Arse About Face

Merry xmas to me...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 09:05:00 +0000

As is traditional, instead of waiting for someone else to buy me an entirely inexplicably festive pair of socks, I got myself something much, much better for xmas. It's also entirely non-sock based:


Gosling One. She's back, and her goose has not been cooked for xmas

After a good few years of being stashed away in a friend's shed gathering dust and spiders, Gosling One has finally been released into the warm, welcoming air of Western Australia. I like to think she was happy to see me, despite my abandoning her here to return to the UK on the completion of my original, round Oz epic. She might be plotting her revenge, but it'll have to wait until she's officially back on the road.

The only obstacle between more motorcycle shenanigans remains getting her a new "rego" from the W.A highways people. What could possibly go wrong, it's the festive season after all. With the battery charged and a bit of fresh fuel in the tank, Gosling One did not even remotely give a damn about her period of inactivity; firing up and thumping away without so much as a "where the bloody hell have you been?"

Next week for the "pit" inspection, so until then, goodwill to Goslings and all that.

Happy festive season y'all!

City lights, city bikes..

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 11:21:00 +0000

This will be the penultimate entry with regard to this Sydney to Melbourne jaunt, as we've arrived in Melbourne and delivered the bikes as promised. Not a great deal to report other than cleaning up Broomhilda wasn't as much fun as I had thought it would be, there's a lot of places on a bike that size that dirt can hide.

We motored in to Melbourne from our overnight spot in Anglesea early this morning, held up briefly by a log jam of traffic crossing the bridge into the centre of the city. Doesn't seem to matter how bloody big the motorbike you're riding is, car drivers (for the most part) just choose not to see you. Mark had decided to opt for the factory fitted BMW satellite navigation system on his bike, so getting lost in the urban tangle was luckily only a minor possibility.

That's official BMW tape that is

We made it to our R.V point with little more than a few clenched fists to show for the ride through the thronging streets, so I thought it would be nice to treat Broomhilda to a little shopping:

She's a 1200 double C

Ludicrously early start tomorrow morning, so I'm off to bed. I'll post up some more images when I get back to W.A and have a chance to sift through the memory card at leisure, there might even be some interesting ones in there somewhere.

Stay tuned!

Wales...no wait, Victoria in Australia...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 11:15:00 +0000

As it turns out, and here's a tip for all you would be campers out there, a yellow tent and neglecting to zip up said domicile whilst camping on the Victorian coast; means the fly-sheet, becomes exactly that.

After clearing out those flies I could from the tent, and murdering with extreme prejudice those that failed to evacuate my bedroom within the allotted time, I finally managed to get some sleep. Which is exactly what was needed after the 560km from the previous day.

Today was a relatively short hop from the coastal town of Port Campbell at the western end of the Great Ocean Road, to Anglesea in Wales, erm I mean at the eastern end of the Great Ocean Road. Short in terms of distance, but long in terms of time thanks to the ludicrous number of natural attractions along the way. The list of things to see could fill a book, and indeed a few have been written on driving the G.O.R, but I reckon it's best to just get out there and have a look yourself. Or if you can't do that, just read this blog instead!

Consumate professionals these Bike Round Oz chaps

I'd actually ridden the G.O.R (we're on acronymic terms already) before, going in the opposite direction whilst on my round trip (the whole of Oz) expedition, but it was a nice experience to ride it with other people. Also this time it wasn't day two of being on a bike that I'd never ridden before, so I could take time to enjoy the scenery and the ride, rather than worry about bending the handlebars with my vice-like grip of terror.

Pretty dull this coast, nothing to see here move along...

The route threads its way along a majestic, convoluted, intricate and often beautiful section of the Victorian coastline and is popular with motorcyclists, drivers in general, tourists of all shapes, sizes and nationalities and Australians alike. Some stretches of the route cling tenaciously to rock walls, with nought but a metal barrier on the other side between you and the pristine waters of the Southern Ocean. It would have been terrifying if I'd not been having so much fun.

12 Apostles, no 7, no hang on. Bugger it, Australians can't count.

After having had four days of getting used to the BMW GS I was amply prepared to enjoy what motorcycling delights the route offered up, and there were plenty.

Let's just put it this way lest I resort to ever more motorbike clichés, if you ride a motorcycle and you're in Victoria, you will visit the Great Ocean Road. It's just one of those things that is the 'done' thing.

We broke for coffee in a little roadhouse along the way and well, let's just say that when you walk into a place and you're outnumbered by mullet haircuts ten to three, you take your coffee and get the hell out of dodge. We didn't linger long that's for sure, the coffee was actually pretty good mind you. Must have be generations of handed down experience, cousin to cousin to cousin...

No this isn't the one I mentioned above. What am I, crazy?

Overcast but not vindictive skies graced most of the route, only giving way to a brief but powerful thunderstorm as we reached Apollo Bay. Luckily for me, I'd voted myself as cameraman / director for the afternoon and told the Bike Round Oz fellows to bugger off back round a section of the G.O.R so I could get some video and photos. That was the point when the heavens decided to open, and I might have felt a brief pang of guilt as I watched the two BMW bikes motor off into the falling rain, droplets highlighted as slashes of yellow in their headlights. Not much mind you, just a little; plus I got over it very quickly.

Rain. It does happen in Australia from time to time, really.

The rest of the G.O.R was over in record time, too quickly in fact as it would have been quite easy to spend a whole day gawping at the scenery and sweeping round the bends, but alas we had places to be.

Some more rain, but I liked the picture so I put it in.

That place to be was Anglesea, which is where we are now. Tomorrow is essentially the end of the road trip, riding in to Melbourne to deliver the bikes to where they're needed. Right now we're debating the best method for cleaning off the accumulated road grime. I'm all for riding straight through a car wash suited and booted, but I would imagine that unless mother nature lends a hand tonight, tomorrow morning will be spent scrubbing down Broomhilda and her two yellow sisters.

Budgie smugglers and a foamy sponge on standby!

560km from the previous post..

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 10:55:00 +0000

So after being awoken at some ungodly hour by the lyrical styling of the Kookaburra Dawn Chorus (available on CD or Itunes I should think), we fortified ourselves for the epic 560km ride to Port Campbell with cold pizza leftover from the night before. A hearty breakfast of champions to be sure.

Camping at bright. Pine fresh scented air comes as standard.

It may seem strange, but there isn't a great deal to report on from such a long day in the saddle other than the state of my posterior, which is probably best left between myself and my personal physician. (I'm sure she'll be thrilled) This wasn't all a jolly old jape you see, the bikes we're riding actually have to be in Melbourne at a specific time, as a Bike Round Oz group of riders is taking them (and a number of others) over to Tasmania. So today was the day we had to get some serious distance ridden.

The route we took varied from that normally taken by tour groups, this time including some delightful three lane motorway and high speed dual carriageways into the bargain, a must for every avid motorcycle fan. It wasn't all as bad as that to be honest, and we were on a mission after all.

3km left in the tank. That'll get you pretty much anywhere in Australia, possibly not back though.

The weather smiled on us for the great majority of the day, temperatures having crept up into the mid thirties (Celsius), and the occasional decrease as we rode along tree lined avenues proved to be a welcome relief. Rolling golden hills and more of the gracefully meandering roads from yesterday, provided the backdrop to our kilometre killing mission, and very scenic it was too. Even if most of it was flashing past in a blur.

We approached Port Campbell at the western end of the Great Central Road early this evening, after being briefly threatened by a tag team band of rain clouds moving across the plains, heralded by a brilliant arc of lightning on the horizon. We kept the throttles open and managed to thread our way between the storm pockets, only very occasionally picking the contents and getting a light dappling of rain for our trouble.

That's the 'work' section of the road trip over with, tomorrow we travel along the Great Ocean Road, west to east, heading towards our rendezvous in Melbourne on Saturday. Port Campbell holds a few fond memories for me, I visited on my epic round Australia trip on something like day 3 of being on the bike, so I remember the place well. We're even camping in the same spot I did all those kilometres ago. The blackbirds singing in the trees to welcome us in were a nice touch, not heard a blackbird for a good long while.

Tomorrow, unless I fall off the Great Ocean Road and get eaten by a shark, there should be more to report and some better photos.

For now, off to bed. Even the bare ground looks comfortable after 560 odd km in that saddle. On a side note though, odd expression that 'something something odd km'. I can damn well recall riding the even km too, I've got the bruises to prove it!

Bright-en up the sky...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 11:20:00 +0000

Mother nature, ours andevery other motorcyclist constant companion, nemesis and sometimesally, had her metaphorical tail between her legs today and wasobviously apologising for the less than ideal weather we'dexperienced yesterday. Day three began in blazing sunshine, andcontinued much the same for the entirety of the fun had today. If youthought I was done with motorcycling clichés yesterday, then prepareto be disappointed. (There is no escape)

We climbed up throughthe Snowy Mountains along twisting roads which kinked up and down asoften as they jinked left and right, with minimal traffic to hinderour progress as it's the “off” season in the Snowies. Famed forits skiing, there wasn't much of that to be had thanks to there beingno snow, and an awful lot of sunshine. All the small towns and chaletcomplexes we passed were eerily deserted, their sad lookingchairlifts glinting in the sun as if being shiny would somehow beenough to attract the long gone skiers back.

Ski resort, no skiers but lots of bikes

The road, I know I saidthis before but there are lot of roads like this in these parts, wasmade for motorcycling. Nobody would string together that manyhairpins, sweeping curves, tight bends, crests and troughs unlessthey had a penchant for all things two wheeled. Or they got hammeredone day down at the local highways agency, either way it all workedout nicely for us.

The big BMW, who I'm onthe cusp of christening something Germanic like Helga or Broomhilda,had apparently gone on a crash diet. She seemed to weigh half theamount she had yesterday, far more nimble and much more manoeuvrable.Somehow energised by the sight of the fantastic roads, the BMWflicked through the bends and curves, stitching together thealternating left and right varieties with ease and apparent relish;despite what the muppet in the saddle thought he was trying to makethe bike do. It's surprisingly 'me' friendly that R1200GS, must havesome sort of idiot autopilot button that I hit by accident.

As we descended fromthe physical and metaphorical high point, the scent of Eucalyptuswhich had filled the air as we rode through the forest, was replacedwith the altogether less appetising aroma of hot asphalt and meltingtar. Temperatures were rapidly rising as we descended towards theplains on yet another great road, and with the sun high in the sky,sunglasses on and a tank full of fuel, it was all in danger ofbecoming another cliché.

High up in the not-so-Snowy Mountains

We sped along throughvelvet textured grassland, liberally interspersed with vegetationcovered hills and mountains which, from a distance, gave theimpression that someone had draped a huge felt blanket of trees overthe naked bumps on the earth. The first few hours of the day had beenspent in frantic pursuit of the perfect cornering line around thebends, transitioning from one to the other with little gap between.But now, now it was if someone had turned up the wavelength on thecorners and dialled in the calm.

The road stretched farahead towards the southern horizon, the languorous bends clearlyvisible for an age before encountering them and everything about theplace said 'relax'. Instead of the rapid succession of tight corners,it was now as if the bends had decided to chill out a bit. They had alot of ground to cover, so why bunch up? Time to just sit back andenjoy the smooth ride and lazily meandering road. So we did. Althoughsitting back and enjoying the ride is easier said than done on thatmotorcycle seat. After a few days in the saddle, you start toappreciate the benefits of a sofa, or possibly a concrete bench.

Somewhere along the wayon that route a pie leapt out from nowhere and landed in my mouth,then I think it either died, or it was dying beforehand. The lesssaid about that the better to be entirely honest with you, sometimeseating on a budget just doesn't cut it.

This man wants lunch, pray it's not a pie

Tiny communities,isolated in every way dotted the landscape. We passed a few onehorse, no horse and 'someone stole the horse and ate it' towns, eachone just as inexplicably friendly and welcoming as the next, beforewe finally turned west at the settlement of Mount Beauty. From therewe were treated to a repeat performance of the sort of roadsencountered in the first part of the day, only these were possiblybetter. I just let Helga / Broomhilda get on with it and enjoyherself, I was just along for the ride after all.

I'll tell you thisthough, for a big girl with a lot of plastic on board, she can bequite graceful when the occasion calls for it.

The town of Bright,marvellously fragrant with the scent of pine trees, is where we'veended up for the night. I'm hooked on the place already, but thenpine trees do it for me. Sleeping on a bed of needles tonight,couldn't ask for a better end to a pretty damn good day.

Possibly 500km or more to cover tomorrow, so it'll be a long day. If it's still Thursday when we finish, I'll try and post a few of the better photos we've got so far. For now though, a fragrant bed of pine needles is calling.

Day three, Jindabyne to Bright

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 22:46:00 +0000

Despite the best attempts of some temperatures well inside the 'quite chilly' range, we all survived the night without becoming icicles or being forced to congregate in the same tent, which is possibly worse.

Day three dawned good and early thanks to the local tribe of Galahs, who insisted on announcing to the campsite that they were all awake, therefore so should everyone else be. Still, the view from the tent could have been a darn sight more mundane:

I've woken up to worse

The Bike Round Oz chaps are doing a bit of work this morning, so I thought it best I post an update to show willing, at least for appearances sake. Today it's inland some more towards the alpine town of Thredbo, along the Alpine Way and then down to the next staging post of Bright. It's about 325km or so, but a lot of up, down, left and right so it'll be a leisurely days ride.

Lake Jindabyne. Behind the fat BMW, if you squint you might spot it

She huffed and she puffed...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 11:10:00 +0000

...but mother nature couldn't blow my house down.

Day two started much as day one had ended, in other words in the dark. It was dark, very dark when I awoke to the suffocating yellow claustrophobia, that is sleeping in my one man tent surround by motorcycle clothing. After managing to convince myself that even in the strange lands of the east coast of Australia, the custom isn't to get out of bed when it's dark, I went back to sleep until the sun deigned to grace the scene.

Batemans Bay rhymes with 'grey' and indeed it was

After a hearty breakfast consisting of the pie food group, we hit the road and mother nature let us have it with whatever she hadn't let us have the day before. More of the same insipid drizzle and gusting wind kept us awake and on our toes as we threaded our way south, interspersed with the occasional blush of sunshine to remind us what we were missing.

Despite the less than enthusiastic weather though, the highway was proving to be quite interesting to ride with plenty of scenic views along the way, provided you could squint between the water droplets on the visor. We swung west towards the Great Dividing Range (it divides things and is pretty good at it too) just outside the small town of Bega, apparently famous for cheese. Not sure if that's all cheese or just a specific type, but if it's cheese you're after then Bega is the place!

This BMW is cheese coloured, hence its inclusion here

As we progressed into the Dividing Range, threading our way along the narrow roads climbing higher every minute, the temperature did the exact opposite and legged it downwards. A brief stop to don an extra layer or two gave us a chance to look around the forests we were riding through. A mass of chlorophyll, abundantly green thanks to the rain that had been on the scene earlier. This wasn't just green, this was green with a point to prove.

The route twisted its way upwards, tight hairpins, sweeping bends, dips, rises, any number of motorcycle riding clichés were encountered along the way; the road was obviously built for bikes... and the truck carrying a lot of aloof looking horses I got stuck behind, but that's beside the point.

Once I was done examining the relative merits of the equine bottom, we emerged over the top of the mountains and threaded our way down through some vast, rolling grasslands. I was half expecting to have to slam on the brakes to avoid a herd of buffalo / bison / cowboys. The road stretched ahead for as far as the eye could see, gently curving to accommodate the hills on either side and even the sun came out to shine on our little three bike parade. Good times.

The addition of waterproof liners / over trousers or any form of waterproof garment to a bike rider, is a guarantee of good weather.

The last quarter of our days ride to Jindabyne was essentially perfect motorcycling, even rated on my somewhat dubious quality standard whereby 'perfect' basically means not falling off. Good weather, better roads and some pretty damn impressive scenery (and not falling off of course).

Despite all threats, Jindabyne the Great Dividing Range and the Snowy Mountains have so far elected to remain above freezing, although the metal chair I'm currently sitting on in a camp kitchen by the lake is probably approaching zero degrees C as I write.

There are plenty of pictures and even a whole load of video, but I'll have to deal with the majority of that when I get home, that's assuming survival of course. So for now you'll have to be content with the few scattered photos herein.

Tomorrow we're delving deeper into the Snowy Mountains, threading our way towards Thredbo (see what I did there?) and the delights to be encountered along the way. For now though, my yellow wedge of a tent and the interior of a sleeping bag is calling. Actually it's getting pretty damned cold now, wonder if the BMW has a tent heater on it somewhere.

Nope, they can't find the tent heater either

The one after the first...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 22:09:00 +0000

...the second day begins! Or rather it began earlier, much earlier, than I deigned to emerge from my tent. It's a bloody nice feeling to be back in a tent next to a motorcycle, even if it is like sleeping in a bright yellow plastic bag.

From the camp here in Batemans Bay, we're hopefully going to wiggle our way inland and up, towards the second night stop at Jindabyne in the Snow Mountains. It's threatening snow up there, I suppose the clue is in the name really, but it still seems a little over the top if you ask me.

Good job I brought extra socks with me I reckon.

Update this evening if we don't get mauled by yeti.

Sydney to somewhere not Sydney...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 11:08:00 +0000

Well we're off andrunning, or riding rather. After a night spent in the welcomingconfines of Sydney we travelled out to the bike depot, 10 mins orthree separate conversations with the taxi driver away, to collectthe three R1200GS bikes we'd been assigned for the trip from Sydneyto Melbourne.

They're a hell of a lotbigger up close and in person than they are in a 640x480 image on awebsite, that's for certain. Two vibrant yellow machines for thechaps from Bike Round Oz, and a black job for me. It's as if GoslingOne has been down the gym and on a course of illicit steroids.

Camping at Batemans Bay, miserable weather included free of charge

Being the first timeI'd been on a bike since leaving the Yamaha XT600E (Gosling One) inAustralia a couple of years back, to say the learning curve was steepwould be like comparing Everest to a small pile of icing sugar.Still, I like to think I started to get the hang of it againreasonably quickly, even managing to recover from the requisite stallbefore even setting off, without anyone noticing (or at leastmentioning it).

Weexited Sydney as fast as we could, which turned out not to be thatfast at all thanks for the quantity of Monday morning traffic andsome extremely vindictive traffic lights. Each stop at which, wasanother opportunity for me to try and drop said huge lump of Germanmetal and plastic. Sydney traffic can't last forever mind you, and weeventually popped free of the suburban chaos and into the relativelytranquil national parks to the south west.

Thundering(it felt like thundering, quiet at the back) along the tree fringedtwo lane road towards the coast was a welcome contrast to the stopstart, in and out hair raising navigation required to leave Sydney.As far as I had been concerned up til then, the 1200GS only had twogears, turns out it really has six. Live and learn.

Curving ocean side roads near the Seacliff Bridge

Stoppingin the coastal town of Thirroul for a coffee and some cake, gavemother nature an opportunity to muster her forces, leap over the treeblanketed mountains inland of the town and assault us when weventured back to the bikes. Mercifully she didn't send a great dealof rain, only an expeditionary force of wind in all strengths anddirections seemingly at once. The solid Germanic bulk of the 1200GSwasn't too bothered about all this, but my neck certainly has a fewextra kinks in it now, thanks to a few overly enthusiastic gusts aswe travelled south along the Princes Highway.

That asphalt snake thing, that's the Seacliff Bridge that is.

Apparentlythe normal advice from Bike Round Oz is for clients to find analternative to the Princes Highway as it's not rated to be terriblyinteresting, but we had to get to Batemans Bay before sundown andwere already running a bit behind. As far as I'm concerned it mightnot be up there with the 'worlds greatest roads', but it certainlywasn't as dull as I'd been expecting. Some nice little townsclustered around sheltered bays, a few twists, a few rises and only alittle traffic; although it might have all been stuck behind mydawdling bike I suppose.

When your motorcycle takes up more room than your tent, you know it's time to readdress your priorities.

We'renow camped just inland from the still apparently very annoyed ocean,in a caravan park / campsite chosen by yours truly because I wasrunning out of petrol. Nothing like necessity to make decision makinga more rapid process.

Thepreliminary plan for the morning of Tuesday is to head inland in a'wiggly' sort of fashion, towards the mountain town of Jindabyne,located in the 'BloodySoddingFreezing' mountain range...sorry, theSnowy Mountains. Reports had the temperatures up there a day or twoago at a most balmy -2 degrees C in the daytime. I know it'sDecember, but we're in Australia for crying out loud.

Campingis still on the agenda (I think this was my idea, but I don'tnormally have an agenda), but if it really is minus 2 there couldwell be a mutiny, followed by a swift exodus to a log cabin. Still, I think there's a button on this Beemer for some heated hand grips, would be a shame not to try them at least once.

East side...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 21:39:00 +0000

Arrived in Sydney yesterday evening to be greeted by decidedly 'inclement' weather. That's rubbish weather betwixt you and I. Windy, overcast and the sky was all leaky. Still, I'm not one to harp on about the foibles of the weather, I'm British dammit!

After stashing the great piles of kit I'd elected to bring with me, I hooked up with the two chaps from Bike Round Oz and we headed, somewhat predictably, to Sydney's oldest pub. Whether or not it actually has the right to claim that title is a matter of some debate, seemingly between it and the pub round the corner. Either way, it sated my airline induced hunger pangs with an ample portion of pie and mash.

We're off to collect our Germanic steeds this morning, in about 45mins in fact. 3 BMW R1200GS bikes should hopefully be awaiting us at a depot in Sydney. If not, it's a long walk to Melbourne.

They look like this:

I've probably mentioned that before, but I can't quite get used to how shiny it looks. (Also I wanted a picture to liven up this post, and I've not taken any yet) I'd best be keeping it that way too, those nice folks I mentioned before...they're looking after my credit card details, just in case.

More news to follow!

Bike round this...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 05:47:00 +0000

I've been invited, actually invited to something. Who would've thunk it.

The nice (or possibly mad) folks (of course they're nice, they invited me dammit) from BikeRoundOZ have been keeping an eye on my website, read through the article I had published a few months back and seemed to like what they saw. Either that or they didn't read it closely enough, but either way they got in touch with said invitation:

Would I like to accompany them on their annual company bike (work jolly!) trip and do a bit of writing about it along the way?

The last time I got invited to anything it was to 'step outside', so this sounded like an opportunity not to be ignored to me.

So basically, here we go again:

It's a week long trip starting tomorrow (Sunday 4th of Dec), going from Sydney over in New South Wales to Melbourne in Victoria. (Is that a lot of stuff for a week?) Apparently the route is something a bit like this:

Gosling One isn't back in my grubby little mitts just yet, but it turns out that's not a problem. Bikes are what they do at Bike Round Oz, and the mad buggers are going to let me spend a week on one of these:

They probably didn't read all the bits on the Arse About Face website where I mentioned crashing poor Gosling One into various solid objects, trying to drown her or getting bogged down in sand. Christ it's probably got shiny bits on it and everything, I can't handle shiny bits. Eeep.

Regular (daily with any luck) updates from along the way, it's not quite 10 months and 44,347km but we're back in the saddle, back on the road and that's what matters. Gosling One will forgive me this single indiscretion...I hope.

We're back baby...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 03:01:00 +0000

That's right we are, or at least I am. Back, back in the Counterweight Continent, the land of pie floaters, springy mammals and inordinately friendly locals: Australia. Gosling One, my faithful and loyal steed from the 44,347km road trip completed earlier, never left of course. I've just got to find her, and get her back! I'm comin' darlin!

I'm now based over in Western Australia, a few hours south of Perth. The plan (if it can be called such a thing) is to launch an all out assault on the unsuspecting Australian book publishers, agents and anyone that doesn't move fast enough, in an attempt to get 'Arse About Face' the book finally published.

I'll be updating this blog more frequently now as it also updates my main website over at www.arseaboutface.com, and with any luck of course, there will be plenty of reasons to update.

There's a cunning scheme in the making at the moment, so if it all pans out beautifully (what? when have any of my plans ever not worked out?) anyone that reads this will be the first to know; other than me, I'd like to think I'd know first.

Adventure Bike Rider...I read therefore I am

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 08:40:00 +0000

Issue 4 of Adventure Bike Rider magazine, published a feature of mine based on the Tasmanian leg of the Australia journey.

It's was on sale in magazine format a few months back, but I reckon enough time has passed now to offer it up to all those that missed it. You can download it by following the links in the top right of the website, or clicking this link here. [5.4mb download]

It even warranted a mention on the cover (the Outback Tasmanian bit), I certainly won't be using this particular periodical as emergency toilet paper that's for sure!

It can't have been that bad as they asked me for another one! ~~Suckers~~ Erm... I mean, people of fine literary taste.

Next up will be the tale of trying to reach Cape York at the most Northern point of Australia. Not sure on the publication date for that one yet, but when I know, everyone I know will know as well.

That thing that's the opposite of nothing happening...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 04:23:00 +0000

...that's it, something happening!

I've been hard at work, honest, stop snickering at the back; tinkering with the Arse About Face website fine tuning the inner workings, generally breaking things and causing all sorts of mischief. But the end result is that I can finally use my old blog, to update the news on my official website!

I was impressed, I can tell by the stunned silence that everyone reading this is in awe.

I'll updating the blog more often now as things Watson, are afoot!

New website online..

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 17:54:00 +0000

After many a month of mucking about and pulling my hair out, I've finally managed to get the new Arse About Face website online. It's over at www.arseaboutface.com if you want to have a look.

I'll probably integrate this blog into the site as a method for posting news at some point soon. Does that make it sound like I know what I'm doing? I really don't you know.

Oh and almost an afterthought: The draft of the Arse About Face book is also complete. Now, where to find a publisher or an agent? Answers on a postcard please to christian@arseaboutface.com.

Peace!

When there's nowhere left to run...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 12:16:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

Must get myself a pair of these funky plastic yellow shoes

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

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

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

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

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

Look, it's the white cliffs of the southern coast of England!

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

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

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

Be excellent to each other.

One size fits all

More snow related fun, this time...sledging!

High Seas Hijinks...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 10:47:00 +0000

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

The MV Al Fujairah turned out to be a very acceptable mode of transport, referred to by the German officers as a “comfortable prison”, albeit with a self-imposed sentence. Accommodation was very nice, almost akin to a floating hotel; food was plentiful and tasty, as long as you didn’t mind the unusual mix of German and Philippino influences. (The officers were German, and the crew were from the Philippines)

A handy sauna and gym were provided (consisting of a bike machine, a ping-pong table and a broken rowing machine) for those of a sadistic nature, and a couple of seawater pools for floating in; fish in a bowl simulator in heavy seas. Used quite a lot in the more southerly elevations, but unsurprisingly deserted when we got up to the cooler waters.

The fishbowl

So life quickly settled into an acceptable routine of breakfast at 7:30 (bloody early risers!), coffee up on the bridge, reading, writing, drawing (that sort of thing), and evenings spent watching knockoff Chinese DVD’s with the crew, and attempting to avoid the dreaded karaoke machine in the crew bar. The Philippino crew had disturbing propensity for belting out pop songs from their home country, usually with lyrics along the lines of “beer beer beer beer!”, I kid you not; I found myself quite close to jumping overboard a few times.

New Year dinner, a sea-pig

New Years party, somewhere near the Cannanore Islands (south west of India)

Christmas was spent on approach to the Singapore docks, and for new year we were to be found around the Cannanore Islands, belonging to India. (Down near Sri Lanka) The new year BBQ of pig (where we got that from I’ll never know, perhaps it swam past), also led to some more impressive singing from the crew. I’m fairly certain that their dulcet tones were enough to interfere with the migration of any passing whales, and to deter all but the hardiest of pirates.

Last sunset of 2007

First sunrise of 2008, yes I actually got out of bed to see it

Speaking of pirates, the closest we came was drifting for two days without engine power (due to a damaged piston), within sight of the Somalian coast; a region renowned for it’s pirate infested waters. All hopes of meeting Keira Knightley in pirate-garb were unfortunately dashed, it turns out pirates these days come with assault rifles, machetes and a worrying habit of kidnapping crews and holding them for ransom.

In the end, we just upgraded our security level one notch. That involved locking all the outside hatches, extra watches and patrols, and I was asked to stop running around on deck shouting “Yaaaaar!”. Killjoys. Shame really, I was quite looking forward to going all “Steven Segal” on a few piratey scallywags. Of course the more sensible option is to lock everyone in an easily defensible room, and let the pirates have their way with the cargo; it’s just not quite so filmik or exciting.

One knackered piston, the reason we were stuck in pirate infested waters for two days

Sundown off the coast of Yemen a.k.a scary pirate waters

So that was our only brush with potential high-seas miscreants, luckily.

Going all "Titanic" at the bow

If anyone ever finds themselves on a similar vessel, I highly recommend spending as much time down at the bow (pointy bit at the front for all you landlubbers) as you can. All the engine noise and commotion is 200m back behind you, and it is eerily quiet up the front; almost like being on a gigantic yacht. It’s also a good spot for experiencing the effects of weightlessness in high seas, with the deck rising up and then dropping away at a great rate. Not recommended for the weak of stomach though.

There weren’t too many chances for the sort of experience however, as apart from the last couple of days in the Mediterranean, Poseidon was kindly disposed toward us; I got my xmas wish of calm seas.

Luckily for me, the sea looked a lot like this for most of the time

The fire on-board and abandon ship drills were the only deviation from the comfortable routine, and it was all quite good fun. After having been strapped into the vertical drop life-vessel, I can safely say I wouldn’t want to be incarcerated in that thing during bad weather. I think it would rapidly become deserving of the moniker “the vomit comet”, that’s pretty much for certain. We all survived the imaginary fire without incident, although for some reason the captain deemed it necessary to abandon ship after we’d extinguished said fire; all a bit “arse about face” (shameless plug!) really.

The lifeboat, a.k.a the vomit comet

They look very happy considering we're abandoning ship

Inside the "vomit comet", looking up and out

So that was about it really, 26 days at sea and we finally sailed into Genoa at 0300 in the morning, with the snow dusted mountains of Italy bidding us a chilly welcome to Europe.

Genoa in Italy, where I left the ship

Apologies for the lack of pictures, I’m currently staying with some family in the French countryside near Nice, internet access is limited to dialup, so picture will be up one I managed to get back into the 21^st century.

Belated xmas and new year wishes to all!

Here are some photos from the voyage:

The Chinese port of Yantian

In port at Yantian, China

Unloading at night in Singapore (view from my porthole)

A bit of the Sailor's Hornpipe for xmas

Approaching Yantian port in China

Yantian deep water harbour

Singapore docks by night

In convoy, moving through the Suez Canal

A friendly tugboat

Darkness and rain, make for an interesting canal transit

Sunshine deck, lounge area and shuffleboard court

I think we're being followed

Somewhere in the Arabian gulf

You get a lot of nice sunsets on the high seas

In port, Yantian - China

View from the bridge

Sunrise ahead of the ship

Ship's compass plus sunset (duh)

The Egyptian side of the Suez Canal

Chasing the Dragon...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sat, 15 Dec 2007 12:19:00 +0000

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

My companions on the train from Xiamen to Shanghai

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

En-route to Shanghai from Xiamen

And thusly, after enduring a long and quite comfortable train journey if I were to be honest, I arrive in the bustling metropolis of Shanghai. Although it wasn't exactly 'bustling' when I showed up, what with it being about midnight n'all, I suppose it could bustle in it's sleep; but I didn't notice.

The glory that is Shanghai (image NOT approved by the Chinese Tourism Board), ok it was raining as well

Turns out Shanghai is quite cold at this time of year, what with it being substantially further north than Xiamen, and it being December (well duuuh); although I must admit it is turning out to be a welcome change from heat of previous months. It's quite a novelty to be able to see one's breath when walking the streets; although I could do without the throat tickling smog.

Shanghai, the up-market area

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

This was some fellow's house, built entirely out of whatever he could find, and erected under the motorway.

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

Bikes as far as the eye can see, outside the local metro station

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

Old meets new in China, old loses

Singapore at night, sponsored by DHL for some reason

Singapore at night

Gulangyu an island off the coast of Xiamen (also an island)

One of the many craft plying the waters between Xiamen and Gulangyu

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

Six demon bag...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 04:17:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stay tuned for pictures, bring on the iron horse!

Planes, trains and floaty metal things...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 05:03:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The MV Al Fujairah, or Gosling II as I like to call her

Now speed is clearly not the realm in which this beast resides, at 216m long, 32m wide and weighing in at 45,470 tonnes, you can safely say I won't be setting any speed records for the trip from Shanghai to Italy; in fact, it's scheduled to take 24 days. (give or take a few due to weather, diversions and /or miscellaneous pirate activity)

24 days at sea...all I want for Christmas is calm seas; you hear me Mother Nature?! Calm dammit!

I'll be keeping this blog updated as often as possible, much like before; although I'd imagine the posts will be less to do with motorcycles and more of the nautical variety. I've got my fingers crossed that the vessel will be crewed entirely by good looking women, although I think that's probably a bit of a long shot.

The only depressing thing about this whole exercise, is the fact that I've had to sell Gosling One in order to be able to even remotely fund the trip back. A plus point is that she's going to a good home, and will continue to bounce around all over Australia. (Cue the Born Free music, and some sniffling from the audience)

Cast off all lines ya scallywags!

All dressed up and nowhere to go...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 08:53:00 +0000

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

Gosling One in her normal condition

All dressed up and nowhere to go

It's unnatural I tells ya, she's not designed to be this clean!

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

Bring the noise!

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 12:02:00 +0000

You can view five videos over at the Arse About Face channel (http://www.youtube.com/arseaboutfacedotcom), but I quite like this one; so you can view it directly below:

The blog update proper is just below this entry:

Seven days in the sun...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 10:07:00 +0000

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

Gosling one, wielding an extra set of tyres

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

The tyres are buried at the base of this tree

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

Some big rock thingy I found in the desert

Uluru, not even remotely like Uhura from Star Trek

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

Flies en-mass

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

The Olgas (Desert + additional knobbly bits)

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

A small sandstorm on the Great Central Road (couldn't photograph the big ones)

A small sandstorm on the Great Central Road (couldn't photograph the big ones)

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

One humped roadblocks

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

This bunch have got the hump (ahaha!)

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

Size isn't everything, but I wasn't going to press the point with this chap

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

En-route to Steep Point

This is what you have to ride through to reach Steep Point

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

Steep Point: Most westerly spot of mainland Australia

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

Not a happy camper, last campsite of the trip

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

Mission accomplished!

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

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

A few more additional pictures to tide you over: (Click any for a larger version, as above)

Bloody mix up with the valet parking!

Last sunset of the trip

Thorny Devil (down by the front tyre), possibly the coolest lizard ever

Coolest...lizard...ever

Puncture repair kit on standby

Godzilla!

Nature at work: this waspy thing stung, then flew off with, that grey spider. Good job too, the bugger was lurking near my tent!

The traditional outback 'skimpies' establishment. With any luck Kat and Sam are women.

Colourful handlebar decorations

This parrot developed a relationship with itself in my mirror

My rally driving career gets off to a bad start

Part of the Great Central Road

To hell with your rules man, I'll park at 70 degrees, I'm a rebel me!

Who the #$*! is Alice?

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 03:09:00 +0000

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

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

View from the Great Ocean Road, near Johanna Beach

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

Clutching hold of nothing

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

The Oodnadatta Track, not all of it...just a bit

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

Camping it up at Curdimurka siding

The dead center of Australia, thought it warranted a cheesy picture

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

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

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

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

Trailbike Adventure Mag

Lake Eyre South, off the Oodnadatta Track: Salty

Transport options through the desert have improved somewhat since I was last here

One of many 'dust devils'

Protest art in the desert, or drunken plane parking; take your pick

Approaching the Flinders, honestly they're over there somewhere

Has anyone actually every seen a happy looking camel? I certainly haven't

Curdimurka siding on the Oodnadatta Track

Curdimurka siding on the Oodnadatta Track

In the pine forests of South Australia, having a tea break

Sand sand and more sand

One of the Finke locals checking out Gosling One

Gentlemen, I wash my hands of this weirdness...

noreply@blogger.com (Christian Anderson) — Sun, 02 Sep 2007 00:45:00 +0000

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

All back in one piece. Now 90% new parts!

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

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

Har-de-har-har, observe the stated colour

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

Stay tuned to hear how the run to Adelaide goes.