Went for a walk/run this morning at about 5.30 as the sun was coming up. A bit misty and very atmospheric, lots of mosquitoes. Came back, Showered and went for some breakfast at the roadhouse.
“G’day Boys, what do you want?” said the roadhouse man. “Good morning we are keen on some breakfast?” I reply. Dad says, “I just want a small breakfast”. Man looks blank, “Yup”. I am looking around for a menu, no can’t see one, “what do you do for Breakfast?”, uncomfortable pause, “Well we have the Small Breakfast, … Then there’s the Big Breakfast” another uncomfortable pause, “then of course there’s the Truckers breakfast”. “OK,… The Small breakfast sounds good, I’ll have one of those thanks”. “Do you want Baked beans or Spaghetti?” Ahh there’s a hint, “I’ll have baked beans please”, Dad pitches in, “ make it two of those, I’ll have beans as well, if I need to Fart I can always Stand up out of the saddle!” Roadhouse man chuckles. Rrriight, It’s going to be one of those days. The Roadhouse man started to move slowly and look around his counter, and was clearly looking for a piece of paper to write the order down. He got his paper then spent some more time organising a pencil, then looked at us Quizzically for a moment, then remembering what we had ordered from the menu he slowly wrote down the order. Even more slowly he delivered the chit to the Cook who was in the kitchen not doing anything. We were the only people in the place or even near to thinking about entering the place. He forgot to ask us where we would be sitting.
The small breakfast came after a significant wait. It was huge, four pieces of toast, two rashers of bacon, fried tomatoes, hash brown, large sausage and about a half can of baked beans. I am glade we did not order the Big Breakfast, we would have had to sit at separate tables for the plates to fit. I can not even imagine the dimensions of the Truckers breakfast, maybe it is delivered with a forklift to the truck waiting outside the kitchen?
Half way through my ascent of the small breakfast a couple of rashers of bacon descended from the heavens and splatted in the middle of my carefully dissected meal. Dad was clearly not able to eat this amount of food and was missing his dog, so was throwing the food at me instead. I guess I learned my table manners from mum. Eventually conquered the meal and staggered out into the car park holding my abdomen and groaning.
Loaded up the bikes then kicked the big twins into action and roared of into the distance like departing thunder, the man on the veranda stopped playing his banjo momentarily as the dust cloud from our spinning wheels drifted over him. Or was that pushed the start buttons and wized of into the distance smoothly, sounding like two sewing machines in the distance as no one noticed us leaving, you choose, this is your adventure as well. (The second one is closer to the truth).
The riding was interesting with the ongoing ancient feeling landscape and gently sweeping corners taking us the distance pretty quickly. Required some concentration, as there was the threat of livestock still. Pulled into Hall’s creek about 9am after a 160km start to the days riding. There was lots of Aborigine people of all ages lingering around the streets and sitting under the trees surrounded by rubbish, such as empty coke bottles, beer cans, chip wrappers etc. We pulled into the shell station to get some fuel, noticed groups of young people leaving the station including one young pregnant woman, all with soft drinks in hand, and chips.
I took my helmet off and started to get organised for fuelling up. An Aboriginal man who looked a bit unkempt, and was striking with his darkly stained teeth and blood shot eyes, came over and said “Nice big bike, very shinny”, “Yes. Thanks she’s a real beauty” I replied. “My name is John” He said, Nice friendly fellow I thought, “ Hi I am Garth” shaking his hand. Smiles both ways as two people from different walks of life connected. “You got a little two dollar coin?” he asked.
OK, here we go, a beggar, “one moment sir” I said as I reached into my bag and pulled out a little book. It is time to refer to the International edition of “How to deal with Beggars, and Down and Out Folks” I have the 4th edition in my bag just for moments like this. I open up to the contents page, now lets see, yada yada yada, ah yes, chapter 23 - Outback Australia, lets see, section 5, subsection f, Petrol stations. That sounds like us, flick flick flick, I turn the pages to the correct section. Yes here we go, flick, this is it, paragraph 3, ‘When a down and out alcoholic, smoking Aborigine beggar says “nice shinny bike, you got a little two dollar coin” This book has everything, yes here it is: “Nah Mate”
“What about a smoke then? You got a smoke?” now this one I can deal with “Mate, if you are out of money and have no smokes maybe it is a good time for you to quit? Do you realise that smoking is a very expensive habit, and it takes 15 years off of the average smokers life? About 25% of smokers who die of Smoking related disease die in their middle age. It is bad not only for your wallet, cardiovascular and respiratory system but is bad for all of those around you also. It is also very hard to quit and in fact when going cold turkey the chance of quitting I very low. Smokers take an average of 14 attempts to finally be successful when going cold turkey? If you do want to quit the chance of success is increased 3 fold if you use nicotine replacement therapy and a quit coach”, Blank Stare ,“OK mate” and he walks off to ask another Aborigine family in a very shinny Holden V8 the same questions.
That’s what I should have said but instead I just said “No, I don’t Smoke”, he stared blankly at me then said “OK Mate” and walks off to ask another aborigine family in a shinny Holden V8 the same questions.
Halls Creek did not seem that appealing so after fuelling up we got out of there. After another 120km or so we came across a rest area by river with the expected Crocodile warning signs. We got the camp chairs and table out and I cranked up the cooker again for a coffee. I was a bit distressed when I saw a pool of petrol around the cooker again once it was up and running, I tightened up the cooker on the base and it seemed to subside. Had a nice break and as usual had several people come up and chat about the bikes and previous bikes that they have owned. It certainly is an Ice Breaker to travel on Motorbikes. Lots of Grey Nomads in this rest area, camping in the middle of nowhere. They seem to just sit around looking at each other and comparing caravans and probably telling stories of electrical faults that they have had to fix on their machines and stories of woo about breakdowns I guess, interspersed with reading books and old newspapers. I can’t imagine there is anything else to do out in these areas, if you go for a swim a Croc eats you, if you go for a walk nothing changes for hundreds of kms, and a snake bites you or more likely you die of dehydration. So what do these people do with their time? Probably plan which stop they will make next? Who knows?
Headed on for another couple of hundred kms to the next settlement at Fitzroy Crossing. Interesting Boab trees every now and again. Fuelled up again, had a coffee and Pie for lunch, a chat with a couple of people about the bikes and our trip, then on again. Long straight road, after long straight road, after long straight road. Hot, very hot.
The light was fading and the cattle were on the road, so we stopped at Willare Bridge Roadhouse, a character some old building with very nice wooden floors and simple rooms with shared bathrooms, plus a camp ground out the back. Showered, me in the Gents shower, Dad in the Ladies. He did not see the sign on the door and was a bit mortified when he emerged from the shower with Ladies present, he seemed a bit put out when I loudly accused him of being “a dirty old man” as we were standing outside the Ladies bathroom. Laundered and then had a beer and meal downstairs. Dad shouted the woman that he met in the Ladies shower to buy her silence, but this only ignited suspicion in those at the table and a barrage of guess work about what the silence was for, Dad shouted the whole table, as he felt compelled to pay some sort of penalty I guess even although no one other than him, me and the silenced woman knew what it was about.
Met and interesting couple Ray and Val, who own and operate graders on the back roads. They live in a caravan out where they are working which can be very remote hence they have about 3 weeks supplies with them. Learned a lot about grading and the outback. Unfortunately they tell me that the Aboriginal communities are all the same including those in the rural areas, with then tending to be filthy and surrounded with rubbish and broken down housing and cars. Sounds like the Aboriginal communities are really lacking any sort of self - regulation. Val told me all about an Aboriginal remedy that she uses for anti itch and an insect repelant, she even drinks the stuff and claims it helps keep the bugs at bay and helps with the itch and burn of some of the more noxious bitey beasts.
700km day, with lots of it on straight and boring roads, I think we could be in for lots of this in the next couple of thousand kms.
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