(NOTE: If you click on any of the blue, underlined hot links, a new window will open. Close the window to return to this page. You can see some "road views" on another page and I also have pages which show the towns we went through and some of the more interesting sights I saw on the trip. Hot-links on this page will display one or two images from those pages; at the bottom of this and each page you will see links taking you to those pages and more text/photos.)
Like most motorcycle touring riders, I've planned and conducted many tours by myself, basically just going from town to town, visiting stuff I've read about or heard about from friends and others. In the spring of 1999, while planning for my "big trip" for the summer, I decided to try something new. I've driven my Honda Gold Wings to all the lower 48 U.S. states and northern Mexico, camped in many of the states. I thought about going into Canada, then decided to REALLY go outside the country and tour overseas. Flip of a coin and Australia beat out the U.K. and Ireland.
I didn't know much about Australia's touring conditions so I decided to let someone else plan my ride. I contacted several tour operators, and finally decided to go with Countrywide Motorcycle Tours Australia (CMTA), a two-man outfit in Moruya, New South Wales. The rest didn't respond to e-mail or charged too much. CMTA responded quickly and gave me a lot of information about their tours. They didn't have any big touring bikes/dressers to rent but that didn't seem important at the time.
I flew into Sydney via Air New Zealand (a really great airline!) arriving the 19th of November (after a 19+ hour flight). I spent two days touring Sydney by foot, bus and mono-rail, doing the usual touristy things like riding around their huge harbor on a ferry, going to the Taronga Park Zoo north of the city, and so forth. The Zoo and the National Aquarium were high on my "to do" list - I wanted to see the strange animals and fish and both had many examples. The Aquarium, for example, had 3 huge exhibits UNDER Darling Harbor - you walk through plexiglass tunnels surrounded by fish in 3 biospheres - the harbor, the ocean and the Great Barrier Reef. Imagine seeing sharks and rays and sea turtles swimming over your head, inches away. Amazing. The National Museum showed how life evolved in Australia, separate from influence of life elsewhere on Earth.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that many/most restaurants in Sydney had tables outside - the temps were in the high 70s so I ate all but one meal outside when in town. I stayed at a "backpacker" hotel (the Vulcan, in the Ultimo district), for about US$40; the facilities were down the hall but for 1/3 the cost of a regular hotel and just 3 blocks from the main bus pickup point . . .
On the 21st I flew to Moruya, about 186 miles south of Sydney on something called the Eurobodalla coast. (You can load a map into a window to follow along or print it out.) Not only did Ashley Behringer and Fergus Hood, the co-owners, meet me at the airport - so did about six other motorcyclists from Moruya! We immediately went to a local pub (well, it WAS waayy past 2 p.m. and high time for a beer) to get to know each other, talk about motorcycles, and see who could tell/swallow the biggest lies. Nice "mob". Moruya's claim to fame: the stones used to anchor the ends of the Sydney Harbor Bridge came from Moruya (the pub had photos of their excavation).
I was put up at the "guest house" of Dr. Steve Murray, a local general practitioner. An Aussie guest house is a business in which you stay in someone's home. You'll find them all over the country. Not a bed and breakfast - more like staying with in-laws. You can see photos of Moruya and Murray's house on the towns page. The Moruya area is a narrow band of land sandwiched between the Pacific and the "Great Dividing Range" - a mountain chain that runs along the SE coast of Australia. The Range reminds me of the Appalachians in the U.S., and the Moruya area (away from the coast) looks like the Shenandoah Valley or the east slope of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia.
On the 22d (Monday) Ash and I left Moruya on our bikes - he was on one of CMTA's Paris-Dakar (GSPD) bikes and I selected the sole BMW R1100R from their stable of 5 BMW R1100GS, 3 BMW R100GSPD, a BMW R100GSPD sidecar rig, a BMW R100GS, and a Suzuki 250 (how'd that get in there?). The R1100R didn't have a windscreen but at the time, I didn't think that mattered. Boy, did it matter! The first day we drove about 130 miles to Canberra, the Australian Capital Territory, fighting a head wind all the way. We went up the coast to Bateman's Bay and then drove across the Great Dividing Range - climbing several hundred feet up to a vast plateau west of the mountains, between the Range and the Outback (Australia's huge central desert). A front passed through Canberra while we had dinner - we rode back to the motel in a light rain.
Canberra (and most of my trip) was on what Ash called the tableland or "bush" - a vast area of rolling countryside, scattered towns and farms from Canberra north to the Queensland border. We went to Canberra so I could see the Australian War Memorial, a monument for Australia's vets, and the National Motorcycle Museum. The AWM was pretty impressive - a lot of Aussies have died for England in its wars and the AWM had rooms for a number of the wars, including the South African Boer War (1899). The latter exhibit had a poll - did Lt. Harry "Breaker" Morant, an Aussie soldier serving with the British Army, receive a fair trial from the Brits when he was tried (and later executed) for "war crimes"? Sentiment ran pretty much that he was a scapegoat for British failures in this early example of guerrilla warfare.
The nearby town of Mitchell hosts both the AWM's Treloar Technology Centre (where they put the stuff not yet in an exhibit) AND the National Motorcycle Museum. The Tech Centre was basically just a big attic filled with stuff (see the sights page). The aircraft wing of the main museum was being renovated so all their planes were disassembled and jammed into the Tech Centre - I couldn't get in to see the stuff up close.
The M/C Museum was a nice surprise. They had over 230 motorcycles in an uneven collection jammed together in a large warehouse (moving soon? to a small town on the NE coast). Most of the bikes are owned by one family and the range of bikes is uneven - I saw quite a number of Brit bikes but thee Japanese bikes were under-represented and there were no Harleys. They had a number of "Asian" bikes like the Indian-made Enfield, the Chinese Chang-Jiang (a wretched copy of a BMW) and Aussie bikes like the 1949 Acme. I took a number of photos but they didn't come out as well as I'd hoped. The museum also has a wide selection of motorcycle memorabilia and a number of collectibles for sale.
From January 6 - 9, 2000, Canberra hosts the Super Cycle Spectacular, part of the southern hemisphere's biggest automotive show and party, this will be a showcase of the best custom Harleys from Oz and elsewhere. One of Arlen Ness' outrageous motorcycles will be there. Basically, this should be a three day party for Harley enthusiasts and other motorcyclists.
Tuesday a.m. (23d) Steve "Speersy" Speers, one of Ash's "mates" joined us and we headed northward on one of the few roads I saw that looked like an Interstate. After a chilly start, we stopped for "a cuppa" in Yass and Speersy's mom joined us - she was heading north "on holiday", pulling a pop-up camper behind her "ute" (pickup truck). We later passed her after we got back on the road. We stopped for lunch in Cowra and Ash introduced me to an Aussie "meat pie" - some kind of meat and a sauce like bad chili in a small pie crust. Edible, if not nutritious. I sampled a two or three more over the next eight days but didn't really develop a taste for them.
During World War II, there was a huge prisoner of war (POW) camp in Cowra, with German, Japanese and Italian POWs. On 5 August 1944, some 900 Japanese staged a breakout by setting fire to their huts and hurling themselves onto the barbed wire. They felt they'd "lost face" by being captured and believed that only by killing Aussies or dying would their honor be restored. Several hundred, almost half, died on the wire, and the few hundred who escaped were all recaptured within a few days. Three Australians were killed in the escape. There's a small cairn to mark the scene of the breakout (Ash said there's an Aussie-made movie of the breakout). After the war, a number of businesses and tourist attractions (like a Japanese garden) were started in Cowra by Japanese - you see many signs of a Japanese presence in the town.
Ash & I had talked about www.ebay.com, on-line auctions and the kinds of "genuine Australian collectibles" he might auction on-line. We stopped at a large antiques store in Molong and while they had good stuff, they charged WAAY too much. Just up the road from Molong we stopped at the southern end of Wellington, a bump in the road. We stopped because they erected the most bizarre-looking sculpture I've ever seen a city use to promote itself. I thought someone had far too much Aussie beer when designing that sculpture, but then again, I've never been known for my taste in art. We finished the day in Dubbo, a railroad town some 263 miles from Canberra. The weather never got above the 70s and the sun was brilliant - few clouds in the sky. Good day of riding. We had dinner at the Railway Bowling Club - a typical local institution in small towns, something like a restaurant at a golf course in the U.S. This was a social and sports club for people associated with the railroad, I gathered.
Wednesday the 24th dawned warm and sunny so we headed north from Dubbo, swinging east after Gilgandra. A few miles down the road, we cut north and soon hit the first long stretch of gravel road as we approached Warrambungle National Park. I don't like to ride on gravel but all the gravel roads (and I must have ridden over 100 miles on gravel on this trip) I encountered were, for the most part, very easy to ride. The gravel was hard-packed and not covered by lots of loose stuff. Of course, it was also dry, and that makes a great deal of difference. The only hairy part was when the road went through a creek bed - again, the creeks were low and the roads were not hard to negotiate. Anyway, we continued for about 9 miles until we got to the Park. The roads page has several photos showing the approach to the Park. We passed several groups of emus (large flightless birds) running alongside the road going into the Park.
We pulled into the "caravan park" (campground) in the park - for a pit stop, I thought. Then Ash pointed out the 'roos. There were about 15 kangaroos wandering or lying about the campground, tame as the deer in a kiddies' petting zoo. Well, they seemed tame - I didn't want to be in a "When Tame Bloodyy 'Roos Attack!" video so I kept my distance, but a few of the big 'uns kept approaching me (for some "tucker" or food, according to Speersy). I've been in a number of US campgrounds and I've never seen deer or other wildlife as tame and adjusted to humans as were these 'roos. No predators, no threats, and humans willing to feed them, so they've just become tame scroungers.
Ash and Speersy said they wished more 'roos were like these - too many wild ones wander across roads after dark. Ash's partner Fergus had hit one in the spring of '99 and was barely recovered by the time I'd arrived - he had partial memory loss and had to wear an eye patch - his bike hit one in the Great Dividing Range and flipped several times. Ash was so worried about them, he wouldn't let me take a bike out into the bush at night to look for 'roos and see the stars (well, he might have been worried about all the Aussie black ale I drank, too). Wombats are another road hazard - like little black furry pigs - slow-moving road hazards.
After leaving the park, we passed through Coonabarabran and turned back toward the Castlereagh Highway. At Coonamble, we stopped for a "counter lunch" - food in a pub or bar's lounge area, then turned north toward Queensland. As we approached the end of the bush country, the land became flatter, more arid and rocky. We finally reached Lightning Ridge around 5:30 p.m., the last town before Queensland, after traveling about 317 miles.
Lightning Ridge is the heart of Australia's black opal mining country. Ninety-five percent of the world's black opals come from Lightning Ridge. On the edge of town, the city limit sign lists the population as "?" - no one knows how many people are in the area (legitimately or otherwise). The whole town is oriented toward mining - you're either a digger or a buyer. The motel we stayed in has safes in many rooms, to store your booty (whether you're a digger or buyer). There's a number of references around town to "ratters" - people who sneak into a mine to steal opal dirt. Local lore says several hundred ratters are permanently stashed in sealed mines throughout the area. To be a digger, you get a lease from the government to "peg" a 50 x 50 meter (163.6 x 163.6 foot) plot of land and then dig straight down 30 - 50 feet looking for opal-sign. Apparently the countryside around Lightning Ridge is honey-combed with 3 foot wide holes (not all the played-out mines have been filled in) leading down to mines. While I didn't venture into the mining areas (I look too much like a ratter), I bought a black opal in town for US$320 - an appraiser here in Alexandria told me it's only worth about US$400 (there goes my grand scheme to have Ash help me smuggle black opals into the U.S. to sell on e-bay; drat!).
In the motel's pub/bistro, we talked with a local about the weather and roads up in Queensland. Jack said that many of the roads we planned to ride were under water or were damp red clay and gravel. After talking with him, we had dinner (a large thick t-bone for about US$6.50) and talked motorcycles. Some time later, walking through the bistro, I heard a woman calling "Doc, Doc!". I immediately galloped toward the sound of her voice and was introduced to Jack's elderly mum and pa. They acted like I was a nephew they hadn't seen for a few years and briefed me on their retirement activities. Jack's dad talked about motorcycles he rode during World War II - WLA Harleys - and said (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) there was a bunker in the Outback with several hundred bikes, still in crates, stored during the war (low probability of this being true, by the way). When I finally left, "mum" said "Godspeed" and gave me a peck on the cheek. Truly amazing the way Aussies made me feel like I was at home.
Thursday the 25th dawned sunny and warm in Lightning Ridge. We spent the a.m. going into an old opal mine and wandering around the opal shops downtown. There were a number of paintings/murals around town illustrating the area's mining culture. Massive clouds could be seen to the north. Ash said we should skip the Outback - the weather was just too threatening and the roads too iffy to ride. We left the Ridge and headed south, turning east just before Walgett. This was probably the hottest day of the trip - my keychain thermometer said it was about 85 degrees. We stopped at a park in Moree in the afternoon for a bit of rest before pushing on to Bingara, a small town on the edge of the New England mountains. Only about 242 miles today due to the time we spent checking out the Ridge.
We stayed in the Imperial Hotel, a pub owned by Eric Ozols. Eric, who owns a customized Harley Springer and runs a "biker-friendly" pub - clubs use his place to meet, take a pit stop or just hang out. The meal was great there, and the ambience in the "lounge" (the bar) was first rate, but like all the pubs we visited, the sleeping quarters were not very appealing - hot, facilities down the hall, plaster falling off the walls, mattresses that were little more than hammocks, and bugs in at least one of the pubs. All the pubs, though, provided us with secure, off-street parking (usually behind the pub). Also, though most didn't serve breakfast, per se, we were allowed to "make ourselves at home" in the kitchen, scrounging for cereal and toast and coffee for breakfast. In one pub, some of our mob even cooked breakfast in the pub kitchen. The whole attitude was very casual, very laid back - "just help yourselves" is often a pub rule, apparently.
Two more of Ash's buddies joined us at the Imperial Hotel in Bingara, Mark "Dutchy" Holland and Colin "Col" Meumann, both on BMWs (Dutchy on one of the CMTA bikes, Col on his own red "K" bike). Col is an immigrant - he came to Oz from South Africa 20 years ago and stayed; he now has a large petrol distribution business on the coast.
Friday the 26th dawned bright and sunny, again. Sigh, will this magnificent weather never end? (Betcha' I'm gonna regret THAT remark!) After a light breakfast, we ran south from Bingara to Tamworth, the country music capital of Australia. We had lunch in a pub beside "the Guitar shop" - a touristy place that hawked mementos of Aussie musicians and has a wax museum of such luminaries as Dusty Slim (one of the more popular singers). I found an Aussie (John Williamson) who sings "pub songs" - the kind you can sing along with (like an Irish pub song artist). I bought a CD of Williamson's hits and Ash bought a cassette which he gave to me later - same artist! Guess Ash read my mind about the kind of music I like - Williamson's got a number of "fair dinkum Aussie" songs like "Diggers of the ANZAC," "I'm Fair Dinkum," "True Blue," (the Australian equivalent of Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the U.S.A.") "Home Among the Gum Trees" (GREAT bar song!) and "Stuffed If I Know."
We ran westerly from Tamworth after lunch and turned off the main road near Mullaley, heading southward. As we ran through an area of low hills, still along the western edge of the Great Dividing Range, clouds started to pile up. We stopped in a small village called Tambar Springs for a cuppa and watched the clouds piling up over the mountains. There were several signs around here warning of koalas - didn't see any but Ash pointed out the distant blue haze of eucalyptus trees - signs of homes of the beasts. As we left Tambar Springs, the temperature seemed to drop (not sure if it got out of the 70s this day) and rain began to fall as we approached Gulgong and another pub. 281 miles today.
Gulgong is an old town with narrow, twisty streets, barely wide enough for one car. As we sat in the pub's lounge, some guy in a blue uniform pulled up to the pub in a ute. He came in and passed around from table to table, holding a small box. Patrons would dig up a few coins and toss them into his box. I figured (or, "reckoned," as they say in Oz) he was a fireman or cop doing funds raising and tossed a few bucks into his box. (The Aussie $2 coin is about the size of a US penny - kept forgetting that).
"Good on ya, mate!" Ash and the others said as the guy left the pub.
"Who was he?" I asked.
"Salvation Army, mate."I got the impression that more than one charity does funds raising by cruising pub lounges. He'd have been pushed out the door in a U.S. bar but in Gulgong, the locals greeted him as a friend and chipped in their change.
The 27th dawned overcast and cold - fortunately, no rain. I put on two extra shirts and my rain gear, just in case. Col left us to return to Moruya for some business. Speersy had us all running around the pub looking for his wallet. Ash finally found it - Steve had shoved it into his swag for safe keeping and forgot about it. As we left the pub, headed south, I really felt the cold - no windscreen or fairing really made a difference and the chill cut right through my gear (didn't bring any leathers). We dipped along several back roads, passing through Kandos and Sofala on our run southward. Sofala is another of those old, old towns with narrow streets that has been bypassed - it's not on a main road like Gulgong. However, Sofala HAS been "discovered" by Aussie motorcyclists. Riders would often come here from Bathurst (see below) to ride the roads and stop for lunch in the pub. Apparently a mob came up one time after the races and was a bit rowdy. The publican, a little old lady, entered the lounge with shotgun and fired a blast into the roof of the lounge before sternly stating something like: "Right! Settle down, lads!" The holes from the buckshot are still in the ceiling.
We reached Bathurst a little later, planning to stop for lunch and to warm up. There's a race track in Bathurst, Mount Panorama, where the Aussies have had motorcycle races until a few years ago. It was built in the '30s specifically for motorcycle racing under the guise of being a 'scenic road'. The Auto-Cycle Union began staging road races there in 1938 even before the road was sealed with tar! The racing had to stop though; too many riders were falling and sliding off the side of the mountain. The track runs through a residential neighborhood like the Isle of Man TT, up the side of a low hill, then back down. Even after adding a curvy bit to slow riders coming off the hill, there were still too many crashes so the bike races ended. However, April 20 - 23, 2000, the BIKES ARE BACK! There are a lot of ads (I first saw them back north in Bingara in Eric's pub) about Bathurst's "Easter Motorcycle Festival" - Australia's version of Daytona's "Bike Week", with parties, bands, motorcycle movies under the stars, camping, races, etc.
After lunch, Dutchy and Ash pulled the windscreen off Dutchy's bike (another of Countrywide's bikes) and put it on my bike. I was also told how to use the heated hand grips - DUH! At last, a break from the cold and wind! We left Bathurst, continuing west and south toward Boorowa, a town we had passed through on Tuesday. However, I neglected to tell Ash that the reserve light on my bike went on so, yep, ran out of gas. Speersy came back and bled some petrol from his huge tank - several hundred milli-litres. We started rolling again and after several miles and no towns, I ran out of gas a 2d time. Again, Speersy to the rescue and another coke bottle of petrol was transferred to my BMW. We raced to catch up with the rest and, suddenly, out of gas again! Something about the tank having two sides, all the gas pooled on one side . . . Back comes Steve and I get a third loan of gas from his tank. Between looking for Speersy's wallet, the cold, 3 stops to refuel my BMW, and our visits in Sofala and Bathurst, we only logged 186 miles today. I felt as if I'd been ridden hard and put up wet.
In Boorowa, we headed to the Ram & Stallion Pub, owned by Peter Collins. Another old pub which Peter just bought and is renovating. The rooms are still crappy as Hell but the lounge and dining room have been fixed up nicely and Natalie and Sharni, the "Shielas" (Aussie spelling) behind the bar, are real charmers. Peter doesn't ride a bike but gave us the impression that he'd welcome riders - he's got a nice yard behind the pub where we parked our bikes overnight. More of the Moruya mob of motorcyclists joined us - this time it was the Harley contingent: Dean "Pricey" Price (98 Heritage Softail) and Bert & Helen McKay (Wide Glide & 880 Low Rider). I find that I'm in the enviable position of drinking and swapping bike yarns with six veteran Aussie motorcyclists about where to ride, what towns to visit, how to cross the red clay of the Outback on the bike, etc. Natalie and Sharni kept the mob amused and with full cups until after 2 a.m. In the morning, as we began getting ready to ride, Natalie showed up demanding "I wanna ride on a Harley!" Pricey won the honors and after finding gear for her, Natalie got her ride. I expect that Pricey will go back to the Ram & Stallion again. She liked the Harley.
Sunday the 28th Bert and Helen left us headed north on a mini-holiday (probably into wet weather, too, judging by the clouds). We ran south, back through Canberra, where Pricey, Dutchy and Speersy (are you seeing the pattern in Aussie nicknames here?) left Ash and me. We rolled south and pulled into tiny Cooma, stopping at the city's park (typical in many mid-sized towns we passed through) for a bit of rest and the cool shade of the gum trees. Immediately after we stopped, Ash said, "There goes Speersy!" Steve had changed his mind and was running south on the main road, not heading directly back to Moruya. Ash hopped on his BMW and caught up with Speersy outside town. We sat and talked a bit but when we left Cooma, Steve headed eastward over the mountains toward the coast.
Ash and I turned westward toward the Snowy Mountains - source of much of the watershed of the great Murray River hydro-electric system and Australia's winter playground. Reminded me of the foothills of the Rockies in summer - barren, few trees, poor ground. Ash said they get their share of snow - enough to make the town of Jindabyne, our destination, resemble Aspen or Vail in the late spring. Another short day - 187 miles - and we planned to spend the night with Jan Barkla and Scott Vickery. Their home overlooks Jindabyne's lake and the Snowy Mountains - fantastic view. We sat on their balcony sipping brews, watching the sun set. Scott has a big blue Harley which he bought in Perth (west coast) and drove back to the SE coast (with Jan on the back seat). Jan has had her share of experiences - she's been a bush ranger up in the Northern Territories, managing wildlife and tourists and riding the countryside on horseback. She now commutes to a desk job on a Kawasaki 250cc GPX.
Monday the 29th and we're heading back to the barn. "Wanna ride some gravel?" Ash asks, grinning. I should know better but, "Yeah, I'm game". We head east from Jindabyne on a road that quickly turns to hard-packed gravel - over eighteen miles of it! But the scenery is spectacular and there's almost no traffic, the temp is in the 70s, Jimmy Buffett is playing on my helmet headset . . .
We finally hit the main road and swing south toward Bombala. Turns out Bombala, another small Aussie town, has its own festival for motorcyclists every September! We pull into town and stop at a small cafe, under renovation, that has some very fine motorcycle prints (from "the Hensel collection"?? - really fine poster-sized images). Ash asks again - wanna ride across the mountains or down to the south? Didn't get into Queensland - let's run south into Victoria.
As we run south from Bombala, I think Ashley must be falling asleep or something - his speed drops to 60 kph (under 40 mph) and we're on this really fantastic twisty road dropping down from the tableland to the coastal plain. And he's POKING along! Well, I blow past him and unleash the beast to 80, 90 kph (sounds impressive, but that's less than 55 mph). But the road is just so nice and there's almost no traffic. Ash finally catches up to me at the Victoria border where I stop for a photo.
"Sorry, Ash," I began as we dismount. "You slowed down too much - I had the 'need for speed'".
"No worries, mate," he replied, "I don't think any coppers saw you speeding."
"Speeding?!?"
"Too right, mate - the speed limit through there was 60 kph."Back on the road, we reach the end of the line at Cann River, Victoria. We stop for gas and a "squash" (an Aussie drink - lemon juice and club soda). As we're starting out, heading north toward Moruya along the coast, Ash does an "emergency Bat-turn" and heads north, yelling that he wants to check something out. We run back northward a mile or so and pull into some guy's front yard and while I'm trying to figure out what's going on, Ash walks into the guy's house. I notice that it's also some kind of home/store - he apparently sells wood carvings. WWith typical monkey curiosity, I head into the guy's house to see what he's selling.
Brian Dumpers carves stuff out of Australian hardwoods. He especially carves motorcycles. Brian has two full-sized Harleys, made entirely of wood and made with excruciating detail. He also has several smaller models, maybe 18 - 24 inches long. The smaller models go for AU$700 (about US$450) and he'll make one of anyone's bike if he has 3 or 4 good photos to work from. Before this guy gets on the Internet (and he's planning to go on-line before 2000), this would be a great source for a collector to get a unique copy of a favorite bike.
Ash and I finally get back on the road and begin the run up the coast to Moruya. We stop for the night in the resort town of Eden - this is the "Sapphire Coast" of New South Wales - faces the Tasman Sea, deep cold water, great fishing. Ash's partner, Fergus, meets us in Eden - he's recovered enough from his accident and this is his first ride on a bike since his spill. Still has a patch on his left eye and he's obviously moving slower but we have a grand time swapping yarns in the seaside pub. Another short day - less than 200 miles on the odo.
Tuesday the 30th. Last day of the ride. We take a leisurely run up the coast, ducking into several small towns so I can see the coast towns and beaches of southern New South Wales. Although I took a bunch of photos of the beaches and coast, no good ones developed. RATS! Miles and miles of white sand and cold blue water (too early in the season for swimming). At one beach, we walk in the sand and I scoop up a bunch of seashells for a friend - gingerly stepping around the hulks of beached jelly-fish (including Portuguese Men-of-War).
Just outside Moruya, we pull of the road onto another goddamn gravel road (no, I'm not angry about riding on gravel, really). After less than a mile, we pull to a stop beside the home of Kath Ellis and Stan Edwards and "Oasis Camels". They have about fifteen dromedary (one hump) camels which Kath captured while she lived up north. She captured and more or less tamed the beasts; now she and Stan show them and rent them. During ANZAC and Remembrance Days and other events, they put on a show of Australia's heritage - bush skills like sheep shearing, blacksmithing, etc. They also dress in the uniform of the Australian Camel Corps of World War I vintage. When not putting on shows like this, they take people on camel rides - from a day trip to a two-week trek across the Outback, camping by night under the stars (bit too primitive for my tastes).
Well, I had to try one! I rode Jasmine - after I told her in no uncertain terms: "You don't scare the shit out of me and I won't shit all over your backside, okay?" Musta worked. Stan said to go limp and just flow with her motion. I understand why some get seasick on camels. You've got a serious front to back rocking motion as she moves forward, plus some side to side action riding as her hips go up or down. I felt like Raggedy Andy in a Rottweiler's mouth but after a minute or two, we synchronized our rhythm and Jasmine wasn't too hard to ride. I don't know about 3 weeks of that crap, but a ride around the paddock . . .
Well, that's the end. We were soon back in Moruya, just 130 miles from Eden (bearing in mind all our side trips to beaches and the camel joint). I put 2,038 miles on the BMW in about 9 days of riding. Main problem with the Beamer: too tall for me. I bashed the hell out of my left ankle (still sore 10 days later).
While I was packing (staying at Dr. Steve Murray's guest house again), Ash and his mate Lisa, plus Dutchy and Speersy dropped by to say goodbye. Dr. Murray, his mum and his brother joined us and we sat on his veranda drinking, watching the sun set, and playing with Murray's two cats and dog (the dog had a skin rash, one cat was dying of cancer and its nose was slowly falling off and the other cat had boils on its body - I think the good doctor was doing experiments on his pets). After the motorcyclists left, the Murray men and I walked away from the house to a hillock and looked at the starry night sky. Didn't recognize any constellations but the stars were fantastic. I can just imagine how they might look away from even a small town like Moruya. Reminded me of the desert southwest in the US.
The next day, Wednesday the 1st, I left Moruya at 10 a.m. and 27 hours later, I reached Dulles at 10:30 p.m. on Wednesday the 1st. (Eh?) Time zones, International Date Line, yadda yadda yadda. A long end to a too-short holiday in Australia. I think I'm going to ask Ash to get me a sidecar rig in 2001 or '02 - I'd like to go back and spend a few more weeks knocking around Oz, exploring the northern states, maybe a bit of the Outback . . .
Thanks for coming - you're visitor since 10 Dec 1999.