Trav takes the reins

Today's map.

Distance today: ~260km

Google Maps gives me the shivering poos.  I don't have anything as fancy as a GPS aboard the Rev, so Google is my only real option when planning my route for the day.  On Thursday morning, it turned out that Google, for all its wisdom, got the route to my rendezvous with Trav completely wrong.  I turned up late and frazzled after trying to negotiate Melbourne traffic with the wrong directions for a second time.

As soon as I rolled up the driveway and saw Trav's shiny, borrowed steed, everything was peachy again. He was on his beloved iPhone, which appears to be his third love, after JoJo and noisy flatulence.  Damn, it was good to see him again!

After the greeting and a quick lunch at the local food court (I caught way too much attention dressed in only my singlet top and riding bottoms), our route took us into the heart of the Yarra Valley.  We left the touristy bits for another day, seeking the best bits of road to bypass the highway and get us to Trav's place in Traralgon South.  The towering forests were truly beautiful, even if we could only really take in their beauty when we stopped to pee on them.

 Shortly after a pee.

(As a side note, Trav's bladder never developed much beyond his time as a foetus.  As a result, at least half of the trees in the Yarra Ranges enjoyed a healthy watering during our trip.)

Passing through Moe and then Yallourn, we stopped at one of the Latrobe Valley power stations to take some photos.  

 Yallourn Station, rider and Reverend.

 Trav the FZ.

 Cooling tower and the bikes.

 Trav, peeing on Yallourn.

 Bikes on Yallourn (ya lawn...ahahaha).

More riding (and urine) later we arrived, devastatingly tired, at Trav and Jo's house.  It was time to rest and recuperate so we got out the chainsaw and spent half an hour cutting down dozens of trees for a bonfire.  Trav never lets time or tiredness get in the way of a project.

I'm tired and out of time, so I'll put photos of the ensuing feast up tomorrow.  Til then.

Melbourne

Today's map.

Consciousness - at least at 5am, under a seat, with your face next to a decaying licorice bullet - can be overrated.  However, the crew on the Spirit had turned the lights on so that we could all experience the miracle of dawn two hours early.  My eyes felt like they'd been doused in brake fluid, set alight (fact check: does brake fluid burn?) and extinguished with a belt sander.  A look in the mirror confirmed that, yes, I am prone to exaggeration, but most Melburnians probably still mistook me for a crystal meth addict.

I'd arranged a free bed at my Aunt's place for two nights so that I could get some real sleep and spend some time in Melbourne.  Getting there, with my map showing all of greater Melbourne on two pages, was something of a challenge.  A couple of wrong turns into the commute saw me stuck in the school drop-off peak hour, heading the wrong way, with a severe case of sea legs.  Sea legs are fine in your car or your favourite pub, but not with 250kg of hot machinery between your legs. And a motorbike.

Anyway, I got there in one piece, parked the bike in the garage and flaked out the floor for a couple of hours.  It was bliss.

 My Aunt's garage.  Cool, eh?

Later that day, I went for a wander around Camberwell Junction to get a feel for the place.  There are an awful lot of painfully well-dressed people in that part of town.  Bumming around in my comfy motorcycle gear, I didn't have the guts to go into any of the cafes, where Gucci sunglasses and $100 t-shirts did their best to advertise the status of these beautiful people.  I dropped in on my Grandfather (Opa) and step-grandmother (Oma) at their retirement unit nearby.  

Their place was amazing!  We caught up over afternoon tea, which merged into snacks and wine, then a delicious salmon pasta for dinner.  It was fantastic to see them - so good that I only made it back to my Aunt's place at 9:30, when she and son Oscar were nearly in bed.  Oops...

After another day of cruising around on foot and spending time with the rellies, it was time to make a rendezvous with Cyclone Travis, the human whirlwind of enthusiasm.  More on that next entry.

Race to the Spirit

Starting Odometer: 63650km
Distance today: 285km
Today's map.

Today was a tough mother and that's no lie.  With the bike fully loaded and ready to go, LT and I shared a long, sad goodbye in the driveway.  To help her deal with her feelings, I stuck the camera in her face and took a photo.

Things were pretty tense in my helmet for the first half hour of the trip.  I had to fight the urge to turn back to my upset girlfriend and wrap her in an uncomfortable, leather-clad hug.  Things settled down as I got into the groove, feeling the Rev fighting the gusty conditions up the Midland Highway.  There aren't many stretches of Australian road that can be as beautiful - and as notoriously dangerous - as this one.

My bladder, the need for rest and fuel stopped me at Oatlands, Evandale and Westbury along the way.  I never bothered to check Google for an estimate of how long it would take to ride to Devonport, so I found myself leaving Westbury quite late, with the sun dropping like a stone in front of me.  With 75km to go and the ferry already open for check-in, I started to freeze and panic that I wouldn't make it in time.  Legions of insects sacrificed themselves on my visor, making the darkening landscape look like the set of a zombie film - legs and guts everywhere you looked.

 In the end, I rolled onto the big red boat with 20 minutes to spare.  I shared my excitement with the other bikers including a dwarvish man riding a postie bike to Perth, a lady taking her Vespa on a trip to Queensland and an incredibly camp gentleman off to 'see someone' in Victoria.

Whenever I hear the pokie machines on deck 7 of the Spirit, I remember somebody's comment that the ship is Australia's 'largest floating RSL.'   The food is garbage, the bars are full of grey hair and gin, and the staff are hand-picked from only the surliest police line-ups.  I scarfed down a muesli slice and a flaccid meat pie, took off my shoes and my belt and lay down to sleep underneath my 'ocean view recliner'.

 

Checking the lifeboats. 

 

Mmmmmmm....delicious pie.

As the pie and the motion sickness tablets started to party in my stomach, the ship started to roll in the choppy Strait.  Soothed by the motion, I pulled the blanket over me, ignored the loud American couple a few seats over and was rocked to sleep.

It's time to go

Sunday night; LT and me are on the couch with the cat, watching TV and eating garlic bread.  Life is warm and good, inside the house at least.  Outside, it's all gone a bit:

Partly cloudy with showers and isolated thunderstorms, tending to rain this evening with possible heavy falls during the morning. Rain gradually easing to showers tomorrow and contracting to the south during the afternoon and evening. Snowfalls about the highest peaks at first. Cool to cold with light to moderate northwest winds becoming strong to gale force and gusty southwest to southerly early in the morning. (Courtesy WeatherZone)

Awesome!  Weather like this is the best for putting your thick socks on and not wasting a single calorie with anything so futile as going outside to check for new junk mail.

Not so awesome:  D-Day is tomorrow and I have to ride in the above weather with newish tyres and 30kg of gear.  While half of me is trying to burrow under the bedsheets and forget about it, the other half - the one that got me into bikes in the first place - is going "yyyYYYYEAAHHH!  Adventure!!!"

I honestly can't wait for this trip to start.  If it happens to rain a little and I suffer severe shrinkage for several hours, then bully for me.  That's what this whole stupid idea is about.  It's everything that nine to five in an office is not.  It's a challenge way outside my comfort zone.  It's the chance to see if I'm even half the man I think I am and maybe enjoy the hell out of the evaluation process.

I'll talk more about why I need to do this trip later.  Right now, I've got the girl I love and dessert to attend to.  Catch you on the mainland.

Two's company

Best news ever!

I got a Skype call from my engineering mate Trav the other night.  This gentlemen (police file photo at right) is one of the reasons I took the plunge with bikes in the first place.  His tear-arse good company and mechanical wizardry kept me entertained and educated while he was living in Tassie with his gorgeous partner JoJo.

He's now living on the north island and it seems he got wind of my impending motorcycle experiment.  He's just back from some major overseas travel, competing in a Nordic Biathlon event.  Despite having stuff-all annual leave up his sleeve, the bugger offered to flex off a few extra days, hire a bike and COME RIDING WITH ME for a weekend!!

Stoked doesn't half describe me :-)

In the course of the phone call, he revealed he was even considering buying a bike so he could join me for a while, until rego and insurance put the kybosh on that.  The man never does things by halves...

All going well, Trav'll be saddling up on one of these:

 Yamaha FZ6-N

Mad, bad and should be more fun than a bunch of rattlesnakes in the kid's ball pit at Ikea.  I can't wait to ride together!

Three days til departure and I'm having a bit of trouble sleeping.  I'm hoping that'll take care of itself once I'm on the road.  Fancy dinner with LT tonight; I'm going to miss her almost as much as I'll miss normal food!

(Just joking hon...we're still on for dinner tonight aren't we?  Babe?...)