass (a big metal cage with four drive wheels which won't fall over if you hit a big rock at 30kph). But they had one thing right - the road ain't that bad. 80% of it is rough, but easy going. 19.99% of it is rough as guts, but not dangerous. The other 0.001% is the Pentecost.

There are two crossings of this river. One into El Questro Gorge (resort, cattle station, and more importantly - source of fuel), and one on the road proper. I got into El Questro without drama. The crossing is long, wet (25cm) and rocky, but after two laps getting the boots nice and soggy I'd developed a plan which worked better than expected. On the way out... lets just say making it once doesn't mean it will be easy with 15kg more fuel (including a 6kg jerry perilously strapped), 5kg more bag - while vainly to keep your boots dry. First thing in the morning. No one factor would have been terminal, but as [they say;http://survivalskills.wordpress.com/], accidents are all to often result of a set of seemingly innocent factors.

In the end the only real casualty was my bag of rice (although there's a fair chance it wasn't just the heat which cooked my mobile battery a couple of days later), and I actually picked myself up out of the water with more cheer than I'd gone in. It was annoying, but it's still funny when a bike ends up in the river, no matter whose it is. (Especially when the exhaust fills with water!) I guess I was pretty lucky, I had a lot of things which shouldn't have gotten off so lightly.

As it turns out, the main crossing of the Pentecost wasn't anywhere near as bad as it could have been. The rocks are worse, and it is probably a good 100m wide, but there was actually no necessary water crossing - everything had either evaporated by this point, or flowed underneath the rubble. The footing was boulderous by 4WD standards, but as solid as it was intimidating - I'd dropped it earlier because smaller loose rocks shifted while I was trying to steer around a big one. A bit of calm planning and cowboy throttle control (less is not more, more is more!)

If I wasn't so happy about having dominated the worst the Gibb had to throw at me I'd have stopped to take a photo - but as it was I thought that was just the beginning. In a sense, it is - the Pentecost marks the 'real' beginning to the Gibb, like a gateway that demands for you to prove you're serious before you pass. But in another way, the Pentecost is the only real hurdle to the Gibb. Any half-abled road bike with some sort of tyre (no canvass please!) would be able to do the rest, at some level of comfort and speed. It really isn't a 4WD track like some will have you believe (and like I was looking forward to, to be honest...) - it's two and a half lanes of flat, dusty, corrugated road. If they paved all the crossings you could do it in a hatchback or on a scooler. You might have half your bolts rattled out (I actually lost none!), but as long as you were expecting it you'd be fine.

But you want to hear about the Gibb River Road!? Well it is charming, and it is beautiful. As good as the road is, though, it is neither a back country track, nor a walk in the park. You need to watch it all the time - watch for rocks, sand, gravel, livestock... And it didn't have the momentous sense of adventure like a real track does - like the road should.

Once you get over the road not being the highlight of your time on the Earth you realise how much there is to appreciate. We all know I love savannah woodland, and it has it in spades. The far Eastern End (before the Pentecost) is absolutely stunning, as it cuts through the King Leopold Ranges at one tip of their crescent. Most of the middle is plains (/valley - but a big one!), and really pleasant country if not rivetting. When you get back into the King Leopold Ranges once again (and their foothills) the real charm of the Kimberly comes out. Mt Barnett River is nice, Bell Gorge is lovely, but Manning Gorge is heart rendering. This is exactly what the Gibb - nay, the whole Top End - is about, at least as far as the nature thing goes. It's so far from anything it's a miracle to be able to get there, and it has the perfect mix of swimming-spotted campground, with walk to even more astonishing higher pools - palm fringed, rocky or sandy as you choose, shady or sunny, with goannas, cormorants, fish, even a selection of warm or cool water! If I had known I'd have a day to spare I'd have spent it up there, walked it a couple of times, lounged by the various pools... As it so happens, it's the one I didn't get any photos of : ) I spent all my time there enjoying it so much, I'll just have to let you go and do the same. Go on! It'll be worth it.


In the end, that spare day I ended up with (today!), was because of an unexpected closure - I was pushing on to get through an elongated route down to Fiztroy Crossing when I hit a 'road closed' sign. Bushfires - just my luck. And that more-or-less meant the end to my Gibb River adventure. (All the more sad because it was just hitting the heat of the day and I was already ragged - very appreciative to come across a wonderful specimen of grotesquely beautiful Australian flora - giant, shady boab!)

I didn't complain when I'd filled up in Derby and discovered my economy calculations were spot on - I'd have made my original plan, I think, but if I'd gone another 15km down that road before hitting the closure I wouldn't have made the nearest servo. So my luck hadn't deserted me, just transmuted itself into a convenient ending.

I spent a pleasant enough five minutes in Derby - discovering a little something about WA which I sort of always knew... but that will wait for another time.

So today popped out of nowhere (I'm in Broome tomorrow and for the weekend, as MotoGP heads to Malaysia) - free of charge - and I suddenly have too much time to put off updating the blog. (I started writing entries four or five times, but I was always too tired to get beyond the first paragraph.) That ain't so bad. It's been a long week and a half. You've missed a lot. Me, I'm happy enough to sit down and relax.

Speaking of which.


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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

I look back and think off all the things that I've done and it seems I have a lot to talk about - but at the same time I don't feel that I have anything to say. So, generic news it is!

I'm in Katherine at the moment - my rear tyre is finally being changed, way-way overdue. I was in Kath around two weeks ago, from which I headed north to Darwin. Darwin didn't offer that much charm, not that I could pick up... the hostels were exxy, and there isn't much to do that doesn't involve spending money. Frankly, Darwin feels like Sydney, but slow and tiny. Too tiny to offer any of Sydney's advantages. Oh, and hot, of course, don't forget the build-up weather!

I wandered down through Kakadu, quite a nice area - and once again quiet. I think everyone is waiting for the rain to hit! Saw some birds, and some interesting rock formations at Ubirr. The free park-ranger talks at various sites were pretty good, and offered a good extra level of experience to the sites, and a window into the Aboriginal history of the area. Aboriginal/Nat Parks collaboration in the NT works really well.

I had picked up a commitment to return to Darwin for the next Monday to do that volunteer work - I ended up shelving plans to hang around Daly river and returned to Darwin for the weekend, primarily to catch the MotoGP. My justification for the expense of returning to town was the opportunity to earn a few dollars wagering on the GP, and that I duly did (after a disasterous qualifying result, and race nerve-wracking if not otherwise exciting).

The week of volunteer work was good, though it didn't necessarily tick the boxes I had hoped. It was mid-way between a good week's work and an eco-tour, but without offering the full benefits of either. It was a good week's relaxing, and the good company of the rest of the crew was a bonus, it was also really good to get the work done and have something to stand back and look at. But it was much too relaxed to offer the busy occupation of a working week, nor the constant activity of a tour. A good holiday week (in luxury I'm not used to), except - I'm on a five month holiday as it is, and normally doing nothing is free!

So arriving at the weekend I don't need to kick back and relax - quite the opposite. I'm weighing up the various 'cultural' tours as they pop up, and thinking about where down the road I might be able to line up some work (I'll give Broome a shot). Once in Broome I can scale back the pace of travel another step - while Broome isn't out of range of the wet, as long as I have tarred road ahead of me I'm not that scared of the prospect.

Next time I'm hit with something worth writing about I promise I will.

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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

Is that how far I am behind on uploading my photos, really? Have I really not uploaded anything since Brisbane!?

I am making amends now - starting at the end, instead of the beginning (as all blogs should - when they're behind at least).

My 'photostream' on Flickr can be found here

I have been considering writing info and comments on the photos themselves rather than attempting to work them into blog entries (which obviously hasn't been happening) - I think I will give that a try.

Don't ask how convenient it will be for the viewer, I don't have that much experience with Flickr. But I encourage you to try it out! There's some photos of wonderful places in there.

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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

Retrospective: a story to fill the gap between Cairns and Alice.


Leaving Cairns was a busy few days: reef cruise one day, mountain climb the next, heading west (and some caving) the day after that. Pretty hectic and I was buggered - SO much did I enjoy hitting the open road. I don't need rest - riding is my tonic.

The road to Chillagoe - with its semi-above-ground limestone caves - pushed no buttons, for a number of reasons (like traffic and dust). The road out of it pushed buttons alright, but not the right ones! The stretch was one of those country dirt roads that just flows over the undulations of the landscape, no matter what they may be. All very well, except in tropical country relatively flat ground is intersperced by subtle floodways and dry rivers - subtle, that is, until you run into one. It looks as though the road slopes into a gentle dip like the four or five you have just passed through - it is not until you are on the cusp of it that you realise the centre of the dip drops out, and it takes another moment (a panic-riddled moment) to work out what greets you at the bottom of it. Many of these contain craters left by the huge forces of road trains blasting through them - on two occasions I was caught out and rode straight through battlefields no sane road rider would wish to attempt. The second was the more dramatic - I hit a bump on the way down (within that panic-riddled moment), hard on the brakes, violent enough to blur my vision which meant I only had long enough to confirm that the dip was dry - but seated with a set of deep ridges. Throttle on at the last minute, and as both ends bottomed out with a huge clunk the bike skittled over and washed out almost off the edge of the (staight) roadway on the other side. That, however, was nowhere near as intimidating as the one before: a gentle hill descended at the last minute into a murky puddle. And not a concrete bottomed puddle, but a sand-bottomed bike swallowing one! Hard on both brakes - handlebars flapping, rear end dragging through the deep, moist sand that lined the last ten metres before an expected over-the-handlebars wet-and-wild flying trip. By some miracle the tyres pulled through, and the sand proved grippy enough for me to pull up with a good metre or two to spare.


That deep channel towards the right is my hitting the soft stuff.

It might sound like I was going too fast - but at 70km an hour, on 160km of dead straight - largely well-surfaced - dirt, it felt like I was crawling. The dips just drop away so suddenly that no margin of safety will cover you completely. After the third adventure I made a policy of virtually stopping at the crest of any dip that I couldn't absolutely confirm the extent of. It felt ridiculous, but I got through from there without drama.


So pleased to see tar...

From there! Well the road got better before it got worse - and that it got. Less surprises, true, but rough as guts. My destination ended up Bourketown - you know, famous for the Morning Glory clouds? Well, the clouds never came, and I got over Bourketown very, very quickly indeed for a range of reasons... More testing dirt under the belt and I was back onto the highway which would take me Westward through Cloncurry and Isa.

Cloncurry on a Sunday proved little more lively than Bourketown, but Isa on the Monday was a pleasant change - friendly for a mining town, and a good opportunity to get stuff done.

I got talked out of taking the back road to Alice (and for the better - I spoke to a guy who rode through there on his dirtbike who confessed to binning it a handful of times - god knows how well I'd have faired), so onward it was along the tar - hardly complaining for that, with the beauty of the country around Isa.

Soon enough I was in the NT and onto a new leaf in a new land.

Tennant Creek proved a nice little stop - it's only a small town, sure, with a sad former significance as a mining town (every town besides Isa seems to have had the same stories of grandeur and excitement long passed), but with a positive outlook and a great community spirit.

The road from there to Alice I've already written about in reverse (it's great!), and Alice - well you've gotten Alice - so I suppose I've filled that hole. (Though I confess to being overly brief.)

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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

ODO 84650

Just recovering today after last night, lazing about in sunny, tropical FNQ. When in Cairns!

Of course, you don't do as the locals do in Cairns, you do as the residents do - none of whom are locals. Even the people that live here moved here from Sydney or Melbourne.

That's not to say it's a small destination like many other tourist towns - it even has city traffic, infuriating strings of roundabouts and out-of-sync traffic lights. I'm staying here on the condition that I only need to ride in once, and out once, and even that is too many. I think perhaps I'm getting used to country travelling.

Cairns is nice enough once you are parked (unless you're in a car and have to pay for it!), though it's weird there's no no beach, just an artificial 'lagoon' (like Brisbane has... nature's water courses aren't good enough for the Sunshine State it seems).

Hoping to find a few 'locals' to hang out with tonight, maybe have a quieter one, find some music... Putting off booking a reef cruise for while I'm up here. I have to, don't I? And i'm looking forward to it. I just don't want to pay for it.


I've since ridden most of the roads in the area - and bugger me there's some beauties.


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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

ODO >80000

Well, finally I am pushing out into the unknown world - the world North of Maroochydore. Which was, of course, my previous most Northerly experience.

I got out of Brisbane relatively unscathed, although it seemed like my time evaporated from in front of my eyes.

And when I say 'relatively', come to think of it I don't mean entirely.

On the Thursday, my final day in Brisbane, I decided - as many good bikers do - that the best way to enjoy a city is to ride outside it. So I got up bright and early (surprised that the sun had beat me to it by some margin), and headed West. Around Mt Coot-tha, and along the back roads towards Ipswich, I figured I may as well drop in on good old [Mick at Goodna]. We had a good yarn about - tyres, as one might expect - and I came away yet more impressed with Mick's expansive knowledge (and enthusiasm for waffling on with it), and happy that I've put faces and smiles to Mick and Rowena's names. Next time you're up for some rubber do yourself a favour - do what I do - and call Mick.

Anyway, not much further on from there, trying to find the track that gets to the edge of some reservoir I found myself looking at a service track and thinking "... perhaps, not a good idea - but the worst that could happen is that I can't get up it, and I just have to turn around and come back". Fair enough, isn't it? I should know well enough by now that that's a load of shit. Getting up is the easy part. Getting down is the hard part. As for turning around? You don't want to go there.

So the worst that could happen is that you get halfway up before discovering that it's too difficult - and you can't get up any further. And when your rear starts spinning and you put on the front brake, that only means you're sliding backwards with two useless wheels - until of course you stall it trying to use the rear without straight spinning it. And then you drop it.

Bugger.

And then you pick it back up again, and think "bugger, getting down is going to be hard." And then you realise that that is the least of your problems, because it's impossible to turn around.

Bugger.

So you stick it somewhere relatively stable and think it over, and conclude, perhaps absurdly: the only way down is to go backwards, using the throttle (without stalling it, or spinning it up too much). Absurd, but true!

Bugger.

I had the unexpected problem initially, that it wasn't possible to even get the bike to go backwards. To get the rear down the hill I'd hold the front brake and spin it up - the rear would slide down hill, but the front, in a slippery rut of its own, would follow suit as if in sympathy. Three or four metres were in fact traversed sideways, an experience definitely new to me. In the end I managed to find enough grip to get the bike rearranged to actually back down. While the throttle work was a bit strange at first, once used to it it didn't actually prove that dangerous heading backwards - not that the irregular, unplanned spinning and sliding didn't bring out any sweat that the sun and the excertion didn't.

I pulled into one of those 'side alley' runoff things you find bulldozed off steep dirt tracks, and used that to get the bike pointed in the right direction - after a good few minutes for each of us to cool down. From there, the gradient was much milder, and the final section was easier - though no less relieving for it.

Pulling up at the road to double check everything revealed the only damage to be a curved shifting rod (hand straightenable), and that in fact none of the fairings, nor the mirror, appear to have hit the deck at all So Good Times, eh?


A lot has happened since Brisbane though, and especially recently it's been really good - I'll put up a few words about that soon. (And there are heaps of photos too.)


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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com

I have news!

Firstly, I will be leaving Sydney next Thursday - it has gotten to the point where I may as well hang around in Sydney till my sister gets back from overseas.

I have also been offered a job with the Victorian Auditor General's Office (VAGO), as a Performance Audit officer/analyst. Their GRAD Scheme starts in February next year, in Melbourne of course. I haven't said yes, but I will, so as long as my second reference doesn't stab me in the back I will have a job to start in the new year. Huzzah for that!

So this trip, really is a departure - my return home won't be to the home I am departing. And it really is a holiday! Not just an extension of an uncertain future.


Curl Curl - there are upsides to the home I am departing, like the location I am writing this entry from...








The blog, I might add, I am thinking will change a little bit (but who knows exactly what the future will hold). I will present here many more stories of the motorcycling aspect of the journey - an aspect which previously had been largely removed from other activities, but on the road with just the bike will be integral, rather than additional. So, you'll be missing out on much less by not following the motoblog, and have a much more exciting and complete picture here.

I love being the bearer of good news!

Over and out.


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@JohnSBaxter
2009-traveldiary.blogspot.com
2009-motorcyclist.blogspot.com
www.jsbaxter.com.au