Day 6: And I thought the cold was bad...

Route: Apollo Bay-Lorne-Torquay-Geelong-Ocean Grove
Distance covered: 150km (approx.)

As is becoming a daily occurrence, my early start plans never quite make it, inevitably because I end up talking with fellow campers. So it was again today - not that I am complaining. Far from it. I appreciate the interest that people are taking in my travels.

Having spoken to the chap camped next to me with his daughter, just as I was about to ride off, another man walked by, who, after asking the usual questions about what I was riding and where I was going, then proceeded to tell me how "you'll get your life back with what you're doing," and how it "is an initiation rite and e all ought to do it. And you'll get your life back." He concluded by telling me that "you're the lad!" Feeling invigorated by such a warm reception, I set off for the day.

Until late morning, the weather was pleasant - almost cool at one point. I immediately undertook the steepest climb of the trip so far - to Mariner's Lookout, near Apollo Bay. Steep as it was, the view was spectacular:

The stretch of the Great Ocean Road between Apollo Bay and Lorne is arguably the best motorcycling stretch of the entire road. Magnificent, sweeping corners, gradient (but not too much!), all alongside the ocean, cut into the side of the cliff. Magnificent. Rather than trying to describe it, I'll let the photos do the talking for me - the brown line in some of the photos is the cutting for the road:

I passed straight through Lorne, stopping only to take a photo from the northern side of it. Too many tourists, too many swimsuits for me on a day like today. I needed to make progress before it warmed too much.

As the day started to warm horrendously, living up to the forecast 40 degrees Celcius, I stopped off to walk out to the Split Point Lighthouse, before refueling both scooter and rider.

From this point onwards, the day took on a very different feel. A blistering northwesterly wind made progress slow and stupidly hot. I was suffering, not being able to escape the blazing sun and very strong scorching wind. By the time I reached Torquay, I was exhausted. Despite the weather, the beach was crowded by people wishing themselves a case of skin cancer:

The last stretch of the Great Ocean Road peters out into the highway to Geelong - hardly a fun stretch for a 50cc scooter, but even less so on a day like today. Heavy traffic, even stronger headwinds, even hotter. Not fun.

Having made the requisite purchase of two stroke oil, I then set forth for Queenscliff, or at least, a place along the way to camp for the night. Due to the popularity of the area, any site I could get ould be a bonus. As it turned out, the first site had an 'emergency' spot for only $50 (I paid $15 in Meningie on the first night...). Either way, not wanting to risk finding nothing else, I chose to stay, seeing that it was already 14:30 and that I was completely buggered.

Pitching the tent, a shower, a round of washing and a meal in the first restaurant since I left later, I've settled in for what promises to be a noisy night, seeing that it is New Year's Eve.

This marks the end of the first stage of my epic - I've completed the Great Ocean Road, and set off for Wilson's Promontory tomorrow morning. The forecast is for much colder weather once more, perhaps with rain. I hope to make decent ground tomorrow so that I can reach Melbourne by 4 January at the latest.

I've had a long, at times trying, year, and undertaking this road trip has been a fantastic way to put it all behind me - and I've only been gone six days. It's been an amazing experience to date. I've seen so much (only a portion of which has made it into this blog so far), had ample opportunity to think and to clear my head, and met some interesting people along the way. Sitting here, blogging on New Year's Eve, reflecting on the year that was, is exactly what I need to clear my head in preparation for a much better 2011.

So, on this note, I wish you a happy and successful 2011. See you again tomorrow.

Day 5: Heaven and Hell

Route: Warrnambool-Childers Cove-Bay of Islands-Bay of Martyrs-The Grotto-Twelve Apostles-Lauer's Hill-Apollo Bay
Distance covered: TBC (I forgot to check before uploading this)

Today's instalment of my scootering epic was witness to both fantastic stretches of road, as well as periods of Hell for both my faithful companion and me.

After what was a relatively warm night (that is, I didn't wake from the cold), I chatted with David and Dorothy, my campsite neighbours, for a while, before setting off for the Great Ocean Road, apparently one of the best motorcycling stretches in the world. First stop, however, was the Warrnambool breakwater:

For the uninitiated, the first stretch of the west-east route runs through farmland, rather than along the ocean. At the first opportunity to detour, I did to take in Childers Cove.

Back on the main road, I continued on, stopping at each of the vantage points overlooking the ocean, taking in sights such as the Bay of Islands, Bay of Martyrs, the Grotto and the Twelve Apostles (below):

As I was leaving the chaotic scenes of the Twelve Apostles - thousands of tourists everywhere - I had a chat with the couple alongside whose Yamaha 1200 I had parked. Having chosen to set out for Apollo Bay for the day, they managed to plant enough seeds of doubt about what I would likely encounter if I did so - too many people, essentially the same as in Warrnambool. They were staying in Johanna, which is apparently far quieter. As they seemed like decent people, and I like decent people, and decent people usually have good taste, I would have stayed there, were it not for the fact that tomorrow is going to be in the high 30s and both my scooter and I want to avoid too much riding in such weather.

The other factor that swayed me against staying in Johanna was the Great Ocean Road. Contrary to what the name may suggest, a lot of it doesn't actually run along the coast, but goes through the hilly hinterland. And by 'hilly', I mean mountainous for a 50cc scooter, already carrying a big guy and a load of luggage.

Whilst I can appreciate the riding pleasure on a larger machine along the road, only the downhill stretches were any fun. The uphill legs were, shall we say, torture for both rider and mount. Mentally in the first instance, physically in the latter. I had expected some hills, but nothing like this.

No need to tell me - to reduce implies that there was speed to begin with...

Over the bulk of the hills and approaching Johanna, I looked westwards, saw more hills, thought about the weather forecast for tomorrow and pushed on.

I'll write more about the ride another time, as I'm sitting in the campsite laundry writing this tonight.

Arriving in Apollo Bay, the first campsite was fully booked, the second had one spot free, which I took. 'Spot' in the loose sense. I am camping between the local football oval and a dirt track, next to the main road. It could be a fun night tonight.

Anyway, that's day five. More on the pleasures of riding the Great Ocean Road another time.

Tonight's picture is dedicated to my scooter, which has performed magnificently today, screaming downhill, outrunning most cars on its tail on a couple of occasions when the mood took and slogging hard uphill. All without missing a beat.

Day 4: Steady as she goes... sort of.

Route: Port MacDonnell-Nelson-Portland-Bridgewater Point-Port Fairy-Warrnambool
Distance covered: 240km (approx.)

Another night, another period of stupidly cold temperature. When I awoke at 6:30, I could see my own breath - and I thought that this was meant to be the middle of summer! There was also condensation on the tent, so anything that had been leaning against it was damp. Which meant most things as I'd positioned them around the edges to help insulate me from draughts. Not that it made any difference - I relented and went for the thermal top last night.

Having sworn to make an earlier start, departing at 8:50 was a marginal improvement. I was still tired and back my back was still stiff, having only partially loosened up under the hot shower at the campsite.

Good progress was made to the border a few kilometres to the east of my starting point for the day. Visitors coming into South Australia are greeted with this:

In my direction, however, the welcome is friendlier:

I continued on, reaching Nelson, the first town over the border. It was considerably smaller than anticipated:

As there was only a BP, I elected to not refuel, but to instead continue onwards to Portland. The road is a beautiful stretch for riding along: sweeping curves, changes in elevation and forest along much of it. I imagine that on a faster scooter, it would be even nicer.

As the more observant readers will have already noticed, today's distance is only an estimate. About 40km out of Portland I looked down at my instruments (not that there are too many on a Hyosung Rally) and saw that my speedometer and odometer had ceased to operate. Perhaps the tumble last night had caused some damage, after all (even if it had taken maybe 80km to kick in).

I pulled over and had a quick look to see if there was anything obviously wrong that I may be able to fix. Removing the windscreen (small as it is), I checked the cabling, but with my limited toolkit and even more limited knowledge of what I could do to fix it, there was little else to do but to screw the windscreen back on and to continue onwards.

And it still reads this!

No more exact records of the distance that I've covered each day. Damn. Having said this, it's one less thing to detract (small as it as) from the journey. I'll just need to be careful to remain below the speed limit in towns. Even so, I am still annoyed about it.

Reaching Portland, I was faced with an awkward decision: BP or Shell? I opted for the former. Stopping in a cafe for some terrible lunch, I had a quick look around the town.

I then continued on to Bridgewater Point to the west of Portland to see the blowholes (that weren't blowing today) and the petrified forest (that has nothing to do with trees).

Heading eastwards, I retraced my path to the outskirts of Portland, then bypassed the town, heading for Warrnambool, some 90km. Other than for a detour to Port Fairy, the attraction of which I have failed to grasp at all, I arrived in Warrnambool, but not before discovering another reason to recommend traversing Australia on a 50cc scooter:

Stopping off for supplies at a Coles - and discovering that the IGA in Meningie was far, far cheaper (and the big supermarket chains would never price gouge, would they?) - I found a campsite with space and settled down for the night. I'd intended to go a little further, but the interrupted nights of sleep are beginning to catch up with me.

Today's picture is dedicated to Neal, whose house is only marginally more structurally sound than this one:

Day 3: perfection and near-disaster

Route: Sunland Holiday Village-Beachport-Millicent-Glencoe-Mount Gambier-Port MacDonnell
Distance covered: 164.1km

The shortest day so far began perfectly and ended almost disastrously.

Awaking after an uncomfortable night of freezing, sleeping on hard ground and hearing animals around the tent, I started the day by heading to the private beach of the nudist camp where I'd somehow ended up the night previously. I saw nobody either on the way or on it. A pristine beach, just after sunrise, all to myself. The day couldn't have begun better.

Having departed Sunland for Beachport, I was quickly reminded of the benefit of going the slow way - the average driver would never see such evidence of the local wildlife:

The road was, fortunately, much better than the one on which I had approached my previous night's accommodation, but it was a lesson in traction, managing slides and balance. Hard work, lots of learning, but ultimately good fun.

I reached Beachport, a small holiday port town on the coast, as the name suggests. On days like today, the town's population of 400 must swell by several times.

I sat down to blog the previous day's events, before heading out onto the jetty to look at the people fishing and similarly enjoying the weather the manner that I was.

Leaving Beachport, I headed towards Millicent. Whilst riding through the town, encountering the first traffic lights for some time, my scooter celebrated an auspicious occasion:

Stopping for lunch shortly after Millicent, I continued on towards Mont Gambier, but took a detour to see Glencoe Woolshed, which was signposted prominently on the main road. Being in no rush, I've been stopping at most tourist sites. On this particular occasion, however, the journey to it was better than the destination.

Sweeping, undulating roads, but at the end of a substantial detour, a somewhat underwhelming sight. Not sure what else I'd been expecting.

I passed through the town centre of Mount Gambier without stopping, instead heading for the town's main tourist attraction: Blue Lake. For non-locals reading this blog, the photo below isn't doctored: the water is really this colour, hence the lake's name.

The lake is in an extinct volcano, and chemicals in the water turn it this colour during the spring and summer.

It's Shaun the Sheep!

Final destination for the day: Port MacDonnell, some 25km south of Mount Gambier. The firest caravan park was full; the second (and final) fortunately still had a little room remaining. I pitched my tent in windy conditions and then prepared to take a quick look at the beach.

Disaster struck - my poor scooter, already working hard, fell onto my tent! A combination of wind and unsteady ground brought its collapse. Having stood in the same spot for at least half an hour, it chose to have a lie down.

Shortly before the collapse...

No photo of the incident was taken, rushed as I was to separate scooter and tent. No obvious damage to either one. Only when I set off to purchase takeaway for dinner (no supermarket was open when I arrived in the town) did I discover that the right mirror was unusable. Fortunately, a spanner and readjustment was all that was required. Upon my return I stood the scooter on more solid footings - a 4x2 that was lying around in the caravan park and a rock under the back wheel.

The new parking spot, well away from the tent...

With the lack of foodstuffs for breakfast, I hope to get underway a little earlier tomorrow than I have to date. Time will tell. Either way, I'll be leaving South Australia and entering Victoria.

With a rear tyre with a name like this, what could go wrong? It's made for me!

Finally, today's picture dedication goes to Alison. Enjoy, Alison :)

Day 2: Naturism is not Naturalism - or: sod 'Pants Off Friday', let's have 'Pants Off Monday'.

Route: Meningie-Parnya Point-Policeman's Point-Salt Creek-Kingston S.E.-Robe-Sunland Holiday Village
Distance covered: 244.0km

A little late with this entry, as I didn't have any mobile coverage last night. What started out to be a pretty ordinary day finished in a somewhat (completely) unexpected manner.

The first night passed relatively smoothly. I slept pretty well, although the temperature bordered on sinking too low for my sleeping bag. Tying the hood tightly around my head solved most of the temperature-related loss of sleep.

Set my alarm for 6:38, and only tossed and turned for around ten minutes before getting up. At just after 9:00 I was ready to depart, having discovered that my packing skills had dropped since leaving home.

Another day, another road. This one being of dirt.

Michael Jackson isn't dead. He's riding a scooter around Australia

As I set out for Robe, target for the day - and only a little over 200km - I chose to take the ride easy. As anybody who has drive the Meningie-Kingston stretch of the trip, itself around 145km, knows, it isn't much more exciting than I imagine driving across the Nullabor to be. So I chose to make a few detours for any tourist attraction on the way.

Coorong National Park 

Highlights of the day:

Pelican Point and its observatory. Other than for seagulls, there was no bird life in evidence until I spotted a group of pelicans circling far overhead.

Parnya Point - Highway to Hell('s Gate)

Parnya Point was more eventful. The peninsula juts into the Coorong, making for a narrow stretch of water that can apparently be hazardous, hich gives rise to its nickname, Hell's Gate. It was therefore appropriate that the road to the point I dubbed the 'Highway to Hell', as the road surface was intent on trying to send my scooter and me to Hades.

Salt Creek: site of Australia's first oil drilling well. Shame there was never any oil in the area.

Chinaman's Well: Landing point for Chinese arriving in the 1850s to head to the Victorian goldfields. The well is still standing; these holes are from where the sandstone bricks for it were cut.

Kingston S.E.: world-famous tourist destination, home of the Big Lobster. Is there anything else to say?

Robe: I arrived in Robe just after 17:00, some eight hours after I left Meningie. I'd covered around 220km by this time, with the detours adding around 30km to the trip's length. This is where the day took an unexpected turn. Having completed by grocery shopping, I headed to a caravan park, only to be told that it was completely full. Not a good sign, especially as it was suggested to me that the others were likely as full.

Letterboxes, Australian style

Whilst I pondered my fate, I refueled, having decided that it might be worthwhile to push through to Beachport, another 50km away. I asked at the petrol station about the likelihood of finding Beachport similarly busy. Having been told that it might be, it was then suggested to me that I could always try a holiday park - a naturalist site - along the route. Sure, they were down a dirt road, but it was unlikely to be full.

Despite my misgivings about the road surface I might encounter - fully justified, as it turned out - I set off for what I envisaged to be a hippy commune or an eco campsite. Ought to make for an entertaining evening.

Entertaining, yes, but not as I'd envisaged. Not naturalist, but rather naturist. As in nudist. It wasn't a hippy commune or eco campsite, but rather a nudist camp that I'd arrived at. Oh.

Completely buggered, I did choose to stay the night, rather than carry on further. After all, I am on an adventure... At least, due to the weather, there was far more clothing in use than I imagine is normal for a nudist camp. It was cold.

At work a few days ago I was advised that it wasn't Pants Off Friday. It wasn't yesterday either, because it was Monday...

Today's picture is dedicated to Beata, who unwittingly predicted my future by telling me that it wasn't 'Pants Off Friday' on last Tuesday: