The journey could have had any number of starting points. I have chosen to make it Crescent Road in Newport.
It was from John’s home
It has been months since I had sat in the saddle, worn a padded leather jacket and put on a helmet.
Leathers on, the roar of the engine beneath me I set off.
I planned to ride over two nights and three days.
I intended an adventure and riding the back roads, staying away from highways and freeways wherever possible.
I knew it was not going to be easy. It was hot, rain was forecast, my pack was heavy and my bike is designed more for quick jaunts and posing than interstate adventuring
The first day for the most part was everything that I thought it would be. It was hotter than I anticipated and with tight shoulders, lack of circulation in my wrists, a very sore ass and crampy knees I needed to rest more frequently than anticipated.
And that meant that everything started to take a little longer.
I had planned to be in Wingham by sunset.
I was staying with Mike Richardson, “my ex-father inlaw” and grandfather to my oldest Son Leroy.
We had only reconnected recently and it is a relationship that I value.
Mike also lives in a church, built in the 1850’s, that he is restoring making it a very special place to visit and see the progress that he is making.
BY late afternoon it was clear that I was going to arrive in darkness but I pressed on with my plan to ride the road less travelled. That is what made it the adventure.
What I did not anticipate was just how dark it would be. The low light emitted by my bikes feeble headlamp coupled with the fact that there were no streetlights and virtually no traffic meant that I was in fact riding in the dark.
It is one thing to ride in the dark on a paved and groomed road.
It is quite another to ride on one that is barely faded and covered in potholes and ridges.
Enjoyment quickly dissipated as I strained to avoid the ever more frequent road obstacles.
By this point I was tired, hungry really sore and ever-present to how quickly and easily I could come off the bike.
After 9 gruelling hours I made it into Wingham stopping at the local pub.
The kitchen was closed but Mike had ordered me a meal that they were keeping warm for me under lights.
That meal and a cold beer were epic.
Ad then all I wanted to do was shower and sleep.
And I felt blessed, blessed to have made it, blessed to have Mikes home to stay at, and the relationship with him. Blessed to have the opportunity to be on this adventure
I knew that day 2 was going to be way harder. I was riding almost double the distance and that would be coupled with day 1’s fatigue.
My commitment to the road less travelled remained and so I headed off in the direction of Condobyn, away from the freeway and into rural Australia and our National Parks.
I did no anticipate unsealed roads, mud, skree and potholes.
I gingerly limped, kilometre after kilometre, my bike sliding and catching, my wrists and shoulders aching.
I still had my humour about me and laughed out loud to myself at the adventure and how it was panning out.
And I had some beautiful moments, the landscape was breathtaking, and the silence expansive when I stopped my bike to rest.
The fatigue and soreness continued its hold on me requiring even more frequent rests to hydrate and shake out the stiffness and lack of circulation.
I was mindful of the timing and the sun getting lower in the sky as it became evident that it was going to be another late one.
Grafton to Casino was when and where it all changed. It stopped being an adventure and became a bit of a what the fuck are you doing experience.
Once again the roads were potholed and there were no street lights but this time there was also the added element of trucks laden with animals going past me in both directions on their way to the abattoir.
The smell of them seeped into everything.
In the fading light, unable to see much I attempted to lift my insect-soaked visor but that became impossible as insects stung my eyes and cheeks.
As daylight faded completely I attempted to use the painted white lines to navigate my way but they were completely intermittent.
Trucks continued to fly past me and towards me and often it was the oncoming traffic that alerted me to the fact that I was riding on the wrong side of the road.
I literally could not see a thing.
And then lights, and then Casino. I was exhausted. It was enough for one day.
I planned to find a hotel or motel and would continue my journey the next day.
I pulled into a service station.
It was closed.
A woman came up to me “do you know your lights broken” she said.
I looked down, the headlamp was facing directly downard onto the front bumper.
The constant bumping on the various potholed roads that I had ridden down had caused the alloy on both sides of the lamp to break.
Thats it, decision made. I am staging in this town.
One call after another advised me that there was no accommodation available anywhere.
I was fucked, tired, dejected, at a loss.
Then Nick called. I was supposed to meet Nick for dinner in Burleigh that night. I had kept him updated on my progress and let him know that there was no way that I would make dinner but would be getting there late evening and would meet him the following morning.
Don’t worry mate, he said, good idea to stay there, I will make some phone calls.
While his luck was no different to mine in finding accommodation he did speak to a man, Lee, at one of the hotels who had seen me at the servo. Nick told him what had happened to my bike and he offered to help.
I called him.
We agreed to meet after I had some dinner at the local pub.
I met him at his motel. He was a little gruff to start but softened really quickly as those men do.
He was a lover of motorbikes and racing them was his passion.
He took me to his shed. Motorbikes everywhere.
He got what he needed and within a few minutes had done an absolutely perfect job of fixing the bike - even better then it was.
I was so touched by his kindness.
His advice was clear and I heeded it.
“Backtrack to Ballina, get on the freeway and you have just over two hours and then you will be in Burleigh”
I had a bed and a hot shower waiting for me there and a text message advising how to get in if checking in late.
Off I went.
Freeway riding is never fun on a bike like mine and trucks are the horsemen of the night.
They were everywhere and every time one passed me I was buffered by the wind as I battled to keep myself upright.
I had one simple goal.
To get to Burleigh, drop my bag, shower and go to sleep.
Almost there, 10 minutes to go, 16 hours in the saddle at that point.
I have made it
And then literally, in that moment, my phone sailed straight out of the holder on my handlebars.
I was travelling almost 100Km’s per hour so it took a bit of time to stop and turn around.
Everything was on my phone, my navigation, instructions on how to get into the apartment and my credit cards.
I got off the bike, exhausted and attempted to stop or slow traffic where I could.
I saw the phone on the road. A car drove straight over it. I ran to it. It was just the cover
A few seconds later a car pulled up next to me, sirens came on and two plain-clothed undercover police officers got out.
And they were amazing. Together, with their torches, we walked up and down the highway for the next half.
And they found it
And it was smashed to smithereens but it worked.
The cops had a look at my bike. The whole rear, including my back tyre, was covered in oil - a leak.
We all agreed that I was pretty close to where I would be and so would ride there and then get the bike looked at in the morning.
I made my way to Burleigh.
I found the hotel and my key and instructions in the night safe.
It was 2am when I fell into bed
Grateful and blessed. How differently that day could have gone and how the kindness of strangers and the timing of everything worked perfectly and in its time.
I slept deeply.
On day 3, following my meetings in Burleigh I went to a motorbike service centre. With the back tyre covered in oil down the right side he strongly advised me not to ride any distance.
I phoned Tim, in Noosa, I told him what had happened.
Without hesitation, he said “I am coming to get you”
And he did.
He drove all the way from Noosa, with his trailer, and picked me up.
We drove back in the pouring rain and as we covered the miles I kept thinking to myself, I couldn't have done this.
We laughed, we spoke, we shared and Tim delivered me safely into the arms of my family before taking my bike to his place.
And I felt so blessed.
I was mindful not to use descriptors like crazy, or lucky, or get into the drama of the whole thing.
I am also mindful that the adventure that I went on could have looked very different at so many moments.
And I am cognisant of the people whose presence and contribution at the perfect time made such a difference.
Aho and thank you