Sat 22 of Aug 2009 Carnarvon to Karratha 650km

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Sat 22 of Aug 2009 Carnarvon to Karratha 650km
Today was a motorcycle enthusiasts dream - a ride with every possible experience. With my longest ride ahead of me today I left Carnarvon early. The air was fresh and crisp, but already the fabled radio telescope, perhaps Canarvon’s most famous attraction, was beginning to shimmer in the early morning light. I read that it was this telescope that received Neil Armstrong’s first and fabled words from the moon. I had known that Australia had received the transmission since it was the middle of the night in the US and hence American receivers were not well positioned. My main source of information was the movie “The Dish” a great account of Australia’s perspective on the event. There is a classic scene of Sam Neil playing cricket in the dish itself. Seems that the movie, and perhaps the action, actually occurred at the Parkes radio telescope in NSW. I guess I should have gone to the museum at the base of the telescope to find out, but the ride was too appealing.
Leaving Carnarvon heading north back on the Coastal Highway 1 you pass through a series of plantations, mainly banana, the second most famous thing Canarvon is known for. The weather at this point was perfect and wild life seemed to pick up. I passed by a flock (well a group of about 8 any way) of eagles, busy feeding on the nights road kill. They were the same as the one I had seen in the display case at the roadhouse a day or two back. Talking of birds I was later treated to the need to duck as I headed through a flock of galahs at the side of the road. They are hard to spot until they move because, if I have not mentioned it the countryside is in bloom - at least as far as that extends in the Australian outback. There are wildflowers and short waving grasses. At points these blend into a very light purplish green tinge, which the galahs, with their grey and red coloring, blend well. Later in the day rather than the clumsy galahs I appeared to be attacked by a fast and low flying flock of what seemed like finches or small swallows (one’s lack of knowledge on the local flora and fauna starts to show when you right things down). How none of them hit me is one of those amazing quirks of nature.
Ignorance of nature (well in general) came home at one the roadhouses. Got talking to a nice couple with two dogs. They were red Aussie setter, tracker blah blah.. told you I was ignorant. There was a squawking from the tree above and I said is that a cookaburra? They looked at me like I was from another planet and the man said, “no mate that is a scrawny crow, there is not a burra a 1000 miles from here, too bloody hot.”
There are no towns on this leg of the journey, just a couple of roadhouses. In fact at one point there was 240km between roadhouses with nothing in between. No houses, no people, no billboards, no strip malls, no nothing. For all that I did not feel isolated, as a car would come by about every 3-5 minutes. Occasionally it would be a road train - a 3-4 eighteen wheeler assemblage. Bad enough coming the other way, but I have leant to duck behind the windshield to reduce the blast of air pressure they generate. Overtaking one is a completely different experience. They seem to generate a kind of swirling vortex, which is no fun to be behind for too long. Obviously with straight roads, clear vision and few cars there is plenty of opportunity to pass the buggers.
About 100km north of Canarvon was the strangest sight, which appeared again a couple of times more farther along. Termite hills up to 5-6 feet tall sticking out of the scrub. They struck me (heaven knows why) as being like the terracotta warriors, except rather than being in orderly arrangements they were higgledy-pigedly as if awaiting in ambush ready to surround and attack a passing lone motorcyclist. I guess the sun was getting to me. Perhaps I failed to mention that it was starting to get much warmer under cloudless skies. More on the results of that in a moment. Not surprising I suppose since I passed through the tropic of Capricorn, although how would you knof if you did not have a map. No road sign, no display, nothing, just endless road.
Perhaps the best indicator of the desolation, straightness of the road and lack of facilities was a sign reading “RFDS Emergency Airstrip.” Apparently the Royal Flying Doctor Service could put down here at any time. I have no idea what you would do if as a lone motorcyclist you saw one or more large rotor blades coming straight towards you along the road. I was glad when I was well past the lines marking the beginning and ending of this remote piece of shared hard surface.
Distance plays strange tricks out here. At one point I spotted a distant smoke plume. A half hour and 50km later it was bigger and still distant. Given the amount of smoke in the sky I assumed it a huge fire and worried that the road would be closed. At that point I would just give up and go back I suppose since there is no alternative route. Vehicles coming the other way in which the occupants looked calm and collected gave me some solace, but then I realized they were Aussies. “No worries mate, you could burn to death or dies of smoke inhalation, but there is a great pub in Karratha if you make it through.” My hour of anticipation revealed a fire not too distant from the road, but not the raging inferno I had expected. I guess the air was so still that the smoke just hung around for days creating unnecessary worry for those unseasoned like myself. The smoke was viewable in the rear view mirror for at least an hour after I passed.
At some point I engaged with another motorcyclist in a leap frog type of activity. He would be leaving the roadhouse as I arrived, or I would pass him at a rest stop later on. We became bonded by our battle with the heat and the road and our unique perspective on travel in the outback. When we finally got to talk it turned out we were both going to Karratha he on a BMW trail bike of some kind with a very hard looking seat. He mentioned padding in his bike suit, but I would have needed more than that.
Karratha was a real disappointment, but I was happy to be there nevertheless. It was very windswept and sprawling along a sort of marsh with the water way in the distance. No character whatsoever. Seems there is a sun tax up here as the accommodation has got noticeably more expensive. I paid A$110 for a caravan at a caravan site a little out of town. I have not been in a caravan proper for many years; it was quite an experience. As well equipped as a motel room, just smaller. I rode back into town for dinner, but the pub seemed the only place. I opted for McDonalds and a wine back in the van. Hey it was Saturday night in Australia, I am old so it is quite appropriate to be watching Aussie football with a glass of wine and in bed at 9:30.
Resting in bed my face was aglow. How could that be after only a glass of wine? Squeezing into the vans bathroom and looking at the mirror I realized I had got a spot of sun. In fact my hands were very dark. Fortunately my hands were tanned to start with so no serious burn. Gloves on tomorrow for sure, and suntan lotion for the face. The sun seems to be able to sneak around that full facial helmet.

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Comments

[Rob Stansfield]

Better than 'O' level geography class
Phil, it's great to read your fantastic blog. I chose "Australia" for school geography projects twice, and this is even better. This sign caught my eye - R.F.D.S. are my initials. Penny and I just got back from climbing Mt. Adams in the White Mountains with Johanna. She's been doing trail maintenance - trench warfare, more like. According to the interweb, we have "DOMS" - Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness... How's your rear end? I just signed up three of us - Johanna, Alastair, and me - for a weekend 'motorcycle rider education training' in late September. I may even have a license by the time I next see you! Never too old, eh. Cheers, Rob.