Riding On

When I was a young boy my father would travel most summers to faraway places. He would return like a valiant conquistador with suitcases full of bounty. He would bring wooden dolls and filterless cigarettes from teh Soviet Union, model Porches from west Germany and various chocolates from the Netherlands. He would gather us in the family room for a slide projector presentation of his journies. With a clicking sound each individual slide would fall into place as I eagerly anticipated the image that would illuminate against the white bed sheet hung against the opposite wall. I sat in the dark room in wonderment as my father spoke about the architecture and works of art he saw, the people he met and their struggles. I knew that one day I would see the world like my father had.On the long stretch from Miles to Carnarvon Gorge, endless stretches of single lane black and red pavement lay in front of me. To ammuse myself I would honk my blaring horn at the numerous crows feasting on the endless Kangaroo roadkill buffet, and at the range cows lazily munching on field grass. My efforts were mostly greeted with blank stares. At one crossing 20 head of cattle lay between me and the oncoming road, I slowed my speed and feverishly blew my bikes horn, all but one sped away! as I zig zagged he matched my every move like a skillfull linebacker. Then, finally within a margin of one foot I passed safely.At carnarvon Gorge, an Australian National park, I rented for the night a one person canvas tent complete with a small cot and an electric fan.Immediately after unpacking my things I set off on the Aboriginal art walk trail. The perfectly manicured path led to massive alcoves with limestone cliffs sculpted by millions of years of water trickling down the rockface. Large ponds of water gathered at the bottom framed by dark green moss completed these little pictures of paradise. Running low on water and feeling the effects on my back and legs from the long ride I head back to camp for some well deserved rest.That night at the campground, I meet an older couple from Austria enjoying an entire year on holiday exploring Australia and Africa in their gargantuan Mercedes troop carrier which they had shipped from Europe. On the side of the vehicle was a map of the world with small icons to show where they had been, most of the map was colored in.

Immersion

I awaken startled, disoriented in pitch black, I fumble around for my new G-shock watch, it's set to military time, my languid brain can't make the computation. I decide to rise and prepare for day one of the journey from Noosa to the small mining town of Miles 470 Kilometers away.
My mental preparation begins with repeating the mantra of "stay to the left" I know a simple mental error of driving living like I do back home could result in a shortened vacation!
The busy highways of Noosa slowly give way to calm meandering single lane roads spotted with small dairy farms and roadside honey stands. The air is crisp and damp, I know this will change radically in the coming week.
As I slow my speed to 30 KPH entering the small town of Murgan, I see a congregation of people playing games and picnicking in the towns central park, I downshift to slow my speed, the rear wheel skids momentarily and makes a chirping noise, one of the men looks over and we lock eyes for about 5 seconds, I nod my head, he nods back, I realize that I have seen my first Aborigine.
Back onto the long well paved road outside of Kingaroy I am introduced to the many road trains passing me in the other direction. These are behemoth sized semis trucks retro fitted with menacing, mad max style bumpers made of steel tubing that snake up and around the front grill. Even the passenger cars are fitted with smaller versions of the bumpers. I nickname these "roo whackers" evidently Kangaroos are slightly suicidal and like insects to a porch light, will run over the road then back into the coming headlights.
When these road trains pass, my helmet shakes around my head like a loose bucket and I'm treated to a nose full of whatever cargo they carry.
As the sun starts to set on the lonely sunburnt horizon I pull into the town of Miles, know for its coal and oil mining.
After I secure some meager accomodations in a broken down trailer park, I head toward the town pub and bottle shop to have some xxxx Gold, a very potent and popular Australian grog. In the pub I meet the bartender, a nordicly innocent and attractive girl from Hamburg, Germany, working and traveling her way through Australia. After a lengthy conversation with her I Pick up on the grumblings and icy stares from the coal mining patrons who have decided I've had enough attention from the local, blond attraction, I bid a good night and head back to my ancient 5th wheel for some well deserved slumber.

The Arrival

I keep repeating myself: im in Australia! Im In Australia! IM IN AUSTRALIA! After a couple more surreal moments my intellectual brains meshes with my rudimentary cortex and accepts that after a 14 hour flight on Virgin Australia, I am indeed in the land down under!During the two hour bus transfer up the coastal freeway from Brisbane airport to Noosa Leads, I listen to the Australian passengers speak freely and kindly with one another as if they have known each other for years! I finally pipe in and ask some simple geography questions to which I receive more complete answers than a college professor would give. A heaping bald man in his 30's ask's me "you on holiday mate?" I tell them of my planned excursion through the outback on two wheels. The bus driver tilts his head awkwardly sideways and says "Ahh, bloody hell mate, theres nothin out there but roos and emu's" I answer "that's why im goin" I come to the quiet conclusion they have me figured for another crazy American.After many well wishes and pieces of final advice, they drop my at my destination, Aussie Biker.As i walk through the door of this modest, well equipped shop, I hear "you must be Kevin" I look over to a desk in the corner to see and older, gaunt man with a salt and pepper beard fumbling through some papers. He invites me to sit with him. For the next hour and a half we chat about Moto GP, Triathlons and Hollywood, where he assumes I am from, given my Southern California address. Later, the shop owner, Dave, introduces me to my steed for the journey, an all red 650cc, BMW enduro bike which I quickly name "Eric the Red" after the Viking king who explored and conquered most of Northern Europe several centuries ago.In the early evening I am taxied to my hotel, The "Royal mail" a quaint, antique hotel with paper mache walls add black and white photos of the building in the 1930's before it burned to the ground then rebuilt only to burn again and be rebuilt again. After a quick jaunt around town i'm laying face up on my Pygmy sized twin bed staring at a wobbly ceiling fan creak as it painfully turns counterclockwise. Downstairs is the hotel pub where I hear throaty roars of laughter during a hotly contested game of darts. As I fade into oblivion I contemplate the monumental task that lay ahead and quite possibly the greatest journey I have faced yet!

The Aspiration

As with most of my lofty schemes, this one began well after the 11pm hour with a couple generous pours of syrah. I've heard the stories of lore from Australia: The Box jellyfish has enough poison in its sticky tentacles to paralyze the entire Australian swim team, the Taipan snake can fell a creature the size of an elephant, if a funnel web spider decides to share your sleeping bag it may be your last goodnight!
I'm intrigued and decide I must investigate this habitat and I have to do it with the most favorable method to experience the weather and to survey the land, by motorcycle!
A couple of key strokes later on hotwire.com and my rountrip tickets from Los Angeles to brisbane have been purchased! The next day I reserve my BMW 650cc Dakar enduro motorcycle from a small shop in Noosa on the Gold coast. The itinerary of cities I will travel through reads like a J.R.R Tolkien novel: Birdsville, Wilpena pound, Maree, Longreach, Broken Hill and others.
The total distance of the journey, 5500 Kilometers or 3500 miles, mostly dirt, above 100 degrees and moderately to very dangerous! What have I gotten myself into?